Margaret Caroline Rudd
Margaret Caroline Rudd
The repartee of one of Sir John’s myrmidons, often quoted by wags of the time as an excellent joke, is not without its moral. One of the doorkeepers refused entrance to a certain person on the ground that he had been told to admit only gentlemen.
“That is Mr ——, the great apothecary,” quoth a bystander.
“Oh!” returns the doorkeeper, “if that’s the case, he must on no account go in, for my orders extend only to gentlemen, and the whole room is filled with apothecaries already.”
It would have been well for Robert Perreau had he held no more exalted opinion of his station in life than the Bow Street officer.
To the delight of all thebon ton, the scent of scandal rose hot into the air. The charming lady who had passed as the wife of Daniel Perreau proved to be his mistress. Although she had lived with him for five years, bearing him no less than three children, her real name was Margaret Caroline Rudd, whose lawful husband was still alive. Being the daughter of an apothecary in the North of Ireland, by his marriage with the love-child of a major of dragoons, who was a member of the Scottish house of Galloway, her boast that the blood of Bruce ran in her veins was strictlytrue, in spite of the scoffs and jeers with which it was hailed by her enemies. Early in the year 1762, when only seventeen, she had married a dissolute lieutenant of foot, named Valentine Rudd, the son of a grocer at St Albans. Soon his society proved distasteful, and the fair Margaret Caroline eloped with a more congenial partner. During the next few years she lived the life of a Kitty Fisher or a Fanny Murray—a gilt-edged Cyprian—selling her favours, like Danae, for no less than a shower of gold. Of all her patrons, the most faithful and generous by far was a rich Jew moneylender named Salvadore, whose name remains still as a landmark in the purlieus of the metropolis. Good Lord Granby is said to have visited her out of mere affection. Among others, it was whispered that Henry Frederick, a gentleman of easy virtue, like all Dukes of Cumberland, became one of her intimate friends. Possibly she may have listened to couplets from theEssay on Women, for patriot Wilkes, the member of Parliament for the county of Middlesex, is believed to have cultivated her society, going to the extent of finding her a home at Lambeth. Peers flocked to Hollen Street or Meard’s Court to pay her homage. A favourite device of hers was to impersonate a boarding-school miss or a lady of quality. Few women of pleasure have possessed the fertile imagination of Mrs Margaret Caroline Rudd.
In May 1770 she met the foolish Daniel Perreau—not stupid from the woman’s point of view, since he was a dashing dog with a taste for all the pleasant things in life—and in an unlucky moment she accepted him as her protector. However, in other respects, although he had travelled far over the world, his intellect was no mate for hers. In business he had been a failure both at home and abroad. Three times, it is recorded, he was obliged to make composition withhis creditors. Only a fortnight before his alliance with the bewitching Irishwoman his certificate of bankruptcy had been signed. Still, he was a man suited to the fair Margaret’s taste, handsome, gay, and genteel, with a complacency that paid no regard to her methods of raising money—a partner, in short, who gave her back the status in society that she had forfeited.
Naturally, Daniel was more than satisfied with his beautiful companion, allowing her to pass as his lawful wife, forming an establishment for her in Pall Mall Court—the cost of which, since Salvadore and others were as lavish as ever, she appears to have provided. Golden dreams had captured his silly brain, and he believed that Exchange Alley would bring a more propitious fortune than vulgar trade. Funds could be obtained from his dear Mrs Rudd. Secret news from the French Embassy was furnished by his confederate, one Colonel Kinder—an Irish soldier. It would be easy to cut a brilliant figure at Jonathan’s, and restore his shattered credit. Thus, relying upon certain information, he insured the chances of war with Spain; but the Falkland Island convention happened to bring peace, and Daniel Perreau suffered his first big loss in the Alley.
Still, this did not deter him, for the finances of Mrs Rudd seemed inexhaustible, and sometimes he made a lucky stroke himself. In addition to her pretended fortune, which Daniel knew was not bequeathed by any relative, she declared to her friends that a windfall had come to her in the shape of an annuity of £800 a year from Mr James Adair, the wealthy linen-factor of Soho Square. This kinsman of the Pall Mall agent chanced to be acquainted with the maternal uncle of Margaret Caroline Youngson—a tenant farmer of Balimoran, County Down, John Stewart by name, anotherunlawful offspring, possibly, of the amorous major of the house of Galloway—and, after the custom of a man of the world, as he is described, he became even more interested than the royal duke in the fortunes of the pretty niece. It is doubtful whether his generosity reached the sum named, but with so many sources of income strict accuracy in detail may have been difficult to Mrs Rudd. Indeed, the despicable Daniel Perreau did not require them. It was a great thing to boast at Jonathan’s that his wife was a connection of one of the great Adairs. With such a surety funds might be borrowed easily.
Apparently, being much attached to her protector, Margaret Rudd was quite content to live with him in their humble quarters in Pall Mall Court, and to present him at appropriate intervals with pledges of their mutual ardour. Probably she shared his golden visions, hoping for future affluence. At all events, she gained no monetary advantage from the connection. Moreover, it was not until the beginning of the fatal year that she was mistress even of a house of her own, for the elegant residence on the west side of Harley Street was purchased on the 31st of December 1774.
Brother Robert watched with amazement the progress of the fortunes of his twin, for it was wonderful that bankrupt Daniel should be able to live in decent lodgings with a stylish lady, to pursue fashion in all its vagaries, and to throw about money in the Alley. A different man this Robert—solemn, laborious, and intelligent, making a hard-earned income of a thousand pounds a year. Nevertheless, his soul soared above his gallipots. It was his ambition to make a figure in the world, so that his wife could woo society with drums, routs, hurricanes. When he looked around he saw that fortunes were being won on every side. A wave of prosperity was bearing the empire on itscrest. The Great Commoner had wrenched America and India from the hereditary enemy. To these vast markets British seamen were carrying the exports of their country. At home, the clever inventors of the North, Watt and Arkwright, Hargreaves and Brindley, had increased the powers of production a thousandfold. England was setting up shop on a scale undreamt of hitherto in the world’s philosophy. Why spend one’s life in dispensing pukes and boluses, thought apothecary Robert, when the Alley is open to all who dare take advantage of this golden age?
