In the interim, Davidson, who had not yetcome out, leaned with his back against a dresser in the lodge, and continued with his hands clasped, praying in the most fervent manner, and calling with unfeigned and unreserved piety for the intervention of the Redeemer. Brunt and Ings, however, persevered in the same hardihood that they had manifested throughout, and continued venting their thoughts in unreserved ejaculations.
A humane individual who stood by remonstrated with Brunt again, and besought him to ask pardon of God.
Brunt, with a fierce and savage air, surveyed his adviser contemptuously, and exclaimed, “What have I done? I have done nothing! What should I ask pardon for?” The stranger rejoined, “So you say, Brunt; but if you have ever injured any man, or done any thing which your conscience tells you is wrong, ask pardon of God, penitently and sincerely, and you will, I have no doubt, obtain mercy.”—Brunt replied, “I die with a perfectly clear conscience. I have made my peace with God, and I never injured no man.” The stranger proceeded, “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ!” Brunt surveyed his humane adviser again, and muttered, “My mind is made up.”
“Well done, Brunt!” exclaimed Ings, and was again proceeding to sing,
“Oh give me death or liberty,”
when he was summoned to the scaffold. He turned to Brunt, and, with a smile on his countenance, shook hands with him, and prepared to go. While the hatch was opening, he exclaimed, with a loud voice, “Remember me to King George the IVth; God bless him, and may he have a long reign.” He now recollected that he had some clothes left behind, which he requested might be given to his wife. The wretched man had thrown off the clothes in which he had been tried, and had put on an old butcher’s jacket,determining, as he said, “that Jack Ketch should have no coat of his.”
James Ings Thomas Brunt
While he stood on the edge of the steps, at the door of the gaol, he said to Davis, one of the turnkeys, “Well, Mr. Davis, I am going to find out this great secret,” and then springing upon the scaffold, exclaimed, “Good-bye! Gentlemen. Here goes the remains of an unfortunate man.”
He rushed to the platform, upon which he leaped and bounded in the most frantic manner. Then turning himself round towards Smithfield, and facing the very coffin that was soon to receive his mutilated body, he raised his pinioned hands, in the best way he could, and leaning forward with savage energy, roared out three distinct cheers to the people, in a voice of the most frightful and discordant hoarseness. But these unnatural yells of desperation, which were evidently nothing but the ravings of a disordered mind, or the ebullitions of an assumed courage, struck the majority of the vast multitude who heard them with horror.
Turning his face towards Ludgate-hill, he bowed, and cried out, “This is going to be the last remains of James Ings,” and shouted out part of the song in which the wordsDeath or Libertyare introduced. He laughed upon looking at the coffins, and said, turning his back to them, “I’ll turn my back upon death!—Is this the gallows they always use? Those coffins are for us, I suppose.”
Tidd, who stood next to him, and had the moment before been in conversation with Thistlewood, turned about, and said, “Don’t, Ings. There is no use in all this noise. We can die without making a noise.” Ings was silent for a few moments; but as the executioner approached him with the rope, he called out, “Do it well—pull it tight!”
When the executioner threw the rope round the beam, he said, “Give me a better fall; theothers won’t have fall enough.” When the man put him on the cap, Ings said, “I have got a cap of my own; put it over this night-cap, and I’ll thank you.” The executioner proceeded to do so; but Ings said, “It will do when we are going off: let me see as long as I can.” He then pushed the cap from his eyes. The others had raised the caps from their eyes. “Here I go, James Ings!” said he, “and let it be known that I die an enemy to all tyrants. Ah ha! I see a good many of my friends are on the houses.”
Again Tidd turned round to Ings, and, as it appeared, at the suggestion of Thistlewood, requested that he would not continue the noise. Ings laughed and remained silent for a few minutes.
Mr. Cotton approached Tidd and Ings, but they turned away from him. Ings smiled at his interference, but Tidd turned round to Thistlewood and spoke a few words, in which he seemed to complain of the inclination of the Ordinary to break in upon their last moments.
Thistlewood now said to Tidd, “We shall soon know the last grand secret.”
Brunt, who, after the departure of Ings, stood by himself within the porch of the prison, having no companion of his own principles to encourage him, (as Davidson stood far away from him,) muttered something about the injustice of his fate. The persons around him repeatedly entreated him to alter his religious creed, during the last few moments left, and to believe in the Saviour of the world. Still immutable—still hardened in iniquity—he listened not to the remonstrances of sincere friends, who besought him, for his wife’s sake, and for the sake of his son, to ask the protection of the Redeemer for them; but he appeared tired of these friendly importunities, and wished to ascend the scaffold next.
Davidson, however, was summoned before him, and with a composed countenance and a firmstep he passed by his former companion in guilt to his fate, without noticing him.
Brunt now appeared considerably irritated. “What,” he exclaimed, “am I to be the last? Why is this? They can have my blood but once, and why am I to be kept to the last? But I suppose they are afraid I should say something to the people, because I spoke my mind on the trial. However, I don’t care.”
Davidson walked up the platform with a firm and steady step, but with all that respectful humility becoming the condition to which he had reduced himself. He bowed to the crowd, and instantly joined Mr. Cotton in prayer. He seemed inattentive to every thing but the journey he was about to take, and his lips moved in prayer until he was no longer able to speak. He made no request to have his eyes uncovered, but was evidently preparing himself for bidding an eternal adieu to a world of which he had ceased to be an inhabitant.
Brunt was the last summoned to the fatal platform, and he rushed upon it with impetuosity. Some of the people cheered him, which evidently gratified and pleased him. It brought a sort of grin on his countenance, which remained till his death. But his aspect “belied his utterance.” Externally he appeared to have shrunk more from his fate than any one of his wretched companions; his cheeks had sunk extremely, giving a degree of ghostly prominence to a forehead, cheek-bones, and chin, naturally very much protruded, and his colour was of a livid paleness; but the eyes of the man sent forth from their deep recesses glances of distressing keenness; his lips were firmly compressed together; not a tear trickled down his cheeks; there was no quaking of the members. To use an expressive phrase of his speech on receiving sentence, “he went through with the business.” “What,” said he, “soldiers!What do they do here? I see nothing but a military government will do for this country, unless there are a good many such as we are. I see a good many of my friends round about.”
While the rope was being adjusted, he looked towards St. Sepulchre’s Church, and perceiving, or affecting to perceive, some one with whom he had been acquainted, he nodded several times, and then made an inclination of the head towards the coffins, as if in derision of the awful display. His conduct was marked by the same irrational levity to the last. When his handkerchief was taken off, the stiffener fell out, and he kicked it away, saying, “I shan’t want you any more.”
