THOMAS WITHERINGTON.
This person was the son of a worthy gentleman of Carlisle, in the county of Cumberland, who possessed a considerable estate, and brought up his children suitably to his condition. Thomas, the subject of this memoir, received a liberal education, as his father intended that he should live free from the toil and hazard of business. The father dying, Thomas came into possession of the estate, which soon procured him a rich wife, who afterwards proved the chief cause of his ruin. She was loose in her conduct, and violated her matrimonial obligations, which drove him from his house to seek happiness in the tavern, or in the company of abandoned women. These by degrees perverted all the good qualities he possessed; nor was his estate less subject to ruin and decay; for the mortgages he made on it, in order to support his luxury and profusion, soon reduced his circumstances to the lowest ebb. Undisciplined in poverty, how could a man of his late affluent fortune, and unacquainted with business, procure a maintenance? He was possessed of too independent a spirit to stoop either to relations or friends for a precarious subsistence, and to solicit the benevolence of his fellow-men was what his soul abhorred. Starve he could not, and only one way of living presented itself to his choice—levying contributions on the road. This he followed for six or seven years with tolerable success; and we shall now relate a few of his most remarkable adventures.
Upon his first outset he repaired to a friend, and with a grave face lamented his late irregularities, and declaredhis determination to live by some honest means; but for this purpose he required a little money to assist him in establishing himself, and hoped his friend would find it convenient to accommodate him. His friend was overjoyed at the prospect of his amendment and willingly lent him fifty pounds, with as many blessings and exhortations. But Witherington frustrated the expectations of his friend, and with the money bought himself a horse and other necessaries fit for his future enterprises.
One night he stopped at Keswick in Cumberland, where he met with the dean of Carlisle. Being equally learned, they found each other’s company very agreeable, and Witherington passed himself off for a gentleman who had just returned from the East Indies with a handsome competency, and was returning to his friends at Carlisle, among whom he had a rich uncle, who had lately died and left him sole heir to his estate. “True,” said the dean, “I have often heard of a relation ofMr.Witherington’s being in the East Indies; but his family, I can assure you, have received repeated information of his death, and what prejudice this may have done to your affairs at Carlisle, to-morrow will be the best witness.” The dean then told him his own history, and concluded in these words:—“And I am now informed that, to support his extravagance,Mr.Witherington frequents the road, and takes a purse wherever he can extort it.” Our adventurer seemed greatly hurt at this account of his cousin’s conduct, and thanked the doctor for his information. Being both fond of their bottle, they spent the evening very agreeably, promising to travel together on the following day to Carlisle.
Having arrived at a wood on the road, Witherington rode close up to the dean, and whispered into his ear, “Sir, though the place at which we now are is private enough, yet willing that what I do should be still more private, I take the liberty to acquaint you, that you have something about you that will do me an infinite piece of service.”—“What’s that?” answered the doctor;“you shall have it with all my heart.”—“I thank you for your civility,” said Witherington. “Well then, to be plain, the money in your breeches-pocket will be very serviceable to me at the present moment.”—“Money!” rejoined the doctor; “sir, you cannot want money; your garb and person both tell me you are in no want.”—“Ay, but I am; for the ship in which I came over happened to be wrecked, so that I have lost all I brought from India; and I would not enter Carlisle for the whole world without money in my pocket.”—“Friend, I may urge the same plea, and say I would not go into that city without money for the world; but what then? If you areMr.Witherington’s nephew, as you pretend to be, you would not thus peremptorily demand money of me, for at Carlisle your friends will supply you; and if you have none now, I will bear your expenses to that place.”—“Sir,” said Witherington, “the question is not whether I have money or not, but concerning that which is in your pocket; for, as you say, my cousin is obliged to take purses on the road, and so am I; so that if I take yours, you may ride to Carlisle, and say thatMr.Witherington met you and demanded your charity.” After a good deal of expostulation, the dean, terrified at the sight of a pistol, delivered to Witherington a purse containing fifty guineas, before he pursued his journey to Carlisle, and our adventurer set off in search of more prey.
