“The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear,The blood will follow where the knife is driven.”
“The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear,The blood will follow where the knife is driven.”
“The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear,The blood will follow where the knife is driven.”
When, before this, did it ever fall to the lot of any subject to be borne down by the weight of calumny and obloquy, which now oppresses me. The press, which ought to be the shield of public liberty, the avenger of public wrongs—which above all should have exerted itself to preserve the purity of its favourite institution, the trial by jury—has directed its whole force to my injury and prejudice: it has heaped slander upon slander, and whetted the public appetite for slanders more atrocious: nay more, what in other men would serve to refute and repel the shaft of calumny, is made to stain with a deeper dye the villanies ascribed to me. One would have thought, that some time spent in the service of my country would have entitled me to some favour from the public under a charge of this nature. But no; in my case the order of things is changed—nature is reversed. The acts of times long since past have been made to cast a deeper shadow over the acts attributed to me within the last few days; and the pursuit of a profession hitherto held honourable among honourable men has been turned to the advantage of the accusation against me. You have been told that after the battle, I boasted of my inhumanity to a vanquished, yielding, wounded enemy—that I made a wanton sacrifice of my bleeding and supplicating foe, by striking him to the earth with my cowardly steel; and that after this deed of blood, I sat down to plunder my unhappy victim: nay more, that, with folly indescribable and incredible, I boasted of my barbarity as of a victory. Is there an English officer, is there an English soldier or an Englishman, whose heart would not have revolted with hatred against such baseness and folly? Far better, gentlemen, would it have been for me, rather than have seen this day, to have fallen with my honourable companions, stemming and opposing the tide of battle upon the field of my country’s glory. Then my father and my family, though they would have mourned my loss, would have blessed my name, and shame would not have rolled its burning fires over my memory!—Before I recur to the evidence brought against my life, I wish to return my most sincere thanks to the high sheriff and the magistrates for their kindness shown to me. I cannot but express my unfeigned regret at a slight misunderstanding which has occurred between the Reverend Mr. Lloyd, the visiting magistrate, and my solicitor. As it was nothing more than a misunderstanding, I trust the bonds of friendship are again ratified between us all. My most particular gratitude is due to the Reverend Mr. Franklin, whose kind visits and pious consolations have inspired me with a deeper sense of the awful truths of religion, and have trebly armed my breast with fortitude to serve me on this day. Though last, not least—let me not forget Mr. Wilson, the governor of the prison, and the fatherly treatment which he has shown me throughout. My memory must perish ere I can forget his kindness. My heart must be coldere it can cease to beat with gratitude to him, and wishes for the prosperity of his family.”
The prisoner then proceeded to read first a long written comment on the weaker parts of the evidence which had been produced against him, and then a number of instances from the Percy Anecdotes, exhibiting the fallibility of circumstantial evidence; but either the paper was so ill-written, or he was so imperfect a reader, that the effect was quite fatal to the flowery appeal which he had just before delivered to the jury. After having exhibited the utmost confusion, and stammered and blundered in a most extraordinary manner, he concluded his address in the following terms. “And now, gentlemen, having read those cases to you, am not I justified in saying, that unless you are thoroughly convinced that the circumstances before you are absolutely inconsistent with my innocence, I have a claim to your verdict of acquittal? Am I not justified in saying, that you might come to the conclusion that all the circumstances stated might be true, and yet I be innocent? I am sure, gentlemen, you will banish from your minds any prejudice which may have been excited against me, and act upon the principle that every man is to be deemed innocent until he is proved guilty. Judge of my case, gentlemen, with mature consideration, and remember that my existence depends upon your breath. If you bring in a verdict of guilty, the law afterwards allows no mercy. If upon a due consideration of all the circumstances you shall have a doubt, the law orders, and your own consciences will teach you to give me the benefit of it. Cut me not off in the summer of my life! I implore you, gentlemen, to give my case your utmost attention. I ask not so much for myself as for those respectable parents whose name I bear, and who must suffer in my fate. I ask it for the sake of that home which will be rendered cheerless and desolate by my death. Gentlemen, I am incapable of any dishonourable action. Those who know me best, know that I am utterly incapable of an unjust and dishonourable action, much less of the horrid crime with which I am now charged. There is not, I think, one in this court who does not think me innocent of the charge. If there be, to him or them I say, in the language of the apostle, ‘Would to God ye were altogether such as I am, save these bonds.’ Gentlemen, I have now done. I look with confidence to your decision. I repose in your hands all that is dear to the gentleman and the man. I have poured out my heart before you, as to my God. I hope your verdict this day will be such as you may ever after be able to think upon with a composed conscience; and that you will reflect upon the solemn declaration which I now make—I am innocent! so help me God!”
Hunt was next called upon, but his feeble voice and shrinking manner were strongly contrasted with the overwrought energy which had been displayed by his fellow-prisoner. He spoke of his agitation and fatigue, and desired that a paper, which he handed in, might be read by the clerk of the arraigns. It was accordingly read in a very feeling manner, but it contained little in reference to the charge against him, and insisted strongly upon the promise held out by the magistrate, on his first giving information upon the subject of the murder. The prisoner subsequently read a few words of comment upon Probert’s evidence, but in a very dejected voice; and at its conclusion, he hung down his head, evidently completely overcome by his situation.
Mr. Justice Park then summed up the case to the jury at very great length, and in a manner which brought the whole of the material facts of the case under their attention in the clearest and most impartial manner. After an address of several hours’ duration, the jury retired to consider their verdict. In about twenty minutes they returned into court, and declared both prisoners guilty.
They were then immediately called up to receive judgment in the customary manner, when Thurtell addressed the court in the following terms:—
“My Lord, before you pass sentence, I pray you to take into your serious consideration what I am about to say: I now for the last time assert that I am innocent. I entreat a short delay in the execution of the sentence you may pass, as I have friends now at a distance, with whom it is necessary that I should transact some business. It is for the sake of some friends who are dear to me, that I ask this indulgence; not for myself, for I am at this moment ready. My request I hope your lordship will take into consideration; and beyond Sunday is all I ask.”
The learned judge, at the conclusion of this address, which was once or twice interrupted by the ebullition of the prisoner’s feelings, announced that it was impossible that the request which had been made could be complied with, and immediately passed sentence of death upon both convicts. They then shook hands and quitted the bar, from whence they were at once conducted to their respective cells. Hunt, however, received an intimation that in consequence of the representations made with respect to the promise given by the magistrates, his punishment would, in all probability, be commuted to transportation for life.
The extraordinary interest and excitement which had been produced by this most remarkable case, from the first discovery of the perpetration of the murder, through the disclosure of the whole of the circumstances attending it, and up to the committal, trial and conviction of the prisoners, was now increased to an extent which may be pronounced to have been quite unparalleled. During the whole of Thursday, the day succeeding the termination of the trial, persons of all ranks and appearances were seen driving from every quarter into Hertford, in order, if possible, to obtain a sight of the execution of the malefactor, many being influenced in a very great degree by the anticipation that Thurtell would make some extraordinary disclosure in his dying moments. All the inns of the town were completely filled; and in many private houses beds were let at an enormous price. The most active preparations were made in the course of the day by the magistrates to prevent accident, and at the same time to afford as great a portion of the assembled multitude an opportunity to obtain a view of the scaffold and the execution; and arrangements were made, by which the space ordinarily occupied by the public in such instances should be very materially increased.