His last act was to take a pinch of snuff from a paper which he held in his hand. He stooped to put it to his nose, and this he was only able to effect by pushing up the night-cap which hung over his face. He also threw off his shoes.
The executioner was now proceeding to adjust the ropes, and to pull the caps over the faces of the wretched men. A voice from the crowd again called out, “God bless you, Thistlewood!” Thistlewood looked towards the place from which it issued, and slightly inclined his head. He then said a few words in a whisper to Tidd, and awaited his fate in silence.
Brunt refused altogether to speak with Mr. Cotton upon the subject of the next world, and declared that he had done all he thought necessary for the place to which he was going. He appeared disposed to address the crowd, but they were at too great a distance, and the executioner was quick at his work.
The cap was first drawn over the face of Thistlewood, and his cravat was bound over his eyes. He stooped gently while the man tied it, and appeared to direct him as to the way in which he wished it done.
When the executioner came to Ings, the unhappy man said, “Now, old gentleman, finish me tidily. Tie the handkerchief tight over my eyes. Pull the rope tighter; it may slip.”
When the handkerchief was tied over his eyes, he cried out, “I hope, Mr. Cotton, you will give me a good character!” and commenced swinging about in his hand an old night-cap in the most careless manner.
Tidd’s lips were in motion just before he was turned off, as if in prayer. Davidson was in the most fervent prayer, and seemed to feel his situation with a becoming spirit. He firmly pressed the hand of the Rev. Mr. Cotton.
The executioner having completed the details of his awful duty, by placing the criminals in a proper situation upon the trap-door, walked down the ladder, and left Mr. Cotton alone upon the scaffold. The Reverend Gentleman standing closer to Davidson than to any of the rest, began to read those awful sentences which have sounded last in the ears of so many unhappy men. Suddenly the platform fell, and the agonies of death were exhibited to the view of the crowd in their most terrific form.
Thistlewood struggled slightly for a few minutes, but each effort was more faint than that which preceded; and the body soon turned round slowly, as if upon the motion of the hand of death.
Tidd, whose size gave cause to suppose that he would “pass” with little comparative pain, scarcely moved after the fall. The struggles of Ings were great. The assistants of the executioner pulled his legs with all their might; and even then the reluctance of the soul to part from its native seat was to be observed in the vehement efforts of every part of the body. Davidson, after three or four heaves, became motionless; but Brunt suffered extremely, and considerableexertions were made by the executioners and others to shorten his agonies, by pulling and hanging upon his legs. However, in the course of five minutes all was still.
THE DECAPITATION.
Exactly half an hour after they had been turned off, the order was given to cut the bodies down. The executioner immediately ascended the scaffold, and drew the legs of the sufferers up, and placed the dead men, who were still suspended, in a sitting position, with their feet towards Ludgate-hill. This being done, the trap-door was again put up, and the platform restored to its original state. The executioner proceeded to cut Thistlewood down; and, with the aid of an assistant, lifted the body into the first coffin, laying it on the back, and placing the head over the end of the coffin, so as to bring the neck on the edge of the block. The rope was then drawn from the neck, and the cap was removed from the face.
The last convulsions of expiring life had thrown a purple hue over the countenance, which gave it a most ghastly and appalling appearance; but no violent distortion of feature had taken place. An axe was placed on the scaffold, but this was not used.
When the rope had been removed, and the coat and waistcoat forced down, so as to leave the neck exposed, a person wearing a black mask, which extended to his mouth, over which a coloured handkerchief was tied, and his hat slouched down, so as to conceal part of the mask, and attired in a blue jacket and dark-grey trowsers, mounted the scaffold with a small knife in his hand, similar to what is used by surgeons in amputation, and,advancing to the coffin, proceeded to sever the head from the body.
The Execution of the Cato Street Conspirators
When the crowd perceived the knife applied to the throat of Thistlewood, they raised a shout, in which exclamations of horror and of reproach were mingled. The tumult seemed to disconcert the person in the mask for the moment; but, upon the whole, he performed the operation with dexterity; and, having handed the head to the assistant executioner, who waited to receive it, he immediately retired, pursued by the hootings of the mob.
The assistant executioner, holding the head by the hair over the forehead, exhibited it from the side of the scaffold nearest Newgate-street. A person attended on the scaffold, who dictated to the executioner what he was to say; and he exclaimed with a loud voice—“This is the head of Arthur Thistlewood, the traitor!” A thrilling sensation was produced on the spectators by the display of this ghastly object, and the hissings and hootings of part of the mob were vehemently renewed.
The same ceremony was repeated in front of the scaffold, and on the side nearest Ludgate-street. The head was then placed at the foot of the coffin; while the body, before lifted up to bring the neck on the block, was forced lower down, and, this done, the head was again put in its proper place, at the upper end of the coffin, which was left open.
The block was then moved by the hangman, and placed at the head of the second coffin. The cap and rope were removed from the face and neck of Tidd. The same livid hue which overspread the countenance of Thistlewood was perceptible.
The coat and waistcoat being pulled down, the masked executioner again came forward. He was received with groans, and cries of “Shootthat —— murderer;” “Bring out Edwards,”&c.He seemed less disconcerted than at first, and performed the operation with great expedition, and, having handed the head to the person who had before received that of Thistlewood, he retired amidst yells and execrations.
The assistant executioner then advanced to the side of the scaffold, from which the former head was first exhibited, holding the head between both hands by the cheeks, the forehead of Tidd being bald, and exclaiming, “This is the head of Richard Tidd, the traitor.” The same words were also repeated from the other two sides of the scaffold, and the head was then deposited with the body in the second coffin.
The block was now removed to the third coffin, and the body of Ings, being cut down, was placed in it with the face upwards. The person in the mask again came forward, severed the head from the body, and retired amidst the hootings of the crowd. The assistant-executioner proceeded to exhibit the head, holding it up by the hair in the same way as he had Thistlewood’s, from the three sides of the scaffold, exclaiming, “This is the head of James Ings, the traitor.” The head was then placed in the coffin.
The block being removed to the fourth coffin, the body of Davidson was taken down from the gallows, the noose taken from about the neck, and the cap removed from the face, which remained in death exactly what it had been while living. The mouth was a little open, but no expression of agony, or change of colour, could be remarked. The body was placed in the fourth coffin, and the man in the mask having performed his part, the head was exhibited in the same way as the last, with the exclamation, “This is the head of William Davidson, the traitor.”