Witherington being at Newcastle, put up at an inn where some commissioners were to meet that day, to make choice of a schoolmaster for a neighboring parish. The salary being very handsome, many spruce young clergymen and students appeared as competitors: and, being possessed of sufficient qualifications, Witherington bethought him of standing a candidate, for which purpose he borrowed coarse, plain clothes from the landlord, to make his appearance correspond with the conduct he meant to pursue. Repairing to the kitchen, and sitting down by the fire, he called for a mug of ale, putting on a very dejected countenance.One of the freeholders who came to vote, observing him as he stood warming himself by the fire, was taken with his countenance, and entered into conversation with him. He very modestly let the freeholder know that he had come with the intention of standing a candidate, but when he saw so many gay young men as competitors, and fearing that every thing would be carried by interest, he resolved to return home. “Nay,” replied the honest freeholder, “as long as I have a vote, justice shall be done; and never fear, for egad, I say, merit shall have the place, and if thou be found the best scholar, thou shalt certainly have it; and to show you I am sincere, I now, though you are a stranger to me, promise you my vote, and my interest likewise.” Witherington thanked him for his civility, and consented to wait for the trial. A keen contest took place between two of the most successful candidates, when our adventurer was introduced as a man who had so much modesty as to make him fearful of appearing before so great an assembly, but who nevertheless wished to be examined. He confronted the two opponents, and exposed their ignorance to the trustees, who were all astonished at the stranger. He showed it was not a number of Greek and Latin sentences that constituted a good scholar, but a thorough knowledge of the nature of the book which he read, and the ability to discover the design of the author. Suffice it to say, that Witherington was installed into the office with all the usual formalities.
Conducting himself with much moderation and humility, the churchwardens of the parish took a great fancy to him, and made him overseer and tax-gatherer to the parish; and the rector likewise committed to his care the collection of his rents and tithes. This friendly disposition towards Witherington extended itself over the parish, and never was a man believed to be more honest or industrious. Of the latter qualification, we must say, in this instance, he showed himself possessed; but of the former he had never any notion. His opinion had great weight with the heads of theparish, and he proposed the erection of a new school-house, and for this purpose offered, himself, to sink a year’s salary towards a subscription. It was willingly agreed to, and contributions came in from all quarters, and a sum exceeding 700l.was speedily raised. The mind of Witherington was now big with hope, but, being discovered by two gentlemen who had come from Carlisle, he made off with all the subscriptions and funds in his possession, leaving the parish to reflect upon the honesty of their schoolmaster and their own credulity.
He went to Buckinghamshire, and, being at an inn in the county town, fell into the company of some farmers, who, he discovered, had come to meet their landlord with their rents. They were all tenants of the same proprietor, and poured out many complaints against him for his harshness and injustice, in not allowing some deduction from their rents, or time after quarter-day, when they met with severe losses from bad weather or other causes. He learned that this landlord was very rich, and so miserly that he denied himself even the necessaries of life; our adventurer, therefore, determined, if possible, to rifle him before he parted.
