The Chronicles of Crime or The New Newgate Calendar. v. 1/2 being a series of memoirs and anecdotes of notorious characters who have outraged the laws of Great Britain from the earliest period to 1841. (part 3 of 5)

The Chronicles of Crime or The New Newgate Calendar. v. 1/2 being a series of memoirs and anecdotes of notorious characters who have outraged the laws of Great Britain from the earliest period to 1841. (part 3 of 5)

Page, who had repeatedly heard the other address her by the title of "My lady," became very importunate with the good woman to grant this favour; and at length, all parties having agreed, the servants were called. Page handed the lady and her attendant into a coach, on which was the coronet of a viscountess. Two footmen with flambeaux got up behind, and the coachman was ordered to drive home. The "home" which they reached, however, was a brothel; and on the lady quitting him in the morning, he found that she had been dexterous enough to rob him of his pocket-book and its contents, which no doubt more than compensated her for the favour which she had bestowed upon him.

The road and the gaming-table were now his only means of support, and he found a fitting companion in his proceedings in the person of an old schoolfellow named Darwell, in conjunction with whom, in the course of three years, he committed upwards of three hundred robberies. At length, however, their iniquitous proceedings caused an active search to be made for them; and Darwell being apprehended, "peached" upon his companion, and disclosed the places where it was most likely that he would be found.

The consequence was, that Page was apprehended at the Golden Lion, near Hyde Park, when three loaded pistols were found on him, with powder, balls, a wig to disguise himself, and the correct map of the roads round London which we have already mentioned.

He was sent to Newgate, and an advertisement inserted in the papers, requesting such persons as had been robbed to attend his re-examination but he denied all that was alleged against him; and, as he was always disguised when he committed any robbery, no person present could identify his person.

He was tried at length on suspicion of robbing Mr. Webb in Belfourd Lane, but acquitted for want of evidence; and after this he was tried at Hertford, but again acquitted for a like reason.

From Hertford he was removed to Maidstone jail, and being tried at Rochester for robbing Captain Farrington on Blackheath, he was capitally convicted, and received sentence of death. After conviction he acknowledged his guilt, yet exerted himself in the most strenuous manner to procure a pardon. He wrote to a nobleman with this view, and also sent a letter to a gentleman with whom he had lived as a servant, begging his interest that he might be sent to America as a foot-soldier; but his endeavours proved fruitless, and he was ordered for execution.

This extraordinary malefactor suffered at Maidstone on the 6th of April, 1758.

EUGENE ARAM.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

We are now arrived at that period which brings to our view perhaps the most remarkable trial in our whole Calendar. The offender was a man of extraordinary endowments and of high education, and therefore little to be suspected of committing so foul a crime as that proved against him.

Much has been written upon the subject of this murder, and attempts have been made, even of late years, to show the innocence of Aram. The contents of the publications upon the subject would be sufficient of themselves to fill our volumes; and it would be useless to republish arguments, which, having had due circulation and due consideration, have failed in their object, which was to convince the world that this offender was the victim of prejudice, and fell an innocent sacrifice to the laws of his country. We shall, therefore, abstain from giving this case greater space in our Calendar than that to which it is entitled, as well on account of the peculiarity of its nature, as of the great interest which its mention has always excited. The peculiarities of the case are twofold; first, the great talents of the offender, and secondly, the extraordinary discovery of the perpetration of the murder, and of the evidence which led to the conviction of the murderer. On the former point, indeed, some seem to have entertained a doubt; for about thirty years after his execution, his name being inserted among the literary characters of the country, in the "Biographia Britannica," and his high erudition being mentioned, a pamphlet was put forth, complaining of this step on the part of the editors of that work, and accusing them of a want of impartiality in affording their meed of praise to Aram, and withholding it from Bishop Atherton, who also met with an ignominious death. The charge was, however, answered more ably than it was made; and as it may prove interesting to our readers, we shall subjoin the refutation to the complaint, which appears distinctly to support Aram's right to the character which was originally given to him. It is said:--

"Objections are made to the admission of Eugene Aram into the Biographia Britannica, and the exclusion of Bishop Atherton; but it appears to me that the remarks on this subject are far from being just. The insertion of Aram is objected to because he was a man of bad principles, and terminated his life on the gallows; but it should be remembered that it was never understood that in the Biographia Britannica the lives of virtuous men only were to be recorded. In the old edition are the lives of several persons who ended their days by the hands of the executioner. Bonner was not a virtuous man, and yet was very properly inserted, as well as Henry Cuff, who was executed at Tyburn in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. As to Eugene Aram, it is truly said of him in the Biographia Britannica, in the article objected to, that the progress he made in literature, allowing for the little instruction he had received, may justly be considered as astonishing; and that his powers of mind were uncommonly great cannot reasonably be questioned. Eugene Aram possessed talents and acquisitions that might have classed him among the most respectable of human characters, if his moral qualities had been equal to his intellectual. It was certainly the extraordinary talents and acquirements of Eugene Aram which occasioned his introduction into the Biographia; and I know that by persons of undoubted taste and judgment, the account of him in that work has been thought a curious and interesting article. His singular defence alone was well worthy of being preserved in such a work.

"With respect to Bishop Atherton, he never had the least claim to insertion in such a work as the Biographia Britannica, and was therefore very properly omitted in the new edition. He was not in the least distinguished for genius or learning; his merely being a bishop could give him no just pretensions, and still less the unnatural crime for which he suffered. The friends of Bishop Atherton say that his reputation was suspected to have been destroyed, and his catastrophe effected, more by the contrivance of a party than by the aggravated guilt with which he was charged. If this were perfectly just, which however may be reasonably questioned, it would not give Bishop Atherton the least claim to insertion in the Biographia Britannica. Aram was inserted on account of his uncommon talents and learning; but Atherton, who was not distinguished for either, never had the least pretension to be recorded in such a work."

The talents and abilities of this criminal, therefore, seem to be undoubted; but that a man possessing powers of intellect so great should have been guilty of such a crime as that which he committed, seems most extraordinary.

Within the second peculiarity of the case will very properly come the narrative of the life of its hero, as well as the circumstances attending the commission of the crime and the discovery of its perpetrator. A succinct description of the case will probably be more intelligible than a detail of all the exceedingly minute circumstances by which it was surrounded.

Eugene Aram was born at the village of Netherdale, in Yorkshire, in the year 1704, of an ancient and highly respectable family; but although it is shown by the chronicles that one of his ancestors served the office of high sheriff in the reign of Edward the Third, it appears that at the time of the birth of Eugene, the vicissitudes of fortune had so far reduced its rank, that his father was compelled to support himself and his children by working as a gardener in the house of Sir Edward Blackett; although in that situation he was well employed and highly respected. In his infancy, Aram's parents removed to the village of Shelton, near Newby, in the same county; and when about six years old, his father, having saved a small sum of money out of his weekly earnings, purchased a small cottage at Bondgate, near Rippon. The first indications of that singular genius which afterwards displayed itself in so remarkable a manner in our hero, were given while his father was in the service of Sir Edward. Eugene was employed as an attendant upon that gentleman, and he early displayed a taste for literature, which was fostered and supported by his indulgent master. His disposition was solitary, and every leisure hour which presented itself to him was devoted to retirement and study; and in the employment which good fortune had bestowed upon him, ample opportunities were afforded him of following the bent of his inclinations. He applied himself chiefly to mathematics, and at the age of sixteen he had acquired a considerable proficiency in them; but his kind and indulgent master dying about this time, he was employed by his brother, Mr. Christopher Blackett, a merchant in London, who took him into his service as book-keeper. This was an occupation ill suited to his desires, and an attack of the small pox having rendered his return to Yorkshire necessary, he did not afterwards resume his employment in London, but at the invitation of his father he remained at Newby, to pursue his studies. He now found that the study of mathematics possessed but few charms; and the politer subjects of poetry, history, and antiquities, next engaged his attention. Every day served to increase the store of knowledge which he possessed, and his fame as a scholar having now extended to his native place, he was invited to take charge of a school there. The means of study and of profit appeared to him to be thus united, and he immediately accepted the offer which was made; and after a short time he married a young woman of the village, to whom he appeared tenderly attached. To this marriage, however, which proved unhappy, he attributed all his subsequent misfortunes; but whether with truth or not, the course of the narrative does not distinctly disclose. His deficiency in the learned languages now struck him, and he immediately set about conquering the difficulties which presented themselves in this new field of research; and so rapid was his progress, that ere a year had passed, he was able to read with ease the less difficult of the Latin and Greek historians and poets. In the year 1734 an opportunity was afforded him of adding a knowledge of the Hebrew language to his list of acquirements; for in that year Mr. William Norton, of Knaresborough, a gentleman of great talents, who had conceived a strong attachment towards him, invited him to his house, and afforded him the means necessary for pursuing its study. He continued in his situation in Yorkshire until the year 1745, when he again visited London, and accepted an engagement in the school of the Rev. Mr. Plainblanc, in Piccadilly, as usher in Latin and writing; and, with this gentleman's assistance, he acquired the knowledge of the French language. He was afterwards employed as an usher and tutor in several different parts of England; in the course of which, through his own exertions, he became acquainted with heraldry and botany; and so great was his perseverance, that he also learned the Chaldaic and Arabic languages. His next step was to investigate the Celtic in all its dialects; and, having begun to form collections, and make comparisons between the Celtic, the English, the Latin, the Greek, and the Hebrew, and found a great affinity between them, he resolved to proceed through all those languages, and to form a comparative lexicon. But, amid these learned labours and inquiries, it appears that he committed a crime which could not naturally have been expected from a man of so studious a turn, as the inducement which led him to it was merely the gain of wealth, of which the scholar is seldom covetous.

On the 8th of February 1745, in conjunction with a man named Richard Houseman, he committed the murder for which his life was afterwards forfeited to the laws of his country. The object of this diabolical crime was Daniel Clarke, a shoemaker, living at Knaresborough; and it appears that this unfortunate man, having lately married a woman of a good family, industriously circulated a report that his wife was entitled to a considerable fortune, which he should soon receive. Aram and Houseman, in consequence, conceiving hopes of procuring some advantage from this circumstance, persuaded Clarke to make an ostentatious show of his own riches, in order to induce his wife's relations to give him that fortune of which he had boasted. It is not impossible that in giving their subsequent victim this advice, they may at the time have acted from a spirit of friendship, and without any intention of committing that crime for which they afterwards received their reward; but the belief that the design was already formed receives equal confirmation from subsequent events.

Clarke, it seems, was easily induced to comply with a hint so agreeable to his own desires; and he borrowed, and bought on credit, a large quantity of silver plate, with jewels, watches, rings, &c. He told the persons of whom he purchased, that a merchant in London had sent him an order to buy such plate for exportation; and no doubt was entertained of his credit till his sudden disappearance in February 1745, when it was imagined that he had gone abroad, or at least to London, to dispose of his ill-acquired property.

Whatever doubt may exist as to the original intention of the parties, their object at this time is perfectly clear, and there can be no hesitation in supposing that Aram and Houseman had at this time determined to murder their dupe, in order to share the booty. On the night of the 8th February 1745, they persuaded Clarke to take a walk with them, in order to consult upon the proper method to dispose of the effects; and, engaged in the discussion of this subject, they turned into a field, at a small distance from the town, well known by the name of St. Robert's Cave. On their arrival there, Aram and Clarke went over a hedge towards the cave; and when they had got within six or seven yards of it, Houseman (by the light of the moon) saw Aram strike Clarke several times, and at length beheld him fall, but never saw him afterwards. These were the facts immediately connected with the murder, which were proved at the trial by Houseman, who was admitted King's evidence; and, whatever were the subsequent proceedings of the parties in respect of the body, they must remain a mystery.

The murderers, going home, shared Clarke's ill-gotten treasure, the half of which Houseman concealed in his garden for a twelvemonth, and then took it to Scotland, where he sold it. In the mean time Aram carried his share to London, where he sold it to a Jew, and then returned to his engagement with Mr. Plainblanc, in Piccadilly.

Fourteen years afterwards elapsed, and no tidings being received of Aram, it was concluded that he was dead; and these fourteen years had also elapsed without any clue being obtained to unravel the mystery of the sudden disappearance of Clarke. The time at length came, however, at which all the doubts which existed upon both subjects were to be solved. In the year 1758, a labourer named Jones was employed to dig for stone in St. Robert's Cave, in order to supply a limekiln at a place called Thistle Hill, near Knaresborough; and having dug about two feet deep, he found the bones of a human body, still knit together by the ligaments of the joints. It had evidently been buried double; and there were indications about it which could not but lead to the supposition that some unfair means had been resorted to in order to deprive the living being of life. The incident afforded good grounds for general curiosity being raised, and general inquiry taking place; and hints were soon thrown out that it might be the body of Clarke, whose unexpected disappearance was still fresh in the memory of many, and whose continued absence had been the subject of so much surprise. Suggestions of his murder which had been thrown out by Aram's wife were called to mind, and a coroner's inquest being held, she was summoned. By this time a general impression prevailed that the remains found were those of Clarke, and the testimony of Mrs. Aram greatly confirmed the idea which had gone abroad. She deposed that she believed that Clarke had been murdered by Houseman and her husband, and that they had acquired considerable booty for the crime; but she was unable to give any account of her husband, or to state whether he still was in existence or not. Inquiries being made, however, Houseman was soon found; and on his being brought forward to be examined, he exhibited the utmost confusion. The coroner desired that he would take up one of the bones, probably with a view of seeing what effect such a proceeding would produce; and upon his doing so, he showed still further terror, and exclaimed, "This is no more Daniel Clarke's bone than it is mine!" The suspicions which were already entertained of his guilt were, in a great measure, confirmed by this observation; and it was generally believed that he knew the precise spot where the real remains of the murdered man were deposited, even if he had not been a party to their interment. He was therefore strictly questioned; and after many attempts at evasion, he said that Clarke was murdered by Eugene Aram, and that his body was buried in St. Robert's Cave, but that the head lay further to the right in the turn near the entrance of the cavern than the spot where the skeleton produced was found. Search was immediately made, and a skeleton was found in a situation corresponding exactly with that which had been pointed out. In consequence of this confession an inquiry was immediately set on foot for Aram, and after a considerable time he was discovered, occupying the situation of usher in a school at Lynn in Norfolk.

He was immediately apprehended and conveyed in custody to York Castle; and on the 13th of August 1759, he was brought to trial at the assizes before Mr. Justice Noel. The testimony of Houseman to the facts which we have described, and of the other witnesses whose evidence was of a corroborative character, was then adduced; and from the proof which was given, it appeared that the share of plunder derived by the prisoner did not exceed one hundred and fifty pounds.

Aram's defence was both ingenious and able, and would not have disgraced any of the best lawyers of the day. It is a curious and interesting address, and we subjoin it as affording the best criterion of the talents of the prisoner which can well be adduced. He thus addressed the court:--

"My Lord,--I know not whether it is of right or through some indulgence of your lordship that I am allowed the liberty at this bar, and at this time, to attempt a defence, incapable and uninstructed as I am to speak; since, while I see so many eyes upon me, so numerous and awful a concourse fixed with attention and filled with I know not what expectancy, I labour not with guilt, my lord, but with perplexity; for having never seen a court but this, being wholly unacquainted with law, the customs of the bar, and all judiciary proceedings, I fear I shall be so little capable of speaking with propriety in this place, that it exceeds my hope if I shall be able to speak at all.

"I have heard, my lord, the indictment read, wherein I find myself charged with the highest crime, with an enormity I am altogether incapable of; a fact, to the commission of which there goes far more insensibility of heart, more profligacy of morals, than ever fell to my lot; and nothing possibly could have admitted a presumption of this nature but a depravity not inferior to that imputed to me. However, as I stand indicted at your lordship's bar, and have heard what is called evidence adduced in support of such a charge, I very humbly solicit your lordship's patience, and beg the hearing of this respectable audience, while I, single and unskilful, destitute of friends and unassisted by counsel, say something, perhaps like argument, in my defence. I shall consume but little of your lordship's time: what I have to say will be short; and this brevity, probably, will be the best part of it: however, it is offered with all possible regard and the greatest submission to your lordship's consideration, and that of this honourable court.

"First, my lord, the whole tenor of my conduct in life contradicts every particular of the indictment: yet had I never said this, did not my present circumstances extort it from me, and seem to make it necessary. Permit me here, my lord, to call upon malignity itself, so long and cruelly busied in this prosecution, to charge upon me any immorality of which prejudice was not the author. No, my lord, I concerted no schemes of fraud, projected no violence, injured no man's person or property. My days were honestly laborious, my nights intensely studious; and I humbly conceive my notice of this, especially at this time, will not be thought impertinent or unseasonable, but, at least, deserving some attention; because, my lord, that any person, after a temperate use of life, a series of thinking and acting regularly, and without one single deviation from sobriety, should plunge into the very depth of profligacy precipitately and at once, is altogether improbable and unprecedented, and absolutely inconsistent with the course of things. Mankind is never corrupted at once. Villany is always progressive, and declines from right, step by step, till every regard of probity is lost, and every sense of all moral obligation totally perishes.

"Again, my lord, a suspicion of this kind, which nothing but malevolence could entertain and ignorance propagate, is violently opposed by my very situation at that time with respect to health; for, but a little space before, I had been confined to my bed, and suffered under a very long and severe disorder, and was not able, for half a year together, so much as to walk. The distemper left me indeed, yet slowly, and in part--but so macerated, so enfeebled, that I was reduced to crutches; and so far from being well about the time I am charged with this fact, I have never, to this day, perfectly recovered. Could then a person in this condition take anything into his head so unlikely, so extravagant?--I, past the vigour of my age, feeble and valetudinary, with no inducement to engage, no ability to accomplish, no weapon wherewith to perpetrate such a deed, without interest, without power, without motive, without means. Besides, it must needs occur to every one, that an action of this atrocious nature is never heard of, but when its springs are laid open. It appears that it was to support some indolence, or supply some luxury; to satisfy some avarice, or oblige some malice; to prevent some real or some imaginary want: yet I lay not under the influence of these. Surely, my lord, I may, consistently with both truth and modesty, affirm thus much; and none who have any veracity and knew me, will ever question this.

"In the second place, the disappearance of Clarke is suggested as an argument of his being dead; but the uncertainty of such an inference from that, and the fallibility of all conclusions of such a sort from such a circumstance, are too obvious and too notorious to require instances; yet superseding many, permit me to produce a very recent one, and that afforded by this Castle.

"In June 1757, William Thompson, for all the vigilance of this place, in open daylight and double-ironed, made his escape, and, notwithstanding an immediate inquiry set on foot, the strictest search, and all advertisement, was never heard of since. If, then, Thompson got off unseen, through all these difficulties, how very easy it was for Clarke, when none of them opposed him! But what would be thought of a prosecution commenced against any one seen last with Thompson?

"Permit me next, my lord, to observe a little upon the bones which have been discovered. It is said (which perhaps is saying very far) that these are the skeleton of a man. It is possible, indeed, it may; but is there any certain known criterion which incontestably distinguishes the sex in human bones? Let it be considered, my lord, whether the ascertaining of this point ought not to precede any attempt to identify them?

"The place of their depositum, too, claims much more attention than is commonly bestowed upon it; for of all places in the world, none could have mentioned any one wherein there was greater certainty of finding human bones than a hermitage, except he should point out a churchyard; hermitages, in time past, being not only places of religious retirement, but of burial too: and it has scarce or never been heard of, but that every cell now known contains or contained these relics of humanity, some mutilated and some entire. I do not inform, but give me leave to remind your lordship, that here sat solitary Sanctity, and here the hermit or the anchoress hoped that repose for their bones when dead they here enjoyed when living.

"All the while, my lord, I am sensible this is known to your lordship, and many in this Court, better than to me; but it seems necessary to my case that others, who have not at all, perhaps, adverted to things of this nature, and may have concern in my trial, should be made acquainted with it. Suffer me then, my lord, to produce a few of many evidences that these cells were used as repositories of the dead, and to enumerate a few in which human bones have been found, as it happened in this question; lest, to some, that accident might seem extraordinary, and, consequently, occasion prejudice.

"1. The bones, as was supposed, of the Saxon saint, Dubritius, were discovered buried in his cell at Guy's Cliff, near Warwick; as appears from the authority of Sir William Dugdale.

"2. The bones thought to be those of the anchoress Rosia were but lately discovered in a cell at Royston, entire, fair, and undecayed, though they must have lain interred for several centuries; as is proved by Dr. Stukely.

"3. But my own country--nay, almost this neighbourhood--supplies another instance; for in January 1747, were found, by Mr. Stovin, accompanied by a reverend gentleman, the bones, in part, of some recluse, in the cell at Lindholm, near Hatfield. They were believed to be those of William of Lindholm, a hermit, who had long made this cave his habitation.

"4. In February 1744, part of Woburn Abbey being pulled down, a large portion of a corpse appeared, even with the flesh on, and which bore cutting with a knife; though it is certain this had lain above two hundred years, and how much longer is doubtful; for this abbey was founded in 1145, and dissolved in 1538 or 1539.

"What would have been said, what believed, if this had been an accident to the bones in question?

"Farther, my lord:--it is not yet out of living memory that at a little distance from Knaresborough, in a field, part of the manor of the worthy and patriot baronet who does that borough the honour to represent it in parliament, were found, in digging for gravel, not one human skeleton only, but five or six, deposited side by side, with each an urn placed at its head, as your lordship knows was usual in ancient interments.

"About the same time, and in another field, almost close to this borough, was discovered also, in searching for gravel, another human skeleton; but the piety of the same worthy gentleman ordered both pits to be filled up again, commendably unwilling to disturb the dead.

"Is the invention of these bones forgotten, then, or industriously concealed, that the discovery of those in question may appear the more singular and extraordinary? whereas, in fact, there is nothing extraordinary in it. My lord, almost every place conceals such remains. In fields, in hills, in highway sides, in commons, lie frequent and unsuspected bones; and our present allotments for rest for the departed are but of some centuries.

"Another particular seems not to claim a little of your lordship's notice, and that of the gentlemen of the jury; which is, that perhaps no example occurs of more than one skeleton being found in one cell: and in the cell in question was found but one; agreeable, in this, to the peculiarity of every other known cell in Britain. Not the invention of one skeleton, but of two, would have appeared suspicious and uncommon. But it seems another skeleton has been discovered by some labourer, which was full as confidently averred to be Clarke's as this. My lord, must some of the living, if it promotes some interest, be made answerable for all the bones that earth has concealed and chance exposed? and might not a place where bones lay be mentioned by a person by chance as well as found by a labourer by chance? or is it more criminal accidentally to name where bones lie than accidentally to find where they lie?

"Here too is a human skull produced, which is fractured; but was this the cause, or was it the consequence, of death? was it owing to violence, or was it the effect of natural decay? If it was violence, was that violence before or after death? My lord, in May 1732, the remains of William, Lord Archbishop of this province, were taken up, by permission, in this cathedral, and the bones of the skull were found broken; yet certainly he died by no violence offered to him alive that could occasion that fracture there.

"Let it be considered, my lord, that, upon the dissolution of religious houses and the commencement of the Reformation, the ravages of those times affected both the living and the dead. In search after imaginary treasures, coffins were broken up, graves and vaults dug open, monuments ransacked, and shrines demolished; and it ceased about the beginning of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. I entreat your lordship, suffer not the violence, the depredations, and the iniquities of those times, to be imputed to this.

"Moreover, what gentleman here is ignorant that Knaresborough had a castle, which, though now a ruin, was once considerable both for its strength and garrison? All know it was vigorously besieged by the arms of the parliament; at which siege, in sallies, conflicts, flights, pursuits, many fell in all the places round it, and, where they fell, were buried, for every place, my lord, is burial-earth in war; and many, questionless, of these rest yet unknown, whose bones futurity shall discover.

"I hope, with all imaginable submission, that what has been said will not be thought impertinent to this indictment; and that it will be far from the wisdom, the learning, and the integrity of this place, to impute to the living what zeal in its fury may have done--what nature may have taken off, and piety interred--or what war alone may have destroyed, alone deposited.

"As to the circumstances that have been raked together, 1 have nothing to observe but that all circumstances whatever are precarious, and have been but too frequently found lamentably fallible; even the strongest have failed. They may rise to the utmost degree of probability, yet they are but probability still. Why need I name to your lordship the two Harrisons recorded by Dr. Howel, who both suffered upon circumstances because of the sudden disappearance of their lodger, who was in credit, had contracted debts, borrowed money, and went off unseen, and returned a great many years after their execution? Why name the intricate affair of Jacques de Moulin, under King Charles II. related by a gentleman who was counsel for the crown? And why the unhappy Coleman, who suffered innocently, though convicted upon positive evidence; and whose children perished for want, because the world uncharitably believed the father guilty? Why mention the perjury of Smith, incautiously admitted king's evidence: who, to screen himself, equally accused Faircloth and Loveday of the murder of Dun; the first of whom, in 1749, was executed at Winchester; and Loveday was about to suffer at Reading, had not Smith been proved perjured, to the satisfaction of the Court, by the governor of Gosport hospital?

"Now, my lord, having endeavoured to show that the whole of this process is altogether repugnant to every part of my life; that it is inconsistent with my condition of health about that time; that no rational inference can be drawn that a person is dead who suddenly disappears; that hermitages are the constant depositaries of the bones of a recluse; that the proofs of this are well authenticated; that the revolutions in religion, or the fortunes of war, have mangled or buried the dead;--the conclusion remains, perhaps, no less reasonable than impatiently wished for. I, at last, after a year's confinement, equal to either fortune, put myself upon the justice, the candour, and the humanity of your lordship; and upon yours, my countrymen, gentlemen of the jury."

The delivery of this address created a very considerable impression in court; but the learned judge having calmly and with great perspicuity summed up the evidence which had been produced, and having observed upon the prisoner's defence, which he declared to be one of the most ingenious pieces of reasoning that had ever fallen under his notice, the jury, with little hesitation, returned a verdict of Guilty. Sentence of death was then passed upon the prisoner, who received the intimation of his fate with becoming resignation. After his conviction, he confessed the justice of his sentence to two clergymen who were directed to attend him--a sufficient proof of the fruitlessness of the efforts to prove him innocent, which the morbid sentimentality of late writers has induced them to attempt. Upon an inquiry being made of him as to his reason for committing the crime, he declared that he had reason to suspect Clarke of having had unlawful intercourse with his wife; and that at the time of his committing the murder he had thought that he was acting rightly, but that he had since thought that his crime could not be justified or excused. In the hopes of avoiding the ignominious death which he was doomed to suffer, on the night before his execution he attempted to commit suicide by cutting his arm in two places with a razor, which he had concealed for that purpose. This attempt was not discovered until the morning, when the jailor came to lead him forth to the place of execution, and he was then found almost expiring from loss of blood. A surgeon was immediately sent for, who found that he had wounded himself severely on the left arm, above the elbow and near the wrist, but he had missed the artery, and his life was prolonged only in order that it might be taken away on the scaffold. When he was placed on the drop, he was perfectly sensible, but was too weak to be able to join in devotion with the clergyman who attended him He was executed at York on the 16th August 1759; and his body was afterwards hung in chains in Knaresborough Forest.

The following papers were afterwards found in his handwriting on the table in his cell. The first contained reasons for his attempt upon his life, and was as follows:--"What am I better than my fathers? To die is natural and necessary. Perfectly sensible of this, I fear no more to die than I did to be born. But the manner of it is something which should, in my opinion, be decent and manly. I think I have regarded both these points. Certainly no man has a better right to dispose of a man's life than himself; and he, not others, should determine how. As for any indignities offered to my body, or silly reflections on my faith and morals, they are, as they always were, things indifferent to me. I think, though contrary to the common way of thinking, I wrong no man by this, and hope it is not offensive to that eternal Being that formed me and the world: and as by this I injure no man, no man can be reasonably offended. I solicitously recommend myself to that eternal and almighty Being, the God of Nature, if I have done amiss. But perhaps I have not; and I hope this thing will never be imputed to me. Though I am now stained by malevolence and suffer by prejudice, I hope to rise fair and unblemished. My life was not polluted, my morals irreproachable, and my opinions orthodox. I slept sound till three o'clock, awaked, and then writ these lines--

Come, pleasing rest! eternal slumbers, fall! Seal mine, that once must seal the eyes of all. Calm and composed my soul her journey takes; No guilt that troubles, and no heart that aches. Adieu, thou sun! all bright, like her, arise! Adieu, fair friends, and all that's good and wise!"

The second was in the form of a letter, addressed to a former companion, and was in the following terms:

"MY DEAR FRIEND,--Before this reaches you, I shall be no more a living man in this world, though at present in perfect bodily health: but who can describe the horrors of mind which I suffer at this instant? Guilt--the guilt of blood shed without any provocation, without any cause but that of filthy lucre--pierces my conscience with wounds that give the most poignant pains! 'Tis true the consciousness of my horrid guilt has given me frequent interruptions in the midst of my business or pleasures; but yet I have found means to stifle its clamours, and contrived a momentary remedy for the disturbance it gave me by applying to the bottle or the bowl, or diversions, or company, or business; sometimes one, and sometimes the other, as opportunity offered: but now all these, and all other amusements, are at an end, and I am left forlorn, helpless, and destitute of every comfort; for I have nothing now in view but the certain destruction both of my soul and body. My conscience will now no longer suffer itself to be hoodwinked or browbeat: it has now got the mastery; it is my accuser, judge, and executioner: and the sentence it pronounceth against me is more dreadful than that I heard from the bench, which only condemned my body to the pains of death, which are soon over; but conscience tells me plainly that she will summon me before another tribunal, where I shall have neither power nor means to stifle the evidence she will there bring against me; and that the sentence which will then be denounced will not only be irreversible, but will condemn my soul to torments that will know no end.

"Oh! had I but hearkened to the advice which dear-bought experience has enabled me to give, I should not now have been plunged into that dreadful gulf of despair which I find it impossible to extricate myself from; and therefore my soul is filled with horror inconceivable. I see both God and man my enemies, and in a few hours shall be exposed a public spectacle for the world to gaze at. Can you conceive any condition more horrible than mine? O, no! it cannot be! I am determined, therefore, to put a short end to trouble I am no longer able to bear, and prevent the executioner by doing his business with my own hand, and shall by this means at least prevent the shame and disgrace of a public exposure, and leave the care of my soul in the hands of eternal mercy. Wishing you all health, happiness, and prosperity, I am, to the last moment of my life, yours, with the sincerest regard,

"EUGENE ARAM."

It is impossible to view the circumstances of this remarkable case, without being struck with the extraordinary conduct of Aram. It is most singular that a man of his talents and mind should have leagued himself with a person like Houseman, who appears to have been utterly uneducated, in the commission of a murder, and with the hope only of gain; for whatever his declarations after his conviction may have been, as to his object being revenge only for the supposed injury which had been done him by his victim in the seduction of his wife, his ready acquiescence in the plot with another, and his willing acceptance of the plunder which was obtained, distinctly show that that was not the only end which he sought to attain. If, indeed, his feelings were outraged, as he suggested, he would have selected some other mode of obtaining that satisfaction to which the injury alleged would have entitled him; and it is hardly to be supposed that he would have obtained the assistance of another to secure the object which he had in view, more particularly when it appears that it was he who absolutely committed the foul act, without the immediate aid of Houseman,--a circumstance which clearly exemplifies the power which he possessed to dispose of his victim, and which would seem to show a desire on his part only to obtain the participation of another in a preconceived act, anticipating doubtless that some aid would be necessary in appropriating and disposing of the property which might be procured from the deceased, and also that some advice would be requisite in the event of suspicion attaching to him. But while these circumstances cannot but surprise us, how much more astonishing is the Divine power of Providence, which disclosed to human eyes, after so long a lapse of time, such evidence as in the result proved the commission of the crime, and which secured the seizure of the criminal, who had up to that time remained unsuspected, and who even then was living in fancied security, free from all fear of discovery and apprehension! It is said that

"--- Murder! though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ:"

and how truly is this observation of the most wonderful of poets exemplified by nearly every page of these records of crime!

WILLIAM ANDREW HORNE, ESQ.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

The short notice which we give of this man exhibits a human being reduced far below the level of a beast.

The subject of the memoir was the eldest son of a gentleman of fortune in Nottinghamshire, who in vain strove to instil into the mind of his son any of those principles of rectitude, without which man cannot be considered to be humanised. The sports of the field, and all the dissipation which a country squire could at that time obtain, formed the amusements of this reckless youth. His passion for women was unbounded; but his love of gold surpassed all the other bad qualities which so peculiarly distinguished him. It was while his father yet lived that he committed that crime for which his life was eventually forfeited; and it appears to have occurred in the following manner:--

His passion for women led him to commit the most disgusting excesses; and at length so far had he carried his crimes, that an incestuous connexion took place between him and his sister, the result of which was the birth of a boy in the month of February 1724; Horne told his brother Charles of the circumstance three days afterwards, and at ten o'clock at night said that he must take a ride with him. He then put the new-born infant in a bag; and, mounting their horses, they rode to Annesley, in Nottinghamshire, at the distance of five miles, carrying the child alternately. On their arrival near the village, William dismounted and inquired if the child was living; and being answered in the affirmative, he took it and told his brother to wait till he came back. On his return, Charles demanded to know how he had disposed of the infant; to which he said that he had placed it behind a hay-stack, and covered it with hay.

They then returned home; and it was afterwards learned that the child died in the course of the night from exposure to the cold; but in a short time afterwards a quarrel arising between the brothers, the whole transaction was communicated by Charles to his father. The latter enjoined him to the strictest secrecy; and this injunction was obeyed up to the time of the old man's death, which occurred in the year 1747, in the 102nd year of his age. The real estate of the family, being entailed, then descended to the eldest son; but the father had previously made over his personal property by deed of gift to his son Charles. No sooner had the new squire assumed the government of the estate than he behaved with the utmost severity towards his brother as well as his tenants; and at length the former, rendered miserable by his participation in the horrid act, having some business to transact with Mr. Cooke, an attorney at Derby, told him of the long-concealed affair, and asked his advice. The lawyer told him to go to a justice of the peace and make a full discovery of the whole transaction; and he accordingly went to a magistrate, and acquainted him with what had happened. He hesitated to take cognizance of the matter, however, saying that it might hang half the family; and as it had passed so many years ago, advised that it might remain a secret.

No further notice of the circumstance was then taken until the year 1754, when Charles being suddenly seized with a severe fit of illness, called in a Mr. White of Ripley, to whom, in anticipation of his death, he disclosed all that had occurred. Mr. White declined to interfere; but his patient almost immediately recovered, declaring that "he had been better ever since the weight of the transaction had been taken off his mind by his making the disclosure."

The discovery, however, soon became a matter of notoriety; and William Horne having a quarrel with a publican named Roe, the latter called him "an incestuous old dog." A suit in the Ecclesiastical Court at Lichfield was the consequence; and Roe being unsuccessful, was ordered to pay all the costs. This circumstance inflamed him with revenge; and having made such inquiries as persuaded him of the truth of the report which he had heard, he procured a warrant to be issued for the apprehension of his late opponent. A constable of Annesley and he in consequence proceeded to the house of the squire at about eight o'clock in the evening, and after having experienced considerable difficulty, succeeded in obtaining admittance. A strict search was then commenced; but it was not until a long time had elapsed that they discovered the object of their inquiry concealed in a large box, which had been described as containing clean linen. He was immediately carried before two justices, who committed him to take his trial at the following assizes.

On the 10th of August 1759, he was brought to trial before Lord Chief Baron Parker; and after a hearing of about nine hours, the jury found him guilty, and sentence of death passed of course.

Horne being convicted on a Saturday, was sentenced to die on the Monday following; but a number of gentlemen waited on the judge, intimating that he had been so long hardened in iniquity, that a farther time would be necessary to prepare him for his awful change, and a respite of a month was in consequence granted.

When this time was nearly expired, he received a reprieve during his majesty's pleasure; so that he began to entertain hopes of obtaining a free pardon: and he employed a considerable part of his time in writing to his friends to make interest to secure this object. He, however, confessed the justice of his conviction, but seemed little affected by the enormity of his crime, and frequently said, "it was d--d hard to suffer on the evidence of a brother for a crime committed so many years before."

He gave the following account of the transaction:--He said he had no design of destroying the infant, but put it in a bag lined with wool, and made a hole in the bag that it might not be stifled. He added, that the child was handsomely dressed, and he had intended to have left it at the door of Mr. Chaworth, of Annesley; but the dogs barking, and there being a light in the house, he desisted from his first intention, in the fear of a discovery. After some hesitation, he said, he resolved to place it under a warm hay-stack, in the hope that, when the servants came to fodder the cattle in the morning, it would be found.

He acknowledged to a clergyman who assisted him in his devotions that he forgave all his enemies, even his brother Charles; but made the following strange addition to his speech: "that if, at the day of judgment, God Almighty should ask him how his brother behaved, he would not give him a good character."

The hopes of a pardon which he had entertained soon proved unfounded; and an order arrived for his execution on the 11th December 1759, on which day he completed his 74th year, and terminated his life on a scaffold erected at Nottingham.

LAURENCE, EARL FERRERS.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

Laurence, Earl Ferrers, was a man of singular and most unhappy disposition. Descended of an ancient and noble family, he was doomed to expiate a crime, of which he had been guilty, at Tyburn.

It would appear that the royal blood of the Plantagenets flowed in his veins, and the earl gained his title in the following manner:--The second baronet of the family, Sir Henry Shirley, married a daughter of the celebrated Earl of Essex, who was beheaded in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; and his son, Sir Robert Shirley, died in the Tower, where he was confined during the Protectorate, for his attachment to the cause of the Stuarts. Upon the Restoration, the second son of Sir Robert succeeded to the title and estates; and Charles, anxious to cement the bonds which attached his friends to him, summoned him to the Upper House of Parliament by the title of Lord Ferrers of Chartley, as the descendant of one of the co-heiresses of the Earl of Essex; the title, which had existed since the reign of Edward III., having been in abeyance since the death of that unfortunate nobleman. In the year 1711, Robert, Lord Ferrers, was created by Queen Anne, Viscount Tamworth and Earl Ferrers; and it appears that although the estates of the family were very great, they were vastly diminished by the provisions which the Earl thought proper to make for his numerous progeny, consisting of fifteen sons and twelve daughters, born to him by his two wives. At the death of the first earl, his title descended to his second son; but he dying without issue, it went in succession to the ninth son, who was childless, and the tenth son, who was the father of the earl, Laurence, the subject of the present sketch.

This nobleman was united in the year 1752 to the youngest daughter of Sir William Meredith; but although his general conduct when sober was not such as to be remarkable, yet his faculties were so much impaired by drink, that when under the influence of intoxication, he acted with all the wildness and brutality of a madman. For a time his wife perceived nothing which induced her to repent the step she had taken in being united to him; but he subsequently behaved to her with such unwarrantable cruelty, that she was compelled to quit his protection, and rejoining her father's family, to apply to Parliament for redress. An act was in consequence passed, allowing her a separate maintenance to be raised out of her husband's estate; and trustees being appointed, the unfortunate Mr. Johnson, who fell a sacrifice to the ungovernable passions of Lord Ferrers, having been bred up in the family from his youth, and being distinguished for the regular manner in which he kept his accounts, and his fidelity as a steward, was proposed as receiver of the rents for her use. He at first declined the office; but subsequently, at the desire of the Earl himself, he consented to act, and continued in this employment for a considerable time.

His lordship at this time lived at Stanton, a seat about two miles from Ashby de la Zouch, in Leicestershire; and his family consisted of Mrs. Clifford, a lady who lived with him, and her four natural daughters, besides five men-servants, exclusive of an old man and a boy, and three maids.

Mr. Johnson lived at the house belonging to the farm, which he held under his lordship, called the Lount, about half a mile distant from Stanton. It appears that it was his custom to visit his noble master occasionally, to settle the accounts which were placed under his care; but his lordship gradually conceived a dislike for him, grounded upon the prejudice raised in his mind on account of his being the receiver of the countess' portion, and charged him with having combined with the trustees to prevent his receiving a coal contract. From this time he spoke of him in opprobrious terms, and said he had conspired with his enemies to injure him, and that he was a villain; and with these sentiments he gave him warning to quit an advantageous farm which he held under his lordship. Finding, however, that the trustees under the act of separation had already granted him a lease of it, it having been promised to him by the earl or his relations, he was disappointed, and probably from that time he meditated a more cruel revenge.

The circumstances immediately attending the transaction, which terminated in the death of Johnson, are as follow:--

On Sunday the 13th of January 1760, my lord went to the Lount, and after some discourse with Mr. Johnson, ordered him to come to him at Stanton on the Friday following, the 18th, at three o'clock in the afternoon. His lordship's usual dinner-hour was two o'clock; and soon after that meal was disposed of, on the Friday, he went to Mrs. Clifford, who was in the still-house, and desired her to take the children for a walk. She accordingly prepared herself and her daughters, and with the permission of the earl went to her father's, at a short distance, being directed to return at half-past five. The men-servants were next despatched on errands by their master, who was thus left in the house with the three females only. In a short time afterwards Mr. Johnson came according to his appointment, and was admitted by one of the maid-servants, named Elizabeth Burgeland. He proceeded at once to his lordship's apartment, but was desired to wait in the still-house; and then, after the expiration of about ten minutes, the earl calling him into his own room, went in with him and locked the door. Being thus together, the earl required him first to settle an account, and then charging him with the villany which he attributed to him, ordered him to kneel down. The unfortunate man went down on one knee; upon which the earl, in a tone of voice loud enough to be heard by the maid-servants without, cried, "Down on your other knee; declare that you have acted against Lord Ferrers; your time is come--you must die:" and then suddenly drawing a pistol from his pocket, which was loaded, he presented it and immediately fired. The ball entered the body of the unfortunate man; but he rose up, and entreated that no farther violence might be done him; and the female servants at that time coming to the door, being alarmed by the report, his lordship quitted the room. A messenger was immediately despatched for Mr. Kirkland, a surgeon, who lived at Ashby de la Zouch; and Johnson being put to bed, his lordship went to him and asked him how he felt? He answered that he was dying, and desired that his family might be sent for. Miss Johnson soon after arrived, and Lord Ferrers immediately followed her into the room where her father lay. He then pulled down the clothes, and applied a pledget, dipped in arquebusade water, to the wound, and soon after left him.

From this time it appears that his lordship applied himself to his favourite amusement, drinking, until he became exceedingly violent (for at the time of the commission of the murder he is reported to have been sober), and on the arrival of Mr. Kirkland he told him that he had shot Johnson, but believed he was more frightened than hurt; that he had intended to shoot him dead, for that he was a villain and deserved to die; "but," said he, "now I have spared his life, I desire you would do what you can for him." His lordship at the same time desired that he would not suffer him to be seized, and declared, that if any one should attempt it, he would shoot him. Mr. Kirkland, who wisely determined to say whatever might keep Lord Ferrers from any further outrages, told him that he should not be seized, and directly went to the wounded man.

The patient complained of a violent pain in his bowels; and Mr. Kirkland preparing to search the wound, my lord informed him of the direction of it, by showing him how he held the pistol when he fired it. Mr. Kirkland found the ball had lodged in the body; at which his lordship expressed great surprise, declaring that he had tried that pistol a few days before, and that it then carried a ball through a deal board near an inch and a half thick. Mr. Kirkland then went down stairs to prepare some dressings, and my lord soon after left the room. From this time, in proportion as the liquor which he continued to drink took effect, his passions became more tumultuous, and the transient fit of compassion, mixed with fear for himself, which had excited him, gave way to starts of rage and the predominance of malice. He went up into the room where Johnson was dying, and pulled him by the wig, calling him villain, and threatening to shoot him through the head; and the last time he went to him he was with great difficulty prevented from tearing the clothes off the bed, that he might strike him.

A proposal was made to him in the evening by Mrs. Clifford, that Mr. Johnson should be removed to his own house; but he replied, "He shall not be removed; I will keep him here to plague the villain." He afterwards spoke to Miss Johnson about her father, and told her that if he died, he would take care of her and of the family, provided they did not prosecute.

When his lordship went to bed, which was between eleven and twelve, he told Mr. Kirkland that he knew he could, if he would, set the affair in such a light as to prevent his being seized, desiring that he might see him before he went away in the morning, and declaring that he would rise at any hour.

Mr. Kirkland, however, was very solicitous to get Mr. Johnson removed; and as soon as the earl was gone, he set about carrying his object into effect. He in consequence went to Lount, and having fitted up an easy-chair with poles, by way of a sedan, and procured a guard, he returned at about two o'clock, and carried Mr. Johnson to his house, where he expired at about nine o'clock on the following morning.

The neighbours now began to take measures to secure the murderer, and a few of them having armed themselves, set out for Stanton; and as they entered the yard, they saw his lordship, partly undressed, going towards the stable, as if to take out a horse. One of them, named Springthorpe, then advancing towards his lordship with a pistol in his hand, required him to surrender; but the latter, putting his hand towards his pocket, his assailant, imagining that he was feeling for some weapon of offence, stopped short and allowed him to escape into the house. A great concourse of people by this time had come to the spot, and they cried out loudly that the earl should come forth. Two hours elapsed, however, before anything was seen of him, and then he came to the garret window and called out, "How is Johnson?" He was answered that he was dead; but he said it was a lie, and desired that the people should disperse; but then he gave orders that they should be let in and be furnished with victuals and drink, and finally he went away from the window swearing that no man should take him. The mob still remained on the spot, and in about two hours the earl was descried by a collier, named Curtis, walking on the bowling-green, armed with a blunderbuss, a brace of pistols, and a dagger. Curtis, however, so far from being intimidated by his bold appearance, walked up to him; and his lordship, struck with the resolution he displayed, immediately surrendered himself, and gave up his arms, but directly afterwards declared that he had killed the villain, and gloried in the act. He was instantly conveyed in custody to a public-house at Ashby, kept by a man named Kinsey; and a coroner's jury having brought in a verdict of wilful murder against him, he was on the following Monday committed to the custody of the keeper of the jail at Leicester. Being entitled, however, by his rank to be tried before his peers, he was in about a fortnight afterwards conveyed to London, in his landau, drawn by six horses, under a strong guard; and being carried before the House of Lords, he was committed to the custody of the Black Rod, and ordered to the Tower, where he arrived at about six o'clock in the evening of the 14th February. He is reported to have behaved, during the whole journey and at his commitment, with great calmness and propriety. He was confined in the Round Tower, near the drawbridge: two wardens were constantly in the room with him, and one at the door; two sentinels were posted at the bottom of the stairs, and one upon the drawbridge, with their bayonets fixed; and from this time the gates were ordered to be shut an hour sooner than usual.

During his confinement he was moderate both in eating and drinking; his breakfast was a half-pint basin of tea, with a small spoonful of brandy in it, and a muffin; with his dinner he generally drank a pint of wine and a pint of water, and another pint of each with his supper. In general his behaviour was decent and quiet, except that he would sometimes suddenly start, tear open his waistcoat, and use other gestures, which showed that his mind was disturbed.

Mrs. Clifford and the four young ladies, who had come up with him from Leicestershire, took a lodging in Tower-street, and for some time a servant was continually passing with letters between them: but afterwards this correspondence was permitted only once a day.

Mrs. Clifford came three times to the Tower to see him, but was not admitted; but his children were suffered to be with him some time.

On the 16th of April, having been a prisoner in the Tower two months and two days, he was brought to his trial, which continued till the 18th, before the House of Lords, assembled for that purpose; Lord Henley, keeper of the great seal, having been created lord high steward upon the occasion.

The murder was easily proved to have been committed in the manner we have described; and his lordship then proceeded to enter upon his defence.

He called several witnesses, the object of whose testimony was to show that the earl was not of sound mind, but none of them proved such an insanity as made him not accountable for his conduct. His lordship managed his defence himself, in such a manner as showed an uncommon understanding; he mentioned the fact of his being reduced to the necessity of attempting to prove himself a lunatic, that he might not be deemed a murderer, with the most delicate and affecting sensibility; and, when he found that his plea could not avail him, he confessed that he made it only to gratify his friends; that he was always averse to it himself; and that it had prevented what he had proposed, and what perhaps might have taken off the malignity at least of the accusation.

The peers having in the usual form delivered their verdict of Guilty, his lordship received sentence to be hanged on Monday the 21st of April, and then to be anatomized; but, in consideration of his rank, the execution of this sentence was respited till Monday the 5th of May.

During this interval he made a will, by which he left one thousand three hundred pounds to Mr. Johnson's children; one thousand pounds to each of his four natural daughters; and sixty pounds a year to Mrs. Clifford for her life; but this disposition of his property being made after his conviction, was not valid; although it was said that the same, or nearly the same provision was afterwards made for the parties named.

In the mean time a scaffold was erected under the gallows at Tyburn, and part of it, about a yard square, was raised about eighteen inches above the rest of the floor, with a contrivance to sink down upon a signal given, in accordance with the plan now invariably adopted; the whole being covered with black baize.

On the morning of the 5th May, at about nine o'clock, his lordship's body was demanded of the keeper of the Tower, by the sheriffs of London and Middlesex, and his lordship being informed of it, sent a message to the sheriffs requesting that he might be permitted to be conveyed to the scaffold in his own landau, in preference to the mourning-coach which was provided for him. This being granted, his landau, drawn by six horses, immediately drew up, and he entered it, accompanied by Mr. Humphries, the chaplain of the Tower, who had been admitted to him on that morning for the first time. On the carriage reaching the outer gate, the earl was delivered up to the sheriffs, and Mr. Sheriff Vaillant entered the vehicle with him, expressing his concern at having so melancholy a duty to perform; but his lordship said "he was much obliged to him, and took it kindly that he accompanied him." The earl was attired in a white suit, richly embroidered with silver; and when he put it on he said, "This is the suit in which I was married, and in which I will die." The procession being now formed, moved forward slowly, the landau being preceded by a considerable body of horse grenadiers, and by a carriage containing Mr. Sheriff Errington, and his under sheriff, Mr. Jackson, and being followed by the carriage of Mr. Sheriff Vaillant, containing Mr. Nichols, his under sheriff, a mourning-coach and six, containing some of his lordship's friends, a hearse and six for the conveyance of his body to Surgeon's Hall after execution, and another body of military. The pace at which they proceeded, in consequence of the density of the mob, was so slow, that his lordship was two hours and three quarters in his landau, but during that time he appeared perfectly easy and composed, though he often expressed his anxiety to have the whole affair over, saying "that the apparatus of death, and the passing through such crowds, were worse than death itself," and "that he supposed so large a mob had been collected because the people had never seen a lord hanged before," He told the sheriff that "he had written to the king to beg that he might suffer where his ancestor, the Earl of Essex, had been executed; and that he was in the greater hopes of obtaining that favour, as he had the honour of quartering part of the same arms, and of being allied to his majesty; but that he had refused, and he thought it hard that he must die at the place appointed for the execution of common felons."

Mr. Humphries took occasion to observe, that the world would naturally be very inquisitive concerning the religion his lordship professed, and asked him if he chose to say anything upon that subject; and his lordship answered that he did not think himself accountable to the world for his sentiments on religion; but that he had always believed in and adored one God, the maker of all things; that whatever his notions were, he had never propagated them, or endeavoured to gain any persons over to his persuasion; that all countries and nations had a form of religion by which the people were governed, and that he looked upon any one who disturbed them in it as an enemy to society. That he blamed very much my Lord Bolingbroke for permitting his sentiments on religion to be published to the world. That he never could believe what some sectaries teach, that faith alone will save mankind; so that if a man, just before he dies, should say only "I believe," that alone will save him.

As to the crime for which he suffered, he declared "that he was under particular circumstances--that he had met with so many crosses and vexations, he scarce knew what he did:" and he most solemnly protested "that he had not the least malice against Mr. Johnson."

When his lordship had got to that part of Holborn which is near Drury-lane, he said "he was thirsty, and should be glad of a glass of wine and water;" upon which the sheriffs remonstrating to him, "that a stop for that purpose would necessarily draw a greater crowd about him, which night possibly disturb and incommode him, yet, if his lordship still desired it, it should be done," he most readily answered, "That's true--I say no more--let us by no means stop."