Little or no blood had fallen from the other heads, but from this it fell profusely. The hissesand groans of the crowd were repeated on this occasion, while the head was deposited in the coffin which contained the sufferer’s body.
The executioner and his assistant now proceeded to cut down the last of the sufferers, Brunt. The block was placed at the head of the fifth coffin. The blood which had stained the block was wiped off with the saw-dust, and, the rope being cut, they attempted to lift the body to the place where the last part of the sentence was to be executed, when it was found that in putting up the platform part of his clothing had been shut in with it, and held him so tight, that a considerable effort was necessary to disengage the remains of the wretched culprit. He was placed in the fifth coffin.
His miserable and cadaverous countenance presented but a ghastly spectacle while he was alive; but dead, its aspect was little less than terrific; and the dark hair which overhung his forehead came in frightful contrast with the purple hue produced by the agonies of death.
The masked executioner, while performing his duty, happened to let the head fall from his hands on the saw-dust. The howlings and groans of the spectators were again heard at that moment, and amidst these the operator retired, having first handed the discoloured “trunkless ball” to the assistant executioner, who advancing, as in each of the other cases, first to the side of the scaffold nearest Giltspur-street, then to the front, and lastly to the side looking towards the Felons’-door, proclaimed aloud, “This is the head of John Thomas Brunt, the traitor.” His head was then placed in the coffin, and thus terminated this part of the awful business of that memorable day.
The execution occupied an hour and eight minutes. It was a quarter before eight when Thistlewood walked up the steps leading to thefatal platform; and it wanted seven minutes to nine when the head of Brunt was placed in the coffin.
From the manner in which the last part of the execution was performed very little blood was seen on the scaffold. The bodies being placed almost in a sitting attitude in their coffins, the blood could not flow copiously from them at the moment the heads were taken off. It was not till they were laid in a horizontal position that the vital stream could escape freely from the heart.
The person who wore the mask, and who performed the ceremony of decapitation, is said to be the same person who beheaded Despard and his associates. This, however, may be doubted, as, from the quickness and spring of his motions, he seemed to be a young man. His mode of operation showed evidently that he was a surgeon. In performing his dreadful duty, the edge of the first knife was turned by the vertebræ of Thistlewood, and two others became necessary to enable him to finish his heart-appalling task.
The coffins containing the remains of the sufferers were left on the scaffold but for a few minutes after the sentence of the law had been carried into effect. While there they continued open. At nine o’clock they were conveyed into the prison by the Debtors’-door, and this dreadful scene being thus ended, the crowd began peaceably to separate.
In such an immense assemblage, as might be expected, some accidents occurred through the dreadful pressure of the crowd. Some women (and it is painful to record that many women were among the crowd) were brought out fainting, and a boy was severely hurt by the falling of a part of the railing in front of St. Sepulchre’s church. The persons whose weight brought down the railing from the stone base in which it was planted, werethrown on the shoulders of those beneath them, and caused great confusion at the moment, but no more serious accidents occurred than the injury received by the boy above-mentioned.
In addition to the military arrangements on this awful occasion, which we have incidentally mentioned, it was thought necessary to adopt the following precautionary measures, that should any thing like a breach of the peace be attempted, it might be crushed in its infancy; and it is a pleasing part of our duty here to record the prudence which gave rise to these measures, the very excellent and effectual manner in which they were carried into execution, and, above all, the exemplary conduct of the soldiers who were on duty throughout the morning, although they were at times severely, and indeed unavoidably pressed upon by the crowd. The Life Guards were incessantly attentive to prevent their horses from doing any injury, while occasionally driven out of their position by the momentary agitation of the persons immediately near them.
At a very early hour, the neighbourhood of Blackfriars-bridge, being the place appointed for the rendezvous of a considerable number of troops, presented a very novel spectacle. At five o’clock in the morning, six light field-pieces of flying artillery arrived in front of the livery stables, near Christ Church, escorted by the usual complement of men. They drew up in the centre of the street, and remained there until after the execution took place.
At a still earlier hour, three troops of the Life Guards arrived in the neighbourhood of Newgate; one troop and a picquet remained near the scaffold; another picquet was stationed in Ludgate-hill, facing the Old Bailey; and the remaining troop drew up in Bridge-street.
The moment the prisoners were about to bebrought out to the scaffold, an officer rode from his station in front of Newgate, communicated with the picquet on Ludgate-hill, and then rode on to the troop in Bridge-street, to whom he immediately gave the word of command to advance. The troop instantly followed the officer, and proceeded onwards until they joined the picquet on Ludgate-hill, with which they halted, and formed in a line, still facing the Old Bailey.
The flying artillery, near Christ Church, also made a movement in advance just at the same time, and formed a crescent across the road; the guns pointing towards the bridge.
The City Light Horse were under arms, in their barracks in Gray’s-Inn-lane, and a number of troops were stationed at various depôts, assigned them at convenient intervals throughout the metropolis.
A little before ten, the multitude having completely dispersed, the detachments marched off to their respective barracks.
DISPOSAL OF THE BODIES.
On the day of execution the friends of the families of the unfortunate men who were executed met at a public-house, and after some discussion upon the subject of raising a subscription for the wives and children of those who were transported, as well as of those who were hanged, adopted a resolution to apply through Lord Sidmouth for leave to take away the bodies of the deceased from Newgate.
The following petition was accordingly drawn up, in the names of the widows of the wretched criminals, and forwarded to Lord Sidmouth, to be by him delivered to his majesty:
To His Most Gracious Majesty the King.“Sire,“The Petition of Susan Thistlewood, Mary Tidd, Mary Brunt, Celia Ings, and Sarah Davidson, humbly sheweth, That your Petitioners are the widows of the unfortunate men who this morning suffered the dreadful sentence of the law at the Old Bailey.“Your petitioners most earnestly entreat your Majesty to grant them one consolation, by restoring to them the mangled remains of their late unfortunate husbands, that they, your petitioners, may shed a silent tear over their mutilated remains, ere they are consigned to the tomb.“We are confident that all desire of further vengeance has ceased, and that your Majesty will be graciously pleased to order the restoration of the bodies to your humble Petitioners, that they may have them decently interred; and your Petitioners will, as in duty bound, for ever pray,&c.
To His Most Gracious Majesty the King.