The landlord soon arrived, and the company were shown into a private room; Witherington, upon pretence of being a friend of one of the farmers, and a lawyer, accompanied them. He requested a sight of the last receipts, and examined them with great care, and then addressing the landlord, “Sir,” said he, “these honest men, my friends, have been your tenants for a long time, and have paid their rents very regularly; but why they should be so fond of your farms at so high a rent I am unable to comprehend, when they may get other lands much cheaper; and that you should be so unreasonable as not to allow a reduction in their rents in a season like this, when they must lose instead of gaining by their farms. It is your duty, sir, to encourage them, and not to grind them so unmercifully, else they will soon be obliged to leave your farms altogether.” The landlord endeavored toargue the point; and the farmers seeing the drift of Witherington, refrained from interfering. “It is unnecessary,” resumed Witherington, “to have more parley about it; I insist, on behalf of my friends here, that you remit them a hundred and fifty pounds of the three hundred you expect them to pay you, for I am told you have more than enough to support yourself and family.” “Not a sous,” replied the landlord. “We’ll try that presently. But pray, sir, take your pen, ink, and paper, in the mean time, and write out their receipts, and the money shall be forthcoming immediately.” “Not a letter, till the money is in my hands.” “It must be so, then,” answered Witherington; “you will force a good-natured man to use extremities with you;” and so saying, he laid a brace of loaded pistols on the table. In a moment the landlord was on his knees, crying, “Oh! dear sir, sweet sir, kind sir, merciful sir, for God of Heaven’s sake, sir, don’t take away the life of an innocent man, sir, who never intended harm to any one, sir.” “Why, what harm do I intend you, friend? Cannot I lay the pistols I travel with on the table, but you must throw yourself into this unnecessary fear? Pray, proceed with the receipts, and write them in full of all demands to this time, or else—”—“Oh, God, sir! Oh, dear sir! you have an intention—pray, dear sir, have no intention against my life.” “To the receipts then, or by Jupiter Ammon! I’ll—”—“O yes, I will, sir.” With this the old landlord wrote full receipts, and delivered them to the respective farmers.
“Come,” said Witherington, “this is honest, and to show you that you have to deal with honest people, here is the hundred and fifty pounds; and I promise you, in the name of these honest men, that if things succeed well, you shall have the other half next quarter-day.” The farmers paid the money, and departed astonished, and not a little afraid, at the consequences of this proceeding. Witherington ordered his horse, and inquired of the ostler the road the old gentleman had to travel, and presently took his departure.
He chose the road which the old gentleman had to travel, and soon observed him jogging away in sullen silence, with a servant behind him. When he observed our hero, he would have fled, but Witherington seized the bridle of his horse, and forced him to proceed, bantering him upon the folly of hoarding up wealth, without enjoying it himself, merely for some spendthrift son to squander after his death. “For,” he continued, “money is a blessing sent us from Heaven, in order that, by its circulation, it may afford nourishment to the body politic; and if such wretches as you, by laying up thousands in your coffers to no advantage, cause a stagnation, there are thousands in the world that must feel the consequences, and I am to acquaint you of them; so that a better deed cannot be done, than to bestow what you have about you upon me; for, to be plain with you, I am not to be refused;” and hereupon he presented his pistol. The old gentleman, in trepidation for his life, resigned his purse, containing more than three hundred and fifty guineas; and Witherington, unbuckling the portmanteau from behind the servant, placed it on his own horse, and left the old landlord with an admonition, to be in future affable and generous to his tenants, for they were the persons who supported him, adding, that if he ever again heard complaints from them, he would visit his house, and partake liberally of what he most coveted.
The county, after this adventure, was up in pursuit of Witherington, and he retired to Cheshire with great expedition. The first house he put up at was an inn kept by a young widow, noted as well for her kindness to travellers, as her wealth and beauty. She paid our adventurer great attention, and invited him to be of a party, consisting of some friends, which she was to have that evening. He was not blind to the charms of the widow, and gladly accepted the invitation. The company he found to consist chiefly of gentlemen, who, he could discover, were angling for the widow’s riches. Witherington gained great favor in the eyes of the lady, and she asked him to favor the company with a song,as she was sure, from his sweet clear voice, he could perform well. Witherington wanting no farther importunity from a person he had fixed his affections upon, complied with the request, and sang an amorous ditty, very applicable to his present situation, and, with the assistance of a side glance and a sigh, enabled the widow to draw the most favorable inferences. He was completely successful, and the widow evidently vanquished. Witherington was now requested by the widow to relate some story concerning himself, “as certainly a person who could make himself so agreeable, and make others take such an interest in his welfare, could not fail to have met with something remarkable in his lifetime.” Witherington was all compliance, and begged leave to give a short recital of his life; and the company were anxious that he should proceed, expecting to be informed of something marvellous and mysterious.
