THEmurders of the Marrs and the Williamsons were not yet forgotten, when others of a nature equally atrocious and mysterious were committed upon the persons of Mr. Bird, a retired tallow-chandler, who lived at Greenwich, and who was eighty-three years of age, and his housekeeper Mary Simmons, aged forty-four, on the 8th February 1818.
Mr. Bird, it appears, had amassed a considerable fortune by his exertions in trade, and had retired to live on the competency which he had secured for himself at a house at Greenwich, where, his wife having died about two years before, a poor woman named Simmons lived with him in thecapacity of housekeeper. The fact of the murder was discovered under circumstances of a curious nature. Mr. Bird and his housekeeper, it appears, had been in the habit of attending Greenwich church regularly, always making it a point to be in their pew before the commencement of the service. On Sunday morning the 9th February, it was remarked that they were not in the church as usual; and at the conclusion of the service, the alarm which had been by this time excited was increased by the discovery of the fact that the house in which they lived had not yet been opened. The beadle of the parish, in consequence, conceived that he was bound to make some inquiries; and having knocked at the door without receiving any answer, he forced an entrance at the back of the premises. On his entering the house, a most shocking spectacle presented itself to his eyes. The body of the housekeeper was found lying in the passage, presenting a most fearful appearance, the skull being frightfully fractured, apparently with a blunt instrument. In a parlour adjoining the passage was found the body of the unfortunate Mr. Bird, lying on the ground, with his arms stretched out, and his skull also fractured in the same manner as that of his housekeeper, and with the same weapon. On the other rooms of the house being examined, it became obvious that plunder was the object of the murderer; and it was found that the pockets of the deceased had been rifled of the keys of the various drawers and boxes, which were found above-stairs marked with blood. Some silver spoons, &c. had been stolen, for it was known that such articles were in the possession of the deceased, but it was unknown what other property had been carried off; although the only money found in the house was 3l., which were in a secret drawer, and which had apparently escaped the attention of the murderer. On more minute inquiry being made into the probabilities of the case, it was ascertained that Mr. Bird and his housekeeper were in the habit of retiring to rest at about ten o’clock on every night; but from both of them being dressed, it was obvious that the murders had been effected before that time. Mr. Bird, it appeared, had been reading, as a book was found open on the table, and a pair of spectacles was clenched in his hand as he lay. The murderer, it was supposed, must have obtained admission by the backdoor, as it was known that the front-door was always kept chained, and was found to be still in the same condition.
The horrid discovery created a very great degree of alarm; and Mr. Bicknell, a respectable solicitor of the place, having despatched messengers to Bow-street to communicate the dreadful intelligence, some officers were immediately sent down to the spot to make the necessary inquiries. An inquest was held upon the bodies in the course of the week, but no circumstances were elicited which could lead to the discovery of the perpetrators of the deed; and on the following Sunday the remains of the unfortunate deceased were interred in Greenwich churchyard, in the presence of an immense concourse of spectators.
During the three succeeding weeks several persons were apprehended on suspicion, but nothing material could be alleged against them; but at length a complete discovery took place, and the murderer was pointed out by his own sister. This woman was married to a man named Godwin, and resided with her husband at Peckham. About a week after the murders had been committed, her brother, Charles Hussey, came to her house, and said he was going to see his brother, who resided at Basingstoke. Hewent to a box of his under a bed and took something out; she supposed it was money, for he had sixty-seven pounds left him four days after the murders were committed, by a sister, who cut her throat, in Queen-street, Cheapside, where she had lived. Hussey told his sister he should return in a week, but he did not do so for nearly a fortnight. She then said to him, “Oh, Charles! I have been so uneasy during your absence! I have had such frightful dreams, and could not think what detained you.” He replied, “Why, what could cause you to dream?” and appeared greatly agitated. After he had gone away, Mrs. Godwin said to her husband, “I think there is something in Charles’s box there should not be;” his behaviour caused her to say so; and with one of her own keys she opened the box, when the first things that met her eye were a pair of watches, which she and her husband suspected to have belonged to the late Mr. Bird. Their suspicion was confirmed by Hussey not returning according to promise, and, with a detestation of so black a crime which did them infinite honour, they repaired to Greenwich and gave information of the circumstance.
Another box of Hussey’s was brought, soon after the murders, to a Mrs. Goddard, who resided at Deptford; and as this woman’s suspicions were excited by some inquiries made after Hussey, she opened the box, and found in it property she supposed to have belonged to the late Mr. Bird. Officers were sent for, and on searching the trunk, they found a silver wine-strainer, a soup-spoon, two shirts, three pair of sheets; a white jean jacket, stained with blood in several places, especially about the right-hand pocket; a pair of gaiters made of drab cloth, with blood upon the buttons of them; a piece of new shirting, which was very bloody, and a glazed hat. In the same trunk were found several articles of silver plate, which proved to have been Mr. Bird’s property. It was remarkable that this trunk was only corded, not locked, and that Hussey never called to inquire after it from the time it had been deposited with Mrs. Goddard.
From Deptford the officers proceeded to Mrs. Godwin’s house, at Peckham, where, in addition to the watches, they found in the box five one-pound Bank of England notes, and two two-pound notes, all marked with Mr. Bird’s initials. In the same box they found Hussey’s discharge from the East India Company’s Service, which contained a description of his person.
In consequence of these discoveries, no doubt remained but that Hussey had been the principal, if not the only, perpetrator of the foul murders. Diligent inquiry was accordingly made after him; but it was found that he had absconded. More than twenty of the most active metropolitan officers were despatched in every direction to look for him, and large rewards were offered for his apprehension; but it was not until after a considerable time had elapsed that he was taken into custody at Deddington, in Oxfordshire, by a publican named Poulton, who had read the advertisement, and on seeing him recognised him as resembling the person described as the murderer. It appears that Poulton had read the advertisement, and his attention was arrested by his seeing the prisoner walk past his house one evening at about nine o’clock, and suspecting that he was the murderer, he called a neighbour, and they followed him. Having walked after him for some distance, they became assured of the truth of their suspicions, and Poulton went up to him, and said he must go with him, as he had strong suspicion he was the man advertised. The prisonerafter some hesitation, confessed his name was Charles Hussey; and on his being searched, a watch and a pocket-book, with a ring in it, part of the property stolen from the late Mr. Bird’s house, were found. The prisoner denied any knowledge of the murders or robbery, but admitted that the articles found belonged to him.
The magistrate told the prisoner it would be necessary for him to account for being possessed of the things which had been stolen; and the prisoner said, that between four and five o’clock on the Sunday afternoon after the murders, he saw a man get over a wall into Mr. Smith’s grounds, at Greenwich, and run. He followed him, and saw him put down a bundle against a large tree, and leave it there, and then run again. Curiosity induced him to go to the spot, and on his opening the bundle he saw two watches, and a silver soup-ladle. He, however, left the bundle and walked away, but on the following Saturday, happening to go past the same spot, he found the bundle in the same position, and then on examining its contents, he found them to consist of three watches, a silver soup-ladle, a wine-strainer, four sheets, six or eight shirts, six rings, some old coins, two two-pound bank-notes, and three one-pound notes. He took them away with him, and he subsequently absconded because he was ashamed of coming forward, having such things in his possession. He declined saying any thing in reference to the specific charges made against him, and he was committed to Maidstone jail to await his trial.