Meanwhile the proceedings in the jail on the part of the prisoners was of a nature to be most interesting. At ten o’clock on Thursday night, Thurtell expressed an anxious desire that Hunt might be permitted to pass the night in his room. His wish was immediately granted, and Hunt was introduced and was received with a strong manifestation of cordiality. Thurtell took him by the hand, and said, “Joe, the past is forgotten. I am on the brink of eternity, and we now meet only as friends. It may be your fate to lose your life as ignominiously as myself; but I hopethe royal mercy will be extended to you, and that you will live to repent of your past errors. Although you have been my enemy, I freely forgive you.” Hunt, who had entered the room with feelings bordering on apprehension that some unfortunate turn had taken place in his affairs, and that he was himself to suffer, was suddenly relieved by this address, and, squeezing Thurtell’s hand most vehemently, burst into tears; he then sat down by the fire, and Thurtell and he continued to pray and to read until one o’clock. Soon after one the former showed symptoms of fatigue, and lying on the bed, in a few moments afterwards he dropped into a profound sleep.
On Friday morning, at daybreak, every road leading to Hertford was thronged with travellers. At half-past six, Mr. Wilson, the jailor, entered Thurtell’s room and found him fast asleep. The prisoner Hunt was also in a deep slumber. Mr. Wilson, unwilling to disturb their repose, retired, and at seven o’clock returned again; but the wretched men were still asleep. Mr. Wilson now approached the bed of Thurtell, and called him by name, when he started up, and for a moment seemed lost to his situation, not even knowing where he was, but his recollection quickly returned. His breakfast was then brought in: it consisted of some tea and bread and butter; but he partook only of the former, and that but slightly.
At half-past eleven Thurtell and Hunt were conducted into the chapel, where the Rev. Mr. Franklin administered the sacrament to them. Thurtell read the appropriate prayers in a distinct and audible voice, and seemed fully impressed with the importance of this solemn rite. At its conclusion, Thurtell turned round to Hunt, and grasped his hand repeatedly, and renewed, in the most forcible terms, the assurance of his perfect forgiveness of the past, and of his being about to die in peace and charity with all the world. The chaplain and Mr. Nicholson, the under sheriff, then retired from the chapel, leaving Mr. Wilson and the prisoner Thurtell alone, Hunt having previously been reconducted to his cell overpowered by his feelings. Mr. Wilson, turning to Thurtell, said, “Now, Thurtell, as there is no eye to witness what is passing between us but that of God, you must not be surprised if I ask you a question.” Thurtell turned round, and regarded him with a look of surprise. Mr. Wilson continued—“If you intend to make any confession, I think you cannot do it at a better period than the present.” Thurtell paused for a few moments, when Mr. Wilson went on to say, “I ask you if you acknowledge the justice of your sentence.” Thurtell immediately seized both Mr. Wilson’s hands, and pressed them with great fervour within his own, and said, “I am quite satisfied. I forgive the world; I die in peace and charity with all mankind, and that is all I wish to go forth upon this occasion.”
The chaplain then returned to the prisoner, and offered him some further words of comfort, asking him, whether there was anything he could do to ease his mind with respect to his family and friends? Thurtell replied that he was anxious that the reverend gentleman should write to his father, and inform him of his extreme contrition, resignation and penitence, which Mr. Franklin promised faithfully to do. The unfortunate man uttered a short prayer, that the minds of his family might be strengthened under the deep affliction they must feel, and of which he had been the unhappy author.
At twelve o’clock precisely, Mr. Nicholson tapped at the door with his wand, as the signal that the hour of execution had arrived. Thurtellimmediately seized Mr. Franklin’s hands, and thanked him, not alone for all the personal kindnesses for which he was indebted to him, but for that Christian spirit with which he had inspired him, and with which he was about to depart this world: and the chapel door being thrown open, the prisoner went forth with a steady and assured step. He looked round with perfect calmness. The distance from the chapel door to that leading to the scaffold was not more than ten yards, and thither he was accompanied by the chaplain, the under sheriff, Mr. Wilson, an assistant of Mr. Wilson’s, and the upper turnkey. The church bell tolled as he advanced. On their arrival at the door, Thurtell again squeezed Mr. Franklin’s hand, and again exclaimed, ‘God bless you, sir; God bless you.’ He then mounted the steps, preceded by the under sheriff and the executioner, and followed by Mr. Wilson and the head turnkey.
Thurtell, on taking his station under the gallows, looked round with a countenance unchanged by the awfulness of his situation. His manner was firm and undaunted, at the same time that it betrayed no unbecoming levity. After regarding the crowd for a moment, he appeared to recognise an individual beneath him, to whom he bowed in a friendly manner. Previously to his mounting the scaffold, he had begged that as little delay as possible might take place in his execution, after his appearance upon the platform, and he now repeated the request to the executioner. His hands, instead of their being confined in the customary manner with cord, were held together by handcuffs, and his arms were not pinioned. He was still ironed, as he had been since his conviction, his shackles consisting merely of a moderate-sized chain, which was confined at his ankles, and held up to his waist by a Belcher handkerchief, tied round his middle. He was respectably attired in mourning, and wore a pair of black gloves on his hands. The moment he placed himself under the fatal beam, the executioner commenced the performance of his office, by taking off his cravat. He stood perfectly calm and collected while this was going on, and held up his head, in order that it might be the more easily removed. A white cap was then put on his head, and drawn over his eyes; but it was so thin as still to enable him to look about him; and he appeared anxiously to avail himself of the opportunity afforded him, by quickly looking round in all directions. As the clock sounded the last stroke of twelve, the rope was placed round the neck of the unhappy convict, and while the executioner was attaching the other end to the beam above, he looked up, and turning to him, begged him to “give him fall enough.” The hangman replied, “that he might be assured he should have plenty of fall, and that all would be right.” Thurtell next turned to Mr. Wilson, and repeated the same request; and that gentleman assured him, that his wishes had been fully attended to. All being now in readiness, Mr. Wilson drew close to the prisoner, and, squeezing his hands, exclaimed, “Thurtell, God Almighty bless you:” the prisoner pressing his hands in return, responded, “God bless you, sir.”
Mr. Wilson then stood back upon some boards placed immediately behind the drop, and the executioner having previously retired, the under sheriff, with his wand, gave the last fatal signal, the drop suddenly fell, and the unhappy man was in an instant dead. His sufferings were but momentary, for, with the exception of a few convulsive motions of his hands and legs, he seemed to be deprived of all sensation. Thus perished, in an untimelymanner, a man, who, but for untoward circumstances and the violence of his passions, might have been the pride of his family.
During the whole of this appalling ceremony there was not the slightest symptom of emotion discernible in his features; his demeanour was perfectly calm and tranquil, but though his fortitude was thus conspicuous, it was evident, from the alteration in his appearance, that in the interval between his conviction and his execution he must have suffered much. He looked careworn; his countenance had assumed a cadaverous hue; and there was a haggardness and lankness about his cheeks and mouth, which could not fail to attract the notice of every spectator.
There were many in the crowd who looked upon him with an eye of the greatest commiseration for his youth and manly appearance; but it cannot but be obvious that such a feeling must be considered to have been thrown away, upon a wretch capable of a crime like that of which he was guilty.