He invented an artful story, the drift of which was to give the widow a high idea of himself, of the power that love had over him, and of the generosity of his own mind. His greatest misfortune, he said, was disappointment in love, the object of his choice having been stolen from him by an old rich uncle, against her inclination, and he stated that he had just left home, in order to divert his mind from the melancholy with which this had overcast him; “chance,” said he, in conclusion, “has thrown me into this hospitable house, where I cannot but own I have found as much beauty as I have been unfortunately deprived of.”
This story excited considerable interest throughout the company, more particularly in the breast of the widow, towards whom Witherington now evinced unequivocal marks of attention, which seemed to excite considerable jealousy in some of the gentlemen present. They all parted, however, on the most friendly terms, and our adventurer resolved to stay some time at Nantwich, in order to follow out this adventure. Next morning, Witherington renewed his assiduities, and both he and the amorous widow were equally gratifiedwith each other’s company; at length, determined to carry his point by acoup de grace, he declared a most ardent passion for her, which, after much prefacing and many assurances, was returned tenfold. She assured him, at the same time, that he had many rivals, but over these he had gained the pre-eminence, in her estimation.
A few days after the first interview with the other suitors at the inn, Witherington’s ascendancy was so evident, that a rival, who imagined he had the game within reach, was seriously alarmed, and had recourse to stratagem to free himself from such an opponent. For this purpose he sent for Witherington, and, with every appearance of disinterested friendship, informed him, that he had sent for him to caution him against further intimacy with the widow, to whom he confessed he once paid matrimonial court, but that he had thrown her completely off since he had discovered the measure of her guilt, and congratulated himself upon his escape. Expressing his detestation of the character of a defamer, and solemnly avowing the purity of his motives, he informed Witherington, that the widow was most fickle and insincere in her attachment, as any one might have discovered at the supper party: and, in order to gratify this wavering inclination, she had poisoned her last husband. He entreated him then, as he valued his own happiness and security, to desist from prosecuting his intentions farther, and hoped Witherington would pardon the liberty he had taken; for, hearing his acquaintance was to end in marriage, and considering the fortunate escape he had himself made, he was bound to prevent a stranger from being imposed upon.
Witherington at once saw the drift of his rival, and humored him accordingly. He seemed shocked at the baseness of the widow, and joined the other in self-congratulation. He thanked the gentleman for his kindly warning, and told him to leave the affair to his management, and he would soon discover the depth of her guilt; and that as they both seemed to have oneobject in view, namely, the possession of her money, they might then be able to make what use of the circumstances they found convenient and proper. The gentleman seemed satisfied, and they parted for the present.
Our adventurer returning to the inn, acquainted the widow with the whole conversation between him and the gentleman. She was greatly incensed, declared the world was very censorious, and vowed revenge at whatever price. Witherington judging that a rupture was about to take place, thought it high time to take advantage of the credulous woman; so, that evening, taking her aside, he observed to her that the best way of revenging herself upon his rival would be, if she had any serious intention of marrying him, to show her inclination by some mark of her favor that might distinguish him above his rival. Glad of this opportunity, she conveyed him into a closet, where, showing him all her money and plate, she told him that all these were at his service, provided he could deliver her from the importunities of the gentleman. Witherington assured her that she might depend upon him, and, taking his leave for the night, retired to his chamber. Here he wrote the following letter to the widow:
“My Dear,“Ever mindful of what a woman says, especially one who has been pleased to set her affections on me, I have written this letter purely to acquaint you that, being obliged to go to London, and the journey being pretty long, I could not do better than make use of the money in the closet which you were so good as to say was at my service. I was in exceeding haste when I began to write this, so that I can spare no more time than to request you to be sure of thinking of me till my return.T. Witherington.”
“My Dear,
“Ever mindful of what a woman says, especially one who has been pleased to set her affections on me, I have written this letter purely to acquaint you that, being obliged to go to London, and the journey being pretty long, I could not do better than make use of the money in the closet which you were so good as to say was at my service. I was in exceeding haste when I began to write this, so that I can spare no more time than to request you to be sure of thinking of me till my return.