On the 31st of July 1818, Hussey was indicted at the Maidstone assizes for the wilful murder of Mr. Bird and his housekeeper. The dreadful deed was fully brought home by evidence the most satisfactory and conclusive. It was proved that the hammer with which the murders were committed had been taken from a cooper several days before, and that it was afterwards found in a pond, into which the assassin had thrown it. With this cooper Hussey had been intimate, and was almost daily at the house, where he kept his trunk until subsequent to the murders, when he had it removed to his cousin’s, Mrs. Goddard, at Deptford. It was also proved that Hussey belonged to a “Society of Odd Fellows,” and that he did not join them on the night of the murders until near ten o’clock. The proprietor of the house where the Odd Fellows met, being asked whether Hussey appeared any way agitated when he saw him, replied, “He might, but I did not observe him, for he is the last man in the world, from his general character and habits, whom I should suspect of either dishonesty or murder.”
It was further proved that the prisoner had been originally a sailor in the East India Company’s service, from which he was discharged, and that he then became a servant, and lived in that capacity with a Mr. Stevens at Greenwich, not far from the house of Mr. Bird. Previous, however, to the murders, he had been discharged, and he was, at that time, out of place. The remainder of the evidence only confirmed the facts we have already narrated, and the case for the prosecution having closed, Hussey was called on for his defence.
He declared his innocence, and gave a confused account of the manner in which he was employed on the night of the murder; but his criminality was too plain to be doubted, and he was found guilty.
He suffered August 3, 1818, on Pennenden Heath, near Maidstone, the usual place of execution for the county of Kent. He made no confessionexcept that when asked by the Rev. Mr. Argles if he knew who did the deed, he replied with eagerness, “I do, I do.”
In person, the unfortunate prisoner was tall, his hands and feet remarkably large, and his countenance pallid, mild, and humane. His appearance was apparently that of a person above his rank in life.
THISwas a case of revolting indelicacy and deep-laid villany. We shall give it in the words of the counsel retained to prosecute the accused at the Carrickfergus assizes, March the 21st, 1818.
“The prisoner, Samuel Dick (said he) stands indicted for the forcible abduction and subsequent defilement of Elizabeth Crockatt, the prosecutrix. She is a young woman of respectable family in Derry; and upon the death of her father she became possessed of about two thousand six hundred pounds: this property, her youth, being scarcely seventeen, and her personal attractions, have been the causes of two different atrocious outrages, for the purpose of obtaining possession of them. In August last, upon the Sabbath day, while returning from the meeting, she was forcibly carried off, and taken to Ballymena, where she was rescued by her brother and her uncle. On their return home, her mother, alarmed for her safety, sent her for some time to reside within a few miles of Stewartstown, with a Mr. Matthew Fairservice. On the night of the 3rd of November, Mr. Fairservice’s family were invited to spend the evening at Mr. Henry’s, where the prosecutrix met Miss Jane Dick, sister to the prisoner, and who is related to the prosecutrix. The prosecutrix, with Mr. Robert Fairservice, his sister, and Miss Dick, then went from Mr. Henry’s upon the car to a ball at a Mr. Park’s, where she danced the greater part of the night. While at Mr. Park’s, Miss Dick invited prosecutrix to Stewartstown, which she declined. When they had got on the car, Robert Fairservice drove rapidly towards Stewartstown, without paying any attention to the remonstrances of the prosecutrix; when in Stewartstown they drove to the prisoner’s house, where she saw the prisoner: after breakfast Miss Dick asked Miss Fairservice and the prosecutrix to go to Dungannon with her, as she wished to make some purchases. She was prevailed upon, and did go into Dungannon; remained shopping there until the evening; returned to Stewartstown, dined in the prisoner’s house; and about nine or ten o’clock the prosecutrix was asked by Miss Dick to go out to the next door to assist her in purchasing some thread; and the distance being so trifling, she did not think even of putting on her bonnet. When out of the halldoor, she was forcibly seized by some person, and put into a chaise in which was the prisoner, who caught her by the arm; when in the carriage she found her cloak and bonnet had been previously placed there, which was sufficient proof of the pre-concerted plan. The prosecutrix, the prisoner, with Miss Dick, and the other person, were driven to Lurgan, a distance of twenty miles, before day-light in the morning, the prisoner Dick guarding the prosecutrix with a pistol! After some time she was again put into the chaise, and driven to the house of a person named Swayne,where, after having wept and fasted the whole day, she was prevailed upon to go to bed with Miss Dick. From the fatigue she had suffered the two preceding nights, joined to the anxiety of mind she had undergone, she fell asleep; and found on awaking, that in place of Miss Dick being her bedfellow, the prisoner at the bar was. The next morning the prisoner attempted to soothe the prosecutrix by promises of marriage, and went to Dr. Cupples, of Lisburn, to procure a licence, leaving his sister and the other person to watch over her till his return; in spite of them, she contrived to escape to the house of a Mr. English, where she was protected until delivered into the hands of her uncle.”
This statement being supported by the evidence, the jury without hesitation found the prisoner Guilty—and he was sentenced to death.
THEextraordinary circumstances attending the execution of this unfortunate man give his case a melancholy interest. Our readers, doubtless, recollect the singular conduct of the Edinburgh mob, at the execution of Porteous. A scene, if possible more disgraceful, occurred on the present occasion.
Robert Johnston was a native of Edinburgh, where he spent the first part of his life without reproach. His parents were poor, and Robert was employed as a carter. In his twenty-fourth year he got into bad company, and was engaged in the robbery of a chandler in Edinburgh, and being apprehended he was brought to trial with two others, and found guilty. His companions had their sentence commuted to transportation for life, but on Johnston the law was ordered to be put in force.
The execution was directed to take place on the 30th December 1818, and on that day, the judgment of the law was carried out, but under circumstances of a most extraordinary nature. A platform was erected in the customary manner with a drop in the Lawnmarket, and an immense crowd having assembled, the unfortunate culprit was brought from the lock-up house at about twenty minutes before three o’clock, attended by two of the magistrates, the Reverend Mr. Tait, and the usual other functionaries. The customary devotions took place, and the unhappy wretch, with an air of the most undaunted boldness, gave the necessary signal. Nearly a minute elapsed, however, before the drop could be forced down, and then it was found that the toes of the wretched culprit were still touching the surface, so that he remained half suspended, and struggling in the most frightful manner. It is impossible to find words to express the horror which pervaded the crowd, while one or two persons were at work with axes beneath the scaffold, in the vain attempt to hew down a part of it beneath the feet of the criminal. The cries of horror from the populace continued to increase with indescribable vehemence; and it is hard to say how long this horrible scene might have lasted, had not a person near the scaffold, who was struck by a policeman, while pressing onward, cried out ‘Murder!’ Those who were not aware of the real cause of the cry imagined that it came from the convict, and a shower of stones, gatheredfrom the loose pavement of the street, compelled the magistrates and police immediately to retire. A cry of “Cut him down—he is alive,” then instantly burst from the crowd, and a person of genteel exterior jumped upon the scaffold, cut the rope, and the culprit fell down in a reclining position, after having hung during about five minutes only. A number of the mob now gained the scaffold, and taking the ropes from the neck and arms of the prisoner, they removed the cap from his head and loosening his clothes, carried him, still alive, towards High Street; while another party tore the coffin prepared to receive his body into fragments, and endeavoured unsuccessfully to demolish the fatal gallows. Many of the police were beaten in this riot; and the executioner, who was for some time in the hands of the mob, was severely injured. In the meantime the police-officers rallied in augmented force, and re-took the criminal from the mob, at the head of the Advocates’ Close. The unhappy man, half alive, stripped of part of his clothes, and with his shirt turned up, so that the whole of his naked back and the upper part of his body were exhibited, lay extended on the ground in the middle of the street, in front of the police-office. At last, after a considerable interval, some of the police-officers laying hold of him, dragged him trailing along the ground, for about twenty paces, into the office, where he remained upwards of half an hour, while he was attended by a surgeon, bled in both arms, and in the temporal vein, by which suspended animation was restored; but the unfortunate man did not utter a word. In the meantime a military force arrived from the Castle under the direction of a magistrate, and the soldiers were drawn up in the street surrounding the police-office and place of execution.