When they approached near the place of execution, his lordship, pointing to Mrs. Clifford, told the sheriff "that there was a person waiting in a coach near there, for whom he had a very sincere regard, and of whom he should be glad to take his leave before he died." The sheriff answered that, "if his lordship insisted upon it, it should be so; but that he wished his lordship, for his own sake, would decline it, lest the sight of a person, for whom he had such a regard, should unman him, and disarm him of the fortitude he possessed." His lordship, without the least hesitation, replied, "Sir, if you think I am wrong, I submit:" and upon the sheriff telling his lordship that if he had anything to deliver to the individual referred to, or any one else, he would faithfully do it, his lordship delivered to him a pocket-book, in which were a bank-note and a ring, and a purse with some guineas, which were afterwards handed over to the unhappy woman.

The landau being now advanced to the place of execution, his lordship alighted from it, and ascended the scaffold with the same composure and fortitude of mind he had exhibited from the time he left the Tower. Soon after he had mounted the scaffold, Mr. Humphries asked his lordship if he chose to say prayers, which he declined; but, upon his asking him "if he did not choose to join with him in the Lord's Prayer," he readily answered "he would, for he always thought it a very fine prayer;" upon which they knelt down together upon two cushions, covered with black baize and his lordship, with an audible voice, very devoutly repeated the Lord's Prayer, and afterwards, with great energy, ejaculated, "O God, forgive me all my errors--pardon all my sins!"

His lordship, then rising, took his leave of the sheriff and the chaplain; and, after thanking them for their many civilities, presented his watch to Mr. Sheriff Vaillant, of which he desired his acceptance; and requested that his body might be buried at Breden or Stanton, in Leicestershire.

The executioner now proceeded to do his duty, to which his lordship, with great resignation, submitted. His neckcloth being taken off, a white cap, which he had brought in his pocket, being put upon his head, his arms secured by a black sash, and the cord put round his neck, he advanced by three steps to the elevated part of the scaffold, and, standing under the cross-beam which went over it, which was also covered with black baize, he asked the executioner "Am I right?" Then the cap was drawn over his face, and, upon a signal given by the sheriff, (for his lordship, upon being before asked, declined to give one himself,) that part upon which he stood instantly sunk down from beneath his feet, and he was launched into eternity May the 5th 1760.

From the time of his lordship's ascending upon the scaffold, until his execution, was about eight minutes; during which his countenance did not change, nor his tongue falter.

The accustomed time of one hour being past, the coffin was raised up, with the greatest decency, to receive the body; and, being deposited in the hearse, was conveyed by the sheriffs, with the same procession, to Surgeons' Hall, to undergo the remainder of the sentence. A large incision was then made from the neck to the bottom of the breast, and another across the throat; the lower part of the belly was laid open, and the bowels taken away. It was afterwards publicly exposed to view in a room up one pair of stairs at the Hall; and on the evening of Thursday, the 8th of May, it was delivered to his friends for interment.

The following verse is said to have been found in his apartment:--

"In doubt I lived, in doubt I die, Yet stand prepared the vast abyss to try, And, undismay'd, expect eternity."

THEODORE GARDELLE.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

This delinquent was a native of Geneva; and besides being a man of good general education, was somewhat celebrated in his native city as a painter on enamel. Unhappy in his domestic concerns, in the year 1760 he repaired to London, and took lodgings in the house of a Mrs. King, who lived in Leicester-fields, and who was the unfortunate subject of his crime.

The circumstances attending the murder were as follow:--On Thursday, 19th February 1761, the servant-girl got up at about seven o'clock in the morning, and being presently called by Gardelle, who occupied an upper apartment, was desired to go on some errands for him.

The girl took the messages, and went to her mistress, who was still in her bedroom, which was the back parlour, telling her what Gardelle had desired her to do; to which her mistress replied, "Nanny, you can't go, for there's nobody to answer at the street door." The girl being willing to oblige Gardelle, answered "that Mr. Gardelle would come down, and sit in the parlour until she came back;" and she then went again to Gardelle, who, in obedience to her wish, proceeded into the front room on the ground floor.

The girl went out, taking the key of the street-door with her to let herself in again, Gardelle then having entered the room next to Mrs. King's apartment.

Immediately after she was gone out, Mrs. King, hearing the tread of somebody in the parlour, called out, "Who is there?" and at the same time opened her chamber door, and saw Gardelle at a table very near the door, who had just then taken up a book that lay upon it. He had some time before drawn Mrs. King's picture, which she wanted to have made very handsome, and had teased him so much about it, that the effect was just contrary; and it happened unfortunately, that the first thing she said to him, when she saw him walking about in the room, was something reproachful about this picture. Provoked at the insult, as he spoke English very imperfectly, for want of a better expression, he told her, with some warmth, "that she was an impertinent woman."

The detail of the whole of the circumstances immediately attending this part of the transaction of necessity could not fall within the knowledge or observation of any witness, and it is therefore derived from a statement drawn up by Gardelle while in custody; but having stated the facts already mentioned, he says that this insult threw Mrs. King into a transport of rage, and she gave him a blow with her fist on the breast, so violent that he could not have thought it could have been given by a woman. As soon as the blow was struck she drew a little back; and at the same instant he laid his hand on her shoulder, and pushed her from him, rather in contempt than anger, or with a design to hurt her; but her foot happening to catch in the floor-cloth, she fell backwards, and her head came with great force against the corner of the bedstead. The blood immediately gushed from her mouth, not in a continued stream, but as if by different strokes of a pump, and he instantly ran to her, expressing his concern at the accident; but she pushed him away, and threatened, though in a feeble and interrupted voice, to punish him for what he had done. He was terrified at the thought of being condemned for a criminal act upon her accusation, and again attempted to assist her by raising her up, as the blood still flowed from her mouth in great quantities; but she exerted all her strength to keep him off, and still cried out, mixing threats with her screams. He then seized an ivory comb, with a sharp taper point continued from the back for adjusting the curls of her hair, which lay upon her toilet, and threatened her in his turn to prevent her crying out; but she still continuing to scream, though with a voice still fainter and fainter, he struck her with this instrument, probably in the throat, upon which the blood poured from her mouth in yet greater quantities, and her voice was quite stopped. He then drew the bed-clothes over her to prevent her blood from spreading on the floor, and to hide her from his sight; and he stood some time motionless by her, and then fell down by her side in a swoon. When he came to himself he perceived the maid was come in, and he therefore went out of the room without examining the body to see if the unhappy woman was quite dead; and his confusion was then so great that he staggered against the wainscot, and hit his head so as to raise a bump over his eye.

It appears that he subsequently sent the girl away, informing her that he had her mistress's orders to dismiss her, and paid ten shillings for her wages; and the latter having been unable to find either her mistress or Gardelle on her first returning to the house, and knowing the former to be a woman of light character, concluded that they must have been in bed together, and that her mistress being ashamed to meet her, determined to get rid of her. Her suspicions were not at all raised therefore, and she went away, informing Gardelle that Mr. Wright, who lodged in the house, but had been out of town, would return that evening with his servant. On her departure, the first thing that Gardelle did was to go into the chamber to Mrs. King, whom, upon examination, he found quite dead. He therefore took off the blankets and sheets with which he had covered her, stripped off the shift, and laid the body quite naked upon the bed. Before this, he said, his linen was not stained; but it was much discoloured by his removing the body. He then took the two blankets, the sheets, the coverlet, and one of the curtains, and put them into the water-tub in the back wash-house to soak, they being all much stained with blood. Her shift he carried up stairs, and putting it into a bag, concealed it under his bed. His own shirt, now bloody, he pulled off, and locked it up in a drawer of his bureau.

When all this was done, he went and sat down in the parlour, and soon after, it being about nine o'clock, Mr. Wright's servant, whose name was Pelsey, came in without his master, who had changed his mind, and was gone to a gentleman's house in Castle-street. He went up into his room, the garret, and sat there till about eleven o'clock, when he came down, and finding Gardelle still in the parlour, he asked if Mrs. King was come home, and who must sit up for her? Gardelle said she was not come home, but that he would sit up for her. In the morning, Friday, when Pelsey came down stairs, he again asked if Mrs. King was come home, and Gardelle told him that she had been at home, but was gone again; and he subsequently said that she was gone to Bath or Bristol. The demeanour of Gardelle was soon observed by Pelsey to be much changed, and fancying that it was in consequence of the absence of Mrs. King, he went into the Haymarket, and procured a girl of unfortunate character named Walker to go and stay in the house with him. A Mrs. Pritchard was also engaged as charwoman, and still, no suspicions being entertained, all the parties continued to live in the house. On the Saturday morning, Gardelle first took steps to dispose of the body of the deceased woman, and no plan struck him as being so readily to be carried out as that of a gradual destruction of its members by fire. He accordingly proceeded to light a fire in the garret, whither he carried the bones, from which he had previously scraped the flesh, and burned them. All went on well until the Tuesday morning, when Pelsey, who was going up to his master's room, smelt something offensive, and asked Gardelle, who was pushing up the sash of the window on the staircase, what it was? Gardelle replied, somebody had put a bone in the fire. At night Pelsey renewed his inquiries after Mrs. King, and Gardelle answered, with a seeming impatience, "Me know not of Mrs. King; she give me a great deal of trouble, but me shall hear of her on Wednesday or Thursday."

On Tuesday night he told Walker he would sit up till Mrs. King came home, though he had before told her she was out of town, and desired her to go to bed; and as soon as she was gone, he renewed his horrid employment of cutting the body to pieces, and disposing of it in different places. The bowels he threw down the necessary; and the flesh of the body and limbs, cut to pieces, he scattered about in the cock-loft, where he supposed they would dry and perish without putrefaction.

Wednesday passed like the preceding days; and on Thursday he told his female companion that he expected Mrs. King home in the evening, and therefore desired that she would provide herself a lodging, giving her at the same time two of Mrs. King's shifts; and being thus dismissed, she went away.

Pritchard, the charwoman, still continued in her office, and through her means the murder was discovered. The water having failed in the cistern on the Tuesday, she had recourse to that in the water-tub in the back kitchen. Upon pulling out the spigot a little water ran out; but, as there appeared to be more in, she got upon a ledge, and putting her hand in, she felt something soft. She then fetched a poker, and pressing down the contents of the tub, she got water in a pail. She informed Pelsey of the circumstance, and they agreed the first opportunity to see what the things in the water-tub were; yet so languid was their curiosity, and so careless were they of the event, that it was Thursday before the tub was examined. They found in it the blankets, sheets, and coverlet, that Gardelle had put in to soak; and after spreading, shaking, and looking at them, they put them again into the tub; and the next morning, when Pelsey came down, he saw the curtain hanging on the banisters of the kitchen stairs. Upon looking down, he saw Gardelle just come out at the wash-house door, where the tub stood. When Pritchard the charwoman came, he asked her if she had been taking the curtain out of the tub, and she said "No." She then went and looked in the tub, and found the sheets had been wrung out. Upon this the first step was taken towards inquiring after the unhappy woman, who had now lain dead more than a week in the house. Pelsey found out the maid whom Gardelle had dismissed, and suspicions being excited that Mrs. King had been unfairly dealt with, the aid of the police was obtained. Gardelle was then apprehended, and his answers to the questions put to him being of a very equivocal nature, a search was made in the house, and the remains of the body being discovered, disposed of as we have already mentioned, as well as the linen of the deceased, and of the prisoner, stained with blood, his guilt was considered to be fully established, and he was committed to Newgate for trial. While in that prison he made two attempts to destroy himself by taking laudanum, and by swallowing halfpence to the number of twelve; but although he was considerably injured by the latter attempt, he failed in securing his object. He afterwards showed strong marks of penitence and contrition, and behaved with great humility, openness, and courtesy, to those who visited him.

On Thursday, the 2d of April, he was tried at the Old Bailey; and, in his defence, he insisted only that he had no malice to the deceased, and that her death was the consequence of the fall. He was convicted, and sentenced to be executed on Saturday, the 4th of the same month. The account which he wrote in prison, and which is mentioned in this narrative, is dated the 28th of March, though he did not communicate it till after his trial. The night after his condemnation, his behaviour was extravagant and outrageous; but the next morning he was composed and quiet, and said he had slept three or four hours in the night. When he was asked why he did not make his escape, he answered that he feared some innocent person might then suffer in his stead.

He was executed April the 4th 1761, amidst the shouts and hisses of an indignant populace, in the Haymarket, near Panton-street, to which he was led by Mrs. King's house, where the cart made a stop. His body was hung in chains upon Hounslow Heath.

JOHN M'NAUGHTON, ESQ.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

John M'Naughton, Esq. was the son of a merchant at Derry, whose father had been an alderman of Dublin. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin; and on his coming of age he entered into a landed estate of six hundred pounds a year, in the county of Tyrone, which was left him by Dr. M'Naughton, his uncle. The first vice he fell into was that of gaming, by which he very soon did great injury to his fortune; and though he continued (as most novices do who play with sharpers) in a constant run of ill luck, and was soon obliged to mortgage his property, yet his losses made no visible alteration in his temper. Although he was of a most passionate disposition, his pride kept him within due bounds there. All was placid with the polite M'Naughton; and he lost his money to the very last with that graceful composure that became the man who had a plentiful fortune to support it. But strong as his passion this way might be, it was not powerful enough to secure him against the attacks of love, and becoming attached to a young lady he very speedily married her. The reader may well suppose that the expenses of a wife and family in Dublin must soon increase his difficulties, and introduce a new scene of troubles; and it did so in a manner and with an effect which was most unhappy for Mr. M'Naughton. It appears that a writ having been issued against him at the suit of one of his creditors, the sheriff's officer obtained access to his house by a stratagem, on which he flew into a rage, and calling out for pistols, he frighted his poor listening wife to such a degree that premature labour followed, and she died in childbed.

The feelings of the unfortunate husband upon the occurrence of this melancholy event were most distressing, and he made repeated attempts upon his life; but a change of scene being recommended, he was conveyed to the country, where every attention was paid to his health, while his fortune also was nursed with equal care. On his return to the gaiety of the Irish metropolis, he soon resumed that worst of passions--gaming, and again became the dupe of others, while his property was once more seriously diminished. At this time he made secret advances to Miss Knox, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of Richard Knox, Esq. of Prohen in the county of Derry, who was possessed of a handsome fortune, and whose promise of marriage he obtained, in the event of her father's consent being given. On that consent being requested, however, it was at once refused, on account of the youth of the young lady, whose age did not exceed sixteen years; and Mr. Knox was so resolute in his refusal, that he forbade the suitor for his daughter's hand ever to enter the house again. Mr. M'Naughton begged that this latter injunction might be withdrawn, urging that it would appear strange to the world that his friendship with a family, with which he had been so intimate, should be so suddenly broken off; and upon his promising upon his honour, that the subject of the marriage should not be again mentioned, and declaring that he had not previously spoken of it to the young lady herself, his visits were allowed to be repeated. In the mean time he continued his addresses to the young lady, and informed her that he had obtained the consent of her father, but that the marriage must be postponed for a year or two, when some material business would be settled, which was required to be decided first; and under this assurance she no longer withheld the confession that the passion of her admirer was returned, and appeared to delight most in the company of the man whom she looked upon as her future husband.

All her hopes were, however, soon doomed to be blasted. One day being in company with M'Naughton and a little boy in a retired room in the house, he pressed her to marry him, protesting he never could be happy till he was sure of her; and with an air of sprightly raillery, pulling out a prayer-book, he began to read the marriage service, and insisted on the young lady making the responses, which she did; but to every one she always added, "provided her father consented."

Some short time after this, Miss Knox going to a friend's house on a week's visit, Mr. M'Naughton, being also an intimate there, soon followed her; and here he fixed his scene for action. After a day or two he claimed her, and, calling her his wife, insisted on consummation; but the young lady absolutely refused to comply, and leaving the house, went directly and informed her uncle of the whole affair. On this Mr. Knox wrote a letter to M'Naughton, telling him what a base dishonourable villain he was, and bade him avoid his sight for ever; but upon the receipt of this letter M'Naughton advertised his marriage in the public newspapers, cautioning every other man not to marry his lawful wife. This vile attack was answered by a very spirited and proper advertisement from the father, with an affidavit of the whole affair from the daughter annexed; and Mr. Knox having commenced a suit in the Prerogative Court, the marriage was declared invalid. Mr. M'Naughton having absconded to avoid his debts, could not now appeal to the Court of Delegates, and the original decree was confirmed. Judge Scott in consequence issued his warrant for the apprehension of the defendant, who was liable to pay costs; and M'Naughton, hearing of this, wrote a most impudent threatening letter to the judge, and, it is said, lay in wait to have him murdered, but missed him by the judge's taking another road. Upon this the judge applied to the lord chief justice, who issued another writ against him, which drove him to England.

In the summer of 1761, Mr. M'Naughton returned to Ireland, and by constantly hovering round Mr. Knox's house, obliged the family to be upon their guard, and the young lady to live like a recluse.

About the middle of the summer, however, she ventured to a place called Swaddling Bar to drink the mineral waters there for her health; but even thither this unhappy man followed her, and he was seen in a beggar's habit dogging her footsteps. Thus disguised he was detected; and when warned never to appear there again, he swore, in the presence of several, that he would murder the whole family if he did not get possession of his wife--a threat which he subsequently attempted to carry out. Notwithstanding his violence, it appears that he was permitted again to escape to London; and he remained there until the month of October in the same year. At the beginning of November he was again seen in Ireland; and having approached the residence of the Knoxes, he was known to sleep with three of his accomplices, at the house of a hearth-money collector, very nearly adjoining the abode of his intended victim. The 10th was the day fixed upon by him for the attack; and on that morning M'Naughton, with his companions, went to a cabin on the road-side with a sack full of fire arms, in order to await the passing of Mr. Knox's coach, in which it was known the family were about to proceed to Dublin. One of the men was despatched to ascertain the moment of the coming of the vehicle; and when it appeared in sight, having obtained the information requisite for its identification, he hurried back to desire the projector of the scheme to prepare. It appears that the only persons in the carriage were Mr. Knox and his wife, their daughter and a maid-servant; and they were attended only by one livery-servant, and a faithful fellow, a smith, who was foster-father to Miss Knox, and whom no bribe could ever purchase, although most of the other servants had been tampered with. As soon as the coach came near the cabin, two of the villains, armed with guns, presented themselves to the postilion and coachman, and stopped the horses, while M'Naughton fired at the smith with a blunderbuss. The latter escaped being wounded, and presented his piece in return, but it unfortunately missed fire, and M'Naughton and one of his companions seizing the opportunity, again fired, and both of them wounded him. Mr. Knox at this time drew up the blinds of the carriage, and M'Naughton observing this, ran round to the other side, and firing in at the window obliquely, with a gun loaded with five balls, shot Miss Knox, all the balls taking effect in her body. The maid-servant now let down the window, screaming that her mistress was murdered; and the livery-servant on hearing this came from behind a peat-stack, where he had concealed himself for safety, and firing at M'Naughton, wounded him in the back; and about the same time Mr. Knox from the coach discharged a pistol, which was the last of eight shots fired on this strange and dreadful occasion.

The murderer and his accomplices now immediately fled; and Miss Knox being carried into the cabin, died in about three hours. An attack so bold and so diabolical in its nature excited the greatest degree of interest; and large rewards were instantly offered for the apprehension of the perpetrator of the murder. For a considerable time all search proved fruitless; but at length a corporal of Sir James Caldwell's company of Light Horse secured him under the following circumstances:--It appears that the corporal had received instructions to search the house and offices of one Wenslow, a farmer, and had examined every place without success, when he bethought himself of a stratagem, by which to obtain the requisite information of the murderer's hiding-place. Observing a fellow digging potatoes in a piece of ground behind the stables, he remarked in his hearing that it was a great pity that M'Naughton could not be found, for that the person who discovered his retreat would be sure of a reward of 300_l._ The bait took, and the peasant pointed to a barn, and thither the corporal and his assistants immediately proceeded. The door was fast, but they at length forced it open, and then they found the object of their search standing with a gun at his shoulder, apparently determined to resist all efforts made to secure him. On the appearance of the corporal he fired at him, but without wounding him; and a shot from the corporal's gun striking him on the wrist, he was compelled to surrender.

He was immediately secured and carried to Lifford jail, where he remained in the closest confinement until the 8th December, 1761, when he was put upon his trial, with an accomplice named Dunlap before Mr. Baron Mountney and Mr. Justice Scott, on a special commission.

M'Naughton, still suffering from the effects of the wounds which he had received, was brought into court on a bier, rolled in a blanket, and wearing the shirt in which he was taken, still smeared with blood. His beard had grown to an enormous length, and his head was wrapped in a greasy woollen night-cap. In that condition he made a long speech, pointedly and sensibly; and complained in the most pathetic manner of the hard usage he had met with since his confinement. He said "they had treated him like a man under sentence, and not like a man that was to be tried." He declared, with tears in his eyes, that he never intended to kill his dear wife, but that he only designed to take her away.

The case lasted five days, a considerable portion of the first day being occupied in pleadings to postpone the trial, and the reply of the counsel for the crown. During these debates M'Naughton often spoke with most amazing spirit and judgment; but the result was, that he was ordered to prepare his affidavit, which the Court would take into consideration. Accordingly, on the 9th, he was brought into Court again, and his affidavit read, in which he swore that some material witnesses for him were not to be had, particularly one Owens, who, he said, was present all the time; but the Court were of opinion that no sufficient reason for the application was shown, and the trial in consequence proceeded. During the whole proceedings M'Naughton took his notes as regularly as any of the lawyers, and cross-examined all the witnesses with the greatest accuracy, and he was observed to behave with uncommon resolution.

His chief defence was founded on a letter he produced, as written to him by Miss Knox, in which she desired him to intercept her on the road to Dublin, and take her away; but this letter was proved a forgery of his own, which after condemnation he confessed. He took great pains to exculpate himself from the least design to murder any one, much less his dear wife (as he always called her); he declared solemnly that his intent was only to take her out of the coach, and carry her off; but as he received the first wound, from the first shot that was fired, the anguish of that wound, and the prospect of his ill success in his design, so distracted him that, being wholly involved in confusion and despair, he fired he knew not at what or whom, and had the misfortune to kill the only person in the world that was dear to him; that he gave the Court that trouble, and laboured thus, not to save his life,--for death was now his choice,--but to clear his character from such horrid guilt as that which was ascribed to him. The jury, however, found both prisoners guilty; and M'Naughton received the intimation without any concern, declaring that "they had acquitted themselves with justice to the country." Mr. Baron Mountney then pronounced upon both prisoners the awful sentence which the law directed; and although the Court were visibly affected by the manner in which this painful duty was performed, M'Naughton remained unconcerned. He prayed the Court to have mercy upon Dunlap, alleging that he was his tenant, and had been compelled by him to participate with him in the transaction, under pain of losing a lease, which he hoped to be renewed; but he declared that life was not worth asking for himself, for that his wife being dead, the better half of himself was gone, and he had nothing to remain for in this world.

Tuesday the 15th December, 1761, was fixed upon for the execution of these criminals; but it appears that some difficulty was experienced in carrying the sentence into effect. For a long time no carpenter could be found to make the gallows, and the sheriff looked out for a tree proper for the purpose, and the execution must have been performed on it, had not the uncle of the young lady, and some other gentlemen, made the gallows, and put it up. The sheriff was afterwards obliged to take a party of soldiers, and force a smith to take off the prisoners' bolts, otherwise he must have been obliged, contrary to law, to execute them with their bolts on. The time for the execution having arrived, M'Naughton, attended by his fellow prisoner, walked to the place of execution, but, being weak of his wounds, was supported between two men. The former was dressed in a white flannel waistcoat trimmed with black buttons and holes, a diaper night-cap tied with a black riband, white stockings, mourning-buckles, and a crape tied on his arm. He desired the executioner to be speedy; and the fellow pointing to the ladder, he mounted with great spirit. The moment he was tied up he jumped from it with such vehemence as snapped the rope, and he fell to the ground, but without dislocating his neck, or doing himself much injury. When they had raised him on his legs again, he soon recovered his senses; and the executioner borrowing the rope from Dunlap, and fixing it round M'Naughton's neck, he went up the ladder a second time, and tying the rope himself to the gallows, he jumped from it again with the same force, and appeared dead in a minute.

The spectators, who saw him drop when the rope broke, looked upon it as some contrivance for his escape, which they favoured all they could by running away from the place, and leaving it open.

Dunlap was afterwards turned off in the usual manner, in sight of the dangling body of his accomplice and master.

JOHN SMITH AND ROBERT MAYNE.

EXECUTED FOR A MUTINY ON BOARD THE KING GEORGE.

On the trial of these men, with five more of the crew, it appeared that disputes arose on board the King George, a fine privateer, of thirty-two guns and two hundred men, commanded by Captain Reed, and cruising against the enemies of the country, concerning some prize wine, which was stowed in the hold, some of the crew insisting on its being hoisted up to be used for the whole ship's company. This would have been attended, in their situation, with both difficulty and danger, and was consequently opposed by Captain Reed and his officers; and being disappointed, a factious discontented set endeavoured to corrupt the remainder, and soon gained over so formidable a party, that they determined to seize the ship, and turn pirates in the Indian seas. In order to effect this, off Cape Ortugal, the mutineers demanded the keys of the arm-chests, and on the refusal of their request, they drove the captain and officers into the cabin.

They then placed a guard at the door, and brought a nine-pounder carriage-gun, loaded with round and grape shot, to fire among the officers; but were prevailed upon to desist by the entreaties of Mr. Gardener, the sailing master.

They then offered the latter the command of the ship, acquainting him with their intention of steering for the East Indies; but on his refusal they put him under a guard, and took the ship into their own care, until they had, for want of skill, nearly lost her. They then released Mr. Gardener, and gave him the helm; when he steered into Camarinas, in Spain, where most of the mutineers took to the boats, and made their escape.

Such as were apprehended were brought to trial; and though two more, viz. Thomas Baldwin and Laurence Tierman, were found guilty, yet Smith and Mayne, who were the ringleaders of the mutiny, only were hanged. They suffered at Execution Dock, May the 10th, 1762.

They were both Irishmen, and Roman Catholics, and were attended by a priest of that religion.

A few years after this affair a mutiny broke out among the crew of the Namur, of ninety guns. Fifteen were tried, found guilty, and ordered to be hanged; and they were taken for execution on board the Royal Ann, with halters round their necks. While waiting for the fatal gun being fired, however, they were told that his majesty had pardoned fourteen of them, but one of them must die; and they were ordered to cast lots.

How exquisite must have been the feelings of these miserable men at the awful moment of deciding on the fate of one! The fatal lot fell upon the second man that drew, Matthew M'Can, who was soon run up to the yard-arm, where the body hung nearly an hour.

The pardoned seamen were turned over to the Grafton and the Sunderland, under sailing orders for the East Indies.

HANNAH DAGOE.

EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.

There is so much eccentricity in the mode in which this unhappy wretch terminated her existence, that, although the circumstances of the robbery for which she was convicted are not of an interesting nature, we cannot forbear mentioning her case.

We have adduced many instances of hardness of heart, and contempt of the commandments of God, in men who have undergone the last sentence of the law; but we are of opinion that in this woman will be found a more relentless heart, in her last moments, than any criminal whom we have yet recorded.

Hannah Dagoe was born in Ireland, and was one of that numerous class of women who ply at Covent Garden market as basket-women. In the pursuit of her vocation, she became acquainted with a poor and industrious woman of the name of Eleanor Hussey, who lived by herself in a small apartment, in which was some creditable household furniture, the remains of the worldly goods of her deceased husband. Seizing an opportunity, when the owner was from home, this daring woman broke into Hussey's room, and stripped it of every article which it contained.

For this burglary and robbery she was brought to trial at the Old Bailey, found guilty, and sentenced to death.

She was a strong masculine woman, the terror of her fellow prisoners, and actually stabbed one of the men who had given evidence against her; but the wound happened not to prove dangerous.

On the road to Tyburn she showed little concern at her miserable state, and paid no attention to the exhortations of the Romish priest who attended her. When the cart, in which she was bound, was drawn under the gallows, she got her hands and arms loose, seized the executioner, struggled with him, and gave him so violent a blow on the breast as nearly knocked him down. She dared him to hang her; and in order to revenge herself upon him, and cheat him of his dues, she took off her hat, cloak, and other parts of her dress, and disposed of them among the crowd. After much resistance he got the rope about her neck, which she had no sooner found accomplished, than, pulling out a handkerchief, she bound it round her head, over her face, and threw herself out of the cart, before the signal given, with such violence, that she broke her neck and died instantly.

This extraordinary and unprecedented scene occurred on the 4th May, 1763.

BARNEY CARROL AND WILLIAM KING.

EXECUTED FOR CUTTING AND MAIMING.

These men had served their country as soldiers, and it is remarkable that having in that capacity conducted themselves with great bravery, and earned for themselves well-merited rewards, they should afterwards have resorted to such atrocious means of procuring a livelihood, as from this case it will appear they adopted. Having returned to England from the Havannah, where their regiment had been stationed, they obtained their discharge, and determined to commence robbers on a plan of the most infamous cruelty. This consisted in their procuring two young thieves, named Byfield and Mathews, to go before them and to pick pockets; and in case of their being detected and seized, their villanous employers would run up, and by maiming the person holding the boys, generally by cutting him across the eyes, would procure their release. The offence for which they were executed, was committed on the 17th June, 1765; and it appears that a gentleman named Kirby was selected by the gang as a fit object for attack. Mr. Kirby, however, detected Byfield in picking his pocket, and before he could withdraw his hand, he seized him and threatened to carry him before the magistrates. His intention was not to pursue this threat, but in order to terrify the boy, he dragged him a considerable distance through the Strand, where the circumstance had occurred. Carrol soon came up to him, and demanded the boy's release; but Byfield guessing that he would be permitted to escape, told him to keep off, for that the gentleman would let him go. The answer given by the ruffian was "Damn him, but I will cut him," and instantly drawing his knife, he gave Mr. Kirby a severe cut over the face. A Mr. Carr at the moment came up to the assistance of Mr. Kirby, and seized Carrol's arm, and at this instant Kirby, letting go the boy, struck at Carrol; but the blow happening to fall on Mr. Carr's hand, the villain made his escape. The rogues then ran off towards St. Clement's church, and escaped through an alley into Wych Street, though closely pursued by the gentleman.

Mr. Kirby now felt great pain, but had no idea that he had been wounded by any sharp instrument; but, putting his hand to his face, he found that it streamed with blood. Going to the Crown and Anchor Tavern in the Strand, Mr. Ingram, a surgeon of eminence, almost immediately attended him; and although the utmost expedition was used in calling in the assistance of that gentleman, Mr. Kirby had lost near two quarts of blood in the short interval.

On examination, it appeared that the wound was given in a transverse direction, from the right eye to the left temple; that two large vessels were divided by it; that there was a cut across the nose, which left the bone visible; and that the eye-balls must have been divided by the slightest deviation from the stroke.

The abominable assassins were very soon apprehended, and found guilty under the Coventry Act, and hanged at Tyburn, July 31, 1765, amid the execrations of an enraged multitude.

The "Coventry Act" is a statute of the 22d and 23d Charles II.; its provision in respect of this crime is to the following effect:--"If any person, on purpose, and by malice aforethought, and by laying in wait, shall unlawfully cut or disable the tongue, put out an eye, slit the nose, cut off a nose or lip, or cut off or disable any limb or member of any subject, with intention, in so doing, to maim or disfigure him, the person so offending, his counsellors, aiders, abettors (knowing of, and privy to, the offence), shall be guilty of felony, without benefit of clergy." It is called the Coventry Act because it was passed on Sir John Coventry being assaulted, and having his nose slit in the street; and the following anecdote is related of the circumstances under which this outrage was committed.

In the committee of ways and means, in the House of Commons, it had been resolved that, towards the supply, every one that resorts to any of the playhouses, who sits in the boxes, shall pay one shilling; every one who sits in the pit shall pay sixpence; and every other person threepence. This resolution (to which the House disagreed upon the report) was opposed in the committee by the courtiers, who gave for a reason "That the players were the king's servants, and a part of his pleasure." To this Sir John Coventry, one of the members, by way of reply, asked "Whether the king's pleasure lay among the men or among the women players?" This being reported at court, it was highly resented; and a resolution was privately taken to set a mark on Sir John, to prevent others from taking the like liberties.

December the 20th was the night that the House of Commons adjourned for the Christmas holidays. On the 25th, one of the Duke of Monmouth's troop of life-guards and some few foot, lay in wait from ten at night till two in the morning, by Suffolk Street; and as Sir John returned from the tavern, where he supped, to his own house, they threw him down, and, with a knife, cut the end of his nose almost off; but company coming made them fearful to finish it.

The debates which this affair occasioned in the House of Commons ran very high, and one of the members emphatically called the attack on Coventry "A horrid un-English act."

The result was that the statute in question was passed.

PETER M'KINLIE, GEORGE GIDLEY, ANDREW ZEKERMAN, AND RICHARD ST. QUINTIN.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

This case exhibits a remarkable series of adventures which occurred to the unfortunate man, who, after having survived many engagements and imprisonments, was doomed to become one of the victims of a horrid and piratical scheme.

The unfortunate Captain Glass was the son of a minister of the Church of Scotland, who obtained some notice from his writings, in which he opposed the practice of religion according to particular forms, and was founder of a sect called Glassites. At an early period of his life, young Glass exhibited talents of no ordinary character; and having taken a degree of Master of Arts at one of the Scotch universities, he applied himself to the study of medicine. He made rapid progress in this new line of learning; and after he had taken the necessary degrees, was employed as a surgeon on board a trading vessel bound for the coast of Guinea, and in that capacity he afterwards made several voyages to America. His superior qualifications gained him a distinguished place in the esteem of several merchants, who entrusted to him the command of a vessel in the Guinea trade; and his conduct proved highly to the advantage of his owners, and equally honourable to himself.

When the war against France was declared, Captain Glass found himself in possession of a very considerable sum, a great part of which he determined to venture on board a privateer; and he, in consequence, caused a vessel to be fitted out with all possible expedition, and took the command on himself.

In about ten days after they had commenced this voyage, they made prize of a ship, richly laden, belonging to France, which they carried into a port in the West Indies; but soon afterwards, being obliged to engage two vessels of war, after an obstinate contest they were compelled to submit to the superior power of the enemy and strike, but not until Captain Glass had been severely wounded and most of his men slain. The captain being conveyed to France, was there consigned to a prison; but an interchange of prisoners taking place, he once more trod on British ground.

Nothing daunted by the unsuccessful termination of his first venture, he tried a second expedition of a similar character, in which he was equally unfortunate, and was once again consigned to the keeping of a French jailor, in whose custody he remained until the termination of the war. He next conceived a design of sailing in search of discoveries; and in pursuance of this plan he purchased a vessel adapted to his purpose; and having carefully made every necessary preparation for the prosecution of his object, he directed his course towards the coast of Africa. Between the river Senegal and Cape de Verd he discovered a commodious harbour, from which he entertained the reasonable expectation that very great commercial advantages might be derived; and he returned to England, and communicated his discovery to government, who granted him an exclusive trade to the harbour for the space of twenty years.

That he might be able to pursue his project with the greater advantage, he now engaged in partnership with two or three gentlemen of fortune; and a vessel furnished with all necessary articles being again prepared, he sailed for the newly discovered harbour, and arrived at it in safety. He soon found, however, that the habits of the natives would not permit any friendly intercourse to be maintained between them; and being in great distress for provisions, the captain and three men proceeded in an open boat to the Canary Isles. During their absence the natives made an attack upon the vessel, but were repulsed; and the first mate, who had been left in command of her, thought fit to sheer off, and having in vain sought his captain, at length returned to England. Glass and his companions meanwhile had arrived at one of the Canary islands, and having landed, with a view of petitioning to be allowed to purchase provisions, was instantly seized by order of the governor, and conveyed to a dungeon as a spy. In this situation he remained for six months; but at length he made one of his countrymen, a sailor, acquainted with his condition by writing his name and the nature of his miseries on a biscuit with a piece of charcoal, and throwing it to him through his prison window when he was passing beneath. The sailor immediately conveyed it to his commander; but the latter on making application for his release was himself seized and subjected to treatment of similar severity. The news of this circumstance was, however, directly carried to England by a vessel, which was on the point of sailing; and speedy complaint being made to the Spanish government, the liberty of the two captains was soon obtained. At about this time the wife and daughter of Captain Glass had arrived at the Canaries, in consequence of the reports which had reached them of his captivity, and the first joy of again meeting being passed, they all embarked on board a ship bound for London, commanded by a Captain Cockeran. Miss Glass at this time was a young lady about twelve years of age, and ill deserving the fate which awaited her, as well as her parents. It appears that while the ship lay at the Canaries, a plot was concerted between Peter M'Kinlie, the boatswain, a native of Ireland; George Gidley the cook, born in the west of Yorkshire; Richard St. Quintin, a native of the same county; and Andrew Zekerman a Dutchman--for murdering all the other persons on board, and seizing the treasure, which, including what Captain Glass had shipped in behalf of himself and his partners, amounted to a hundred thousand pounds in dollars. The villains made three attempts on different nights to carry their horrid plan into execution, but were prevented through the circumspection of their commander.

At length, however, the conspirators were appointed to the night-watch on the 13th of November, when the ship had reached the British Channel; and about midnight the captain going upon the quarter-deck to see that all things were disposed in proper order, upon his return he was seized by the boatswain, who held him while Gidley struck him with an iron bar, and fractured his skull. Two of the seamen who were not concerned in the conspiracy, hearing the captain's groans, came upon deck, and were immediately murdered, and, with their captain, were thrown overboard.

Captain Glass, being alarmed, went up the gangway, and judging that a mutiny had arisen, returned to fetch his sword. M'Kinlie, guessing his design, followed him down the steps leading to the cabin, and waited in the dark till he returned with a drawn sword in his hand, when getting unperceived behind him, he seized both his arms, and then called to his accomplices to murder him. Captain Glass, being a very powerful man, had nearly disengaged himself from the ruffian, when Zekerman came up and attacked him. The captain wounded him in the arm; but before he could recover his sword he was overpowered, and the other villains soon joined their associates. The unhappy man was no sooner disarmed than he was many times run through the body, and he was then immediately thrown overboard. Mrs. Glass and her daughter, terrified by the outcry, now came on deck, and falling on their knees, supplicated for mercy; but they found the villains utterly destitute of the tender feelings of humanity; and Zekerman telling them to prepare for death, they embraced each other in a most affectionate manner, and were then forced from each other's arms, and thrown into the sea.

Having now put all the crew to death, excepting a boy who attended Captain Glass, and another boy who was an apprentice on board the ship, the murderers steered towards the Irish coast, and on the 3rd of December found themselves within ten leagues of the harbour of Ross. They then hoisted out the long-boat, and put into it dollars to the amount of two tons; and after knocking out the windows of the ballast ports, rowed towards shore, leaving the two boys to sink with the vessel. Captain Glass's boy could not swim, and he was therefore soon drowned; but the other lad swam to the boat, when Zekerman struck him a violent blow on the breast, which caused him immediately to sink.

Having thus massacred eight innocent persons, the villains proceeded to the mouth of the river Ross; but thinking it would be dangerous to go up the river with so much riches, they buried two hundred and fifty bags of dollars in the sand, and conveyed as much treasure as they could possibly bear about their persons to a village called Fishertown, where they stopped for refreshment. On the following day they went to Ross, and there sold twelve hundred dollars; and, having purchased each a pair of pistols, and hired horses for themselves and two guides, they rode to Dublin, and took up their residence at the Black Bull in Thomas-street.

The wreck of the ship was driven on shore on the day of their leaving Ross; and the manner in which the villains had lived at Fishertown and Ross, their general behaviour, and other circumstances, being understood as grounds for suspicion of their being pirates, an express was despatched by two gentlemen to the lords of the regency at Dublin, exhibiting the several causes of suspicion, and giving a particular description of the supposed delinquents.

On examining the wreck a sampler worked by Miss Glass was found, from which it appeared that a part of the work was done on her birthday, which afterwards turned out to be the day preceding that on which the murders were perpetrated; and the sampler proved a principal means of leading to a discovery of the guilt of these abominable villains.

The gentlemen who were commissioned to attend the lords of the regency had no sooner communicated their business than the lord mayor and sheriffs were sent for; and proper instructions being given them, they on the same night caused M'Kinlie and Zekerman to be taken into custody. The prisoners were separately examined; and they both confessed the particulars of their guilt, and that their accomplices had that morning hired a post-chaise for Cork, where they meant to embark on board a vessel bound for England. Gidley and St. Quintin were then on the next day secured at an inn on the road to Cork; and they followed the example of the other prisoners in acknowledging themselves guilty. The sheriff of Ross took possession of the effects found in the wreck, and the bags of dollars that the villains had buried in the sand, and deposited the whole in the treasury of Dublin for the benefit of the proprietors.

The prisoners being brought to trial, they confessed themselves guilty of the charges alleged in the indictment; and they were condemned, and suffered death on the 19th of December, 1765, after which their bodies were hung in chains in the neighbourhood of Dublin.

FATHER SHEEBY, JAMES BUXTON, AND JAMES FARRELL, OTHERWISE CALLED BUCK FARRELL.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

About the year 1766 Ireland was first visited by an atrocious gang, calling themselves White Boys, who committed numerous atrocities in armed bodies, but whose deeds of blood at this time were only a prelude to those scenes of horror which have continued to be enacted even up to the present day. They were encouraged, it was reported, by a number of disaffected Roman Catholic priests, who seduced various misguided men of property of their persuasion to connive at and assist them in their nefarious practices.

In the present instance, Father Sheeby, a Romish priest, persuaded Mr. Buxton, a gentleman of great property, and Mr. Farrell, a gay, thoughtless youth, of good family, and many others, to murder several Protestants who opposed the depredations of the White Boys. On the 28th of October, 1764, this gang of murderers met on the lands of Shanhally, where they were sworn by Father Sheeby to murder J. Bridge, Esq., J. Bagnall, Esq., the Rev. Dr. Hewitson; and in fine, every person who might oppose them. He also swore them to be true to the French king, and to assist him to conquer Ireland, whereby they might completely establish the Roman Catholic Religion. Thus prepared, these enthusiasts sallied out in pursuit of the blood of their fellow-creatures. They soon seized Mr. Bridge, accused him of giving information against the White Boys, and insisted that he should contradict upon oath all that he had said in his information; and on his refusing to do so, Edward Mecham, one of the gang (whom, however, we do not find brought to punishment), cleft his skull in two with a bill-hook, and he instantly expired in the presence of the remainder of the gang.

The persons whose names are mentioned above, having been apprehended on suspicion of being concerned in this cruel murder, were tried at Clonmel, and being found guilty, were executed in 1766.

WILLIAM GUEST.

EXECUTED FOR DIMINISHING THE COIN OF THE REALM.

Guest was the son of a clergyman of unblemished character, of the city of Worcester, who placed him apprentice to a genteel business. He passed the term of apprenticeship to the satisfaction of his master, and then came to London, and took a shop in Holborn, where he carried on business some years with the usual success of trade. His father's good name assisted him in procuring a clerkship in the Bank of England; and there he pursued a system of fraud which procured his execution for a crime amounting to high treason--that of diminishing the gold coin of the realm.

He took a house in Broad-street Buildings, in a room in the upper part of which he used to work. Having procured a curious machine for milling guineas, not unlike that made use of by mathematical instrument-makers, he used to take guineas from his drawer at the Bank, file them, and return them to the Bank, and take out guineas of full weight in their stead. Of the filings he made ingots, which he sold to an assayer, who, on his trial, deposed that they were of the same standard as our guineas.

About three years before his conviction he became a teller at the Bank, and Mr. Leach, who was also a teller there, observing him picking out new guineas from the old ones, and having some suspicion, watched him, to discover whether this was a frequent practice; and finding that it was, he communicated his suspicions to some others. On the 4th of July 1766, Mr. Guest paid thirty guineas to Richard Still, a servant to Mr. Corner, a dyer, at Bankside, Southwark; and Leach observing him take some gold out of a bag in the drawer, and put it among the rest on the table, went after Still, asked him if his money was right, and begged he would walk with him into the Pay-office, and let him tell it over. The man consented, and Leach found three guineas that appeared to have been newly filed, which he took away, giving Still other guineas for them. He then carried the light guineas into the hall, and showed them to Mr. Robert Bell, another teller, who carried them to Mr. Race, the principal cashier. The latter weighed them, and found that they wanted from ten pence to about fourteen pence of weight each; and he then, having examined the edges, delivered them to Leach.

It is a custom at the Bank for the cashier in waiting to take the tellers' bags every night, and lock them up; and Mr. Race, after these suspicious circumstances had appeared against Guest, ordered his bags to be examined after they were taken away. This was done by Mr. Thompson, one of the under cashiers, and Kemp and Lucas, two in-door tellers, who found the whole sum they contained to be 1,800_l._ 16_s._ 6_d._; and they found in one bag forty guineas, which appeared to have been filed on the edges, and each of which was found to be deficient in weight, from eight pence to fourteen pence.

In consequence of this disclosure, Mr. Sewallis and Mr. Humberton, servants to the Bank, went with proper officers to search Mr. Guest's house in Broad-street Buildings, and in a room up two pair of stairs, they found a mahogany nest of drawers, which, being broken open, was discovered to contain a vice, files, an instrument proper for milling the edges of guineas, two bags of gold filings, and one hundred guineas. The nest of drawers had a flap before, to let down; and a skin was found lying at the bottom, fastened to the back part of the flap, with a hole in the front part, to fasten to a button on the waistcoat, in the manner used by jewellers.

Mr. Guest was then apprehended, and being brought to trial, was found guilty, and sentenced to be executed. He subsequently zealously applied himself to the only duty which remained for him in this life to perform--that of making his peace with God, and was hanged on the 14th of October, 1767.

ELIZABETH BROWNRIGG.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

The case of this most notorious criminal is too well remembered to render any introduction to it necessary. The long scene of torture in which the inhuman wretch kept the innocent object of her remorseless cruelty ere she completed the long premeditated murder, requires no comment, engaging as it did the interest, and exciting the horror of all ranks of people, and rousing the indignation of the populace more than the case of any criminal whose offences it is our duty to record, in the whole course of our melancholy narratives.

The wretched subject of this memoir passed the early part of her life in the service of many respectable families in London; but at length, being addressed by James Brownrigg, a plumber at Greenwich, she consented to marry him; and they were accordingly united in that town. After having resided at Greenwich during about seven years, they determined to remove to London, and they, in consequence, rented a house in Flower-de-Luce (Fleur-de-Lys) Court, Fleet-street, where Brownrigg carried on his trade with so much success, that he was enabled to hire a small house at Islington as a summer retreat. Their means, however, declining as their family increased to the number of sixteen, Mrs. Brownrigg applied to the overseers of the parish of St. Dunstan to be employed in the capacity of midwife to the workhouse; and testimonials having been produced of her ability--for she had already practised midwifery to a considerable extent--she was duly appointed. Her services were found to give entire satisfaction to the parish-officers, and she now hit upon a new mode of adding to her income. She, in the year 1765, opened a house in which she advertised her readiness to receive women to lie-in privately; but finding that the expense of keeping servants would be very great, she applied to the officers of the precinct of Whitefriars and of the Foundling Hospital for girls to be apprenticed to her, to learn the duties of household servants. Two girls, named Mary Mitchell and Mary Jones, were immediately placed with her, the former from Whitefriars, and the latter from the Foundling Hospital; and it would appear, that at first the poor orphans were treated with some degree of consideration and attention, but as soon as they became familiar with their mistress and their situation, the slightest inattention was sufficient to call down upon them the most severe chastisement. The first girl who experienced this brutal treatment was Jones; and it appears that her mistress would frequently, upon the smallest possible provocation, lay her down across two chairs in the kitchen, and there whip her until she was compelled, from mere weariness, to desist. The usual termination of this scene of disgusting inhumanity was, that the mistress would throw water over her victim, or dip her head into a bucket of water, and then dismiss her to her own apartment. The room appointed for the girl to sleep in adjoined the passage leading to the street-door; and, after she had suffered this maltreatment for a considerable time, as she had received many wounds on her head, shoulders, and various parts of her body, she determined not to bear such usage any longer, if she could secure her liberty. Observing that the key was left in the street-door when the family went to bed, therefore, she opened it cautiously one morning, and escaped into the street. Thus freed from her horrid confinement, she repeatedly inquired her way to the Foundling Hospital until she found it, and was admitted after describing in what manner she had been treated, and showing the bruises she had received.

The child having been examined by a surgeon, (who found her wounds to be of a most alarming nature,) the governors of the hospital ordered Mr. Plumbtree, their solicitor, to write to James Brownrigg, threatening a prosecution, if he did not give a proper reason for the severities exercised toward the child; but no notice of this having been taken, the governors of the hospital thinking it imprudent to indict at common law, the girl was discharged, in consequence of an application to the chamberlain of London. The other girl, Mary Mitchell, continued with her mistress for the space of a year, during which she was treated with equal cruelty, and she also at length resolved to quit her service. An opportunity soon presented itself which favoured her design; but having escaped from the house, she was met in the street by the younger son of Brownrigg, who forced her to return home, where her sufferings were greatly aggravated on account of her elopement. In the interim Mrs. Brownrigg found it necessary to fill up the place occupied by her late apprentice, Mary Jones; and she applied again to the overseers of the precinct of Whitefriars, who, having learned nothing of the ill-behaviour of the woman, bound a girl named Mary Clifford to her, who was doomed to fall a victim to her brutality, and to be the cause of her eventual execution. It was not long before the new apprentice experienced equal if not greater cruelties than those inflicted upon the other unfortunate girls. She was frequently tied up naked and beaten with a hearth-broom, a horsewhip, or a cane, till she was absolutely speechless; and the poor girl having a natural infirmity, her mistress would not permit her to lie in a bed, but placed her on a mat in a coal-hole that was remarkably cold. After some time, however, a sack and a quantity of straw formed her bed, instead of the mat; but during her confinement in this wretched situation, she had nothing to subsist on but bread and water; and her covering, during the night, consisted only of her own clothes, so that she sometimes lay almost perished with cold.

On a particular occasion, when she was almost starving with hunger, she broke open a cupboard in search of food, but found it empty; and on another day, being parched with thirst, she tore down some boards in order to procure a draught of water. These acts of what were deemed daring atrocity by her inhuman mistress, immediately pointed her out as a proper mark for the most rigorous treatment; and, having been stripped to the skin, she was kept naked during the whole day, and repeatedly beaten with the but-end of a whip. In the course of this barbarous conduct Mrs. Brownrigg fastened a jack-chain round her neck so tight as almost to strangle her, and confined her by its means to the yard-door, in order to prevent her escape, in case of her mistress' strength reviving, so as to enable her to renew the severities which she was inflicting on her; and a day having passed in the exercise of these most atrocious cruelties, the miserable girl was remanded to her cellar, her hands being tied behind her, and the chain being still round her neck, to be ready for a renewal of the cruelties on the following day. Determined then upon pursuing the wretched girl still further, Mrs. Brownrigg tied her hands together with a cord, and fixing a rope to her wrists, she drew her up to a water-pipe, which ran across the kitchen ceiling, and commenced a most unmerciful castigation, but the pipe giving way in the midst of it, she caused her husband to fix a hook in the beam, and then again hoisting up her miserable victim, she horsewhipped her until she was weary, the blood flowing at nearly every stroke. Nor was Mrs. Brownrigg the only tormentor of this wretched being, for her elder son having one day ordered her to put up a half-tester bedstead, her strength was so far gone that she was unable to obey him, on which he whipped her until she sunk insensible under the lash.

At length the unhappy girl, being unable any longer to bear these unheard-of cruelties, complained to a French lady who lodged in the house, and entreated her interference to procure some remission of the frightful barbarities which had been practised upon her. The good-natured foreigner appealed to Mrs. Brownrigg, showing to her the inhumanity of her behaviour; but the only effect produced was a volley of abuse levelled at the person who interposed, and an attempt, on the part of the monster, to cut out the tongue of her apprentice with a pair of scissors, in the course of which she wounded her in two places.

The close of this prolonged tragedy, however, now approached, when the disgusting barbarity of Mrs. Brownrigg, at which the heart recoils and sickens, was to be discovered and punished. In the month of July, the step-mother of Clifford, who had been living out of town, came to London for the purpose of inquiring after her daughter; and, learning from the parish-officers that she was in the service of Mrs. Brownrigg, she immediately proceeded to her house, and requested to be allowed to see her. She was, however, refused admittance by Mr. Brownrigg, who even threatened to carry her before the lord mayor if she came there to make further disturbances; and upon this she was going away, when Mrs. Deacon, wife of Mr. Deacon, baker, at the adjoining house, called her in, and informed her that she and her family had often heard moanings and groans issue from Brownrigg's house, and that she suspected the apprentices were treated with unwarrantable severity.