“Sire,
“The Petition of Susan Thistlewood, Mary Tidd, Mary Brunt, Celia Ings, and Sarah Davidson, humbly sheweth, That your Petitioners are the widows of the unfortunate men who this morning suffered the dreadful sentence of the law at the Old Bailey.
“Your petitioners most earnestly entreat your Majesty to grant them one consolation, by restoring to them the mangled remains of their late unfortunate husbands, that they, your petitioners, may shed a silent tear over their mutilated remains, ere they are consigned to the tomb.
“We are confident that all desire of further vengeance has ceased, and that your Majesty will be graciously pleased to order the restoration of the bodies to your humble Petitioners, that they may have them decently interred; and your Petitioners will, as in duty bound, for ever pray,&c.
(Signed)
The petition was accompanied by a request to his Lordship that the bodies might be given up to the friends of the deceased, and stating, that the object was the humane one of raising the means of support for the wives and children by a public exhibition.
It is almost unnecessary to state that Lord Sidmouth did not hesitate to refuse the request, a compliance with which would be attended with great inconvenience at least. His lordship stated, in the mildest terms, the impossibility of granting it, contrary as such compliance would be to established usage.
At a late hour in the evening, the wives of the executed men were informed by the keeper ofNewgate, that the bodies of their husbands were buried.
In the course of the afternoon a channel had been dug alongside of the subterraneous passage that leads to the cells, and, about seven in the evening, after the coffins had been filled with quick lime, they were strongly screwed up, placed in a line with each other, strewed over with earth, and finally covered with stones, and of course no trace of their end remains for any future public observation. On this circumstance being communicated to their unhappy wives, they were entirely overcome by the poignancy of their feelings.
On the following morning an individual petition was forwarded to the Privy-Council on the part of Mrs. Thistlewood, and was presented to his Majesty, for the body of her husband. A laconic answer was almost immediately returned, “That Thistlewood was buried.”
Transportation of the respited Traitors, Discharge of the suspected Persons, &c.
Veryearly in the morning of Tuesday, the 2d of May, the day following the execution of their partners in crime, five of the respited traitors, namely, Wilson, Harrison, Cooper, Strange, and Bradburn, were removed from Newgate in three post-chaises, and conveyed under a proper escort to Portsmouth, where they were put on board a convict-ship, which soon after sailed for New South Wales.
Gilchrist was still detained in Newgate, but it was expected his confinement would not be of long duration; the peculiar circumstances of his case having excited a feeling of mercy towards him.
On Saturday the 6th of May, the following persons, whose arrests on suspicion we have previously mentioned, were placed at the bar of the Old Bailey, previous to the adjournment of the court,viz.Thomas Preston, William Simmons, Abel Hall, Robert George, William Firth, and William Hazard. The prisoners being addressed by order of the court, and informed that, as no prosecutors appeared against them, they were discharged, bowed respectfully, and departed, with the exception of Preston, who made an attempt to address the Court, but was immediately silenced.
We have now completed, as far as the individuals arrested were concerned, our narration of the whole of the proceedings relative to the horrid conspiracy, which at one time threatened such awful consequences; but as many circumstances connected with the personal history of the conspirators have been brought to light in the course of the proceedings, which could not well be interwoven in the history of their crimes, we have added in anAppendixsuch particulars respecting the principal actors in this dreadful tragedy, as we have been able to collect, from aconviction that every circumstance connected with the lives of the ferocious criminals will be considered as interesting.
The infamous Spy and instigator,George Edwards, has also been frequently named as playing a very prominent part in this horrid drama, and, independent of the disclosures of his criminal conduct, incidentally made in the course of the judicial proceedings against the conspirators, the answers given by Thistlewood to the questions put to him by Mr. Alderman Wood, on the morning of the fatal first of May, imparted a certain degree of interest to every circumstance connected with that vile character, and a feeling of indignation, horror, and disgust, was excited in the public mind relative to this consummate villain, which had never been equalled but in the sensation caused by the first discovery of the plot itself.
Consonant with these feelings were the proceedings instituted by Mr. Alderman Wood, both in and out of Parliament, for the apprehension and bringing to trial of this worthless wretch on charges of diverse acts of high treason alleged to have been committed by him; and although we stop not to inquire whether the protection from the consequences of his crimes, experienced by this fellow, be justifiable, or otherwise, we shall certainly be rendering an acceptable service to society and to future generations, in tracing this serpent through all his intricate paths of villany, and cautioning the thoughtless and unsuspecting from becoming the dupes of similar villains, (if any such exist) in their intemperate moments of political animosity.
With this view we have collected all the particulars attainable of the conduct of this arch-fiend both in public or private, as an appropriate addition to the lives of his partners in crime, and, perhaps, in some respects, the victims of his villany.
[2]See Newgate Calendar, Vol. 3.
[3]See Newgate Calendar, Vol. 2.
CONTAINING
Brief Sketches of the Lives of the Executed Conspirators, with copies of their Letters; an account of the infamous George Edwards, the Spy; the efforts made to bring him to justice, and the Parliamentary Proceedings thereon; with other particulars relating to the Conspiracy.
Brief Sketches of the Lives of the Executed Conspirators, with copies of their Letters; an account of the infamous George Edwards, the Spy; the efforts made to bring him to justice, and the Parliamentary Proceedings thereon; with other particulars relating to the Conspiracy.
ARTHUR THISTLEWOOD.
In page 70, of the preceding narrative, we have briefly touched on the history of this ill-fated man, and we now add some further particulars relating to him.
Very early in life he manifested idle and unsettled habits, and remained a burden on his family until the period of his obtaining a commission in the Militia, soon after which he married a young lady of property; but even that step, so promising in the outset, was pregnant with future troubles. Thistlewood had supposed her fortune to be at her own disposal, but it was in fact so settled, that she received the interest only during her life, and the principal, at her death, reverted to her relations. Sixteen months after their marriage, she died in child-bed, and Thistlewood was left almost without a shilling of her property.
* * * * * * * * * *
In London he formed an acquaintance with a number of young military officers; was introducedinto all the vices and dissipation of the metropolis, and gave loose to his passion for intrigue and gaming. On one night he was filched by a notorious black leg, and some of his companions, at one of theHells, in the neighbourhood of St. James’s, of upwards of 2,000l.His money being nearly all gone, he fled in despair. Legal proceedings were commenced to recover the amount; but, owing to some informality in the pleadings, it was not recovered; and, soon after, those who had pigeoned him left the kingdom.