Johnston was then carried again to the scaffold. His clothes were thrown about him in such a way, that he seemed half naked, and while a number of men were about him, holding him up on the table, and fastening the rope again about his neck, his clothes fell down in a manner shocking to decency. While they were adjusting his clothes, the unhappy man was left vibrating, upheld partly by the rope about his neck, and partly by his feet on the table. At last the table was removed from beneath him, when, to the indescribable horror of every spectator, he was seen suspended, with his face uncovered, and one of his hands broke loose from the cords with which it should have been tied, and with his fingers convulsively twisting in the noose. Dreadful cries were now heard from every quarter. A chair was brought, and the executioner having mounted upon it, disengaged by force the hand of the dying man from the rope. He then descended, leaving the man’s face still uncovered, and exhibiting a dreadful spectacle. At length a napkin was thrown over his face amidst shouts of “Murder,” and “Shame, shame,” from the crowd. The unhappy wretch was observed to struggle very much, but his sufferings were at an end in a few minutes. The soldiers remained on the spot till the body was cut down; and, as it was then near dusk, the crowd gradually dispersed.
The following is a remarkable instance of a similar scene which occurred in France in the year 1828.
Peter Hebard, who had been confined in the prison at Abbey, in France, for five months, expecting the final order for his punishment, having been convicted of a murder, committed under aggravated circumstances, and who had been allowed to indulge in hopes of a reprieve, was told to prepare for death in the afternoon. For nearly five years an execution had nottaken place at Abbey, and the consequence was that an immense crowd assembled, which could with difficulty be kept in proper order by a large body of gendarmes. The prisoner was bound to the board laid across the scaffold; and upon the usual signal, his head was placed between thelunettein the guillotine. The knife fell with a trembling motion, but did not touch the criminal. A cry of horror arose from the crowd. The knife was again lifted—it fell a second time, but without reaching the criminal’s neck. A volley of stones was discharged at the executioner and his two assistants. For the third time the instrument was let down, but it only inflicted a slight wound. The executioners then quitted the scaffold for fear of the stones, and the criminal’s head continued for some minutes bound to the block. The chief executioner again mounted the scaffold, and the knife fell twice more without success. The excitement in the crowd became indescribable. The executioner fled, the criminal lifted his head up, and was greeted with cries of “Bravo!” but he could not get away from the cords. One of the executioners then got on the scaffold, told the unhappy man to turn his head, and at the same time seized him by the neck, and gave him several wounds with a shoemaker’s knife. Hebard’s head, nearly half off, hung on his shoulder; the spectacle was so horrible, and the spectators so enraged at the executioner, that he was obliged to make his escape amongst the gendarmes. Hebard, who was found standing up to the block, still breathed, and remained for two hours in that situation, during which time he frequently opened his mouth. It appears that the scaffold had been intentionally damaged by a person who acted as assistant to the executioner on account of a grudge. A question might arise, whether the executioner’s assistant had a right to stab the criminal, and so alter his punishment, which was to die by the guillotine.
THEname of Mr. Hunt is too well known to require it to be introduced to our readers with any long explanation of the particular character which he filled up to the time at which he underwent an imprisonment for a misdemeanor against the government. He was probably the most popular demagogue of the day, with the exception of Wilkes; and, like his prototype, he appears to have been totally undeserving the confidence or the applause of the people. Like Wilkes, too, he was the occasion of several deluded people losing their lives, while he himself escaped with a comparatively trifling punishment.
Hunt was born at Widdington, in the parish of Upavon, near Salisbury Plain, on the 6th November 1773. His father was a respectable farmer and our hero, when young, being designed for the church, obtained the rudiments of a classical education. At sixteen years of age, however, he altered his mind and joined his father, and having attained great proficiency in his new business, he was treated with great confidence by his father, from whom, at this early age, he imbibed principles diametrically opposed to those which he afterwards espoused. At the time of the threatened invasion in the year 1795, Hunt joined the Evelyn corps ofmilitia; but his commanders having refused to permit their men to quit the county in which they were enrolled, our hero, indignant at the supposed cowardice of his fellows, after having delivered himself of his maiden oration, urging them to volunteer in a new corps, threw his sword at his commander’s feet, and immediately afterwards joined a corps established under the patronage of Lord Bruce. It appears, however, that although his lordship’s loyalty was greater than that of the officers of the Evelyn militia, his attachment to his manorial rights was so strong, as to occasion a serious quarrel with his followers; for some of them having exercised their powers of sharp-shooting against his lordship’s pheasants, they immediately obtained their dismissal from his troop. Hunt was enraged at this supposed affront, and riding to the parade, he publicly challenged his late noble commander to fight a duel. Lord Bruce had not expected to meet with so violent a reception, and fairly fled; but in a few days afterwards he obtained a criminal information against his challenger, in the Court of King’s Bench, who was in consequence fined 100l., and sentenced to six weeks’ imprisonment. Old Hunt by this time had discharged the debt of nature, and the penalty was soon paid; but the six weeks during which our hero was detained in the Queen’s Bench prison served to banish all those feelings of loyalty with which he had before been inspired; and having associated himself with some persons, who were professed democrats, he soon joined them in their political creed. At about this time he was married to the daughter of a respectable inn-keeper, for whom he is said to have formed a most romantic attachment. The heat of his passion appears to have worn off very soon; and ere five years had elapsed he seduced another man’s wife, who eloped with him from Brighton. The conduct of Hunt in reference to this person appears to be of a most extraordinary character; for in his Memoirs, he speaks of the unalterable attachment which he bore her, and with the most fulsome declarations of his love for her, dwells on the happiness which he had experienced in her society up to the time of the publication of his work, when she was still living with him (1824). His indignant and injured wife, it appears, received an annuity of 300l.from him, with which she continued to maintain her two daughters, while her son remained under the care of his father, and his mistress.
Mr. Hunt, at this time, appears to have been living in a style of considerable pretension. The high prices of farm produce enabled him to maintain a large establishment, and he followed the sports of the field with great avidity, while he resided in Bath during the months which constituted the “season” of that then gay city.
We do not profess to give any lengthened history of his remarkable career, because to do so would be to exceed the limits and intention of a work of the character of the present; but the following, we believe, will be found to be a faithful, though necessarily short, narrative of the chief circumstances of his life.
While in Bath Mr. Hunt formed an acquaintance with the son of a brewer, who deluded him into a partnership; and it appears that he absolutely lost eight thousand pounds in a brewing concern at Bristol, which was the first occasion of his becoming acquainted with the people of that city.