The suspicions of the neighbourhood having thus been raised, every means was employed to procure the unravelment of the truth, and the proceedings of the guilty parties themselves obtained the discovery of all their wickedness.

At this juncture Mr. Brownrigg, going to Hampstead on business, bought a hog, which he sent home; and the animal being put into a covered yard, having a skylight, it was thought necessary to remove the window, in order to give to it air.

As soon as it was known that the sky-light was removed, Mr. Deacon ordered his servants to watch, in order, if possible, to discover the girls: accordingly one of the maids, looking from a window, saw one of them stooping down. She immediately called her mistress, who procured the attendance of some of the neighbours, and having all of them been witnesses to the shocking scene which presented itself, some men got upon the leads, and dropped bits of dirt, in order to induce the girl to speak to them; but she seemed wholly incapable. Mrs. Deacon then sent to Clifford's mother-in-law, who immediately called upon Mr. Grundy, one of the overseers of St. Dunstan's, and represented the case. Mr. Grundy and the rest of the overseers, with the women, went and demanded a sight of Mary Clifford; but Brownrigg, who had nicknamed her Nan, told them that he knew no such person; but, if they wanted to see Mary (meaning Mary Mitchell), they might, and she accordingly produced her. Upon this Mr. Deacon's servant declared that Mary Mitchell was not the girl they wanted, and Mr. Grundy now sent for a constable to search the house. An examination took place, but, the girl being concealed, she was not found; and the officers, notwithstanding the threats of Brownrigg, took Mitchell away. On their arriving at the workhouse, she was found to be in a most wretched state. Her body was covered with ulcerated sores; and on her taking off her leathern boddice, it stuck so fast to her wounds that she shrieked with the pain; but, on being treated with great humanity, and told that she should not be sent back to Brownrigg's, she gave an account of the cruelties which she had undergone, which she described as even more terrible than we have ventured to paint them. She also stated that she had met her fellow-apprentice on the stairs immediately before the parish officers entered the house, and added that Mrs. Brownrigg had concealed her, so that she should not be found. Upon this Mr. Grundy and the others went back to Brownrigg's, and in spite of his threats of prosecution, proceeded to take him into custody. He then promised to produce the girl if he were allowed his liberty, and this being consented to, she was brought out of a cupboard, under a beaufet in the dining-room.

Words cannot adequately describe the condition of misery in which the unfortunate girl was found to be on her being examined. Medical assistance was immediately obtained, and she was pronounced to be in considerable danger; and Brownrigg was in consequence taken into custody, and conveyed to Wood-street Compter. His wife and son, alarmed at this proceeding, absconded, carrying with them some articles of value for their support; and Brownrigg subsequently being carried before Mr. Alderman Crossby, was fully committed for trial, upon the charge of having been guilty of violent assaults. The melancholy death of the girl Clifford, however, which took place in St. Bartholomew's Hospital a few days afterwards, altered the complexion of the offence; and a Coroner's Inquest having been summoned, a verdict of wilful murder was returned against the three Brownriggs, father, mother, and son.

The two latter, in the meantime, had shifted about from place to place in London, and had taken every means in their power to disguise themselves; but at length they removed to Wandsworth, determined to await there the result of the trial of their relation. It so happened, however, that they took lodging in the house of a Mr. Dunbar, a chandler, and that person having some suspicion of his guests, watched them narrowly; and seeing an advertisement which described their persons exactly, as being participators in the murder which had been committed, he caused their apprehension.

At the ensuing session at the Old Bailey the three prisoners were brought to trial; and, after an investigation of eleven hours' duration, Mrs. Brownrigg was capitally convicted; but her husband and son were found not guilty of the offence imputed to them. Mrs. Brownrigg was immediately sentenced to undergo the extreme penalty of the law, while the participators in her guilt were detained for trial on the minor charge of misdemeanor, of which they were eventually convicted, and were sentenced to six months' imprisonment.

After sentence had been pronounced, the unfortunate woman addressed herself to the Almighty; and, being attended by the ordinary of the jail, she confessed to him the enormity of her guilt, and that the punishment which awaited her was a just one. The parting between her and her husband and son is described to have been one which exhibited the strongest affection to exist, and which appeared to call up all those better feelings of the heart in the breast of this wretched woman, which must have lain dormant during the whole course of the maltreatment to which she subjected her wretched apprentices. On her way to the scaffold she was assailed by the mob, who expressed the most unmitigated disgust for her crime; and, before the termination of her existence, she appeared to be fully sensible of the awful situation in which she stood, and prayed the ordinary to acquaint the people that she confessed her crime, and acknowledged the justice of her sentence.

After her execution, which took place at Tyburn, September the 14th, 1767, her body was put into a hackney-coach, and conveyed to Surgeons' Hall, where it was dissected, and her skeleton hung up.

JOHN WILLIAMSON.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

The case of this criminal is a fit companion for that of the wretched being whose fate we last described.

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

At length he contracted an acquaintance with a young woman deficient in point of intellect, to whom he made proposals of marriage, in the anticipation of receiving a small sum of money, which her relations had left her for her maintenance. The woman was nothing loth, and notwithstanding the opposition of her guardians, Williamson having procured a licence, the marriage was solemnized; and he in consequence received the money which he expected.

Within three weeks after the marriage, his ill-treatment of his unhappy wife commenced; and having frequently beaten her in the most barbarous manner, he at length fastened the miserable creature's hands behind her with handcuffs; and, by means of a rope passed through a staple in the ceiling of a closet where she was confined, drew them so tight above her head, that only the tips of her toes touched the ground. On one side of the closet was now and then put a small piece of bread-and-butter, so that she could just touch it with her mouth; and she was daily allowed a small portion of water. She once remained a whole month without being released from this miserable condition; but during that time she occasionally received assistance from a female lodger in the house, and a little girl, Williamson's daughter by his former wife. The girl having once released the poor sufferer, the inhuman villain beat her with great severity; but when the father was abroad, the child frequently gave the unhappy woman a stool to stand upon, by which means her pain was in some degree abated.

On the Sunday preceding the day on which she died, Williamson released his wife; and at dinner-time cut her some meat, of which, however, she ate only a very small quantity. Her hands being greatly swelled through the coldness of the weather and the pain occasioned by the handcuffs, she begged to be permitted to go near the fire; and the daughter joining in her request, Williamson complied; but when she had sat a few minutes, her husband, observing her throwing the vermin that swarmed upon her clothes into the fire, ordered her to "return to her kennel." She immediately went back to the closet, the door of which was locked till the next day, and she was then found to be in a delirious state, in which she continued till the time of her death, which happened about two o'clock on the Tuesday morning.

The coroner's jury being summoned to sit on the body, Mr. Barton, a surgeon, of Redcross-street, who had opened it, declared that he was of opinion that the deceased had perished through the want of the common necessaries of life; and other evidence being adduced to criminate Williamson, he was committed to Newgate.

At the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey he was brought to trial before Lord Chief Baron Parker; and the principal witnesses against him were his daughter, Mrs. Cole, and Mr. Barton, the surgeon who opened the body of the deceased.

The prisoner's defence was exceedingly frivolous. He said his wife had provoked him by treading upon a kitten, and killing it, and then turning up the whites of her eyes. He had the effrontery also to declare to the Court that he had not abridged his wife of any of the necessaries of life; and after sentence of death was pronounced, he reflected upon his daughter as being the cause of his destruction.

Being put into the cells, he sent for a clergyman, and acknowledged that he had treated his wife in the cruel manner represented upon the trial; adding, however, that he had no design of depriving her of life: and he afterwards behaved in a decent and penitent manner.

He was conveyed to the place of execution in a cart, attended by two clergymen and a methodist preacher. The gallows was placed on the rising ground opposite Chiswell-street, in Moorfields; and after he had sung a psalm, and prayed some time with an appearance of great devotion, he was turned off, January 19th, 1767, amidst an amazing concourse of people.

His body was conveyed to Surgeons' Hali for dissection, and his children were placed in Cripplegate workhouse.

SARAH METYARD AND SARAH MORGAN METYARD.

EXECUTED FOR THE MURDERS OF PARISH APPRENTICES.

A single year had not elapsed since the public example made of Elizabeth Brownrigg, to which the public indignation was yet alive, when these two, if possible, more cruel women, were found guilty of torturing their apprentices to death.

Sarah Metyard was a milliner, and her daughter her assistant, in Bruton-street, Hanover-square, London.

In the year 1758 the mother had five apprentice girls bound to her from different parish workhouses, among whom were Anne Naylor and her sister.

Anne Naylor, being of a sickly constitution, was not able to do so much work as the other apprentices, and she therefore became the more immediate object of the fury of her mistress. The ill-treatment which she experienced at length induced the unhappy girl to abscond; but being pursued, she was brought back and confined in an upper apartment, where her food consisted of a small piece of bread and a draught of water only each day. Seizing an opportunity, she again attempted to escape; but her young mistress was in time to see her run out, and, following her and seizing her by the neck, she brought her back, and with great violence thrust her into an upper room. The old woman then interfered, and catching the girl, she threw her on the bed, while her daughter beat her unmercifully with a hearth-brush. This done, they put her into a back room, and fixing a cord round her waist, they tied her hands behind her, and fastened her to the handle of the door so as to prevent her sitting or lying down; and in order that the example of her punishment might intimidate her fellow-apprentices, they were ordered to work in the adjoining apartment, strict injunctions, however, being given to them to afford the prisoner no relief whatever.

In this condition, without the smallest nourishment of any kind, the wretched girl remained for three days and two nights, when having been let loose, in order that she might go to bed, she crept up to the garret in a state of the greatest exhaustion. On the fourth day she faltered in her speech, but was nevertheless again conveyed to what was worse than her condemned cell, and there, in the course of a very short time, she expired, her body being suspended by the cords which had been again placed round her person. The other girls, seeing that her whole weight was thus supported, cried out that she did not move; and the younger Metyard coming up, said, "If she does not move soon, I'll make her," and immediately beat her on the head with the heel of a shoe; but finding that in truth she was senseless, she sent for her mother to come and assist her. The body was then released from its bonds, and efforts were made to restore animation, but without effect; and Mrs. Metyard being convinced that the child was dead, removed her remains into the garret. On the return of the other children, who had been sent out of the way, they were informed that the girl had been in a fit, but was perfectly recovered; and it was added that she was now locked in a garret, in order that she should not run away: and to strengthen the effect of this story, a plate of meat was sent up to the room where the body lay in the middle of the day for her dinner.

On the fourth day, a design was formed to follow up the tale which had been related; and the body of the deceased having been locked in a box, the garret-door and the street-door were left open, and one of the apprentices was desired to call Nanny down to dinner, and to tell her that if she would promise to behave well in future, she would be no longer confined. Upon the return of the child, she said Nanny was not above stairs; and after a great parade in searching every part of the house, the Metyards reflected upon her as being of an untractable disposition, and pretended that she had run away.

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

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

When the apprentices were gone to bed, the old woman put the hand into the fire, saying, "The fire tells no tales;" but fearing that the consumption of the whole body would create an unpleasant smell, they determined to dispose of its parts by throwing them into the common sewer in Chick-lane. Being unable to effect this, however, they left them among the mud and water that was collected before the grate of the sewer; and some pieces of the body being discovered about twelve o'clock by the watchman, he mentioned the circumstance to the constable of the night. The constable applied to one of the overseers of the parish, by whose direction the parts of the body were collected and taken to the watch-house. On the following day the matter was communicated to Mr. Umfreville, the coroner, who examined the pieces found by the watchman; but, supposing them to be parts of a corpse taken from a churchyard for the use of some surgeon, he declined summoning a jury.

Four years elapsed before the discovery of these horrid murders; but at length the dissensions which frequently occurred between their wretched perpetrators procured their apprehension and conviction. It appears that the mother was in the habit of treating her daughter with a brutality almost equal to that which she had exhibited to her apprentices, and about two years after the murders a gentleman of the name of Rooker took lodgings in the house of Metyard, where he lived about three months, during which time he had frequent opportunities of observing the severity which she suffered.

He afterwards hired a house in Hill-street, and, influenced by compassion for her sufferings, and being desirous of relieving her from the tyranny of her mother, he invited the girl to live in his family in the capacity of a servant; which offer she cheerfully embraced, though her mother had many times violently opposed her desire of going to service. The girl had no sooner removed to Mr. Rooker's house than the old woman became perfectly outrageous; and it was almost her daily practice to create disturbances in Mr. Rooker's neighbourhood, by venting the most bitter execrations against the girl, and branding her with the most opprobrious epithets. Mr. Rooker subsequently removed to Ealing, to reside on a little estate bequeathed him by a relation; and having by this time seduced the girl, she accompanied him, and lived with him professedly in the character of his mistress.

The old woman's visits were not less frequent at Ealing than they had been at Mr. Rooker's house in London; nor was her behaviour less outrageous.

On the 9th of June 1768, being admitted to the house, she beat her daughter in a terrible manner; and during the contention many expressions were uttered by both parties that gave great uneasiness to Mr. Rooker. The mother called Mr. Rooker "the old perfumed tea-dog;" and the girl retorted by saying, "Remember, mother, you are the perfumer; you are the Chick-lane ghost."

The mother having retired, Mr. Rooker urged the girl to explain what was meant to be insinuated by the indirect accusations introduced by both parties in the course of the dispute; and, bursting into tears, she confessed the particulars of the murders, begging that a secret so materially affecting her mother might never be divulged.

Mr. Rooker imagined that the daughter could not be rendered amenable to the law, as she performed her share in the murders by the direction of her mother, and he wrote to the overseers of the parish of Tottenham, acquainting them with what he had learned. The elder Metyard was in consequence taken into custody; and the evidence against her being conclusive, she was fully committed for trial. Some circumstances, however, having come out which served to criminate her daughter, she also was secured, and with her mother was sent to Newgate to abide her trial.

When arraigned upon the indictment preferred against them at the ensuing Old Bailey Sessions, they bitterly reproached one another with the part each had taken in the affair; and if any evidence of their guilt had been wanting, their own declarations at this time would have been sufficient to secure their conviction. The jury immediately found them guilty, and they were sentenced to undergo the severest penalty of the law. The younger prisoner pleaded that she was pregnant, on being called up to receive judgment; but a jury of matrons being assembled, they declared her plea false, and she was sentenced immediately.

On the day fixed for their execution, the elder prisoner was found to be in a state of utter insensibility, and in that condition she was carried to the scaffold, and, all efforts to restore her having failed, was turned off. Her daughter prayed for a few minutes with the ordinary who attended her, but was in almost as melancholy a condition as her mother.

They were executed at Tyburn on the 19th July 1768, and their bodies were afterwards dissected at Surgeons' Hall.

FREDERIC, LORD BALTIMORE; ELIZABETH GRIFFENBURG; AND ANNE HARVEY.

TRIED FOR THE COMMISSION OF A RAPE, THE FEMALES AS ACCESSORIES BEFORE THE FACT.

Although the trial of these persons was not followed by a conviction, the extraordinary nature of the transactions described by the prosecutrix in the case renders it our duty to state the facts alleged as they appeared at the trial.

The title which was inherited by Lord Baltimore, who was a peer of Ireland, was originally granted by James I. to Mr. Calvert, from whom he was lineally descended, together with a large tract of land in America, now called Maryland. His lordship is related to have exhibited a taste for knowledge in early life, and was sent from Epsom, where he was born, to Eton, where he soon gained a considerable acquaintance with the classics. His father dying before he was of age, left him an ample fortune; and he is said to have shown at this time the existence of that passion which subsequently brought him into the difficulty from which he was compelled to extricate himself before a jury of his country.

In obedience to the custom of the times, the young lord proceeded to perform the grand tour; and it is reported that having sailed from Naples to Constantinople, he there imbibed so great an admiration for the manners of the Turks, that on his return to England in 1766, he caused a portion of his family mansion to be taken down, and to be rebuilt in the form of a harem. His lordship was not long in completing his new establishment; and, like the persons whose customs he imitated, he gave to its inmates certain rules, by which he directed that their conduct and demeanour should be regulated.

The disgusting passions of his lordship, however, knew no bounds; and agents were employed in London, whose duty it was to select new objects for the gratification of his lustful desires. Amongst others who were thus engaged in this degrading office were the women Griffenburg, who was a native of Germany, and the wife of a Dr. Griffenburg, and Harvey, whose names appear at the head of this article. They were both women of low education, and their duty was to discover and point out persons who might be deemed worthy of the attentions of their employer, and in case of necessity to aid him in securing the end which he had in view. In the course of their brutal and inhuman searches in this occupation, they unfortunately discovered a young woman of considerable personal attractions, and of some respectability, named Woodcock, who kept a milliner's shop on Tower-hill; and Mrs. Harvey acquainting his lordship with her residence, in November 1767, he directly proceeded to the spot for the purpose of pursuing his diabolical designs. Calling at Miss Woodcock's shop, he purchased some articles of trifling value, with a view of making an acquaintance with her; and then having succeeded in opening a conversation with her, he invited her to accompany him to the theatre. Miss Woodcock declined the offer, saying that her religious opinions taught her to believe that theatrical entertainments were incompatible with the due exercise of the worship of the Almighty; and his lordship finding all his efforts to attain his object vain, retired, but only to put his agent, Mrs Harvey, to work.

Introducing herself as a customer, this infamous woman called repeatedly at the shop of her intended victim, and purchased ruffles and other articles of millinery. On the 14th of December, however, she proceeded to take active measures in her plot; and then ordering a pair of lace ruffles to be made by the following day, she directed Miss Woodcock to take them herself to her residence in the Curtain-road, Shoreditch, declaring that they were for a lady of rank and fortune, who was desirous of encouraging her in her business, and who, if the order was punctually obeyed, would, without doubt, become an excellent customer.

The ruffles were finished and carried home at the appointed time; and then Miss Woodcock being invited in, was received politely by Mrs. Harvey, who pressed her to stay to tea. She declined the invitation, on the ground that it would be dark before she could reach home if she remained; but at this moment a man named Isaacs came in, who said that he was going to the theatre, and Mrs. Harvey expressing a desire at once to convey the goods which had been brought to her to the lady for whom they were ordered, it was eventually agreed, after some objections on the part of Miss Woodcock as to her dress, that as Isaacs must hire a coach, they should all go together.

At this time Lord Baltimore's carriage was waiting in the neighbourhood, and the Jew going out, called it up, and all three got into it, Miss Woodcock making no remark as to whether it was a private or a hired conveyance. The coachman drove at a great pace; and after they had traversed many streets, the vehicle was driven into the court-yard of a house which appeared to be that of a person of consideration. Mrs. Harvey and Miss Woodcock then alighted, and being ushered into the house, they were conducted through several apartments until they reached one in which an elderly gentleman, afterwards known as Dr. Griffenburg, was seen seated; and he immediately retired, saying that he would acquaint the lady of the house with their arrival. Lord Baltimore soon afterwards entered; and Miss Woodcock was alarmed to find that he was the person who had visited her shop. He bid her rest quiet, however, saying that he was only the steward of the lady whom she was to see, and then quitted the room, but soon afterwards returned with Mrs. Griffenburg, who conversed with her as if she had expected her coming and was the lady of the house. Orders were afterwards given for tea; and on the equipage being removed from the table, Lord Baltimore presented some trinkets to Miss Woodcock, which he said he had purchased for her. As the evening advanced she became anxious to return, and expressed her fears that her relatives would be surprised at her long absence; but his lordship, in order to divert her from this purpose, took her to view the apartments in the house, and at length, on her becoming still more importunate, insisted that she should stay for supper. Private orders having been given for the preparation of this meal, and Mrs. Griffenburg having retired, his lordship began taking liberties of an indecent character with the young lady; but on her exclaiming against this treatment, Mrs. Harvey and Dr. Griffenburg appeared, as if to aid in opposing her escape in the event of her attempting to obtain her liberty. Supper was soon afterwards served; but it does not appear that any idea was entertained by Miss Woodcock of an intention to detain her forcibly until after this meal, when Lord Baltimore told her that there were no coaches to be had then, and that she must remain for the night.

Mrs. Griffenburg and Mrs. Harvey now endeavoured to prevail on the young lady to go to bed; but she declared that she would never sleep in that house; and although they conducted her to a room in which they went to rest, she continued walking about till the morning, and lamenting her unhappy fate. Looking out of the window at about eight o'clock, she observed a young woman passing, to whom she threw out her handkerchief, which was then heavy with tears, intending to attract her attention and send to her father for assistance; but the two women, jumping out of bed, prevented the possibility of her holding any communication with her, and upbraided her for what they called the rejection of her good fortune, declaring their wishes that they were in her happy situation.

The women now quitting the room, Lord Baltimore and Dr. Griffenburg came in soon afterwards; when the former said that he was astonished at her outrageous behaviour, as he had promised that she should go home at twelve o'clock: but she replied that they had no right to detain her, and that she would go home directly, as her sister, and particularly her father, would be inexpressibly anxious on occasion of her absence.

To this no answer was made; but Lord Baltimore conducted her down stairs, and ordered breakfast. She refused, however, to eat, and having wept incessantly till twelve o'clock, at that hour she once more demanded her liberty. His lordship then said that he loved her to excess; that he could not part with her; but that he did not intend any injury to her, and would write to her father: and on this he wrote a letter, of which the following is a copy, and in it sent a bank-note of two hundred pounds:--

"Your daughter Sally sends you the enclosed, and desires you will not be uneasy on her account, because everything will turn out well with a little patience and prudence. She is at a friend's house safe and well, in all honesty and honour; nothing else is meant, you may depend on it; and, sir, as your presence and consent are necessary, we beg of you to come in a private manner to Mr. Richard Smith's in Broad-street Buildings."

Having addressed this to her father, he showed it to her, and desired that she would write a few words at the bottom, signifying her compliance with its terms; and terrified by her condition, she wrote, "Dear Father--This is true, and should be glad you would come this afternoon. Your dutiful daughter."--From the statement of the young lady, it appears that after this she conjured his lordship to give her her liberty, pointing out to him, in the most striking manner, the degradation to which she was subjected; but all her arguments were in vain, and she was again compelled to pass the night, as before, in the room with Mrs. Griffenburg and Mrs. Harvey. In the morning, by permission of his lordship, she wrote a letter to her father, desiring him to come to her immediate assistance, but saying that she had been treated with "as much honour as she could expect;" but she still declined holding any conversation with his lordship, and used all her efforts to make her situation known to the passers-by. In this, however, she was checked by his lordship and the women, who threatened to throw her out of window in the event of her making any disturbance. Towards the middle of the day she was told that her father had called at Mr. Smith's, but had refused to wait until she was sent for; but at midnight Mr. Broughton, his lordship's steward, brought intelligence that Isaacs, the Jew, having offered a letter to Miss Woodcock's father, was stopped till he should give an account where the young lady was secreted. Lord Baltimore was, or affected to be, in a violent passion, and vowed vengeance against the father; but in the interim the Jew entered, and delivered a letter which he pretended to have received from Miss Woodcock's sister, and she took it to read: but she had wept so much that her eyes were sore; and of all she read, she could only recollect this passage:--"Only please to appoint a place where and when we may meet with you."

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

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

The sufferings she had undergone having by this time made her extremely ill, Lord Baltimore mixed a draught for her, which he insisted on her drinking; and in the afternoon he compelled her to sit by his side to hear him converse upon subjects of religion, in the course of which, however, he ridiculed everything sacred, and denied the existence of a soul.

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

On the Monday morning she was told that she should see her father; and having been supplied with a change of linen by Mrs. Griffenburg, she was about mid-day hurried into a coach with Lord Baltimore, Dr. Griffenburg, and the two women, and with them conveyed to Epsom, where, as we have already said, his lordship had a country-seat. Here she was told that resistance was useless, and that whatever objection she might make to submit to his lordship's desires, force would be used if her consent was not given. At supper she partook of some refreshment; and immediately afterwards she was conducted to a bedchamber, accompanied by the two women, who began to undress her. From weakness she was unable to make much resistance; and from the same cause she was prevented from opposing Lord Baltimore, who, it turned out, was in a bed which was in the apartment, and who, in spite of her cries and entreaties, twice effected his horrid purpose. In the morning Mrs. Harvey came to her, and she told her what had passed; but the only answer which was given, was a desire that she would make no more fuss, for that she had made noise enough already. It would appear that after this the proceedings of his lordship were, to a certain extent, acquiesced in by Miss Woodcock; but it was not until several days had elapsed that she ascertained the name of the person who had dishonoured her. On the afternoon on which she made this discovery, the whole party returned to London, and Miss Woodcock was there introduced to Madame Saunier, the governess of his lordship's illegitimate children. On the next day his lordship gave her some money; and when night advanced, directed that she should repair to his bed. Having been permitted on the night before to sleep by herself, she requested that the same favour might be again granted to her; but his lordship's commands being positive that she should share his couch, she consented on certain terms, which were fulfilled, while, according to her statement, a crime of a still more atrocious nature was committed.

It may now be inquired whether no steps were taken by Miss Woodcock's friends in order to procure her discovery, and her return to the roof of her parents; and it appears that some circumstances having been learned which induced them to guess the real place of her concealment, Davis, her lover, proceeded to Southampton-row, Bloomsbury, where his lordship's house was situated, and while watching there saw her at the window. He immediately communicated the discovery which he had made to her father, and the advice of Mr. Watts, an attorney, having been taken, a writ of habeas corpus was obtained. These proceedings, however, were heard of by his lordship, and he conversed with Miss Woodcock on the subject, and, as she alleged, extorted from her a promise to declare that she had remained at his house voluntarily and of her own free-will, promising to recompense her by settling upon her an annuity for life. She in consequence wrote a letter to her father to that effect, which was delivered by one of his lordship's servants; and on Mr. Watts' proceeding to the house to serve the writ of habeas corpus, she made a declaration to him having the same tendency. Lord Baltimore then said that it was necessary that she should go before Lord Mansfield and make a similar statement, and she was accordingly conveyed to his lordship's house in Bloomsbury-square. They were there shown into different apartments; and Miss Woodcock's friends having heard of the proceeding, were also in attendance in an ante-chamber, where they awaited the result of the conference.

The young lady, on being examined by Lord Mansfield, expressed her willingness to remain with Lord Baltimore, but desired to see her friends first. She was then conducted to the room where her father was awaiting the conclusion of her examination; and there the first question which she asked was, "Who is Lord Mansfield?" Having been satisfied upon this head, and also that he had the power to set her at liberty, she desired to see him again, and then said that she wished to go home with her father, and that she would no longer remain with Lord Baltimore.

On Miss Woodcock's discharge, Mr. Cay, a baker in Whitecross-street (to whom her father had delivered the two hundred pound bank note which had been enclosed in the letter by Lord Baltimore), conveyed the young lady to Sir John Fielding, before whom she swore to the actual commission of the rape by his lordship.

The two women, the coadjutors of his lordship, had been already taken into custody, on the charge of decoying away the girl; and a warrant was now issued for the apprehension of Lord Baltimore. His lordship, however, secreted himself for the present, but surrendered himself to the Court of King's Bench on the last day of Hilary Term, 1768; when the two women being brought thither by habeas corpus, they were all admitted to bail, in order for trial at Kingston, in Surrey, because the crime was alleged to have been committed at his lordship's seat at Epsom.

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

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

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

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

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

"March 25, 1768."

"BALTIMORE."

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

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

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

This singular affair was tried at Kingston, in Surrey, on the 26th of March, 1768.

It would be useless to offer any observations upon this extraordinary case. From the verdict returned by the jury, there ought to exist no doubt of the innocence of the persons charged of the offence imputed to them; but although Lord Baltimore and his companions were acquitted of the charge of rape, there can be little doubt that the ruin of the unfortunate girl Woodcock--even if what was admitted by his lordship were only true--was the effect of a vile conspiracy among the prisoners to sacrifice her to the libertine passions of his lordship.

JOHN WILKES, ESQ.

CONVICTED OF SEDITION AND BLASPHEMY.

The year 1768 will ever be memorable in the annals of English history on account of the murders and mischief committed by a deluded mob, stimulated by the writings and opposition to the government of John Wilkes, Esq. an alderman of London, and member of parliament for Aylesbury.

The most scandalous and offensive of his writings were in a periodical publication called the "North Briton," No. 45; and a pamphlet entitled "An Essay on Woman[12]." The "North Briton" was of a political nature; the other a piece of obscenity: the one calculated to set the people against the government; the other to corrupt their morals.

Amongst the ministers who found themselves more personally attacked in the "North Briton" was Samuel Martin, Esq. member for Camelford. This gentleman found his character, as secretary to the Treasury, so vilified, that he called the writer to the field. He had before been engaged in a duel with Lord Talbot, and had then escaped unhurt, but Mr. Martin shot him; and the wound proved so dangerous that he lay uncertain of recovering during several days, and was confined to his house for some weeks.

His sufferings, however, did not end here, for the attorney-general filed informations against him as author of "The North Briton," No. 45[13], and the pamphlet entitled "An Essay on Woman." On these charges he was apprehended; and his papers having been seized and inspected, he was committed prisoner to the Tower, but was soon admitted to bail. Before his trial came on, Mr. Wilkes fled to France, under the pretext of restoring his health, which had suffered from his wound, and the harassing measures taken against him by the secretaries of state, Lord Egremont and Lord Halifax; and no sooner was he out of the kingdom, than the ministers proceeded to outlawry, dismissed him from his command as colonel of the Buckinghamshire militia, and expelled him from his seat in parliament.

While in Paris, he was challenged to fight by a Captain Forbes, on account of the reflections which he had cast upon the birthplace of the gallant captain, Scotland; but he declined the invitation, alleging that he had still an affair to settle with Lord Egremont before he could venture to take any other duel upon his hands. The death of that noble lord, however, left him free to fight; but on his writing to accept the challenge, his antagonist was not to be found. Mr. Wilkes subsequently returned to London, and gave notice that he should appear to answer the charges preferred against him on a certain day; and then having appeared in his place, as an alderman, in Guildhall, on his return, the mob took the horses from his carriage and dragged it to his house, crying "Wilkes and liberty!" On the 21st of February 1764, the trial of Mr. Wilkes, upon the accusations alleged against him, came on before Lord Mansfield, and he was found guilty on both charges, subject to arguments upon certain points as to the validity of his apprehension, the seizure of his papers, and the judgment of outlawry which had been obtained against him. The discussions preliminary to these arguments occupied the courts at various times during a space of two years; and in the mean time, the popularity of Mr. Wilkes and the outrages of the mob increased daily.

At length, on the 27th of April 1768, Mr. Wilkes having been served with a writ of Capias utlagatum, was brought to the floor of the Court of King's Bench in the custody of the proper officer, in order that the question of his being admitted to bail might be considered. A long argument took place, but it terminated in favour of the crown, and Mr. Wilkes was conveyed to the King's Bench prison. On his way thither the mob seized the coach in which he was carried, and taking the horses from it, dragged him to a public-house in Spitalfields, where they permitted him to alight; but at about eleven o'clock at night he effected his escape from his over-zealous friends, and proceeding to the prison, immediately surrendered himself into lawful custody. On the following day he was visited by many of his friends; and a vast mob having collected outside the prison, it was feared that some outrage would be committed. All remained quiet, however, until night, when the rails by which the prison wall was surrounded were pulled up and burned as a bonfire, and the inhabitants of Southwark were compelled to illuminate their houses; but upon the arrival of a captain's guard of soldiers, the crowd dispersed without doing any further mischief.

On the 28th of April the case of outlawry was determined; and Mr. Serjeant Glynn having appeared on the part of Mr. Wilkes, and the Attorney-General for the crown, a learned and lengthy argument was heard, the result of which was a unanimous expression on the part of the court that the outlawry must be reversed. The general warrant on which the accused had been apprehended was next considered and declared illegal; but the counsel for the crown then immediately moved that judgment might be passed upon Mr. Wilkes upon the several convictions which had taken place. This was answered by a motion on his part in arrest of judgment, and the following Thursday was fixed upon for hearing the point argued.

In the mean time a mob had remained assembled round the prison whom no efforts of the civil force could disperse; but at length the justices appeared, followed by a troop of soldiers, determined at once to put an end to the alarming nuisance which had so long existed. All attempts to procure the separation of the crowd by fair means having failed, the Riot Act was read; and this also having no effect, the soldiers were ordered to fire. The command was instantly obeyed, and many persons were killed and dangerously wounded, some of whom were passing at a distance from the scene of confusion.

At length the day arrived on which the last effort was to be made to get rid of the charges against Mr. Wilkes; but the arguments for an arrest of judgment, though carried on with great ingenuity, would not hold, and he was found to have been legally convicted of writing the libels. For that in the "North Briton" he was fined five hundred pounds, and sentenced to two years' imprisonment in the King's Bench prison; and for the "Essay on Woman" five hundred pounds more, a further imprisonment of twelve months, and to find security for his good behaviour for seven years.

Previously to his imprisonment Mr. Wilkes had been elected member of parliament for Middlesex, when the address which he published to his constituents contained the following passages:--"In the whole progress of ministerial vengeance against me for several years, I have shown, to the conviction of all mankind, that my enemies have trampled on the laws, and have been actuated by the spirit of tyranny and arbitrary power.

"The general warrant under which I was first apprehended has been adjudged illegal. The seizure of my papers was condemned judicially

The outlawry, so long the topic of violent abuse, is at last declared to have been contrary to law; and on the ground first taken by my friend, Mr. Serjeant Glynn, is formally reversed."

The mob after the election proceeded to the commission of the most violent outrages. They broke the windows of Lord Bute, the prime minister, and of the Mansion House, including even those of the lady mayoress's bedchamber, and forced the inhabitants of the metropolis to illuminate their houses, crying out "Wilkes and liberty!" and all who refused to echo it back were knocked down.

A stone was thrown by this daring mob at the Polish Count Rawotski, which he dexterously caught in his hand, the windows of his carriage in which he sat being fortunately down; and his lordship looking out and smiling, he received no other violence.

The outrages of the populace were too many to be enumerated; several innocent people were killed, and vast numbers wounded. They broke windows without number, destroyed furniture, and even insulted royalty itself.

These disgraceful tumults were not confined to the metropolis; and the lenity, or, as some did not hesitate to assert, the timidity of the government, spread disaffection into all classes of mechanics, who, thinking the time at hand when they might exact what wages they pleased, perhaps even beyond their masters' profits, struck work.

The sailors, following the example of the landsmen, went in a body of many thousands, with drums beating and colours flying, to St. James's Palace, and presented a petition to the king, praying a "Relief of Grievances." Two days afterwards they assembled in much greater numbers, and proceeded as far as Palace Yard, in order to petition Parliament for an increase of wages; when they were addressed by two gentlemen standing on the top of a hackney-coach, who told them that their petition could not be immediately attended to, but that it would be considered and answered in due time; whereupon the tars gave three cheers, and for a while dispersed. A short time afterwards, however, they re-assembled at Limehouse, and boarding several outward-bound vessels, seized their crews, pretending that they would not suffer any ships to sail until their wages were increased. The watermen, the Spitalfields weavers, the sawyers, the hatters, and the labouring classes in the country, all combined in the attempt to procure their wages to be raised; but while in London the confusion was nearly universal, in the country its effects were confined to a few districts, where some interested persons managed to excite the peaceably-disposed people to acts of outrage.

They soon discovered the error into which they had fallen, however; and a few of them having suffered execution, and others some severe imprisonments, they returned to their duty.

The folly of popular commotion was never better exemplified than in the case of Wilkes, whose patriotism was accidental and mercenary; for his letters to his daughter clearly show the contempt with which he regarded the enthusiasm in his favour, and the object he had in view in exciting hatred against the government. Many of the deluded people who shouted "Wilkes and liberty!" were severely injured in the riots; and others were subsequently punished by the outraged laws of the country. In a short time the commotion subsided, and the author of them sunk into comparative obscurity, in which he continued until his death in 1797, at the age of seventy years.

MUNGO CAMPBELL.

CONVICTED OF THE MURDER OF THE EARL OF EGLINTON.

This melancholy case arose out of the existing system of game-laws.

The lamented Mr. Campbell was descended from the noble family of Argyle, and was born at Ayr in Scotland. His father was an eminent merchant--had been mayor of the town, and a justice of the peace; but having no less than twenty-four children, and meeting with many losses in his commercial transactions, it was impossible for him to make any adequate provision for his family; so that on his death, the relations took care of the children, and educated them in the liberal manner which is customary in Scotland. The unhappy subject of this narrative was protected by an uncle, who gave him a learned education; but this generous friend dying when the youth was about eighteen years of age, left him sixty pounds a year, and earnestly recommended him to the care of his other relations.

The young man was a finished scholar, but seemed averse to make choice of any of the learned professions. His attachment appeared to be to the military life, in which many of his ancestors had distinguished themselves. He soon followed the bent of his inclinations, and entered as a cadet in the royal regiment of Scots Greys, then commanded by his relation, General Campbell, and served during two campaigns, at his own expense. Being disappointed in obtaining promotion, however, he returned to Scotland in the year 1745, and Lord Loudon, to whom he was distantly related, having the command of the loyal Highlanders, who exhibited so much bravery in their opposition to the rebellion, Mr. Campbell joined that regiment, and his exertions were equally creditable to his loyalty and his courage.

After the battle of Culloden he was appointed, through the instrumentality of Lord Loudon, to fill the situation of an officer of excise, in Ayrshire; and notwithstanding the unpleasant nature of his employment, he succeeded, by his courtesy, in obtaining the good-will of all his neighbours, all of whom, with the exception of the Earl of Eglinton, gave him permission to kill game on their estates. It was his misfortune to live immediately adjoining the property of his lordship; and it would appear that the noble earl having once detected him in killing a hare, warned him not to commit a similar offence again. Mr. Campbell apologised for the trespass of which he had been guilty, and excused himself by stating that he was in search of smugglers, and that having suddenly started the hare, he was surprised, and without thinking, he shot it. The ill-will which was raised in his lordship's mind by this circumstance, was in nowise removed by some proceedings which Mr. Campbell was compelled to take against Bartleymore, one of his servants, for smuggling; and it appears that his lordship's death was eventually attributable to the steps which he took at the instigation of this very person.

About ten in the morning of the 24th of October 1769, Campbell took his gun, and went out with another officer, with a view to detect smugglers. Mr. Campbell took with him a licence for shooting, which had been given him by Dr. Hunter, though they had no particular design of killing any game, but intended to shoot a woodcock if they should see one.

They crossed a small part of Lord Eglinton's estate, in order to reach the sea-shore, where they intended to walk; but when they arrived at this spot it was near noon, and Lord Eglinton came up in his coach, attended by Mr. Wilson, a carpenter, who was working for him, and followed by four servants on horseback. On approaching the coast his lordship met Bartleymore, who told him that there were some poachers at a distance. Mr. Wilson would have endeavoured to draw off his lordship's notice from such a business; but Bartleymore saying that Campbell was among the poachers, Lord Eglinton quitted his coach, and mounting a led horse, rode to the spot, where he saw Campbell and the other officer, whose name was Brown. His lordship said, "Mr. Campbell, I did not expect to have found you so soon again on my grounds, after your promise when you shot the hare. I must desire that you will give me your gun." Mr. Campbell refused to deliver up his property, because he said that he was not employing it in an unlawful manner, on which Lord Eglinton rode towards him, apparently with the intention of taking it from him. Mr. Campbell on this raised his gun, and retreating, presented it at his lordship's body; but the latter still followed him, and smiling, asked him if he meant to shoot him. He said that he would if he did not keep off, and then Lord Eglinton desired that his gun should be brought to him from the carriage. In the interim, his lordship dismounted, and going close to Mr. Campbell, again required that he should deliver up the weapon which he carried, but the latter declared that he had a right to carry it, and that he would deliver it to no man, and repeated that his lordship must therefore keep off, unless he wished to be shot. Bartleymore now interfered; and Mr. Campbell stumbling against a stone, fell, and Lord Eglinton then advanced as if to seize him. In a moment, however, Mr. Campbell raised himself on his elbow, and lodged the contents of his piece in the noble earl's left breast. His lordship directly cried out that he was killed, and Mr. Campbell was seized; but his lordship desired that no violence should be used towards him.

Lord Eglinton's seat was about three miles from the place where this fatal event happened; and his servants put him into the carriage to convey him home. In the mean time Campbell's hands were tied behind him; and he was conducted to the town of Saltcoats, the place of his former station as an exciseman.

His lordship, after languishing for ten hours, died; and Mr. Campbell was then committed to the jail of Ayr to await his trial.

Upon his being arraigned upon the indictment preferred against him, various arguments were urged in his favour. It was said--"That the gun went off by accident, and therefore it could be no more than casual homicide.

"Secondly--That, supposing it had been fired with an intention to kill, yet the act was altogether justifiable, because of the violent provocation he had received; and he was doing no more than defending his life and property.

"Thirdly--It could not be murder, because it could not be supposed that Mr. Campbell had any malice against his lordship, and the action itself was too sudden to admit of deliberation."

The counsel for the prosecution urged in answer, in the first place,

"That it was certain malice was implied, in consequence of Campbell's presenting the gun to his lordship, and telling him that, unless he kept off, he would shoot him.

"Secondly--That there was no provocation given by the earl besides words, and words could not be construed a provocation in law.

"Thirdly--The earl had a right to seize his gun, in virtue of several acts of parliament, which were the established laws of the land, to which every subject is obliged to be obedient."

After repeated debates between the lawyers of Scotland, a day was at length appointed for the trial, which commenced on the 27th of February 1770, before the High Court of Justiciary; and, the jury having found Mr. Campbell guilty, he was sentenced to die.

The Lord Justice Clerk, before he pronounced the solemn sentence, addressed himself to the convict, advising him to make the most devout preparation for death, as all hopes of pardon would be precluded, from the nature of his offence.

The prisoner conducted himself throughout the whole proceedings with the utmost calmness, and took leave of his friends in the evening with great apparent cheerfulness; and, retiring to his apartment, he begged the favour of a visit from them on the following day. In the morning of the 28th of February 1770, however, he was found dead, hanging to the end of a form which he had set upright, and a silk handkerchief fastened round his neck.

The following lines were found upon the floor, close to the body:--

"Farewell, vain world! I've had enough of thee, And now am careless what thou say'st of me: Thy smiles I court not, nor thy frowns I fear: My cares are past; my heart lies easy here. What faults they find in me take care, to shun; And look at home--enough is to be done."

JAMES ATTAWAY AND RICHARD BAILEY.

EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.

The crime for which these men so justly suffered was committed in a manner most artful and daring.

About nine o'clock in the evening they went to the house of Thomas Le Merr, Esq. in Bedford-row, London, a public and genteel street. They had received information that Mr. Le Merr was in the country, and on their knocking at the door, it was opened by a footman, who was alone in the house, to whom Bailey delivered a letter, saying it was for his master. Before the servant could answer, they rushed in, shut the street door, and stabbed him in the belly with a dagger. They then drew cords from their pockets, tied the bleeding man's hands behind his back, and dragged him down stairs into the kitchen, and there bringing the rope about his neck, and across his face, in such a manner that it went through his mouth, which it kept open, and making it fast behind, thus bound, they forced him into a cellar, and bolted him in. In a few minutes one of the villains returned, asking if he was fast; and being answered, as well as the poor man could speak, that he was secure enough, they broke open the pantry, where the plate-chest was kept, forced the lock, and deliberately packed up its contents. In the mean time, however, the wounded man gnawed the rope in his mouth, and soon liberated himself. He then forced open the door which confined him, and got into the area, over which was a skylight, and, apprehensive that he was bleeding to death, he made an effort, by climbing up a pipe, to get through it, and give an alarm. In effecting this he stuck by the middle, and near his wound, a considerable time, but was not heard by the thieves, who were busily employed in securing their plunder. Making a last exertion, he succeeded in raising himself up, and, dragging the rope after him, he got to the stables behind the house, and called for help as loud as his almost exhausted strength would permit. Five or six grooms immediately came to his assistance; and, learning the cause of his alarm, they seized the robbers as they were coming out of the house; thus fortunately saving the poor fellow's life and Mr. Le Merr's property.

On this evidence the prisoners were subsequently found guilty, the wounded man being able to appear in court against them, and were executed at Tyburn, July 4, 1770.

LEVI WEIL, ASHER WEIL, JACOB LAZARUS, AND SOLOMON PORTER.

EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF JOHN SLOW.

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

On a Saturday evening, just as the Jewish Sabbath was ended, a numerous gang of Jews assembled in Chelsea Fields; and having lurked about there until ten o'clock, at that hour went to the house of Mrs. Hutchings, and demanded admittance. The family had all retired to rest, with the exception of Mrs. Hutchings and her two female servants, and being alarmed by the unseasonable request of the applicants, they proceeded in a body to know their business. The door was no sooner opened, however, than a number of fellows,--all of whom had the appearance of Jews,--rushed in, and seizing the terrified females, threatened them with instant death in the event of their offering any resistance. Mrs. Hutchings, being a woman of considerable muscular strength, for a time opposed them; but her antagonists having soon overpowered her, they tied her petticoats over her head, and proceeded to secure the servants. The girls having been tied back to back, five of the fellows proceeded to ransack the house, while the remainder of the gang remained below to guard the prisoners. Having visited the rooms occupied by the children of Mrs. Hutchings in turn, the ruffians proceeded to the apartment in which two men, employed as labourers on the farm, named John Slow and William Stone, were lying undisturbed by the outcry which had been raised below. It was soon determined that these men were likely to prove mischievous, and that they must be murdered; and Levi Weil, a Jewish physician, who was one of the party, and was the most sanguinary villain of his gang, aimed a blow at the breast of Stone, intended for his death, but which only stunned him. Slow started up, and the villains cried "Shoot him! shoot him!" and a pistol was instantly fired at him, and he fell, exclaiming, "Lord have mercy on me! I am murdered!"

They dragged the wounded man out of the room to the head of the stairs; but in the mean time Stone, recovering his senses, jumped out of bed, and escaped to the roof of the house, through the window. The thieves now descended and plundered the house of all the plate they could discover; but finding no money, they went to Mrs. Hutchings, and threatened to murder her if she did not disclose the place of its concealment. She gave them her watch, and was afterwards compelled to give up a purse containing 65_l._, with which they immediately retired. Mrs. Hutchings now directly set her female servants at liberty, and having gone in search of the men, she found Slow, who declared he was dying, and dropped insensible on the floor. He languished until the following afternoon, and then died of the wounds which he had received.

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

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

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

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

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

They were attended to Tyburn, the place of execution, by immense crowds of people, who were anxious to witness the exit of wretches, whose crimes had been so much the object of public notice.

Having prayed together, and sung a hymn in the Hebrew language, they were launched into eternity, December 9, 1771.

After the bodies had hung the customary time, they were conveyed to Surgeons' Hall to be dissected.

JAMES BOLLAND.

EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.

The adventures of this fellow exhibit him to have been a person of a most profligate disposition. By means of his employment as a bailiff, he obtained the custody of great numbers of unfortunate debtors, whom it became his entire occupation to fleece of any small property which might be left in their possession at the time of their incarceration. Bailiffs at the present day are not much esteemed as persons of respectable character, or whose mode of life is at all calculated to raise them in the opinions of their fellows; but, judging from the case of Bolland, the race appears to have much improved since the year 1772.

Bolland was the son of a butcher in Whitechapel, and having been brought up to his father's trade, he opened a shop on his own account, almost immediately on the termination of his apprenticeship. His ideas of life, however, did not permit him to pay that attention to his business which it demanded; and having spent no small portion of his time and money in the society of bailiffs, thief-takers, and blacklegs, he at length found himself tottering on the eve of bankruptcy. To avoid a catastrophe which might have damaged him in the estimation of his companions, he now sold off his effects; and in order to indulge a taste which he appeared to have imbibed from his recent associations, he procured himself to be appointed one of the officers of the sheriff of Surrey, and opened a "sponging-house," or receptacle for newly-arrested debtors, at the bottom of Falcon-court, near St. George's Church, Southwark. The sponging-houses of the last century, as it may be well supposed, had no better qualities to recommend them than those of the present day, and that of Mr. Bolland appeared to outvie its fellows in the wretchedness and poverty of its equipments. It was, however, speedily inhabited by a number of wretched debtors, and now came the opportunity for its proprietor to exercise his power of discrimination between those who were unable to contribute to his benefit, and those whose purses even yet afforded the possibility of his squeezing from them a few golden drops. Those whose money was all spent were not long permitted to remain in his "establishment," but were sent off to the county prison as soon as the discovery of their poverty was made; but those who could afford to pay for their accommodations, and besides to enter with him into the amusements of cards and dice, were welcomed as honoured visitors, so long as their money lasted, until, in order to avoid further imposition, they demanded to be conveyed to prison, or until the exigency of the writs upon which they had been arrested rendered their removal necessary.

It may be readily imagined that no occasion was allowed by Bolland to slip, on which, either by the exercise of fraud or artifice, he could procure money from his unfortunate guests; and situated as he was--the master of the house, all efforts to oppose his will were of course unavailing so long as his dupes remained under his roof. But while his frauds at home were carried on with the most daring effrontery, he was no less active abroad, in endeavouring to "raise the wind." He became a horse-dealer, and a bill-discounter; and in both of these professions ample opportunities for the exercise of all sorts of chicanery were afforded. At length, however, his name and his infamous practices became so notorious that his business forsook him--his employers justly imagining that when his conduct was so villanous, they might be justly reflected upon for encouraging him--and with his business, the means of meeting his numerous and very heavy expenses declined. His creditors became clamorous, and a commission of bankruptcy was sued out by a friend, but not until he had managed to gull the public to a large extent, and to secrete a very considerable quantity of valuable effects.

Having been "whitewashed" of his old debts, upon his discharge from prison he managed once again to enter into business, and having procured new bondsmen, he was appointed an officer to the sheriff of Middlesex, and opened a sponging-house in the Savoy. His successes in his new avocation were by no means so great as those which he had experienced in his late employment in Surrey; but he managed to eke out the means of existence between his house and his successes at play in the various billiard-rooms in the vicinity of his dwelling.

At length, however, having by his fraudulent schemes involved himself in almost innumerable difficulties, he determined upon once more "passing the court," to get rid of his liabilities; and the necessary proceedings were taken to procure a second commission of bankruptcy. During his sojourn in the Fleet Prison, whither, like many of his late victims, he was now obliged to go, he formed acquaintances by no means calculated to improve his character for respectability, nor to induce him to adopt any new mode of life. On his discharge, through the instrumentality of some of his prison friends, he procured himself once again to be appointed a sheriff's officer of Middlesex, and he now commenced business in Great Shire Lane, Fleet-street. If his exertions as a bailiff in the Savoy had failed in procuring for him those returns which his situation might lead him to expect, he had now no reason to complain of want of patronage. His acquaintance among the "sharp practice" attorneys had been lately increasing, and he was soon almost fully employed by them. His house was again rendered the means of procuring for him the most extravagant returns for his outlay on behalf of his prisoners, and his ingenuity and impudence supplied any deficiency which might have before appeared in his income.

One or two instances of the devices to which he had recourse may prove interesting. Having been employed by a gentleman to arrest a person who was his debtor to the amount of three hundred pounds on a bill of exchange, and who held the situation of captain of an East Indiaman, Bolland immediately proceeded to make the necessary inquiries respecting his prey. He learned that his vessel was about to sail in the course of a very few days; but, determined to be beforehand with him, he caused him to be immediately arrested and carried to his lock-up house. His employer, in the mean time, had gone out of town, and therefore looked for no immediate account from the officer; but the latter having procured the debt and costs from his prisoner, suffered him immediately to depart. Some months elapsed before the plaintiff in the suit returned to London, and then he demanded to know what success the bailiff had had in procuring the payment of the debt; but he was assured by him that the vessel had sailed before the writ was lodged in his hands, and that all his efforts to procure the money had been unavailing. He then tendered a charge of the costs which had been incurred, and the amount having been paid, he walked off. His cheat was soon destined to be discovered, however; for the captain having returned, a writ was lodged in the hands of another officer, by whom he was a second time arrested. The result may be easily imagined: Bolland's receipt for the debt and costs, dated eighteen months before, was produced, and the prisoner was at once set at liberty. Proceedings were then immediately instituted against our hero, and after a long course of opposition to the law, through which he imagined that he would not be followed, he was compelled to refund the money which he had so dishonestly obtained.