* * * * * * * * * *
In France his evil genius still followed him; on one occasion, having an improper passport, he was detained by the police, and during his detention, a circumstance occurred which produced him a long period of confinement. He had always expressed himself a hater of oppression and injustice. An Englishman, named Heely, was arrested for being without a passport, and conveyed to the same prison where Thistlewood was confined. Upon Thistlewood and Heely receiving orders from Paris for their liberation, Heely used some insulting language to the officer who brought him to prison; the officer struck him with a cane, and Thistlewood knocked the officer down with his clenched fist.
In consequence of this outrage, they were thrown into close confinement, and lay there for several weeks before they were able to obtain their final liberation.
Thistlewood having obtained a passport, then went to Paris, having sufficient knowledge of the French language to be able to converse. He entered the French service, and was present during the perpetration of numberless atrocities by the French troops.
Although a man of but middling talent, he had a considerable knowledge of military tactics;was an excellent swordsman, and always fearless of death.
He entered a regiment of French grenadiers, and was at the battle of Zurich, commanded by General ——.
After a variety of adventures in France and on different parts of the Continent, he returned to England, and became possessed of a considerable estate, by the death of a relation; which he subsequently sold to a gentleman at Durham for 10,000l.
He felt inclined to settle himself, and courted Miss Wilkinson of Horncastle. The gentleman to whom he sold his estate, instead of paying him the money, gave him an annuity bond, agreeing to pay him 850l.per annum for a number of years. In eighteen months this purchaser became a bankrupt, and Thistlewood was again reduced, not to want or poverty, but his finances were at a low ebb.
Thistlewood’s father and brother, both of whom now reside and are most respectable farmers in the neighbourhood of Horncastle, assisted him to take a farm; he continued to occupy it till he found he was losing annually a considerable sum, in consequence of the high rent and taxes, and farming produce being very low; he then parted with it. He came with his present wife and son to London, and formed an acquaintance with the Spenceans.
The Evanses were his constant companions; he took young Evans to France, paying all expenses for near twelve months; and since his return his history is but too well recorded in the annals of crime.
The son who took an affecting leave of him in prison, is not the offspring of the first marriage, but a natural child of Thistlewood’s, whom his second wife (the present widow) took under her care shortly after her marriage, and to whom shehas shown great kindness. By the widow he had no issue.
The following lines are said to have been written by him while under sentence of death in Newgate:—
Oh what a twine of mischief is a Statesman!Ye furies! whirlwinds! and ye treach’rous rocks!Ye ministers of death! devouring fires!Convulsive earthquakes! and plague-tainted air!Ye are all mild and merciful to him!!
Oh what a twine of mischief is a Statesman!Ye furies! whirlwinds! and ye treach’rous rocks!Ye ministers of death! devouring fires!Convulsive earthquakes! and plague-tainted air!Ye are all mild and merciful to him!!
Oh what a twine of mischief is a Statesman!Ye furies! whirlwinds! and ye treach’rous rocks!Ye ministers of death! devouring fires!Convulsive earthquakes! and plague-tainted air!Ye are all mild and merciful to him!!
Oh what a twine of mischief is a Statesman!
Ye furies! whirlwinds! and ye treach’rous rocks!
Ye ministers of death! devouring fires!
Convulsive earthquakes! and plague-tainted air!
Ye are all mild and merciful to him!!
RICHARD TIDD
Was born at Grantham, in Lincolnshire. His age at the time of his execution was forty-five. He was apprenticed to Mr. Cante, of Grantham, but quitted his situation at sixteen years of age. He then went to Nottingham, where he lived two years and a half; from thence he came to London, where he resided several years. He thought it prudent to retreat into Scotland in 1803, and he stopped there for five years.
This flight was made in consequence of his having voted for Sir Francis Burdett, at the Middlesex election, when the Honourable Baronet was opposed by Mr. Mainwaring. Tidd swore that he was a freeholder—the fact being otherwise, and fled to avoid prosecution for perjury. A reward of 100l.was offered for his apprehension.
On his return from the north, he went to live at Rochester, and for nine years worked at his trade of shoemaker in that town. He was engaged in the conspiracy for which Colonel Despard suffered; but a temporary absence from town preserved him from sharing the same fate.
His last stay in town commenced on the 10th of March, 1818. From that time he attended all Mr. Hunt’s meetings, public and private, and was present at all the subsequent Radical meetings. He was introduced to Edwards by Brunt, at his own residence, Hole-in-the-Wall Passage, Baldwin’s-gardens. Edwards’s assumed violence suited his disposition, and he eagerly closed with every proposition, however desperate.
It was a most extraordinary circumstance that he had constantly an impression on his mind, for the last twenty years, that he was to be hanged. He frequently expressed to his wife that he should die on the gallows, who felt distressed at his entertaining such an idea, but he would still persist that such would be his fate. He was unhappily too good a prophet, and thus a life of irregularity terminated in the most ignominious manner.
Mrs. Tidd is a very decent woman; Tidd has left a brother and one daughter to deplore his fate.
Tidd, during the war, enlisted into more than half of the regiments under the crown, and received the different bounties. It is astonishing how he escaped detection; he was always in disguise when he enlisted, and, as soon as he had obtained the bounty, he deserted. When he had spent the money, he enlisted into another regiment.
It will be evident from this account, that the statements of his uniform good character and conduct published at the period of his first arrest, for the crime of which he was ultimately found guilty on an impartial trial by a Jury of his countrymen, were put forth by some zealous friend to produce a favourable impression on the public mind in his behalf.
JAMES INGS
Was a native of Hampshire. His relations were respectable tradesmen. He has left a wife and four children. Ings was a butcher at Portsmouth, and at the time of his marriage had a handsome property, consisting of several houses, and some money in the funds.
Trade growing bad at the termination of the war, and his property having decreased, some of his tenements were sold, and he came up to London about eighteen months ago, with a little ready money, produced by the sale of a house, and opened a butcher’s-shop at the west-end of the town. He could, however, get no business, and in a few months gave up the shop, and, with a few pounds he had left, he opened a coffee-shop in Whitechapel.
Business becoming dull there, he was involved in great distress, and at last was compelled to pawn his watch to enable him to send his wife and children down to Portsmouth to her friends, to prevent their starving in London.
At the coffee-house in Whitechapel he sold, besides coffee, political pamphlets, with which he was supplied by Carlile, of Fleet-street. Having given up the shop, and finding that there was no prospect of supporting himself and his family with credit, he gave himself up to despair. He had read the different Deistical publications during the time he sold political pamphlets, and, from being a churchman, he became a confirmed Deist.