We cannot close our notice of this case, without bringing under the attention of the reader a report which was in circulation for a considerable period after the last sentence of the law had been carried out on this unhappy man, and which obtained almost universal credit. We have already alluded to Thurtell’s connexion with the sporting world, and especially with that portion of it which patronised the manly exercises of the “Ring.” Admirable as we shall ever hold that custom to be, which has been so often cried down, but which has always had for its object the maintenance of those principles, by which the courage of the British nation has been in no small degree supported, in opposition to that frightful and un-English alternative, “the knife,” we cannot but admit that some of the members of the body, through whose instrumentality those principles have been sought to be upheld, have at times exhibited themselves to be unworthy the notice and patronage which they have received. It would appear that Thurtell, in his acquaintance with fighting men, had so far obtained their esteem, that even after his commission of a crime which should have been most detestable in their eyes, and in the sight of every man of honest principles, some of them volunteered to assist to perform an act which would certainly have been unprecedented, had it been carried into effect. It was neither more nor less than to bear him away from the scaffold, before his execution, in defiance of the law, and in the face of the vast mob, which, it was known, would be collected on the occasion of his execution, the confusion produced by which, however, they well knew would aid rather than oppose their object. The volunteers from a body so limited as the members of the prize ring, it must be obvious, would be too few to put this design into execution without the assistance of others; and the means of procuring that assistance was yet to be obtained. With this object a communication was opened with the friends of the prisoner, before his trial; but the sum demanded, which was said to be 500l., not being forthcoming, the plan was given up; although not until the very morning of the day, on which the execution took place, for up to that time it was believed probable that the demand would be complied with. It was reported, also, that the scheme proposed was communicated to Thurtell by a confidential friend, and that he, knowing the facility with which the few javelin-men, who were mostly aged and decrepit, in whose care the preservation of the peace and of the limits without the scaffold was reposed, could be overpowered,fully believed,up to the moment of his execution, that it would be carried into effect. The extreme calmness of demeanour of the unfortunate prisoner at the place of execution, and the confidence which he displayed, added to the anxiety which he exhibited when the ceremony approached its fatal termination, favour this belief; and although his conduct in the gaol was of a character to lead to the supposition that he was in reality prepared to meet that death which he was doomed so soon to receive, it is by no means unlikely that he was at the same time treasuring up in his own mind the possibilities of his escape from the fate which awaited him.
With regard to the inducement which we have already noticed as having been generally believed to have led the wretched man on to the commission of so foul a crime, namely, the hope of procuring a large booty; for the supposed “bank” of Mr. Weare was generally believed to amount to nearly 1,000l.; from the testimony of the witness Probert, it would appear that he was unsuccessful in his object, while at the same time the observation made by Thurtell, on their going to search the body, (itself a corroborative fact,) that he had got all except the pocket-book, clearly exhibits that the anticipation was that which we have pointed out. Where or how the “bank” was disposed of, has never been shown; but there were not wanting those among the companions of Probert and Hunt, who suggested that it had been in reality found, and hidden by Thurtell, until an opportunity was afforded for its removal, unknown to his companions in the plot. It is a well ascertained fact, that he was not previously in possession of means sufficient to defray the expenses of a defence, which was known to have cost a very large sum of money; and it was very generally believed that the produce of the double robbery of Mr. Weare, and of the prisoner’s companions, from whom he kept their share of the booty, (if the suggestion thrown out be well founded,) was applied to the payment of his attorney’s bill.
We have only to add that Hunt was reprieved, and was subsequently ordered to be transported for life. It was for some time reported that he had died on his voyage to Australia; but he in fact arrived in Sydney in good health; and by his excellent conduct while there procured for himself a ticket of leave, by which he was exempted from all the immediate consequences of his conviction, although he was not absolutely restored to freedom. He was subsequently appointed chief constable at Paramatta, a large town in the interior, when he became generally well liked from his quiet manners; and it has been reported that he died in the colony, within the last few years, but the truth of the rumour cannot be ascertained by reference to any document in this country. Probert met the fate which he so justly deserved within a short time of his escaping from punishment for his connexion with this case, in a manner and for an offence which we shall hereafter in due course describe.
ALTHOUGHthe offence for which this person was executed did not occur within the district of our own country, yet as the malefactor was a British subject, the particulars of the horrid deed of which he was guilty, and which was of a nature most disgustingly appalling, may not be considered out of place in our catalogue.
In the month of November 1823, the prisoner surrendered himself at a place called Macquarrie Harbour, in Van Diemen’s Land—of which place it was the penal settlement, and which was therefore inhabited only by persons twice transported, and the guards necessary to keep them in subordination—and charged himself with having been guilty of the murder of one Cox, a convict, who had escaped with him from the same settlement only a short time before, and whom he had despatched, for the purpose of preserving himself from starvation by devouring his flesh. It would be useless for us to go into a detail of the circumstances proved on his trial at Hobart Town on the 21st June 1824, which were of a nature far less horrible than those which he confessed immediately before his execution for the offence with which he charged himself.
This confession was in the following terms. “I was born in the county of Fermanagh, in the north of Ireland, where in the 26th year of my age I was convicted on a charge of stealing six pairs of shoes, and received sentence to be transported for seven years. I arrived at Hobart Town, in the ship Castle Forbes, and was assigned to Mr. John Bellenger, with whom I remained about nine months, at the expiration of which time I was returned to the government superintendant, in consequence of some misconduct of which I had been guilty. In a few months afterwards, I was assigned to a constable named Cane; but I had stayed with him only sixteen weeks, when being carried before a magistrate for some offence, of which I had been guilty, I was ordered to receive fifty lashes, and to be returned again to Crown labour. I was subsequently again assigned to a Mr. Scattergood, at New Norfolk, but I absconded from his service into the woods, where I joined Laughton, Saunders, Latton, and Atkinson, who were at large in the bush. After about three months spent in ‘ranging,’ I surrendered upon a proclamation issued by the Governor, and was pardoned; but I shortly afterwards forged some orders, upon which I obtained property. On learning that the fraud was discovered, I was induced once more to make off, and I did so; but after a stay of about three months in the woods, I was taken by a party of the 48th regiment, and being tried for the forgery, was found guilty, and ordered to be transported to the Penal Settlement at Macquarrie Harbour, for the remainder of my original sentence. I was not there more than a month before I made my escape with seven others, named Dalton, Traverse, Badman, Matthews, Greenhill, Brown, and Cornelius. We all kept together for about ten days, during which we ate nothing but our kangaroo-skin jackets, and then we were nearly exhausted with hunger and fatigue. On the eleventh night, we began to consult what was best to be done for our preservation, and we made up our minds to a dreadful result. In the morning we missed three of our company, Dalton, Brown, and Cornelius, who, we concluded,had left us with an intention of returning, if possible. We then drew lots, which of us should die; and the chance fell on Badman. I went with one of the others to collect dry wood, to make a fire, during which time Traverse had succeeded in killing Badman, and when we returned, he had begun to cut him up. We dressed part of the flesh immediately, and continued to use it as long as it lasted. We then drew lots again, and it fell to the fate of Matthews. Traverse and Greenhill killed him with an axe; we cut the flesh from his bones, carried it on, and lived upon it as long as it lasted. By the time it was all eaten, Traverse, through fatigue, fell lame in his knee—so much so, that he could not proceed; Greenhill proposed that I should kill him, which I agreed to. We then made the best of our way, carrying the flesh of Traverse between us, in the hope of reaching the Eastern settlements while it lasted. We did not however, succeed, and I perceived Greenhill always carried the axe, and thought he watched an opportunity to kill me. I was always on my guard, and succeeded, when he fell asleep, in getting the axe, with which I immediately despatched him, made a meal, and carried all the remaining flesh with me to feed upon. To my great disappointment, I was afterwards many days without food, and subsisted solely upon grass and nettle-tops, which I boiled in a tin pot that I brought with me from the settlement. At length I fell in with some natives’ huts, from which apparently the inmates had just retired; and there I collected some entrail, and bits of kangaroo, which afforded me a meal. Two days afterwards, when nearly exhausted, I came in sight of a hut, which proved to be M‘Guire’s near the High Plains. I staid there a fortnight, and made up my mind to surrender myself to Captain Wood, a magistrate on the river Clyde; but on my way thither, I met Davis and Churton, who were then desperadoes, and living at the Shannon hut. They wished me to join them, to which I agreed. In a few weeks we were all taken, near Jericho, by a party of the 48th regiment, and brought into Hobart town jail; Churton and Davis were tried, found guilty of capital offences, and suffered death. It was my fate to be returned to the Penal Settlement. I again made my escape with Thomas Cox, who eagerly pressed my departure. I had irons on at the time; and when we had proceeded some distance, Cox knocked them off with an axe he had brought with him, and we made the best of our way through a thicket, which was very wet. At night we tried to make a fire, but could not. We travelled on several days without food, except the tops of trees and shrubs, until we came upon King’s River; I asked Cox, if he could swim; he replied he could not; and I remarked, that had I been aware of that, he should not have been my companion. The arrangements for crossing the river created words, and I killed Cox with the axe: I ate part of him that night, and cut the greatest part of his flesh up in order to take on with me. I swam the river with the intention of keeping the coast round to Port Dalrymple, but my heart failed me, and I resolved to return and give myself up to the commandant. I threw most of the flesh away; one piece I carried in my pocket, to show the commandant that Cox was dead. I confessed that I had killed him, and accompanied a party in a boat to bring up his remains, which was done.”