The following case shows that he did not always come off the winner:--The custom of putting in sham bail has long been well known; and although recent enactments of the legislature have put an end to this system, founded on perjury and fraud, the "men of straw" who formerly paraded Westminster Hall, ready to swear that they were worth any amount, and who were easily recognised by the straw which hung out of their shoes, are yet well remembered. Bolland, in the course of his professional avocations, had frequent necessity for the use of persons of this description; and he had gone so far as to hire two men for the exclusive use of his establishment, whom he had attired in something like decency, for the sake of giving his transactions an air of respectability. Having upon one occasion accompanied his servants to a public-house in Covent Garden, to regale them after a "good hit," he was surprised to see them suddenly carried off by two Bow-street runners on a charge of highway-robbery. At the ensuing Old Bailey Sessions, they were put upon their trial charged with the offence alleged against them, and a verdict of conviction having been recorded, they were sentenced to be hanged. Bolland, in his capacity of sheriff's officer, was compelled to accompany them to the gallows, and had the mortification of seeing them turned off, wearing the clothes which he had provided them, and which, by custom, became the property of the executioner.

Another instance will show how far his villany extended. A Mrs. Beauclerc was the wife of a captain in the navy, and her husband having been detained at sea for a period much longer than was expected, she contracted a debt amounting to thirty pounds. The creditor became solicitous that the money should be repaid; but Mrs. Beauclerc being devoid of the means of payment, and having no friend to whom in her strait she could apply, was at length arrested by Bolland upon a writ which had been placed in his hands for execution, and conveyed to Great Shire Lane. Having tasted all the pleasures of a residence in a sponging-house, she became anxious in a day or two for her release upon any terms which she could make; and, upon her entreaty, Bolland procured bail to be put in for her on a fee of five guineas being handed over. She had scarcely obtained her liberty, however, before she was rendered into custody by her bail, acting upon the advice of Bolland, who represented that her circumstances were such as to render the continuance of their liability in her behalf exceedingly dangerous. Every post was expected to bring news of Captain Beauclerc, and with it the means of discharging the debt; and the poor woman, terrified at an incarceration in Newgate, with which she was threatened, was induced to raise ten pounds, in order once more to procure her liberation upon bail. The money being tendered, her jailor was too good a judge to permit her to go at large without some further security; and he insisted upon her signing a bond to confess judgment, levyable upon her furniture, as a collateral security. Mrs. Beauclerc was ignorant of the nature of such an instrument, and readily assented to everything that was proposed; and her surprise may be imagined when, on the very day after her liberation, a writ of execution was put into her house, founded upon the judgment signed upon her confession, under which all her goods were seized. Distracted at the prospect of her husband's speedy return, and at his discovery of her destitution, in a state of the wildest desperation she attempted to set fire to the house which she occupied. Her offence was, from its nature, immediately discovered, and the unhappy woman was dragged to Newgate to await her trial. Scarcely had she become an inmate of the jail, the name of which she had before so much dreaded, when her husband arrived in London, and was horror-struck at discovering her situation. Every effort was made by him on her behalf; but before the trial of his wretched wife came on, he was suddenly arrested by Bolland, upon a writ sued out upon an affidavit of debt, falsely sworn at the instance of the officer. His condition may be easily supposed to have been heart-rending in the extreme; and his wife, deprived of the assistance which she might have obtained had he been at large, was convicted and received sentence of death. The captain, in order as soon as possible to be able to render his wife that comfort which her situation demanded, and to make some exertions in her behalf, procured his liberation, though it was by paying the debt to which he was sworn to be liable; and the case of his wife being represented to the king, she was at length released from confinement, upon an unconditional pardon which was granted to her.

By these and other artifices, and by the most unblushing effrontery, Bolland succeeded at length in amassing a sum of two thousand pounds; and the office of City-marshal becoming vacant, he determined, if possible, to become its possessor by way of purchase. The situation, as was then customary, was put up for sale, and after a spirited bidding, he became the buyer at a price of two thousand four hundred pounds; and having paid the deposit-money, and raised such portion of the whole sum as he did not possess, he only waited the approval of the Court of Aldermen at once to take upon himself the duties of the office. His character had, however, became too notorious to permit of his being allowed to assume a situation of so much importance in the City; and a message was communicated to him by the recorder, in which the nature of the grounds of the refusal were stated. An action was threatened upon the breach of contract, as well as upon the defamation of his character, conveyed by the message of the recorder; but finding that he was likely to gain nothing by an opposition to the corporation of London, he desisted from any further proceedings, and demanded the restitution of the amount of the deposit money. But here he was doomed to suffer another disappointment. The amount handed over had been attached by the persons, who had become his sureties to the sheriff, on account of certain liabilities which he had incurred to them under their bail bonds, and it was detained in order to await the decision of a court of law upon the claim.

Before the proceedings which arose upon the subject, however, had terminated, Bolland was guilty of the offence for which he became liable to trial, and was convicted and executed. It appears that his crime consisted in the introduction of a false indorsement upon the back of a bill of exchange, made by Bolland for the purpose of giving it a fictitious value. A person named Jesson having discounted a bill for him, they accidentally met at the George and Vulture Tavern, Cornhill, on the day when it became due. Jesson demanded payment; but Bolland declared that he was unprepared with the money requisite to take up the instrument, and tendered another bill for one hundred pounds, accepted by a Mr. Bradshaw, as an equivalent. Jesson, after some demur, consented to take the bill; and Bolland indorsed it with his own name. This was exclaimed against by Jesson, on the ground that it would not be negociable if his name appeared on it; and he then took a knife, and, according to Jesson's belief, scratched out the whole name, while, in reality, he scratched out all except the initial, which he left, and to which he added the letters "anks," so as to make the name "James Banks." The bill was then handed back to Jesson; and on the following day it was discounted for him by a person named Cardineaux. The latter subsequently demanded to know who Banks was; and Bolland informed him that he was a victualler in the neighbourhood of Rathbone Place, in an extensive and reputable way of business. Before the bill became due it was again discounted for Cardineaux by his banker, and Bradshaw, the acceptor, became bankrupt. Cardineaux, in consequence, applied to Jesson to take up the bill, and he in turn went to Bolland; but the latter positively refused to have anything to do with it, and even went so far as to deny, with the utmost effrontery, that he had ever seen it. At a subsequent meeting between Cardineaux, Jesson, and Bolland, the latter endeavoured to excuse himself from payment, by alleging that his name did not appear on the instrument; but on his being called upon to explain how Banks's indorsement came upon it, he desired that all further disputes might subside, and that he would take it up. An investigation, however, subsequently took place, and Jesson, annoyed at the double fraud which had been practised upon him, took the advice of counsel as to what should be done. An opinion was given that an indictment for forgery would lie, and Bolland was taken into custody; but then immediately a person, who stated his name to be Banks, applied to Cardineaux to take up the bill. The one hundred pounds were accepted, and the supposed Mr. Banks obtained a receipt for that amount; but on his demanding the delivery of the bill, he was informed that it was detained in order to be produced in evidence at the trial, after which he should be welcome to it.

The prisoner was indicted at the ensuing Old Bailey sessions, when proof of the facts which we have detailed having been given, and all efforts to prove the existence of any such Mr. Banks as had been described having failed, a verdict of Guilty was returned. Every effort was subsequently made by the prisoner's counsel, on a motion in arrest of judgment, to procure the verdict to be set aside, but in vain, and sentence of death was passed upon him in the usual form.

On the morning of his execution, the unhappy wretch confessed that he had been guilty of innumerable sins, but declared that he had no fraudulent intention in indorsing the bill when he put it off.

He was hanged at Tyburn on the 18th of March 1772, and his body was in the evening conveyed to Bunhill Fields, and there buried.

WILLIAM GRIFFITHS.

EXECUTED FOR HIGHWAY ROBBERY.

The person robbed in this case was the celebrated and unfortunate Dr. Dodd, whom, a few years afterwards, Fate decreed to be 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 near three years in the East Indies. The ship was paid off on his return to England; and our hero receiving a considerable sum for wages, spent his money, as sailors generally do, in no very reputable company, at public-houses in Wapping and adjacent parts.

Being now reduced to poverty, he was persuaded by two fellows named David Evans and Timothy Johnson to join them in the commission of highway robberies. Their efforts were attended with small success, and Griffiths's reign was soon terminated. It appears that the Rev. Dr. Dodd and his lady were returning from a visit they had been making to a gentleman at St. Albans, but were detained on the way at Barnet, because a post-chaise could not be immediately procured. Night was hastily approaching when they left Barnet; but they proceeded unmolested until they came near the turnpike at the extremity of Tottenham-Court-Road, when three men called to the driver of the carriage, and threatened his instant destruction if he did not stop. The postboy did not hesitate to obey the summons; but no sooner was the carriage stopped than a pistol was fired, the ball from which went through the front glass of the chaise, but did not take any effect to the injury of the parties in it. Griffiths then immediately opened the door of the chaise; on which the doctor begged him to behave with civility, on account of the presence of the lady. He delivered his purse, which contained only two guineas, and a bill of exchange, and also gave the robber some loose silver. Griffiths, having received the booty, decamped with the utmost precipitation; but Dr. Dodd lost no time in repairing to Sir John Fielding's office, where he and his lady gave so full a description of the person of the principal robber, that he was immediately apprehended.

At the trial, the doctor declared that he had only come forward on account of the pistol having been fired, but refused to swear to the person of the prisoner. His lady, however, was more positive in her evidence; and no doubt being left as to his identity, he was found guilty and received sentence of death.

He afterwards confessed the crimes of which he had been guilty, and was executed on the 20th of January 1773, apparently sincerely penitent for his offences.

JOHN LEONARD.

EXECUTED FOR A RAPE.

The circumstances of this case are marked by peculiar atrocity. It appears that a man named Vere, a sheriff's officer, having put an execution into a house of Mr. Brailsford, in Petty France, Westminster, he placed Leonard, Graves, and Gay, three of his followers, in possession.

A young woman named Boss resided in an apartment on the second floor of the house, and on the 15th June, 1773, the family of Mr. Brailsford having all gone out in search of the means of getting rid of their unwelcome visitants, she was left alone in the house with the three officers. She was at work in her own room, when, about mid-day, Leonard opened the door, and began in a familiar manner to speak to her. Terror for a while deprived her of utterance; but finding him proceed to take those liberties which female virtue can never suffer, she resisted, screamed out, seized the villain by the throat, struggled until she was exhausted, and then sank down, deprived of reason. In this situation her assailant used her in the way that constituted the offence for which he was justly executed.

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

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

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

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

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

He was executed on the 11th August, 1773, at Tyburn.

SAMUEL MALE.

EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.

The short life of this culprit was remarkable for producing two surprising instances of the uncertainty of identity.

On the 4th of September, 1772, he was arraigned at the bar of the Old Bailey for a robbery upon a Mrs. Ryan.

The prosecutrix and other witnesses swore positively that the prisoner committed the robbery on the 17th of June then last past.

The court consequently supposed conviction would follow; but being called on for his defence, he said he was innocent, and that the books of the court would prove where he was on the day of the robbery.

Reference was immediately made to the records; and strange yet true to relate, that, on the very day and hour sworn to, Male was actually on his trial at the bar where he then stood, for another robbery, when he was unfortunate enough to have been mistaken for another person. He was consequently acquitted; but the force of example did not deter him from the commission of crime, and although he was discharged from prison without reproach, he came out a determined thief.

His career of villany was soon ended; for in six months afterwards we find him expiating his crimes at the gallows. He was charged with a real robbery, committed by him on the person of Mrs. Grignion, and being unable again to prove an alibi, as he had hitherto done, he was found guilty, and was executed at Tyburn on the 25th of March, 1773.

WILLIAM FARMERY.

EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS MOTHER.

While we sketch the shocking crime of this monster, we have some consolation in observing that, in our long researches into the baseness of mankind, he is the first we have met with, who, with long-lurking malice, shed the blood of his mother.

A subject so strangely horrid and unnatural we shall dismiss by a bare recital of the shocking circumstance.

It appears that among other undutiful acts, he had one morning given offence to his parent, for which he was justly reproached, whereupon he went out of her house, took the knife from his pocket, and deliberately whetted it till quite sharp. Then returning with the murderous instrument in his hand, he found his unfortunate mother in the act of making his own bed.

Without uttering a word, he threw her down, and as a butcher kills a sheep, he stuck her in the throat, and left her weltering in her blood, of which wound she died.

On his examination he confessed the fact, and said that he had determined upon his mother's death three years before; for that he had treasured up malice against her since she had corrected him for some trifling fault when a little boy.

He was executed at Lincoln, where his offence was committed, on the 5th of August, 1775.

AMOS MERRITT.

EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.

The case of this prisoner is a fit successor to that of Samuel Male, which has been just related. His execution arose out of the following circumstances. On the 19th August, 1774, Patrick Maden, convicted of a foot-robbery on the highway, and William Waine and Levi Barnet for burglary, were carried to Tyburn for execution, pursuant to their sentence. When the cart was drawn under the gallows, a man among the crowd of spectators called out for the others to make way for him, as he had something to communicate to the sheriff respecting one of the prisoners. This being effected, the man, who proved to be Amos Merritt, addressed Mr. Reynolds, the under-sheriff, and declared that Patrick Maden was innocent of the crime for which he was about to suffer. Mr. Reynolds desired he would look upon the prisoner, and speak aloud what he had represented to him. He did so, and declared that he was not guilty; but declined accusing himself. The sheriffs, on hearing this declaration, despatched Mr. Reynolds with the information to the secretary of state, and to request his further orders; and a respite being obtained for Maden, he was carried back to Newgate, amid the acclamations of the people.

Merritt was then taken into custody, and at the public office in Bow-street, before Mr. Justice Addington, confessed that he himself was the person who had committed the robbery of which Maden had been convicted, and the last-named prisoner was then pardoned.

Though no doubt remained of Merritt's guilt, yet, as no proof could be adduced to that effect, he for a while escaped justice.

He had been guilty of many robberies, the particulars of which are not interesting, and we shall therefore come to that for which he suffered.

At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in the month of December 1774, Amos Merritt was indicted for feloniously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Edward Ellicott, early in the morning of the 26th of October, and stealing from it a quantity of plate, a gold watch, and other valuable articles, to a large amount.

Mr. Ellicott deposed that he lived in Hornsey-lane, near Highgate, that he was awakened by his wife, who inquired what noise was in the house; and ringing the bell, both of them jumped out of bed. The first words they then heard were, "Come up directly;" and then some person said, "D--n your bloods, we will murder every soul in the house!" Mrs. Ellicott said, "Lord bless me, the door is open!" and running to the door, pushed it close. Mr. Ellicott gave immediate assistance; and a person who was without, who he believed from his voice was the prisoner, said, "D--n you, if you do not open the door, I will murder every one of you!"

The rest of the evidence was to the following effect:--The villains attempted to force open the door, putting a hanger with a scabbard between that and the post; but Mr. Ellicott, who was a powerful man, kept them out by mere strength, and having fastened the door with a drop bolt, which went into the flooring, he ran to the window, and called out "Thieves!" In the mean time Mrs. Ellicott, by perpetual ringing of the bell, hail alarmed the servants, who ran into the road after the thieves, who had by this time got off with the property.

Notice having been given at Sir John Fielding's, Merritt and his accomplices were taken into custody on suspicion, and after an examination at Bow-street were committed to Newgate.

At the trial the evidence was deemed so satisfactory that the jury did not hesitate to find Merritt guilty; in consequence of which he received sentence of death, and was executed at Tyburn on the 18th of January, 1775, within six months of the period of his saving the unfortunate Maden from an untimely and ignominious fate.

Connected with the two cases just detailed, we may relate an anecdote of a very remarkable instance of personal similitude which happened at New York, in North America, in the year 1804.

A man was indicted for bigamy under the name of James Hoag. He was met in a distant part of the country by some friends of his supposed first wife, and apprehended. The prisoner denied the charge, and said his name was Thomas Parker. On the trial, Mrs. Hoag, her relations, and many other credible witnesses, swore that he was James Hoag, and the former swore positively that he was her husband. On the other side, an equal number of witnesses, equally respectable, swore that the prisoner was Thomas Parker; and Mrs. Parker appeared, and claimed him as her husband. The first witnesses were again called by the Court, and they not only again deposed to him, but swore that by stature, shape, gesture, complexion, looks, voice, and speech, he was James Hoag. They even described a particular scar on his forehead, by which he could be known. On turning back the hair, the scar appeared. The others, in return, swore that he had lived among them, worked with them, and was in their company on the very day of his alleged marriage with Mrs. Hoag. Here the scales of testimony were balanced, for the jury knew not to which party to give credit. Mrs. Hoag, anxious to gain back her husband, declared he had a certain more particular mark on the sole of his foot. Mrs. Parker avowed that her husband had no such mark; and the man was ordered to pull off his shoes and stockings. His feet were examined, and no mark appeared.

The ladies now contended for the man, and Mrs. Hoag vowed that she had lost her husband, and she would have him; but during this strife, a justice of the peace from the place where the prisoner was apprehended entered the Court, and turned the scale in his favour. His worship swore him to be Thomas Parker; that he had known, and occasionally employed him, from his infancy; whereupon Mrs. Parker embraced and carried off her husband in triumph, by the verdict of the jury.

The following anecdote was related by Mr. Baron Garrow upon the trial of a prisoner, whose identity was questionable, on the Oxford Circuit. The learned judge was in the course of summing up the case to the jury, when he stated that a few years before, a prisoner was on his trial before him, upon a charge of highway robbery. His person was identified positively by the prosecutor, who even went so far as to say that he now wore the same clothes in which he had been attired on the occasion on which the robbery was committed; and the jury were on the point of being dismissed to the consideration of their verdict, when suddenly shouts were heard in the yard attached to the Court-house;--cries of "Make way--make way," were distinguished;--and a man on horseback, whose appearance denoted the rapidity with which he had ridden, rushed in among the people congregated to await the result of the trial, and, throwing himself from his horse, which was covered with foam, made his way with the greatest expedition to the entrance of the Court. The outcry which was raised had stopped the learned judge in his concluding observations, and before he could resume his address to the jury, the man, booted and spurred, and covered with mud, called upon him to "stop the case, for that he had ridden fifty miles to save the life of a fellow-creature--the prisoner at the bar." His lordship and the Court were astonished at the interruption, and called upon the stranger to explain his conduct. His answer was that he knew that the prisoner could not be guilty of the offence imputed to him; and he called upon the prosecutor of the indictment to say whether, after having seen him, he could still swear that the prisoner was the offender. The prosecutor again entered the witness-box, and surveyed the stranger from head to foot. He was dressed in a manner precisely similar to that in which the prisoner was attired--a green coat with brass buttons, drab breeches, and top-boots;--their countenances were so nearly alike in style, that from the transient view he had had of the robber, he was unable to distinguish which was the real thief. The Court were unwilling to suffer a person who was really innocent to be convicted, and proceeded to make inquiries of the stranger as to his reasons for interrupting the trial, and as to his knowledge of the circumstances of the robbery. Upon the former point, the only explanation which could be obtained from him was, that he was perfectly satisfied that the prisoner was innocent; upon the latter he declined to answer any queries, insinuating that, situated as he was, the Court would not compel him to criminate himself. The prisoner now reiterated the protestations of innocence which he had before made; and the prosecutor, being strictly examined by the Court, declared that he was so confused by the similarity which existed between the prisoner and the stranger, that he was unable to swear that the former was actually the thief; and that his impression now was, that the latter was the real offender. Under these circumstances, it was left to the jury to say, whether they could with safety declare the prisoner to be guilty; and a verdict of acquittal was in consequence returned, to the apparent satisfaction of the Court. It now became the duty of the judge to determine what further proceedings should be taken. A robbery, there was no doubt, had been committed, and its commission lay between the person who had just been acquitted and the stranger. The former must be presumed to be not guilty, because the jury had declared him to be so; and a bill of indictment was therefore directed to be preferred against the latter, who was taken into custody. The same evidence which had before been given was now repeated, and a true bill was returned. The trial came on in the course of the ensuing day, and a fresh jury being impanelled, the new prisoner was put upon his defence. It was a simple and plain one; "he was not guilty. The prosecutor had sworn positively to the person of the prisoner, who had been tried on the previous day, and could he now be permitted so to alter his testimony, as to procure the conviction of another? He had before declared that he could not distinguish the real offender, and what better opportunity had been since afforded him? Besides, his evidence now went only to his 'belief' as to the identity of the person charged: and surely if the jury had before acquitted a prisoner to whom he had sworn positively, they would not now convict, when his testimony was qualified." This reasoning was too much for the jury; the prisoner had made no confession of his own guilt, and he was declared not guilty. The sequel was soon discovered; the two men were brothers: the first prisoner was the guilty party, and the whole "scene" got up by the stranger was a mere fabrication, invented for the purpose of gulling the Court and jury. No proceedings could be taken against either party; for although the Court had been imposed upon, the imposition was backed by no perjury, and the two thieves--for so they turned out--escaped unpunished.

Another instance of remarkable imposition being practised upon the Court, occurred subsequently at York. The case of a person who was charged with an extensive robbery on the highway, had attracted considerable attention. The prisoner, when apprehended, was attired in the habit of a working man; but the prosecutor, whose evidence as to his identity was positive, swore that when the robbery was committed he was well dressed, and mounted. The trial came on at the York assizes, and the Court was crowded with persons. Upon the evening preceding the day on which the case was fixed for trial, a gentleman drove up to one of the principal inns of the city in a travelling chariot, and requested to be accommodated with a bed. A handsome supper was ordered, and the stranger retired to rest. In the morning breakfast was served, and the landlord was sent for. The gentleman said that he was unacquainted with the town, and found that he was a day too early for the business upon which he had come to York: and he therefore desired to know whether there were any amusements going on, with which he could entertain himself until dinner-time. The castle, the minster, and various other curiosities were alluded to, in which he appeared to take no interest; and the landlord at length mentioned that the assizes were on, and suggested that he might probably derive some entertainment from listening to the trials; and he stated that a remarkable case of highway robbery was fixed for trial on that morning, and had by that time probably commenced. Some curiosity on this point was expressed; and the landlord, conducting his guest to the Court-house, obtained for him a seat upon the bench, upon assuring the high sheriff of his being a person of great apparent respectability, which the landlord had good reason to believe, from his having seen him with a bundle of notes in his possession of no inconsiderable size, which he observed that he had placed in his trunk with his pocket-book on his quitting the inn. The case of highway robbery, as the landlord suggested, had already commenced; the prisoner appeared to be a poor man, and was standing at the bar, with his face buried in his handkerchief, apparently deeply affected by the situation in which he was placed, and almost unconscious of what was passing around him. The trial now approached its termination; the evidence for the prosecution was completed, and the learned judge called on the prisoner for his defence. He raised himself languidly from the place where he had been resting, and assured the jury that he was innocent, when, suddenly starting, he exclaimed passionately. "There, there, my lord, there is a gentleman seated on your lordship's bench who can prove that I am not guilty!" All eyes were turned to the person to whom the prisoner's finger, in support of his declaration, was pointed; and the stranger was found to be the object of the remark. He expressed great surprise at being thus called upon, and declared that he was at a loss to know how the prisoner could appeal to him, for that he had no immediate recollection that he had ever seen him before. The learned judge demanded that the prisoner should explain himself; and he then stated that on the very day named in the indictment, and by the witnesses, as that on which the robbery had been committed, he was at Dover, and had conveyed the gentleman's luggage in a wheelbarrow from the Ship Inn to the steam-packet, in which he was about to start for Calais. The gentleman, in answer to the questions put to him, said that he certainly had been at Dover about the time mentioned, and that he had lodged at the Ship Inn, and had gone from thence by steam to Calais. He remembered too that a man had carried his trunks as the prisoner had described; but that although he now had some distant recollection of the features of the man at the bar, he was unable to recognize him as the person he had employed; and he could not besides swear to the date of the transaction. The court inquired whether he was in the habit of making memoranda of his proceedings, and whether, by referring to any documents, he should be able to give any more decided information upon the subject? He answered, that being engaged in a large mercantile business it was certainly his custom to make notes in his pocket-book, but that the book was at his inn, locked in his trunk. The court said that in such a case it was desirable that the most minute inspection should take place, and desired that the gentleman should go for his book. The latter was unwilling to take this trouble, but would give his keys to the officer of the court, who might, in the presence of his landlord, open his trunk and bring the book to the court. Messengers were in consequence despatched, with directions to make further inquiries of the landlord as to the stranger; and in the meantime the prisoner proceeded to ask him questions, reminding him of certain occurrences which had taken place on the day in question on their way from the inn to the quay, and more especially that the packet was late in starting. To most of these the gentleman assented, and the pocket-book being now arrived he referred to it, and declared that the date mentioned was the very day on which he had quitted Dover as described; and from all the circumstances which the prisoner had detailed, he was decidedly of opinion that he was the person whom he had employed. The circumstances attending the arrival and sojourn of the stranger at the inn, as detailed by the landlord, who had come into court, were now whispered to the judge; and the gentleman having given his name, and stated himself to be connected with a most respectable banking firm in the city of London, the learned judge summed up the case, commenting upon the very remarkable coincidence which had occurred; and the jury, giving full credit to the testimony of the stranger, at once returned a verdict of not guilty in favour of the prisoner. This decision appeared to give perfect satisfaction to the court, and the prisoner was ordered to be immediately discharged. The stranger was complimented by the judge upon the essential service which he had been the means of rendering to a fellow creature, and left the court, declaring his happiness at his having been able to give such testimony. Within a fortnight afterwards, the late prisoner and his friend, the London merchant, were lodged in York Castle, charged with a most daring act of housebreaking, in which they had been concerned. The notes which the latter had sported at the inn were found to be drawn upon the "Bank of Fashion" instead of upon the "Bank of England;" and upon the prisoners being tried at the ensuing assizes, they were found guilty, and their lives were justly forfeited to the laws of their country.

JOHN RANN, alias SIXTEEN STRINGED JACK.

EXECUTED FOR HIGHWAY ROBBERY.

The name of this criminal will be immediately recollected as one which has attained no small share of notoriety. He was born at a village a few miles from Bath, of poor parents; and during the greater part of his youth he obtained a living by pursuing the business of a costermonger. At the age of twelve years he was hired by a lady of distinction, whom he accompanied to London; and subsequently being employed in her stables, he obtained some knowledge of horses, and having served in the more humble capacity of post-boy at an inn, he was at length taken into the service of a gentleman of fortune, in Portman-square, as coachman. It was at this period that he dressed in the manner which gave rise to his appellation of Sixteen-stringed Jack, by wearing breeches with eight strings on each knee; but after having been employed by several noblemen he lost his character, and turned pickpocket, in company with three fellows named Jones, Clayton, and College, the latter of whom, a mere boy, obtained the name of Eight-stringed Jack.

The first appearance which our hero appears to have made at the bar of any Court of Justice was at the sessions held at the Old Bailey in April, 1774, when, with Clayton and one Shepherd, he was tried for robbing Mr. William Somers on the highway, and acquitted for want of evidence. They were again tried for robbing Mr. Langford, but acquitted for the same reason.

He was soon destined to be again in custody, however, and on the 30th of May following, he was charged with robbing John Devall, Esq. near the nine-mile stone on the Hounslow road, of his watch and money. It appeared that he had given the watch to a young woman with whom he lived, named Roche, who had delivered it to Catherine Smith, by whom it was offered in pledge to Mr. Hallam a pawnbroker, who, suspecting it was not honestly obtained, caused the parties to be taken into custody. Roche was now charged with receiving the watch, knowing it to have been stolen; and Smith, being sworn, deposed that on the day Mr. Devall was robbed, Roche told her that "she expected Rann to bring her some money in the evening;" that he accordingly came about ten at night, and having retired some time with Roche, she, on her return, owned that she had received a watch and five guineas from him, which he said he had taken from a gentleman on the highway; and that she, Smith, carried the watch to pawn to Mr. Hallam at the request of Roche. Upon this charge the prisoner Rann was again sent to Newgate; but on his trial in July 1774, he was acquitted. On his appearing at the bar, he was dressed in a manner above his style of life and his circumstances. He had a bundle of flowers in the breast of his coat almost as large as a broom; and his irons were tied up with a number of blue ribands.

Two or three days after this acquittal Rann engaged to sup with a girl at her lodgings in Bow Street; but not being punctual to his appointment, the woman went to bed, and her paramour being unable to obtain admittance by the door, proceeded to effect an entrance through the window; and had nearly accomplished his purpose, when a watchman interrupted him, and took him into custody. He was charged at Bow-street on the 27th of July with this alleged burglarious attempt; but the "young lady" appearing, declared the prisoner could have had no felonious intent, for that so far from her opposing his entry, had she been awake, she would instantly have admitted him; and besides that he was quite welcome to share everything that she possessed, even to her bed. Upon this declaration, the prisoner was dismissed, with a caution to adopt a less dangerous method of pursuing his amours.

After this it seems that the proceedings of our hero became pretty notorious, and he took no trouble either to conceal or disguise his person or his acts. He did not hesitate to proclaim himself as "Sixteen-stringed Jack, the famous highwayman," and to appear at public places attired in a peculiar manner so as to excite observation and attention. It does not appear that his attacks were marked by any great degree of atrocity; and the celebrity which he obtained was rather of his own seeking. A short time before he was convicted of the offence which cost him his life, he attended a public execution at Tyburn, and getting in the ring formed by the constables round the gallows, desired that he might be permitted to stand there, "for," said he, "perhaps it is very proper that I should be a spectator on this occasion."

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

It further appeared that, on the night of the robbery, Rann's companion Eleanor Roche, and her maid-servant, Christian Stewart, went to the shop of Mr. Cordy, a pawnbroker in Oxford-road, to pledge the watch, but that he stopped it, and found out its owner by applying to Mr. Grignon, its maker, in Russell-street, Covent-garden; and evidence was also adduced as to the identity of Rann, who was proved to have been seen at Acton within twenty minutes of the time of the robbery being committed. The prisoners were thereupon sent to Newgate to take their trials; and Roche and Stewart being also apprehended, were indicted as accessories after the fact.

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

When Rann was brought down to take his trial he was dressed in a new suit of pea-green clothes; his hat was bound round with silver strings; he wore a ruffled shirt, and his behaviour evinced the utmost unconcern. Upon hearing the verdict of the jury, which consigned him to death, he endeavoured to force a smile, but the attempt was a failure, and it was evident that the confidence which he had before exhibited, now forsook him. He had been so certain of acquittal, that he had ordered a supper to be provided on the occasion; but his anticipations of pleasure were quickly changed into the reality of sorrow. After conviction, his behaviour was for a time unfitted for the melancholy condition in which he was placed. On Sunday, the 23d of October, he had seven girls to dine with him, and with their mirth endeavoured to shake off the heaviness which beset him, but the warrant for his execution soon after arriving, he became more sensible of his awful situation, and began to prepare for the sad fate which awaited him. At his execution, he behaved with decent resignation, and surveyed the gallows with an eye of confidence. He was executed on the 30th of November, 1774; and having hung the usual time, his body was delivered over to his friends for interment.

ROBERT AND DANIEL PERREAU.

EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.

The circumstances of the cases of these prisoners are of a very remarkable description. It appears that the accused persons were twin brothers, and were so much alike that it was with difficulty that they were known apart. Robert Perreau carried on business in Golden-square as an apothecary, and was in great practice; while his brother lived in a style of considerable fashion, a Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd living with him as his wife.

At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in June 1775, Robert Perreau was indicted for forging a bond for the payment of 7,500_l._ in the name of William Adair, Esq (then a great government contractor), and also for feloniously uttering and publishing the said bond, knowing it to be forged, with intent to defraud Messrs. Robert and Henry Drummond, bankers.

From the evidence which was adduced at the trial, it appeared that on the 10th of March, 1775, the prisoner under trial, whose character up to that time had been considered unimpeachable, went to the house of Messrs. Drummond, and seeing Mr. Henry Drummond, one of the partners, said that he had been making a purchase of an estate in Norfolk or Suffolk, for which he was to give 12,000_l._, but that he had not sufficient cash to pay the whole purchase-money. That he had a bond, however, which Mr. Adair had given to his brother Daniel, for 7,500_l._, upon which he desired to raise a sum of 5000_l._, out of which he was willing to pay 1,400_l._, which he had already borrowed of the firm.

Mr. Drummond, on the production of the bond, had no sooner looked at the signature than he doubted its authenticity, and very politely asked the prisoner if he had seen Mr. Adair sign it. The latter said he had not, but that he had no doubt that it was authentic, from the nature of the connexion that subsisted between Mrs. Rudd, who was known to live with Daniel, and that gentleman; a suggestion having previously been thrown out that she was his natural daughter. Mr. Drummond, however, declined advancing any money without the sanction of his brother, and he desired Perreau to leave the bond, saying that it should either be returned on the next day, or the money produced. The prisoner made no scruple to obey this suggestion, and he retired, promising to call again the next day.

In the interim, Mr. Drummond examined the bond with greater attention; and Mr. Stephens, secretary of the Admiralty, happening to call, his opinion was demanded, when, comparing the signature to the bond with letters which he had lately received from Mr. Adair, he was firmly convinced that it was forged. When Perreau came on the following day, Mr. Drummond spoke more freely than he had done before, and told him that he imagined he had been imposed on; but begged, that to remove all doubt, he would go with him to Mr. Adair, and get that gentleman to acknowledge the validity of the bond, on which the money would be advanced. This was immediately acceded to; and on Mr. Adair seeing the document, he at once declared that the signature was a forgery. The prisoner smiled incredulously, and said that he jested; but Mr. Adair remarked that it was no jesting matter, and that it lay on him to clear up the affair. On this he went away, requesting to have the bond, in order to make the necessary inquiries--a request which was refused; and persons being employed to watch him, it was found that immediately on his arrival at his house, he and his brother and Mrs. Rudd got into a coach, carrying with them all the valuables which they could collect, with a design to make their escape. They were, however, stopped, and taken into custody, and being conveyed to Sir John Fielding's, at Bow-street, they there underwent an examination, and upon the evidence adduced, were committed to prison. Other charges were subsequently brought against them by Sir Thomas Frankland, from whom they had obtained two sums of 5000_l._ and 4000_l._ on similar forged bonds, as well as 4000_l._ which they had paid when the amount became due; and by Dr. Brooke, who alleged that they had obtained from him 1500_l._ in bonds of the Ayr bank, upon the security of a forged bond for 3100_l._; and Mrs. Rudd was then admitted as evidence for the Crown. Her deposition then was, that she was the daughter of a nobleman in Scotland; that, when young, she married an officer in the army named Rudd, against the consent of her friends; that her fortune was considerable; that on a disagreement with her husband, they resolved to part; that she made a reserve of money, jewels, and effects, to the amount of thirteen thousand pounds, all of which she gave to Daniel Perreau, whom she said she loved with the tenderness of a wife; that she had three children by him; that he had returned her kindness in every respect till lately, when, having been unfortunate in gaming in the alley, he had become uneasy, peevish, and much altered to her; that he cruelly constrained her to sign the bond now in question, by holding a knife to her throat, and swearing that he would murder her if she did not comply; that, being struck with remorse, she had acquainted Mr. Adair with what she had done; and that she was now willing to declare every transaction with which she was acquainted, whenever she should be called upon by law so to do.

Upon the cross-examination of Mr. Drummond, however, he swore that Mrs. Rudd on her being first apprehended, took the whole on herself, and acknowledged that she had forged the bonds; that she begged them "for God's sake to have mercy on an innocent man," and that she said no injury was intended to any person, and that all would be paid; and that she acknowledged delivering the bond to the prisoner. They then entertained an opinion that the prisoner was her dupe; and Mr. Robert Drummond having expressed a notion that she could not have forged a handwriting so dissimilar from that of a woman as Mr. Adair's, she immediately, in order to satisfy them of the truth of what she said, wrote the name "William Adair" on a paper exactly like the signature which appeared attached to the bond.

Mr. Watson, a money-scrivener, also deposed, that he had filled up the bonds at the desire of one of the brothers, and in pursuance of instructions received from him; but he hesitated to fix on either, on account of their great personal resemblance; and being pressed to make a positive declaration, he fixed on Daniel as his employer.

The case for the prosecution being concluded, the prisoner entered upon his defence. In a long and ingenious speech, which he addressed to the jury, he strove hard to prove that he was the victim of the artifices of Mrs. Rudd.

He said that she was constantly conversing about the influence she had over Mr. W. Adair; and that Mr. Adair had, by his interest with the king, obtained the promise of a baronetage for Daniel Perreau, and was about procuring him a seat in parliament. That Mr. Adair had promised to open a bank, and take the brothers Perreau into partnership with him. That the prisoner received many letters signed "William Adair," which he had no doubt came from that gentleman, in which were promises of giving them a considerable part of his fortune during his life; and that he was to allow Daniel Perreau two thousand four hundred pounds a year for his household expenses, and six hundred pounds a year for Mrs. Rudd's pin-money. That Mr. Daniel Perreau purchased a house in Harley-street for four thousand pounds, which money Mr. William Adair was to give them. That when Daniel Perreau was pressed by the person of whom he bought the house for the money, the prisoner understood that they applied to Mr. William Adair, and that his answer was, that he had lent the king seventy thousand pounds, and had purchased a house in Pall Mall at seven thousand pounds, in which to carry on the banking business, and therefore could not spare the four thousand pounds at that time.

He declared that all attempts at personal communication with Mr. Adair were strenuously opposed by Mrs. Rudd as being likely to destroy the effects of her exertions on his behalf, and contended that his conduct throughout the whole transaction with Mr. Drummond, showed that he was innocent of any guilty intention, and that he firmly believed that he was acting honestly and justly.

He then proceeded to call the following witnesses, whose evidence we shall give in the most concise manner:--

George Kinder deposed that Mrs. Perreau (the only name by which he knew Mrs, Rudd) told him "that she was a near relation of Mr. James Adair; that he looked upon her as his child, had promised to make her fortune, and with that view had recommended her to Mr. William Adair, a near relation and intimate friend of his, who had promised to set her husband and the prisoner up in the banking business." He also deposed that she said that Mr. Daniel Perreau was to be made a baronet, and described how she would act when she became a lady. The witness further deposed that Mrs. Rudd often pretended that Mr. William Adair had called to see her, but that he never had seen that gentleman on any visit.

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

Susannah Perreau (the prisoner's sister) deposed to her having seen a note delivered to Daniel Perreau, by Mrs. Rudd, for nineteen thousand pounds, drawn as by William Adair, on Mr. Croft, the banker, in favour of Daniel Perreau.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It will be unnecessary now to give anything more than a succinct account of the trial of Daniel Perreau, which immediately followed that of his brother. He was indicted for forging and counterfeiting a bond, in the name of William Adair, for three thousand three hundred pounds, to defraud the said William Adair, and for uttering the same knowing it to be forged, to defraud Thomas Brooke, doctor of physic. Mr. Scroope Ogilvie, clerk to Mr. William Adair, proved the forgery; and Dr. Brooke swore to the uttering of the bond.

The defence set up by the prisoner was, that Mrs. Rudd had given the bond to him as a true one; and he asserted, in the most solemn manner, that he had had no intention to defraud any man. Like his brother, he called several witnesses to show the artifices of which Mrs. Rudd had been guilty; and many persons proved the great respectability of his character.

The jury, however, returned a verdict of guilty, and both prisoners were sentenced to death; but the execution did not take place until January 1776, in consequence of the proceedings which were subsequently taken against Mrs. Rudd.

After conviction the behaviour of the brothers was, in every respect, proper for their unhappy situation. Great interest was made to obtain a pardon for them, particularly for Robert, in whose favour seventy-eight bankers and merchants of London signed a petition to the king: the news papers were filled with paragraphs, evidently written by disinterested persons, in favour of men whom they thought dupes to the designs of an artful woman: but all was of no avail.

On the day of execution the brothers were favoured with a mourning-coach, in which to be conveyed to the scaffold; and their conduct throughout was of the most exemplary description. After the customary devotions were concluded, they crossed hands, and joining the four together, in that manner were launched into eternity. They had not hanged more than half a minute when their hands dropped asunder, and they appeared to die without pain.

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

Daniel Perreau and Robert Perreau were executed at Tyburn on the 17th of January, 1776.

On the Sunday following, the bodies were carried from the house of Robert, in Golden-square, and, after the usual solemnities, deposited in the vault of St. Martin's church. A mob of thirty thousand persons attended the execution, and an equal number appeared at the funeral, but nothing occurred to disturb the solemnity of either scene.

MARGARET CAROLINE RUDD.

TRIED FOR FORGERY.

On the 16th of September, 1775, Mrs. Rudd was put to the bar at the Old Bailey, to be tried for forgery; but the counsel for the prisoner pleading that, as she had been already admitted an evidence for the crown, it was unprecedented to detain her for trial, and the judges differing in opinion on the point of law, she was remanded to prison till the opinion of the judges could be taken on a subject of so much importance.

On the 8th of December, 1775, she was arraigned on an indictment for feloniously forging a bond, purporting to be signed by William Adair, and for feloniously uttering and publishing the same.

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

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

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

Sergeant Davy cross-examined Mrs. Perreau. She acknowledged that till the 24th of December she had never seen a bond in her life; and that on her first sight of that in question she had no suspicion that anything was wrong.

John Moody, the servant to Daniel Perreau, who had been examined on the former trials, was called, and repeated the testimony which he had before given. The bond which in this case was alleged to have been uttered was that for 4000_l._, on which Sir Thomas Frankland had advanced money.

The prisoner, on being called on for her defence, in a short speech declared that she was innocent, and concluded by leaving her case in the hands of the jury, who almost immediately declared her not guilty.

As soon as the verdict was returned, she quitted the Court, and retired to the house of a friend at the west end of the town.

THE COUNTESS OF BRISTOL, OTHERWISE THE DUCHESS OF KINGSTON.

CONVICTED OF BIGAMY.

Few females have in their time attracted so large a portion of public attention as this celebrated lady. She was the daughter of Colonel Chudleigh, the descendant of an ancient family in the county of Devon; but her father dying while she was yet young, her mother was left possessed only of a small estate with which to bring her up, and to fit her for that grade of society in which from her birth she was entitled to move. Being possessed, however, of excellent qualities, she improved the connexion which she had among persons of fashion, with a view to the future success in life of her daughter. The latter, meanwhile, as she advanced in years, improved in beauty; and upon her attaining the age of eighteen was distinguished as well for the loveliness of her person as for the wit and brilliancy of her conversation. Her education had not been neglected; and, despite the small fortune possessed by her mother, no opportunity was lost by which her mind might be improved; and a means was about this time afforded for the display of her accomplishments. The father of George the Third held his court at Leicester-house; and Mr. Pulteney, who then blazed as a meteor on the opposition benches in the House of Commons, was honoured with the particular regard of His Royal Highness. Miss Chudleigh had been introduced to Mr. Pulteney; and he had admired her for the beauties of her mind and of her person; and, his sympathies being excited in her behalf, he obtained for her, at the age of eighteen, the appointment of maid of honour to the Princess of Wales. His efforts, however, did not stop at thus elevating her to a situation of the highest honour; but he also endeavoured to improve the cultivation of her understanding by instruction; and to him Miss Chudleigh read, and with him, when separated by distance, she corresponded.

The station to which Miss Chudleigh had been advanced, combined with her numerous personal attractions, produced her many admirers: some with titles, and others in the expectation of them. Among the former was the Duke of Hamilton, whom Miss Gunning had afterwards the good fortune to obtain for a consort. The duke was passionately attached to Miss Chudleigh; and pressed his suit with such ardour as to obtain a solemn engagement on her part, that on his return from a tour, for which he was preparing, she would become his wife. There were reasons why this event should not immediately take place; but that the engagement would be fulfilled at the specified time was considered by both parties as a moral certainty. A mutual pledge was given and accepted; the duke commenced his proposed tour; and the parting condition was, that he should write by every opportunity, and that Miss Chudleigh of course should answer his epistles. Thus the arrangement of Fortune seemed to have united a pair who possibly might have experienced much happiness, for between the duke and Miss Chudleigh there was a strong similarity of disposition; but Fate had not destined them for each other.

Miss Chudleigh had an aunt, whose name was Hanmer: at her house the Hon. Mr. Hervey, son of the Earl of Bristol, and a captain in the royal navy, was a visitor. To this gentleman Mrs. Hanmer became so exceedingly partial, that she favoured views which he entertained towards her niece, and engaged her efforts to effect, if possible, a matrimonial connexion. There were two difficulties which would have been insurmountable, had they not been opposed by the fertile genius of a female--Miss Chudleigh disliked Captain Hervey, and she was betrothed to the Duke of Hamilton.

No exertions which could possibly be made were spared to render this latter alliance nugatory; and the wits of this woman were exerted to the utmost to favour the object which she had in view. The letters of his grace were intercepted by Mrs. Hanmer; and his supposed silence giving offence to her niece, she worked so successfully on her pride as to induce her to abandon all thoughts of her lover, whose passion she had cherished with delight. A conduct the reverse of that imputed to the duke was observed by Captain Hervey: he was all that assiduity could dictate or attention perform. He had daily access to Miss Chudleigh; and each interview was artfully improved by the aunt to the promotion of her own views. The letters of his grace of Hamilton, which regularly arrived, were as regularly suppressed; until, piqued beyond endurance, Miss Chudleigh was prevailed on to accept the hand of Captain Hervey, and by a private marriage, to ensure the participation of his future honours and fortune. The ceremony was performed in a private chapel adjoining the country mansion of Mr. Merrill, at Lainston, near Winchester, in Hampshire.

On a review of life, the predominant evil experienced may be easily traced by every reflecting mind to some wilful error or injudicious mistake, operating as a determinate cause, and giving the colour to our fate. This was the case with Miss Chudleigh; and the hour at which she became united with Captain Hervey proved to her the origin of every subsequent unhappiness. The connubial rites were attended with unhappy consequences; and from the night following the day on which the marriage was solemnized, Miss Chudleigh resolved never to have any further connexion with her husband. To prevail on him not to claim her as his wife required all the art of which she was mistress; and the best dissuasive was the loss of her situation as maid of honour, should the marriage become publicly known. The circumstances of Captain Hervey were not in a flourishing condition, and were ill calculated to enable him to ride with a high hand over his wife; and the fear of the loss of the emoluments of her office operated most powerfully with him to induce him to obey the injunctions which she imposed upon him in this respect. His conduct even now, however, exhibited a strong desire to act with a degree of harshness most unusual so soon after the performance of the marriage ceremony; and the consequence was that any feelings of respect which his wife may have fancied she entertained for him were soon dispelled. Her own expression subsequently was that "her misery commenced with the arrival of Captain Hervey in England; and the greatest joy she experienced was on the intelligence of his departure." Her marriage being unknown to mere outward observers, Miss Chudleigh, or Mrs. Hervey, a maid in appearance--a wife in disguise--would have been supposed to be placed in a most enviable condition. The attractive centre of the circle in which she moved, the invigorating spirit of the life of the society formed around her, she was universally admired. Her royal mistress smiled upon her; the friendship of many was at her call; the admiration of none could be withheld from her: but amidst all her conquests and all her fancied happiness she wanted that peace of mind which was so necessary to support her against the conflicts which arose in her own breast. Nor was her own heart, that inward monitor, the only source of her trouble. Her husband, quieted for a time, grew obstreperous as he saw the jewel admired by all, which was, he felt, entitled only to his love; and feeling that he possessed the right to her entire consideration, he resolved to assert its power. In the mean time every art which she possessed had been put into operation to soothe him to continued silence; but her further endeavours being unsuccessful, she was compelled to grant his request, and to attend an interview which he appointed, at his own house, and to which he enforced obedience by threatening an instant and full disclosure in case of her non-compliance. The meeting was strictly private, all persons being sent from the house with the exception of a black servant; and on Mrs. Hervey's entrance to the apartment in which her husband was seated, his first care was to prevent all intrusion by locking the door. This meeting, like all others between her and her husband, was unfortunate in its effects: the fruit of it was the birth of a boy, whose existence it will be readily supposed she had much difficulty in concealing. Her removal to Brompton for a change of air became requisite during the term of her confinement; and she returned to Leicester-house, perfectly recovered from her indisposition; but the infant soon sinking in the arms of death, left only the tale of its existence to be related.

In the mean time, the sum of her unhappiness had been completed by the return of the Duke of Hamilton. His grace had no sooner arrived in England, than he hastened to pay his adoration at the feet of his idol, and to learn the cause of her silence, when his letters had been regularly despatched to her. An interview which took place soon set the character of Mrs. Hanmer in its true light; but while Miss Chudleigh was convinced of the imposition which had been practised upon her, she was unable to accept the proffered hand of her illustrious suitor, or to explain the reason for her apparently ungracious rejection of his addresses. The duke, flighty as he was in other respects, in his love for Miss Chudleigh had at least been sincere; and this strange conduct on the part of his betrothed, followed as it was by a request on her part that he would not again intrude his visits upon her, raised emotions in his mind which can hardly be described. The rejection of his grace was followed by that of several other persons of distinction; and the mother of Miss Chudleigh, who was quite unaware of her private marriage with Captain Hervey, could not conceal her regret and anger at the supposed folly of her daughter.

It was impossible that these circumstances could long remain concealed from the society in which Miss Chudleigh moved; and, in order to relieve herself from the embarrassments by which she was surrounded, she determined to travel on the Continent--trusting that time would eradicate the impression of her fickleness which she left behind her, and that change of scene would remove the pain which every day spent in the theatre of her former operations could not fail to sink deeper into her heart. Germany was the place selected by her for her travels; and she, in turn, visited the chief cities of its principalities. Possessed as she was of introductions of the highest class, she was gratified by obtaining the acquaintance of many crowned heads. Frederic of Prussia conversed and corresponded with her. In the Electress of Saxony she found a friend whose affection for her continued to the latest period of life. The electress was a woman of sense, honour, virtue, and religion; and her letters were replete with kindness. While her hand distributed presents to Miss Chudleigh out of the treasury of abundance, her heart was interested for her happiness. This she afterwards evinced during her prosecution; for at that time a letter from the electress contained the following passage:--"You have long experienced my love; my revenue, my protection, my everything, you may command. Come then, my dear life, to an asylum of peace. Quit a country where, if you are bequeathed a cloak, some pretender may start up, and ruin you by law to prove it not your property. Let me have you at Dresden."

On her return from the Continent Miss Chudleigh ran over the career of pleasure, enlivened the court circles, and each year became more ingratiated with the mistress whom she served. She was the leader of fashion, played whist with Lord Chesterfield, and revelled with Lady Harrington and Miss Ashe. She was a constant visitant at all public places, and in 1742 appeared at a masked ball in the character of Iphigenia.

Reflection, however, put off for the day, too frequently intruded an unwelcome visit at night. Captain Hervey, like a perturbed spirit, was eternally crossing the path trodden by his wife. If in the rooms at Bath, he was sure to be there. At a rout, ridotto, or ball, this destroyer of her peace embittered every pleasure, and even menaced her with an intimation that he would disclose the marriage to the princess.

Miss Chudleigh, now persuaded of the folly and danger of any longer concealment from her royal mistress, determined that the design, which her husband had formed from a malicious feeling, should be carried out by herself from a principle of rectitude; and she, in consequence, communicated to the princess the whole of the circumstances attending her unhappy union. The recital was one which could excite no feeling of disrespect or of anger; and her royal mistress pitied her, and continued her patronage up to the hour of her death.

At length a stratagem was either suggested, or it occurred to Miss Chudleigh, at once to deprive Captain Hervey of the power to claim her as his wife. The clergyman who had married them was dead. The register-book was in careless hands. A handsome compliment was paid fur the inspection; and while the person, in whose custody it was, listened to an amusing story, Miss Chudleigh tore out the register. Thus imagining the business accomplished, she for a time bade defiance to her husband, whose taste for the softer sex having subsided from some unaccountable cause, afforded Miss Chudleigh a cessation of inquietude.