Since this was his character, brother Daniel and his prettychère amiesoon tempted the misguided man to share their fortunes, glad to seek the cover of his reputable name to fashion new and more desperate schemes. For earls and bishops were clients of the apothecary, and ‘honest Perreau’ was one of his appellations. Yet to preserve the co-operation of such respectability a pleasant little piece of fiction had to be maintained. Brother Robert, not a fool by any means, was willing to assist their plans, but only in the character of an ingenuous agent; a method—as, no doubt, he pointed out—that must disarm all suspicion. Thus, when he canvassed his friends to advance money on bonds in pursuance of the new policy, he would be able to pose as the emissary of his sister-in-law Mrs Daniel Perreau and her doting relatives Messrs James and William Adair. Indeed, there was a letter in his pocket, authorising some such scheme, which, not being penned by the Pall Mall agent, probably was the work of the clever woman who could give imitations of other people’s handwriting. Such a letter would be useful in case his possession of an Adair bond was questioned, but most useful of all—and this most certainly Mr Robert Perreau would not point out to his confederates—in making him appear a guileless dupein the hands of an artful woman. Very cleverly had he arranged the saving of his own skin, this sly, precise apothecary.
For no game could be more hazardous than the one which the guilty trio continued to pursue. Forgery was needful to cover forgery. As one bond became payable another had to be discounted to provide the money. A couple of bonds to the value of nearly £8000 were cashed by banker Mills in the City. On two others the large sums of £4000 and £5000 had been advanced by Sir Thomas Frankland. In this way more than a dozen were negotiated during the twelve months that preceded the discovery. All were signed with the name of the army agent—the pretended benefactor of Daniel’s wife—and their total value reached the huge sum of £70,000. Thus the Perreaus had been able to continue their speculations in Exchange Alley. Their sole chance of coming out of the mischief scot free was a lucky stroke at Jonathan’s, or the death of one of their victims.
Public interest in the case was aroused no less by the personality of the prisoners than by the mystery surrounding the actual criminal. For the brothers on one side, and Mrs Rudd on the other, told two wonderful and contradictory stories. This most artful of women, whined the Messrs Perreau, using consummate guile, had revealed to them gradually a dazzling and enticing prospect. First Mr James and then Mr William Adair was represented as the lavish benefactor of their beautiful relative. Yet such was the modesty of these capitalists, that although they declared their intention of procuring a baronetcy for Daniel, and an estate in the country for Robert, besides setting up the twins as West-End bankers, they would communicate with Mrs Rudd alone! Moreover, such was the impecuniosity of these wealthy men that they were able to carry out their benevolentintentions only by the aid of notes of hand! However, the brothers protested that these assurances had been given to them by the lady, and that all the forged bonds had been received from the fair Margaret Caroline by innocent Daniel or ingenuous Robert, in the belief that the Messrs Adair, who had signed them, intended a gratuitous present. A most happy stroke of luck, coinciding fortunately with the period of their bold speculations at Jonathan’s! Yet what was Mrs Rudd’s motive in running these risks to provide funds from which she received little benefit, was not made clear.
Even more wondrous was the other story. Although her conduct at the house in Pall Mall—whether we deem her guilty or innocent—showed something of nobility, she had no mercy for her confederates after they had played her false. While confessing once more that she had forged the bond which the Drummonds had rejected, she declared that her keeper Daniel had forced her to do so by standing over her with an open knife, threatening to cut her throat unless she obeyed. An incredible story, but no more improbable than the other! With the exception of this compulsory forgery, Mrs Rudd avowed that she was innocent. Amidst all this publicity it is likely that poor Mr James Adair, who had been very much the lady’s friend in former days, would have an unpleasant time with Mrs James Adair, and with his son, young Mr Serjeant James, M.P., the rising barrister!
Such an entertainment was a novel and delightful experience for the British public. Since the wonderful time (fourteen summers ago) when mad Earl Ferrers had made his exit at Tyburn in a gorgeous wedding dress, and amidst funereal pomp, the triple tree seldom had been graced by the appearance of gentlefolk. Broker Rice, whose shady tricks at the Alley made him the victim of Jack Ketch three years after hislordship, was almost the only respectable criminal who had been hanged for more than a decade. Indeed, except Mother Brownrigg and Jack of the Sixteen Strings, no criminal of note had dangled from a London scaffold since the days of Theodore Gardelle. Yet a glorious era was dawning for the metropolitan mob, when, in quick succession, Dodd, Hackman, and Ryland were to journey down the Oxford Road—the golden age of the gallows, when George III. was king!
On Friday, the Ist of June, Robert Perreau was put to the bar at the Old Bailey. Owing to ill-health he had been allowed to remain in the Clerkenwell prison, and was not taken to Newgate until the morning of his trial—a privilege shared also by his brother. The President of the Court was Sir Richard Aston, who, as a junior of the Oxford circuit, had helped to defend the unfortunate Miss Blandy. By his side sat the Right Honourable John Wilkes, Lord Mayor of London, a quite tame City patriot now almost ready for the royal embraces, very different from the Wilkes winged by pistol-practising Martin, M.P., and hounded by renegade Jemmy Twitcher. This same City patriot—if we may credit one of Dame Rumour’s quite credible stories—whispered into the ear of the judge the most important words spoken during the trial:—“My lord, you can convict these men without the woman’s evidence.... It is a shocking thing that she should escape unpunished, as she must if you call her as a witness!” Which advice—if the lady had been as kind to ‘squinting Jacky’ as the world believed—shows that he was rising on stepping stones of Medmenham Abbey to higher things. At all events, instead of summoning Mrs Rudd into the box, the judge startled the world by ordering her to be detained in Newgate.