The prisoner underwent the extreme penalty of the law on the following morning, for the detestable crimes of which he had been guilty. We regret to say, however, that this is not a solitary instance of persons in the situation of Pierce resorting to similar means for the preservation of their lives.
THEstation in society which was occupied by this unfortunate gentleman, together with the long established respectability of the banking-house in which he was a most active partner, and the vast extent of the heartless forgeries which he committed, gave to his case an intensity of interest, which has rarely been exceeded.
The apprehension of Mr. Fauntleroy took place on the 10th of September 1824, when he was taken into custody on a warrant, issued in consequence of information being lodged at Marlborough-street police-office, that it had been discovered that in the month of September 1820, stock in the three per cents, to the extent of 10,000l., which stood in the name of himself, J. D. Hulme, and John Goodchild, as trustees for Francis William Bellis, had been sold out under a power of attorney, to which the names of Mr. Fauntleroy’s co-trustees, and of one of the subscribing witnesses, had been forged. The name of the firm with which Mr. Fauntleroy was connected was Marsh, Stracey, Fauntleroy, and Graham, and their banking-house was situated in Berners-street, where they enjoyed no inconsiderable portion of public patronage; and the apprehension of Mr. Fauntleroy, on one charge, no sooner became generally known, than, on inquiries being made, it was found that he had, under similar circumstances, sold out stock to the enormous amount of 170,000l., since the year 1814, the whole of which he had converted to his own use. The most extraordinary degree of interest was, in consequence, exhibited, and the public, unconscious of the degree of mischief which might be apprehended, became so alarmed that a run on the banking-house took place, which was checked by a suspension of payments, and eventually by a commission of bankruptcy.
Meanwhile Mr. Fauntleroy’s private character and conduct became the subject of general comment in the newspapers, and exaggerated accounts of his depravity of habit were published. He was described as a licentious libertine, and as a deep and determined gamester, and it was alleged that his extravagance knew no bounds. His private life was also inquired into, and it was found that he had been married to a young lady of respectable family named Young, by whom he had previously had a child; but that after his marriage, he had never lived with his wife; and it is not a little remarkable, that it was for a forgery, by means of which his wife’s family was defrauded, that he underwent the final dreadful sentence of the law.
His trial took place at the Old Bailey, on the 30th of October 1824, when he was indicted for forging a power of attorney for the transfer of stock in the three per cent. consols, to the amount of 5,000l., with intent to defraud Frances Young. As early as seven o’clock in the morning the doors leading to the court-house were thronged with persons anxious to obtain a glimpse of the prisoner; and on the arrival of the judges, before whom the unfortunate gentleman was tried, every corner of the court was filled with spectators. The Attorney-General was employed to conduct the case for the prosecution, and in his opening address to the jury, hedescribed the prisoner as the acting partner in the house of Messrs. Marsh and Co. Mr. Fauntleroy, the father of the prisoner, had become a partner in that firm, at the period of its establishment, and had continued so up to the time of his death, which took place in the year 1807. The prisoner was then admitted into the concern, and became a most active member in carrying on its extensive transactions. In the year 1815, Frances Young, of Chichester, a customer of the house, lodged in their hands a power of attorney, to receive the dividends on 5,450l.stock, invested in her name in the three per cent. consols. The dividends were regularly handed over by the banking-house; but it was found, that soon after the period mentioned, another power of attorney, authorising the prisoner to sell the stock, was presented to the bank, and the sale was effected by him. To this power the prisoner had forged the names of Frances Young, and of two witnesses to it. But the most extraordinary part of the case was, that among the prisoner’s private papers, contained in a tin box, there had been found one in which he acknowledged his guilt, and adduced a reason for his conduct. The Attorney-General then read the paper, which presented the following items, &c.:—De la Place, 11,150l.three per cent. consols; E. W. Young, 5,000l.consols; General Young, 6,000l.consols; Frances Young, 5,000l.consols; H. Kelly, 6,000l.consols; Lady Nelson, 11,995l.consols; Earl of Ossory, 7,000l.four per cents; W. Bowen, 9,400l.four per cents;—Parkins, 4,000l.consols. Sums were also placed to the names of Mrs. Pelham, Lady Aboyne, W. R. and H. Fauntleroy, and Elizabeth Fauntleroy; and the learned gentleman observed, that all the sums were added together, and the sum total, 120,000l., appeared at the foot of this list in the prisoner’s hand-writing. The statement was followed by this declaration:—
“In order to keep up the credit of our house, I have forged powers of attorney for the above sums and parties, and sold out to the amount here stated, and without the knowledge of my partners. I kept up the payment of the dividends, but made no entries of such payments in our books. The Bank began first to refuse to discount our acceptances, and to destroy the credit of our house: the Bank shall smart for it.”
The Attorney-General then called his witnesses, who confirmed in every point his statement of the case.
On being asked what he had to say in his defence, the prisoner read from a paper the following address:—
“My lord, and gentlemen of the jury,—Overwhelmed as I am by the situation in which I am placed, and being uninformed in what manner I should answer the charges which have been alleged against me, I will endeavour to explain, so well as the poignancy of my feelings will enable me, the embarrassments of the banking-house in which I have been for many years the active and only responsible partner, and which have alone led to the present investigation; and although I am aware I cannot expect to free myself from the obloquy brought upon me by my anxiety to preserve the credit and respectability of the firm, still I trust that an impartial narrative of the occurrences will obtain for me the commiseration of the well-disposed part of the community.