In 1804 he first attended a public meeting, which was held at Devizes,respecting the conduct of Lord Melville; and, in the next year, he first affixed his name to a public address, calling on the inhabitants of Wiltshire to oppose the corn laws. Having once embarked in politics, he was ever restless, and on every possible occasion he forced himself upon public notice with officious zeal; and in 1807 he came forward at Bristol, to propose Sir John Jarvis, as a fit representative for that city.
His noisy interference on all public questions at this time, drew upon him a host of enemies, particularly among his own neighbours, who forbade him to sport upon their grounds; and, as no gentleman would hunt with him, he was obliged to dispose of his stud of horses. On one occasion he committed a trifling trespass, on which an action was brought against him, when he effectually pleaded his own cause, and, encouraged by success, he determined, from that day forward, to dispense with the assistance of counsel in any legal proceedings in which he might be engaged.
In 1809 he held the first meeting for reform, for by this time he had become a disciple of Cobbett. In 1811 he took a large farm in Sussex, called Rowfant, where he continued to reside for one year, at the expiration of which he sold it, and went to live at Middleton cottage, which is situated on the western road, three miles from Andover.
In 1812 he stood twice candidate for Bristol, but was defeated by a large majority on the opposition of the venerated Sir Samuel Romilly. This year he also became a liveryman of London, and from that time Guildhall was often favoured with his presence. He now attended almost every public meeting throughout the country, and gradually became the idol of the mob, to whose comprehension his speeches were admirably adapted. His patriotism, however, proved injurious to his private affairs, for we find, that in 1815, he had overdrawn his account with his bankers, who refused to advance him any more money.
In 1816 he attended the notorious meeting in Spa-fields, where he acted as chairman; but it is only justice to say, that he had held no previous communication with Thistlewood and his colleagues, except for the purpose of striking out some portion of their resolutions, which he considered as offensive. In the year 1818, he appears to have become so flattered by the success which his previous exertions as a popular speaker had gained for him, that he resolved to stand for Westminster, in opposition to Sir Francis Burdett; but whatever may have been his popularity among his own peculiar party, the experiment was unsuccessful, and at the close of the poll it was found that his friends had given only forty-one votes for him; and he had also to regret his rashness in thus publicly thrusting himself forward, as, while upon the hustings, he was soundly horsewhipped by a gentleman, upon whom he had previously inflicted a cowardly and an unmerited injury.
In the year 1819 the principles of radicalism appear to have reached a point of almost ungovernable fury, and Hunt secured to himself the character of the best and firmest champion of the party, by his conduct at a public meeting, which took place at Smithfield at this period, and at which, in truth, it appears that he acted in a manner without reproach.
An event, however, soon afterwards occurred which procured for him still greater notoriety. The Manchester reformers, who had posted up notices of a meeting to be holden on the 9th of August in this year, for the purpose of proceeding to the election of a representative, as at Birmingham,where the people had, some time before, elected Sir Charles Wolseley as their legislatorial attorney or representative, was informed by the magistrates that as the object of the proposed assemblage was unquestionably illegal, it would not be permitted to take place. In consequence of this expressed determination on the part of the authorities, the meeting was abandoned, but fresh notices were issued for a new assemblage on the 16th of the same month, with the avowed legal object of petitioning for a reform in parliament. An open space in the town, called St. Peter’s Field, was selected as the place of meeting, and never upon any former occasion of a similar nature was so great a number of persons known to have met together. For some hours before the proceedings were appointed to commence, large bodies of people continued marching into Manchester from the neighbouring villages and towns, formed in ranks five deep, and many of them armed with stout staves, while the whole body stepped together as if trained for military purposes. Each party bore its own banners, and among others two clubs of female reformers made their appearance, bearing flags of white silk. By mid-day it was calculated that 60,000 persons had assembled. The magistrates, it appears, were anxious that the peace should be preserved, and a number of special constables were sworn in, who formed themselves in a line, from the house in which the justices were sitting, to the stage or waggon fixed as a platform for the speakers. Soon after the business of the meeting had commenced, a body of yeomanry cavalry entered the ground, and advanced with drawn swords towards the stage, when their commanding-officer called to Mr. Hunt, who was addressing the meeting, and informed him that he was his prisoner. Mr. Hunt endeavoured to procure tranquillity among the people, and offered to surrender himself to any civil officer who should present himself, and should exhibit his warrant; and a constable immediately advanced and took him into custody, with some other persons who were similarly engaged. Some uneasiness being now exhibited among the mob, the yeomanry cried out to seize their flags. The men stationed near the waggon, in consequence began to strike down the banners, which were attached to the platform, and a similar course being pursued with respect to those which were raised in other parts of the field, a scene of the most indescribable confusion ensued. The immense number of persons on the field, rendered it almost impossible for the military to move without trampling down some of them under foot; and some resistance being offered, many persons, including females, were cut down with sabres, and while some were killed, the number of wounded amounted to between three and four hundred. In a short time, however, the ground was cleared of its original occupants, and as they fled in all directions, military patroles were immediately placed in the streets, to preserve tranquillity.
It would be almost impossible to give any lengthened or minute description of this riot, or “massacre,” as it has always been called by the radical opponents of government, without in some degree entering into the very strong feeling of party prejudice, which has been universally excited upon the subject. The real circumstances of the case may be said to be unsettled even to this day; and while the magistrates and their friends declare that, the Riot Act having been read, the subsequent proceedings on the part of the soldiery were both justified and necessary, the friends of the people as invariably deny the allegation of the reading of the Riot Act, and thereforecontend, that the introduction of a military force was harsh and unconstitutional. The whole transaction does not appear to have occupied more than ten minutes, in the course of which time the field seems to have been cleared of its recent occupiers, and filled with different corps of infantry and cavalry. Hunt and his colleagues were, after a short examination before the magistrates, conducted to solitary cells, on a charge of high-treason, and on the following day notices were issued by the magistrates, by which the practice of military training, alleged to have been carried on in secret, by large bodies of men, for treasonable purposes, was declared to be illegal. Public thanks were, by the same authority, returned to the officers and men of the respective corps engaged in the attack; and, on the arrival in London of a despatch from the local authorities, a cabinet council was held, the result of which was, the return of official letters of thanks to the magistrates, for their prompt, decisive, and efficient measures for the preservation of the public tranquillity; and to all the military engaged, for the support and assistance afforded by them to the civil power.
The circumstances of the Manchester case eventually turned out to be such, that government, by the advice of the law officers of the crown, found it expedient to abandon the threatened prosecution of Mr. Hunt and his colleagues for high-treason. Those persons were accordingly informed that they would be proceeded against for a conspiracy only, which might be bailed; but Mr. Hunt refused to give bail, even, as he said, to the amount of a single farthing: but some of his friends liberated him. On his return from Lancaster, where he had been confined, to Manchester, Hunt was drawn about two miles by women, and ten miles by men. In fact, his return was one long triumphal procession, waited upon by thousands, on horse, on foot, and in carriages, who hailed him with continued shouts of applause.
The sensation produced throughout the country by this fatal business was intense. Hunt’s conduct was universally applauded, and he received the thanks of nearly every county in England, and those even who opposed him on principle now forgot their enmity, and hailed him as the uncompromising champion of liberty. His entry into London was public, and some of the first characters of the day honoured him with their presence, whilst hundreds of thousands welcomed him with deafening applause.