A change in the circumstances of the captain, however, effected an alteration in the feelings of his wife. His father having died, he succeeded to the title of the Earl of Bristol, and his accession to nobility was not unaccompanied by an increase of fortune. Miss Chudleigh saw that by assuming the title of Countess of Bristol she would probably command increased respect, and would obtain greater power; and with a degree of unparalleled blindness, she went to the house of Mr. Merrill, the clergyman in whose chapel she had been married, to restore those proofs of her union which she had previously taken such pains to destroy. Her ostensible reason was a jaunt out of town; her real design was to procure, if possible, the insertion of her marriage with Captain Hervey in the book which she had formerly mutilated. With this view she dealt out promises with a liberal hand. The officiating clerk, who was a person of various avocations, was to be promoted to the extent of his wishes. The book was managed by the lady to her content, and she returned to London, secretly exulting in the excellence and success of her machination. While this was going on, however, her better fate influenced in her favour the heart of a man who was the exemplar of amiability--this was the Duke of Kingston: but, re-married as it were by her own stratagem, the participation of ducal honours became legally impossible. The chains of wedlock, which the lady had been so industrious in assuming or putting off, as seemed most suitable to her views, now became galling in the extreme. Every advice was taken, every means tried, by which her liberation might be obtained; but all the efforts which were made proved useless, and it was found to be necessary to acquiesce in that which could not be opposed successfully or pass unnoticed. The duke's passion, meanwhile, became more ardent and sincere; and, finding the apparent impossibility of a marriage taking place, he for a series of years cohabited with Miss Chudleigh, although with such external observances of decorum, that their intimacy was neither generally remarked nor known.

The disagreeable nature of these proceedings on their parts was, however, felt by both parties, and efforts were again made by means of which a marriage might be solemnised. The Earl of Bristol was sounded; and it was found that, grown weary of a union with a woman whom he now disliked, and whom he never met, he was not unwilling to accept the proposals held out; but upon his learning the design with which a divorce was sought, he declared that he would never consent to it, for that his countess's vanity should not be flattered by her being raised to the rank of a duchess. The negociations were thus for a time stopped; but afterwards, there being a lady with whom he conceived that he could make an advantageous match, he listened to the suggestions which were made to him with more complacency, and at length declared that he was ready to adopt any proceedings which should have for their effect the annihilation of the ties by which he was bound to Miss Chudleigh. The civilians were consulted, a jactitation suit was instituted; but the evidence by which the marriage could have been proved was kept back, and the Earl of Bristol failing, as it was intended he should fail, in substantiating the marriage, a decree was made, declaring the claim to be null and unsupported. Legal opinions now only remained to be taken as to the effect of this decree, and the lawyers of the Ecclesiastical Courts, highly tenacious of the rights and jurisdiction of their own judges, declared their opinion to be that the sentence could not be disturbed by the interference of any extrinsic power. In the conviction, therefore, of the most perfect safety, the marriage of the Duke of Kingston with Miss Chudleigh was publicly solemnised. The wedding favours were worn by persons of the highest distinction in the kingdom; and during the life-time of his grace, no attempt was made to dispute the legality of the proceedings. For a few years the duchess figured in the world of gaiety without apprehension or control. She was raised to the pinnacle of her fortune, and she enjoyed that which her later life had been directed to accomplish--the parade of title, but without that honour which integrity of character can alone secure. She was checked in her career of pleasure, however, by the death of her duke. The fortune which his grace possessed, it appears, was not entailed, and it was at his option, therefore, to bequeath it to the duchess or to the heirs of his family, as seemed best to his inclination. His will, excluding from every benefit an elder, and preferring a younger nephew as the heir in tail, gave rise to the prosecution of the duchess, which ended in the beggary of her prosecutor and her own exile. The demise of the Duke of Kingston was neither sudden nor unexpected. Being attacked with a paralytic affection, he lingered but a short time, which was employed by the duchess in journeying his grace from town to town, under the false idea of prolonging his life by change of air and situation. At last, when real danger seemed to threaten, even in the opinion of the duchess, she despatched one of her swiftest-footed messengers to her solicitor, Mr. Field, of the Temple, requiring his immediate attendance. He obeyed the summons, and arriving at the house, the duchess privately imparted her wishes, which were, that he would procure the duke to execute, and be himself a subscribing witness to a will, made without his knowledge, and more to the taste of the duchess than that which had been executed. The difference between these two wills was this:--the duke had bequeathed the income of his estates to his relict during her life, and expressly under condition of her continuing in a state of widowhood. Perfectly satisfied, however, as the duchess seemed with whatever was the inclination of her dearest lord, she could not resist the opportunity of carrying her secret wishes into effect. She did not relish the temple of Hymen being shut against her. Earnestly therefore, did she press Mr. Field to have her own will immediately executed, which left her at liberty to give her hand to the conqueror of her heart; and in her anxiety to have the restraint shaken off, she had nearly deprived herself of every benefit derivable from the demise of the duke. When Mr. Field was introduced to his grace, his intellects were perceptibly affected; and, although he knew the friends who approached him, a transient knowledge of their persons was the only indication of the continuance of his mental powers which he exhibited. Mr. Field very properly remonstrated against the impropriety of introducing a will for execution to a man in such a state; but this occasioned a severe reprehension from the duchess, who reminded him that his business was only to obey the instructions of his employer. Feeling for his professional character, however, he positively refused either to tender the will or to be in any manner concerned in endeavouring to procure its execution; and with this refusal he quitted the house, the duchess beholding him with an indignant eye as the annoyer of her scheme, when, in fact, by not complying with it, he was rendering her an essential service; for had the will she proposed been executed, it would most indubitably have been set aside, and the heirs would consequently have excluded the relict from everything, except that to which the right of dower entitled her; and the marriage being invalidated, the lady in this, as in other respects, would have been ruined by her own stratagem. Soon after the frustration of this attempt the Duke of Kingston expired.

No sooner were the funeral rites performed than the duchess adjusted her affairs, and embarked for the Continent, proposing Rome for her temporary residence. Ganganelli at that time filled the papal chair. From the moderation of his principles, the tolerant spirit which he on every occasion displayed, and the marked attention he bestowed on the English, he acquired the title of the Protestant Pope; and to such a character the duchess was a welcome visitor. Ganganelli treated her with the utmost civility--gave her, as a sovereign prince, many privileges--and she was lodged in the palace of one of the cardinals. Her vanity being thus gratified, her grace, in return, treated the Romans with a public spectacle. She had built an elegant pleasure-yacht; a gentleman who had served in the navy was the commander. Under her orders he sailed for Italy; and the vessel, at considerable trouble and expense, was conveyed up the Tiber. The sight of an English yacht in this river was one of so unusual a character that it attracted crowds of admirers; but while all seemed happiness and pleasure where the bark rested quietly on the waters of the river, proceedings were being concocted in London which would effectually put a stop to any momentary sensations of bliss which the duchess might entertain.

Mrs. Cradock, who, in the capacity of a domestic, had witnessed the marriage which had been solemnised between her grace and the Earl of Bristol, found herself so reduced in circumstances that she was compelled to apply to Mr. Field for assistance. The request was rejected; and, notwithstanding her assurance that she was perfectly well aware of all the circumstances attending the duchess's marriage, and that she should not hesitate to disclose all she knew in a quarter where she would be liberally paid--namely, to the disappointed relations of the Duke of Kingston--she was set at defiance. Thus refused, starvation stared her in the face; and, stung by the ingratitude of the duchess' solicitor, she immediately set about the work of ruin which she contemplated. The Duke of Kingston had borne a marked dislike to one of his nephews, Mr. Evelyn Meadows, one of the sons of his sister, Lady Frances Pierpoint. This gentleman being excluded from the presumptive heirship, joyfully received the intelligence that a method of revenging himself against the duchess was presented to him. He saw Mrs. Cradock; learned from her the particulars of the statement, which she would be able to make upon oath; and, being perfectly satisfied of its truth, he preferred a bill of indictment against the Duchess of Kingston for bigamy, which was duly returned a true bill. Notice was immediately given to Mr. Field of the proceedings, and advices were forthwith sent to the duchess to appear and plead to the indictment, to prevent a judgment of outlawry.

The duchess's immediate return to England being thus required, she set about making the necessary preparations for her journey; and as money was one of the commodities requisite to enable her to commence her homeward march, she proceeded to the house of Mr. Jenkins, the banker in Rome, in whose hands she had placed security for the advance of all such sums as she might require. The opposition of her enemies, however, had already commenced; they had adopted a line of policy exactly suited to the lady with whom they had to deal. Mr. Jenkins was out, and could not be found. She apprised him, by letter, of her intended journey, and her consequent want of money; but still he avoided seeing her. Suspecting the trick, her grace was not to be trifled with, and finding all her efforts fail, she took a pair of pistols in her pocket, and driving to Mr. Jenkins's house, once again demanded to be admitted. The customary answer, that Mr. Jenkins was out, was given; but the duchess declared that she was determined to wait until she saw him, even if it should not be until a day, month, or year, had elapsed; and she took her seat on the steps of the door, which she kept open with the muzzle of one of her pistols, apparently determined to remain there. She knew that business would compel his return, if he were not already in-doors; and at length, Mr. Jenkins, finding further opposition useless, appeared. The nature of her business was soon explained. The conversation was not of the mildest kind. Money was demanded, not asked. A little prevarication ensued; but the production of a pistol served as the most powerful mode of reasoning; and the necessary sum being instantly obtained, the duchess quitted Rome. Her journey was retarded before she reached the Alps; a violent fever seemed to seize on her vitals: but she recovered, to the astonishment of her attendants. An abscess then formed in her side, which rendering it impossible for her to endure the motion of the carriage, a kind of litter was provided, in which she slowly travelled. In this situation nature was relieved by the breaking of the abscess; and, after a painfully tedious journey, the duchess reached Calais. At that place she made a pause; and there it was that her apprehension got the better of her reason. In idea she was fettered and incarcerated in the worst cell of the worst prison in London. She was totally ignorant of the bailable nature of her offence, and therefore expected the utmost that can be imagined. Colonel West, a brother of the late Lord Delaware, whom the duchess had known in England, became her principal associate; but he was not lawyer enough to satisfy her doubts. By the means of former connexions, and through a benevolence in his own nature, the Earl of Mansfield had a private meeting with the duchess; and the venerable peer conducted himself in a manner which did honour to his heart and character.

Her spirits being soothed by the interview, the duchess embarked for Dover, landed, drove post to Kingston-house, and found friends displaying both zeal and alacrity in her cause. The first measure taken was to have the duchess bailed. This was done before Lord Mansfield; the Duke of Newcastle, Lord Mountstuart, Mr. Glover, and other characters of rank attending. The prosecution and consequent trial of the duchess becoming objects of magnitude, the public curiosity and expectation were proportionably excited. The duchess had through life distinguished herself as a most eccentric character. Her turn of mind was original, and many of her actions were without a parallel. Even when she moved in the sphere of amusement, it was in a style peculiarly her own. If others invited admiration by a partial display of their charms at a masquerade, she at once threw off the veil, and set censure at defiance. Thus, at midnight assemblies, where Bacchus revelled, and the altars of Venus were encircled by the votaries of love, the duchess, then Miss Chudleigh, appeared almost in the unadorned simplicity of primitive nature. The dilemma, therefore, into which she was thrown by the pending prosecution, was, to such a character, of the most perplexing kind.

She had already in a manner invited the disgrace, and she now neglected the means of preventing it. Mrs. Cradock, the only existing evidence against her, again personally solicited a maintenance for the remaining years of her life; and voluntarily offered, in case a stipend should be settled on her, to retire to her native village, and never more intrude. The offer was rejected by the duchess, who would only consent to allow her twenty pounds a year, on condition of her sequestering herself in some place near the Peak of Derbyshire. This the duchess considered as a most liberal offer; and she expressed her astonishment that it should be rejected.

Under the assurances of her lawyers, the duchess was as quiet as that troublesome monitor, her own heart, would permit her to be; and reconciled in some measure to the encounter with which she was about to meet, her repose was most painfully disturbed by an adversary, who appeared in a new and most unexpected quarter. This was the celebrated Foote, the actor, who, having mixed in the first circles of fashion, was perfectly acquainted with the leading transactions of the duchess's life, and had resolved to turn his knowledge to his own advantage. As, in the opinion of Mandeville, private vices are public benefits, so Foote deemed the crimes and vices of individuals lawful game for his wit. On this principle he proceeded with the Duchess of Kingston; and he wrote a piece, founded on her life, called "The Trip to Calais." The scenes were humorous; the character of the duchess admirably drawn; and the effect of the performance of the farce on the stage would have been that which was most congenial to the tastes of the scandal-mongers of the day--namely, to make the duchess ashamed of herself. The real object of Mr. Foote, however, was one of a nature more likely to prove advantageous to himself--it was to obtain money to secure the suppression of the piece; and with this view he contrived to have it communicated to her grace that the Haymarket Theatre would open with an entertainment in which she was taken off to the life. Alarmed at this, she sent for Foote, who attended with the piece in his pocket; but having been desired to read it, he had not gone far before the character of Lady Kitty Crocodile being introduced, the duchess could no longer control her anger, and rising in a violent rage, she exclaimed, "Why, this is scandalous; what a wretch you have made me." Mr. Foote assured her that the character was not intended to "caricature her;"--even in his serious moments being unable to control his desire to pun--for he left her to infer that it was a true picture; and the duchess, having taken a few turns about the room, became more composed, and requested that the piece might be left for her perusal, engaging that it should be returned by the ensuing evening. The actor readily complied, and retired; but the lady being left to consider her own portrait, was so displeased with the likeness, that she determined, if possible, to prevent its exposure on the stage. The artist had no objection to sell his work, and she was inclined to become the purchaser; but on the former being questioned as to the sum which he should expect for suppressing the piece, he proportioned his expectations to what he deemed the duchess's power of gratifying them, and demanded two thousand guineas, besides a sum to be paid as compensation for the loss of the scenes, which had been painted for the farce, and which were not applicable to any other purpose. The magnitude of the demand, as well it might, staggered the duchess; and having intimated her extreme astonishment at so exorbitant a proposition, she expressed a wish that the sum might be fixed at one within the bounds of moderation and reason. The actor was positive; concluding, that as his was the only article in the market, he might name his own price: but the result was, that by demanding too much, he lost all. A cheque for fourteen hundred pounds was offered; the amount was increased to sixteen hundred pounds, and a draft on Messrs. Drummond's was actually signed; but the obstinacy of the actor was so great, that he refused to abate one guinea from his original demand. The circumstance might at any other time have passed among the indifferent events of the day, and as wholly undeserving of the public notice; but those long connected with the duchess, and in habits of intimacy, felt the attack made on her as directed by a ruffian hand, at a moment when she was least able to make resistance. His grace the Duke of Newcastle was consulted. The chamberlain of the household (the Earl of Hertford) was apprised of the circumstance; and his prohibitory interference was earnestly solicited. He sent for the manuscript copy of "The Trip to Calais." perused, and censured it.

But besides these and other powerful aids, the duchess called in professional advice. The sages of the robe were consulted, and their opinions were that the piece was a malicious libel; and that, should it be represented, a short-hand writer ought to be employed to attend on the night of representation, to minute each offensive passage, as the groundwork of a prosecution. This advice was followed, and Foote was intimidated. He denied having made a demand of two thousand guineas; but the Rev. Mr. Foster contradicted him in an affidavit. Thus defeated in point of fact, Foote found himself baffled also in point of design. The chamberlain would not permit the piece to be represented.

Foote now had recourse to another expedient:--He caused it to be intimated "that it was in his power to publish if not to perform; but were his expenses reimbursed (and the sum which her grace had formerly offered would do the business), he would desist." This being communicated to the duchess, she in this, as in too many cases, asked the opinion of her friends, with a secret determination to follow her own. Foote, finding that she began to yield, pressed his desire incessantly; and she had actually provided bills to the amount of one thousand six hundred pounds, which she would have given him but for the Rev. Mr. Jackson, who, being asked his opinion of the demand, returned this answer: "Instead of complying with it, your grace should obtain complete evidence of the menace and demand, and then consult your counsel whether a prosecution will not lie for endeavouring to extort money by threats. Your grace must remember the attack on the first Duke of Marlborough by a stranger, who had formed a design either on his purse or his interest, and endeavoured to menace him into a compliance." This answer struck the Earl of Peterborough and Mr. Foster very forcibly, as in perfect coincidence with their own opinions; and Mr. Jackson was then solicited to wait on Mr. Foote; Mr. Foster, the chaplain of the duchess, professing himself to be too far advanced in years to enter into the field of literary combat. Mr. Jackson consented to be the champion on the following condition--that the duchess would give her honour never to retract her determination, nor to let Foote extort from her a single guinea. Her grace subscribing to this condition, Mr. Jackson waited on Mr. Foote at his house in Suffolk-street, and intimated to him the resolution to which the duchess had come. The actor, however, still wished to have matters compromised; and to this end he addressed a letter to the duchess, which began with stating "that a member of the privy council and a friend of her grace (by whom he meant the Duke of Newcastle) had conversed with him on the subject of the dispute between them; and that, for himself, he was ready to have everything adjusted." This letter afforded the duchess a triumph. Every line contained a concession; and, contrary to the advice of her friends, she insisted upon the publication of the whole correspondence.

This circumstance for a time served to turn the current of attention into a new channel. But while the public notice was withdrawn from her grace, she felt too heavily the necessity which existed to adopt some course to enable her either to evade or meet the impending danger. Her line of procedure was soon determined upon--she affected an earnest desire to have the trial, if possible, accelerated, while in secret she took every means in her power to evade the measures which her opponents had taken against her. Her conduct in other respects appears to have been strangely inconsistent. An opportunity presented itself which remained only to be embraced to secure her object. It became the subject of a discussion in the House of Lords whether the trial of her grace should not be conducted in Westminster Hall; and the expense which would necessarily be incurred by the country was by many urged as being a burden which ought not to rest upon the public purse. Lord Mansfield, privately desiring to save the duchess from the disgrace and ignominy of a public trial, strove to avail himself of this objection in her favour; and so great had become the differences of opinion entertained upon the subject, that the withdrawal of the prosecution altogether would have been a matter which would have been considered desirable rather than improper. Here then was the critical moment at which the duchess might have determined her future fate. A hint was privately conveyed to her that the sum of ten thousand pounds would satisfy every expectation, and put an end to the prosecution; and doubts being expressed of the sincerity of the proposal, the offer was made in distinct terms. The duchess was entreated by her friends to accept the proposition which was made, and so at once to relieve herself and them from all fear of the consequences which might result to her; but through a fatal mistaken confidence either in the legal construction of her case, or in her own machinations, she refused to accede to the offers which were held out. Resting assured of her acquittal, she resisted every attempt at dissuasion from her purpose of going to trial; and she assumed an air of indifference about the business which but ill accorded with the doubtful nature of her position. She talked of the absolute necessity of setting out for Rome; affected to have some material business to settle with the Pope; and, in consequence, took every means and urged every argument in her power to procure the speedy termination of the proceedings--as if the regular course of justice had not been swift enough to overtake her. In the midst of her confidence, however, she did not abandon her manoeuvring; but at the very moment when she was petitioning for a speedy trial, she was engaged in a scheme to get rid of the principal witness against her. Mrs. Cradock, to whom before she had refused a trifling remuneration, might now have demanded thousands as the price of her evidence. A negotiation was carried on through the medium of a relation of hers, who was a letter-carrier, which had for its object her removal from England; and an interview was arranged to take place between her and the duchess, at which the latter was to appear disguised, and was to reveal herself only after some conversation, the object of which was that terms might be proposed; but her grace was duped: for having changed her clothes to those of a man, she waited at the appointed hour and place without seeing either Mrs. Cradock or the person who had promised to effect the meeting; and she afterwards learned that every particular of this business had been communicated to the prosecutors, who instructed the letter-carrier to pretend an acquiescence in the scheme.

Thus baffled in a project which had a plausible appearance of success, the only method left was the best possible arrangement of matters preparatory to the trial. On the 15th day of April, 1766, the business came on in Westminster-hall, when the queen was present, accompanied by the prince of Wales, princess royal, and others of the royal family. Many foreign ambassadors also attended, as well as several of the nobility. These having taken their seats, the duchess came forward, attended by Mrs. Edgerton, Mrs. Barrington, and Miss Chudleigh, three of the ladies of her bedchamber, and her chaplain, physician, and apothecary; and as she approached the bar she made three reverences, and then dropped on her knees, when the lord high steward said, "Madam, you may rise." Having risen, she courtesied to the lord high steward and the house of peers, and her compliments were returned.

Proclamation being made for silence, the lord high steward mentioned to the prisoner the fatal consequences attending the crime of which she stood indicted, signifying that, however alarming and awful her present circumstances, she might derive great consolation from considering that she was to be tried by the most liberal, candid, and august assembly in the universe.

The duchess then read a paper, setting forth that she was guiltless of the offence alleged against her, and that the agitation of her mind arose, not from the consciousness of guilt, but from the painful circumstance of being called before so awful a tribunal on a criminal accusation. She begged, therefore, that if she was deficient in the observance of any ceremonial points, her failure might not be understood as proceeding from wilful disrespect, but should be attributed to the unfortunate peculiarity of her situation. It was added, that she had travelled from Rome in so dangerous a state of health that it was necessary for her to be conveyed in a litter; and that she was perfectly satisfied that she should have a fair trial, since the determination respecting her cause, on which materially depended her honour and fortune, would proceed from the most unprejudiced and august assembly in the world.

The lord high steward then desired the lady to give attention while she was arraigned on an indictment for bigamy; and proclamation for silence having been again made, the duchess (who had been permitted to sit) arose, and read a paper, representing to the Court that she was advised by her counsel to plead the sentence of the Ecclesiastical Court in the year 1769 as a bar to her being tried on the present indictment. The lord high steward informed her that, she must plead to the indictment; in consequence of which she was arraigned; and being asked by the clerk of the crown whether she was guilty of the felony with which she stood charged, she answered, with great firmness, "Not guilty, my lords." The clerk of the crown then asking her how she would be tried, she said, "By God and my peers;" on which the clerk said, "God send your ladyship a good deliverance."

Four days were occupied in arguments of counsel respecting the admission or rejection of a sentence of the Spiritual Court; but the peers having decided that it could not be admitted, the trial proceeded. The first witness examined was

Anne Cradock, whose testimony was as follows:--I have known her grace the Duchess of Kingston ever since the year 1742, at which time she came on a visit to the house of Mr. Merrill, at Lainston, in Hampshire, during the Winchester races. At that time I lived in the service of Mrs. Hanmer, Miss Chudleigh's aunt, who was then on a visit at Mr. Merrill's, where Mr. Hervey and Miss Chudleigh first met, and soon conceived a mutual attachment for each other. They were privately married one evening at about eleven o'clock in Lainston church, in the presence of Mr. Mountney, Mrs. Hanmer, the Rev. Mr. Ames, the rector, who performed the ceremony, and myself. I was ordered out of the church to entice Mr. Merrill's servants out of the way. I saw the bride and bridegroom put to bed together, and Mrs. Hanmer obliged them to rise again; they went to bed together the following night. In a few days Mr. Hervey was under the necessity of going to Portsmouth in order to join Sir John Danvers's fleet, in which he was then a lieutenant; and being ordered to call him at five o'clock in the morning, I went into the bedchamber at the appointed hour, and found him and his lady sleeping in bed together. I was unwilling to disturb them, as I thought that the delay of an hour or two would make no difference, but they afterwards parted. My husband, to whom I was not then married, accompanied Mr. Hervey in the capacity of servant. When Mr. Hervey returned from the Mediterranean, he and his lady lived together, and I then thought that she was pregnant. Some months after, Mr. Hervey went again to sea, and during his absence I was informed that the lady was brought to bed; and I was afterwards confirmed in the information by the lady herself, who said that she had a little boy at nurse, whose features greatly resembled those of Mr. Hervey.

In answer to questions put by the Duke of Grafton, the witness said that she had never seen the child; that it was dark when the marriage took place in the church, and that Mr. Mountney carried a wax light attached to the crown of his hat. Upon being asked by the Earl of Hilsborough whether she had not received a letter containing some offer to induce her to appear now as a witness, she admitted that Mr. Fossard of Piccadilly had written to her, offering her a sinecure place on condition of her coming forward to give evidence against her grace, and stating that she might, if she pleased, exhibit the letter to the Earl of Bristol. The cross-examination of the witness on this point was continued during the remainder of the sitting of their lordships; and on the following day (the 20th of April) it was resumed, the Earls of Derby, Hilsborough, and Buckinghamshire questioning her with considerable acumen. She at length confessed that pecuniary offers had been made to her to induce her to appear, and that she had acceded to the terms proposed.

Mrs. Sophia Pettiplace was examined as to the facts deposed to by Mrs. Cradock; but she was able to afford no positive information upon the subject. She lived with her grace at the time of the supposed marriage, but was not present at the ceremony, and only believed that the duchess had mentioned the circumstance to her.

Cæsar Hawkins, Esq. deposed that he had been acquainted with the duchess several years, he believed not less than thirty. He had heard of a marriage between Mr. Hervey and the lady at the bar, which circumstance was afterwards mentioned to him by both parties, previous to Mr. Hervey's last going to sea. By the desire of her grace, he was in the room when the issue of the marriage was born, and once saw the child. He was sent for by Mr. Hervey soon after his return from sea, and desired by him to wait upon the lady, with proposals for procuring a divorce, which he accordingly did; when her grace declared herself absolutely determined against listening to such terms; and he knew that many messages passed on the subject. Her grace some time after informed him, at his own house, that she had instituted a jactitation suit against Mr. Hervey in Doctors' Commons. On another visit she appeared very grave, and desiring him to retire into another apartment, said she was exceedingly unhappy, in consequence of an oath, which she had long dreaded, having been tendered to her at Doctors' Commons to disavow her marriage, which she would not do for ten thousand worlds. Upon another visit, a short time after, she informed him that a sentence had passed in her favour at Doctors' Commons, which would be irrevocable unless Mr. Hervey pursued certain measures within a limited time, which she did not apprehend he would do. Hereupon he inquired how she got over the oath; and her reply was, that the circumstance of her marriage was so blended with falsities, that she could easily reconcile the matter to her conscience; since the ceremony was a business of so scrambling and shabby a nature, that she could as safely swear she was not as that she was married.

Judith Philips, being called, swore that she was the widow of the Rev. Mr. Ames; that she remembered when her late husband performed the marriage ceremony between Mr. Hervey and the prisoner; that she was not present, but derived her information from her husband; that some time after the marriage the lady desired her to prevail upon her husband to grant a certificate, which she said she believed her husband would not refuse; that Mr. Merrill, who accompanied the lady, advised her to consult his attorney from Worcester; that in compliance with the attorney's advice, a register-book was purchased, and the marriage inserted therein, with some late burials in the parish. The book was here produced, and the witness swore to the writing of her late husband.

The writing of the Rev. Mr. Ames was also proved by the Rev. Mr. Inchin and the Rev. Mr. Dennis; and the entry of a caveat to the duke's will was proved by a clerk from Doctors' Commons. The book in which the marriage of the Duke of Kingston with the lady at the bar was registered on the 8th of March, 1769, was produced by the Rev. Mr. Trebeck, of St. Margaret's, Westminster; and the Rev. Mr. Samuel Harpur, of the British Museum, swore that he performed the marriage ceremony between the parties on the day mentioned in the books produced by Mr. Trebeck.

Monday, the 22nd of April, after the attorney-general had declared the evidence on behalf of the prosecution to be concluded, the lord high steward called upon the prisoner for her defence, which she read; and the following are the most material arguments it contained to invalidate the evidence adduced for the prosecutor:--She appealed to the Searcher of all hearts, that she never considered herself as legally married to Mr. Hervey; she said that she considered herself as a single woman, and as such was addressed by the late Duke of Kingston; and that, influenced by a legitimate attachment to his grace, she instituted a suit in the Ecclesiastical Court, when her supposed marriage with Mr. Hervey was declared null and void; but, anxious for every conscientious as well as legal sanction, she submitted an authentic statement of her case to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who, in the most decisive and unreserved manner, declared that she was at liberty to marry, and afterwards granted, and delivered to Dr. Collier, a special licence for her marriage with the late Duke of Kingston. She said that on her marriage she experienced every mark of gracious esteem from their majesties, and her late royal mistress, the Princess Dowager of Wales, and was publicly recognized as Duchess of Kingston. Under such respectable sanctions and virtuous motives for the conduct she pursued, strengthened by a decision that had been esteemed conclusive and irrevocable for the space of seven centuries, if their lordships should deem her guilty on any rigid principle of law, she hoped, nay, she was conscious, they would attribute her failure as proceeding from a mistaken judgment and erroneous advice, and would not censure her for intentional guilt. She bestowed the highest encomiums on the deceased duke, and solemnly assured the Court that she had in no one instance abused her ascendency over him; and that so far from endeavouring to engross his possessions, she had declared herself amply provided for by that fortune for life which he was extremely anxious to bequeath to her in perpetuity. As to the neglect of the duke's eldest nephew, she said it was entirely the consequence of his disrespectful behaviour to her; and she was not dissatisfied at a preference to another nephew, whose respect and attention to her had been such as the duke judged to be her due on her advancement to the honour of being the wife of his grace.

The lord high steward then desired Mr. Wallace to proceed with the evidence on behalf of the duchess. The advocate stated the nature of the evidence he meant to produce to prove that Anne Cradock had asserted to different people that she had no recollection of the marriage between Mr. Hervey and the lady at the bar; and that she placed a reliance on a promise of having a provision made for her in consequence of the evidence she was to give on the present trial: and to invalidate the depositions of Judith Philips, he ordered the clerk to read a letter, wherein she supplicated her grace to exert her influence to prevent her husband's discharge from the duke's service; and observed, that Mrs. Philips had, on the preceding day, sworn that her husband was not dismissed, but voluntarily quitted his station in the household of his grace.

Mr. Wallace called Mr. Berkley, Lord Bristol's attorney, who said his lordship told him he was desirous of obtaining a divorce, and directed him to Anne Cradock, saying she was the only person then living who was present at his marriage; and that a short time previous to the commencement of the jactitation suit, he waited upon Anne Cradock, who informed him that her memory was bad, and that she could remember nothing perfectly in relation to the marriage, which must have been a long time before.

Anne Pritchard deposed, that about three months before she had been informed by Mrs. Cradock that she expected to be provided for soon after the trial, and that she expected to be enabled to procure a place in the Custom-house for one of her relations.

This being the whole of the evidence to be produced on behalf of her grace, the lord high steward addressed their lordships, saying, that the evidence on both sides having been heard, it now became their lordships' duty to proceed to the consideration of the case; that the importance and solemnity of the occasion required that they should severally pronounce their opinions in the absence of the prisoner at the bar, and that it was for the junior baron to speak first.

The prisoner having then been removed, their lordships declared that they found her guilty of the offence imputed to her.

Proclamation was then made that the usher of the black rod should replace the prisoner at the bar; and immediately on her appearing, the lord high steward informed her that the lords had maturely considered the evidence adduced against her, as well as the testimony of the witnesses who had been called on her behalf, and that they had pronounced her guilty of the felony for which she was indicted. He then inquired whether she had anything to say why judgment should not be pronounced against her?

The duchess immediately handed in a paper containing the words, "I plead the privilege of the peerage," which were read by the clerk at the table.

The lord high steward then informed her grace that the lords had considered the plea, and agreed to allow it, adding, "Madam, you will be discharged on paying the usual fees."

The duchess during the trial appeared to be perfectly collected, but on sentence being pronounced she fainted, and was carried out of court.

This solemnity was concluded on the 22nd of April, 1776; but the prosecutors still had a plan in embryo to confine the person of the Countess of Bristol, for to this rank she was now again reduced, to the kingdom, and to deprive her of her personal property; and a writ of ne exeat regno was actually in the course of preparation: but private notice being conveyed to her of this circumstance, she was advised immediately to quit the country. In order to conceal her flight, she caused her carriage to be driven publicly through the streets, and invited a large party to dine at her house; but, without waiting to apologise to her guests, she drove to Dover in a post-chaise, and there entering a boat with Mr. Harvey, the captain of her yacht, she accompanied him to Calais. Circumstances of which she had been advised, and which had occurred during the period of her absence from Rome, rendered her immediate presence in that city necessary, and proceeding thither, without loss of time, she found that a Spanish friar, whom she had left in charge of her palace and furniture, had found means to convert her property into money, and after having seduced a young English girl, who had also been left in the palace, had absconded. Having now obtained the whole of her plate from the public bank where she had deposited it, she returned to Calais, which she adopted as the best place at which she could fix her residence, in consequence of the expeditious communication which existed between that town and London, by means of which she might be afforded the earliest intelligence of the proceedings of her opponents. Their business was now to set aside, if possible, the will of the Duke of Kingston. There was no probability of the success of the attempt, but there was sufficient doubt upon the subject in the mind of the countess to keep all her apprehensions alive.

The will of his grace of Kingston, however, received every confirmation which the courts of justice could give, and the object of the countess now was to dissipate rather than expend the income of his estates. A house which she had purchased at Calais was not sufficient for her purpose; a mansion at Mont Martre, near Paris, was fixed on, and the purchase of it was negotiated in as short a time as the duchess could desire. There were only a few obstacles to enjoyment which were not considered until the purchase was completed. The house was in so ruinous a condition as to be in momentary danger of falling. The land was more like the field of the slothful than the vineyard of the industrious; and these evils were not perceived by the countess till she was in possession of her wishes. A lawsuit with the owner of the estate was the consequence, and the countess went to St. Petersburgh, and there turned brandy distiller, and returned to Paris before it was concluded. The possession of such a place, however, was not sufficient for the countess, and she proceeded to make a second purchase of a house, built upon a scale of infinite grandeur. The brother of the existing French king was the owner of a domain, suited in every respect for the residence of a person of such nobility, and the countess determined to become its mistress. It was called the territory of St. Assise, and was situated at a pleasant distance from Paris, abounding in game of all descriptions, and rich in all the luxuriant embellishments of nature. The mansion was of a size which rendered it fit for the occupation of a king; it contained three hundred beds. The value of such an estate was too considerable to be expected in one payment: she therefore agreed to discharge the whole of the sum demanded, which was fifty-five thousand pounds, by instalments. The purchase on the part of the countess was a good one. It afforded not only game, but rabbits in plenty; and finding them of superior quality and flavour, her ladyship, during the first week of her possession, had as many killed and sold as brought her three hundred guineas. At St. Petersburgh she had been a distiller of brandy; and now at Paris she turned rabbit-merchant.

Such was her situation, when one day, while she was at dinner, her servants received the intelligence that judgment respecting the house near Paris had been awarded against her. The sudden communication of the news produced an agitation of her whole frame. She flew into a violent passion, and burst an internal blood-vessel: but she appeared to have surmounted even this, until a few days afterwards, when preparing to rise from her bed, a servant who had long been with her endeavoured to dissuade her from her purpose. The countess said, "I am not very well, but I will rise;" and on a remonstrance being attempted, she said, "At your peril disobey me: I will get up and walk about the room; ring for the secretary to assist me." She was obeyed, dressed, and the secretary entered the chamber. The countess then walked about, complained of thirst, and said, "I could drink a glass of my fine Madeira, and eat a slice of toasted bread. I shall be quite well afterwards; but let it be a large glass of wine." The attendant reluctantly brought, and the countess drank the wine. She then said, "I am perfectly recovered; I knew the Madeira would do me good. My heart feels oddly. I will have another glass." The servant here observed that such a quantity of wine in the morning might intoxicate rather than benefit. The countess persisted in her orders, and the second glass of Madeira being produced, she drank that also, and pronounced herself to be charmingly indeed. She then walked a little about the room, and afterwards said, "I will lie down on the couch; I can sleep, and after that I shall be entirely recovered." She seated herself on the couch, a female having hold of each hand. In this situation she soon appeared to have fallen into a sound sleep, until the women felt her hands colder than ordinary, and she was found to have expired. She died August 26th, 1796.

PETER LE MAITRE.

CONVICTED OF ROBBING THE ASHMOLEAN MUSEUM AT OXFORD.

When Lord Thurlow was chancellor of England some villains broke into his house, in Great Ormond-street, and stole the great seal of England, which was never recovered, nor were the thieves known. We have heard also of a valuable diamond being stolen from the late Duke of Cumberland, when pressing into the theatre in the Haymarket to see the bubble of the bottle conjurer. It is also a fact that the Duke of Beaufort was robbed of his diamond order of St. George as he went to Court on a royal birthday; but we have yet to tell that a museum was robbed of its curious medals.

Peter Le Maitre, the thief, was a French teacher at Oxford, and being supposed to be a man of industry and good morals, he was indulged with free admission to the Ashmolean Museum. Thither he frequently went, and appeared very studious over the rare books, and other valuable articles there deposited. He was frequently left alone to his researches. At one of such times he stole two medals, and at another he secreted himself until the doors were locked for the night. When all had retired he came from his lurking-place, and broke open the cabinet where the medals were locked up, and possessed himself of its contents; he then wrenched a bar from the window, and, unsuspected, made his escape.

The college was thrown into the utmost consternation on finding their Museum thus plundered. Some were suspected, but least of all Le Maitre, until it was discovered that he had privately left the city in a post-chaise and four, and that he had pledged two of the stolen medals to pay the post-boys. This left little doubt that he was the ungrateful thief. He was advertised and described, and by this means apprehended in Ireland.

He was conveyed back to Oxford, in order to take his trial; and it appeared that two of the stolen medals were found in a bureau in his lodgings, of which he had the use; and two more were traced to the persons to whom he had sold them.

He had little to offer in extenuation of his crime, and on the clearest evidence he was found guilty on the 7th March, 1777; and he paid the penalty of his offence by enduring five years' hard labour at ballast-heaving on the river Thames.

Whether the ungrateful depredation of Le Maitre stimulated others to the commission of similar crimes we know not, but it is certain that soon afterwards Magdalen College Chapel, Oxford, was broken open by two thieves, who stole from the altar a pair of large silver candlesticks and a silver dish, with which they escaped undetected.

DAVID BROWN DIGNUM.

CONVICTED OF PRETENDING TO SELL PLACES UNDER GOVERNMENT.

The case of this offender may be well looked upon as a warning to many of those whose advertisements are daily seen in the newspapers of the present day, offering a premium to any person who will find a situation for the advertiser. Many persons have recently been duped in their search after employment, by fellows who have obtained their money by means of false pretences; but few have gone the length to pretend to put the advertiser in possession of the place which he sought.

Dignum was indicted on the 5th of April, 1777, at the Guildhall, Westminster, for defrauding Mr. John Clarke of the sum of one hundred pounds two shillings and tenpence, which he had obtained from him under pretence of investing him with the office of clerk of the minutes in his majesty's custom-house in Dublin. The evidence in the case was very simple. The negotiation was commenced between Mr. Clarke and the prisoner at an early period in the year; and the money having been paid over, the prisoner handed to the prosecutor a stamped paper or warrant, bearing the signature of Lord Weymouth, and countersigned by "Thomas Daw," which he told him would enable him to assume the office which it mentioned. Upon his proceeding to do so, however, he was found to have been hoaxed; and upon inquiry, he discovered that the signatures were forged, and that the seals attached to the warrant had been taken from some other instrument. The jury immediately found the prisoner guilty; but the magistrates hesitated a long time on the punishment which should be inflicted on such an offender, and at length sentenced him to work five years on the river Thames.

The prisoner, while in Tothill-fields Bridewell, tried every means in his power to effect his escape, and offered to bribe an attendant in the prison with a bank-note of ten pounds, to favour his escape in a large chest. Upon his conviction, no time was now lost in conveying him on board the ballast-lighter. Being possessed of plenty of money, and having high notions of gentility, he went to Woolwich in a post-chaise, with his negro servant behind, expecting that his money would procure every indulgence in his favour, and that his servant would be still admitted to attend him: but in this he was egregiously mistaken. The keepers of the lighter would not permit him to come on board, and Dignum was immediately put to the duty of the wheelbarrow.

On Monday, the 5th of May, Dignum sent a forged draft for five hundred pounds for acceptance to Mr. Drummond, banker, at Charing-cross, who, discovering the imposition, carried the publishers before Sir John Fielding: but they were discharged; and it was intended to procure an habeas corpus to remove Dignum to London for examination.

This plan, however, was soon seen through; for, on consideration, it seemed evident that Dignum, by sending the forged draft from on board the lighter, preferred the chance of escape, even though death presented itself on the other side, to his situation; so that no further steps were taken in the affair, and he remained at work for the period to which he was sentenced by the laws of his country.

JAMES HILL, alias HIND, alias ATKINS, alias JOHN THE PAINTER.

EXECUTED FOR FIRING PORTSMOUTH DOCK-YARD.

A more dangerous character than this has rarely existed. His offence was of a nature aimed at the very safety of the kingdom, and, if successful, and followed up by the operations of his more powerful friends, for whose benefit it eventually appeared that he had committed the foul crime of which he was guilty, the most disastrous consequences might have ensued.

Hill, it appears, was a Scotchman by birth, and was by trade a painter; from which circumstance he obtained the name by which he is generally known, of "John the Painter." Having gone to America at an early age, during a residence there of some years, he imbibed principles opposed to the interests of his own country. Transported with party zeal, he formed the desperate resolution of committing a most atrocious crime against the welfare of England--namely, the burning of the dock-yards at Portsmouth and Plymouth. At about four o'clock in the afternoon of the 7th of December, 1776, a fire broke out in the round-house of Portsmouth dock, by which the whole of that building was consumed, and from whose ravages the rest of the surrounding warehouses were with difficulty saved. The fire was at first attributed to accident; but on the 5th of January following, three men, who were engaged in the hemp-house, discovered a tin machine, somewhat resembling a tea-canister, and near the same spot a wooden box, containing various kinds of combustibles. This circumstance being communicated to the commissioner of the dock, and circulated among the public, several vague and indefinite suspicions fell upon Hill, who had been lurking about the dock-yard, where he was distinguished by the appellation of "John the Painter."

In consequence of advertisements in the newspapers, offering a reward of fifty pounds for apprehending him, he was secured at Odiham, and on the 17th of February the prisoner was examined at Sir John Fielding's office, Bow-street, where John Baldwin, who exercised the trade of a painter in different parts of America, attended, by the direction of Lord Temple. The prisoner's conversations with Baldwin operated very materially to secure his conviction.

He had said he had taken a view of most of the dock-yards and fortifications about England, the number of ships in the navy, and had observed their weight of metal and their number of men, and had been to France two or three times to inform Silas Deane, the American envoy, of his discoveries; that Deane gave him bills to the amount of three hundred pounds, and letters of recommendation to a merchant in the city, which he had burned, lest they should lead to a discovery. He informed Baldwin further, that he had instructed a tinman's apprentice at Canterbury to make him a tin canister, which he carried to Portsmouth, where he hired a lodging at one Mrs. Boxall's, and tried his preparations for setting fire to the dock-yard. After recounting the manner of preparing matches and combustibles, he said that, on the 6th of the preceding December, he got into the hemp-house, and having placed a candle in a wooden box, and a tin canister over it, and sprinkled turpentine over some of the hemp, he proceeded to the rope-house, where he placed a bottle of turpentine among the loose hemp, which he sprinkled also with turpentine; and having laid matches, made of paper daubed over with powdered charcoal and gun powder diluted with water, and other combustibles, about the place, he returned to his lodgings. These matches were so contrived as to continue burning for twenty-four hours, so that by cutting them into proper lengths he might provide for his escape, knowing the precise time when the fire would reach the combustibles. He had hired lodgings in two other houses to which he also intended to set fire, that the engines might not be all employed together in quenching the conflagration at the dock. On the 7th he again went to the hemp-house, intending to set it on fire; but he was unable to effect his object, owing to a halfpenny-worth of common house matches that he had bought not being sufficiently dry. This disappointment, he said, rendered him exceedingly uneasy, and he went from the hemp-house to the rope-house, and set fire to the matches he had placed there. His uneasiness was increased because he could not return to his lodging, where he had left a bundle containing an "Ovid's Metamorphoses," a "Treatise on War and making Fireworks," a "Justin," a pistol, and a French passport, in which his real name was inserted; and also because he could not fire them too, in accordance with his original plan.

When he had set fire to the rope-house he proceeded towards London, deeply regretting his failure in attempting to fire the other building, and was strongly inclined to discharge a pistol into the windows of the women who had sold him the bad matches. He jumped into a cart, and gave the woman who drove it sixpence to induce her to drive quick; and when he had passed the sentinels, he observed that the fire had made so rapid a progress that the elements seemed in a blaze. At about ten o'clock the next morning he arrived at Kingston, and having remained there until dusk, at that time he proceeded on towards London in the stage. Soon after his arrival, he went to the house of the gentleman on whom the bills had been drawn, but having related his story, he was received with distrust, and therefore went away. On his reaching Hammersmith he wrote back to the merchant, saying that he was going to Bristol; and he added, that "the handy works he meant to perform there would soon be known to the public." Soon after his arrival in Bristol, he set fire to several houses, which were all burning at one time and the flames were not extinguished until damage to the amount of 15,000_l._ had been caused. He also set fire to some combustibles which he had placed among the oil-barrels on the quay; but in this instance without the effect which he desired.

His trial commenced on the 6th of March, 1777, at Winchester Castle, when witnesses were produced from different parts of the country, who proved the whole of his confession to Baldwin to be true, and gave other evidence of his guilt.

When called upon for his defence, he complained of the reports circulated to his prejudice; and observed, that it was easy for such a man as Baldwin to feign the story he had told, and for a number of witnesses to be collected to give it support. He declared that God alone knew whether he was, or was not, the person who set fire to the dock-yard; and begged it might be attended to how far Baldwin ought to be credited: that if he had art enough, by lies, to insinuate anything out of him, his giving it to the knowledge of others was a breach of confidence; and if he would speak falsely to deceive him, he might also impose upon a jury.

The learned judge having delivered his charge to the jury, after a moment's consideration, they returned a verdict of Guilty. The sentence of death was immediately passed upon the prisoner, and he was ordered for execution on the 10th of March following, when he was hanged within sight of the ruins which he had occasioned.

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

To these particulars we shall add his confession. On the morning after his condemnation he informed the turnkey, of his own accord, that he felt an earnest desire to confess his crime, and to lay the history of his life before the public; and that by discovering the whole of his unaccountable plots and treasonable practices, he might make some atonement to his injured country for the wrongs he had done it, of which he was now truly sensible.

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

He said that the diabolical scheme of setting fire to the dock-yards and the shipping originated in his own wicked mind, on the very breaking out of the rebellion in America; and he had no peace until he proceeded to put it in practice. The more he thought of it, the more practicable it appeared; and with this wicked intent he crossed the Atlantic. He had no sooner landed than he proceeded to take surveys of the different dock-yards; and he then went to Paris, and had several conferences with Silas Deane, the rebel minister to the court of France. Deane was astonished at Hill's proposals, which embraced the destruction of the English dock-yards and the shipping; but finding the projector an enthusiast in the cause of America, and a man of daring spirit, he gradually listened to his schemes, and supplied him with money to enable him to carry them into execution, procured him a French passport, and gave him a letter of credit on a merchant in London. He then confirmed the evidence given against him, and in particular that of the witness Baldwin; and he added, that had he been successful in his attempt upon Portsmouth and Plymouth dock-yards, he should have been rewarded with a commission in the American navy.

FRANCIS MERCIER, alias LOUIS DE BUTTE.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

The case of this criminal was attended by circumstances of very great atrocity. The malefactor and his unfortunate victim were natives of France.

The unfortunate Jacques Mondroyte was a jeweller and watchmaker of Paris, and had made a journey to London, in order to find a market for different articles of his manufacture. His stock consisted of curious and costly trinkets, worth, as was computed, a few thousand pounds. He took lodgings in Prince's-street, and engaged Mercier, who had resided some time in London, as his interpreter, on a liberal gratuity, and treated him as a friend.

It appeared that the ungrateful villain had long determined upon murdering his employer, in order to possess himself of the whole of his valuable property. To this diabolical end, he gave orders for an instrument to be made of a singular construction, which was a principal means of leading to his discovery as the murderer. It was shaped somewhat like an Indian tomahawk; and this instrument of death he concealed until an opportunity offered to effect his detestable purpose.

One day, his employer, Monsieur Mondroyte, invited him to spend the evening: they played at cards, sang some French songs, and took a cheerful glass, but with that moderation peculiarly observable among Frenchmen; and a late hour having arrived, the kind heart of the host forbade his dismissing his friend without offering him a bed for the night. The offer was accepted after some hesitation, and both parties retired to rest. As soon as the neighbours were wrapped in sleep, Mercier took from the lining of his coat, where it had remained constantly concealed, the fatal weapon which had been prepared, and with it he struck his victim repeated blows on the head until he killed him. He then thrust the body into one of the trunks in which the owner had brought over his merchandise, and having ransacked and plundered the apartments, he locked the doors and made his escape.

On the next day he had the hardihood to return to the house, and to inquire whether Monsieur Mondroyte had set off, pretending that he had proposed a journey into the country; and the people of the house concluding that he had let himself out before they had risen, and that this accounted for their finding the street door on the latch, replied that he must have departed, giving that circumstance as a reason for such belief. This audacious farce was acted by the murderer for some days, during which time he frequently called to know whether his friend had returned. The family, however, beginning to entertain suspicions of some foul play, procured a ladder, entered the chamber window of their unfortunate lodger, and soon discovered the body crammed into the trunk, which was only two feet four inches long, already beginning to putrefy. There appeared on the head several deep wounds.

A warrant was thereupon granted to apprehend Mercier, who was taken just as he was alighting from a post-chaise, in which he had been jaunting with a woman of the town. In his lodgings, and on his person, were found sixteen gold watches, some of great value; a great number of brilliant diamond and other rings; a variety of gold trinkets; and seventy-five guineas.

On his examination he confessed his guilt, which, added to the proof that the manufactured articles had been the property of Mondroyte, secured his conviction. He was subsequently tried at the Old Bailey, and a verdict of Guilty being returned, he was sentenced to be hanged on the following Monday.

He was carried to execution opposite the place where he committed the murder; and no man ever met death with more dread. He used every evasion to prolong the fatal hour, repeatedly craving time for his devotions, until the sheriff, perceiving his motive, gave the signal, and he was turned off, on the 8th of December 1777, amidst the execrations of the surrounding spectators.

JOHN HOLMES AND PETER WILLIAMS.

WHIPPED FOR STEALING DEAD BODIES.

These impious robbers were of a class now, happily, no longer in existence, thanks to the exertions of modern legislators, who have made such enactments as render the stealing dead bodies no longer profitable. The names by which such fellows were formerly known were "resurrectionists," and "body-snatchers;" and so common--nay, so necessary was their trade for the purposes of science, that it was carried on without the smallest attempt at concealment. A monthly publication, in March 1776, says, "The remains of more than twenty dead bodies were discovered in a shed in Tottenham-court-road, supposed to have been deposited there by traders to the surgeons, of whom there is one, it is said, in the Borough, who makes an open profession of dealing in dead bodies, and is well known by the name of "The Resurrectionist."

It is notorious that when Hunter, the famous anatomist, was in full practice, he had a surgical theatre behind his house in Windmill-street, where he gave lectures to a very numerous class of pupils, demonstrating upon stolen "subjects." To this place such numbers of dead bodies were brought during the winter season, that the mob rose several times, and were upon the point of pulling down his house. Numberless were the instances of dead bodies being seized on their way to the surgeons; and it was known that hackney-coachmen, for an extra fare, and porters with hampers, were often employed by the resurrection-men to convey their plunder to its market.

In more recent days the establishment of Brookes, which was carried on for a purpose exactly similar to that of Hunter, has been equally well known to be supplied in the same manner. But at the same time that such a trade must have been most disgusting, and its effects most harrowing to persons, the bodies of whose friends or relations may have been carried off to be placed under the knife of the anatomist, every excuse must be made for those by whom it was supported. The advancement of science was most desirable to be obtained, and most important for the existing generation; and where the law was deficient in providing the proper means of obtaining this great end, it became requisite that measures, unlawful in themselves, it must be owned, should be adopted to secure an object, the absolute necessity of which was universally admitted.

Provisions have recently been made by Parliament, by which all body-stealing has been effectually stopped. The bodies of unclaimed paupers and suicides are now submitted to the anatomist; and under the excellent arrangements of a superintendant officer who is appointed, all hospitals and schools are well supplied, the number of bodies at his disposal being generally more than adequate to meet the demand. It should be added, that the remains are invariably buried with all that decorum and respect, which would be observed in the interment of a body under other circumstances.