“Anticipating the Court will extend its indulgence to me, I will respectfully submit such observations as I think will tend to remove from influenced minds those impressions, which, with sorrow I say, must havebeen made upon them by the cruel and illiberal manner in which the public prints have untruly detailed a history of my life and conduct; hoping therefrom I may deserve your compassion, and although I may be unable to justify my proceedings, and secure my liberation, by a verdict of the jury, yet they may be considered, in the mercy of the court and a discerning public, as some extenuation of the crimes with which I stand arraigned.
“My father established the banking-house in 1792, in conjunction with Mr. Marsh, and other gentlemen. Some of the partners retired in 1794, about which time a loss of 20,000l.was sustained. Here commenced the difficulties of the house. In 1796, Mr. Stracey and another gentleman came into the house with little or no augmentation of capital. In 1800 I became a clerk in the house, and continued so six years; and although during that time I received no salary, the firm were so well satisfied with my attention and zeal for the interest and welfare of the establishment, that I was handsomely rewarded by them. In 1807 my father died; I then succeeded him; at this time I was only twenty-two years of age, and the whole weight of an extensive, but needy, banking establishment devolved upon me; and I found the concern deeply involved in advances to builders and others, which had rendered a system of discounting necessary, which we were obliged to continue in consequence of the scarcity of money at that time, and the necessity of making further advances to those persons, to secure the sums in which they already stood indebted. In this perplexed state the house continued until 1810, when its embarrassments were greatly increased, owing to the bankruptcies of Brickwood and others, which brought upon it a sudden demand for no less a sum than 170,000l.the greater part being for the amount of bills, which our house had either accepted or discounted for those parties said to have become bankrupts. About 1814, 1815, and 1816, from the speculations with builders, brickmakers, &c. in which the house was engaged, it was called upon to provide funds to the extent of near 100,000l.to avert the losses which would otherwise have visited it from those speculations. In 1819 the most responsible of our partners died, and we were called upon to pay over the amount of his capital, although the substantial resources of the house were wholly inadequate to meet so large a payment. During these numerous and trying difficulties, the house was nearly without resources, and the whole burden of management falling upon me, I was driven to a state of distraction, in which I could meet with no relief from my partners, and, almost heartbroken, I sought resources where I could, and so long as they were provided, and the credit of the house supported, no inquiries were made, either as to the manner in which they were procured, or as to the sources from which they were derived. In the midst of these calamities, which were not unknown to Mr. Stracey, he quitted England, and continued in France, on his own private business, for two years, leaving me to struggle as well as I could with difficulties almost insurmountable. Having thus exposed all the necessities of the house, I declare that all the moneys temporarily raised by me were applied, not in one instance for my own separate purposes or expenses, but in every case they were immediately placed to the credit of the house in Berners-street, and applied to the payment of the pressing demands upon it. This fact does not rest on my assertion, as the transactions referred to are entered in the books now in the possession ofthe assignees, and to which I have had no access since my apprehension. These books, I understand, are now in court, and will confirm the truth of my statement; and to whatever account all the sums may be entered, whether to that of stock, or of Exchequer bills, or to my own private account, the whole went to the general funds of the banking-house. I alone have been doomed to suffer the stigma of all the transactions; but tortured as I have been, it now becomes an imperative duty to explain to you, gentlemen, and through you to the world at large, that the vile accusations heaped upon me, known to be utterly false by all those who are best acquainted with my private life and habits, have been so heaped upon me for the purpose of loading me with the whole obloquy of those transactions, from which, and from which alone, my partners were preserved from bankruptcy. I have been accused of crimes I never even contemplated, and of acts of profligacy I never committed; and I appear at this bar with every prejudice against me, and almost prejudged. To suit the purposes of the persons to whom I allude, I have been represented as a man of prodigal extravagance: prodigal indeed I must have been, had I expended those large sums which will hereafter be proved to have gone exclusively to support the credit of a tottering firm, the miseries of which were greatly accelerated by the drafts of two of its members to the amount of near 100,000l.I maintained but two establishments, one at Brighton, where my mother and sister resided in the season—the expenses of which to me, exclusive of my wine, were within 400l.per annum, and one at Lambeth, where my two children lived, from its very nature private and inexpensive, to which I resorted for retirement, after many a day passed in devising means to avert the embarrassments of the banking-house. The dwelling-house in Berners-street belonged solely to my mother, with the exception of a library and single bed-room. This was the extent of my expenditure, so far as domestic expenditure is concerned; I am next accused of being an habitual gambler, an accusation which, if true, might easily account for the diffusion of the property. I am, indeed, a member of two clubs, the Albion and the Stratford, but never in my life did I play in either, at cards or dice, or any game of chance; this is well known to the gentlemen of these clubs—and my private friends, with whom I more intimately associated, can equally assert my freedom from all habit or disposition to play. It has been as cruelly asserted, that I fraudulently invested money in the funds to answer the payment of annuities, amounting to 2,200l.settled upon females. I never did make any such investment; neither at home or abroad, in any funds whatever, have I any investment; nor is there one shilling secretly deposited by me in the hands of any human being. Equally ungenerous, and equally untrue it is, to charge me with having lent to loose and disorderly persons large sums which never have, and never will be repaid. I lent no sums but to a very trifling amount, and those were advanced to valued friends. I can, therefore, at this solemn moment declare, most fervently, that I never had any advantage beyond that in which all my partners participated in any of the transactions which are now questioned. They indeed have considered themselves as partners only in the profits, and I am to be burdened with the whole of the opprobrium, that others may consider them as the victims of my extravagance I make this statement not with a view to criminate others, or to exculpate myself; but borne down as I am by calamity, I will not consent to beheld out to the world as a cold-blooded and abandoned profligate, ruining all around me for the selfish gratification of vice and sensuality, and involving even my confiding partners in the general destruction. Gentlemen, I have frailties and errors enough to account for. I have sufferings enough, past, present, and in prospect; and if my life were all that was required of me, I might endure in silence; though I will not endure the odium on my memory, of having sinned to pamper delinquencies to which I never was addicted. Thus much has been extorted from me by the fabrications which have been cruelly spread amongst the public,—that very public from whom the arbiters of my fate were to be selected. Perhaps, however, I ought to thank the enemy who besieged the prisoner with his slanders, that he did so whilst my life was spared to refute them, and that he waited not until the grave, to which he would hurry me, had closed at once on my answer and my forgiveness. There is one subject more connected with these charges to which I am compelled to advert, and I do so with great reluctance. It has added to the other charges made against me, lest the world should think there was any vice in which I was not an adept. I have been accused of acting treacherously towards the female who now bears my name, having refused to make reparation until threatened by her brother, and of having deserted her at a moment when she had the greatest claim on my protection. Delicacy forbids me entering into an explanation on this subject further than to declare, that the conduct I adopted on that occasion was uninfluenced by the interference of any individual, and arose, as I then considered, and do still consider, from a laudable and honourable feeling on my part; and the lady’s brother, so far from coming forward at the time alluded to, was on service in the West Indies. Could all the circumstances be exposed, I feel convinced that every liberal-minded man would applaud my determination; and I feel satisfaction in saying, that the lady in question has always been, and still is actuated by the best feelings towards me. I have now to apologise to the court for having entered so much at length into the statement of my unfortunate case, and, in conclusion, I have to express my perfect confidence that it will receive every favourable consideration at your hands; and I fully rely that you, gentlemen of the jury, will give an impartial and merciful decision.”