In spite of the efforts of his counsel and his friends, the Court did not put the least faith in the wilyapothecary, refusing to believe that he had been ignorant of his brother’s relationship to his mistress, or, if this were true, that an innocent man would obtain cash for a succession of huge bonds, drawn on the well-known house of Adair, at the bidding of a woman without making inquiries. Even granting that he was so credulous as to remain silent when he saw that suspicion was aroused, it was clear that no man of honour would strive to stifle mistrust by telling lies. Then there were other compromising circumstances. It was apparent that the Perreaus needed money to repay certain bonds that were falling due. Robert had antedated the latest forgery to make it agree with one of his falsehoods to the Messrs Drummond, for in the previous January he had endeavoured to obtain money from them by a fictitious story. Not only did the employment of a scrivener have no weight in his favour, but pointed to premeditation. In the face of these facts his guilt seemed clear. Notwithstanding an eloquent defence written for him by Hugh M’Auley Boyd, in which he protested that he had received the bonds from Mrs Rudd in good faith, the jury required no more than five minutes to return a hostile verdict.
At nine o’clock on the following morning there were similar dealings with brother Daniel. Seeing that his case was hopeless, he did not deliver the elaborate address that had been prepared, choosing to print it, like Pope’s playwright. Naturally, his expectations were fulfilled, and he was found guilty of forging one of the bonds in the name of William Adair, on which his friend Dr Brooke had lent him £1500. On the 6th of June, at the close of the Old Bailey sessions, he was sentenced to death along with Robert by Recorder Glynn, while on the same day Mrs Rudd was told that as bail could not be granted, she must remain in prison. In spite of their dishonesty, and still baser treachery, it isimpossible to think of the cruel sentence of the unfortunate Perreaus without a thrill of horror. Yet no qualms disturbed the tranquil conscience of King George, who believed he was doing the Lord’s work in hanging men and women for a paltry theft.
The charming Mrs Rudd was not disposed of so easily as her unlucky confederates. From April onwards she had attracted more attention than the skirmishes with our rebellious colonists at Bunker’s Hill and Lexington. While she was at large and the brothers were under lock and key, public sympathy had remained on their side. Moreover, her tactics were not too reputable, and until it was evident that she was struggling in her prison with the valour of desperation against overwhelming odds, popular compassion did not condone her shifty methods. Still, whatever her guilt, she waged her long battle with surpassing dexterity.
One of the foremost of her foes, and not the least dangerous, was George Kinder, the Irish colonel—Daniel’s emissary in the unlucky touting at the back stairs of the French Embassy—a gentleman who had sought vainly to win the good graces of Miss Polly Wilkes. There was no false delicacy about this warrior, as the letters in theMorning Postunder pseudonyms ‘Jack Spry’ and ‘No Puffer’ bear ample testimony, and soon he had made the whole world familiar with the amatory history of Margaret Youngson. Yet Colonel Kinder was too reckless in the delivery of his attacks, and, like many another dashing soldier, he found himself often outflanked. For Mrs Rudd wielded her pen brilliantly, and her replies to critics of the press were not unworthy—both in style and context—of a novelist of later days. At all events, the vulgar diatribes of Colonel Kinder helped to bring popular sympathy to the side of his fair antagonist, and this is precisely what the clever lady must have foreseen.
Another enemy, as inveterate as the Irishman himself, appeared in the person of a rough-and-ready sea-dog, ex-Admiral Sir Thomas Frankland—whom the Perreaus had swindled out of thousands of pounds—a lineal descendant of Protector Cromwell. More truculent even than his great ancestor—for surely Oliver never confiscated ruff or farthingale belonging to Henrietta Maria—he pounced upon Mrs Rudd’s clothes, and indeed upon all property that might help to repay his loans. Remaining loyal to his old friend the Golden Square apothecary—for the choleric gentleman was convinced that he was an innocent instrument in the hands of the woman—he seized anything that Daniel and his mistress happened to possess. In consequence of this brigandage there was a pitched battle between the employees of the admiral and the sheriff’s officers for the possession of the house in Harley Street, in which the former got the worst of the tussle. Running amuck at all who took the other side—Barrister Bailey, Uncle Stewart, the Keeper of the Lyon Records—each in turn received a broadside from the fiery old salt. Shiver-me-timbers Frankland—this Paul Pry of a lady’s wardrobe—wrought more good out of evil to the cause of Margaret Rudd than any other man, and his fair enemy was nothing loth to let him run to the top of his bent.
Nowhere was the diplomacy of Daniel Perreau’s mistress more remarkable than in the negotiations with her old servant, Mrs Christian Hart. Early in July there was an interview between the pair in Newgate: the handmaid compassionate and pliable; the prisoner full of subtle schemes against her enemies. Barrister Bailey was present, and a lengthy document was drawn up—a paper of instructions in the form of a narrative for the guidance of the faithful ‘Christy’—wherein was set forth the details of a wicked conspiracy, which theservant was to pretend that she had overheard, between old sea-dog Frankland and Mrs Robert Perreau to swear away Mrs Rudd’s life. Promising to learn her story and stick to the text, Mrs Hart went away with her manuscript; but, frightened by her husband or bribed by the admiral, in a little while she deserted to the other side. In no wise dismayed, Margaret Rudd retorted that ‘Christy’ had volunteered the story, and that the instructive document was a faithful copy of the woman’s narrative as dictated by herself, another copy of which she produced, attested by the faithful Bailey. Moreover, she alleged that the whole business was a thing devised by the Perreaus for the purpose of compromising their enemy, a most dexterous plot to make it appear that Mrs Rudd was endeavouring to create false evidence! Thus, even when the first scheme failed, she gained the effect desired by its very failure. Poor, persecuted woman, thought the big-hearted British public, and what a shocking old admiral!
A little later, the fair captive in Newgate triumphed over another enemy, one Hannah Dalboux, a second domestic. This Hannah had been nurse to the youngest of Daniel Perreau’s children since the mother had been put in prison. One morning in August the newspapers announced that the woman had refused to surrender the child, and that the woman’s husband had tried to thrash the inevitable Mr Bailey when he paid a visit with his client’s request. “The baby shall be given up when I am paid for its board and lodging,” was the sum and substance of Hannah’s ultimatum. All the same the child had to be delivered to its rightful owner, and husband Dalboux was locked up for the assault. A great opportunity, indeed, which Mrs Rudd did not neglect. All the journals were full of hints concerning the horrid old admiral, who had employed people to steal the lady’s baby as well as her petticoats—about thelast two things in the world a swell mobsman would choose, unless they were accompanied by the proprietress. Yet the salient fact, remembered by the British public in a little while, was that this inveterate sea-dog was the prosecutor at Mrs Rudd’s trial.