The agitation had hardly subsided when true bills were found against Hunt and his companions, and their trials came on at York, and continued, without intermission, for fourteen days, during which time Hunt displayed powers of intellect, and acuteness of perception, of which even his friends did not suppose him to be possessed. He was found guilty, however, and ordered to be brought up to the Court of King’s Bench for sentence, but he afterwards moved, in person, for a new trial. Although he argued with all the tact and ability of the most experienced lawyer, his motion was refused, and he was sentenced to two years and a half imprisonment in Ilchester jail.
He had not been long incarcerated when he brought to light a system of the most infamous cruelty which had been practised on the unfortunate inmates of that prison by the barbarous jailor. Mr. Hunt himself, being treated with great cruelty, addressed a letter to Mr. Justice Bayley, detailing cases of atrocious cruelty; and the question being at length broughtbefore the House of Commons, an inquiry followed. Hunt substantiated all his charges, and the inhuman jailor was dismissed and punished, while the country rang with the praises of his accuser.
The period of his imprisonment having expired, he again made a public entry into London; but he found that the times had changed, even during that short time. The public prosperity had banished discontent, and with it that wild enthusiasm, which had before been exhibited in his favour, and he was greeted with none of those demonstrations of delight which had been before exhibited. He made several attempts to arouse the lethargy of his former admirers, but in vain; and he at length betook himself to repair his broken fortunes by the manufacture of English coffee, with roasted corn, and subsequently in 1824 he added that of blacking; and so successful was he in this enterprise, that “Hunt’s matchless” became almost as celebrated as the polish of Messrs. Day and Martin.
Mr. Hunt was subsequently returned as member for Preston in Lancashire, and he died while yet representing that place in parliament.
OURreaders will be somewhat prepared for the case of these notorious criminals by the perusal of the proceedings of those persons, whose discontent had already brought them within the lash of the law; as well as by the repetition of the name of Thistlewood, whose acquaintance and connection with Dr. Watson and the other Radical leaders of the day had rendered him a person whom the officers of justice deemed it wise to keep under theirsurveillance. The plot to which he was a party in the year 1820, and his engagement in which cost him his life, had for its object neither more nor less than the assassination of the whole of his majesty’s ministers, and the consequent overthrow of the government.
It was not until the 24th February 1820, that the public were made aware of the existence of the infernal machinations of this band of desperadoes, and then only did they learn it through the medium of the public press, which at once announced its existence and its frustration. Ere the morning had passed, however, a proclamation was plentifully distributed throughout the leading thoroughfares of the metropolis, offering a reward of 1000l.for the apprehension of the notorious Arthur Thistlewood, on a charge, of high treason and murder; and denouncing the heaviest penalties against all who should harbour or conceal him from justice.
It would appear that it had been long known to the members of the government, that a plan was in meditation by which they would all be murdered, and that Thistlewood was one of the originators of and prime movers in the horrid design; but in accordance with the system which then existed, of waiting until the crime should be all but matured, in order to secure a conviction of the offenders, they determined to make no effort to crush the scheme until a period should have arrived, when their own safety rendered it necessary. The conspirators meanwhile havingweighed various plans and projects for the accomplishment of their object, eventually determined to select the evening of Wednesday the 23rd February as that on which they would carry out their plot, and it was deemed advisable that this night should be fixed upon, because it became known to them by an announcement in the newspapers, that a cabinet dinner would then be held at the house of Lord Harrowby in Grosvenor-square. Contemptible as the means possessed by the conspirators were to carry their design fully into execution, it is certain, from the confession of one of them, that the first part of their project was planned with so much circumstantial exactness, that the assassination of all the ministers would have been secured. It would appear that it was arranged, that one of the party should proceed to Lord Harrowby’s house with a parcel addressed to his lordship, and that when the door opened, his companions should rush in, bind, or, in case of resistance, kill the servants, and occupy all the avenues of the house, while a select band proceeded to the chamber where the ministers were at dinner, and massacred the whole of them indiscriminately. To increase the confusion hand-grenades were prepared, which it was intended should be thrown lighted into the several rooms; and one of the party engaged to bring away the heads of lords Castlereagh and Sidmouth in a bag which he had provided for that purpose.
Thus far the conspirators might probably have carried their plans into effect; but of the scheme for a general revolution, which these men, whose number never exceeded thirty, appear to have considered themselves capable of accomplishing, we cannot seriously speak. Among other arrangements the Mansion House, selected we suppose for its proximity to the Bank, was fixed upon for the “palace of the provisional government.”
The place chosen for the final organization of their proceedings, and for collecting their force previous to immediate action, was a half-dilapidated tenement in an obscure street called Cato-street, near the Edgeware-road. The premises were composed of a stable, with a loft above, and had been for some time unoccupied. The people in the neighbourhood were ignorant that the stable was let, till the day fixed upon for the perpetration of their atrocious purpose, when several persons, some of whom carried sacks and other packages, were seen to go in and out, and carefully to lock the door after them.
The information upon which ministers proceeded, in frustrating the schemes of the conspirators, was derived from a man named Edwards, who pretended to enter into their views, for the purpose of betraying them.
Thus accurately informed of the intentions of the gang, measures were taken for their apprehension. A strong body of constables and police-officers, supported by a detachment of the guards, was ordered to proceed to Cato-street, under the direction of Mr. (afterwards Sir Richard) Birnie, the magistrate. On arriving at the spot they found that the conspirators had taken the precaution to place a sentinel below, and that the only approach to the loft was by passing up a ladder, and through a trap-door so narrow as not to admit more than one at a time. Ruthven led the way, followed by Ellis, Smithers, and others of the Bow-street patrole, and on the door being opened they discovered the whole gang, in number between twenty and thirty, hastily arming themselves. There was a carpenter’s bench in the room, on which lay a number of cutlasses, bayonets, pistols, sword-belts, and a considerable quantity of ammunition. Ruthven, uponbursting into the loft, announced himself as a peace-officer, and called upon them to lay down their arms. Thistlewood stood near the door with a drawn sword, and Smithers advanced upon him, when the former made a lunge, and the unfortunate officer received the blade in his breast, and almost immediately expired.
About this time the guards, who had been delayed in consequence of their having entered the street at the wrong end, arrived under the command of Captain (Lord Adolphus) Fitzclarence, and mounted the ladder; but as the conspirators had extinguished the lights, fourteen or fifteen of them succeeded in making their escape, and Thistlewood, the chief of the gang, was among the number. A desperate conflict now took place, and at length nine persons were made prisoners; namely Ings, Wilson, Bradburn, Gilchrist, Cooper, Tidd, Monument, Shaw, and Davidson. The whole of them were immediately conveyed to Bow-street, together with a large quantity of arms, consisting of pistols, guns, swords and pikes, and a large sack full of hand-grenades, besides other ammunition, which had been found in the loft. The same means, by which the conspiracy had been discovered, were now adopted in order to procure the discovery of the hiding-place of Thistlewood, and it was found that instead of his returning to his own lodgings in Stanhope-street, Clare Market, on the apprehension of his fellows, he had gone to an obscure house, No. 8 White-street, Moorfields. On the morning of the 24th February, at nine o’clock, Lavender and others of the Bow-street patrol were despatched to secure his apprehension; and after planting a guard round the house, so as to prevent the possibility of his escaping, they entered a room on the ground-floor, where they found the object of their inquiry in bed, with his stockings and breeches on. In his pockets were found some ball-cartridges and flints, a black girdle or belt, which he was seen to wear at Cato-street, and a military sash.