But to proceed to the case now before us. Holmes, the principal offender, was grave-digger of St. George's, Bloomsbury; Williams was his assistant; and a woman named Esther Donaldson was charged as an accomplice. They were all indicted, in December 1777, for stealing the body of Mrs. Jane Sainsbury, who departed this life on the 9th of October then last past, and whose corpse had been interred in the burying-ground of St. George's on the Monday following. They were detected before they could secure their booty; and the widower, however unpleasant, determined to prosecute them. In order to secure their conviction, he had to undergo the painful task of viewing and identifying the remains of his wife.

The grave-digger and his deputy were convicted on the fullest evidence; and the acquittal of the woman was much regretted, as no doubt remained of her equal guilt. She was therefore released; but Holmes and Williams were sentenced to six months' imprisonment, and to be whipped twice on their bare backs from the end of Kingsgate-street, Holborn, to Dyot-street, St. Giles's, a distance of half a mile. The sentence was duly carried out, amidst crowds of well-satisfied and approving spectators.

DR. WILLIAM DODD.

EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.

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

Dr. Dodd was the eldest son of a clergyman who held the vicarage of Bourne in the county of Lincoln, and was born at Bourne on the 29th of May 1729; and after finishing his school education, was admitted a sizar of Clare Hall, Cambridge, in the year 1745, under the tuition of Mr. John Courtail, afterwards Archdeacon of Lewes. At the University he acquired the approbation of his superiors by his close attention to his studies; and at the close of the year 1749 he took his first degree of bachelor of arts with considerable reputation, his name being included in the list of wranglers. It was not only in his academical pursuits, however, that he was emulous of distinction. Having a pleasing manner, a genteel address, and a lively imagination, he was equally celebrated for his accomplishments and his learning. In particular he was fond of the elegances of dress, and became, as he ludicrously expressed it, "a zealous votary of the god of Dancing," to whose service he dedicated much of that time which he could borrow from his more important avocations.

The talent which he possessed was very early displayed to the public; and by the time he had attained the age of eighteen years, prompted by the desire of fame, and perhaps also to increase his income, he commenced author, in which character he began to obtain some degree of reputation. At this period of his life, young, thoughtless, volatile and inexperienced, he precipitately quitted the University, and, relying entirely on his pen, removed to the metropolis, where he entered largely into the gaieties of the town, and followed every species of amusement with the most dangerous avidity. In this course, however, he did not continue long. To the surprise of his friends, who least suspected him of taking such a step, without fortune, and destitute of all means of supporting a family, he hastily united himself, on the 15th of April 1751, in marriage with Miss Mary Perkins, daughter of one of the domestics of Sir John Dolben, a young lady then residing in Frith-street, Soho, who, though endowed with personal attractions, was deficient in those of birth and fortune. To a person circumstanced as Mr. Dodd then was, no measure could be more imprudent, or apparently more ruinous and destructive to his future prospects in life. He did not, however, seem to view it in that light, but, with a degree of thoughtlessness natural to him, he immediately took and furnished a house in Wardour-street. His friends now began to be alarmed at his situation, and his father came to town in great distress upon the occasion; and in consequence of the advice which he gave him, his son quitted his house before the commencement of winter, and, urged by the same preceptor, he was induced to adopt a new plan for his future subsistence. On the 19th of October in the same year, he was ordained a deacon by the Bishop of Ely, at Caius College, Cambridge; and, with more prudence than he had ever shown before, he now devoted himself with great assiduity to the study and duties of his profession. In these pursuits he appeared so sincere, that he even renounced all his attention to his favourite objects--polite letters. At the end of his preface to the "Beauties of Shakspeare," published in this year, he says, "For my own part, better and more important things henceforth demand my attention; and I here with no small pleasure take leave of Shakspeare and the critics. As this work was begun and finished before I entered upon the sacred function in which I am now happily employed, let me trust this juvenile performance will prove no objection, since graver, and some very eminent, members of the Church have thought it no improper employ to comment upon, explain, and publish the works of their own country poets."

The first service in which he was engaged as a clergyman was to assist the Rev. Mr. Wyatt, vicar of West Ham, as his curate: thither he removed, and there he spent the happiest and more honourable moments of his life. His behaviour was proper, decent, and exemplary. It acquired for him the respect and secured for him the favour of his parishioners so far, that on the death of their lecturer, in 1752, he was chosen to succeed him. His abilities had at this time every opportunity of being shown to advantage; and his exertions were so properly directed, that he soon became a favourite and popular preacher. Those who were at this period of his life acquainted with his character and his talents, bear testimony to the indefatigable zeal which he exhibited in his ministry, and the success with which his efforts were crowned. The follies of his youth seemed entirely past, and his friends viewed the alteration in his conduct with the greatest satisfaction; while the world promised itself an example to hold out for the imitation of others. At this early season of his life, he entertained sentiments favourable towards the opinions of Mr. Hutchinson, and he was suspected to incline towards Methodism; but subsequent consideration confirmed his belief in the doctrines of the Established Church. In 1752 he was selected lecturer of St. James, Garlick-hill, which, two years afterwards, he exchanged for the same post at St. Olave, Hart-street; and about the same time he was appointed to preach Lady Moyer's lectures at St. Paul's, where, from the visit of the three angels to Abraham, and other similar passages in the Old Testament, he endeavoured to prove the commonly-received doctrine of the Trinity. On the establishment of the Magdalen House in 1758, he was amongst the first and most active promoters of that excellent charitable institution, which derived great advantage from his zeal for its prosperity, and which, even up to the unhappy termination of his life, continued to be materially benefited by the exercise of his talents in its behalf. His exertions, however, were not confined to this hospital, but he was also one of the promoters of the Society for the Relief of Poor Debtors, and of the Humane Society for the recovery of persons apparently drowned.

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

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

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

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

At this period Dr. Dodd appears to have been in the zenith of his popularity and reputation. Beloved and respected by all orders of people, he would have reached, in all probability, the situation which was the object of his wishes, had he possessed patience enough to have waited for it, and prudence sufficient to keep himself out of those difficulties which might prove fatal to his integrity. But the habits of dissipation and expense had acquired too great an influence over him; and he had by their means involved himself in considerable debts. To extricate himself from them, he was tempted to an act which entirely cut off every hope which he could entertain of rising in his profession, and totally ruined him in the opinion of the world. On the translation of Bishop Moss, in February 1774, to the see of Bath and Wells, the valuable rectory of St. George, Hanover-square, fell to the disposal of the Crown, by virtue of the King's prerogative. Whether from the suggestion of his own mind, or from the persuasion of some friend, is uncertain; but on this occasion he took a step of all others the most wild and extravagant, and the least likely to be attended with success. He caused an anonymous letter to be sent to Lady Apsley, offering the sum of three thousand pounds if by her means he could be presented to the living. The letter was immediately communicated to the chancellor, and, after being traced to the writer, was laid before his majesty. The insult offered to so high an officer by the proposal was followed by instant punishment. Dr. Dodd's name was ordered to be struck out of the list of chaplains. The press teemed with satire and invective; he was abused and ridiculed in the papers of the day; and to crown the whole, the transaction became a subject of entertainment in one of Mr. Foote's pieces at the Haymarket.

As no explanation could justify so absurd a measure, so no apology could palliate it. An evasive letter in the newspapers, promising a justification at a future day, was treated with universal contempt; and stung with remorse, and feelingly alive to the disgrace he had brought on himself, he hastily quitted the place where neglect and insult only attended him, and going to Geneva to his late pupil, he was presented by him with the living of Winge in Buckinghamshire, which he held with that of Hockliffe, by virtue of a dispensation. Though encumbered with debts, he might still have retrieved his circumstances, if not his character, had he attended to the dictates of prudence; but his extravagance continued undiminished, and drove him to pursue schemes which overwhelmed him with additional infamy. He became the editor of a newspaper; and it is said that he even attempted, by means of a commission of bankruptcy, to clear himself from his debts; an attempt in which, however, he failed. From this period it would appear that every step which he took led to complete his ruin. In the summer of 1776, he went to France, and there, with little regard to decency or the observances proper to be maintained by a minister of religion, he paraded himself in a phaeton at the races on the plains of Sablons, dressed in all the foppery of the kingdom in which he was temporarily resident. At the beginning of winter he returned to London, and continued there to exercise the duties of his profession until the very moment of his committing the offence for which his life was subsequently forfeited to the offended laws of his country. On the 2nd of February 1777, he preached his last sermon at the Magdalen Chapel, where he was still heard with approbation and pleasure; and on the 4th of the same month he forged a bond, purporting to be that of his late pupil, the Earl of Chesterfield, for 4200_l._ Pressed by creditors, and unable any longer to meet their demands or soothe their importunities, he was driven to commit this crime, as the only expedient to which he could have recourse to aid him in his escape from his difficulties. The method which he adopted in completing the forgery was very remarkable. He pretended that the noble earl had urgent occasion to borrow 4000_l._ but that he did not choose to be his own agent, and he begged that the matter therefore might be secretly and expeditiously conducted. A person named Lewis Robertson was the person whom he employed as broker to negotiate the transaction; and he presented to him a bond, not filled up or signed, that he might find a person ready to advance the sum required, as he directed him to say, to a young nobleman who had lately come of age. Several applications were made by Robertson without success, the persons refusing because they were not to be present when the bond was executed; but at length the agent, confiding in the honour and integrity of his employer went to Messrs. Fletcher and Peach, who agreed to advance the money. Mr. Robertson then carried the bond back to the doctor, in order that it might be filled up and executed; and on the following day it was returned, bearing the signature of the Earl of Chesterfield, and attested by the doctor himself. Mr. Robertson, knowing that Mr. Fletcher was a man who required all legal observances to be attended to, and that he would therefore object to the bond as bearing the name of one witness only, put his name under that of Dr. Dodd, and in that state he carried the bond to him, and received from him the sum of 4000_l._ in return, which he paid over to his employer.

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

Upon their explaining the nature of their business to him, he appeared much struck and affected, and declared his willingness to make any reparation in his power. Mr. Manly told him that his instantly returning the money was the only mode which remained for him to save himself; and he immediately gave up six notes of 500_l._ each, making 3000_l._, and he drew on his banker for 500_l._ more. The broker then returned 100_l._ and the doctor gave a second draft on his banker for 200_l._, and a judgment on his goods for the remaining 400_l._ All this was done by the doctor in full reliance on the honour of the parties that the bond should be returned to him cancelled; but, notwithstanding this restitution, he was taken before the lord mayor, and charged with the forgery. The doctor declared that he had no intention to defraud Lord Chesterfield or the gentlemen who advanced the money, and hoped that the satisfaction he had made in returning it would atone for his offence. He was pressed, he said, exceedingly for 300_l._ to pay some bills due to tradesmen, and took this step as a temporary resource, and would have repaid the money in half a year. "My Lord Chesterfield," added he, "cannot but have some tenderness for me as my pupil. I love him, and he knows it. There is nobody wishes to prosecute. I am sure my Lord Chesterfield don't want my life,--I hope he will show clemency to me. Mercy should triumph over justice." Clemency, however, was denied; and the doctor was committed to the Compter in preparation for his trial. On the 19th of February, Dr. Dodd, being put to the bar at the Old Bailey, addressed the Court in the following words:--

"My lords,--I am informed that the bill of indictment against me has been found on the evidence of Mr. Robertson, who was taken out of Newgate, without any authority or leave from your lordships, for the purpose of procuring the bill to be found. Mr. Robertson is a subscribing witness to the bond, and, as I conceive, would be swearing to exculpate himself if he should be admitted as a witness against me; and as the bill has been found upon his evidence, which was surreptitiously obtained, I submit to your lordships that I ought not to be compelled to plead on this indictment; and upon this question I beg to be heard by my counsel. I beg leave also further to observe to your lordships, that the gentlemen on the other side of the question are bound over to prosecute Mr. Robertson."

Previously to the arguments of the counsel, an order which had been surreptitiously obtained from an officer of the court, dated Wednesday, February 19, and directed to the keeper of Newgate, commanding him to carry Lewis Robertson to Hicks's Hall, in order to his giving evidence before the grand inquest on the present bill of indictment--as well as a resolution of the Court, reprobating the said order--and also the recognizance entered into by Mr. Manly, Mr. Peach, Mr. Innis, and the Right Hon. the Earl of Chesterfield to prosecute and give evidence against Dr. Dodd and Lewis Robertson for forgery--were ordered to be read; and the clerk of the arraigns was directed to inform the Court whether the name "Lewis Robertson" was indorsed as a witness on the back of the indictment, which was answered in the affirmative.

The counsel now proceeded in their arguments for and against the prisoner. Mr. Howarth, one of Dr. Dodd's advocates, contended that no person ought to plead or answer to an indictment, if it appeared upon the face of that indictment that the evidence upon which the bill was found was not legal, or competent to have been adduced before the grand jury.

Mr. Cooper and Mr. Buller, on the same side, pursued the same line of argument with equal ingenuity, and expressed a hope that Dr. Dodd would not be called upon to plead to an indictment found upon such evidence as had been pointed out, but that the indictment would be ordered to be quashed.

The counsel for the prosecution advanced various arguments in opposition to those employed on the other side, and the learned judge having taken a note of the objection, it was agreed that the trial should proceed, the question of the competency of Mr. Robertson as a witness being reserved for the consideration of the twelve judges.

The doctor was then arraigned upon the indictment, which charged him in the usual terms with the forgery upon the Earl of Chesterfield; and the evidence in proof of the facts above stated having been given, the Court called upon the prisoner for his defence. He addressed the Court and jury in the following terms:--

"My lords and gentlemen of the jury,--Upon the evidence which has this day been produced against me, I find it very difficult to address your lordships. There is no man in the world who has a deeper sense of the heinous nature of the crime for which I stand indicted than myself: I view it, my lords, in all its extent of malignancy towards a commercial state like ours; but, my lords, I humbly apprehend, though no lawyer, that the moral turpitude and malignancy of the crime always, both in the eye of the law and of religion, consists in the intention. I am informed, my lords, that the act of parliament on this head runs perpetually in this style, with an intention to defraud. Such an intention, my lords and gentlemen of the jury, I believe, has not been attempted to be proved upon me, and the consequences that have happened, which have appeared before you, sufficiently prove that a perfect and ample restitution has been made. I leave it, my lords, to you and the gentlemen of the jury to consider, that if an unhappy man ever deviates from the law of right, yet if in the single first moment of recollection he does all that he can to make a full and perfect amends, what, my lords and gentlemen of the jury, can God and man desire further? My lords, there are a variety of little circumstances too tedious to trouble you with, with respect to this matter. Were I to give loose to my feelings, I have many things to say which I am sure you would feel with respect to me; but as it appears on all hands, that no injury, intentional or real, has been done to any man living, I hope that you will consider the case in its true state of clemency. I must observe to your lordships, that though I have met with all candour in this court, yet I have been pursued with excessive cruelty; I have been prosecuted after the most express engagements, after the most solemn assurances, after the most delusive, soothing arguments of Mr. Manly; I have been prosecuted with a cruelty scarcely to be paralleled. A person avowedly criminal in the same indictment with myself has been brought forth as a capital witness against me; a fact, I believe, totally unexampled. My lords, oppressed as I am with infamy, loaded as I am with distress, sunk under this cruel prosecution, your lordships and the gentlemen of the jury cannot think life a matter of any value to me. No, my lords, I solemnly protest, that death of all blessings would be the most pleasant to me after this pain. I have yet, my lords, ties which call upon me--ties which render me desirous even to continue this miserable existence. I have a wife, my lords, who, for twenty-seven years, has lived an unparalleled example of conjugal attachment and fidelity, and whose behaviour during this trying scene would draw tears of approbation, I am sure, even from the most inhuman. My lords, I have creditors, honest men, who will lose much by my death. I hope, for the sake of justice towards them, some mercy will be shown to me. If, upon the whole, these considerations at all avail with you--if, upon the most impartial survey of matters, not the slightest intention of injury can appear to any one--(and I solemnly declare it was in my power to replace it in three months--of this I assured Mr. Robertson frequently, and had his solemn assurances that no man should be privy to it but Mr. Fletcher and himself)--and if no injury was done to any man upon earth, I then hope, I trust, I fully confide myself in the tenderness, humanity, and protection, of my country."

The jury retired for about ten minutes, and then returned with a verdict that "the prisoner was guilty;" but at the same time presented a petition, humbly recommending the doctor to the royal mercy.

It was afterwards declared that upon the reserved point, the opinion of the judges was, that he had been legally convicted. On the last day of the sessions Dr. Dodd was again put to the bar to receive judgment. The clerk of the arraigns then addressed him, saying,

"Dr. William Dodd, you stand convicted of forgery, what have you to say why this court should not give you judgment to die, according to law?"

In reply Dr. Dodd addressed the court as follows:--

"My lord,--I new stand before you a dreadful example of human infirmity. I entered upon public life with the expectations common to young men whose education has been liberal, and whose abilities have been flattered; and, when I became a clergyman, I considered myself as not impairing the dignity of the order. I was not an idle, nor, I hope, an useless minister: I taught the truths of Christianity with the zeal of conviction and the authority of innocence.

"My labours were approved, my pulpit became popular, and I have reason to believe that, of those who heard me, some have been preserved from sin, and some have been reclaimed. Condescend, my lord, to think, if these considerations aggravate my crime, how much they must embitter my punishment! Being distinguished and elevated by the confidence of mankind, I had too much confidence in myself; and, thinking my integrity--what others thought it--established in sincerity, and fortified by religion, I did not consider the danger of vanity, nor suspect the deceitfulness of mine own heart. The day of conflict came, in which temptation seized and overwhelmed me! I committed the crime, which I entreat your lordship to believe that my conscience hourly represents to me in its full bulk of mischief and malignity. Many have been overpowered by temptation, who are now among the penitent in heaven! To an act now waiting the decision of vindictive justice I will now presume to oppose the counterbalance of almost thirty years (a great part of the life of man) passed in exciting and exercising charity--in relieving such distresses as I now feel--in administering those consolations which I now want. I will not otherwise extenuate my offence than by declaring, what I hope will appear to many, and what many circumstances make probable, that I did not intend finally to defraud: nor will it become me to apportion my own punishment, by alleging that my sufferings have been not much less than my guilt; I have fallen from reputation which ought to have made me cautious, and from a fortune which ought to have given me content. I am sunk at once into poverty and scorn; my name and my crime fill the ballads in the streets; the sport of the thoughtless, and the triumph of the wicked! It may seem strange, my lord, that, remembering what I have lately been, I should still wish to continue what I am! but contempt of death, how speciously soever it may mingle with heathen virtues, has nothing in it suitable to Christian penitence. Many motives impel me to beg earnestly for life. I feel the natural horror of a violent death, the universal dread of untimely dissolution. I am desirous to recompense the injury I have done to the clergy, to the world, and to religion, and to efface the scandal of my crime, by the example of my repentance: but, above all, I wish to die with thoughts more composed, and calmer preparation. The gloom and confusion of a prison, the anxiety of a trial, the horrors of suspense, and the inevitable vicissitudes of passion, leave not the mind in a due disposition for the holy exercises of prayer and self-examination. Let not a little life be denied me, in which I may, by meditation and contrition, prepare myself to stand at the tribunal of Omnipotence, and support the presence of that Judge, who shall distribute to all according to their works: who will receive and pardon the repenting sinner, and from whom the merciful shall obtain mercy! For these reasons, my lords, amidst shame and misery, I yet wish to live; and most humbly implore, that I may be recommended by your lordship to the clemency of his majesty."

Here he sunk down overcome with mental agony, and some time elapsed before he was sufficiently recovered to hear the dreadful sentence of the law, which the Recorder pronounced upon him in the following words:

"Dr. William Dodd,

"You have been convicted of the offence of publishing a forged and counterfeit bond, knowing it to be forged and counterfeited; and you have had the advantage which the laws of this country afford to every man in your situation, a fair, an impartial, and an attentive trial. The jury, to whose justice you appealed, have found you guilty; their verdict has undergone the consideration of the learned judges, and they found no ground to impeach the justice of that verdict; you yourself have admitted the justice of it; and now the very painful duty that the necessity of the law imposes upon the court, to pronounce the sentence of that law against you, remains only to be performed. You appear to entertain a very proper sense of the enormity of the offence which you have committed; you appear, too, in a state of contrition of mind, and, I doubt not, have duly reflected how far the dangerous tendency of the offence you have been guilty of is increased by the influence of example, in being committed by a person of your character, and of the sacred function of which you are a member. These sentiments seem to be yours; I would wish to cultivate such sentiments; but I would not wish to add to the anguish of your mind by dwelling upon your situation. Your application for mercy must be made elsewhere; it would be cruel in the court to flatter you; there is a power of dispensing mercy, where you may apply. Your own good sense, and the contrition you express, will induce you to lessen the influence of the example by publishing your hearty and sincere detestation of the offence of which you are convicted; and will show you that to attempt to palliate or extenuate it, would indeed add to the influence of a crime of this kind being committed by a person of your character and known abilities. I would therefore warn you against anything of that kind. Now, having said this, I am obliged to pronounce the sentence of the law, which is--That you, Doctor William Dodd, be carried from hence to the place from whence you came; that from thence you be carried to the place of execution, and that there you be hanged by the neck until you are dead." To this Dr. Dodd replied, "Lord Jesus, receive my soul!" and was immediately conveyed from the bar.

Great exertions were now made to save Dr. Dodd. The newspapers were filled with letters and paragraphs in his favour; individuals of all ranks exerted themselves in his behalf; the members of several charities which had been benefited by him joined in application to the throne for mercy; parish officers went in mourning from house to house, to procure subscriptions to a petition to the king; and this petition, which, with the names of nearly thirty thousand persons, filled twenty-three sheets of parchment, was actually presented. Even the lord mayor and common council went in a body to St. James's, to solicit mercy for the convict. These were, however, of no avail. On the 15th of June the privy council assembled, and deliberated on the cases of the several prisoners then under condemnation; and in the end a warrant was ordered to be made out for the execution of Dr. Dodd, with two others (one of whom was afterwards reprieved), on the 27th of the same month.

Having been flattered with the hopes of a pardon, he appeared to be much shocked at the intimation of his approaching destiny; but resumed in a short time a degree of fortitude sufficient to enable him to pass through the last scene of his life with firmness and decency. On the 26th he took leave of his wife and some friends, and he afterwards declared himself ready to atone for the offence he had given to the world. His deportment was meek, humble, and devout, expressive of resignation and contrition, and calculated to inspire sentiments of respect for his person, and concern for his unhappy fate.

He was attended to the fatal spot, in a mourning-coach, by the Rev. Mr. Villette, Ordinary of Newgate, and the Rev. Mr. Dobey. Another criminal, named John Harris, was executed at the same time. It is impossible to give an idea of the immense crowds of people that thronged the streets from Newgate to Tyburn. When the prisoners arrived at the fatal tree, and were placed in the cart, Dr. Dodd exhorted his fellow sufferer in so generous a manner, as testified that he had not forgotten his duty as a clergyman; and he was also very fervent in the exercise of his own devotions. Just before he was turned off, he was observed to whisper to the executioner; and, although we have not the means of ascertaining the precise purport of his remark, it is pretty obvious from the fact, that as soon as the cart had been drawn away from the gibbet, he ran immediately under the scaffold and took hold of the doctor's legs as if to steady his body, and the unfortunate gentleman appeared to die without pain.

Of his behaviour before execution a particular account was given by Mr. Villette, Ordinary of Newgate, in the following terms:--

"On the morning of his death I went to him, with the Rev. Mr. Dobey, Chaplain of the Magdalen, whom he desired to attend him to the place of execution. He appeared composed; and when I asked him how he had been supported, he said that he had had some comfortable sleep, by which he should be the better enabled to perform his duty.

"As we went from his room, in our way to the chapel, we were joined by his friend, who had spent the foregoing evening with him, and also by another clergyman. When we were in the Vestry adjoining the Chapel, he exhorted his fellow-sufferer, who had attempted to destroy himself, but had been prevented by the vigilance of the keeper. He spoke to him with great tenderness and emotion of heart, entreating him to consider that he had but a short time to live, and that it was highly necessary that he, as well as himself, made good use of their time, implored pardon of God under a deep sense of sin, and looked to that Lord by whose merits alone sinners can be saved. He desired me to call in the other gentlemen, who likewise assisted him to move the heart of the poor youth; but the Doctor's words were the most pathetic and effectual. He lifted up his hands, and cried out 'Oh! Lord Jesus, have mercy upon us! and give, oh! give unto him, my fellow sinner, that, as we suffer together, we may go together to Heaven!' His conversation to this poor youth was so moving, that tears flowed from the eyes of all present.

"When we went into the chapel to prayer and the holy communion, true contrition and warmth of devotion appeared evident in him throughout the whole service. After it was ended, he again addressed himself to Harris in the most moving and persuasive manner, and not without effect; for he declared that he was glad that he had not made away with himself, and said he was easier, and hoped he should now go to Heaven. The Doctor told him how Christ had suffered for them; and that he himself was a greater sinner than he, as he had sinned more against light and conviction, and therefore his guilt was greater; and that as he was confident that mercy was shown to his soul, so he should look to Christ and trust in his merits.

"He prayed God to bless his friends who were present with him, and to give his blessing to all his brethren the clergy; that he would pour out his spirit upon them, and make them true ministers of Jesus Christ, and that they might follow the divine precepts of their heavenly Master. Turning to one who stood near him, he stretched out his hand, and said, 'Now, my dear friend, speculation is at an end; all must be real! What poor ignorant beings we are!' He prayed for the Magdalens, and wished they were there, to sing for him the 23d Psalm.

"After he had waited some time for the officers, he asked what o'clock it was; and, being told that it was half an hour after eight, he said 'I wish they were ready, for I long to be gone.' He requested of his friends, who were in tears about him, to pray for him; to which he was answered, by two of them, 'We pray more than language can utter.' He replied, 'I believe it.'

"At length he was summoned to go down into a part of the yard which is enclosed from the rest of the gaol, where the two unhappy convicts and the friends of the doctor were alone. On his seeing two prisoners looking out of the windows, he went to them, and exhorted them so pathetically, that they both wept abundantly. He said once, 'I am now a spectacle to men, and shall soon be a spectacle to angels.'

"Just before the sheriff's officers came with the halters, one who was walking with him told him that there was yet a little ceremony he must; pass through before he went out. He asked 'What is that?' 'You will be bound.' He looked up, and said, 'Yet I am free; my freedom is there,' pointing upwards. He bore it with Christian patience, and beyond what might have been expected; and, when the men[14] offered to excuse tying his hands, he desired them to do their duty, and thanked them for their kindness. After he was bound, I offered to assist him with my arm in conducting him through the yard, where several people were assembled to see him; but he replied, with seeming pleasure, 'No, I am as firm as a rock.' As he passed along the yard, the spectators and prisoners wept and bemoaned him; and he, in return, prayed God to bless them.

"On the way to execution he consoled himself in reflecting and speaking on what Christ had suffered for him; lamented the depravity of human nature, which made sanguinary laws necessary; and said he could gladly have died in the prison-yard, as being led out to public execution tended greatly to distress him. He desired me to read to him the 51st Psalm, and also pointed out an admirable penitential prayer from 'Rossell's Prisoner's Director.' He prayed again for the king, and likewise for the people.

"When he came near the street where he formerly dwelt he was much affected, and wept. He said, probably his tears would seem to be the effect of cowardice, but it was a weakness he could not well help; and added, he hoped he was going to a better home.

"When he arrived at the gallows he ascended the cart, and spoke to his fellow-sufferer. He then prayed, not only for himself, but also for his wife, and the unfortunate youth that suffered with him; and, declaring that he died in the true faith of the Gospel of Christ, in perfect love and charity with all mankind, and with thankfulness to his friends, he was launched into eternity, imploring mercy for his soul for the sake of his blessed Redeemer."

A paper, of which the following is a copy, had been delivered by Dr. Dodd to Mr. Villette to be read at the place of execution, but was omitted as it seemed impossible to make all present aware of its contents.

"To the words of dying men regard has always been paid. I am brought hither to suffer death for an act of fraud, of which I confess myself guilty with shame, such as my former state of life naturally produces, and I hope with such sorrow as He, to whom the heart is known, will not disregard. I repent that I have violated the laws by which peace and confidence are established among men; I repent that I have attempted to injure my fellow-creatures; and I repent that I have brought disgrace upon my order, and discredit upon religion: but my offences against God are without number, and can admit only of general confession and general repentance. Grant, Almighty God, for the sake of Jesus Christ, that my repentance, however late, however imperfect, may not be in vain!

"The little good that now remains in my power is to warn others against those temptations by which I have been seduced. I have always sinned against conviction; my principles have never been shaken; I have always considered the Christian religion as a revelation from God, and its divine Author as the Saviour of the world; but the laws of God, though never disowned by me, have often been forgotten. I was led astray from religious strictness by the delusion of show and the delights of voluptuousness. I never knew or attended to the calls of frugality, or the needful minuteness of painful economy. Vanity and pleasure, into which I plunged, required expense disproportionate to my income; expense brought distress upon me; and distress, importunate distress, urged me to temporary fraud.

"For this fraud I am to die; and I die declaring, in the most solemn manner, that, however I have deviated from my own precepts, I have taught others, to the best of my knowledge, and with all sincerity, the true way to eternal happiness. My life, for some few unhappy years past, has been dreadfully erroneous; but my ministry has been always sincere. I have constantly believed; and I now leave the world solemnly avowing my conviction, that there is no other name under Heaven by which we can be saved but only the name of the Lord Jesus; and I entreat all who are here to join with me in my last petition, that, for the sake of that Lord Jesus Christ, my sins may be forgiven, and my soul received into his everlasting kingdom.

"June 27, 1777."

"WILLIAM DODD."

The body of the Doctor was on the Monday following carried to Cowley, in Buckinghamshire, and deposited in the church there.

During the doctor's confinement in Newgate (a period of several months) he chiefly employed himself in writing various pieces, which show at once his piety and talent. The principal of these were his "Thoughts in Prison," in five parts, from which we cannot doubt but that our readers, in finishing our life of so eminent, yet unfortunate, a man, will be gratified by the insertion of a few short extracts. "I began these Thoughts," says the unhappy man, writing in Newgate, under date of the 23d of April, 1777, after his condemnation, "merely from the impression in my mind, without plan, purpose, or motive, more than the situation of my soul.

"I continued thence on a thoughtful and regular plan; and I have been enabled wonderfully, in a state which in better days I should have supposed would have destroyed all power of reflection, to bring them nearly to a conclusion. I dedicate them to God, and the reflecting serious among my fellow-creatures; and I bless the Almighty for the ability to go through them amidst the terrors of this dire place (Newgate), and the bitter anguish of my disconsolate mind! The thinking will easily pardon all inaccuracies, as I am neither able nor willing to read over these melancholy lines with a curious or critical eye. They are imperfect, but in the language of the heart; and, had I time and inclination, might, and should be, improved.--But----

(Signed)

"W. D."

The unfortunate author's Thoughts on his Imprisonment are thus introduced:--

"My friends are gone! harsh on its sullen hinge Grates the dread door: the massy bolts respond Tremendous to the surly keeper's touch: The dire keys clang, with movement dull and slow, While their behest the ponderous locks perform: And, fasten'd firm, the object of their care Is left to solitude--to sorrow left.

"But wherefore fasten'd? Oh! still stronger bonds Than bolts, or locks, or doors of molten brass, To solitude and sorrow could consign His anguish'd soul, and prison him, though free! For whither should he fly, or where produce In open day, and to the golden sun, His hapless head! whence every laurel torn, On his bald brow sits grinning infamy: And all in sportive triumph twines around The keen, the stinging arrows of disgrace."

After dwelling on the miseries of that dreary confinement, at sight of which he formerly started back with horror, he adds,

"O dismal change! now not in friendly sort A Christian visitor, to pour the balm Of Christian comfort in some wretch's ear-- I am that wretch myself! and want, much want, That Christian consolation I bestow'd; So cheerfully bestow'd! Want, want, my God, From thee the mercy, which, thou know'st my gladsome soul Ever sprang forth with transport to impart.

"Why then, mysterious Providence, pursued With such unfeeling ardour? Why pursued To death's dread bourn, by men to me unknown! Why--stop the deep question; it o'erwhelms my soul; It reels, it staggers! Earth turns round! My brain Whirls in confusion! My impetuous heart Throbs with pulsation not to be restrain'd; Why?--Where?--O Chesterfield, my son, my son!"

The unfortunate divine afterwards thus proceeds:--

"Nay, talk not of composure! I had thought In older time, that my weak heart was soft, And pity's self might break it. I had thought That marble-eyed Severity would crack The slender nerves which guide my reins of sense, And give me up to madness! 'Tis not so; My heart is callous, and my nerves are tough; It will not break; they will not crack; or else What more, just heaven! was wanting to the deed, Than to behold--Oh! that eternal night Had in that moment screened from myself! My Stanhope to behold! Ah! piercing sight! Forget it; 'tis distraction: speak who can! But I am lost! a criminal adjudged!"

It is not a little singular that Dr. Dodd, a few years before his death, published a Sermon, intitled, "The frequency of capital punishments inconsistent with justice, sound policy, and religion." This, he says, was intended to have been preached at the Chapel-royal, at St. James's; but omitted on account of the absence of the court, during the author's month of waiting.

The following extract will show the unfortunate man's opinion on this subject, although there is no reason to suppose that he then contemplated the commission of the crime for which he suffered. He says,

"It would be easy to show the injustice of those laws which demand blood for the slightest offences; the superior justice and propriety of inflicting perpetual and laborious servitude; the greater utility hereof to the sufferer, as well as to the state, especially wherein we have a variety of necessary occupations, peculiarly noxious and prejudicial to the lives of the honest and industrious, and in which they might be employed, who had forfeited their lives and their liberties to society."

THOMAS HORNER AND JAMES FRYER,

EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.

The offence of these prisoners was attended by circumstances of great daring. From the evidence adduced at their trial, which took place at the Old Bailey Sessions in the month of April, 1778, it appeared that on the evening of the 1st of March, the prisoners, with three other men, were seen at Finchley together, and that while drinking in a public-house they made many inquiries of the persons present with regard to the house and family of a Mr. Clewen, a gentleman of respectability who resided in the neighbourhood. On the same night, between twelve and one o'clock, Mr. Clewen's house was entered by five persons, whose faces were disguised, and the noise created by their rushing up stairs being heard by Miss Clewen and her servant, they immediately ran out of their bed-chambers to see what was the matter. They were forced to return, however, and three of the men having entered their room, compelled them to cover their heads with the bed-clothes, uttering loud threats in case of their offering any resistance. The men-servants, who slept at the top of the house, being now alarmed, the thieves proceeded to their apartment, and one of them named Quick having got up, he received a severe blow with an iron bar, and, like his mistress, was compelled, with his fellows, to cover himself up with the bed-clothes. Two fellows then remained to watch them, while the rest went to Mr. Clewen's room, and treated him in the same manner, and then they proceeded to the bed-chamber of his son, whom they forced to go to his father's bed, holding his hands before his eyes, so that he should not distinguish who were his assailants. They then ransacked the house, and in about half-an-hour returned, saying that if young Clewen would tell them where the money was, they would give him his watch, which they had taken from under his pillow, but this being refused, they went away, saying that they were only going for some victuals, and would return. The house was then immediately examined by Mr. Clewen; and it was found that the thieves had effected an entrance by means of the back-door, and that they had fastened up that as well as the front entrance by nailing staples over the locks. It was afterwards discovered that they had carried off twenty-two guineas, fifty pounds in bank notes, a quantity of plate, several gold rings, a silver watch, and other property to a considerable amount. Information of the robbery was immediately conveyed to Sir John Fielding, whose officers, recognising the offenders from the description given of their persons, succeeded in securing the prisoners: Fryer at a small house which he occupied in the City Road, where there were found a number of picklock keys, and a hanger; and Horner at his lodgings in Perkins' Rents, Westminster, a cutlass being concealed under his bed. Two supposed accomplices, named Condon and Jordan, were also apprehended, but nothing distinct being proved against them they escaped: Jordan, however, being afterwards convicted for a second burglary in Copenhagen House, for which he received sentence of death.

Conviction having followed the production of this evidence, sentence of death was passed. Upon the sacrament being administered to Horner and Fryer, they admitted their guilt, and were executed at Tyburn on the 24th of June, 1778. The other offenders were subsequently also apprehended and executed.

THE REV. JAMES HACKMAN.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

The case of this unfortunate gentleman was long the topic of general conversation. Pamphlets and poems were written on the subject; and the fate of Mr. Hackman was generally pitied, as it was conceived that he was the victim of an insane love--a conclusion which will now be the more readily arrived at when the circumstances under which the murder, of which he was found guilty, was committed are considered.

It appears that Mr. Hackman was born at Gosport in Hampshire, and was originally designed for trade, in which his father was engaged. It was found, however, that his disposition was of too volatile a nature to admit of his success in any business; and his parents, willing to promote his interests to the extent of their power, purchased for him a commission as ensign in the 68th regiment of foot. He had not been long in the service before he was entrusted with the command of a recruiting party, and going to Huntingdon, in pursuance of his instructions, he there became known to the Earl of Sandwich, who had a seat in the neighbourhood, and by whom he was frequently invited to dinner. It appears that he now first became acquainted with the object of his passion, and the victim of his crime.

Miss Reay was the daughter of a staymaker in Covent Garden, and served her apprenticeship to a mantuamaker, in George's-court, St. John's lane, Clerkenwell. She was bound when only thirteen; and during her apprenticeship was taken notice of by the nobleman above mentioned, who took her under his protection, and treated her with every mark of tenderness. At the time of her being introduced to Mr. Hackman, she had lived with her noble protector during a period of nineteen years, and in the course of that time had borne him nine children; but although she was nearly twice the age of Mr. Hackman, no sooner had he seen her than he became violently enamoured of her.

It was while he was tormented by this unhappy and ungovernable passion that he found that any hopes which he might entertain of preferment in the army were not likely to be realised, and he determined to turn his thoughts to the church. In pursuance of this design he took orders, and he obtained the living of Wiverton, in Norfolk, only about Christmas preceding the shocking deed which cost him his life.

How long he had been in London previous to this affair is not certainly known; but at the time of its occurrence he lodged in Duke's-court, St. Martin's-lane. On the morning of the 7th of April, 1779, he sat for a considerable time in his closet, reading "Blair's Sermons:" but in the evening he took a walk to the Admiralty, where he saw Miss Reay go into the coach along with Signora Galli, who attended her. The coach drove to Covent Garden Theatre, where the ladies stayed to see the performance of "Love in a Village," and Mr. Hackman went into the theatre at the same time; but not being able to contain the violence of his passion, he returned, and again went to his lodgings, and having loaded two pistols went to the playhouse, where he waited till the play was over. Seeing Miss Reay ready to step into the coach, he took a pistol in each hand, one of which he discharged against her, which killed her on the spot, and the other at himself, which, however, did not take effect. He then beat himself with the butt-end, on his head, in order to destroy himself, so fully was he bent on the destruction of both; but after a struggle he was secured, his wounds dressed, and then he was carried before Sir John Fielding, who committed him to Tothillfields' Bridewell, and next to Newgate, where a person was appointed to attend him, lest he should lay violent hands on himself. In Newgate, as he knew he had no favour to expect, he prepared himself for the awful change which was about to take place. He had dined with his sister on the day on which the murder was committed, and in the afternoon he wrote a letter to her husband, Mr. Booth, an eminent attorney, informing him of his intention to destroy himself, and desiring him to sell what effects he had, in order to pay a small debt which he owed; but it appears that the letter was not despatched, as it was found in his pocket.

The prisoner was indicted at the ensuing Old Bailey sessions, and it was proved by Mr. MacNamara, that on Wednesday, the 7th of April, he was quitting the theatre, when seeing Miss Reay, with whom he was slightly acquainted, he offered her his assistance in reaching her carriage. She accepted his preferred arm, and just as they were in the piazza he heard the report of a pistol, when he directly felt his arm compressed by the lady's hand, and she then immediately fell to the ground. He thought at first that the lady had fallen from fright only, but on stooping to raise her up, he found that his hand was bloody, and he then saw that she was wounded. He immediately conveyed her into the Shakspeare Tavern, whither the prisoner soon after followed in custody. He asked him some questions about his reason for shooting Miss Reay, but the only answer which he gave was, that that was not the place to satisfy him. The prisoner afterwards said that his name was Hackman; and he sent for Mr. Booth, who lived in Craven-street. Other evidence was also adduced, from which it appeared that the prisoner followed Miss Reay out of the theatre, and having tapped her on the shoulder to attract her attention, he suddenly drew two pistols from his pocket, one of which he discharged at her and the other at himself. They both fell feet to feet, and the prisoner then beat himself about the head, and called out for some one to kill him. He was secured by a Mr. McMahon, who dressed his wounds, and conveyed him to the Shakspeare Tavern, where Miss Reay almost immediately afterwards died.

On his being called upon for his defence, the prisoner addressed the Court in the following terms:--"I should not have troubled the Court with the examination of witnesses to support the charge against me, had I not thought that the pleading guilty to the indictment gave an indication of contemning death not suitable to my present condition, and was, in some measure, being accessory to a second peril of my life: and I therefore thought that the justice of my country ought to be satisfied by suffering my offence to be proved, and the fact established by evidence.

"I stand here this day the most wretched of human beings, and confess myself criminal in a high degree; yet while I acknowledge, with shame and repentance, that my determination against my own life was formal and complete, I protest, with that regard to truth which becomes my situation, that the will to destroy her, who was ever dearer to me than life, was never mine till a momentary frenzy overcame me, and induced me to commit the deed I now deplore. The letter which I meant for my brother-in-law after my decease will have its due weight as to this point with good men.

"Before this dreadful act I trust nothing will be found in the tenor of my life which the common charity of mankind will not excuse. I have no wish to avoid the punishment which the laws of my country appoint for my crime; but being already too unhappy to feel a punishment in death or a satisfaction in life, I submit myself with penitence and patience to the disposal and judgment of Almighty God, and to the consequences of this inquiry into my conduct and intention."

The following letter was then read:--

"My dear Frederic,--When this reaches you I shall be no more; but do not let my unhappy fate distress you too much: I have strove against it as long as possible, but it now overpowers me. You well know where my affections were placed: my having by some means or other lost hers (an idea which I could not support) has driven me to madness. The world will condemn me, but your good heart will pity me. God bless you, my dear Frederic! Would I had a sum to leave you to convince you of my great regard! You was my only friend. I have hid one circumstance from you which gives me great pain. I owe Mr. Knight of Gosport one hundred pounds, for which he has the writings of my houses; but I hope in God, when they are sold and all other matters collected, there will be nearly enough to settle our account. May Almighty God bless you and yours with comfort and happiness; and may you ever be a stranger to the pangs I now feel! May Heaven protect my beloved woman, and forgive this act, which alone could relieve me from a world of misery I have long endured! Oh! if it should ever be in your power to do her an act of friendship, remember your faithful friend,

"J. HACKMAN."

The jury immediately returned their fatal verdict. The unhappy man heard the sentence pronounced against him with calm resignation to his fate, and employed the very short time allowed murderers after conviction in repentance and prayer.

During the procession to the fatal tree at Tyburn he seemed much affected, and said but little; and when he arrived at Tyburn, and got out of the coach and mounted the cart, he took leave of Dr. Porter and the Ordinary in the most affectionate manner.

After some time spent in prayer, he was turned off, on April the 19th 1779; and having hung the usual time, his body was carried to Surgeons Hall for dissection.

JAMES DONALLY.

EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.

This offender was one of a class of the most mischievous and most daring robbers; and the case which we have to relate, is one of a most atrocious nature,--the extortion of money by means of threats to charge the person imposed upon with a detestable crime, an offence which, we regret to say, has been but too prevalent in later years.

In the month of February, 1779, James, alias Patrick Donally, was indicted at the sessions held at the Old Bailey, for "that he, on the king's highway, in and upon the Honourable Charles Fielding, did make an assault, putting him in corporeal fear and danger of his life, and did steal from his person, and against his will, half-a-guinea, on the 18th of January:" and there was also a second count, which imputed to him a similar offence on the 20th of the same month, in robbing the prosecutor of a guinea.

From the evidence adduced, it appeared that the prosecutor was the second son of the Earl of Denbigh. Between six and seven o'clock on the evening of the 18th of January, he was going from the house of a lady, with whom he had dined, to Covent Garden Theatre, when, on passing through Soho-square, the prisoner came up to him and demanded some money. Mr. Fielding was surprised at this address, and requested to know upon what ground he applied to him; upon which the prisoner immediately said, that if he did not comply, he would take him before a magistrate, and impute to him the commission of a foul crime. Terrified by the insinuation, he handed half-a-guinea to him, which was all the money then in his possession, and returning to the house which he had just quitted, he borrowed half-a-guinea of the servant, in order that he might pursue his original intention of going to the theatre. On the 20th of the same month he was in Oxford-road, when the prisoner again accosted him, and saying that he could not have forgotten what passed the other night in Soho-square, declared that he must have money, or else, that he would follow up the intention which he had before expressed, and added that he knew it would go hard with him, unless he could prove an alibi. Mr. Fielding at this time was without money, but going to Mr. Waters, a grocer in Bond-street, he borrowed a guinea from him, which, under the influence of fear, he handed to the prisoner. On the 12th February, a third attempt at extortion was made by the prisoner; but in this instance, owing to the great resemblance between Mr. Fielding and his brother Lord Fielding, he mistook the latter for the former; Lord Fielding was on Hay-hill, when the prisoner accosted him in terms implying that he had seen him before. His lordship, however, expressed himself at a loss to know what he meant, when he asked him if he did not remember giving him a half-guinea in Soho-square, and a guinea at the grocer's in Bond-street? Lord Fielding utterly denied all recollection of either affair, and said that the prisoner should go before a magistrate to explain his meaning. The prisoner assented, and they proceeded together in the direction of Bow-street; but they had not gone many paces before the prisoner held back, and said that he would go no further. Lord Fielding became rather alarmed, and, being terrified by the prisoner's threats, he allowed him to escape. On the Tuesday following, however, as he was passing near the same spot, a voice, which he recognised as that of the prisoner, called out, "My Lord, I have met you again," and the prisoner at the same time coming from behind him, his Lordship seized him by the collar; the prisoner declared that he had been used ill when he last saw his Lordship, upon which the latter declared that he had used him too well, and would take care now that he should not get away again.

Donally now desired to be treated like a gentleman, saying he would not be dragged, but would go quietly, and Lord Fielding, not seeing any person who was likely to assist him, and apprehending a rescue, told him that, if he would walk along quietly to the next coffee-house, he would not drag him. They walked down Dover-street together; but the prisoner increasing his pace, Lord Fielding followed, and seized him. He fell down twice, but was again seized as soon as he arose.

By this time a crowd was assembled; Major Hartly, and two other gentlemen, happened to come by, and with their aid, the prisoner was secured, and conveyed to Bow-street, where the magistrates, on hearing the evidence, thought that the crime amounted to a highway robbery, and committed him for trial accordingly.

Donally in his defence, acknowledged that he had met Lord Fielding twice; that he had addressed him with decency, and desired him to hear something respecting his brother; and that Sir John Fielding had made the Honourable Charles Fielding carry on the prosecution. He did not deny the receipt of the guinea at the grocer's in Bond-Street; but averred that he did not deserve death on account of the charge against him.

The jury, having considered the whole evidence, brought in a verdict of "Guilty;" but Mr. Justice Buller, before whom the offender was tried, reserved the case for the opinion of the judges on a point of law.

On the 29th of April, 1779, the judges met, and gave their opinion on this case, pronouncing it a new species of robbery to evade the law, but which was not to be evaded; and the prisoner therefore underwent its sentence, which he had, with most abominable wickedness, brought upon his own head.

Another diabolical villain of this description, named John Staples, was, on the 6th of December, 1779, hanged at Tyburn, for extorting money from Thomas Harris Crosby, Esq. by charging him with an abominable crime.

MORGAN PHILLIPS.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER AND ARSON.

The case of this malefactor so strongly resembles that of a person named Edward Morgan, an account of whose crime we have already given, that we are induced to hope, for the sake of humanity, that some mistake has arisen in describing them as separate offences.

The crime for which the person whose case we are now considering, most justly suffered, was attended with extraordinary acts of cruelty.

The inhabitants of Narbeth, a small village in the county of Pembroke, were, in the middle of one night in the month of March, 1779, alarmed with the appearance of fire bursting from a farm-house near the turnpike. Before they could render assistance the house was nearly razed to the ground, and the family were missing. On examining the ruins the remains of the owner, Mr. Thomas, an old and respectable farmer, were found on a bench in a leaning posture, but so much burnt that it was impossible to determine whether he had been first murdered, or had perished by the flames.

Proceeding in the search, the next unhappy victim found was his niece, a fine young woman of about thirty years of age, whose body lay across the feet of a half burnt bedstead, with a thigh broken, and an arm missing. Among the ruins of another room was discovered the body of a labouring man, much burnt, but with a large wound on the back of his head, from which much blood had issued; and Mrs. Thomas' servant-woman, who was exceedingly robust, was also found dead at the entrance of one of the rooms, with several deep wounds in her head, and her hair clotted with blood. Her body was not so much burned as the others; and near her was discovered a large kitchen spit, half bent, with which it was conjectured she had opposed the murderers, for there could now be no doubt that the horrid scene which presented itself was the work of some person who, for the sake of plundering the house, had massacred its inhabitants and had then fired the premises, in order to conceal his bloody crimes. So horrible a deed excited universal attention, and every means was taken to secure its author.

A man named John Morris, a lazy, worthless character, who had been already in custody upon other charges, was apprehended on suspicion of being concerned in the affair; but he effectually put an end to all hopes of eliciting any information from him by throwing himself into a coal-pit, in spite of the efforts of the constables, in whose care he was, to restrain him, where his mangled remains were afterwards found. At length suspicion fell on Morgan Philips, and he, finding the general belief to be that he was guilty of this most horrible crime, at length confessed that he and Morris had been its perpetrators; that they had broken into the house of the farmer, and having murdered the family, from whom they met with considerable resistance, they had carried off all the valuable property which they could find, and had then set fire to the farm to prevent discovery.

The prisoner being put upon his trial at Haverfordwest, his confession was read to him, and assented to as being true; and its leading points being corroborated by other witnesses, he was found guilty, and suffered death at the same place on 5th April, 1779.

JAMES MATHISON.

EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.

This offender was tried on Thursday, the 20th of May, 1779. There perhaps never appeared in any court of justice so ingenious a man in his style as this person. His practice for some time past had been to go to the Bank, and take out a note; this he counterfeited, passed the copy, and, after some time, returned the original. His frequent applications at length exciting suspicions, which were increased by his appearance in life, and other circumstances, he was taken up. When brought before Justice Fielding, he was there known to be the person charged with forgeries upon the bank at Darlington. The particular forgery now charged on him was for making and uttering a note for payment of twenty pounds, with intent to defraud Mr. Mann, of Coventry, and the Bank of England. The note was produced in court, and the witnesses were brought to prove its having been negotiated by him.

This fact being established, the next circumstance in consideration was to prove that the note was absolutely a counterfeit one. This his prosecutors were totally unable to do by any testimony they could adduce, so minutely and so dexterously had he feigned all the different marks. The note itself was not only so made as to render it altogether impossible for any human eyes to perceive a difference; but the very hands of the cashier and the entering clerk were also so counterfeited as entirely to preclude a positive discrimination even by those persons themselves. The water mark in the paper, too, namely, "Bank of England," which the bankers had considered as an infallible criterion of fair notes, a mark which could not be resembled by any possible means, was also hit off by this man, so as to put it out of the power of the most exact observer to perceive a difference. Several paper-makers were of opinion that this mark must have been put on in the making of the paper; but Mathison declared that he put it on afterwards by a peculiar method, known only to himself. The extreme similitude of the fair and false notes had such an effect upon the judge and jury that the prisoner would certainly have been discharged, for want of evidence to prove the counterfeit, if his own information, taken at Fielding's, had not been produced against him, which immediately turned the scale, and he was found guilty.

He was executed at Tyburn, pursuant to his sentence, on July 28th 1779. At the place of execution he made a speech which took up some minutes; wherein he acknowledged his guilt, and hoped for forgiveness from the Almighty. He also warned others to avoid the crime for which he suffered, and forgave his prosecutors.

THE RIOTS OF LONDON.

BEGINNING ON THE 2ND JUNE, 1780, WITH THE EXECUTION OF THE RIOTERS.