T. Witherington.”
After writing this he went privately into the widow’s closet and secured all her ready money, which amounted to above three hundred pounds; then, going intothe stable, saddled his horse, mounted, and rode out at the back door, leaving the family fast asleep, and the widow and the gentleman lover to prosecute their amours as they thought fit.
Witherington, not yet content with the spoil obtained from the parish and from the widow, repaired to the London road, where he perpetrated a robbery between Acton and Uxbridge; after which he was detected and committed to Newgate, where he led a most profligate life till the day of his execution.
He was executed with Jonathan Woodward and James Philpot, two most notorious housebreakers, who had once before received mercy from king James I. upon his accession to the throne. One of the name of Elliot, the son of a respectable lady then living, was condemned at the same time, but afterwards pardoned. This individual, thus restored to society by the royal clemency, afterwards became a worthy citizen and a good Christian. Out of compassion for other criminals, and in acknowledgment of the king’s favor, his mother, upon her death-bed, bequeathed a handsome sum to the parish ofSt.Sepulchre’s in London, upon the condition of finding a man who should always, between the hours of eleven and twelve o’clock of the night previous to the execution of any unhappy criminal, go under Newgate, and, giving notice of his approach by the ringing of a bell, remind the prisoners of their approaching end, by repeating religious exhortations, tending to prepare them for death. Witherington and his companions in death were the first to whom these exhortations were given; and as the design is truly benevolent, and as they are often fraught with incalculable blessings to the guilty, we will gratify our readers by the insertion of them, and with this close the life of Witherington.
The person appointed, after inquiring of the criminals if they are awake, and being answered in the affirmative, proceeds thus:
“Gentlemen, I am the unwelcome messenger who comes to inform you that to-morrow you must die.Your time is but short, the time slides away apace, the glass runs fast, and the last sand being now about to drop, when you must launch out into boundless eternity, give not yourselves to sleep, but watch and pray to gain eternal life. Repent sooner thanSt.Peter, and repent before the cock crows, for now repentance is the only road to salvation; be fervent in this great duty, and without doubt you may to-morrow be with the penitent thief in paradise. Pray without ceasing; quench not the spirit; abstain from all appearance of evil; as your own wickedness hath caused all this to fall upon you, and brought the day of tribulation near at hand, so let goodness be your sole comfort, that your souls may find perpetual rest with your blessed Savior who died for the sins of the world; he will wipe all tears from your eyes, remove your sorrows, and assuage your grief, so that your sin-sick souls shall be healed for evermore. I exhort you earnestly not to be negligent of the work of your salvation, which depends upon your sincere devotion betwixt this and to-morrow, when the sword of justice shall send you out of the land of the living. Fight the good fight of faith, and lay hold of eternal life whilst you may, for there is no repentance in the grave. Ye have pierced yourselves with many sorrows, but a few hours will bring you to a place where you will know nothing but joy and gladness. Love righteousness and hate iniquity, then God, even your God, will anoint you with the oil of gladness above your fellows. Go now boldly to the throne of grace, that ye may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need. The God of peace sanctify you wholly! and I pray God, your whole spirits, and souls, and bodies, may be preserved blameless, until the meeting of your blessed Redeemer! The Lord have mercy upon you! Christ have mercy upon you! Sweet Jesus receive your souls! and to-morrow may you sup with him in paradise! Amen! Amen!”
Next day, when they were to die, the bell on the steeple was tolled, and the cart stopped under the churchyard wall atSt.Sepulchre’s, where the sameperson related from the wall the following additional exhortation:
“Gentlemen, consider, now you are going out of this world into another, where you will live in happiness or woe for evermore. Make your peace with God Almighty, and let your whole thoughts be entirely bent upon your latter end. Cursed is he that hangeth on a tree; but it is hoped the fatal knot will bring your precious souls to a union with the great Creator of heaven and earth, to whom I recommend your souls, in this your final hour of distress. Lord have mercy upon you! Christ look down upon you and comfort you! Sweet Jesus receive your souls this day into eternal life! Amen!”