He was first conveyed to Bow-street, and there shortly examined by Sir R. Birnie, by whom he was subsequently conducted to Whitehall, where he was introduced to the presence of the Privy Council. He was still handcuffed, but he mounted the stairs leading to the council-chamber with great alacrity. On his being informed of the nature of the charges made against him, by the lord chancellor, he declined saying anything and was remanded to prison. In the course of the week several other persons were apprehended as being accessories to the plot; and on the 3rd March, Thistlewood, Monument, Brunt, Ings, Wilson, Harrison, Tidd, and Davidson, were committed to the Tower as state prisoners, the rest of the persons charged being again sent to Coldbath-fields prison, where they had been previously confined.
The case of the parties to this most diabolical conspiracy immediately received the attention of the law officers of the crown; and on the 15th April 1820, a special commission having issued, the prisoners were arraigned at the bar of the Old Bailey on the charge of high treason, and also of murder, in having caused the death of the unfortunate Smithers. There were eleven prisoners, Arthur Thistlewood, William Davidson (a man of colour), James Ings, John Thomas Brunt, Richard Tidd, James Wilson, John Harrison, Richard Bradburn, John Shaw Strange, James Gilchrist, and Charles Cooper, and they all pleaded Not guilty to the charges preferred against them.
Counsel having been assigned to the prisoners, and the necessary forms having been gone through, Thistlewood received an intimation that his case would be taken on Monday morning the 17th of the same month, and the prisoners were remanded to that day.
At the appointed time, accordingly, Arthur Thistlewood was placed at the bar. He looked pale, but evinced his usual firmness. The jury having been sworn, and the indictment read, the attorney-general stated the case at great length, and twenty-five witnesses were examined in support of the prosecution, among whom were several accomplices, whose testimony was satisfactorily corroborated. Some of those who appeared to give evidence had been apprehended on the fatal night in Cato-street, but were now admitted witnesses for the crown. After a trial which occupied the court four days, Thistlewood was found Guilty of high treason. He heard the verdict with his wonted composure, seeming to have anticipated it; for when it was pronounced he appeared quite indifferent to what so fatally concerned him.
The evidence against Tidd, Ings, Davidson, and Brunt, whose trials came on next in succession, differed little from that upon which Thistlewood was convicted, and they were also found Guilty. Their trials being separate, occupied the court six days. On the evening of the tenth day the six remaining prisoners, at the suggestion of their counsel, pleaded Guilty, having been permitted to withdraw their former plea, by which they eventually escaped capital punishment.
On Friday, April the 28th, the eleven prisoners were brought up to receive sentence. When the usual question was put to Thistlewood by the clerk of arraigns, why he should not receive sentence to die, he pulled a paper from his pocket, and read as follows:—
“I am asked, my lord, what I have to say that judgment of death should not be passed upon me according to law. This to me is mockery—for were the reasons I could offer incontrovertible, and were they enforced even by the eloquence of a Cicero, still would the vengeance of my Lords Castlereagh and Sidmouth be satiated only in the purple stream which circulates through a heart more enthusiastically vibrating to every impulse of patriotism and honour, than that of any of those privileged traitors to their country, who lord it over the lives and property of the sovereign people with barefaced impunity. The reasons which I have, however, I will now state—not that I entertain the slightest hope from your sense of justice or from your pity.—The former is swallowed up in your ambition, or rather by the servility you descend to, to obtain the object of that ambition—the latter I despise; justice I demand; if I am denied it, your pity is no equivalent. In the first place, I protest against the proceedings upon my trial, which I conceive to be grossly partial, and contrary to the very spirit of justice; but, alas! the judges, who have heretofore been considered the counsel of the accused, are now, without exception, in all cases between the crown and the people, the most implacable enemies of the latter.—In every instance, the judges charge the jury to find the subject guilty; nay, in one instance, the jury received a reprimand, and that not in the genteelest terms, for not strictly obeying the imperious mandate from the bench.
“The court decided upon my trial to commit murder rather than depart in the slightest degree from its usual forms; nay, it is with me aquestion if the form is usual, which precluded me from examining witnesses to prove the infamy of Adams, of Hieden, and of Dwyer. Ere the solicitor-general replied to the address of my counsel, I applied to the court to hear my witnesses: the court inhumanly refused, and I am in consequence to be consigned to the scaffold. Numerous have been the instances in which this rule of court has been infringed; but to have infringed it in my case would have been to incur the displeasure of the crown, and to forfeit every aspiring hope of promotion. A few hours hence I shall be no more, but the nightly breeze which shall whistle over the silent grave that shall protect me from its keenness, will bear to your restless pillow the memory of one, who lived but for his country, and died when liberty and justice had been driven from its confines, by a set of villains, whose thirst for blood is only to be equalled by their activity in plunder. For life, as it respects myself, I care not—but while yet I may, I would rescue my memory from the calumny, which I doubt not will be industriously heaped upon it, when it will be no longer in my power to protect it. I would explain the motives which induced me to conspire against the ministers of his majesty, and I would contrast them with those which those very ministers have acted upon in leading me to my ruin. To do this, it will be necessary to take a short review of my life for a few months prior to my arrest for the offence for which I am to be executed, without a trial, or at least without an impartial one, by a jury of my peers. ’Tis true the form, the etiquette of a trial, has been gone through; but I challenge any of the judges on the bench to tell me, to tell my country, that justice was not denied me in the very place where justice only should be administered. I challenge them to say that I was fairly tried; I challenge them to say if I am not murdered, according to the etiquette of a court, falsely called of justice? I had witnesses in court to prove that Dwyer was a villain beyond all example of atrocity. I had witnesses in court to prove that Adams was a notorious swindler, and that Hieden was no better; these were the three witnesses—indeed almost the only ones against me—but the form and rules of court must not be infringed upon to save an unfortunate individual from the scaffold. I called those witnesses at the close of Mr. Adolphus’ address to the jury, and before the solicitor-general commenced his reply, but the court decided that they could not be heard. Some good men have thought, and I have thought so too, that before the jury retired all evidence was in time for either the prosecutor or the accused, and more particularly for the latter; nay, even before the verdict was given, that evidence could not be considered too late. Alas! such people drew their conclusion from principles of justice only; they never canvassed the rules of court, which have finally sealed my unhappy doom.
“Many people, who are acquainted with the barefaced manner in which I was plundered by my Lord Sidmouth, will, perhaps, imagine that personal motives instigated me to the deed, but I disclaim them. My every principle was for the prosperity of my country; my every feeling, the height of my ambition, was the securing the welfare of my starving brother Englishmen. I keenly felt for their miseries; but when their miseries were laughed at, and when because they dared to express those miseries, they were cut down by hundreds, inhumanly massacred and trampled upon, when infant babes were sabred in their mothers’ arms, nay, when the breast from whence they drew the tide of life was severedfrom the body which supplied that life, my feelings became too intense, too excessive for endurance, and I resolved on vengeance—I resolved that the lives of the instigators should be the requiem to the souls of the murdered innocents.