He was a most affectionate husband and father; and his desperate situation, no doubt, was a principal cause of his joining the Cato-street plot.
Edwards, Adams, Thistlewood, and Brunt, had frequently visited Ings during the time he keptthe coffee and political-pamphlet shop, and when he was in more desperate circumstances, he became a fitter companion for persons engaged in such an atrocious crime as the one for which he suffered the sentence of the law.
For some weeks before the Cato-street discovery, Ings was in the utmost distress, quite pennyless, and the money he was supplied with to subsist upon was given him by George Edwards. Ings was also supplied with money by the same person to take an apartment, where arms and ammunition could be safely placed. He took a room in the house where Brunt lodged, and thither the greater part of the ammunition and arms was conveyed by Edwards, Adams, and himself; indeed, it was the depôt of the conspirators.
The following Letters were written by Ings in Newgate, the night before his execution:
TO HIS WIFE.
“My dear Celia,—I hardly know how to begin, or what to say, for the laws of tyrants have parted us for ever. My dear, this is the last time you will ever hear from me. I hope you will perform your duty without delay, which is for the benefit of yourself and children, which I have explained to you before. My dear, of the anxiety and regard I have for you and the children, I know not how to explain myself; but I must die according to law, and leave you in a land full of corruption, where justice and liberty has taken their flight from, to other distant shores. My dear, I have heard men remark that they would not marry a widow, not without her husband was hanged. Now, my dear, I hope you will bear in mind that the cause of my being consigned to the scaffold was a pure motive.
“I thought I should have rendered my starving fellow-men, women, and children a service; and my wish is, when you make another choice, that this question you will put before you tie the fatal knot. My dear, it is of no use for me to make remarks respecting my children. I am convinced you will do your duty as far as lies in your power. My dear, your leaving me but a few hours before I wrote these few lines, I have nothing more to say. Farewell! farewell, my dear wife and children, for ever! Give my love to your mother and Elizabeth. I conclude a constant lover to you and your children, and all friends. I die the same, but an enemy to all tyrants.
“James Ings.”
“PS. My dear wife, give my love to my father and mother, brother and sisters, and aunt Mary, and beg of them to think nothing of my unfortunate fate; for I am gone out of a very troublesome world, and I hope you will let it pass like a summer cloud over the earth.”
“Newgate, 4 o’clock, Sunday afternoon,April 30, 1820.”
TO HIS DAUGHTERS.
“To my dear daughters.—My dear little girls, receive my kind love and affection, once more, for ever; and adhere to these my sincere wishes, and recollect though in a short time you will hear nothing more of your father, let me entreat you to be loving, kind, and obedient, to your poor mother, and strive all in your powers to comfort her, and assist her whilst you exist in this transitory world, and let your conduct throughout life be that of virtue, honesty, and industry; and endeavour to avoid all temptation, and at the same time put your trust in God. I hope unity, peace, andconcord, will remain amongst you all. Farewell! farewell, my dear children! Your unfortunate father,
“James Ings.”
“To Wm. Stone Ings,and his Sisters.”
TO HIS SON.
“My little dear boy, Wm. Stone Ings, I hope you will live to read these few lines when the remains of yr. poor father is mouldered to dust. My dr. boy, I hope you will bear in mind the unfortunate end of your father, and not place any confidence in any person or persons whatever; for the deception, the corruption, and the ingenuity in man I am at a loss to comprehend: it is beyond all calculation. My dear boy, I hope you will make a bright man in society; and, it appears to me, the road you ought to pursue is, to be honest, sober, industrious, and upright, in all your dealings; and to do unto all men as you would they should do unto you. My dear boy, put your trust in one God; and be cautious of every shrewd, designing, flattering tongue. My dear boy, be a good, kind, and obedient child to your poor mother, and comfort her, and be a loving brother to your sisters. My dear boy, I sincerely hope and trust you will regard these my last instructions. Yr. loving and unforte. father,
“James Ings.”
“Newgate, Sunday Night, 8 o’clock,April 30, 1820.”
The following petition to the King was written by Ings, the day previous to his execution, it contains a repetition of some of the facts urged by him in his defence, but of course produced no effect in his favour.
THE HUMBLE PETITION OF JAMES INGS, TO THE KING.
I was born near Waltham, in Hampshire, but I have lived ever since I was about fifteen years of age at Portsea, and every one that knows me knew no harm of me; and the masters that I have lived with sent me a character for me to give to the Jury, but the Jury never saw the character.
I married a girl that I loved, and she had a little property, and I continued working till I could get nothing to do, and I went into business, and it turned out very unfortunately, and I lost a great deal of money, not through drinking and gambling, for I never went to a public-house in my life but to smoke my pipe, or for the sake of company. I can assure your most gracious Majesty, that I never was tipsey but three times in my life, and that was not through the love of liquor.
The times being so very bad at Portsea, and I had nothing to do, me and my wife made up our minds to come to London: me and my family left Portsea the beginning of May 1819. I thought when I came to town I should get a situation, but to my sad disappointment I soon found all my hopes was blasted. I tried every means I was master of to get employ for the support my family: I did not know how to act, for it was not my intention when I came to town to enter into business, I had a little money by me, for me and my wife mortgaged her property—a house I mean—to the full value of it, if it was to be sold now.
I went and took a butcher’s shop in Baker’s-row, Whitechapel-road, and I carried on business from Midsummer to Michaelmas. When I came to look over my little stock of money, I found it was very much reduced, and the summer being so very hot, was very much against me; and afterI had paid my rent, and a few little bills beside, my money was nearly all gone.
I left Baker’s-row at Michaelmas, and I took a house in Old Montague-street, Brick-lane, and I fitted it up for a coffee-house, and then my money was gone. It did not turn out to my expectation, for I did not take money enough, if it had been all profit, to keep my family. I persuaded my wife to return to Portsea with the children: the reason was, I thought she had better be among her friends without money than in London.
I remained in the house a short time after my wife had left me: there was a man used to come frequently and take a cup of coffee, and he used to enter into conversation about the Manchester massacre, and Government,&c.I did not make but very little reply, for I took him to be some officer.
After I had left my house, I met him in Smithfield-market; he said I have caught you out, I shall make you stand treat. I am sorry it is not in my power, for I am very short at present; if I do not get some work very shortly, I must sell my few things. What have you to sell? A sofa-bedstead—it is the best piece of furniture I have. I should like to see it; if I like it I will buy it, and give you as much as any person will. I took him to my lodging, No. 20, Primrose-street, Bishopsgate, and shewed him my sofa, but it did not suit him, and he took me to a friend of his, a broker, to buy my sofa, but it did not suit him, and we parted early in January.