The history of London, from its earliest epoch, exhibits the occurrence of no event of a more calamitous nature, or more pregnant with mischief, than the riots of 1780. A commotion so rapid, and so daring in its progress, was perhaps never known. The sovereignty of the King, and the safety of the property of the subject, rested on laws which were unsupported; the magistrates were confessedly intimidated; and all good and loyal citizens were seized with a terror and panic, which were alone dispelled by the restoration of tranquillity through the instrumentality of the military force.

The origin of the riot is ascribed to the passing of an act of Parliament, about two years previously, for "relieving his majesty's subjects, of the Catholic Religion, from certain penalties and disabilities imposed upon them during the reign of William III." A petition to Parliament was framed for its repeal, and a general meeting of a body of people, forming the Protestant Association, headed by Lord George Gordon, was held on the 29th May, at the Coachmakers' Hall, Noble-street, Aldersgate-street. At this meeting the noble lord moved the following resolutions.

"Whereas no hall in London can contain forty thousand persons,

"Resolved,--That this association do meet on Friday next in St. George's-fields, at ten o'clock in the morning, to consider the most prudent and respectful manner of attending their petition, which will be presented the same day to the House of Commons.

"Resolved,--For the sake of good order and regularity, that this association, in coming to the ground, do separate themselves into four divisions, viz.--the London division, the Westminster division, the Southwark division, and the Scotch division.

"Resolved,--That the London division do take place of the ground towards Southwark; the Westminster division second; the Southwark division third; and the Scotch division upon the left, all wearing blue cockades, to distinguish themselves from the papists, and those who approve of the late act in favour of popery.

"Resolved,--That the magistrates of London, Westminster, and Southwark, are requested to attend; that their presence may overawe and control any riotous or evil-minded persons who may wish to disturb the legal and peaceable deportment of his majesty's subjects."

His lordship having intimated that he would not present the petition unless twenty thousand persons attended the meeting, and the resolutions having been published and placarded through the streets, on the day appointed a vast concourse of people from all parts of the City and its environs assembled in St. George's-fields. The main body took their route over London-bridge, marching in order, six or eight in a rank, through the City towards Westminster, accompanied by flags bearing the words "No Popery." At Charing-Cross, the mob was increased by additional numbers on foot, on horseback, and in various vehicles, so that by the time the different parties met together, all the avenues to both houses of Parliament were entirely filled with the crowd. The rabble now took possession of all the passages leading to the House of Commons, from the outer doors to the very entrance for the members; which latter they twice attempted to force open; and a like attempt was made at the House of Lords, but without success in either instance. In the meantime, Lord George Gordon came into the House of Commons with an unembarrassed countenance, and a blue cockade in his hat, after "riding in the whirlwind and directing the storm;" but finding it gave offence he took it out and put it in his pocket; not however before Captain Herbert, of the navy, one of the members, threatened to pull it out; while Colonel Murray, another member, declared that, if the mob broke into the house, he (looking at Lord George) should instantly be the victim.

The petition having been presented, the populace separated into parties, and proceeded to demolish the Catholic chapels, in Duke-street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, and Warwick-street, Golden-square; and all the furniture, ornaments, and altars of both chapels were committed to the flames. After various other outrages, the prison of Newgate was attacked. They demanded from the keeper, Mr. Ackerman, the release of their confined associates: he refused to comply; yet, dreading the consequence, he went to the sheriff's to know their pleasure. On his return he found his house in flames; and the jail itself was soon in a similar situation. The doors and entrances were broken open with crowbars and sledge-hammers; and it is scarcely to be credited with what rapidity this strong prison was destroyed. The public office in Bow-street, and Sir John Fielding's house, adjoining were presently destroyed, and all their furniture and effects, books, papers, &c. committed to the flames. Justice Coxe's house in Great Queen-street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, was similarly treated; and the two prisons at Clerkenwell set open, and the prisoners liberated. The King's Bench Prison, with some houses adjoining, a tavern, and the New Bridewell, were also set on fire, and almost entirely consumed.

The mob now appeared to consider themselves as superior to all authority; they declared their resolution to burn all the remaining public prisons; and demolish the Bank, the Temple, Gray's Inn, Lincoln's Inn, the Mansion House, the royal palaces, and the arsenal at Woolwich. The attempt upon the Bank of England was actually made twice in the course of one day; but both attacks were but feebly conducted, and the rioters easily repulsed, several of them falling by the fire of the military, and many others being severely wounded.

To form an adequate idea of the distress of the inhabitants in every part of the city would be impossible. Six-and-thirty fires were to be seen blazing in the metropolis during the night.

At length the continued arrival of fresh troops, from all parts of the country, within fifty or sixty miles of the metropolis, intimidated the rabble; and soon after the disturbances were quelled.

The Royal Exchange, the public buildings, the squares, and the principal streets, were all occupied by troops; the shops were closed; while immense volumes of dense smoke were still rising from the ruins of consumed edifices.

During the riots, many persons, terrified by the alarming outrages of the mob, fled from London, and took refuge at places at a considerable distance from town. The following account was written by Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Thrale, who had gone into the country for safety; and may not prove uninteresting. The doctor was an eye-witness to many of the scenes which he depicts:--

"On Friday, the 2d of June, the good Protestants met in St. George's Fields, at the summons of Lord George Gordon, and, marching to Westminster, insulted the Lords and Commons, who all bore it with great tameness. At night the outrages began by the demolishing the Mass-house near Lincoln's Inn.

"On Monday, Mr. Strahan, who had been insulted, spoke to Lord Mansfield, who had been insulted too, of the licentiousness of the populace; and his lordship treated it as a very slight irregularity.

"On Tuesday night they pulled down Fielding's house (the public office in Bow-street), and burnt his goods in the street. They had gutted, on Monday, Sir George Saville's house; but the building was saved. On Tuesday evening, leaving Fielding's ruins, they went to Newgate, to demand their companions, who had been seized for demolishing the chapel. The keeper could not release them but by the mayor's permission, which he went to ask. At his return he found all the prisoners released, and Newgate in a blaze. They then went to Bloomsbury, and fixed upon Lord Mansfield's house, which they partly pulled down; and, as for his goods, they totally burnt them. They went to Caen Wood (his lordship's country-seat); but a guard was there before them. They plundered several Papists, and burned a Mass-house, and some dwelling-houses in Moorfields, the same night.

"On Wednesday I walked with Dr. Scott, to look at Newgate, and found it in ruins, with the fire yet glowing. As I went by, the Protestants were plundering the Sessions House at the Old Bailey. There was not, I believe, a hundred; but they did their work at leisure, in full security, without sentinels, and without trepidation, as men lawfully employed in full day. Such is the cowardice of a commercial place!

"On Wednesday they broke open the Fleet Prison, the King's Bench and Marshalsea Prisons, Wood-street Compter, and Clerkenwell Bridewell. At night they set fire to the Fleet and the King's Bench, and I know not how many other places; and one might see the glare of conflagration fill the sky from many parts.--The sight was dreadful. Some people were threatened: Mr. Strahan advised me to take care of myself. Such a time of terror you would have been happy in not seeing.

"The king said in council 'That the magistrates had not done their duty, but that he would do his own;' and a proclamation was published, directing us to keep our servants within doors, as the peace was now to be preserved by force.

"The soldiers were sent out to different parts, and the town is now quiet. They are stationed so as to be everywhere within call; there is no longer any body of rioters, and the individuals are hunted to their holes, and led to prison: Lord George Gordon was last night sent to the Tower.

"Mr. John Wilkes was this day in my neighbourhood, to seize the publishers of a seditious pamphlet.

"Several chapels have been destroyed, and several inoffensive Papists have been plundered: but the high sport was to burn the gaols. This was a good rabble trick. The debtors and the criminals were set at liberty; but of the criminals, as has always happened, many are already retaken; and two pirates have surrendered themselves, and it is expected they will be pardoned.

"Government now acts with its proper force; and we are all now again under the protection of the king and the law. I thought it would be agreeable to you to have my testimony to the public security; and that you would sleep more quietly when I told you that you were safe.

"There has been, indeed, an universal panic, from which the king was the first that recovered. Without the concurrence or assistance of his ministers, or even the assistance of the civil magistrates, he put the soldiers in motion, and saved the town from calamities such as a rabble's government must naturally produce.

"The public has escaped a very heavy calamity. The rioters attempted the Bank on Wednesday night, but in no great numbers; Jack Wilkes headed the party that drove them away. It is agreed, that if they had seized the Bank, on Tuesday, at the height of the pause, when no resistance had been prepared, they might have carried away whatever they had found."

The number of persons killed in this dreadful riot is variously stated. Many persons, strangers to the attempt, were destroyed by the necessarily indiscriminate fire of the soldiers and militia; and although it is impossible to calculate the precise number who lost their lives, from the circumstance of many being carried off by their friends, it is believed to be about 500.

Lord George Gordon, the leader and instigator of these riots, was subsequently tried in the Court of King's Bench, and by some good fortune escaped conviction. There was little doubt that he was occasionally subject to aberrations of intellect. His death took place some years afterwards in the King's Bench Prison. He had been indicted for a libel on Marie Antoinette, the late unfortunate French queen, and the Count d'Ademar, one of the ministers of state, and having been convicted, fled from punishment; and was afterwards apprehended in Birmingham, attired in the garb of a Jew, with a long beard, &c., where he had undergone circumcision, and had embraced the religion of the unbelievers. He died professing the same faith.

Many of the rioters were apprehended, and having been recognised, were convicted, and suffered death in most instances opposite to the places in which the scenes were enacted, in which they were proved to have taken a part. Among them were many women and boys but there was not one individual of respectability or character. They were all of the lowest class, whose only object was plunder.

Among the rioters, to sum up the account of their infamy and wretchedness, was Jack Ketch himself. This miscreant, whose real name was Edward Dennis, was convicted of pulling down the house of Mr. Boggis, of New Turnstile. The keeper of Tothill-fields' Bridewell would not suffer Jack Ketch to go among the other prisoners, lest they should tear him to pieces. In order that he might hang up his brother rioters, he was granted a pardon!

The following is an extract from the king's speech to both houses of parliament, the 18th of June, soon after the riots were ended:--

"My Lords and Gentlemen,--The outrages committed by bands of lawless and desperate men, in various parts of this metropolis, broke forth with such violence into acts of felony and treason, had so far overborne all civil authority, and threatened directly the immediate subversion of all legal power, the destruction of all property, and the confusion of every order of the state, that I found myself obliged, by every tie of duty and affection to my people, to suppress, in every part, those rebellious insurrections, and to provide for the public safety by the most effectual and immediate application of the force entrusted to me by parliament. I have directed copies of the proclamations issued upon that occasion to be laid before you.

"Proper orders have been given for bringing the authors and abettors of these insurrections, and the perpetrators of such criminal acts, to speedy trial, and to such condign punishment as the laws of their country prescribe, and the vindication of public justice demands.

"Though I trust it is not necessary, yet I think it right, at this time, to renew to you my solemn assurances that I have no other object but to make the laws of the realm, and the principles of our excellent constitution in Church and State, the rule and measure of my conduct; and that I shall ever consider it as the first duty of my station, and the chief glory of my reign, to maintain and preserve the established religion of my kingdoms, and, as far as in me lies, to secure and to perpetuate the rights and liberties of my people."

ABRAHAM DURNFORD AND WILLIAM NEWTON.

EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.

In the case of these men we present a species of robbery different in the plan of its commission from every one yet described.

It was proved, on their trial at the Old Bailey, that they hired an empty house, No. 21, Water-lane, Fleet-street; and, having a bill of exchange lying at the bank of Smith, Wright, and Gray, they directed it for payment at this house. They made preparation for cleaning, in order, as they pretended, to furnish it with despatch; but the landlord, not liking this extraordinary haste, or his new tenants, desired Mrs. Boucher, the mistress of a public-house opposite, to have an eye on their proceedings.

Accordingly, on the day the bill became due, being the 5th of August, 1780, she observed the new tenants, Durnford and Newton, then prisoners at the bar, enter the house, and open the parlour windows. Soon after she saw a third man knock at the door, which was open, and he entered. Watching the event, she heard an uncommon noise, and, stepping over the way to listen, heard the cry of "Murder!" as from a hoarse faint voice, succeeded by a kind of groaning, which very much alarmed her; and, looking through the key-hole, she saw two men dragging a third down the cellar stairs; on which she cried out loudly "They're murdering a man!" She knocked hard at the door, and begged the people in the street to break it open; but none would interfere. Being enraged at their not assisting her, she burst open the window, and was entering the house, when Newton jumped out of the one pair of stairs' window, and was running off; but, on the cry of "Stop thief!" he was instantly taken; Mrs. Boucher seized the other by the throat herself, and dragged him to her own house.

The house was then immediately searched, and in a back cellar was found a man, bound, and nearly choked to prevent his calling out. He proved to be a collecting clerk for Smith, Wright, and Gray, named James Watts. They had robbed him of his pocket-book, and would have murdered him had not the woman saved his life.

Mr. Watts, a young Quaker, aged eighteen, the party robbed and alluded to, would not, according to the doctrines of the particular sect to which he belonged, be sworn, which is required by the law in all cases, so that their conviction rested chiefly on the evidence of Mrs. Boucher; but not a shadow of a doubt existed of their guilt, and they were convicted and executed on the 22nd of November, 1780.

The story of Mr. Watts was that on his knocking at the door, he was admitted immediately, and having entered the house he was collared and seized by two men, whom he afterwards knew to be the prisoners, who attempted to gag him, and forced him down stairs. Fearing that their intention was to murder him, he succeeded in getting from them by an extraordinary effort, and ran to the street-door; but finding it locked he was unable to offer any further opposition to their violence. His screams providentially alarmed Mrs. Boucher, but not until his book, containing upwards of 4000_l._ had been taken from him. It is rather singular that Mr. Watts was himself convicted of robbing his employers in the year 1781, and subjected to two years' imprisonment.

FRANCIS HENRY DE LA MOTTE.

EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.

The offence of this man was one of the most despicable character. A native of France, and in the service of the French king, he lived long in London, employing himself as a spy upon the proceedings of the English government. He occupied elegant lodgings in Bond-street, dressed like a gentleman, kept the best company, and passed for a foreigner of fortune. At length, however, suspicions arose of his real character, and a watch being set upon his motions, they were found to be fully justified, and he was apprehended and committed to the Tower.

On his trial various acts of treason were proved against him, and he was found guilty.

Sentence was immediately pronounced upon him, "that he should be hanged by the neck, but not until he was dead; that he should then be cut down, and his bowels taken out and burnt before his face; and that his head should be taken off, his body cut into four quarters, and be placed at his majesty's disposal."

He was remanded to the Tower, and at the expiration of a fortnight a warrant was issued from the office of the secretary of state for his execution.

The sheriffs demanded his body, on the 27th of July, 1781, of the lieutenant of the Tower, and carried him to Newgate, from thence in about a quarter of an hour they set out with him to Tyburn.

La Motte was dressed in a suit of black. His deportment was manly and serious: he seemed to be totally abstracted from the surrounding multitude, as he scarcely ever took his eyes from a devotional book which he held in his hand.

Upon his arrival at the fatal tree he was immediately removed from the sledge in which he had been conveyed. He then employed some minutes in earnest devotion; after which he twice bowed respectfully to the sheriffs, and turned to the executioner, desiring him immediately to perform his office.

After hanging fifty-seven minutes the body was cut down and laid on a block, when (a fire having been previously kindled) the executioner severed the head from the trunk, and making an incision from his breast, ripped out the heart, which, after being exposed to the surrounding spectators, was thrown into the flames.

The body was then scorched, together with the head, and put into a very handsome coffin, which was delivered to an undertaker for interment.

Amongst other effects of the handiwork of La Motte in favour of his own country, it is said that the attack of a French fleet under the command of Commodore Suffrein upon the British fleet under Commodore Johnstone, in the neutral harbour of Port Praya Road, on its way to the East Indies, whither it was convoying a number of merchantmen, was attributable to him. The English fleet was taken in an unexpected manner. As many as one thousand five hundred of its men are related to have been on shore at the time of the attack; some of whom were employed in collecting water, and others in obtaining exercise, when the Frenchmen hove in sight; and before the necessary arrangements could be made to receive them, forced their way in line into the very midst of the British vessels. Commodore Johnstone, however, with the bravery of a British sailor, succeeded in compelling them to sheer off; but not until he had sustained a loss of upwards of two hundred men. The movements and strength of the English fleets were at that time made no secrets; and La Motte, having obtained the necessary information in the instance in question, conveyed it to his own country through the medium of one Luttorlok, a Dutchman, who succeeded in effecting his escape, while his companion in iniquity suffered an ignominious death.

JOHN DONELLAN, ESQ.

EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF SIR THEODOSIUS BOUGHTON, BART., HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW.

The case of Mr. Donellan is one of a very remarkable nature, and from the character of the testimony produced has been the subject of much conversation and remark amongst persons connected with the professions of medicine and chemistry.

The accused, Mr. Donellan, had been a captain in the army, and was the son of Colonel Donellan. At the age of twelve years he entered into the Royal Regiment of Artillery, with part of which he went to the East Indies in 1754. On his arrival there he changed his service into the 39th foot; but on that regiment being ordered home, he, with many other of his officers, had his majesty's leave to remain in the service of the East India Company, without prejudice to their rank in the army. He then obtained a company, and certainly distinguished himself as a good soldier, not only having been much wounded in the service, but, if his own account may be credited, being singularly instrumental to the taking of Mazulapatam. Being appointed, however, one of the four agents for prize-money, he condescended to receive presents from some black merchants, to whom part of their effects had been ordered to be restored, for which he was tried by a court-martial, and cashiered. He subsequently purchased a share in the Pantheon, where he figured for some time as master of the ceremonies; and after a variety of applications he at length obtained a certificate from the War-office, that he had behaved in the East Indies "like a gallant officer;" in consequence of which he was put upon half-pay in the 39th regiment. But notwithstanding the most strenuous memorials and petitions representing his great services, and insisting that the offence for which he was broke was of a civil nature only, and not cognizable by a court-martial, he never could obtain a restoration into the Company's service. In June, 1777, he married Miss Boughton; and on Friday, March 30th, 1781, he was tried at the assizes at Warwick for the wilful murder of Sir Theodosius Edward Allesley Boughton, Bart., his brother-in-law. The evidence was of such a nature that the fairest mode of stating it will be by repeating it as it appeared on the trial.

Mr. Powell, apothecary of Rugby, deposed that he had attended Sir Theodosius Boughton for two months before his death, on account of a slight complaint of a certain description.

On Wednesday morning, the 27th of February, he was sent for to Lawton Hall, and on his arrival there at a little before nine o'clock, Capt. Donellan conducted him to the apartment of Sir Theodosius. On his entering, he perceived that the baronet was dead, and on his examining the body he concluded that it was about an hour since life had fled. He had some conversation with Captain Donellan with regard to the deceased, and he was told by him that, he had "died in convulsions." He could not recollect the precise nature of the conversation, but the general effect of what Captain Donellan said was, that the deceased gentleman had taken cold.

Lady Boughton, the mother of the deceased, deposed that Sir Theodosius was twenty years old on the 3rd of August last. On his coming of age, he would have been entitled to above 2000_l._ a year; and in the event of his dying a minor, the greater part of his fortune was to descend to his sister, the wife of Mr. Donellan. It was known in the family on the evening of Tuesday, the 26th, that Sir Theodosius was to take his physic the next morning. He used to put his physic in the dressing-room. He happened once to omit to take it; upon which Mr. Donellan said, "Why don't you set it in your outer room? then you would not so soon forget it." After this he several times put the medicines upon his shelf over the chimney-piece in his outer room. On the evening of Tuesday, the 26th, about six o'clock, Sir Theodosius went out fishing, attended only by one servant, Samuel Frost. Witness and Mrs. Donellan took a walk in the garden, and were there above an hour. To the best of her recollection she had seen nothing of Mr. Donellan after dinner till about seven o'clock, when he came out of the house-door in the garden, and told them that "he had been to see them fishing, and that he would have persuaded Sir Theodosius to come in, lest he should take cold, but he could not." Sir Theodosius came home a little after nine, apparently very well; and he went up into his own room soon after, and went to bed. He requested her to call him the next morning and give him his physic.

She accordingly went into his room about seven in the morning, when he appeared to be very well. She asked him "Where the bottle was?" and he said "It stands there upon the shelf." He desired her to read the label, which she accordingly did, and found there was written upon it "Purging draught for Sir Theodosius Boughton." As he was taking it, he observed, "it smelled and tasted very nauseous;" upon which she said "I think it smells very strongly like bitter almonds." He then remarked that "he thought he should not be able to keep the medicine upon his stomach."

Here a bottle was delivered to Lady Boughton, containing the genuine draught, which she was desired to smell at, and inform the Court whether it smelt like the medicine Sir Theodosius took. She answered in the negative. She was then desired to smell at another, containing the draught with the addition of laurel-water, which she said had a smell very much like that of the medicine she gave to Sir Theodosius. Lady Boughton then proceeded with her evidence. In two minutes after Sir Theodosius had taken the draught, he struggled very much. It appeared to her as if it was to keep the draught down. He made a prodigious rattling in his stomach, and guggling; and these symptoms continued about ten minutes. He then seemed as if he was going to sleep, or inclined to dose; and perceiving him a little composed, she went out of the room. She returned in about five minutes after, and to her great surprise found him with his eyes fixed upwards, his teeth clenched, and foam running out of his mouth. She instantly desired a servant to take the first horse he could get and go for Mr. Powell. She saw Mr. Donellan in less than five minutes after. He came into the room where Sir Theodosius lay, and said to her, "What do you want?" She answered that she wanted to inform him what a terrible thing had happened; that it was an unaccountable thing in the doctor to send such a medicine, for if it had been taken by a dog it would have killed him; and she did not think her son would live. He inquired in what way Sir Theodosius then was; and on being told, he asked her where the physic bottle was; on which she showed him the two draughts; when he took up one of the bottles, and said, "Is this it?" She answered "Yes." He then, after rinsing it, emptied it in some dirty water that was in a wash-hand basin; and on his doing so she said, "What are you at? you should not meddle with the bottles." Upon that he snatched up the other bottle and rinsed it, and then he put his finger to it and tasted it. She repeated that he ought not to meddle with the bottles; upon which he replied, that "he did it to taste it." Two servants, named Sarah Blundell and Catherine Amos, afterwards came into the room, and he desired the former to take away the basin and the bottles, and he put the bottles into her hands. The witness, however, took the bottles from her, and set them down, bidding her not to touch them; and the prisoner then desired that the room might be cleaned, and the dirty clothes thrown into the inner room. This being done, the witness turned her back for a moment, on which the prisoner again handed the servant the bottles, and bid her take them away, and she accordingly removed them. Witness soon afterwards went into the parlour, where she found Mr. and Mrs. Donellan; and the former told his wife "that her mother had been pleased to take notice of his washing the bottles, and that he did not know what he should have done, if he had not thought of saying that he put the water into them to put his finger to it to taste." The witness made an answer to this observation, and the prisoner directed his wife to ring the bell in order to call up the servant. When the servant came, he ordered him to send in the coachman; and when he came, the prisoner said, "Will, don't you remember that I set out of these iron gates at seven o'clock this morning?" "Yes, sir," said he. "And that was the first time of my going out; I have never been on the other side of the house this morning: you remember that I set out there this morning at seven o'clock, and asked for a horse to go to the wells?" "Yes, sir." Mr. Donellan said, "then you are my evidence." The servant answered, "Yes, sir." She did not recollect that the prisoner made any observation. The witness further said that Mr. Donellan received a letter from Sir William Wheeler, desiring the body might be opened, and that he showed her his answer to this letter. She told him he had better let it alone, and not to send such a letter as that; but she did not tell him the reason of her disliking it. He replied, that "it was necessary to send an answer, and he would send that." She afterwards attended before the coroner and the jury in order to be examined, when Mr. Donellan also was present; and she mentioned to the jury the circumstance of the prisoner's rinsing the bottles. Being returned to Lawford Hall, the prisoner said to his wife before the witness, that she had no occasion to have told the circumstance of his washing the bottles: she was only to answer such questions as were put to her; and that question had not been asked her. Being asked whether Mr. Donellan did not endeavour to account to her for her son's death, she answered, that when the things were removed in order to be put in the inner room, he said to the maid, "Here, take his stockings; they have been wet; he has catched cold, to be sure: and that might occasion his death." On that she examined the stockings, and there was no mark or appearance of their having been wet. In answer to some further questions, she denied that she or any of the family had ever declined eating of the same dishes that Sir Theodosius did. Mr. Donellan, indeed, had recommended to her not to drink out of the same cup, because he was affected with a certain disorder; nor to touch the bread he did, because there might be arsenic about his fingers, as he used that poison when he was fishing.

Catherine Amos corroborated the testimony of her mistress, and said, that she was called up stairs to the room where Sir Theodosius lay, at the time when the surgeons were engaged in opening the body, and she heard Mr. Donellan say "that there was nothing the matter; and that it was a blood-vessel which broke, which had occasioned the death of his brother-in-law." About a fortnight afterwards Mr. Donellan brought her a still, which had been recently washed, and he desired her to put it into the oven to dry, in order that it might not rust.

Mr. Kerr, surgeon of Northampton, deposed, that he attended Sir Theodosius when he was at Mr. Jones's. His disorder was so slight that he did not think it a subject of medicine at all. He ordered him some lotion to wash with, and dissuaded him from the use of medicine.

Dr. Rattray, of Coventry, deposed, that in consequence of an anonymous note which he received, and which desired him to bring Mr. Wilmer with him, in order to open the body of Sir Theodosius Boughton, they went together, and met Mr. Bucknell, Mr. Powell, and Mr. Snow, in Newbold churchyard. Mr. Bucknell opened the body. The witness then proceeded to describe the external appearances of the body, and its appearances in the dissecting. He was asked whether, as he had heard the evidence of Mr. Powell and Lady Boughton, he could, from that evidence, totally independent of the appearances he had described, form a judgment as to the cause of the death of Sir Theodosius. He answered, that, exclusive of these appearances, he was of opinion, from the symptoms that followed the taking of the draught, that it was poison, and the certain cause of his death. Being desired to smell at the bottle, and asked what was the noxious medicine in it, he said it was a distillation of laurel-leaves, called laurel-water. Here he entered into a detail of several experiments on animals, tending to show the instantaneous and mortal effects of the laurel-water. He knew nothing in medicine that corresponded in smell with that mixture, which was like that of bitter almonds. He further said that the quantity of laurel-water contained in the bottle shown to him was sufficient to be the death of any human creature; and that the appearances of the body confirmed him in his opinion that the deceased was poisoned, so far as, upon the viewing a body so long after the death of the subject, one could be allowed to form a judgment upon such appearances.

Mr. Wilmer and Dr. Parsons, professor of anatomy at Oxford, confirmed the evidence of Dr. Rattray.

Dr. Ashe, of Birmingham, was of opinion, from the symptoms described, that the deceased died by poison. If the laurel-water were distilled strong enough to collect the essential oil, a tea-spoonful of it would destroy animal life in a few seconds; and he believed as strong a poison might be made from bitter almonds.

Mary Lymnes deposed, that she had been servant to Lady Boughton. Mr. Donellan was in the habit of distilling roses occasionally, and he kept his still in an apartment which was called his room, and in which he slept when Mrs. Donellan lay in.

Francis Amos, gardener to Lady Boughton, deposed, that he was with Sir Theodosius the whole time he was fishing, the night before he died. Mr. Donellan was not there. Two or three days after Sir Theodosius died, he brought him a still to clean; it was full of wet lime. He said he used the lime to kill fleas. The witness used to gather lavender for him to distil. In the garden there were laurels, bays, and laurustinus.

William Crofts, one of the coroner's jury, deposed, that on the examination of Lady Boughton, when she said that "Captain Donellan rinsed the bottle," he saw the captain catch her by the gown, and give her a twitch.

John Darbyshire deposed, that he had been a prisoner in Warwick jail for debt; that Mr. Donellan and he had a bed in the same room for a month or five weeks. He remembered to have had a conversation with him about Sir Theodosius being poisoned. On his asking him whether the body was poisoned or not, he said, "There was no doubt of it." The witness said, "For God's sake, captain, who could do it?" He answered, "It was amongst themselves; he had no hand in it." The witness asked, "Whom he meant by themselves?" He said, "Sir Theodosius himself, Lady Boughton, the footman, and the apothecary." The witness replied, "Sure, Sir Theodosius could not do it himself!" He said he did not think he did--he could not believe he would. The witness answered, "the apothecary could hardly do it--he would lose a good patient; the footman could have no interest in it; and it was unnatural to suppose that Lady Boughton would do it." He then said, "how covetous Lady Boughton was! she had received an anonymous letter the day after Sir Theodosius's death, charging her plump with poisoning him; that she called him and read it to him, and she trembled; she desired he would not let his wife know of that letter, and asked him if he would give up his right to the personal estate, and to some estates of about two hundred pounds a year, belonging to the family." The conversation was about a month after the captain came into the jail. At other times he said, "that it was impossible he could do a thing that never was in his power."

This being the chief evidence, the prisoner in his defence pleaded a total ignorance of the fact, and several respectable characters bore testimony to his integrity. The jury, however, found him guilty, and he received sentence of death.

At seven o'clock on the next day, the 2nd of April, 1781, he was carried to the place of execution at Warwick, in a mourning-coach, followed by a hearse and the sheriff's officers in deep mourning. As he went on he frequently put his head out of the coach, desiring the prayers of the people around him.

On his arrival at the fatal spot he alighted from the coach, and, ascending a few steps of the ladder, prayed for a considerable time, and then joined in the usual service with the greatest appearance of devotion: he next in an audible tone of voice addressed the spectators to this effect:--That, as he was then going to appear before God, to whom all deceit was known, he solemnly declared that he was innocent of the crime for which he was to suffer; that he had drawn up a vindication of himself, which he hoped the world would believe, for it was of more consequence to him to speak truth than falsehood, and he had no doubt but that time would reveal the many mysteries that had arisen in his trial.

After praying fervently some time he let his handkerchief fall--a signal agreed upon between him and the executioner--and was launched into eternity. When the body had hung the usual time it was put into a black coffin, and conveyed to the Town Hall to be dissected.

It is almost needless to inform our readers, that the poison with which the unfortunate Sir Theodosius was murdered was prussic acid, at that time only recently introduced and little known.

DAVID TYRIE.

EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.

The charge against this malefactor was that of sending intelligence of our naval affairs to France during the time of war. The prisoner was by birth a Scotchman, and having lived as a clerk in the service of a Mr. Powell for five years, he entered into business for himself, but was so far unsuccessful as to be made a bankrupt. He subsequently obtained a situation in the Navy Office, Portsmouth, where he was most traitorously guilty of the offence imputed to him.

He was tried at Winchester, by virtue of a special commission, on the 10th of August, 1782, when the charge alleged against him was supported by the following testimony.

Maria Harvey proved that a bundle of papers, the property of Tyrie, had been delivered to her by a Mrs. Askew, about the 13th of February; that the particular charge given with them had raised her curiosity to inquire into the contents of the bundle. She had been induced in consequence to open them, and thinking that the contents were of a dangerous nature, she carried them to a Mr. Page, in Westminster, who being of the same opinion, they were conveyed to the office of the secretary of state. The papers on being examined proved to be copies of papers called the "Navy Progresses;" being a list of all the ships of the navy, the situation and state of repair of each, &c. To these were added remarks on their destination, a description of the dock-yards at Portsmouth, Plymouth, and all the public, and even of several private, docks. They also contained a plan, by which it was proposed to furnish a person in France with intelligence on very moderate terms, when the importance of the object was considered; the particulars were, an express to be employed which would travel four hundred and fifty miles, to be paid at thirteen pence per mile; a monthly salary of five or six guineas to a person at each of the dock-yards; also a salary of two or three guineas to a man in the lesser yards. There were a number of other papers produced, all going to the purpose of giving information to the enemies.

Captain William James also proved that Tyrie had bargained with him to go to Boulogne to purchase wines. He had agreed to pay him fifteen guineas in money for the voyage, and to provide him with a letter of credit for fifty pounds to trade with. Upon his being about to sail, the prisoner delivered to him a packet of letters for the commandant of the port, and a passport for Boulogne or Cherbourg; but feeling that it was not proper to carry letters to the French coast in time of war, he consulted a Captain Harrison upon the propriety of doing so. The latter advised him against it, and they opened the packet: it contained five letters, which gave an account of the sailing of some frigates to intercept a fleet of French transports; a particular account of the departure of the East and West India fleets, together with the names and strength of their respective convoys, besides other important information of the same character. One of these letters, it appeared, was signed by the prisoner, in his own name, and the others in the name of Croix; and it was proved that the whole of them, as well as the papers produced by Mrs. Harvey, were in his handwriting.

The case having been left to the jury for their consideration, they immediately returned a verdict of guilty.

Mr. Justice Heath then passed upon the unhappy prisoner the sentence of the law, which was the same as that in the case of La Motte, which has very recently been alluded to, and which was subsequently carried out in its fullest terms.

The prisoner behaved during his trial with remarkable composure, and met his fate without any apparent emotion.

WILLIAM WYNNE RYLAND.

EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.

In the execution of this unhappy man, the world may be said to have sustained a severe loss; for Mr. Ryland was an engraver of first-rate abilities, and of very considerable celebrity. He was a native of Wales, and his father having been patronised by the Welch baronet, Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, he was named after that individual. While yet young, he displayed considerable talent, and in the early part of his apprenticeship he engraved a head of his godfather in a style which betokened unusual taste and power. Having completed his term, he visited the French and Italian schools; and in the former obtained the honorary medal, which was presented to him in Paris. On his return to England, he introduced the admired art of engraving in imitation of chalk drawings; and soon after George III. had ascended the throne, he was appointed by him to the situation of his engraver, with a salary of two hundred pounds a year; and the queen added one hundred pounds a year more out of her privy purse, as a testimony of her approbation of his extraordinary talents.

A few years previous to the fatal act for which he suffered, Mr. Ryland entered into partnership with a Mr. Bryer, and they jointly opened a shop in Cornhill, where they carried on a very extensive trade in prints; the former still continuing to exercise his abilities in the art of engraving. But although their business was productive of great profit, several heavy losses, occurring almost at the same time, so deranged their pecuniary affairs, that a bankruptcy ensued.

Some years after this failure, Mr. Ryland, on his own separate account, opened a print-shop in the Strand, where he had every prospect of success; but being fond of a private life, he quitted his business, and retired to Pimlico, and thence to Knightsbridge, where, by one fatal act, he entirely ruined his reputation as a man; but his name, as an artist, will ever stand in the highest estimation. At this time Mr. Ryland had recovered his losses in trade, and was bequeathed shares in the Liverpool Water Works, which were then deemed to be worth ten thousand pounds: his business was worth two thousand pounds a year, and his stock was valued at ten thousand pounds more. Such was his own statement of his property, in his defence on his trial; and it was supposed that, in order to engross the remaining shares in his Liverpool concern, he committed the forgery for which he suffered.

The forged instruments so exactly resembled the real bills that it was scarcely possible to know one from the other; but it being discovered that two bills of the same tenor and date were out, and consequently that one of them must prove a forgery, suspicion fell so strong on Ryland that he was induced to secrete himself, and a reward was offered for his apprehension. He went in disguise to Stepney, and took an obscure lodging at the hovel of one Richard Freeman, a cobbler, accompanied by Mrs. Ryland, the wretched partner of his misfortune, passing as Mr. and Mrs. Jackson; and there he continued for some time to evade the search after him, till one fatal step of the unfortunate woman who was watching over his safety caused his apprehension. She took, unconscious of danger, one of her husband's shoes to the cobbler to be mended, with the name of "Ryland" on the inside of it. This was fatal: the cobbler, in order to obtain the reward, delivered up his lodger.

When the officers of justice went to apprehend Ryland, they found him in a corner of the room on his knees, and heard a noise like a guggling in his throat, and upon approaching him they found that he had attempted suicide. He had a razor in his hand, and a basin stood before him; but the wound which he had inflicted did not prove mortal.

On the 20th July, 1783, he was arraigned at the bar of the Old Bailey, on an indictment charging him with feloniously forging and uttering a certain bill of exchange for 210_l._ sterling, purporting to be a bill drawn by the gentlemen of the factory at Fort George, Madras, on the Hon. East India Company, with intent to defraud the said Company, &c.

The solicitor to the East India Company, who prosecuted the prisoner, endeavoured, by several proofs, to bring home the charge to the accused; but, though forgery was manifest, yet it was so nice a point to distinguish the true bill from the false one, that it was, during the trial, supposed that they could not convict him, until Mr. Whatman, paper-manufacturer at Maidstone, appeared as a witness.

Mr. Whatman deposed that the paper of the forged bill was of his manufacture. He then explained to the Court his reasons for thinking so: the moulds, he said, in which the paper of the bill was made, were received by him in February, 1780, but were not used before the December following: they were then worked with; and the first paper sent to London made by them was on the 27th of April, 1781: but he was convinced that the paper on which the bill was written was not sent before the 3d of May, 1782; and the way by which he knew it was, that there were defects in it, which exactly agreed with those in the sheets of paper which he produced, and which had been made by him at that period. It was further proved that the instruments bore date antecedent to the time of the paper being made; and this evidence being conclusive, in spite of the prisoner's arguments that his fortune being ample he had no reason to commit the offence imputed to him, he was found guilty.

He was executed at Tyburn on the 29th August, 1783, being the last person who suffered by the hands of the executioner at that place.

CHRISTOPHER TRUSTY, AND OTHERS.

EXECUTED FOR RETURNING FROM TRANSPORTATION.

The year 1783 crowded the prisons of England to a degree never before known, though the offences of the prisoners were not distinguished by any particular enormity, and were generally devoid of that interest which entitles them to a place in our Calendar.

Of these numerous offenders, one hundred and fifty were proceeding to North America, on board the Swift transport, pursuant to their sentence, when they rose on the captain and crew, in the Downs, on the 30th of August, and, after confining them, got on shore at Deal, and all made their escape.

On this intelligence reaching London, Mr. Justice Blackborow ordered the constables attending at his office to search for the fugitives in the different places of iniquitous resort. Having armed themselves each with cutlasses, Redgrave, Season, and Isaacs, accordingly went to a house in Onslow-street, Saffron-hill, where, in one room, they found five returned transports, two of whom ran up stairs, and escaped by lowering themselves from a back window, by means of the bed-clothes: but the others, arming themselves, one with a poker, another with a shovel, and a third with a clasp-knife, having a blade about six inches long, as with one voice, cried out "Cut away! we shall be hanged, if taken; and we will die on the spot, rather than submit!" All expostulation proving fruitless, the officers attempted to seize them, upon which a dreadful conflict ensued, and many wounds were given and received, but at length the villains surrendered, and were conveyed before Mr. Blackborow for examination. Being asked by the magistrate by what means they had procured their liberty, they acknowledged that they had run the ship on shore; adding, that to recover their liberty was not difficult, as, in compassion of their sufferings, the captain permitted eighteen or twenty convicts to be upon deck at one time, unfettered: that, on the third day of being thus indulged, they (the prisoners), and others who were upon deck, liberated the rest; and, having confined the captain and crew, ran the vessel on the sands, and got on shore in the two long-boats: that no cruelty was exercised upon any part of the crew, nor any property stolen from the vessel, except that some of the convicts obliged the sailors to change clothes with them: that they concealed themselves in hedges and ditches till night, and then took different routes: that they collected half-a-crown among themselves, which they gave to a countryman for conducting them to Rye, whence they walked up to London, where they had arrived but a very short time before they were apprehended.

In the September sessions, at the Old Bailey, Christopher Trusty, and twenty-three others, were capitally convicted of the offence of being found at large in this kingdom before the term for which they were ordered to be transported had expired, and received judgment of death.

Six of the ringleaders, viz. Charles Thomas, William Matthews, Thomas Millington, Christopher Trusty, David Hart, and Abraham Hyams, were selected for immediate execution, and were hanged on the 22d of September, sentence having been passed upon them on the 20th.

No fewer than fifty-four prisoners received sentence of death on the same day, in many of whose cases the extreme penalty of the law was subsequently inflicted.

SAMUEL HARRIS AND JOHN NORTH.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

At the Admiralty sessions, held on the 11th of November, 1784, these men were tried for the wilful murder of John M'Nier, one of the mariners belonging to his majesty's cutter the Nimble, in the service of the Customs.

On the trial it appeared that on the night of the 30th of April last, it being clear moonlight, a vessel was observed at about two miles distance from Deal, hovering or standing in towards the shore, which was supposed to be a smuggler. Lieutenant Bray, commander of the Nimble, being acquainted with the fact, manned three boats, and proceeded to speak to her, and, coming within hail, told them his name and business, which was to board and search her. He was answered by many voices with imprecations, bidding him keep off; and a volley was instantly fired into his boat, whereby M'Nier, one of the crew, received a shot in his right breast, near the pap, of which he instantly died. Lieutenant Bray then proceeded to board the vessel, which proved to be the Juliet lugger, of Deal, (laden with about four hundred tubs or half-ankers of spirits,) but he received another volley: he however persisted, and boarded the lugger, when an engagement began, in which some men fell. North leaped overboard, but was taken, and Harris was found concealed in the hold. He said that he was only a passenger, and had been waiter at the assembly-house at Margate, where he was then going; but unluckily for him he had on a pair of trousers and a seaman's jacket, in the pockets of which were found several musket and pistol balls.

On this evidence the prisoners were found guilty; and on the morning of the 13th, two days after conviction, they were taken from the cells of Newgate, put into a cart, and conveyed to the gallows, which was erected on a platform at Execution Dock, and there executed.

CHARLES PRICE.

CHARGED WITH FORGERY.

The subject of this narrative was born about the year 1730, in London--his father lived in Monmouth-street, and carried on the trade of a salesman in old clothes, and there he died, in the year 1752, of a broken heart, occasioned, it is said, by the bad conduct of his children.

In early life Price exhibited those traits of duplicity, which were manifested in his subsequent career, frequently defrauding his father, and disposing of the property, which he carried off to the Jews, disguised in his brother's clothes. By this means his brother was occasionally chastised in his place, while he escaped unpunished.

The following anecdote of his ingenuity is highly characteristic of his disposition. His father, tired of his tricks and knaveries, put him apprentice to a hosier in St. James's-street, but even here he was unable to restrain his appetite for fraud. Having managed, on the occasion of one of his visits to his home, to carry off a suit of clothes of elegant workmanship, he dressed himself with becoming taste, and, thus disguised, proceeded to his master's shop. Calling himself the Hon. Mr. Bolingbroke, he selected a variety of silk stockings of beautiful texture, undiscovered by his employer, and on quitting the house, he desired that the goods should be sent to him at Hanover House in an hour's time, when he promised that he would pay for them. Being perfectly aware that it would be his duty to carry home the goods, Price immediately stripped himself of his disguise, and, returning to his master's residence, was directed to convey the parcel to Hanover House. He soon came back declaring that Mr. Bolingbroke was out, and that he had left the stockings with the bill; but it being speedily ascertained that they had been lodged with a pawnbroker instead of the supposed customer, and his ingenious scheme being discovered, he was dismissed from his employment.

He had not been long at liberty, before he sailed for Holland, and there assuming the name of Johnson, he obtained a situation as clerk in the counting-house of a merchant, by means of a forged letter of introduction. Having debauched his master's daughter, and carried off a considerable sum of money, he thought it prudent to return to England; but having there soon expended the proceeds of his fraud in dissipation, he was again thrown upon the world.

His wits, however, were not exhausted, nor did they ever slumber long. He determined upon a trial to establish a brewery, by obtaining a partner with money; and as a first step towards it, in the year 1775, he issued the following curious advertisement:--

"Wanted,--A partner of character, probity, and extensive acquaintance, upon a plan permanent and productive. Fifty per cent. without risk, may be obtained. It is not necessary he should have any knowledge of the business, which the advertiser possesses to its fullest extent; but he must possess a capital of between five hundred and one thousand pounds to purchase materials, with which, to the knowledge of the advertiser, a large fortune must be made in a very short time.

"Address to P. C., Cardigan Head, Charing Cross.

"P. S. None but principals, and those of liberal ideas, will be treated with."

To this advertisement the famous comedian, Samuel Foote, paid attention. Eager to seize what he thought a golden opportunity, he advanced the sum of five hundred pounds for a brewery; we need not add, that the sum soon disappeared, and Foote retired from the concern, having gained nothing but experience and disappointment. Price, however, had the impudence to apply to him again, wishing him to unite in the baking trade; but the comedian archly replied, "As you have brewed, so you may bake; but I'll be cursed if ever you bake as you have brewed!"

After this unfortunate business, Mr. Price turned methodist preacher, and in this character defrauded several persons of large sums of money. Advertising in order to get gentlemen wives, he swindled a person of the name of Wigmore of fifty guineas, for which he was indicted; but having refunded a part, he effected his escape.

With astonishing impudence he afterwards again set up a brewery in Gray's Inn Lane; and after various frauds, he became a bankrupt in 1776. Ever fruitful in resources, he set out for Germany, where he engaged in some smuggling scheme, for which he was imprisoned; but he returned to England, having managed to pocket three hundred pounds in the course of his trip. A brewery in Lambeth was then again tried, but ineffectually; and he was afterwards successively a begging-letter impostor and a lottery office keeper; and then he assumed the trade by which he qualified himself to become the subject of remark in the Newgate Calendar. Having leagued himself with a number of adventurers whose business consisted in making and selling forged notes, he entered into their schemes; but, fearful of being himself employed in the dangerous act of putting off the notes, in the year 1780, memorable for the riots in London, he assumed the name of Brant, and engaged a plain, simple, honest fellow, as a servant, whom he converted into the instrument of passing his forged notes without detection. He advertised for this servant, and conducted himself in a manner truly curious towards him. The young man, having answered the advertisement, heard nothing relative to it for about a week. One evening, however, just about dusk, a coachman was heard inquiring for him, saying there was a gentleman over the way in a coach who wanted to speak to him. On this the young fellow was called, and went to the coach, when he was desired to step in; and there he found an apparently old man, affecting the foreigner, seemingly very much afflicted with the gout, as he was completely wrapped up in flannel about the legs, and wearing a camlet surtout, buttoned over his chin, close up to his mouth; a large black patch over his left eye; and almost every part of his face so hid, that the young fellow could scarcely discover a feature except his nose, his right eye, and a part of that cheek. The young man's character was found to suit, and he was engaged; but his surprise may easily be imagined, when on his next seeing his employer, he found him a thin, genteel-looking young man.

The simplicity of the young man whom he had thus duped into his service was such, that Price found no difficulty whatever in negotiating through his means notes to the amount of about fifteen hundred pounds, which were principally expended in the purchase of lottery-tickets and shares; but the unfortunate wretch was eventually taken into custody, and was left by his employer to suffer all the fears likely to arise in his mind upon the contemplation of the supposed consequences of his crime. His innocence was, however, at length proved, and he was set at liberty, but not until he had suffered nearly twelve months' imprisonment. His late master in the mean time had retired from public life, and nothing more was heard of him until the year 1782, when, having exhausted the proceeds of his former villanies, he was compelled to come forth again to renew his depredations on the public. He began by employing a lad named Power as the instrument of his minor proceedings, but emboldened by success, through the medium of his disguises, he succeeded occasionally in obtaining very large sums. The following anecdote is related of the success with which he carried on his trade. He had frequently been at the shop of a Mr. Roberts, grocer, in Oxford Street, where he now and then bought a few articles, and took many opportunities of showing his importance. Upon one occasion he called in a hackney-coach, disguised as an old man, and bought some few articles: a day or two afterwards he repeated his visit; and on a third day, when he knew Mr. Roberts was not in the way, went again, with his face so painted that he appeared to be diseased with the yellow-jaundice. The shopman, to whom he enumerated his complaints, kindly informed him of a prescription for that disorder, by which his father had been cured of it. Price gladly accepted of the receipt, promising that if it succeeded, he would call again, and handsomely reward him for his civility: in conformity with which he entered the shop a few days afterwards, apparently perfectly free from the complaint, and acknowledged his great obligations to the shopman; after which he expatiated freely on his affluent circumstances, the short time he had to live, and the few relations he had to leave his property to, and made him a present of a ten-pound bank-note. It will naturally be conceived this was a forgery, but it had the desired effect with Price; for at the same time he said he wanted cash for another, which was a fifty-pound note. This the obliging and unsuspecting shopman got change for at an opposite neighbour's. The next day, during Mr. Roberts's absence, he called again, and entreated the lad to get small notes for five other notes of fifty pounds each: the lad, however, telling him his master was not at home, Price begged he would take them to his master's bankers', and there get them changed. This request was immediately complied with. The bankers, Messrs. Burchall and Co., complied with Mr. Roberts' supposed request, immediately changed them, and small notes were that day given to Price for them.

He practised his frauds with equal effect upon Mr. Spilsbury, the vender of a celebrated quack-medicine, with whom he traded in the name of Wilmot, and upon many others; and so great was his success, that in one day he negotiated sixty 10_l._ notes, and besides, exchanged fourteen 50_l._ for seven 100_l._ notes of the Bank of England.

In his last attempt on the Bank, which ended in his detection, he assumed the name of Palton, pretending he was an Irish linen factor, and employed two young men to circulate his notes, whilst he, still greatly disguised, kept back in obscurity.

By means of a pawnbroker, he was found out with great difficulty; and on his seizure he solemnly declared his innocence, and before the magistrate behaved with considerable insolence. His detection took place on the 14th of January, 1786; and notwithstanding his disguises, he was soon sworn to by more persons than one; and seeing no way to escape, he pretended, to his wife in particular, great penitence. The Bank was fully intent on his prosecution, and there appeared no doubt of his dying by the hands of the executioner; but even this he managed to avoid, for one evening he was found hanging against the post of his door, in the apartment allotted him in Tothillfields' Bridewell. In this situation he was discovered by the keeper of the prison, who cut him down quite dead, and found in his bosom three letters; in one of which, addressed to the directors of the Bank, he confessed everything relative to the forgery, and the manner of circulating the notes; another, addressed to his wife, was written in a most affecting style; and in the third, directed to the keeper, he thanked him for the very humane treatment he had experienced during his confinement.

A coroner's jury was summoned, as usual in such cases, and returned a verdict of "self-murder;" in consequence of which his body was thrown into the ground in Tothillfields, and a stake driven through it.

In a box belonging to Price were found, after his death, two artificial noses, very curiously executed, in imitation of nature. These, it is obvious, he occasionally wore as a part of the various disguises by which he had been enabled so long to elude the hand of justice. The counterfeit plates were found buried in a field near Tottenham-court Road, the turf being replaced on the spot, and, with the rolling-press, and other materials found at his lodgings, were ordered by Sir Sampson Wright, the presiding magistrate, to be destroyed.

His wife, who had been confined with him as an accomplice, and by whom he had a family of eight children, was ordered to be discharged immediately after his burial.

HENRY STERNE, alias GENTLEMAN HARRY.

CONVICTED OF STEALING THE DUKE OF BEAUFORT'S "GEORGE."

This offender was one of the class called "gentlemen pickpockets." Being a fellow of good address, and of tolerable education, he managed by some means to intrude himself into decent society, where he found it easy to carry on his schemes of depredation.

He was indicted on the 12th of September, 1787, for robbing his Grace the Duke of Beaufort of his "George," meaning the star of the order of the garter, on the 4th of June previous, which was the King's birthday.

From the evidence of his grace, it appeared that he was quitting his majesty's levee on the day in question, followed by his servants, his "George" being pendent from his neck by the ribbon; when, on his reaching the corner of St. James's-street, he found himself suddenly surrounded by a great crowd of people, who pushed him about. He did not at first understand the meaning of it, when presently a thought struck him that the object was to rob him, and he found that his "George" was gone. He called for his servants, who directly came up, and his grace pointed out a man in black as the thief. He was searched, however, but nothing found; and then the prisoner being seized, the ornament was discovered in his pocket.

The prisoner denied the charge imputed to him, and hoped that the jury would not suffer any reports which they had heard of his character to operate to his prejudice; but he was found guilty, and sentenced to be transported for seven years to Botany Bay.

SAMUEL BURT.

CONVICTED OF FORGERY.

Mr. Burt, previously to the occurrence for which he was tried and executed, bore a most exemplary character. The particulars of the forgery of which he was guilty do not appear to have come out on the trial, when the prisoner pleaded guilty; but his object in its commission, as well as in refusing to deny his guilt, may be collected from the manner in which he addressed the Court on his being called up for judgment.