“In this mood I met with George Edwards, and if any doubt should remain upon the minds of the public whether the deed I meditated was virtuous or contrary, the tale I will now relate will convince them, that in attempting to exercise a power which the law had ceased to have, I was only wreaking national vengeance on a set of wretches unworthy of the name or character of men.
“This Edwards, poor and penniless, lived near Pickett-street in the Strand, some time ago, without a bed to lie upon, or a chair to sit in. Straw was his resting place; his only covering a blanket. Owing to his bad character, and his swindling conduct, he was driven from thence by his landlord. It is not my intention to trace him through his immorality: suffice it to say, that he was in every sense of the word a villain of the deepest atrocity. His landlord refused to give him a character. Some short time after this, he called upon his landlord again; but mark the change in his appearance; dressed like a lord, in all the folly of the reigning fashion. He now described himself as the right heir to a German baron, who had been some time dead, that Lords Castlereagh and Sidmouth had acknowledged his claims to the title and property; had interfered in his behalf with the German government, and supplied him with money to support his rank in society. From this period I date his career as a government spy.
“He got himself an introduction to the Spenceans, by what means I am not aware of; and thus he became acquainted with the reformers in general. When I met with Edwards, after the massacre at Manchester, he described himself as very poor; and after several interviews, he proposed a plan for blowing up the House of Commons. This was not my view. I wished to punish the guilty only, and therefore I declined it. He next proposed that we should attack the ministers at the fête given by the Spanish ambassador. This I resolutely opposed: because the innocent would perish with the guilty: besides, there were ladies invited to the entertainment, and I, who am shortly to ascend the scaffold, shuddered with horror at the idea of that, a sample of which had previously been given by the agents of government at Manchester, and which the ministers of his majesty applauded. Edwards was ever ready at invention; and at length he proposed attacking them at a cabinet dinner. I asked where were the means to carry his project into effect? He replied, if I would accede, we should not want for means. He was as good as his word: from him, notwithstanding his apparent penury, the money was provided for purchasing the stores which your lordships have seen produced in court upon my trial. He who was never possessed of money to pay for a pint of beer, had always plenty to purchase arms or ammunition. Amongst the conspirators, he was ever the most active; ever inducing people to join him, up to the last hour ere the undertaking was discovered.
“I had witnesses in court, who could prove they went to Cato-street by appointment with Edwards, with no other knowledge or motive than that of passing an evening amongst his friends. I could also have proved, that subsequent to the fatal transaction, when we met in Holborn, he endeavouredto induce two or three of my companions to set fire to houses and buildings in various parts of the metropolis. I could prove that, subsequent to that again, he endeavoured to induce men to throw hand-grenades into the carriages of the ministers, as they passed through the streets; and yet this man, the contriver, the instigator, the entrapper, is secured from justice, and from exposure, by those very men, who seek vengeance against the victims of his and their villany. To the attorney and solicitor generals I cannot impute the clearest motives: their object seems to me to have been rather to secure a verdict against me, than to obtain a full and fair exposition of the whole affair, since its commencement. If their object was justice alone, why not bring Edwards as a witness, if not as an accomplice? but no, they knew that by keeping him in the back-ground, my proofs, ay my incontrovertible proofs, of his being a hired spy, the suggester and promoter, must, according to the rules of court, also be excluded. Edwards and his accomplices arranged matters in such a manner, as that his services might be dispensed with on the trial, and thus were the jury cut off from every chance of ascertaining the real truth. Adams, Hieden, and Dwyer, were the agents of Edwards, and truly he made a most admirable choice, for their invention seems to be inexhaustible.
“With respect to the immorality of our project, I will just observe, that the assassination of a tyrant has always been deemed a meritorious action. Brutus and Cassius were lauded to the very skies for slaying Cæsar; indeed, when any man, or any set of men, place themselves above the laws of their country, there is no other means of bringing them to justice, than through the arm of a private individual. If the laws are not strong enough to prevent them from murdering the community, it becomes the duty of every member of that community to rid the country of its oppressors. High treason was committed against the people at Manchester, but justice was closed against the mutilated, the maimed, and the friends of those, who were upon that occasion indiscriminately massacred. The Prince, by the advice of his ministers, thanked the murderers, still reeking in the gore of their hapless victims. If one spark of honour, if one spark of independence still glimmered in the breasts of Englishmen, they would have risen to a man. Insurrection then became a public duty; and the blood of the victims should have been the watchword to vengeance on their murderers. The banner of independence should have floated in the gale, that brought their wrongs and their sufferings to the metropolis. Such, however, was not the case; Albion is still in the chains of slavery. I quit it without regret,—I shall soon be consigned to the grave,—my body will be immured beneath the soil whereon I first drew breath,—my only sorrow is, that that soil should be a theatre for slaves, for cowards, for despots. My motives, I doubt not, will hereafter be justly appreciated. I will now conclude, therefore, by stating that I shall consider myself as murdered, if I am to be executed on the verdict obtained against me, by the refusal of the court to hear my evidence.
“I could have proved Dwyer to be a villain of the blackest dye, for since my trial, an accomplice of his, named Arnold, has been capitally convicted at this very bar, for obtaining money under circumstances of an infamous nature. I seek not pity; I demand but justice. I have not had a fair trial, and upon that ground I protest that judgment ought not to be passed against me.”
The Lord Chief Justice, during the reading of this address, more than once interposed, to prevent the prisoner from either seeking to justify assassination, or slandering the characters of witnesses who had appeared to give evidence in that court. The prisoner, however, proceeded to read till he had finished what had been written on the paper in his hand. His manner was rapid and confused; and the mode in which he pronounced several words, gave abundant evidence that this paper was not his own composition.
Mr. Shelton then put the same question to Davidson, who spoke with great vehemence, and much gesticulation, nearly as follows:—
“My lords, you ask me what I have to say why I should not receive judgment to die for what has been said against me. I answer, that I protest against the proceedings in this trial in toto. In the first place, I always thought that in a court of justice, the balance of justice was held with an even hand. But this has not been the case with me; I stand here helpless and friendless. I endeavoured to show that the evidence against me was contradictory and incredible, and I hoped I had made an impression on the gentlemen in the box; but the moment I was done, the attorney-general got up and told them, that the evidence was pure and uncontaminated, and to this I may add, that Baron Garrow almost insisted that they should pronounce me guilty. I would ask, has any person identified me but the officers? who, every one knows, have at all times been instrumental in the death of innocent persons. I do not now plead for my life; I know I must fall a victim to the vengeance of my enemies. But in what manner have I been guilty of high treason? It would seem I was a silent spectator; none of the witnesses impute to me a single observation. Now is this probable? I had always got a great deal to say for myself, consequently I was not the person who would stand by without uttering a word; and yet such has been the testimony of Adams. Then, with regard to the blunderbuss, I have already explained that this was not mine, and that I acted in that affair entirely as the agent of Edwards. I have also declared how I came by the sword, and I now declare upon my soul, which will shortly appear before its Maker, that I never made any blow at any man, or discharged any carbine. As for Munday, the man who swore that I had a long sword, with a pair of pistols in my girdle, who is he? He is a poor labouring man, who comes here for his day’s pay and his victuals, to swear away the life of a fellow-creature, and to support the unfounded charge against me that I meant to assassinate his Majesty’s ministers. I appeal to any man, whether it is upon such evidence that the life of an innocent man is to be sacrificed? But even supposing, for the sake of argument, that the lives of his Majesty’s ministers were threatened, it did not follow that this was to extend to the king himself. In a passage of Magna Charta, it was ordained that twenty-five barons should be nominated to see that the terms of the charter were not infringed; and if it was found his Majesty’s ministers were guilty of such infringement, then four barons were to call upon them for redress. If this were not granted, then the four barons were to return to their brethren, by whom the people were to be called together to take up arms, and assert their rights. Such an act was not considered, in old times, as an act of treason towards the king, however hostile it might be towards his ministers. But this does not apply to me. I had no intention of joining in any scheme whatever, either to put down my king, or tomurder his ministers. I was entrapped by Goldsworthy and Edwards, in order, for some private purposes of their own, that they might have my life sworn away. I have no objection to tender my life in the service of my country; but let me at least, for the sake of my children, save my character from the disgrace of dying a traitor. For my children only do I feel, and when I think of them, I am deprived of utterance——. I can say no more.”