The unfortunate gentleman having completed the reading of this document, sat down, and wept with much agitation. Seventeen gentlemen of the highest respectability were then called, and they all attested their high opinion of his honour, integrity, and goodness of disposition, and that he was the person whom, of all others, they would have supposed incapable of a dishonourable action. During their examination the prisoner buried his face in his handkerchief, apparently anxious to conceal his features from their view.
In summing up, the judge told the jury, that as the evidence did not show the forgery to have been committed within their jurisdiction, they, being a London jury, would have to decide on the count for uttering; and after twenty minutes’ consideration they returned a verdict—Guilty of uttering—Death.
Every exertion was used by Mr. Fauntleroy’s counsel, his case being twice argued before the judges, upon points of law; but both decisions were against him, and on the 30th of November, 1824, his execution tookplace. The number of persons assembled on the fatal day was estimated at nearly one hundred thousand! Every window and roof which could command a view of the dreadful ceremony was occupied, and places from which it was impossible to catch a glimpse of the scaffold were blocked up by those who were prevented by the dense crowd before them from advancing further.
At a quarter before eight o’clock, the sheriffs arrived at Newgate, and proceeded immediately to the prisoner’s room. The prisoner gently bowed to them on perceiving that they were present, but made no observation. Besides the Ordinary of Newgate, the Rev. Mr. Cotton, there were the Rev. Mr. Springett and Mr. Baker with the prisoner, the former of whom had remained all night.
Mr. Fauntleroy was dressed in a black coat, waistcoat, and trousers, with silk stockings and shoes. The demeanour of the unhappy man was perfectly composed. His eyes continued closed, and no emotion was visible in his countenance. His appearance had undergone little or no change since the trial. The necessary arrangements having been completed, the sheriffs moved forward, and Mr. Springett and Mr. Baker each took hold of one of the prisoner’s arms; and thus accompanied, he followed the sheriffs and the ordinary. He never turned his head to the right nor the left till he reached the foot of the steps leading to the scaffold; and the moment he appeared the vast crowd took off their hats. In less than two minutes after the criminal ascended the platform, everything was prepared for his execution. Mr. Cotton now placed himself before the prisoner, who stood with his face towards Ludgate Hill, and commenced reading the passage—“Yet, O Lord God, most Holy! O Lord, most mighty! O holy and most merciful Saviour! deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death. Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts;” towards the conclusion of which the trap-door fell, and the unhappy man died without a struggle.
An almost universal sympathy was excited in his favour, in consequence of the melancholy termination of his career; but many, even to the present day, have but too powerful reasons to mourn the crimes of which he was guilty, depriving them as they did, in many instances, of every shilling of what otherwise would have been comfortable competencies, sufficient to maintain them in respectability through life.
THEscene of the melancholy event by which one youth, a member of a noble family, was hurried into an untimely grave, and two others were brought to the bar of a public court of justice upon a charge of manslaughter, was at Eton College, and it occurred on Monday the 28th February, 1825.
On the 9th of March, 1825, George Alexander Wood, son of Colonel Wood, and nephew of the Marquis of Londonderry, and Alexander Wellesley Leith, were placed at the bar at the Aylesbury Assizes, charged with killing and slaying the Hon. F. Ashley Cooper, son of the Earl of Shaftesbury.The circumstances will be best explained as they appeared in evidence before the coroner.
On Sunday, the 27th of February, about two o’clock, two young gentlemen, scholars at Eton, the Hon. F. A. Cooper and Mr. Wood, were in the play-ground, when same words arose between them. From words they proceeded to blows; and they had fought for several minutes, when the captain came up and separated them. It was subsequently determined that they should meet on the following afternoon, and terminate their differences by a pugilistic contest. Many of the scholars were present to witness the battle; the combatants stripped at four o’clock on Monday afternoon, and commenced fighting. Mr. Cooper was under fifteen years, and his opponent, who was half a head taller, was near seventeen. Mr. Wood had the advantage in point of strength; but the quickness and precision of Mr. Cooper were remarkable for one so young, and he declared that he would never give in. In the eighth, ninth, and tenth rounds, he became weak and exhausted, and it was then evident he was not a match for Mr. Wood. Some of the “backers” had brought a quantity of brandy in bottles into the field; and the second of Mr. Cooper having, in the eleventh round, poured a portion of it down Mr. C.’s throat, he recovered his wind and strength. The young men continued fighting from four till nearly six o’clock; and when they were in a state of exhaustion, they were plied between the rounds with brandy. They fought about sixty rounds; and at the end of the last round, Mr. Cooper fell very heavily upon his head, and never spoke afterwards. He was carried off the ground to his lodgings, at the house of the Reverend Mr. Knapp, by his brothers, who were present at the fight. He was put to bed; but no medical assistance was sent for till four hours had elapsed: shortly afterwards he expired.
At two o’clock on Tuesday, a jury assembled to hold an inquest on the body. The jury and coroner proceeded to the house of the Reverend Mr. Knapp, and viewed the body. The temples, eyes, and upper part of the cheek-bones were very black, and there were other external marks of violence about the ribs, breast, &c. The following evidence as to the circumstances attending the battle was then taken:—
Christopher Teasdale.—“I am a student at Eton college; I knew the deceased—he was the son of Lord Shaftesbury; and I know his antagonist Mr. Wood, the son of Colonel Wood. I saw them set-to about the hour of four o’clock on Monday afternoon. I saw repeated blows, during the fight, given to Cooper, on different parts of the head: I remember, in one period of the fight, a severe blow being given on his temple; the deceased instantly fell, and lay on the ground about half a minute. There were loud shouts from Wood’s party, in consequence of his being the best. It was a fair fight; I saw no unfair advantage taken. A young gentleman named Leith seconded the deceased; the fight lasted about an hour; the deceased’s spirits were kept up in a most extraordinary manner by Leith giving him brandy in the eleventh and subsequent rounds. I remember that before the last round, Wood said he wanted to go to his tutor, Mr. Ottery, to attend his private business (studies), and he would make it up afterwards. Mr. Leith, the second, said, that as Wood wanted to go, he would appeal to the deceased’s party, and hear what they had to say. The deceased’s party exclaimed, ‘We will have another round; we are in no hurry.’ The parties fought another round, and the deceased at the conclusion fell froma severe blow; Wood fell heavily on him. After the round, Wood said, ‘he must go, and he would make it up.’ Leith advised it to be made up on the spot, and directly the proposition was made the deceased fell back senseless. Wood walked up to the deceased and lifted his head, but I did not hear him say anything.”
Other witnesses proved that the deceased was taken home to Mr. Knapp’s, where he remained for some time under the care of his brother, and that after the lapse of some hours surgical aid was procured. It was then too late, however, and he died. On his body been opened, it was he found that he had died from the rupture of the blood-vessels on the brain.