The well-known anecdote told of her by Horace Walpole, must, if true, have reference to an incident that occurred during her imprisonment in Newgate.
“Preparatory to her trial, she sent for some brocaded silks to a mercer. She pitched on a rich one, and ordered him to cut off the proper quantity, but the mercer, reflecting that if she was hanged, as was probable, he should never be paid, pretended he had no scissors. She saw his apprehensions, pulled out her pocket-book, and giving him a bank-note for £20, said, ‘There is a pair of scissors.’ Such quickness is worth a hundred screams. We have no Joans of Arc nor Catherines de Medici, but this age has heroines after its own fashion.”
Whenever a Gordian knot presented itself the undaunted Mrs Rudd was always ready with a pair of scissors!
Like all other popular entertainers, the fair Margaret Caroline had rivals in the public favour. On the nineteenth of August, “one of the prettiest young women in England,” Jane Butterfield by name, was tried for her life at Croydon on a charge of poisoning a foully-diseased old man for whom she kept house. Paramour also to this rotten William Scawen was Miss Jane, debauched by him when a child. Although the poor girl was acquitted amidst tears and huzzas, she lost the fortune that should have come to her, for her protector, who had listened to the accusations of his Dr Sanxy—the instigator of all the proceedings against the innocent Jane—lived long enough, unhappily, to cross her out of his will. For a while all England forgot Margaret Rudd in its generous sympathy for the beautiful heroine ofCroydon. Soon also the ubiquitous Elizabeth Chudleigh monopolised public attention, to the exclusion of everyone else, under her new rôle as Her Grace of Kingston; while the sex of the mysterious Chevalier D’Eon continued to be the subject of many wagers.
For six months Mrs Rudd remained a prisoner in Newgate—from the day of Robert Perreau’s condemnation on the 1st of June until the morning of her own trial on the 8th of December—using every endeavour so that she should not be brought to the judgment-seat. A few weeks after the close of the summer sessions—on the fourth day of July—she was summoned to Westminster Hall to listen to the ruling of Chief-Justice Mansfield, an unrivalled exponent of amazing decisions, with regard to her status as king’s evidence. Superfine, indeed, was the quality of Mansfield’s red tape:—“The woman did not confess that she was an accomplice, but an assistant by compulsion, therefore she may be presumed to be innocent, consequently there is no reason why she should not be tried! Only aguiltyperson can be admitted as a witness for the Crown!” Yet the great Chief-Justice had a more cogent reason still—one that is irrefutable: “Since the lady did not discloseallshe knew, she has forfeited indulgence!” Quite proper, no doubt, in a legal sense, but foreign to the eternal ethics of British equity, that has permitted ‘burker’ Hare to escape the halter, believing that it is monstrous to ask a jury to try a prisoner from whom a confession has been extorted under promise of pardon. There was no false delicacy about the learned Mansfield’s interpretation of the law.
However, his lordship was the autocrat of all bigwigs, and none but the most stout-hearted ventured to challenge his decisions. When the case was argued by her counsel before three judges, sitting as a Court of Gaol Delivery in the middle of September, one Henry Gould, who feared a Chief-Justice as little as a Gordon riot, appearsto have realised that the law must keep its faith. So he gave a flat contradiction to the ruling of the King’s Bench. “How can we know that the woman was cognisant of any other forgery than the one to which she has confessed unless we bring her to trial?” demanded this judge Gould. “And if we bring her to trial we break our word!” Nevertheless his two colleagues, remembering possibly the Mansfield temper and the Mansfield tongue, maintained the arguments of the Chief-Justice, and thus it was decreed that Mrs Rudd must go before a jury. Early in November twelve judges assented to this decision.
Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd at the Bar of the Old BaileyPublished dec.r15.th1775 according to Act of Parliament
Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd at the Bar of the Old Bailey
Published dec.r15.th1775 according to Act of Parliament
Confident that her long struggle had not been futile, since this breach of faith must shock the public mind, the beautiful prisoner prepared to face her terrible ordeal. In a letter from Strawberry Hill we catch a glimpse of her on the eve of her trial. “... She sent her lawyer a brief of which he could not make head nor tail. He went to her for one more clear. ‘And do you imagine’ said she, ‘that I will trust you or any attorney in England with the truth of my story? Take your brief: meet me in the Old Bailey, and I will ask you the necessary questions.’ ...” And when the time came she kept her promise to help him through.
On Friday, the 8th of December, she was placed in the dock at the Old Bailey. During her long imprisonment the popular sympathy had come over to her side, and a friendly crowd filled the galleries before daybreak. With much tenderness Judge Aston explained to her the reason that she was put to the bar, his chief argument being the elusive one that she had not spoken thewholetruth before the magistrates. No woman could have been more dignified or composed. An air of melancholy rested on her beautiful face, which appeared more pale in contrast to her garb of mourning. A silk polonese cloak, lined with white persian, was thrown round her shoulders. Beneath, her gown was black satin,appliquéewith wreaths of broad silken ribbons, her skirt draped upon the small hoop worn with an evening toilet. Above the tall head-dress demanded by fashion, a white gauze cap, dotted with small knots of black, rested lightly upon her powdered curls. It was almost the same costume that she had worn before the three judges.
Only for a short time were the spectators in doubt as to the result of the trial. None of the evidence was convincing; each witness seemed more feeble than his predecessor. Serjeant Davy, rough and ready, tore their statements to tatters. To the jury Mrs Robert Perreau seemed eager to swear aught that might save the life of her unhappy husband. Admiral Frankland, in the face of his petticoat theft, appeared to have pressed the prosecution out of greed and for the sake of revenge. John Moody, a footman discharged by the prisoner, must have been regarded, very properly, as a barefaced liar. The famous Christian Hart, another old servant with a grudge, who was answered on all points by the evidence of the indefatigable Bailey, could prove nothing concerning the forgery cited in the indictment.