I met him in Fleet-market, and he asked me how I did? I told him I was very low in spirits: come, he says, have a glass of gin—that will rise your spirits. No, I thank you, I never drink so soon in the morning. We walked up Fleet-street, and we went and bought the very sword that was produced in the Court, and I took it to the cutler’s, and I left my name.
If I had known at that time what was going to be done, I am sure I should not have left my name. He took me to the White Hart, and gave me beef-steaks,&c.for my dinner, and I thought he was the best friend I had, for he used to give me victuals and drink when I was very short; and this was Edwards that introduced me to the party, which I never should have known if it had not been for him.
There have been a great deal more said about me in the Court than is true, but it is of no use for me to try to contradict what has been said. I never was at a political meeting in my life not before this time, and I can assure you it was through Edwards, and the anxiety for my wife and family, which brought me to this sad unfortunate situation. I can assure your most high and mighty and gracious Sovereign, that I have been a true and faithful subject till now, but being in distress, and hearing the language I did, when irritated, took advantage of my distressed situation.
I know not what to say or how to address a King, but I hope your most gracious Majesty will spare my life—life for the sake of family—for I was not the inventor of this plot.
I shall in future, if your most gracious Majesty spare my life, be a true and faithful subject.
James Ings.
WILLIAM DAVIDSON
Was born in the year 1786, at Kingston, in Jamaica. His father was Mr. Attorney-General Davidson, a man of considerable legal knowledge and talent. He had several children.
William, his second son, was sent to England when very young, for the purpose of receiving an education suitable to the rank of his father, andhis own prospects. His mother was a native of the West-Indies, a woman of colour: she opposed her son being sent to England; but her husband was resolved: he wished William to be brought up to his own profession—the law. William was therefore sent to Edinburgh to be educated.
Having learned the first rudiments of education, he was sent to the academy of Dr. ——, where he studied mathematics. Having left school, he went to his father’s agent, a friend who resided near Liverpool.
After some time he was apprenticed to a respectable attorney at Liverpool, at whose office he remained near three years, when he became tired of confinement. He had for some time felt great inclination to go to sea, and the captain of a vessel, to whom he disclosed his wishes upon the subject, promised to take him out as his clerk on his next voyage.
Without taking leave of the gentleman to whom he was articled, he entered on board the merchant vessel, and soon had cause to repent, for after the vessel had left the port, he was compelled by the captain to perform duty.
On the voyage a king’s ship stopped the vessel, and impressed Davidson and many of the crew. He arrived in England about six months afterwards, and wrote to his father’s friend a supplicatory letter. His father’s friend sent for him, and at his own particular desire, apprenticed him to a cabinet-maker, in Liverpool.
Davidson was a personable young man, and was upon the point of marriage to the daughter of a respectable tradesman at Liverpool; but her friends sent her off, and prevented the match taking place. Davidson being somewhat disappointed, determined to leave England, and to visit his relatives at Kingston, in Jamaica.
He took a passage on board of a West India merchantman, and on his voyage againexperienced the misfortune of being impressed into the King’s service. He took the first opportunity of running away from the vessel on its arrival in port, and having obtained some money from his friends, he got work at his trade as a journeyman.
About twelve months after, his mother allowed him two guineas per week, which was paid him regularly through her agent. Davidson was employed by Mr. Bullock, a cabinet-maker at Litchfield. He was a most excellent workman, and was able to get three or four guineas a week, being a man of considerable taste in his profession, and chiefly employed in fitting up the houses of noblemen and gentlemen in the neighbourhood.
With his mother’s allowance he was able to live and dress very genteelly; and the company he kept was highly respectable. By some accident he met a young lady of the name of Salt, who resided at Litchfield; she was only sixteen years of age. She imbibed a strong regard for Davidson, and, unknown to her family, she allowed him to visit her. Miss Salt had at her own disposal, when of age, the sum of 7,000l.She communicated to her mother her passion for Davidson. Her mother objected to it; but finding that nothing could wean her from her attachment, she consented to allow Davidson to visit her daughter.
He frequently paid visits unknown to the young lady’s father: the latter, however, at length obtained information of these clandestine interviews, and laid wait for him; and, as he entered the garden late one evening, he fired a pistol at his head, and the ball it contained passed through Davidson’s hat. A constable was sent for, and Davidson was taken before a magistrate, charged with attempting to commit a robbery; but upon Davidson stating the simple facts ofthe case, precisely as it occurred, that he was courting the daughter, with the privity of Mrs. Salt, though against the desire of Mr. Salt, he immediately set Davidson at liberty, and committed Mr. Salt to prison for shooting at him.
While Mr. Salt was in prison, he sent for Davidson, and promised him his daughter, if he would not prosecute him. Davidson did not appear against him, and he was set at liberty.
Mr. Salt afterwards repented of his promise, and, to evade the pledge he had given, he told Davidson that he would not object if he would only wait till she was of age. Davidson communicated to Miss Salt the wish of her father. She replied, “You know my sentiments towards you now. I cannot say, if I remain single till I am of age, what they may be then;” and expressed herself angry that Davidson should be inclined to agree to her father’s proposal for deferring their union. Davidson had previously written to Jamaica, to his mother, and informed her of his intended union, and she had remitted 1200l.to a banking house in London, and placed it at his disposal.
Miss Salt was sent by her father to see a relative in a distant part of the country, and before she had been many months there, she married another suitor.
Davidson, who had entertained very great affection for the lady, upon hearing that she had broken her faith with him, went to a chemist’s shop at Litchfield, and in a fit of despair, purchased some poison, and took it; he had not swallowed it long before he communicated to a friend the rash act he had committed, when the latter immediately procured a powerful antidote, which Davidson took, and which destroyed the effect of the poison in a great degree, though he was unwell for a considerable time after. Whenhe recovered, he left the place, and took a large house near Birmingham.
With the money his mother had sent him he entered into an extensive way of business; but being, from the disappointment in his marriage with Miss Salt, rendered quite unsettled in his mind, he did not attend to his business, and in a short time the whole of his money was expended.
Previous to his acquaintance with Miss Salt, he was employed by Lord Harrowby to fit up his house, and had frequent conversations with the Noble Lord upon the plan of decorating the interior of the mansion.