Upon the arraignment of the defendants they pleaded Not Guilty, and the witnesses for the prosecution did not answer. Mr. Justice Gasalee having ordered their recognizances to be estreated, a verdict of Not Guilty was returned, and the defendants left the bar attended by Lord Nugent, Colonel Brown, Sir John Dashwood King, and other persons of distinction.
THEreader will recognise in this criminal the participator with Hunt and Thurtell in the murder of Mr. Weare, and the witness who was examined on the trial of those offenders, who impeached his accomplices.
He was apprehended on the night of Friday the 18th of February, 1825, and conveyed to Bow-street office, on a charge of stealing a horse, the property of a man named Meredith, a miller, living near Ruarden in Gloucestershire. It appeared that the guilty wretch, after his discharge from Hertford jail, where he had been confined as an approver in order that his evidence might be secured at the trial of his companions in crime, wandered through the country without an object or a name, and followed by public execration. Reduced to the most abject state of misery, he at length found an asylum in the house of his aged mother at Ruarden. Meredith, the miller, was distantly related to him by marriage; and while paying him a visit, the unprincipled villain having seen and admired a mare which was in his possession, marked it for his own. Seizing a favourable opportunity, he carried the animal off with him to London, and there he disposed of her for 20l., having assumed a fictitious name. He was, however, traced by the miller, and at length on the 18th February was taken into custody.
For this offence he was put on his trial at the Old Bailey on the 7th of the following month of April, and the evidence for the prosecution, which was clear and conclusive, having been gone into, the prisoner read the following defence from a written paper:—
“My lord and gentlemen of the jury,—If I have this day pleaded not guilty to the indictment preferred against me, it is not that I wish by subtleties to evade, or screen myself from the verdict and sentence which my country may award against me, but that I may have an opportunity to say something in this court, to evince to the public, that whatever may have been the unhappy circumstances of the latter days of my life, I was not driven into my present crime from depravity of disposition, but froma species of fatal necessity, which had placed me far beyond the reach of all human assistance and charity. The appeal I now make is not with a view to lessen my past error that I unfortunately fell into, as there is a God on whom I alone rely for mercy; but I do beg of the jury to banish all former unfortunate circumstances from their minds. It cannot have escaped your notice, that immediately after and ever since my discharge from Hertford, the public animosity has been kept alive against me by the public press, which has reached every part of England. Wherever I went, even to the remotest village throughout the kingdom, I was spurned as an outcast of society; and the chief instrument which prevented my obtaining employment, or indeed effecting a reformation, was the public press, which has not slackened to follow me, and portray me to the world. As the victim of prejudice, I could scarcely move from one place to another without seeing myself noticed in the daily papers. Those of my former friends, who might otherwise have wished to continue their services towards me, shrunk back from an apprehension of public reprobation for being connected with one such as myself. Every door was shut against me, every hope of future support blasted. My country had spared my life, but individuals rendered that life of no value or utility to me. I was hunted down like a wild beast of the forest. With this desolation around me, and with these dreary prospects before me, I felt my fortitude forsaking me, and I knew not what course to pursue. Heaven and myself only know what I suffered. I was a prey to the most heart-rending care—I was a prey to a deep and intense feeling, the cause of which, I trust, it will not be necessary to refer to. I appeal to you, my lord and gentlemen, whether my situation was not most deplorable. Perhaps you will weigh in your own humane breasts the miseries which surrounded me, and what you would have done under similar circumstances. If you, gentlemen of the jury, should observe any features in my case deserving commiseration, then I trust you will express a sense of it to his lordship, and recommend me to mercy; and should you, my lord, concur in the same sentiments, then I humbly pray that your lordship will recommend me to the clemency of my gracious sovereign, as no former conviction appears on the record against me. On my way from the police-office to Newgate, my ears were stunned with the horrid yells of the populace, and my life threatened. Indeed, my lord and gentlemen of the jury, since the calamitous event that took place at Hertford, I have been a lost man, and at times on the eve of self-destruction. But the Almighty God has sustained me under my heaviest afflictions, and should his wisdom direct that my life is to be spared, the remainder of my days will be spent in atonement for past errors that I have fallen into. I hope I have not intruded too long upon your lordship’s time. I felt it my duty to state to your lordship and the gentlemen of the jury, how miserable my life has been and the severe trials I have undergone since my discharge from Hertford: and likewise my innocent wife has suffered all privations, without comfort and without a friend to assist her, and even on the point of starvation, she having lately been brought to bed with an increase to the family, and no one to assist her in that trying moment or to render her any way comfortable; but, on the contrary, nothing but distress and trouble, and even at the present time destitute of friends and home. Such, gentlemen of the jury, has been and is now, the situation of my wife. Indeed, my lord and gentlemenof the jury, I have endeavoured to leave the country, and several times offered to work my passage over. But all my endeavours to accomplish my wishes have been unsuccessful. For the indulgence you have this day shown to me, by attending to the address I have now made, I feel greatly obliged; therefore, I cannot help reminding you, my lord and gentlemen of the jury, of the happiness I once possessed, and was ever ready to alleviate the distresses of my fellow-creatures, and to contribute to the support of charitable institutions. I hope I am more the object of commiseration than that of severe censure. I am aware, my lord and gentlemen of the jury, the whole country is against me; but that, I trust, will not bias your minds; as a trial by jurymen of my country does credit to the wise laws of the realm, and does not less reflect the same sensible feelings on my own mind. I therefore trust, if there should be any marks favourable in my case, you will give me the benefit.”
He read the address with great composure, but in a low tone of voice. The judge having charged the jury, a verdict of Guilty was instantly returned.
On the 13th of the same month the prisoner was brought up to receive sentence, when he protested his innocence (so far as guilty intention went), stated that he was driven to the commission of the offence for which he was about to receive judgment by the greatest distress, and alluded in a feeling manner to the misery in which his wife and children were placed. The recorder, after observing that these topics should be reserved for another place, proceeded to pass the fatal sentence.
The convict continued in prison till the 14th of June, before the recorder’s report was made to the king; and during this long period he had indulged the most sanguine hopes that his life would be spared. On being informed that he was ordered for execution on the following Monday, he felt satisfied, he said, that the public voice was in his favour, and that every one was surprised at the decision of the privy council. When told by a gentleman, who visited him, that he sustained his fate with less fortitude than any of his companions in affliction, (eight being left for execution out of thirty-seven reported,) he replied that that was not to be wondered at, for they were conscious of their guilt, and knew they could have supported themselves by other means than theft; but that he was absolutely impelled by dire necessity to commit the act for which he was about to suffer death—he must have done it or starved. He solemnly declared that he was completely ignorant of any circumstances connected with the murder of Weare, until after it had been effected, and that the confession of Hunt was in many of its points utterly false, particularly those which related to his (Probert’s) wife. It was thought that he could have made some disclosure relative to some persons who were said to have been missing a short time before Weare’s murder; but in justice to the memory of the wretched man, it must be stated that there are no grounds for believing him to have been concerned in any transaction of a murderous nature, but that in which his own evidence at Hertford proves him to have been implicated.
When he ascended the platform on the fatal morning, the 20th of June, 1825, his limbs were completely palsied, and his agitation dreadful. After the noose was tied, he moved as far as he was able, and turning himself, raised his hands in quick and tremulous motion, and so continued tillthe ordinary had taken his final leave, and the falling of the platform closed the scene.