He said, "My lord,--I am too sensible of the crime I have committed, and for which I justly deserve to suffer, not to know that I have forfeited my life, and I wish to resign it into the hands of Him who gave it. To give my reasons for this would only satisfy an idle curiosity: no one can feel a more sensible, heartfelt satisfaction in the hopes of shortly passing into eternity, wherein, I trust, I shall meet with great felicity. I have no desire to live; and as the jury and court in my trial thought proper to recommend me to mercy, if his majesty should in consequence thereof grant me a reprieve, I here vow in the face of Heaven, that I will put an end to my own existence as soon as I can. It is death that I wish for, because nothing but death can extricate me from the troubles in which my follies have involved me."

Sentence was then passed in due form, but we do not find any entry of its having been carried out; and it is therefore very likely that the recommendation of the jury, alluded to by the prisoner, was attended to. The last notice which is taken of the case in the books is in the following terms:--"Samuel Burt, the unhappy youth who, under a depression of mind, abhorring the guilt of suicide, committed a forgery in order to suffer death by the law, was respited;" dated December, 1787.

From the observations made by the prisoner, it is pretty evident that he was labouring under a species of insanity, by which he was persuaded that he must suffer death. The following instances of a similar description are of a character far more melancholy, inasmuch as that in each the murder of a fellow-creature was the means adopted by the unhappy maniac, for the offenders can be considered in no other light, to secure his own death.

On the 4th of September, 1760, when North America was a British province, Mr. Robert Scull and several gentlemen were playing at billiards in Philadelphia, when Captain Bruluman, late of the Royal American regiment, came into the room, and, without the smallest provocation, levelled a loaded gun, which he had brought with him, and shot Mr. Scull through the body just after he had struck his ball.

It afterwards appeared that this desperate man had been brought up a silversmith; and that having entered the army, he became an officer in the Royal American regiment, but was broke on his being detected in counterfeiting or uttering base money. He then returned to Philadelphia, and growing insupportable to himself, and yet unwilling to put an end to his own life, he determined upon the commission of some crime, for which he would certainly be hanged by the law.

Having formed this design, he loaded his gun with a brace of balls, and asked his landlord to go shooting with him, intending to murder him before his return; but the landlord, fortunately for himself, being particularly engaged at home, escaped the danger. He then went out alone, and on the way met a man whom he was about to kill; but recollecting that there were no witnesses to prove him guilty, he suffered the man to pass.

He next proceeded to the tavern, where he drank some liquor; and hearing people playing at billiards in a room above that in which he sat, he went up stairs, and entered into conversation with the players in apparent good humour. In a little time he called the landlord, and desired him to hang up the gun. Mr. Scull having struck his antagonist's ball in one of the pockets, Bruluman said to him, "Sir, you are a good marksman; now I'll show you a fine stroke." He immediately took down his gun, levelled it, deliberately took aim at Mr. Scull (who imagined him in jest), and shot both the balls through his body. He then went up to the dying man, who was still sensible, and said to him, "Sir, I have no malice or ill will against you; I never saw you before; but I was determined to kill somebody that I might be hanged, and you happen to be the man; and I am very sorry for your misfortune." Mr. Scull had just time left in this world to send for his friends, and make his will. He forgave his murderer, and if it could be done, desired he might be pardoned; but Bruluman died on the gallows, exulting in his fate.

The same volume from which we make the above extract contains another case of the like nature, and, if possible, more extraordinary. It appears, however, that in this instance the judges of the unfortunate offender treated him as was most proper--as a maniac. The scene of this second murder is not mentioned.

It is stated that a youth of the name of David Williams, when about fifteen years of age, was one day against his wish detained from school by his stepfather, who greatly wanted his assistance on the farm. While thus employed, a log rolled on one of his legs, which injured it to such a degree that it became nearly useless; and by another accident he soon after hurt the other limb, so that he was rendered a cripple before he had attained the years of manhood.

At these misfortunes he continually repined; blamed his stepfather for keeping him that day from school, whereby he received his first injury; and, mortified at his appearance among his comrades, some of whom, he said, ridiculed him, he became weary of the world, and determined to terminate his misfortunes with his life.

For this end suicide and murder presented themselves. The first he thought the most eligible; but then it brought to his mind the horrors of appearing by his own violence before God, for which he feared he should not be pardoned; and therefore he was induced to abandon that for the latter, which he conceived would afford him a better excuse to the Almighty. He familiarised himself with this act of desperation by continually thinking of it; so that in time it became a pleasing subject of contemplation.

The idea of the grief which it must occasion his mother at times almost unbent his resolution; but then the idea of its proving a sweet revenge on his stepfather bore down every other consideration. Thus determined, the next step of this unhappy youth was to select a proper subject on whom the deed should be committed. A grown person or a child was the question. The former, he concluded, must be under sin and guilt; therefore by sudden death and thus unprepared, his damnation might be chargeable to him, and he be doubly guilty: the latter being innocent, he might avoid that charge, and he therefore resolved upon murdering some child.

Now the particular object for this horrid purpose was the next consideration; but he confessed that, though he thought of it more than six months, yet none occurred until within five minutes of his committing his long-determined and bloody deed.

All the morning of the fatal day he said that he felt an unaccountable and far stronger desire to commit murder than before;--to use his own words, "something like hankering after fruit."

At this unfortunate moment he chanced to spy a little boy, named Ira, the son of Mr. Lane, a neighbour, gathering plums; and finding the parents absent, he determined on seizing the opportunity and subject. He instantly took a gun, fired at, and slightly wounded the child in the side of the abdomen. Finding his victim yet alive, he limped to him, led him to the house, placed him upon a bed, and took a station at the door. The poor devoted little Ira had yet strength left to get from the bed, in order to see "whether his father was coming to cure him;" and Williams answered that his father would come by-and-by, and bade him go to bed again and lie still. Again the murderer listened for the dying groan of the boy; but finding his work incomplete, (horrid to relate!) he took an axe, went to the bed, looked upon the innocent child, and while it held up its little hands for help, the monster struck it on the head, and, by repeated blows, chopped it in pieces.

The wretched murderer was a youth of extraordinary mental talents for his years until the fatal gloom overspread him. After the horrid deed was done, he spoke of it with calmness, observing that, though he had often considered the grief he should bring on his own mother, it never occurred to him the distraction it must cause her who bore the murdered child.

His whole intent was to get himself hanged; and he supposed that the palliating circumstances under which the murder was committed would induce the Almighty to forgive him.

Upon his trial he was deemed to be insane, and was treated as such.

THOMAS GORDON, THE YOUNGER.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

Mr. Gordon, the father of this wretched youth, was a surgeon and apothecary in London, from whence he removed his family into Northamptonshire not long before the fatal circumstance, which is about to be described, happened.

Mr. Gordon continued to practise in the country, and soon became envied and disliked from his being a stranger; and the consequence was, that frequent quarrels took place. At length a justice's warrant was obtained against the father on a pretended charge of assault, and the constable went to Mr. Gordon's house in order to apprehend him; but the wife and son told the officer he was not at home. The constable, however, knew that he was in the house and went away, but soon returned with some neighbours, and with them was about to make a forcible entry, when the mother and son opposed them, the latter being armed with a gun. The populace threw stones at the windows, when the mother, in an unlucky moment, bade her son fire: he did so, and killed the constable on the spot.

Both mother and son were tried, and found guilty of the murder; but Baron Thompson, who presided on the bench, observing that the mother was indicted as an accessory before the fact, and that the evidence proved that she was a principal, he had doubts whether she was properly convicted, and therefore reserved the case for the opinion of the twelve judges, who, upon solemn argument, confirmed the sentence against the son, but at the same time adjudged the indictment against the mother to be bad; and the poor youth received sentence of death. He was three times reprieved; from which he hoped, and the world flattered him with an opinion, that his pardon would ultimately follow; but an order at length came for his execution, and although he was in a state of insanity at the time, brought on by the cruel suspense in which he had been kept as to his fate, he was executed at Northampton on the 17th of August, 1789, aged only nineteen years.

THOMAS PHIPPS, ESQ. THE ELDER, AND THOMAS PHIPPS, THE YOUNGER.

EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.

These malefactors were father and son; and their final exit from this life was attended by circumstances of the most heart-rending and melancholy description. The father was a man of good property, and lived on his own estate at Llwyney Mapsis, in Shropshire; and he and his son were indicted for uttering a note of hand for twenty pounds, purporting to be that of Mr. Richard Coleman of Oswestry, knowing the same to have been forged.

It was proved on their trial that Mr. Coleman never had had any transactions with Mr. Phipps that required the signing of any note whatever; that about the Christmas before, Mr. Coleman was served with a copy of a writ at the suit of Mr. Phipps the elder, which action Mr. Coleman defended, and for want of further proceedings on the part of the plaintiff, a non pros. was signed, with two pounds three shillings costs of suit against Phipps. Upon this an affidavit was drawn up and sworn by Phipps the elder, Phipps the younger, and William Thomas, their clerk, for the purpose of moving the Court of Exchequer to set aside the judgment of non pros. and therein they swore that the cause of action was a note of the said Coleman's for twenty pounds, which was given as satisfaction for a trespass by him committed in carrying some hay off the land of one of Mr. Phipps the elder's tenants.

The Court thereupon granted a rule to show cause why the judgment should not be set aside; but Mr. Coleman insisting that the note was a forgery, the present prosecution was instituted against the father, son, and Thomas.

After a full hearing at the assizes at Shrewsbury, the father and son were pronounced "Guilty of uttering and publishing the note, knowing it to be forged;" and William Thomas was found "Not Guilty."

Though convicted on the fullest evidence, the unhappy men, until the morning of their execution, persisted in their innocence; but when about to leave the jail, young Phipps made the following confession: "It was I alone who committed the forgery: my father is entirely innocent, and was ignorant of the note being forged when he published it."

They were taken in a mourning-coach to the place of execution, accompanied by a clergyman and a friend who attended them daily after their condemnation.

On their way to the fatal tree the father said to the son, "Tommy, thou hast brought me to this shameful end, but I freely forgive thee;" to which the son made no reply. It being remarkably wet weather, their devotions were chiefly performed in the coach. When the awful moment arrived, Mr. Phipps said to his son, "You have brought me hither; do you lead the way!" which the youth immediately did, and in the most composed manner ascended the ladder to a temporary scaffold erected for the purpose of their execution, followed by his father.

When their devotions were finished, and the halters tied to the gallows, this most wretched father and son embraced each other, and in a few moments the scaffold fell, and they were hand-in-hand launched into eternity, September the 5th 1789, amid a vast concourse of pitying spectators.

The father was forty-eight, and the son just twenty years of age.

RENWICK WILLIAMS, COMMONLY CALLED "THE MONSTER."

IMPRISONED FOR A BRUTAL AND WANTON ASSAULT ON A FEMALE.

The mind is utterly at a loss to conceive any reason which could urge this unnatural brute to the commission of the crimes which upon his trial were distinctly proved against him. The offence of which he was found guilty was that of making a most wanton and unmanly attack upon an unprotected female, upon whom he inflicted a very severe wound, no provocation whatever having been offered to him. For a considerable time before the apprehension of this offender, a report was very generally prevalent that many young and respectable females had been privately and suddenly wounded in various parts of their person while walking through the streets, in some cases in open day, by a villain, who invariably succeeded in making his escape. Sometimes it was reported that the wound was given at a time when the man approached the lady for the purpose of presenting a nosegay to her; and it was said that, holding the flowers to her nose, he would stab her in the face with a sharp instrument which was concealed among their stems; while at others it was said that the wound was given in the thigh, behind, or in private parts of the person, so that occasionally the most serious injury was inflicted; and an almost universal terror prevailed.

At length a man named Renwick Williams was apprehended, who was distinctly sworn to by a Miss Porter, upon whom he had inflicted a wound; and at the sessions held on the 18th of July 1790, he was put on his trial at the Old Bailey for the offence alleged against him.

The indictment charged that the prisoner, on the 18th of January, with force and arms, in the parish of St. James, on the King's highway upon Anne Porter did make an assault; and that he did unlawfully, wilfully, and maliciously inflict upon her a certain wound, &c. against the peace. A second count charged the said Renwick Williams, that on the same day and year he did unlawfully, wilfully, and maliciously tear, spoil, cut, and deface the garments and clothes--to wit, the cloak, gown, petticoat, and shift of the said Anne Porter, contrary to the statute, and against the peace, &c.

Miss Anne Porter deposed that she had been at St. James's to see the ball on the night of the 18th of January 1790, accompanied by her sister, Miss Sarah Porter, and another lady; that her father had appointed to meet them at twelve o'clock, the hour the ball generally breaks up; but that it ended at eleven, and she was therefore under the necessity either of staying where she was, until her father came, or of returning home at that time. Her father, she said, lived in St. James's-street, and kept a tavern and a cold bath there; and as it was not far, she agreed to go home with her party. As they proceeded up St. James's-street her sister appeared much agitated, and called to her to hasten home, which she and her company accordingly did. Her sister was the first to reach the hall-door, and as the witness turned the corner of the rails she received a blow on the right hip. She turned round and saw the prisoner stoop down: she had seen him before several times, on each of which he had followed close behind her, and used language so gross that the Court did not press on her to relate the particulars.

He did not immediately run away when he struck her, but looked on her face, and she thus had a perfect opportunity of observing him. She had no doubt, she said, of the prisoner being the man that wounded her. She supposed that the wound was inflicted with a sharp instrument, because her clothes were cut and she was wounded through them. The prisoner at that time escaped; but on the 13th of June, as she was walking in St. James's Park with her mother and two sisters, and a Mr. Coleman, she saw him again, and being agitated, her alarm was remarked, and the prisoner was eventually secured upon her pointing him out.

The evidence of Miss Sarah Porter, the sister of the last witness, was to the same effect. She stated that she was well acquainted with the prisoner's person, and that he had followed her, and talked to her in language the most shocking and obscene. She had seen him four or five different times. On that night when her sister was cut, she saw him standing near the bottom of St. James's-street, and spying her, he exclaimed, "O ho! are you there!" and immediately struck her a violent blow on the side of the head. She then, as well as she was able, being almost stunned, called to her sister to make haste, adding, "Don't you see the wretch behind us?" Upon coming to their own door, the prisoner rushed between them, and about the time he struck her sister, he also rent the witness's gown.

It was proved further, that the prisoner, on his being pointed out by Miss Porter, was followed by Mr. Coleman as far as South Molton-street, where he entered a house, but being followed, his address was demanded. He for some time declined complying with the request which was made, but eventually said that he lived at No. 52, Jermyn-street. Mr. Coleman, however, felt that he ought not to permit him to escape, and he therefore compelled him to accompany him to Miss Porter's house. He at first objected to doing so, on the ground of its being late, but force being used, he was obliged to obey. On his arrival, Miss Anne and Miss Sarah Porter fainted away, exclaiming, "Oh, my God! that is the wretch!" Upon which the prisoner said, "The young ladies' conduct is very strange. They don't take me for the monster who is advertised?" He was assured, however, that he was known to be that person; and he was then conveyed in custody before the magistrates, by whom he was committed for trial. It was also proved that the wound which had been inflicted on Miss Porter was of a very serious description. It was at the beginning, and for two or three inches, only skin deep, but then it suddenly sunk to the depth of four inches, gradually becoming more shallow towards the end. Its length from the hip downwards was nine or ten inches.

The prisoner, being called upon for his defence, begged the indulgence of the Court, in supplying the deficiency of his memory upon what he wished to state from a written paper. He accordingly read as follows:--

"He stood," he said, "an object equally demanding the attention and compassion of the Court. That, conscious of his innocence, he was ready to admit the justice of whatever sufferings he had hitherto undergone, arising from suspicion. He had the greatest confidence in the justice and liberality of an English jury; and hoped they would not suffer his fate to be decided by the popular prejudice raised against him. The hope of proving his innocence had hitherto sustained him.

"He professed himself the warm friend and admirer of that sex whose cause was now asserted; and concluded with solemnly declaring that the whole prosecution was founded on a dreadful mistake, which he had no doubt the evidence he was about to call would clear up to the satisfaction of the Court."

He then called two witnesses, who gave him a good character; and who stated that he was at work for his master, Mr. Mitchell, an artificial flower maker, in Dover-street, Piccadilly, up to the hour of one o'clock on the night in question.

Mr. Justice Buller summed up the case to the jury. Having commented upon the evidence which had been produced, he said that he should reserve the case for the opinion of the twelve judges, for several reasons: first, because this was completely and perfectly a new case in itself; and secondly, because this was the first indictment of the kind that was ever tried. Therefore, although he himself entertained but little doubt upon the first point, yet, as the case was new, it would be right to have a solemn decision upon it. Upon the second point he owned that he entertained some doubts. This indictment was certainly the first of the kind that was ever drawn in this kingdom. It was founded upon the statute of the 6th George I. Upon this statute it must be proved that it was the intent of the party accused, not only to wound the body, but also cut, tear, and spoil the garment:--one part of this charge was quite clear, namely, that Miss Porter was wounded, and her clothes torn. The first question, therefore, for the consideration of the jury would be, whether this was done wilfully, and with intent to spoil the garment, as well as to wound the body. That was a fact for the jury to decide; and if they agreed upon this, then, whether the prisoner was the man who did it. It should be observed, that here there was a wound given, with an instrument that was not calculated solely for the purpose of affecting the body, such, for instance, as piercing or stabbing, by making a hole; but here was an actual cutting, and the wound was of a very considerable length, and so was the rent in the clothes. It was for the jury to decide whether, as both body and clothes were cut, he who intended the end did not also intend the means. He left it to the jury to say, upon the whole case, whether the prisoner was guilty or innocent.

The jury immediately, without hesitation, found the prisoner guilty.

Mr. Justice Buller then ordered the judgment in this case to be arrested, and the recognizances of the persons bound to prosecute to be respited until the December sessions.

At the commencement of the sessions at the Old Bailey, on the 10th of December 1790, Judge Ashurst addressed the prisoner nearly in the following terms:--"You have been capitally convicted, under the statute 6 George I., of maliciously tearing, cutting, spoiling, and defacing the garments of Anne Porter, on the 18th of January last. Judgment has been arrested on two points,--one that the indictment is informal, the other that the statute does not reach the crime. Upon solemn consideration, the judges are of opinion that both the objections are well founded: but, although you are discharged from this indictment, yet you are within the purview of the common law. You are therefore to be remanded to be tried for a misdemeanor."

He was accordingly, on the 13th of the same month, tried at Hicks's Hall for the misdemeanor, in making an assault on Miss Anne Porter.

The trial lasted sixteen hours: there were three counts in the indictment; viz. for assaulting with intent to kill, for assaulting and wounding, and for a common assault.

The same witnesses were then called in support of the charge as appeared on the trial at the Old Bailey; and they gave very clear, correct, and circumstantial evidence, positively swearing to the person of the prisoner.

The prisoner produced two witnesses, Miss Amet and Mr. Mitchell, who attempted to prove an alibi, and the credit of their testimony was not impeached by any contradiction. The question therefore was, to which the jury would give credit; for the evidence on both sides was equally fair and unexceptionable, and the prisoner was acquitted.

The prisoner was again put to the bar at ten o'clock the next morning, and tried on the remaining indictments, on three of which he was found guilty; when the Court sentenced him to two years' imprisonment in Newgate for each, and at the expiration of the time to find security for his good behaviour, himself in two hundred pounds, and two sureties in one hundred pounds each.

EDWARD LOWE AND WILLIAM JOBBINS.

EXECUTED FOR ARSON.

These prisoners were indicted at the Old Bailey sessions for feloniously setting fire to the house of Francis Gilding, in Aldersgate-street, on the 16th of May 1790.

From the evidence of the apprentice of Mr. Gilding, who was an accomplice in the wicked deed, it appeared that he was acquainted with the two prisoners, who were persons of bad character; and that it was determined among them that Mr. Gilding's house, which was the Red Lion Inn, should be set on fire, in order that they might plunder it. Accordingly at about twelve o'clock on the night of Saturday, 16th May, they met in the inn-yard, and Lowe got up into the hay-loft, and placing some combustibles there, set them alight with a pipe, which he was smoking. The fire soon blazed out, and the prisoners were very active in carrying off the goods, which they took away in a cart. The witness was in the act of carrying away a chest of drawers when he was stopped by Lucie, a constable, upon whose evidence he was convicted. He subsequently, however, on condition of his being pardoned, consented to give evidence against the prisoners. This testimony being confirmed by that of other witnesses, the jury returned a verdict of guilty against the prisoners, and on the 2nd November they were brought up to receive judgment. The learned Recorder then addressed them in the following terms: "I hardly know how to find words to express the abhorrence that I feel, or that the public entertains, of the crime of which you stand convicted.--The setting fire to houses in the dead of night, for the purpose of plunder, at the risk of the lives of the inhabitants of a great city, is a crime not yet to be met with upon the records of villany that have been brought forward in this court. As the crime is singular, so the punishment must be marked: I take it it will be so marked, and hope the example will be such, that, if there should be left any persons of the same wicked intentions, they will take example from your fate. As your crime is singular and novel, I hope it will be the only one brought into this court of the same description. You therefore must prepare to die, and consider yourselves as men without hope in this world.--And, give me leave to assure you, that it is my decided opinion that, for an offence so very atrocious as yours, you can never expect salvation in the world to come, unless you will make some reparation to your injured country, and to God, whom you have offended, by a sincere confession of all the offences of which you have been guilty, and by a disclosure of the names of all persons who either have engaged, or are about to engage in crimes so detestable as that of which you stand convicted;--nothing therefore remains, but that I should pray to Almighty God, and it is now my earnest prayer to Him, that you may all obtain forgiveness and remission of your sins."

On the morning of the 20th of November these incendiaries were brought out of Newgate, and placed on a high seat, which had been fixed in the cart to render them more conspicuous to the spectators. They were then conveyed, attended by the Sheriffs and other City officers, to Aldersgate-street, where a temporary gallows was erected opposite the spot where stood the house of Mr. Gilding, to which they had set fire. They arrived at the fatal tree about a quarter before nine o'clock, when Mr. Villette, the Ordinary, went into the cart, and prayed with them for about twenty minutes, after which they were turned off. They both confessed to Mr. Villette the facts for which they had so justly suffered.

Jobbins had been educated at St. Paul's school, was bred a surgeon, and was only nineteen years of age when he suffered. Lowe was about twenty-three years of age.

A boy named Mead was on the 31st August in the ensuing year executed for a similar offence in firing the house of his master, Mr. Walter Cavardine, a publican, in Red Lion-street.

JOSEPH WOOD AND THOMAS UNDERWOOD,

EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.

The whole parties in this case may be literally called children, the malefactors being but fourteen years of age each; and the prosecutor no more than twelve!

Though of this tender age, yet were they convicted as old and daring depredators. So often had they already been arraigned at that bar, where they were condemned, that the judge declared, notwithstanding their appearance, (they were short, dirty, ill-visaged boys,) it was necessary, for the public safety, to cut them off, in order that other boys might learn, that, inured to wickedness, their tender age would not save them from an ignominious fate.

The crime for which they suffered was committed with every circumstance of barbarity. They forcibly took away a bundle, containing a jacket, shirt, and waistcoat, from a little boy, and then fell upon him, and would probably have murdered him, had they not been secured. They had long belonged to a most desperate gang of pickpockets and footpads; but so hardened and obstinate were they, that they would not impeach their companions, though the hopes of mercy were held out to them, on making a confession, so that the villains might have been apprehended.

They were executed at Newgate, July 6th, 1791, apparently insensible of their dreadful situation.

WILLIAM GADESBY,

EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.

In recording the case of this culprit, a Scotch newspaper says, "He was one of the most notorious villains that has figured in the line of roguery in this country for many years; and though only twenty-eight years of age, his criminal exploits appear, both in variety and number, to equal, if not to exceed, the achievements of the most dextrous and grey-headed offender."

As this fellow lived, so he determined to die--with notoriety.

He was brought to the gallows at Edinburgh, February the 20th, 1791, dressed in a suit of white cloth, trimmed with black. The awful ceremony, the dreadful apparatus of death, the surrounding multitude of spectators, appeared not to shake his frame, nor to agitate his mind. He mounted the platform of death with a firm step, and stood with great composure till the apparatus was adjusted; and then, in a collected manner, and in an audible voice, gave a brief account of his life.

He said that the first robbery he committed was in a stationer's shop, where he purloined a pocket-book. The success of this childish theft encouraged him to commit others: and in a short time he gave himself wholly up to thieving, never letting an opportunity slip of possessing himself of money or goods, by fraud or force, until the day he was committed to jail. He said that he often escaped in hackney-chairs, and advised the officer on guard at the Castle to search all such vehicles.

He declared most solemnly that three miserable men, who had been executed two years before at the place where he then stood, of the names of Falconer, Bruce, and Dick, were innocent, for that he himself had committed the robberies for which they were condemned!

With exultation he continued to say--that the sums he had acquired by thieving and cheating did not amount to less than two thousand pounds, besides the fortune of an unhappy woman whom he seduced and ruined. It was high time to stop the monster's speech, and the platform was therefore dropped, while yet he was exulting in his sins!

"Scotland," says the paper from which we extract this unparalleled case, "seems to be in an improving state: the following ingenious contrivance was lately practised at Glasgow:--While a merchant in King-street was counting some money and bank-notes on a counter, a staff or small rod, overlaid with birdlime, was suddenly thrust in at the door, which having touched the notes, two of them were thereby carried off; and, before the merchant could pursue, the ingenious actor had made his escape."

THE BIRMINGHAM RIOTS.

These riots were of a nature very similar to those which broke out in London in the year 1780. The outbreak appears to have been occasioned by no immediate cause, but rather by a general feeling of discontent which pervaded the minds of the people in this great manufacturing town, aided by the celebration of the anniversary of the French Revolution, and a seditious hand-bill, which had been previously circulated.

The riot was commenced by an attack being made upon a tavern, in Temple-lane, in which eighty or ninety persons had sat down to a dinner provided on Thursday, the 14th July 1791, in order to celebrate the event referred to, when, notwithstanding the personal interference of the magistrates, the windows in front of the house were demolished, and many of the company were assaulted. The popular anger being thus excited, the mob proceeded to destroy Dr. Priestley's meeting-house, and the old meeting-house, the first of which they set on fire, while they contented themselves with burning the furniture of the latter in the burial-ground. Dr. Priestley's house at Fair Hill, together with his valuable collection of apparatus for philosophical experiments, was also destroyed, and the mob then dispersed for the night. On the next morning, however, they again assembled, and being unopposed by any civil or military force, they proceeded to the commission of new outrages. Many were armed with bludgeons and weapons of offence, and shouting "Church and King," they attacked the houses of all who were obnoxious to them, or opposed to the principles which they professed. The mansion of Mr. John Ryland, at Easy Hill, was the first object to which they directed their fury, but many of them having got into the cellars, got so drunk with the wine which they found there, as to be unable to effect their escape, while their associates without, unmindful of their safety, set fire to the house, and they were buried beneath its ruins.

Bordesley Hall, the residence of John Taylor, Esq., shared a similar fate, the mob refusing to listen to any proposition to induce them to retire; and on the same night the house of Mr. Hutton in the town was completely stripped. A number of special constables were in the mean time sworn in, and attacked the mob with some determination; but being far inferior in numbers, and quite undisciplined, they were compelled to retire. Saturday only dawned to exhibit fresh ravages; Mr. Hutton's house at Washwood Heath, three miles from the town, Mr. Humphery's mansion at Spark Brook, Mr. W. Russell's house at Shewell Green, Mr. T. Hawkes's house at Moseley Wake Green, and Moseley Hall, the seat of the Dowager Countess of Carhampton, were in turn attacked, and were all in flames at the same time. Business was brought to a stand, and no military force arriving, the mob continued their acts of lawless atrocity undisturbed. At night many of them levied contributions from the inhabitants of the town of meat and money, and on the following day they pursued the same course in the outskirts in reference to all persons they met. The Sabbath even did not restrain them in their diabolical proceedings, for on that day they burned two dissenting meeting-houses, and the ministers' dwellings, situated at about six miles from Birmingham.

At night, soon after ten o'clock, three troops of the 15th Light Dragoons arrived amid the acclamations of the inhabitants, whose hopes and fears had been depicted through the day in every countenance, as reports of the near approach of the soldiery were spread and contradicted. The town was immediately illuminated, and before morning every thing was tolerably quiet; but the rioters were still continuing their depredations in the country. They exhausted the cellars at each place, and received various sums of money to prevent their proceeding to further violence.

They were in great force at the time the troops arrived, of which they no sooner had intimation than they began to slink off in small parties; and the peasantry, taking courage, put the rest to flight in various directions.

On Monday the town appeared in perfect security, but as much crowded as during the three preceding days, in viewing the military; the mob keeping at such a distance as to render all accounts of them dubious; at one time being said to be at Alcester, the next hour at Bromsgrove, &c.

On Tuesday there were flying rumours of depredations near Hagley, Hales Owen, &c.; and in the evening certain information was received that a party of rioters were then attacking Mr. Male's, of Belle Vue. A few of the Light Dragoons immediately went to his assistance; but the rioters had been previously overpowered by a body of people in that neighbourhood, and ten of them were confined at Hales Owen.

On Wednesday morning the country round, for ten miles, was scoured by the light horse, but not one rioter was to be met with, and all the manufactories were at work, as if no interruption had taken place. Three troops of the 11th Light Dragoons marched in this morning, and more soldiers soon after making their appearance, the whole neighbourhood was soon restored to tranquillity.

At the ensuing assizes held at Warwick on the 22d August, a great number of the persons concerned in these outrages were put upon their trial, before Mr. Baron Perryn. They were indicted under the Black Act, and although in several cases the jury appear to have acted in a manner somewhat extraordinary, in declaring the prisoners not guilty, many were convicted and received sentence of death. Two of them, however, were pardoned, but the remainder expiated their offences on the scaffold.

THE MUTINY OF THE BOUNTY.

The case of the mutineers of the Bounty has always attracted considerable attention. The Bounty was an armed vessel, commanded by Capt. Bligh, which quitted England in the autumn of 1789, for the purpose of making discoveries, and of trading among the Southern Islands; and having visited the Friendly and the Otaheitan Islands in the South Pacific Ocean, in the month of May 1790, she set sail on her way back to England. On the 27th of that month they lost sight of land; and up to that time there had been nothing in the conduct of the crew or petty officers which could induce a supposition that any disorder was likely to take place. The mid watch was duly relieved; but at daybreak on the following morning the cabin of the captain was forcibly entered by the officer of the watch, Fletcher Christian, who held the rank of master's mate, and who had previously been considered a good and faithful seaman, aided by three others, who dragged their commander on deck, threatening instant death if he dared to speak. The captain exerted all his eloquence to bring back the mutineers to their duty, but his exertions were of no avail, and he soon afterwards found the peaceful part of the crew and the officers brought upon deck and pinioned. The mutineers told them that they need hope for no escape by employing violence, for that all the muskets were charged; and they corroborated their assertions by exhibiting an armed body of their own number with muskets and fixed bayonets. The captain at once perceived that he was in the power of his men; and his doubts as to his fate were speedily put an end to by his seeing the long-boat lowered over the side, which he and his fellows, to the number of eighteen, were commanded to enter, no other nourishment being afforded them but about one hundred and forty pounds of bread, thirty pounds of meat, a gallon and a half of rum, an equal quantity of wine, and a few gallons of water. A compass and quadrant were seized by the captain as his unfortunate companions were entering the boat; and as soon as he had taken his place, the mutineers gave three cheers, and stood away, as they said, for Otaheite.

Captain Bligh on taking muster of the remains of his crew left to him, found that he had in his boat the boatswain, the carpenter, the gunner, the surgeon's-mate, two midshipmen, and one master's-mate, with Mr. Nelson the botanist, and a few inferior officers. After a short consultation, it was deemed expedient to put back to the Friendly Islands; and having reached the coast of one of them, they landed, in hopes of improving their stock of provisions. For several days they continued unmolested; but at length, on the 30th of April, they were attacked by the natives with such violence that one man was killed, and several wounded. They were, therefore, compelled immediately to sheer off; and it became now the subject of inquiry and deliberation as to what should be their next place of destination. Otaheite was proposed, as it was supposed that the natives would be friendly to them; but the apprehension of falling in with the Bounty determined them against this course; and with one assent they made up their minds to shape their course for Timor, a settlement belonging to the Dutch.

To effect this enterprise they were compelled to calculate the distance with a view to the apportionment of their provisions; and having discovered that it was near four thousand miles, they agreed that their rations should not exceed an ounce of bread and a gill of water a day for each man. Upon this scanty allowance they subsisted without any other nourishment until the 6th of June, when they made the coast of New Holland, and collected a few shell-fish; and with this small relief they held on their way to Timor, which they reached on the 12th, after being forty-six days in a crazy open boat, so confined in its dimensions as to prevent any of them lying down for repose, and without the least awning to protect them from the rain, which fell almost incessantly for forty days; a heavy sea and squally weather augmenting their misery during a considerable part of the time.

On their reaching Timor, they received every assistance from the governor; and having remained until the 20th of August to recruit their strength, they procured a vessel, in which they took their passage to Batavia. They reached that port on the 2nd of October, and from thence they immediately embarked for the Cape of Good Hope. Captain Bligh quitted the Cape in the month of December, and having reached England, he communicated the particulars of the mutiny to the Admiralty, and H. M. S. the Pandora was immediately despatched in search of the mutineers.

It was not until the 25th of April 1792, that despatches were received from Captain Edwards, stating that on the Pandora appearing off Otaheite, two men swam from the shore, and solicited to be taken on board. They proved to be two of the Bounty's mutineers, and gave intelligence where fourteen of their companions were concealed on the island. A part of the Pandora's crew were sent in search of them; and after some resistance they were taken and brought prisoners on board.

It then turned out that Christian had taken upon himself the command of the Bounty immediately on the captain's having quitted her, and that his crew consisted of twenty-five men. When the Pandora arrived, Christian, with the other nine mutineers, had previously sailed in the Bounty to some remote island, and every exertion to discover their retreat proved ineffectual. On her return home, the Pandora struck upon a reef of rocks in Endeavour Straits. Her crew escaped from their perilous situation to an island in the Straits, except thirty-three men, and three of the Bounty's people, who perished by the boat oversetting. Captain Edwards was reduced to the necessity of sending one of his officers and some seamen in a small boat to Timor, which they were fourteen days in reaching, and where a vessel was procured, which proceeded to the assistance of the remainder of the crew.

So much had the mutineers of the Bounty conformed to the custom and manners of Otaheite, that when two men of Christian's crew swam off to the Pandora, they were so tattooed, and exhibited so many other characteristic stains, that on being first received on board, the Pandora's people took them for natives of the island. The names of the above metamorphosed mutineers were, Peter Heywood, a midshipman, and Joseph Coleman, the armourer; the latter of whom, Captain Bligh observes, "was detained by Christian contrary to his inclination."

On the 12th of September a court-martial commenced on board the Duke, in Portsmouth harbour, on Joseph Coleman, Charles Norman, Thomas Mackintosh, Peter Heywood, Isaac Morris, John Millward, William Muspratt, Thomas Birkett, Thomas Ellison, and Michael Burn. The evidence for the prosecution closed on Friday night, the 14th, and the Court indulged the prisoners till Monday to give in their defence; and on Tuesday took the whole into their consideration, when they were pleased to pass sentence of death on Heywood, Morris, Millward, Muspratt, Birkett, and Ellison, the two first of whom the Court recommended to mercy. Coleman, Norman, Mackintosh, and Burn were acquitted, and discharged.

On the 29th of October, Millward, Birkett, and Ellison, were executed on board the Brunswick: Heywood and Morris were pardoned, in compliance with the recommendation of the Court.

NATHANIEL LILLEY, JAMES MARTIN, MARY BRIANT, WILLIAM ALLEN, AND JOHN BUTCHER.

CONVICTED OF RETURNING FROM TRANSPORTATION.

The offence with which these prisoners stood charged was that of returning from transportation at a period earlier than that to which by their sentences they were required to remain in the penal settlement to which they had been sent.

Their trial took place on the 8th of July 1792, and the following facts were proved. It appeared that the prisoners had all been tried in England, and sentenced to undergo various terms of transportation, and in pursuance of their sentence were sent to Botany Bay. The small settlement which then existed would be hardly recognised in the flourishing colony which, through the employment of English wealth and enterprise, now rears its head upon the shores of New Holland; and it is not surprising that these unhappy persons should have been anxious to escape from a place where slavery and misery alone awaited them. For this purpose they formed a species of society or club among themselves, and having collected together what money they possessed, they entrusted one of their number, named Briant, the husband of the prisoner Mary Briant, to apply to Captain Schmidt, the commander of a Dutch vessel, who had recently before brought a cargo of provisions to the colony, to induce him to sell them one of his boats, a sail, a quadrant, and the necessary quantity of provisions for the voyage which they intended to make. The enterprise was dangerous to both parties, for it was a felony to aid the escape of convicts; but the Dutchman tempted by the bribe, which was considerable, let them have an old six-oared boat, with a lug-sail, and about 100 lbs. of rice, and 14 lbs. of pork, with which, together with about 200 lbs. of flour, which they purchased of a baker in the colony, they determined to set sail on their expedition. Having got all their provisions on board, they started on the night of the 28th March 1791; the party consisting of Briant and his wife and two children, of the ages of one and three years, the three male prisoners, and also Samuel Bird, James Cox, and William Martin; the point of their destination being Timor, which by the nearest run is distant about 1300 miles from the place of their embarkation.

They were forced to keep along the coast, as much as they could, for the convenience of procuring supplies of fresh water; and on these occasions, and when the weather was extremely tempestuous, they would sometimes sleep on shore, hauling their boat on the land. The savage natives, wherever they put on shore, came down in numbers to murder them; and they now found two old muskets, and a small quantity of powder which Captain Schmidt had given them, particularly serviceable in firing over the heads of these multitudes, on which they ran off with great precipitation; but they were always forced to keep a strict watch. In lat. 26. 27. they discovered a small uninhabited island, where were plenty of turtles, which proved a great relief to them; but they were very near being lost in landing. On this island they dried as much turtle as they could carry, which lasted them ten days.

At length, after suffering almost innumerable hardships and dangers, they landed at Cupang, on the island of Timor, a Dutch settlement, on 6th June 1791, having sailed considerably more than five thousand miles, and been ten weeks all but one day in performing this voyage. At Cupang they informed the governor that they had belonged to an English ship, which was wrecked on her passage to New South Wales, and he treated them with great humanity; but at length overhearing a conversation among them, he discovered that they were convicts, who had escaped from the colony in New South Wales.

On the 29th of August 1791, the Pandora, of twenty guns, Captain Edwards, was wrecked on a reef of rocks near New South Wales. The captain, and those of the crew who were saved, got to Cupang in their boats; when the governor gave the captain an account of the eleven persons he had there, and of the conversation he had overheard.

The captain took them with him to Batavia, where William Briant and his eldest child died. The rest were put on board a Dutch ship, in which Captain Edwards sailed with them, for the Cape of Good Hope. On their passage to the Cape, James Cox fell overboard and was drowned, and Samuel Bird and William Martin died. At the Cape, Captain Edwards delivered the survivors to Captain Parker, of the Gorgon, and they sailed with him for England; and in their passage home, the younger child of Mary Briant died.

On their trials the prisoners described the hardships which they had undergone in the most piteous manner; and the Court, in consideration of their sufferings, ordered them to remain on their former sentence, until they should be discharged by the course of law.

THE REV. RICHARD BURGH, JOHN CUMMINGS, THOMAS TOWNLEY M'CAN, ESQRS., JAMES DAVIS, AND JOHN BOURNE.

CONVICTED OF A CONSPIRACY TO BURN THE KING'S BENCH PRISON.

The prisoner Burgh, who is first named in this case, was the private chaplain, and a relation to the speaker of the Irish House of Commons; the other prisoners were persons who were entitled to be ranked as gentlemen, and it appears that they were all confined in the King's Bench Prison for debt.

On the trial of the conspirators, the Attorney-general said he flattered himself it would be found that he had done no more than his duty in bringing the several defendants before the Court. The offence with which they were charged was of the utmost importance to the peace and safety of the capital; for it not only had for its object the demolition of the King's Bench Prison, but involved the burning of other houses, bloodshed, and murder. He lamented that five persons, all of education and respectable families, should, by their folly and imprudence, to call it by the softest name, bring themselves into such an unfortunate situation; one was a reverend divine, another an officer in the army, another had been in the profession of the law, and the others were of respectable parents, and, as he understood, set out in the world with fair prospects of being honourable and useful members of the community. The Attorney-general further said, that this case was pregnant with the most alarming circumstances, which would be better detailed by the witnesses than described by him.

Edward Webb was then examined, and he said he knew all the prisoners; he was introduced into a society, called "The Convivials," held in a room in the King's Bench Prison, of which the prisoners were members. M'Can expressed himself very freely upon the subject of Lord Rawdon's bill, then pending, respecting insolvent debtors, and said if that bill did not pass into a law, he and others were determined to do something to liberate themselves, and that there was a scheme in agitation for that purpose, but that the parties were sworn to secrecy, and therefore he could not divulge it; the witness said he might safely communicate the business to him; and the prisoners, Cummings and Davis, being present, M'Can said, the plan in which he and the other prisoners were concerned, was to effect their own enlargement by demolishing the walls of the prison, as they were determined not to be confined within those walls for debt; the execution of this plan would, however, depend upon the rejection of Lord Rawdon's bill: after they had effected their escape by setting fire to the prison, they would then go to the Fleet Prison, and liberate the prisoners; after which they should proceed to the houses of Lords Thurlow and Kenyon, which they would destroy. Davis said he should not hesitate, himself, to blow out the brains of those noble lords; the same witness saw the other defendants, who conversed upon the subject; and it was proposed to procure some sailors to assist them. This scheme was, however, defeated by the vigilance of the marshal, who sent for the guards and had the prison searched. The witness soon afterwards saw the prisoners M'Can, Cummings and Davis, who said that they were defeated in their former scheme, and that they were determined to put some other plot into execution; and, on the next day, Cummings, who was nick-named "the Captain," said that the best plan would be "to blow the d--d walls up." He then conducted the witness to the bake-house, and pointed to a place where the drain was opened, saying, that he meant to introduce a box into it, containing 50lbs. weight of gunpowder; and that he had planned how the tubes, by which the fire should be conveyed to it, should run. He then asked the witness to get the box made; and the plan having been communicated to M'Can and Davis, they declared that it would be "glorious," and that they would lose their lives in the attempt. Bourne was then acquainted with the plot, as he had some gunpowder, and he acquiesced in it; and it was determined that, as he had not got enough powder, a motion should be made at the next meeting of the Convivials for a subscription of five shillings each to buy more, under the pretence that it was to fee counsel, to know whether the marshal had any right to enter their rooms when he pleased. It was then further agreed that the powder should be deposited in a hole in the floor of Burgh's room, which was looked upon as the best place of concealment; and that on the day of the "explosion," M'Can and Bourne were to get up a sham fencing-match, in order to give all the prisoners an opportunity of being collected together and making their escape in a body. The day fixed upon for the completion of the scheme was Sunday, and it was determined that seven o'clock should be the hour of the train being fired, because there were generally a great number of strangers in the prison then; but the whole affair being in the mean time communicated to the marshal, the plot was put an end to, by the apprehension of the prisoners, and the seizure of their powder.

Other witnesses confirmed this testimony, and the prisoners were found guilty.

On Tuesday, 12th February 1793, they were placed at the bar to receive judgment, and were severally sentenced to three years' imprisonment in different jails.

LAURENCE JONES,

INDICTED FOR ROBBERY.

This unfortunate man was a native of London, where he received a good education, and moved in genteel society, but having been guilty of some fraudulent practices, he was discharged from the situation which he held. Being now driven to "seek his fortune," he determined to commence swindler, and having a considerable sum of money left him by a relation, he took a very handsome house in St. James's, had it elegantly furnished, and kept his carriage and servants.

During his abode here he defrauded Mr. Hudson, a silversmith, of plate, to the value of near three thousand pounds; Mr. Kempton, a mercer, of silks, and other goods, to a large amount; and Mr. Bailey, a watchmaker and jeweller, of a gold repeater, and other goods, to the value of three hundred pounds.

The time of payment coming on, and suspicion being entertained of his honesty, he thought it time to decamp, and he effected his purpose just in time to avoid a warrant out against him.

After this he lived privately for some time, that suspicion might die away before he again began his fraudulent practices, which he carried on with his usual success, till the occurrence of the affair for which he was condemned; the particulars of which are as follow:--

Mr. Campbell, the collecting clerk to Vere, Lucadou, and Co., bankers, in Lombard-street, in the course of his business called at a house in Hatton-garden for the purpose of demanding payment of a bill. No sooner had he knocked at the door than it was opened by a person, in appearance a gentleman, who desired him to walk into the counting-house, and, having entered, a man came behind him, and covered his head and face over with a thick cap, so that he could see nothing. He was then thrown on the floor, and wrapped in a green baize, in which condition he was bound hand and foot, and carried down stairs. His assailants now proceeded to rob him of his pocket-book, with bank-notes and bills to the amount of nine hundred pounds, and having secured the money, they took measures to prevent a discovery before they could receive the money for the bills, &c. which they had stolen.

They first laid their victim flat on his back on a board, and chained him hand and foot, and then carried him down stairs into a back kitchen, where they chained him to the bars of a grate, threatening that if he made a noise they would blow his brains out. Then, after placing before him some bread, some ham, and some water, they left him.

In this condition he remained for about eight hours, not daring to make the least noise, expecting every moment to be murdered if he spoke: but Providence preserved him from this dreadful fate; for, hearing no more of them for so many hours, he at last had the courage to call out, and he at length succeeded in alarming a man who was at work in a house behind that in which he was confined. The fellow had the resolution to break open the door of the house from whence the noise proceeded, when, directed by the cry, he went down stairs, and there discovered the unfortunate Mr. Campbell almost expiring, and exhausted with struggling and crying out.

Jones was afterwards apprehended by Jealous and Kennedy, officers of Bow-street, at the King's Arms, in Bridge-street, Westminster, and on being seen by Mr. Campbell, he was immediately recognised by him as one of the men by whom he had been robbed.

Being committed to Newgate, he was afterwards tried, and found guilty, when he received sentence, and was ordered for execution on Wednesday, December 8, 1793, in Hatton-garden, near the house where he committed the robbery; but on the Saturday previous, about six o'clock in the morning, when the turnkey entered the cell to prepare him to hear the condemned sermon and to receive the sacrament, he found him dead. It appeared that he had made several attempts on his life before, but was prevented: and the manner in which he at last accomplished his purpose was very extraordinary: he had taken the knee-strings with which his fetters were supported, and tied them round his neck; then, tying the other end to the ring to which his chain was fastened, he placed his feet against the wall, and strangled himself. The coroner's jury pronounced a verdict of Felo de se.

In consequence of this verdict, the body was, on Wednesday morning, carried out of Newgate, extended upon a plank on the top of a cart, his face being covered with a cloth, and his clothes being upon his person, and in that condition, with a stake driven through his body, he was thrown into a pit, which was dug at the end of Hatton-garden, at the brow of Holborn hill, and buried.

ROBERT WATT AND DAVID DOWNIE.

CONVICTED OF HIGH TREASON.

We are now arrived at an alarming period in the modern history of our country. Just engaged in the war with France, we were perplexed with disaffection at home, and threatened with invasion by our enemy. Confederate bodies of dissatisfied men were formed, from London to Edinburgh, and a systematic course of treason and correspondence was maintained until government stretched out its powerful arm to defeat their plans.

Watt and Downie were principals in the Scottish conspiracy, and their trial came on before the High Court of Justiciary, at Edinburgh, on the 3d of September 1794. Watt was first tried, when Mr. Anstruther stated the case on the part of the Crown. He began by observing, that such was the peculiar happiness of that country (Scotland), that they had been unacquainted with the law of treason for nearly half a century.

The laws of treason were now the same in England and Scotland, and the duty of the subjects of both kingdoms should be the same. Scotland, in this instance, had reaped much benefit by the Union, as her laws of treason, previous to that period, were much more severe. The act of Edward III. stated three distinct species of treason: 1. Compassing and imagining the death of the king; 2. Levying war against him; 3. Assisting his enemies. He would not trouble the Court or Jury with the two last: for the single species of treason charged in the present case was the compassing and imagining the death of the king; which was defined by the conceiving such a design; not the actual act, but the attempt to effect it. But the law which thus anxiously guarded the sovereign was equally favourable to the subject; for it did not affect him until that imagination was fully proved before "men of his condition." An overt act of treason was the means used for effectuating the purpose of the mind: it was not necessary to prove a direct attempt to assassinate the king; for the crime was the intention, and the overt act the means used to effect it.

After explaining more fully the distinct species of treason which applied to the present case, Mr. Anstruther said that he trusted that if he could prove any design whereby the king's life was put in jeopardy, that would be considered an overt act. He should now state the facts, upon which these principles of law were to be founded. The present conspiracy was not that of a few inconsiderable individuals; it had risen indeed from small beginnings, from meetings for pretended reforms. It had been fostered by seditious correspondence, the distribution of libellous writings, and had at last risen to a height, which, but for the vigilance of the administration, might have deluged the country, from one end to the other, with blood. The proceedings of these societies, calling, or rather miscalling, themselves Friends of the People, were well known: their first intention was apparently to obtain reform; but this not answering their purpose, they proceeded to greater lengths. He meant to detail the general plans and designs formed among the seditious, and then to state how far the prisoners were implicated in them.

The first dawning of this daring plan was in a letter from Hardy, secretary to the London Corresponding Society; to Skirving, the secretary to the Friends of the People in Scotland. He wrote that, as their petitions had been unsuccessful, they must use separate and more effectual measures; and Skirving answered, and admitted the necessity of more effectual measures, and said that he foresaw the downfall of this government. Here also was the first notice of a Convention; a measure which it was no wonder they were fond of, when they saw its effects in a neighbouring kingdom (France). They meant not to petition Parliament, but to proceed in their own plan, and to supersede the existing government of the country: and, in that case, the king's life was put in danger.

Soon after, a Convention, a body unknown to the laws of this country, met; and in this there would have been little harm, had their views been peaceable; but their objects were avowedly unconstitutional, for their intention was to carry on their plans by force, and thus virtually to lay aside the prerogative of the king. This convention met, using all the terms and regulations adopted by the convention of another country. They meant not to apply to Parliament; for whenever that was mentioned, they proceeded to the order of the day. They resolved to oppose every act of Parliament which they deemed contrary to the spirit of the Constitution, and were determined to sit, until compelled to rise by a force superior to their own.

The Convention, indeed, was dispersed by the spirited conduct of a magistrate, (Provost Elder,) but another Convention was attempted to be called, who were to frame their own laws, and to be independent of the Legislature; or, as they said, independent of their plunderers, enemies, and oppressors, meaning the King, Lords, and Commons: their resolutions would prove that they meant to create a government of their own, to do away the authority of what they called hereditary senators, and packed majorities; all which proved the intention of putting the king's life in danger.

But what, it might be said, was all this to the prisoner at the bar? who, surprising as it might appear, about two years before wrote letters to Mr. Secretary Dundas, offering to give information as to certain designs of the Friends of the People. Those letters were answered by that honourable gentleman with that propriety which had ever marked his public conduct. The prisoner then corresponded with the Lord Advocate, but since September 1793, this correspondence had ceased. Previous to that period, the prisoner was not a member of the Society of Friends of the People, nor of the British Convention; but his accession since to its measures, and the calling of another Convention, could be substantiated. A Committee of Correspondence, of which the prisoner was a member, was instituted by a new Convention, whose object it was to carry into effect the views of the last British Convention, and to elect delegates to a new one. Mr. Watt attended this committee, and coincided in its measures, which were expressly to supersede the Legislature. The prisoner had moved for a Committee of Union; and another was appointed, called the Committee of Ways and Means; of both which he was a member. This last was a Secret Committee, kept no minutes, was permanent, and empowered to collect money to support "the great cause." Mr. Downie was appointed treasurer, and it was to be the medium through which all instructions and directions were to be given to all friends of the people throughout the kingdom, and was to procure information of the number of those that would spare no exertions to support the great cause. They corresponded with Hardy respecting the calling of a new Convention, which was to follow up the purposes of the old one; and, as the prisoner was present, he was in this way coupled with the British Convention.

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