All the while Mrs Rudd kept on passing notes to her counsel—more than fifty in number—suggesting questions to baffle the hostile witnesses. The trial lasted for nearly twelve hours. When the jury returned into court, after an absence of thirty minutes, Henry Angelo, the fencing-master, saw the gay auctioneer who was the foreman throw a meaning smile towards the beautiful prisoner. “Not guilty according to the evidence before us!” declared the jury, while the court thundered with applause. At last her bitter ordeal was over, and Margaret Rudd, smiling through her tears, stepped gaily into a coach that was waiting at the door of Old Bailey. Then she was driven, post haste, to her new home with the wicked Lord Lyttelton. Certainly this charming and clever woman was far from being too good to live.
Naturally, the acquittal of Mrs Rudd determined the fate of the unfortunate twins, who had been kept alive all this time pending the result of her trial. Only in one way could Robert, deemed the less guilty, have been spared. Had Daniel confessed that he was the forger, exonerating his brother, probably a pardon would have been granted. Not being built, however, after the fashion of martyrs, he continued to make frantic protests of innocence, thereby sealing the doom of both. For arguments that were incredible merely in the case of the apothecary became preposterous when applied to Daniel. Yet the loyalty of Robert was admirable, as although he knew that his one hope was to be dissociated from his brother, he would not pretend that he had been his dupe. Desperate efforts were made to save the unhappy men. A petition, signed by more than seventy bankers and influential men of business, was presented to the King. Mrs Robert Perreau with her three children, all in deep mourning, flung herself at the feet of the Queen. But good King George III. was a stranger to mercy, and Justice Mansfield was not the sort of person to make the introduction.
On Wednesday, the 17th of January 1776—a bitter morning, with keen frost in the air and deep snow on the ground—the two poor brothers were led out to die. When they were brought from the chapel into the day-room within the Press Yard, to await the coming of the hangmen, they found only a few faithful friends who wished to say farewell. For, to prevent an unseemly crowd, good Keeper Akerman stood himself at the gate of the fatal quadrangle, denying entrance even to his own acquaintances. Daniel Perreau, apparently unmoved, gave a bow to his friends, and then sought the warmth of the fire. Robert, less resolute than his brother, was unmanned for an instant by the sight of the cords and halters upon the table. In a few momentstheir steps were ringing across the flags of the courtyard, as with bound arms they followed the Sheriffs towards the gate. Those who gazed upon these poor victims of a merciless law testify that their tread was firm and their faces hopeful and serene. For, save in that first base betrayal of a woman, no one can accuse Daniel and Robert Perreau of cowardice. Five others bore them company to the grave.
Shortly after nine o’clock the City Marshals, attended by the full panoply of sheriffdom, started the procession. Next came an open cart, covered with black baize, where sat three of the convicts, and then a hurdle, dragged by four horses, on which rested a pair of wretches condemned for coining. And last, there followed the sombre mourning-coach—a special privilege—with the unhappy brothers. All around lay a winding sheet of snow, crusted thick on the housetops, piled in deep billows against the walls. A piercing east wind shot down the Old Bailey, while the prison gleamed in the frosty mist like a monument of hard black ice.
Beyond Newgate Street the bell in St Sepulchre’s high steeple rang fiercely over the frozen roofs, as though pealing forth a pæan of exultation upon the procession of death. Here there came a halt in the march, while from the steps of the church, in time-honoured fashion, the sexton delivered his solemn exhortation to the condemned prisoners:—
“All good people, pray heartily unto God for these poor sinners, who are now going to their death, for whom this great bell doth toll....
“Lord have mercy upon you,Christ have mercy upon you.”
“Lord have mercy upon you,Christ have mercy upon you.”
“Lord have mercy upon you,Christ have mercy upon you.”
Backwards and forwards around the mourning-coach surged the mob, clamouring with ribald fury for a glimpse of the celebrated forgers. Robert Perreau,sitting with his back to the horses beside one of the sheriff’s officers, pulled down the glass meekly, and gazed out with calm, unruffled features. Then the long journey was resumed. Over the heavy road the wheels and hoofs slipped and crunched down the slopes of Snow Hill, and toiled up the steep ascent into Holbourn. Standing erect in the cart, George Lee, a handsome boy highwayman, gorgeous in a crimson coat and ruffled shirt, doffed his gold-laced hat with a parade of gallantry to a young woman in a hackney coach. Then, while a hundred eyes and a hundred loathsome jests were turned upon her, the poor girl burst into a flood of tears. In another moment her lover had passed away for ever. Huddled in the same tumbril with the swaggering youth, a couple of Jews, condemned for housebreaking, shook and chattered with dread, their yellow faces livid as death, a strange contrast to their florid, bombastic companion. Shivering with cold, the two tortured coiners were jolted over the snow, bound fast to their hurdle, their limbs turned to ice by the frost. Within the black coach, the brothers listened calmly and reverently to the prayers with which Ordinary Villette, who sat by the side of Daniel, supplicated the Almighty to pardon these victims unworthy of human mercy. And all the while, the mob—forty thousand strong—shrieked, danced and hurled snowballs, maddened like fierce animals by the scent of blood.
It was only half-past ten o’clock when the cortege reached the triple tree. Two separate gallows had been prepared, for it was not meet that Hebrew and Christian should hang from the same branch. So the tumbril was drawn under the smaller crossbar, and, their halters being fixed, the two Jews were left to their rabbi; while highwayman Lee, and the coiners Baker and Ratcliffe, were placed in a second cart. Seated in their coach a little distance away, the two brotherswatched these ghastly preparations with unruffled mien. When all was ready Sheriff Newnham gave them a signal, and they descended to the ground. A moment later they were standing beside their three wretched compatriots. Then the Rev. Villette came forward to play his usual part. Holding the same prayer-book, Daniel and Robert Perreau followed the services with pious attention, their reverence forming a marked contrast to the swagger of the boy highwayman. For some time they were allowed to converse with the Ordinary, and each gave him a paper containing a last solemn declaration of their innocence. It was noticed that Daniel raised his eyes to the sky, and boldly asserted that he was guiltless.
At half-past eleven all was ready for the final scene. Ordinary Villette offered a last shake of the hand; Sheriffs Haley and Newnham bowed in solemn farewell. Having been fee’d by his distinguished clients, Jack Ketch gave a moment’s grace while the brothers embraced tenderly. Faithful unto death, the brave fellows exhibited more nobility in their last few hours than during the whole of their lives. As the cart drew away and their foothold slipped beneath them, their hands were still clasped together. For a full half minute their fingers remained linked as they dangled in the air, and then fell apart as they passed into oblivion beside their five dying companions. Four days later, on Sunday, the 21st of January, they were buried together in a vault within St Martin’s Church, Ludgate Hill.
No mob could have behaved with more indecency than the howling, laughing throng that gazed upon this scene of death, increasing by their wanton rioting the agony of the poor sufferers a thousandfold. With great difficulty an army of constables—three hundred in number—kept a clear space around the scaffold. Afterthe spectacle was over it was found that there had been numerous accidents. A woman was beaten down and pressed to death; a youth was killed by a fall from a coach. One of the stands near the gallows collapsed during the execution, and three or four persons lost their lives.
In the history of crime the case of the unfortunate brothers forms an important landmark. Although many a forger had gone to the gallows before, they were the first ‘distinguished victims’ of the merciless code. Thus their fate served as a precedent. “If Dr Dodd is pardoned, then the Perreaus have been murdered!” quoth the crazy king, when he was asked to forgive ‘the macaroni parson’ Henceforth, it was as safe to blow out a man’s brains as to counterfeit his handwriting. At last, when the first humane monarch for more than a hundred years set his face against such butchery the lawgivers were unable to preserve the bloody statutes that had slaughtered thousands during the half century which separated the deaths of Robert Perreau and Henry Fauntleroy. By the side of Mackintosh, Romilly, and Ewart, the fourth George is entitled to an honourable place.
Public opinion changed once more with wonted inconsistency after the acquittal of Mrs Rudd, and the apothecary in particular, as the bankers’ petition indicates, received the widest sympathy. Still, it seems strange that his guilt could have been doubted by reasonable persons. No other defence was open to him save the one he used, old as human sin—it was the woman!—and even this apology involved the most absurd pretences. Clearly, the fable had been prearranged between the conspirators. Treachery brought its own reward, and Robert Perreau, forgetting that there should be honour among thieves, was ruined because he did not trust his fair accomplice to the full extent. No doubtshe would have soothed sea-dog Frankland just as she pacified the bankers Drummond.
In all the sordid history the one bright spot is the loyalty of charming, wicked Mrs Rudd to her grimy confederates, for the scene in old William Adair’s parlour on that stormy March morning might well have cost her life. Had the bankers proved to be curmudgeons, the Perreaus would not have raised a hand to save her from the shambles. Since she must have known the men who were her associates, she must have realised also her own risk. Yet still she kept her faith, while perceiving that safety lay in betrayal. Truly a noble act of heroism, though based upon a mud-heap. Thus when we bear in mind how the two brothers repaid her trust, and reflect upon the breach of law-honour sanctioned by James Mansfield, there comes the obvious suspicion that, whatever her iniquity, the woman was more than repaid in her own coin.
Little is remembered of her subsequent history. A few days after her trial it is recorded that she visited the play in Lord Lyttelton’s chariot. During the following spring she was honoured by the polite attentions of James Boswell. On the 15th of May of this year, great Johnson himself declared that he would have visited her at the same time as hisfidus Achateswere it not that they had a trick of putting everything in the newspapers! Possibly other references occur in ‘Bon Ton Magazines’ or similarchroniques scandaleuses, now treasured in tree calf or crushed morocco, and vended at so many guineas per ounce. There is a hint somewhere that her charms had begun to wane, although she was only thirty at the time of her trial, for a life and experiences such as hers trace lines upon the face and dim the lustre of the eye. Still, whatever the cause, we may conjecture that her friendship with Lord Lyttelton did not last much longer than a couple of years, as, while he succumbed to thefamous bad dreams on the 27th of November, she died before June 1779 in very distressed circumstances. Possibly she was supplanted by the famous Mrs Dawson.
In the testimony of her contemporaries there is unanimity with regard to the beauty and wit of Margaret Rudd—the sole grudge, even of the women, being that she was clever enough to cheat the gallows. To pretend sympathy with those who were saddened because she received no punishment is superlative cant, for the penalty would have been out of all proportion to the offence. Thus the cheers that rang through the Old Bailey on that December evening long ago find an echo in our hearts to-day. Moreover, since it was needful to offer up a propitiatory sacrifice to Mammon, it was a shrewd common-sense that selected the brothers as the more deserving of the awful atonement.
In the scarlet pages of the chronicles of crime there is not another dazzling figure such as the mistress of poor Daniel Perreau. Yet she walks across the dim stage in the guise of no tragedy queen as Miss Blandy. If at all, she compels our tears amidst our smiles, and such tears are the most gentle and spontaneous. Light, sparkling, joyous, she chases pleasure with reckless laughter, meeting the fate of all who pursue the glittering wisp, heedless of the deepening mire through which they tread. It is wrong to watch her dainty person with delight, but we cannot avert our eyes. Alas,transit gloria mundi! One of the most excellent of modern critics speaks truly of this immortal lady as a forgotten heroine of theNewgate Calendar, and she—the idol of princes and lord mayors—has not received a niche among the national biographies!
1.The Female Forgery, Or Fatal Effects of Unlawful Love. J. Bew, No. 28 Paternoster Row. Price 1/6. “With a beautiful whole-length portrait of Mrs Rudd resolving whether to sign the Bond or forfeit her life. From the capital drawing of an eminent master.” (Published April 22, 1775.)
2.Forgery Unmasked, or Genuine Memoirs of the Two Unfortunate Brothers, Rob. and Daniel Perreau, and Mrs Rudd. A. Grant, Bridges Street, Covent Garden. Price 1/. “Illustrated with a New and Beautiful Engraving of Mr Dan. Perreau in the act of threatening to Murder Mrs. Rudd, unless she would sign the Fatal Bond.” (April 25, 1775. A pro-Rudd Tract, containing the case of Mrs Rudd, as related by herself, which appeared originally as a series of letters in theMorning Postfrom March 27 to April 10.)
3.Genuine Memoirs of Messieurs Perreau; (Now under Confinement.) With many Curious Anecdotes relative to Mrs Rudd; G. Allen, No. 59 Paternoster Row. Price 1/6. Brit. Mus. (April 26, 1775.)
4.The Genuine Memoirs of the Messers Perreau.G. Kearsley, 46 Fleet Street. Price 1/6. (Published May 11, 1775. Second edition June 8, 1775.)
5.The Trials of Robert and Daniel Perreau.T. Bell, at (No. 26) the Top of Bell-Yard, near Temple Bar. Taken down in shorthand by Joseph Gurney. (June 6, 1775.)
6.Mr. Daniel Perreau’s Narrative of His Unhappy Case.T. Evans, No. 50 in the Strand, near York Buildings. Price 2/. Brit. Mus. (June 9, 1775.)
7.A Letter to the Right Hon. Earl of Suffolk....In which the Innocence of Robert Perreau is demonstrated. T. Hookham, at his Circulating Library, the Corner of Hanover Street, Hanover Square. Price 1/. Brit. Mus. (July 13, 1775.)
8.Facts, or a Plain and Explicit Narrative of the Case of Mrs. Rudd. T. Bell, 26 Bell-Yard, Temple Bar. Price 2/. Brit. Mus. (July 1775. This tract contains the “Case of Mrs. Rudd as related by herself,” with the addition of her “Narrative,” which appeared originally in theMorning Post. July 1, 3, 4, 7, 10, and 14.)
9.Observations on the Trial of Mr. Robert Perreau.With Mr. Perreau’s Defence, as spoken on His Trial. S. Bladon, No. 16 Paternoster Row. Price 2/. Brit. Mus. (July 17, 1775.)
10.The True Genuine Lives and Trials, etc. of the Two Unfortunate Brothers.Illustrated with Two New and Beautiful Engravings, 1st. Daniel Perreau threatening to Murder Mrs Rudd .... 2nd. The two Perreaus lamenting their unhappy fate. J. Miller, White Lion Street, Goodman’s Fields. Brit. Mus. (1775.)
11.An Account of the Arguments of Counsel....On Sat., Sept. 16. 1775, whether Mrs. Rudd ought to be tried, etc. By Joseph Gurney. Sold by Martha Gurney, No. 34 Bell-Yard, Temple Bar. 1775. price 1/6. Brit. Mus.
12.The Case of Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd, from her first Commitment to Newgate on Thursday, the 1st of June, last to her final acquittal at the Old Bailey, Friday, December 8, 1775. J. Bew, No. 28 Paternoster Row. (December 15, 1775.)
13. The Whole Proceedings on the King’s Commission of the Peace, Oyer and Terminer, and Gaol Delivery for the City of London; and also the Gaol Delivery for the County of Middlesex; Held at Justice Hall in the Old Bailey, on Wednesday, the 6th of December, 1775, and the following Days. Revised and published by John Glynn, Serjeant at Law and Recorder of London. No. 1. Part I. Printed by William Richardson for Edward and Charles Dilby, price 9d. (December 19, 1775.)
14.The Trial at Large of Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd.Elucidated by such Matter as never before transpired. By Mr. Bailey, Barrister-at-Law. Sold at No. 26 Bell-Yard near Temple Bar. (1775.)London Library.
15.A Solemn Declaration of Mr. Daniel Perreau....Written by himself and Delivered to a Friend in the Cells of Newgate on Sunday, January 14. 1776. T. Evans, near York Buildings in the Strand, price 1/. Brit. Mus. (January 22, 1776.)
16.A Genuine Account of the Behaviour and Dying Words of Daniel and Robert Perreau.By the Reverend John Villette, Ordinary of Newgate. Printed for the Author and sold at his house, No. 1 Newgate St. 1776. Brit. Mus. (1776.)
17.An Explicit Account of the Lives, Trials, Dying Words, and Burial of the Twin Brothers.Brit. Mus. (1776. Without the publisher’s name.)
18.Mrs. Marg. Car. Rudd’s Case Considered, Respecting Robert Perreau.In an Address to Henry Drummond Esquire, J. Wilkie, No. 71, In St Paul’s Churchyard. Price 1/. (January 26, 1776.)
19.Mrs. M. C. Rudd’s Genuine Letter to Lord Weymouth....Together with An Explanation of the Conduct of a certain Great City Patriot. G. Kearsly in Fleet St. Price 1/. Brit. Mus. (March 5, 1776. The original letter appeared in theMorning Post, January 16, 1776.)
20.A Letter from Mrs. Christian Hart to Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd.J. Williams. No. 46, opposite Fetter Lane, Fleet Street, price 1/. Brit. Mus. (Published March 23, 1776.)
21.She is, and She is Not; A Fragment of the True History of Miss Caroline De Grosberg, alias Mrs. Potter, etc. J. Bew, No. 28 Paternoster Row. Price 1/6 Brit. Mus. (Published April 24, 1776.)
22.Authentic Anecdotes of the Life and Transactions of Mrs. Margaret Rudd... in a series of letters to ... Miss Mary Lovell. “In two neat pocket volumes, price 4/ sewed, or 5/ bound, embellished with a striking likeness taken from the life and engraved by G. Bartolozzi.” J. Bew, No. 28 Paternoster Row. Brit. Mus. (Published June 16, 1776.)
23.Prudence Triumphing over Vanity and Dissipation; or the History of the Life, Character, and Conduct of Mr. Robert, and Mr. Daniel Perreau, and Mrs. Rudd. J. Maling, Bookseller, the corner of Fleet Market, Ludgate-hill; J. Bradshaw, No. 40, St John Street, Clerkenwell; and J. Naples, Greenwich. Brit. Mus.