His fellow-sufferers were two men, named Sargeant and Harper, for the same offence of horse-stealing, and another, named Smith, for burglary. The four others who were at the same time ordered for execution met their fate on the Monday following.
On this occasion the concourse of spectators was immense, the windows opposite being crowded as early as three o’clock in the morning, and chiefly with females.
THEfollowing are the circumstances attending a murder committed at Whaddon Chase, Buckinghamshire, in the month of January 1825, which at the time of its perpetration attracted a considerable portion of the public attention.
The information which was first published of this remarkable case, was that on the evening of Wednesday, the 5th of January, two young men took outside places by the Express coach, from London for Brick-hill, which is situated about nine miles from Stoney Stratford; and that having arrived at that place, they slept at the White Lion Inn, and on the following morning walked on towards Fenny Stratford, one of them carrying a gun in a green baize bag, while the other had a box on his shoulder. On their being overtaken by the Eclipse coach, they mounted it, and rode as far as Whaddon Chase, where they both suddenly jumped down, and one of them, carrying the gun, ran into the Chase, which is a wild, unfrequented spot, intersected by many roads, whither the other followed him. In a short time after, a labouring man named Meechan, who was employed in mending a hedge, heard a sound which appeared to him like a cry of murder. He listened, and distinctly heard the cry repeated in the direction of a place called Snell’s Copse; and on his looking towards that spot, he saw two men whom he had before observed walking in the neighbourhood, one of them with an upraised gun, with which he suddenly felled his companion to the ground. The stock of the gun appeared to be broken by the blow, and then he saw the same person repeatedly strike the fallen man with the barrel. He was so alarmed as to be unable to render any assistance to repel the murderous attack; and he presently saw the man who, as he supposed, had killed his companion, change his coat, which was a blue body-coat, for a fustian shooting-jacket, and walk away. He felt totally unable to follow him; but as soon as his alarm had in some degree subsided, he ran to his master’s house, which was situated about two hundred yards off, and gave information of what he had seen. Mr. Clarke, his employer, and his three sons, instantly accompanied him in pursuit of the murderer; and after an unavailing search of nearly two hours’ duration, they at length saw him emerge from a thick copse, when they instantly seized and secured him. They conveyed him to the Haunch of Venison public-house at Whaddon, where he underwent an examination before Mr. Lowndes, Mr. Smith, and Major Mansel, magistrates of the county, to whom he stated that his name was Charles Lynn, and thatthat of his late companion was Abraham Hogg. A coroner’s inquest was held on the body of the deceased on the following day; and then it appeared that the prisoner was the son of a respectable woman residing at No. 4, Morehall-place, Vauxhall, where she kept a confectioner’s shop, and that he, as well as the deceased, had been employed in the vinegar manufactory of Sir Robert Burnett, at Vauxhall, as coopers. Since his apprehension he had conducted himself in a most violent and extraordinary manner. He had repeatedly attempted to destroy himself by dashing his head against the walls and furniture of the room in which he was confined; and on his being informed that his late companion was dead, he answered, “I am glad of it, for he should not have had any of the money.” He afterwards attempted to kill himself by drinking boiling water from a tea-kettle, and was only prevented from attaining his horrid purpose by the vigilance of the constables in whose charge he had been placed. He then begged to be permitted to write a letter to his mother; but having written “Dear mother, I have committed murder,” he appeared dreadfully agitated, threw down the pen, and exclaiming, “O that I could kill myself!” attempted to strangle himself with his neckcloth. He was now handcuffed, in order to prevent his making any fresh attempt; but in spite of the utmost exertions of the officers, he obtained possession of the snuffers, with which he tried to stab himself in the throat; and having been disappointed in this project, he swallowed two half-crowns, hoping to choke himself. The evidence which was taken before the coroner went to prove the circumstances which we have stated; and witnesses having also deposed as to the finding of the body, and to the injuries which appeared to have been inflicted, and which were obviously the cause of death, a verdict of “Wilful murder against Charles Lynn” was returned.
The prisoner was then removed to Aylesbury jail, but not until he had made repeated new attempts to destroy his own life. He viewed the body of his murdered victim without the smallest degree of agitation or excitement; and on his arrival in the prison, he dictated a letter to King, the jailer, for his mother. He was subsequently visited by Mr. Ashfield, the chaplain of the jail, by whom he was brought to a proper sense of his situation. His mother, sister, and a clerk in Sir R. Burnett’s establishment, subsequently reached Aylesbury jail from London, and at the entreaty of the first named individual, the wretched prisoner made the following singular statement as to his inducement to commit the horrid crime of which he had been guilty. He said, “I and Abraham went to the Saracen’s Head, Snowhill, and got upon the Liverpool coach: I saw two men in deep conversation with him, and two gentlemen were on the coach; the two men who spoke with Abraham I knew to be resurrection-men; and I was convinced that Abraham was agreeing to sell my body to them for the surgeons, two of whom were on the coach. Just before the coach started, one of the resurrection-men, who was dressed like a sailor, got a bottle of gin, and on the road they wanted me to drink two glasses for their one. The men afterwards threw the bottle away, but purchased another on the road. I and Abraham got down at the White Lion, Brick-hill, and the landlord and others were talking about robberies and murders: I did not like the conversation, and I went and slept at the public-house opposite. On the following morning I went to the White Lion, and the landlord said to me,—‘It’s lucky for you that you were not up sooner, or your bodywould have been half way to London by this time.’ I got on another coach with Abraham, and passing by a common, I jumped down and ran away; Abraham followed with my gun. When I got near a wood I heard the sound of horns and trumpets, and I thought the resurrection-men were after me, and that Abraham intended to kill me, and I am sure if I had not killed him he would have killed me.” This remarkable statement was reduced to writing, and was produced at the trial of the unfortunate prisoner, which took place at Aylesbury, on Tuesday, the 8th of March, in the same year.
The evidence, which was then adduced, was precisely similar in its details to that which we have stated in substance; and the prisoner in his defence addressed the jury in an unconnected strain, repeating his belief that an intention existed to murder him. Witnesses were then called, who swore that they believed that the prisoner was insane, and the jury returned a verdict, finding the prisoner guilty of killing the deceased, but declared that he was of unsound intellect at the time.
The prisoner was thereupon ordered to be detained during His Majesty’s pleasure, and was subsequently confined in an asylum for lunatics.
It appears that the prisoner had been employed by Sir Robert Burnett from a very early age, and that he was always considered there to bear an excellent character. Hogg was also engaged in the same establishment, and was a constant companion of the young man, by whom he was eventually killed. A considerable degree of suspicion was excited against them on the discovery of the murder, in consequence of the sudden disappearance of one Mangan, alias “Long Dan,” who was their fellow workman, and who having been seen last with Lynn, on Sunday the 2nd of January, at Manor-place, Walworth, had become suddenly missing. Every inquiry was made for him, and at length Lynn was questioned upon the subject, but he most solemnly declared his ignorance of the cause of his quitting his friends, as well as of his hiding-place; but the observation which he had made, that “Hogg should not have any of the money,” for a considerable time favoured the suspicions which were entertained. At length, however, Mangan came forward, and stated that he had enlisted in the East India Company’s service, for a reason which he refused to disclose; and Lynn’s statement explained the meaning of the expression which he had used. The reason for Hogg and Lynn quitting their work, and going out of town by the Liverpool coach, however, yet remains concealed.