Ings, on being called upon, said, “I have very little to say, for my abilities will not allow me to speak. If Mr. Edwards had not got acquainted with me, I should not be here; he came to me, unfortunately, when I had no business, nor any means of getting a living for my family. I entered into the conspiracy only through him, and it was only necessity and the want of means to support my wife and family that brought me here. It is only through Edwards that I shall lose my life. I do not mind dying, if you will let that man come forward and die with me on the scaffold; for it was through him that I was going to do that which, I must allow, was of a most disgraceful and inhuman nature. On the other hand, his Majesty’s ministers conspire together, and impose laws to starve me and my family, and my fellow countrymen; and if I were going to assassinate these ministers, I do not see that it is so bad as starvation. There is another thing, a meeting was called at Manchester, under the protection of the law of England, for which our forefathers died, and which King John signed in the open air. This meeting was called under the protection of that law, for the people to petition parliament to give them their rights; but previous to the business of the meeting, the Manchester yeomanry rode in among them, and cut down men, women, and children, in a manner that was a disgrace to the very name of Englishmen. Those yeomen had their swords ground beforehand, and I had a sword ground also, but I do not see any harm in that. I shall suffer, no doubt; but I hope my children will live to see justice done to their bleeding country: I would rather die like a man, than live like a slave. I am sorry I have not power to say more; I shall therefore withdraw.”
John Thomas Brunt next addressed the court in the following terms:—“I am precluded from saying much: I had intended to have committed to writing my defence, but I have been denied pen, ink, and paper;—as such, what I have to state will be very short. In the first place, whatever impression I made on the jury yesterday, was knocked down by the Solicitor-General, who appears to me, by his sophistical eloquence, to be capable of making the worst of crimes appear a virtue. And next, with regard to Edwards, to whose machinations I have at last fallen a dupe: he once before nearly entrapped me, when a cabinet dinner was given, I believe, at the Earl of Westmoreland’s. He said he had part of the men mustered, but there was not sufficient. He had like to have hooked me in then, but I happened not to go to the house. No doubt that Hieden was in that plot for me; it was held at the Scotch Arms. Of all the infamous characters on earth, Edwards is the worst; and yet he has been kept altogether out of the view of the court. I protest against the verdict which has been pronounced against me. For my life, if it was sacrificed in the cause of liberty, I care not a farthing; but it is galling to have it sworn away by a set of villains who thirst after blood, merely for the sake of personal gain. Edwards is far more worthy of punishment than any ofus. He it was that furnished the arms—and he it was that goaded us on to our own ruin. He always spoke well of me, and said, if he had a hundred such men as me, he would be satisfied. He knew I was not a shuttlecock, to be bandied about at pleasure. He knew he could put confidence in my word, and that I would perish before I shrunk from what I undertook.” (The prisoner then went on in a strain of strong invective against the witness Adams.) After which he referred to the two Monuments. These two persons had been described by the Solicitor-General, as having had no communication with each other, and yet having agreed in all respects in their testimony. Was this the fact? No, for three weeks previous to the trials, they met twice a day at the Tower, rehearsed their story, and thus were enabled to come forward quite perfect in their respective parts. He next adverted to the character of his apprentice Hale, and was casting strong reflections on his conduct—when
The chief justice said he could not suffer such observations to be made under such circumstances.
Brunt begged pardon, but said he stated nothing but facts. He next adverted to the conduct of Lords Castlereagh and Sidmouth; “They,” he said, “had been the cause of the death of millions, and although he admitted he had conspired to put such men out of the world, still he did not think that amounted to high treason. He was one of those who would have been satisfied with taking off the cabinet ministers; but the verdict against him, of intending to depose his majesty, he contended, was utterly at variance with truth and justice. He had never contemplated any such consequence. He was neither a traitor to his king nor to his country; nor would he suffer any man in his presence to speak irreverently of his sovereign. In undertaking to kill Lord Castlereagh, Lord Sidmouth, and their fellow ministers, he did not expect to save his life—he was determined to die a martyr in his country’s cause, and to avenge the innocent blood shed at Manchester.” In conclusion, he said he was willing to suffer for the acts which he had contemplated; but it grieved him to think that he was to suffer for a crime of which he was innocent, namely, High Treason. On these grounds, he protested against the verdict of the jury, as contrary to law and justice.
Richard Tidd was the next called upon. He spoke as follows:—
“My lords and gentlemen, being only found guilty so late last night, I have not had an opportunity to make up any defence. All I can say is, and I positively swear it, that the evidence that has come before you, with the exception of that of Captain Fitzclarence, is utterly false.”
James Wilson said, “I am not gifted with the power of talking much, but I mean to say, that I was certainly drawn into this by this Edwards.”
John Harrison, and John Shaw Strange, contented themselves with declaring that they had been brought into the matter by Edwards.
James Gilchrist addressed the court in the following terms. “What I shall say in the presence of my God and you is, that till the Wednesday evening at four o’clock, I knew nothing about this business. I was going to look for work, and I had neither money nor bread; so I went to what I was told was to be a supper of the radicals. At six o’clock I met Charles Cooper, who was the only man I knew, and I borrowed a halfpenny of him, which with another enabled me to get a pennyworth of bread, and this I eat very sweet. I wish I may never come out of thisplace if I tell false. We then went into the stable and up stairs, where there was some bread and cheese. I took an old sword and hewed down the loaf, of which others who were as hungry as me partook. I then asked what all these arms were about, and when I heard, I was so shocked that I determined to get away as fast as I could. Soon after the officers and soldiers came, and I thought it my duty to surrender. I now stand here convicted of high treason, after I served my king and country for twelve years, and this is the recompense. Oh, God!—I have nothing more to say.”
Charles Cooper said, he had much to say, but his friends thought it would be imprudent. He said, “he could only declare that he was not guilty of the crime imputed to him.”
The crier of the court now proclaimed silence in the usual manner, while sentence of death was passing upon the prisoners:—and the Lord Chief Justice then proceeded to address the prisoners severally by their respective names.
After a most admirable and affecting speech, he passed sentence in the usual form upon them, directing that after they should have been hanged, their heads should be severed from their bodies, and their bodies divided into four quarters, which should be at the disposal of his majesty.
The execution of Thistlewood, Ings, Brunt, Davidson, and Tidd, took place on the following Monday, at Newgate. Davidson was the only prisoner who did not reject religious consolation; and Thistlewood, when on the scaffold, turned away from the ordinary, with an expression of indifference and contempt.