24.A Particular Account of the Dreadful and Shocking Apparitionsof the two unfortunate Perreaus. Brit. Mus. (Broadside. Published later than February 30, 1776.)
Lowndes mentions also:—
25.An Authentic Account of the Particulars which appeared on the Trials of Robert and Daniel Perreau.Nassau, pt. ii. 746.
26.The History of the Life, Character, and Conduct of Mr. Daniel and Robert Perreau and Mrs. Rudd.London 8. vo.
27.Law Observations on the Case of Mrs. Rudd.By a Gentleman of the Inner Temple. 8. vo. 1/6.
TheMorning Postof Thursday, January 18, 1776, contains a long account of the execution of the Perreaus. There are full descriptions in the other newspapers.
1775.“The Perreau Frauds,” pp. 148-150, 205.“Trials of the Perreaus,” pp. 278-284, 300.“The Case of Mrs. Rudd,” pp. 347, 349, 452, 603-5.“Poems on Mrs. Rudd,” pp. 443, 492.1776.“Petitions on behalf of the Perreaus,” 22, 23, 44.“Execution of the Perreaus,” 44, 45, 46.“Pamphlets on the Case,” 176, 278.1779.“Reported death of Mrs Rudd,” p. 327.1800.“Reported death of Mrs Rudd,” pp. 188, 483.1809.“Death of Valentine Rudd,” p. 581.1834.Reference to the Perreau Case,videobituary notice of Alex. Adair, part ii. p. 318.The report of the celebrated Mrs Rudd’s death in vol. lxx. is inaccurate, as reference to the parish register of Hardingstone, Northampton, shows that a Mrs William Rudd was buried on February 7, 1800. There is evidence that she died in 1779.
1775.“The Perreau Frauds,” pp. 148-150, 205.“Trials of the Perreaus,” pp. 278-284, 300.“The Case of Mrs. Rudd,” pp. 347, 349, 452, 603-5.“Poems on Mrs. Rudd,” pp. 443, 492.1776.“Petitions on behalf of the Perreaus,” 22, 23, 44.“Execution of the Perreaus,” 44, 45, 46.“Pamphlets on the Case,” 176, 278.1779.“Reported death of Mrs Rudd,” p. 327.1800.“Reported death of Mrs Rudd,” pp. 188, 483.1809.“Death of Valentine Rudd,” p. 581.1834.Reference to the Perreau Case,videobituary notice of Alex. Adair, part ii. p. 318.The report of the celebrated Mrs Rudd’s death in vol. lxx. is inaccurate, as reference to the parish register of Hardingstone, Northampton, shows that a Mrs William Rudd was buried on February 7, 1800. There is evidence that she died in 1779.
1775.
“The Perreau Frauds,” pp. 148-150, 205.“Trials of the Perreaus,” pp. 278-284, 300.“The Case of Mrs. Rudd,” pp. 347, 349, 452, 603-5.“Poems on Mrs. Rudd,” pp. 443, 492.
1776.
“Petitions on behalf of the Perreaus,” 22, 23, 44.“Execution of the Perreaus,” 44, 45, 46.“Pamphlets on the Case,” 176, 278.
1779.
“Reported death of Mrs Rudd,” p. 327.
1800.
“Reported death of Mrs Rudd,” pp. 188, 483.
1809.
“Death of Valentine Rudd,” p. 581.
1834.
Reference to the Perreau Case,videobituary notice of Alex. Adair, part ii. p. 318.The report of the celebrated Mrs Rudd’s death in vol. lxx. is inaccurate, as reference to the parish register of Hardingstone, Northampton, shows that a Mrs William Rudd was buried on February 7, 1800. There is evidence that she died in 1779.
The report of the celebrated Mrs Rudd’s death in vol. lxx. is inaccurate, as reference to the parish register of Hardingstone, Northampton, shows that a Mrs William Rudd was buried on February 7, 1800. There is evidence that she died in 1779.
(1775), pp. 300-307, 356-7, 376, 429, 488, 602, 657.(1775), pp. 53-54, 161, 327.
(1775), pp. 300, 482, 629.(1776), p. 39.
(1775), pp. 119, 297, 304, 390, 475, 655.(1776), pp. 41-43.
(1775), pp. 33, 98.(1776), pp. 171, 223, 247, 291.
V.Notes and Queries.
Third Series, v. 404, 442, 500; vi. 35, 96, 176, 254.Fourth Series, viii. 548; ix. 99, 130, 197.Fifth Series, v. 20.Eighth Series, vii. 267; x. 196, 242, 426; xi. 32.Although both words and music may have been plagiarised from old Irish ballad and old Irish melody, it is probable that the story of Surgeon Robert Adair and Lady Caroline Keppel suggested the later version of John Braham, December 17, 1811.
Third Series, v. 404, 442, 500; vi. 35, 96, 176, 254.Fourth Series, viii. 548; ix. 99, 130, 197.Fifth Series, v. 20.Eighth Series, vii. 267; x. 196, 242, 426; xi. 32.
Although both words and music may have been plagiarised from old Irish ballad and old Irish melody, it is probable that the story of Surgeon Robert Adair and Lady Caroline Keppel suggested the later version of John Braham, December 17, 1811.
Note.—We are indebted to Sir Thomas Frankland for one of the most charming mezzotints by Wm. Ward, after Hoppner—a picture of his two daughters.
About the time that Miss Blandy was commencing her ill-fated amour with Captain Cranstoun, a dark-eyed boy with earnest, clear-cut features, often carrying a portfolio of drawings under his arm, might have been met by any one who strolled along Fleet Street or the Strand in the early morning between Charing Cross and the Old Bailey. From his home beneath the grim shadow of Newgate prison, where his father, Edward Ryland, prints and engraves in a house next door to that in which thief-taker Wild levied blackmail, the young artist trudges each day to the St Martin’s Lane Academy. And should one meet him in the autumn of 1749, he will be wearing a suit of solemn black; and his grave, eager face will seem more sombre than wont, for his patron and godfather, the good and kind Sir Watkin Williams-Wynne, has been killed by a fall from his horse, to the unspeakable grief of every son of gallant little Wales.