After Davidson’s failure in business, near Birmingham, he came to London, and was employed as a journeyman by Mr. Cox, a cabinet-maker, in the Haymarket, to whom he had been strongly recommended, by some gentlemen forming part of the congregation of a Chapel at Walworth, which Davidson frequented, and where he also made himself active as a teacher to the Sunday-school attached to the Chapel. It was during the period of his service with Mr. Cox, that the circumstance happened alluded to by Davidson on his trial, of an indelicate attack on the person of one of the female teachers at the school; but we are compelled to state, that his account of the affair is directly the reverse of the truth. The fact was, that he habitually indulged in attempts of a gross and indelicate nature on the persons, not only of the teachers, but even of the children of the school; way-laying them on their return home, particularly in the evening after their attendance on divine worship, and taking improper liberties with them. The outward sanctity of the man screened him from suspicion, and the indelicate nature of his attacks silenced for too long a period the virtuous and innocent females,who were the objects of his vile attempts; but at length his conduct became too gross for endurance, and one of the ladies communicated it to the committee. This led to enquiry, and the result was the most perfect unmasking of the hypocrite, who was expelled with contempt and indignation from that society and religious community, which he had so long disgraced by making it the means of indulging his brutal propensities.
After this detection and exposure, his conduct was more narrowly observed, and his habitual lying, prevarication, and intrigue, became notorious. Indeed he seemed to delight in evasion, and scarcely ever spoke the plain truth.
About four years ago he entered into business for himself at Walworth, and then married a Mrs. Lane, the widow of a respectable man, who had left her with four small children; for a short time he appeared to be doing well. At length trade fell off, and he was obliged to remove to London. He then took a lodging in Mary-le-bone.
He had known Harrison (one of the transported conspirators) for several years previous to his coming to Walworth, and by him he was introduced to Thistlewood, and by the latter to Edwards, the spy.
Edwards frequently called upon Davidson at his lodgings during the getting up of the Cato-street plot, and was, for several weeks before, his and Thistlewood’s constant companion. Edwards breakfasted with Davidson on the morning before the Cato-street plot was discovered; and on the same evening, in the presence of Mrs. Davidson, gave him money to get a blunderbuss out of pawn.
On the Sunday night, when Davidson parted, for the last time, with his distressed wife, he expressed himself very strongly against Lord Sidmouth.
After he had kissed her, he said, “If I should betray a weakness when I come out on the scaffold, I hope the world will not attribute it to cowardice, but to my intense feelings for you and my dear children. Farewell, love! pray that God will take mercy on me, and receive my soul.” Mrs. Davidson then left him.
This unfortunate woman is left with six children; four by her former husband, and two fine boys by Davidson, both under four years of age.
The following letter was written by Davidson to his wife, enclosing the notice served upon him by the solicitor for the prosecution, that the indictment for high treason had been found by the Grand Jury.
“My dear Sarah,—According to the promise your entreaties caused me to make to you concerning matters of counsel,&c.
I have sent you here the order I received last night—an order for application to either of the several justices therein mentioned, whereby an order will be granted to the applicant for the free admission of counsel, solicitors,&c.But I would rather, for my part, use such an order for you and my dear children, in preference to counsel,&c.; and would now retain my integrity of not having any, only as it is the first time you ever ask the favour of being dictator, and as in such considerations I did grant you that request, I will not now fall from such a promise, to one whose sole interest and young family entirely depends on the result of this trial. Therefore, you can be advised how you are to act; for my own part, I am careless about it, as I am determined to maintain my integrity as a man against all the swarms of false witnesses,and I hope you will never be persuaded, or suffer the public to be led away with a belief, that I am fallen from that spirit maintained from my youth up, and had so long been in possession of the ancient name of Davidson (Aberdeen’s boast), and is now become feeble. Death’s countenance is familiar to me. I have had him in view fifteen times, and surely he cannot now be terrible. Keep up that noble spirit for the sake of your children, and depend that, even in death, it will be maintained, by your ever affectionate husband,
“Wm. Davidson.”
“Mrs. Sarah Davidson,“12, Elliott-row, Mary-le-bone.”
The following is a copy of the letter, which he wrote to Lord Harrowby, referred to in page 357, it is evidently a rank falsehood, written in the hope, perhaps, of obtaining a respite:
“My Noble Lord,—It is with the greatest pleasure I write to inform your lordship of my innocence of the charge wherein I am shortly about to suffer death. My Lord, permit me to inform your lordship, from the personal knowledge I have of your lordship’s family, it is impossible I could be guilty of the slightest intention to harm your lordship in any way. My lord, I have had the honour of working at your lordship’s seat, in Sandon-hall, Staffordshire, wherein I worked for Mr. Bullock, of Rugeley, and would at any time rather lose my life in your defence than to be an accomplice to harm you, or any other man, be his condition ever so poor, much more so many illustrious persons, and among them one I had so great a respect for, from personal knowledge, as your lordship. I declare now to your lordship, as I hope to be saved, that Edwards was the man who gave methe money to redeem the blunderbuss, which Adams carried away to Cato-street; I gave it to him not knowing of any plot: and, as I related to the Privy-Council, Mr. Goldworthy met me in John-street, Portland-road; he gave me a sword to take to Cato-street, and a bundle, which contained belts. When I found I was entrapped, I naturally attempted to escape, but never fired. I never had any pistols in my possession; and, in truth my lord, Mr. Edwards must know that I am not that man of colour that was in their party, if he will do me the justice to say so.”
JOHN THOMAS BRUNT
Was born in Union-street, Oxford-street, London. His father was a tailor: he apprenticed his only son John Thomas, at the age of fourteen years, to Mr. Brookes, a lady’s shoemaker, in Union-street. He served Mr. Brookes till he was eighteen years of age, when, his father dying, his mother purchased the remainder of his time, and his indentures were given up to her, and he supported his mother for some years by his labour.
At the age of twenty-one years he articled himself to learn the boot-closing; and, in a short time became an excellent workman: A prize-boot in the shop of a tradesman in the Strand was made by him. When he was twenty-three years of age he married a respectable young woman, named Welch. On the 1st of May, 1806, she brought him a boy, who is now living with his mother. He was fourteen years of age on the day his unfortunate father suffered the sentence of the law. Brunt was thirty-eight years of age.
The following lines were written by Brunt in the Tower, upon the Secretary of State sending a letter in answer to one written by the Major, that the alleged traitors were not to be allowed knivesor forks, and only to be allowed to walk on the leads an hour each day: