She was executed at Coventry, on the 11th of August, 1831.
It has been frequently observed with great truth, that secret poisoning is one of the worst of crimes; because it is an offence against which even the most wary can provide no safeguard. In the case the particulars of which we have now laid before our readers, one is at a loss to account forthe crime of which the wretched convict was guilty; and no less must we be surprised at the means taken by the unhappy girl to secure her object, than at the circumstance of a person in her position, with regard to her victim, engaging in so fearful a transaction. Poisoning is universally looked upon as a crime of peculiar atrocity; but the following anecdote will exhibit the diminution of the frequency of its occurrence in recent years.
In the year 1670, the Marchioness of Brinvilliers, a lady of noble family, resided in Paris. An officer named St. Croix, of good family but ruined reputation, having formed an intrigue with her, her friends procured his confinement in the Bastille, where he acquired from some Italians the art of compounding poison. On his liberation he hastened to the marchioness, and imparted to her his acquisition, as a means of revenging themselves, and of bettering their ruined fortunes. She eagerly entered into his views, and carried on the horrid trade with a diabolical activity. Her husband, father, brothers, and sister quickly perished. She is said to have disguised herself as a nun, and distributed poisoned biscuits to the poor, in order to try the efficacy of her poisons. Her career was cut short by an accident. A glass mask which St. Croix wore while preparing his poisons fell off, and he was found suffocated in his laboratory. A casket was also found there, which was directed to Madame Brinvilliers, but opened by the police. It contained poisons sufficient to destroy a community, labelled differently, according to their effects, as ascertained by experiments on animals. St. Croix’s servant was seized, tortured, and confessed the crimes of his employers, in which he had aided. The marchioness escaped, but at last was captured; and having undergone the torture with inflexible courage, was beheaded. On her person was found a full confession and detail of her horrible crimes. This punishment did not put a stop to the crime of poisoning in France, which was very common between the years 1670 and 1680.
HUMANnature itself must be startled at the horrible crime for the commission of which this wretch was executed. The depravity of mankind appears in him to have met with one of its fittest and most atrocious representatives.
He was indicted at the Croydon Assizes, on Wednesday the 10th of August, 1831, for a rape upon Harriet Hogsden, his own daughter, a girl only seventeen years of age.
The evidence of the prosecutrix even placed the transaction in a blacker light than that in which it had previously stood. The prisoner and his family, consisting of his wife, the witness, and a younger sister, resided on Ashtead Common, in the county of Surrey; and so many of them as were able to work had employment on the farm of Mr. Haggett, in the neighbourhood. On the 27th of July, the prisoner’s wife and youngest daughter went at four o’clock in the morning to work, the prisoner having been outall night. At six o’clock the prisoner came home and found the prosecutrix alone in the house. He then committed the fearful crime which was alleged against him, under circumstances of an appalling nature, which it would be impossible to repeat. The girl implored him to desist, and used every exertion in her power to repel his vile attack, but in vain. The presence of an infant—the offspring, as the girl swore, of a former forced connexion with her unnatural parent—had no effect in inducing him to desist, but only brought down oaths of vengeance if she dared to say one word of what occurred. The girl immediately sent for her mother and informed her of the dreadful scene which had been enacted; and the prisoner was, in consequence, taken into custody.
The prisoner, in his defence, strove to elicit from the girl that she had had an acquaintance with a packman, who was the father of her child, and that he had found him in bed with her on the morning in question, but without effect; the girl swore that she had never been intimate with any man except her father!
The wretched man then adopted a new line of defence, declaring that the girl was not his daughter; but this too failed, and at length the villain, driven from his second standing-place, asserted boldly that his daughter had been a consenting party to all that had occurred.
In a written defence which he put in, he endeavoured to persuade the jury that the charge had been trumped up by his wife and the prosecutrix, because they wanted to get rid of him; and urged that it was unlikely that he should be guilty of such a crime at such a period, when he had been up all night watching his mother’s grave, where her remains had only been interred the day before; a fact which on inquiry turned out to be true.
The jury unhesitatingly returned a verdict of Guilty, and the prisoner was immediately sentenced to be executed; a sentence which was carried out on Monday, the 21st of August, 1831; when the miserable convict admitted the justice of his punishment.
We shall abstain from adding any further account of the life of this diabolical ruffian, exhibiting as its circumstances do a degree of sinfulness and crime not exceeded by any of those bloodthirsty murderers whose offences it is our duty to describe.
At his execution, as during his trial, he exhibited the most callous indifference.
OURreaders will be astonished when they learn that this wretched malefactor, at the time of his execution, had attained the age of fourteen years only; but the circumstances of the bloody tragedy in which he was the chief actor show him to have been fully deserving the fate which befel him.
He was indicted at the Maidstone assizes on Friday, the 29th of July, 1831, for the wilful murder of Richard F. Taylor, a boy aged only thirteen years, in a wood in the parish of Chatham.
Few cases had ever produced a greater degree of interest in the countyof Kent than that of this wretched culprit, and his still more unfortunate victim.
From the evidence it appeared that Taylor was the son of a poor man of the same name, a tallow-chandler, living at Stroud. On Friday, March the 4th, the little fellow, who was described as having possessed peculiar intelligence and an amiable disposition, was despatched to Aylesford to receive a sum of 9s., the amount of a weekly parish allowance to his father. He was dressed at the time in a “south-wester,” with a belcher handkerchief round his neck, blue jacket and waistcoat, brown trousers, and shoes and stockings; and his father, at his request, lent him a knife, with which he expressed his intention to cut a bow and arrow on his way home. The boy arrived safely at Aylesford, when Mr. Cutbath, the relieving officer of the parish, gave him the usual amount of 9s. The boy had before been instructed by his father as to the mode of carrying the money, and the little fellow had shown him how completely and how securely he could conceal it, by putting it into a little bag, which he could carry in the palm of his hand inside a mitten which he wore; and on this occasion he was observed to place the silver in the customary manner in his hand. He usually reached home at about three o’clock, but on this afternoon he did not return. As night advanced his father became alarmed at his absence; and on the next morning he determined to go himself to Aylesford, for the purpose of making inquiries for him. The fact of his having received the money was ascertained; but all search for him proved unavailing, and his parents were left in a most painful state of doubt as to the cause of his sudden disappearance.
Several weeks passed without any circumstance being disclosed at all calculated to calm their apprehensions; and it was not until the 11th of May that the real fact of the murder of the unhappy boy was discovered. On that day a man named Izzard was passing through a bye-path in a wood situated at a distance of about two miles from Rochester, and about thirty rods from the high road,—a spot which lay in the road from Stroud to Aylesford,—when he found the body of the boy lying in a ditch. The mitten was cut from his left hand, and his clothes were disarranged as if in a scuffle; and although the body was so much decomposed as to prevent his being able to discover by what means his death had been produced, the remains of blood upon his shirt, coat, and neckerchief left no doubt of the dreadful death which he had suffered.
Information of the discovery was at once conveyed to the parents of the boy, who lost no time in proceeding to the spot; and a surgical examination of the body took place on the ensuing day. Mr. Seaton, a surgeon, conducted this inquiry; and the result was an expression of his undoubted opinion that the deceased had died of a wound which had been inflicted in his throat with a sharp-pointed instrument, the mark of which was still visible, notwithstanding the extreme decomposition of the surrounding flesh, which could not have been inflicted by the deceased himself, unless by the exercise of extraordinary determination and nerve.
A diligent search was immediately instituted for the purpose of endeavouring to find the instrument with which this terrible murder had been committed, and in a short time a common white horn-handled knife was found, corroded with rust, which had every appearance of being the weapon which had been used by the murderer. The discovery of thisweapon afforded some clue to the parties implicated in the transaction; and a man named Bell, and his two sons, John Amy Bird Bell, and James Bell, respectively of the ages of fourteen and eleven years, were taken into custody. These persons lived in the poor-house, nearly adjoining the spot where the murder was committed; and the information obtained by the constable, by which the knife which had been found was discovered to have belonged to the boy John Bell, afforded conclusive testimony of one at least of them having been concerned in the foul deed.
An investigation into the circumstances of the murder took place before the magistrates at Rochester, the result of which was, that convincing proof was obtained of the implication of the two boys. During this inquiry it became necessary that the body of the deceased should be exhumed, for it had been buried immediately after it had been discovered and the coroner’s jury had sat, in order that the person of the boy might be searched—an operation which had been previously most unaccountably omitted. At the time of this examination being made, the two younger prisoners were taken to the grave-yard, for the purpose of observing the effect of the proceeding upon them. The elder boy, John, maintained throughout a sullen silence; but his brother James, on being desired to enter the grave and search the pockets of the clothes of the deceased, which had been buried on his person, cheerfully complied, and brought forth the knife which the father of the unhappy lad had lent him on his setting out for Aylesford. This was the only article found upon him, and robbery, therefore, it was at once seen, had been the object of his murderer.
The prisoners after this underwent another examination before the magistrates; and upon their being again remanded, the younger boy confessed that he and his brother had committed the murder—that his brother had waylaid the deceased in the wood, while he had remained at its outskirts to keep watch. Upon this the evidence of the younger boy was accepted; and the father having been discharged from custody, although strong suspicion had been excited of his having been an accessory after the commission of the crime, the prisoner, John Amy Bird Bell, was committed for trial. The statement of the younger boy exhibited a remarkable degree of depravity in the conduct of his brother and himself. He said that they had long contemplated the murder of their wretched victim, having learned from him the errand upon which he so frequently travelled from Stroud to Aylesford and back; but various circumstances had prevented the completion of their design until the 4th of March, when it was carried out by John, who afterwards gave him 1s. 6d. as his share of the proceeds of the transaction.
On the way to Maidstone, the prisoner acknowledged the truth of his brother’s statement, and pointed out a pond where he had washed his hands of the blood of his victim on his way home after the murder. He also pointed to the opening leading to the spot where the murder was committed, and saying to the officer, “That’s where I killed the poor boy,” added, “He is better off than I am now; do not you think he is, sir?” an observation to which the constable assented. He afterwards proceeded to describe more minutely the circumstances attending the murder. He said that he had met the deceased on his way home, and had entered into conversation with him. He induced him to enter the wood; and having taken him through a great many windings, at last satdown and declared that he had lost himself. The poor boy also sat down and began to cry, declaring that he did not know his way out; upon which he threw himself upon him and stabbed him in the throat. He had some difficulty in finding the money, but at last discovered it in his left hand, from whence he took it. He said that it consisted of three half-crowns, a shilling, and a sixpence, and that he had given the two latter coins to his brother. He added, that he wished that his brother should see him executed, for he knew he should be hanged, as it might prove a warning to him.
At the trial the prisoner exhibited the utmost indifference to his fate, and appeared to entertain no fear for the consequences of his guilt. He maintained his firmness throughout a most feeling address of the learned judge, in which he was sentenced to death, but exhibited some emotion upon his being informed that a part of the sentence was, that his body should be given over to the surgeons to be dissected.
The hardihood which he had displayed hitherto, however, deserted him when he entered his cell, and then he wept bitterly. When his mother visited him on Sunday afternoon, he accused her of being the cause of bringing him to his “present scrape.” On Sunday evening, after the condemned sermon had been preached by the reverend chaplain, he made a full confession of his guilt. His statement did not materially differ from that which was given on the trial; but he added some particulars of the conduct of his victim before he murdered him, which make the blood run cold. He said that when he sprang upon Taylor with the knife in his hand, the poor boy, aware of his murderous intention, fell upon his knees before him, offered him all the money he had, his knife, his cap, and whatever else he liked—said he would love him during the whole of his life, and never tell what had happened to any human being, if he would spare him. This pathetic appeal was lost on the murderer, and, without making any answer to it, he struck the knife into his throat.
At half-past eleven o’clock on Monday morning, the solemn peals of the prison-bell announced the preparations for the execution. After the operation of pinioning had been completed, the culprit, attended by the chaplain, walked steadily to the platform. When he appeared there, he gazed steadily around him; but his eye did not quail, nor was his cheek blanched. After the rope was adjusted round his neck, he exclaimed in a firm and loud tone of voice, “Lord have mercy upon us. Pray, good Lord, have mercy upon us. Lord, have mercy upon us. All the people before me, take warning by me!” Having been asked if he had anything further to say, he repeated the same words, and added, “Lord have mercy upon my poor soul.” At the appointed signal, the bolt was withdrawn, and in a minute or two the wretched malefactor ceased to exist. The remainder of his sentence was also carried out, his body being given to the surgeons of Rochester for dissection.
There were not fewer than eight thousand persons present at his execution.
THESEriots, as alarming in their nature as they were distressing and mischievous in their consequences, occurred at Merthyr Tydvil, in South Wales, on the 3rd of June, 1831. The district surrounding Merthyr Tydvil was, at that time, as it is now, densely populated by persons engaged in the iron manufactories, with which that district abounds; and the alleged insufficiency of the wages was the immediate cause of the desperate riot which took place.
The preliminary to this distressing occurrence, it appears, was a turn-out, or strike, among the workmen; and the alarming manner in which these men assembled, and the threats which they held out, produced a well-grounded apprehension that violence might be done both to the persons and the property of the iron-masters. In order to meet any attack which might be made, the magistrates assembled at the Castle Inn, Merthyr Tydvil, for the purpose of devising means to meet and repel the rioters, and the result was that an application for military assistance was determined on.
A detachment of the ninety-third regiment, under the command of Major Folkes, in consequence proceeded into the town, and on the 3rd of June took up their quarters at the Castle Inn, the chief inn in the town, where the magistrates still remained assembled in consultation.
By this time, the mob had already exhibited its riotous and unlawful determination by an attack upon the Court of Requests. This court, it would appear, had become hateful to them, from its being also the place where usually offences affecting the relations of master and servant were adjudicated upon, and they demanded that the books should be given up to them. This was, of course, refused, as indeed they had been already removed to a secure place; upon which the mob commenced a most violent and determined assault upon the building. The residence of Mr. Coffin, the officer of the court, was also an object of their angry demonstrations; and the two places having been stripped of their books and furniture, a fire was immediately made of them in the street, and they were burned. The lawless and ungovernable character of the assemblage may be inferred from the fact, that many of them perished in the flames which they had themselves kindled.
This done, the rioters proceeded at once to the Castle Inn, there to give fresh proofs of their power and determination. At this time they exceeded a thousand in number, and they were loud in their demands that justice should be done them. A deputation was called in to explain their wants, who respectfully but firmly demanded an increase of wages; but the magistrates, having earnestly desired them to return to their work, pointing out to them that it was impossible that they could suffer themselves to be dictated to by a lawless mob, desired them to retire. Upon their return to their partisans they communicated what had taken place, and symptoms were soon observable in the countenances of all which denoted their determination to proceed to measures even more violent than any they had hitherto adopted.
They were addressed by several of the iron-masters present at the inn,both in English and Welsh, but without effect, for they persisted in their demands for further wages, and declared their intention to persevere until their desires were acceded to.
At this time there was a guard of soldiers stationed at the door of the inn, the smallness of whose numbers was remarkably contrasted with the vast assemblage of the workmen. The weakness of the position of the military, in case of an attack, was at once seen, and steps were immediately taken to secure the safety of the post at which they had fixed themselves. For this purpose three men were ordered to each window, in front of the building, to be ready with their muskets, in case of necessity. Renewed efforts to procure the dispersion of the crowd were then made by Mr. Crawshay and Mr. Guest, and a long parley took place. No amicable decision was, however, arrived at, and at length, when it was least expected, a spontaneous rush was made by the people upon the soldiery, who occupied the door-way and its vicinity, whose arms appeared to be the object of the attack. The force in the street was absolutely as nothing against the numbers by whom they were assailed, and orders were given to the soldiers above to fire.
At this period a scene of dreadful conflict was witnessed. The men in the windows advanced one by one to the front to fire, and each man, before he discharged his piece, took deliberate aim at one of the most violent of the mob, whom he seldom failed to bring down. As each man fired, he fell back and re-loaded, so that there was a constant succession of discharges upon the heads of the misguided people in the street. The personal conflict below, in the mean time, was no less dreadful. The first person whom the mob had attempted to seize, was a soldier, whose back was turned to them, and his assailant was a brawny fellow of upwards of six feet in height. The musket was seized from behind, but the soldier, no less active than his antagonist, immediately turned round, still maintaining his hold of his piece, and by a dexterous twist pushed his opponent from him, and received him, on his return, on the point of his bayonet, and he fell dead at his feet. The soldier was at once felled to the ground by a blow from a bludgeon, and his gun was secured by another of the rioters. At the same moment a scene almost precisely similar occurred within two yards of the same spot. A fellow seized hold of a drummer’s sword, but immediately had a bayonet run through his body, and was shot at the same moment. The muskets, meanwhile, were cracking from every window, and the street was raked from one end to the other. Many of the rioters penetrated to the interior of the house, where they committed acts of violence upon the officers of the regiment, and upon the magistrates, many of whom, in their efforts to secure these assailants, received severe contusions. The rioters exhibited a degree of determination which was truly surprising; and the position of those who were in the inn was at one time highly critical. The superior discipline of the soldiery, however, prevailed against their numbers, and at length the neighbourhood was cleared.
Upon a search being now made, it was found that thirteen of the rioters lay dead upon the ground; and the mob were seen carrying off many others, who were believed to be dead or severely wounded. The soldiers themselves did not escape injury; nearly twenty of them were wounded, exclusive of Major Folkes, who had received a serious contusion on the backof the head from a bludgeon. One of the men had had his bayonet taken from him, and was stabbed in his side, while others were bleeding profusely from places where they had received blows or wounds from the people. The bodies which had been found in the street were conveyed to the stables of the inn—many of them only now parting with the last quivering remains of existence—there to wait a coroner’s inquest; while those persons who had been secured, and who were wounded, received immediate surgical assistance.
The danger to the town, however, had not yet altogether ceased. The rioters having succeeded in escaping from its precincts, ascended the neighbouring heights, from whence they continued to fire upon the immediate vicinity of the Castle Inn with much precision. Many of them had procured fowling-pieces; while others employed the muskets which they had taken from the soldiery.
It may readily be supposed that an occurrence like this produced a very great degree of alarm in the vicinity of Merthyr Tydvil; and the assertion that men were hourly swelling the ranks of the insurgents, tended to increase the apprehensions which already existed. The magistrates, with great promptitude, summoned additional military force to their aid; and by night a body of cavalry, infantry, and militia, amounting in number to near five hundred men, was at their disposal. During the whole of the day exaggerated and alarming accounts of the proceedings of the rioters were brought into the town; and the number of rioters assembled in the evening was stated to be nearly eight thousand men, all of whom appeared to be endeavouring to station themselves at Coedycymer. A large body of troops, both cavalry and infantry, was in consequence despatched to Penydarren-house to keep them in awe, and prevent any further acts of mischief in that quarter.
This state of things continued during the whole of that night, but on the ensuing day a circumstance occurred which is worthy of notice, as exhibiting the ferocious intentions of these misguided men. Their head-quarters at this time were at Hirwain; and there two red flags were hoisted, as typical of their bloody determinations. This, however, was not significant enough in their opinion; and they actually procured a basin of calf’s blood, in which the flags were soaked, and with which the standard-bearer’s hands and arms were smeared on his appearing at their head. They were approaching Merthyr Tydvil with this emblem, when, however, they perceived the increased strength of the military, and prudently retired until they should procure fresh numbers.
On Sunday the rioters remained perfectly inactive; but on Monday it had been determined that a general meeting of the working classes should be held on the Wain Hill, near Dowlais, which was to include all the men engaged, not only in the local districts, but in the counties of Brecon and Monmouth, and nearly twenty thousand persons were expected to assemble.
At an early hour men were seen drawing towards that spot in every direction; and at ten o’clock it was announced that there were thousands in the road coming down to Penydarren, armed with bludgeons. The troops, now consisting of one hundred and ten Highlanders, fifty of the Glamorganshire Militia, and three hundred Yeomanry Cavalry, under the command of Colonel Morgan, accompanied by the magistrates, proceeded
Rioters bathing their standard bearer’s hands in blood.Rioters bathing their standard bearer’s hands in blood.
to meet them; and at Dowlais the road was found filled with the dense masses. Mr. Guest ably addressed them, but to no purpose, and the Riot Act was read; still no disposition to disperse was manifested, but a determined resistance was shown and maintained. The Highlanders were at length ordered to level their muskets; but the coolness and forbearance of all parties allowed the words of command to be given so slowly, that the consideration of the consequences intervened between them, and the last word, “Fire!” became unnecessary, to the great satisfaction of all the gentlemen present. The rioters now gave way, and many returned home. Some parted on one side, others on another; but the greater part crossed the hill to the ravine in the Brecon road, where, by regular concert, all the arms were collected under the most determined and hardened of the villains; and they were observed from the tower of Cyfarthfa Castle exercising in line with the sabres and pistols taken from the cavalry, and with the muskets of the Highlanders and their own fowling-pieces. This exercising was observed to continue during the whole morning, and repeated shots were heard fired; and about twelve o’clock a scout who had been sent out brought intelligence, that two black flags were flying in the Brecon road—a symbol of the determination of the men who fought under the banner to conquer or die. Soon after this, a movement was observed among the rioters, as if they would assume an offensive position, and every preparation was made to give them such a reception as would effectually disperse them. Their march was observed, however, to be hesitating and wavering; numbers flung away their arms and returned home; and at length the main body became so disheartened that they fairly took to their heels and disappeared.
During the whole of the remainder of that evening and the next morning, the magistrates and military were exceedingly active in apprehending such men as were suspected or were known to have taken part in these disgraceful proceedings, and fourteen of the worst among them were taken in their beds. On Wednesday night Richard Lewis, who had led the attack upon the Castle Inn, was secured. He was found skulking in a wood by two men, who secured him in a low public-house until they had obtained the aid of the military, and the prisoner was escorted into the town by a body of cavalry. His appearance and demeanour were ferocious in the extreme—in which he differed materially from the other prisoners, of whom there were now near forty, all of whom admitted their fault, and ascribed the lamentable bloodshed which had taken place to their own unjustifiable attack on the military. This expression of feeling on their part was also sufficiently accorded to by the conduct of their fellows at liberty, who, without saying one word against the course which had been taken, buried their dead companions as quickly and as quietly as possible,—a sure proof that their own consciences convicted them of lawless violence. Those who had been wounded, exhibited an equal consciousness of guilt, by abstaining from seeking medical aid, until pain or inflammation rendered such a step absolutely necessary to save their lives.
In the course of the week, the greater proportion of these misguided men who were still at liberty returned to their work; while the cases of those who were in custody were disposed of by the magistrates. Several were committed for trial, who appeared to have acted as ringleaders in this dreadful affair; but the larger number were dealt with summarily, bythe infliction of the penalties of fine or imprisonment, or by their being held to bail, to be of good behaviour. Many of the muskets and sabres which had been carried off were restored; but all exhibited the greatest terror at the guilt in which they had involved themselves, and apprehensive lest they should be placed in the same position of difficulty in which their less fortunate companions were thrown.
At inquests held on the bodies of the rioters who had been killed by the soldiery, the juries returned the invariable verdict of “Justifiable Homicide;” a sufficient assurance to the country that the steps taken by the magistracy had been neither uncalled for, nor too violent.
The trials of the prisoners who had been committed for various offences of which they were alleged to have been guilty during these disturbances came on at the Cardiff summer assizes, held in the month of July.
The following sentences were passed upon those who were convicted:—
Lewis Lewis and Richard Lewis—Death, without a gleam of hope of mercy.
David Hughes, Thomas Vaughan and David Thomas—Death recorded; the judge intimating that the sentence would be commuted to transportation for life.
Eight were sentenced to imprisonment for different periods and hard labour.
Several other persons, committed to Cardiff jail for having participated in the riots, were acquitted.
The charge upon which Richard Lewis was convicted, was that of having, during the scuffle with the military before the Castle Inn, wounded Donald Black, a private in the ninety-third regiment of Highlanders, with a bayonet, in the thigh: the wound in this case was never considered dangerous.
The soldier gave his evidence upon the trial in a very manly and creditable manner, but could not identify the prisoner as the party who had used the bayonet. The only evidence of identity was that of a person who, till the riots, was unacquainted with the prisoner.
The prisoner persisted in a denial of his guilt, and declared that he would do so with his dying breath,
Lewis Lewis (called Lewis the Huntsman, from his having been a huntsman to a gentleman of the name of Llewellen, about eleven years before) was indicted jointly with Hughes, Vaughan, and Thomas, together with three other persons, and charged with having, on the 2nd of June (the day preceding the affray near the Castle Inn), stood upon a chest in the street, opposite the house of a man named Thomas Lewis, and addressed the mob to the following effect:—“I understand that the mob has taken a chest of drawers from a widow woman, who had purchased it for two guineas from the Bailiffs of the Court of Requests, and restored it to another poor widow, from whom it had been taken in execution. Now I don’t think that is fair, unless she has her two guineas back; and if you are of my mind, we will go to Thomas Lewis and get it back. All you that are of my mind, raise up your hands.” Upon this, the mob all raised their hands, and several of them went into Thomas Lewis’s house, and compelled him to deliver up the two guineas which he had received (being the plaintiff in the execution), to one David Williams, the widow’s son. They also compelled Thomas Lewis to give up several other articles.During the whole of this time Lewis Lewis remained in the street. Upon this evidence the Jury found Lewis Lewis, Hughes, Vaughan, and Thomas Guilty, and acquitted the other prisoners.
It appears that the two guineas thus extorted were restored to the prosecutor, Thomas Lewis, about a month before the assizes.
Looking at this offence with all its bearings, there seems a much less degree of moral turpitude in the crime, than that of an ordinary robbery, committed for the sake of plunder. Here the offender sought no plunder, but, from a mistaken sense of right and wrong, did that which he thought justice, by restoring to the widow the money she had paid for the chest of drawers.
At the conclusion of the trials, John Thomas, of Merthyr Tydvil, who was employed during the riots as a peace-officer, and who apprehended the prisoner, when he was committed to jail, was called by the prisoner’s counsel, and was ready to prove, upon oath, that whilst the mob were assembled before the house of Mr. Coffin, at Merthyr Tydvil, some of them attacked him (J. Thomas), and violently beat him, and but for the timely aid of the prisoner, who actually fought in his defence, and in which he was himself severely beaten, he would, in all probability, have been killed.
This evidence, however, was declared inadmissible at the trial, although it was subsequently made the ground of an application for mercy on behalf of the prisoner.
The circumstances attending the conviction of these unhappy men procured for them almost universal commiseration, and petitions, signed by many thousands of persons unconnected with them in any way, were presented to the crown, with a view to obtain for them a mitigation of punishment.
In the cases of Hughes, Vaughan, and Thomas, in obedience to the suggestion of the learned judge, an immediate reprieve was granted, together with a commutation of punishment; and in that of Lewis Lewis, the huntsman, a respite for a week was at the same time allowed. The same favour was almost immediately afterwards accorded to Richard Lewis; but the most painful doubts were entertained as to his ultimate fate.
On Friday, the 5th of August, Lewis Lewis received a reprieve, together with a notification that his punishment was commuted to transportation for fourteen years, (an arrangement which was also at the same time made in the cases of Hughes, Vaughan, and Thomas,) and on the same day a respite for Richard Lewis for a fortnight was transmitted to the sheriff.
This postponement of the fatal day was looked upon by most persons as preparatory only to a commutation of punishment; but this favourable anticipation was contradicted by its being eventually determined that the case of the prisoner did not entitle him to any further consideration.
On the night before the execution, the unhappy convict was urged to make a confession of his guilt, but he positively denied that he had been in any way connected with the transaction in which he was alleged to have been an actor. He continued firm in this declaration up to the time of his death; and Lewis Lewis, who so narrowly escaped the same fate, andwho was his brother, subsequently confirmed the assertion which he had made, and stated that he could have given satisfactory evidence of his brother having been altogether absent from the affray.
The execution took place at Cardiff, on Saturday the 20th of August, 1831.
THIShorrible murder, almost unparalleled in atrocity, was discovered on Saturday the 13th of August, 1831.
It would appear that on Friday the 12th of the month, two men named Maskell and Gillam, who were farm-labourers, were passing through a place called Rottingdean, near Preston, in the neighbourhood of Brighton, when, on their arriving at a particular nook, much frequented on account of its rustic beauty, called the Hole-in-the-Wall, they fancied that they perceived that the earth had been disturbed. They pushed away some of the mould with a stick, and observed a piece of red printed cotton protruding, but at the time they took no particular notice of the occurrence. On their return home, however, to their respective families, they mentioned what they had seen, and Gillam’s wife remarked that it was possible that a child might be buried there,—the offspring of some illicit connexion. The idea was adopted by Gillam, and on the following morning, at six o’clock, accompanied by his wife and some other persons, he again proceeded to the same spot, for the purpose of making a further search and investigation. He enlarged the opening he had made in the ground, and taking hold of the protruding cotton, he drew nearly a yard of it out of the earth, and his wife remarked that she was sure that it was the gown of a grown-up person.
Upon this, it was determined to convey intelligence of the transaction to a constable, and Elphick, the officer of the village of Preston, was summoned to their assistance. On his arrival, he recommended that the search should be further prosecuted, and Gillam procured a spade, for the purpose of digging round the spot. As every spadeful of earth was removed, the suspicions of the persons assembled were more strongly confirmed, and at length, at a distance of about eighteen inches only from the surface, a human thigh was found,—immediately afterwards another thigh was dug up; and then a large bundle, wrapped in a dress made of the same description of cotton as that first seen, was produced. The horror-stricken crowd which by this time had assembled was scarcely surprised, on this bundle being opened, to find that it contained the trunk of a human body; but they were still further alarmed at perceiving that the head and arms were wanting. The body was still clothed in the stays, chemise, and petticoats; and the gown, which had first attracted attention, appeared to have been loosely wrapped over it, and an effort had been made to tie it round with a cord, which presented the appearance of a petticoat-string.
The fact of this dreadful discovery spread like wildfire through the neighbouring village, and soon found its way to Brighton; and crowds of persons thronged to the spot, induced as well by feelings of curiosity,as a desire to ascertain whether they were able to identify the remains as those of any person who might be known to them. Amongst others who were thus impelled to the spot, was a Mrs. Bishop, the wife of a labourer at Brighton, who speedily declared her belief that the body was that of her sister; and the comparison of the gown with a piece of cotton sewn into her patch-work quilt, which had been given to her by her sister, and with which it corresponded in pattern in every particular, convinced her that she was not mistaken in her belief.
An investigation was now immediately set on foot with a view to the discovery of the means by which the body had been placed in the position in which it had been found, which resulted in a conviction that the husband of the deceased, John Holloway, a labourer employed on the Chain Pier at Brighton, had murdered her, and had thus disposed of her remains, in order to conceal the circumstance of her death. From the inquiries which were made, it was elicited that the unhappy deceased was a native of Ardingley in Sussex, and at an early period of her life had quitted her native village for the purpose of procuring service. At the age of twenty-five she filled a situation as household servant in a public-house at Brighton, and there unfortunately she formed an acquaintance with Holloway, then only nineteen years of age, which terminated in an illicit connexion and her pregnancy. While in this condition, the unfortunate young woman was compelled to quit her situation, and, being driven to a state of destitution and want, she applied to the parish-officers for relief. The result of her application was, that Holloway was taken into custody upon a bastardy warrant, and, at the instigation of the parish-officers, was compelled to marry Celia Bashford, the unfortunate object of his seduction. Holloway, it appears, was the son of a driver in the Royal Engineers, and had exhibited considerable waywardness of disposition in his youth. He had successively filled the occupations of a butcher’s boy, a baker’s boy, and a bricklayer’s labourer; and now, upon his marriage, he enlisted in the Blockade Service. A union founded upon such a connexion was not likely to produce much happiness to either of the contracting parties; and the difference of age and habits tended still further to produce an estrangement between Holloway and his wife. During the six years which intervened between the marriage and the death of the unfortunate woman, they scarcely lived together for two consecutive months; and at length Holloway, having quitted the Preventive Service in the year 1829, obtained employment on the Chain Pier, which was then in the course of construction, and took a woman named Ann Kennard to live with him as his wife, Celia Holloway then residing with her friends. Shortly after this, Holloway was again taken into custody by the parish-officers, in consequence of his leaving his wife chargeable upon the poor-rates; and at this time an order was made by the magistrates, that he should make a weekly allowance to her of 2s.Kennard, it appears, was usually employed to convey this pittance to Mrs. Holloway, and frequent quarrels took place between them; but Holloway also occasionally visited his wife, and she once or twice staid with him for a few days, during Kennard’s absence. This state of things continued until about five weeks before the discovery of the murder, at which time Mrs. Holloway was living with a Mrs. Symonds, at No. 4, Cavendish-place North, Brighton, expecting in about a month to be put to bed of her third child by her husband, those which had before been born being bothdead. The unhappy woman had made the usual preparations on such occasions, and Mrs. Symonds and her daughter had assisted her in making and washing such baby-linen as she would require.
Holloway at this time commenced his diabolical scheme for her murder. Calling upon her, he expressed a wish that their former animosities should be forgotten, and that they should again live together as they had done when they were first married. The foolish woman, who had throughout expressed and exhibited the fondest affection for him, listened to his proposals, and it was arranged that he should fetch her on a certain day, to conduct her to lodgings which he had taken for her, the locality of which, however, he did not describe. On Thursday the 14th of July, Holloway called for his wife at Mrs. Symonds’; but he first took away her boxes, in which she had previously packed her own clothes and her baby-linen. Mrs. Holloway expressed some apprehension that he would not go back; but he kept his promise, and returned for her in about an hour, and took her away, attired in a gown similar in pattern to that in which her body was subsequently found wrapped. From this time she was never again seen alive. We have already stated, that it was on the 13th of August that the body of Mrs. Holloway, and the circumstance of the murder, were discovered. We shall now proceed to detail the occurrences which subsequently took place.
No sooner were the mutilated remains of the unfortunate deceased dug from the ground, than an instant search was set on foot by those present, with a view to the discovery of the remaining members of her body. This, however, proved unavailing; but in a ditch close by, and in an adjoining field, some portions of a box were found, bearing the marks of bloody fingers, and also of coagulated blood, which appeared to have oozed upon its inner surface. These portions of the box, like the gown, were soon recognised as having belonged to Mrs. Holloway, and steps were in consequence at once taken to secure her husband and his paramour, Mrs. Kennard. The latter was first found, residing at a house No. 23, High-street, Brighton, and was immediately taken into custody; and Holloway, on the same evening, learning that inquiries had been made for him, surrendered himself into custody.
In the mean time, the remains of the deceased woman had been conveyed to the barn of a farm at Preston, there to await a coroner’s inquest, and surgical assistance had been called in, in order that a minute examination of the body might be made. Mr. Hargreave and Mr. Richardson, surgeons of Brighton, were selected to perform this duty, and their evidence was taken at the inquest which was held on the following day (Sunday) at the Crown and Anchor, Preston. They stated, that the body was in a state of considerable decomposition, and that they were unable to ascertain, from any appearances which it presented, what had been the cause of death. The legs, arms, and head appeared to have been removed from the body with considerable nicety and skill; and, from the aspect of the points at which the severance had been made, they were inclined to believe that a butcher or a surgeon had performed the operation. They were not cut off as if a saw had been employed to divide the bone, but they had been cut from the sockets of the various bones with great precision. They had subsequently made an internal examination of the body of the deceased, and, from the appearances which they observed, they believed thatthe deceased had arrived at a period of her pregnancy within a short time of its completion. They were inclined to believe that parturition had actually commenced, brought on no doubt by alarm or over exertion, when the death of the mother terminated the life of the child. The head of the deceased woman, it was added, was taken off at the sixth cervical vertebra.
This evidence, together with proof of the circumstance of the deceased having quitted her lodgings in the manner which we have described, wearing the gown in which her body was found wrapped, and carrying the box, the fragments of which had been discovered, and of Holloway’s frequent expressions of ill-will towards her, constituted the whole of the testimony produced before the coroner’s jury; and upon that a verdict of “Wilful Murder against John Holloway” was returned, and he was committed to Horsham jail to await his trial at the Assizes.
The woman Mrs. Kennard, however, as we have already stated, had been taken into custody; and it became the duty of the magistrates to proceed further with the investigation of the circumstances of this atrocious case affecting her. She was brought up before the Brighton bench of magistrates on the Monday, for the purpose of being examined; but before any evidence was adduced, she begged to be allowed to make a statement. She then said that she had been married to the prisoner Holloway under the name of Goldsmith, (his mother’s maiden name,) on the 16th of March, 1830, at Rye; and she assured the magistrates of her perfect innocence of all participation in the crime charged against her. The evidence which had been taken before the coroner was then again produced; and other witnesses were called, whose testimony more particularly affected the prisoner. These persons deposed, that for about three months before the period at which the murder was supposed to have been committed, Mr. and Mrs. Goldsmith (as the prisoner and Holloway were called) lodged at the house, No. 7, Margaret-street, Brighton. About the time of the murder, from Thursday the 14th to Sunday the 17th of July, they were observed to be rather irregular, and Holloway, on the Saturday night, was out until a very late hour. On the Friday the prisoner called at the house of Mrs. Leaver, a neighbour, and requested that she would lend her a wheelbarrow, but this request was not granted until the following day, in consequence of the absence of the husband of the woman from home. On the Saturday, however, Holloway went for the barrow himself; and on the same night, after Mrs. Leaver had retired to bed, and at a late hour, she heard it return to the yard at the back of her house. Subsequently to the apprehension of the prisoner, an examination of the apartment which she and Holloway had occupied in High-street was made, and many articles, recognized by Mrs. Symonds as having belonged to the deceased, were found concealed behind the drawers; while the landlady of the house, Mrs. Thomas, stated that she had purchased various articles of baby-linen from the prisoner, which were also identified as those which had been prepared by the murdered woman.
This was the whole of the evidence which was produced upon this examination; but on the next day a discovery was made of a most important character to the case. The high constable of Brighton had displayed the most unremitting anxiety in his exertions to discover the head and arms of the deceased woman. Every inch of the ground in the neighbourhoodof Rottingdean had been minutely examined, under the apprehension that they might be concealed there, but without effect; and on Tuesday night, Mr. Folkard, as a last resource, directed that the privies of the houses in Margaret-street should be searched. The men had proceeded in their investigation for several hours; but when almost all hope was destroyed, they declared that they found their progress impeded by a solid substance, which turned out to be a human leg with the stocking on. This discovery was immediately succeeded by the production of the other leg similarly clothed; of the two arms, covered with the remains of the gown found at Rottingdean on the body, and lastly of a bed-tick containing the head of the unfortunate woman, from which almost all the hair had been removed.
This new and important feature in the case was immediately communicated to the magistrates, by whose directions Messrs. Hargreave and Richardson proceeded to examine the newly-discovered remains; and the result of their inquiry was an expression of the certainty of their being portions of the same frame with the body which had been found near Preston.
The police during the week used every possible exertion to procure fresh evidence, and many new and important disclosures were made; but, on the following Saturday, all doubts which might have been entertained of the guilt of Holloway were set at rest, by his confession of his having committed the murder. It had been already discovered that, a few days before the murder, he had taken a house, No. 11, North Steyne-row, or, as it was more familiarly called, Donkey-row, in which it was supposed the murder had been committed; and the statement which he now made of his guilt confirmed the suspicions which had been entertained. He informed the magistrates, in whose presence he detailed the circumstances of his crime, that he had long contemplated depriving his wife of life; but for three months had been unable to induce her to accompany him out at night. At last he persuaded her that he had taken lodgings, at which they were again to live together; and having first removed her box and bedding, conducted her to a little house in Donkey-row. Having arrived at the intended scene of slaughter, he shut the door, and knocked her down; she resisted with all her strength, but he threw himself upon her, and succeeded in strangling her. She screamed out, but he stifled her cries; and finding her cease to struggle, he took out his pocket-knife, and cut her throat in two places, so as to make his bloody scheme more secure. He then considered how he should dispose of the body, and determined upon removing it piecemeal. With this view he separated her head from her body, and afterwards divided her, limb from limb, at the joints. The head, arms, and legs he disposed of in the privy, where they were found; and the trunk and thighs he resolved to inter in Lover’s-walk, a retired place which he had before marked. For this purpose he emptied her clothes from her box, and in their room deposited the dreadful and, as it turned out, the first evidence of his enormous guilt. This box he conveyed in a barrow to the place already described, where he dug a hole, and, as he thought, effectually disguised every sign of his atrocious cruelty. Fortunately, he omitted completely to cover the whole of the gown in which the trunk was tied up; and thus his guilt was discovered. The box he broke to pieces, and scattered about. In conclusion, he expressedan anxious wish that Kennard should suffer no punishment for her supposed implication in a crime of which, he declared, she was wholly innocent.
A gentleman who was present at the confession, describes the scene in the following terms:—“I may truly say, that of all the awful and distressing scenes I ever witnessed (and it has been my lot to witness many), the confession of this wretched man far exceeded them. That he began his statement with an air of calmness it is true, but it was what no one who looked on him could mistake for that of indifference. Such, indeed, as it was, it continued only through the relation of his first acquaintance with the murdered woman, his subsequent marriage to her, and his quarrels with her friends. When his remarks approached the scene of the murder, his firmness altogether deserted him; long, long was it before he could pronounce the dreadful words which recorded his guilt; and, in the meantime, his cries, yea, almost his shrieks, for the mercy of God upon his soul, were most horrible, most appalling. One of the magistrates was so overcome as to be obliged to leave the room; and if the prisoner had not been supplied with a glass of water, he would, apparently, have fainted. We have read of the agonies of the rack, but who shall describe the agonies of remorse? I witnessed them then, and never, never shall I forget them—those agonies which, I may literally say, amidst weeping and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, drove the wretched culprit to sign his own death-warrant, by unburdening a conscience which would not let him rest day or night.”
On Monday, 22nd of August, Mrs. Kennard was again examined before the magistrates. The discovery of the head, &c. was then proved in evidence, and some witnesses were called with a view of showing the prisoner’s implication in the transaction of their concealment. These persons stated that, at about the time of the murder, they saw Holloway going to his house in Margaret-street, carrying a large bundle in a sack, and followed by the prisoner, who appeared to be anxiously watching the load; and that, at about the same time, but on another occasion, they had also seen them together, Holloway carrying a small tick bag, similar to that which had been found in the privy. Other persons proved that Holloway had rented the house in Donkey-row at 2s.6d.per week, and that Mrs. Kennard had been seen there with him; while a witness, named Mary Marchant, who lived in the house next to that occupied by Holloway in that Row, gave very remarkable testimony. She proved that, on the night in which Holloway first went to the house, she heard some one, after she had been in bed for some time, cough and groan in an extraordinary manner. She remarked the circumstance to her husband, who also heard the noise, and observed, “That poor woman must be very ill.” They, however, heard no more. On the next day the shutters of the house were not taken down; but on Saturday she observed Holloway and the prisoner go away from the house with a wheel-barrow, containing a box made of wood, similar to the pieces which had been found near Rottingdean.
The prisoner betrayed much anxiety while this witness was being examined; and, notwithstanding the repeated advice of the magistrate to be silent, she persisted in making a statement which surprised every one who heard it. She declared, in the most solemn manner, that she was not with the prisoner on the Thursday night (the night when the deceased wasinveigled from her lodgings) or on the Saturday night (the time when it was supposed Holloway and the prisoner removed the body to Preston from Donkey-row, in a box upon a wheel-barrow), for she was quite positive she never stirred from her lodgings at Mr. Leaver’s, in Margaret-street, on those nights. She remembered (she said) that Holloway went out with the barrow which he had borrowed, and he came home to her, before ten o’clock, and said he was going a smuggling. He asked her to let him have her gown, shawl, and bonnet, to disguise himself; and after endeavouring to prevail upon him not to do that which was so dangerous, she let him have the things. She then went to bed, as she had no others to wear. He was out till twelve o’clock that night, and at six o’clock the next morning she found the gown, shawl, and bonnet, in the room below.
Other witnesses were examined, whose testimony was not very material, except as corroboratory of that which had been already received; but a pawnbroker produced a shawl, which had been pledged with him for 1s.6d.on the 15th of July, by the prisoner, who gave her own name and address, and which was identified as having been worn by the deceased on the day of her quitting Mrs. Symonds’s house.
This was all the evidence produced on this day; but on the following Thursday a new discovery was made, which also excited considerable observation. On the day in question a workman named Allen, who was employed in an unfinished house in Trafalgar-street, on proceeding to his work, found that a chemise, deeply stained with blood, had been thrown into the building since he had left work on the preceding night. The shift, on being examined, was found to bear clear and distinct marks of blood having flowed down its centre from the top nearly to the bottom, but there it appeared to have met with some obstruction, and, diverging to the right and left, it had stained a spot on each side nearly six inches wide, and had then again met below, but had then ceased to flow any further. The garment was exhibited to Mrs. Symonds, who had no hesitation in declaring her positive conviction that it had belonged to the deceased; and the impossibility of either of the prisoners having thrown it in the place where it was found, tended to a conclusion that other persons had been engaged with them in the murder.
In consequence of the suspicions raised by this circumstance, two men, named White, (aliasJenkins), and Thomas Carver, were taken into custody. They were proved to have occupied the house in Donkey-row after Holloway had left it, but no other circumstance could be elicited against them. They, however, with Mrs. Kennard, were remanded for farther examination.
At the next inquiry before the magistrates, only one new fact was produced in evidence against the female prisoner, which was highly important, as it traced her to the vicinity of Lover’s-walk on the night on which the body was buried, and she was committed for trial; but the other prisoners, White and Carver, were discharged.
In the course of the time which intervened between her committal and the trial, Holloway made a new confession, going more into detail upon the subject of the circumstances of the murder. As some of the facts stated by him affected his fellow-prisoner, it was deemed advisable that she should be present while he made his statement. The following comprises the main details contained in this declaration:—
When, at four o’clock in the afternoon of Thursday, the 14th of July, Holloway took his wife from her lodgings, they went straight to the house, No. 11, Donkey-row, which he had hired expressly for the commission of the murder; and to which he had, just before, taken her things. On Holloway opening the street-door, his wife first entered, and was going up stairs (which were immediately opposite to, and very near the door), when he called out to her to stop a moment, on which she sat down upon one of the stairs a little way up. She was in this situation when, without fastening the door, he approached her, as though he was going to kiss her, and, suddenly tying a cord about her neck, threw himself upon her body, and exerted all his force to strangle her. The poor creature, in resisting, fell to the bottom of the stairs, where she continued struggling; Holloway, with an end of the cord in each hand, stretching it, with fiend-like energy, to extinguish life. Feeling unequal to, or wishing to make a quicker work of the murderous task, he demanded aid. It was then that the resistance of the victim was speedily overcome, and her destruction, together with that of the infant in her womb, was effectually accomplished!
The only blood which came from the deceased before her death, was from her nose; it fell upon the stairs, and Holloway scraped part of it away with a knife.
After having committed the murder, the next question was, what was to be done with the body? Holloway’s first idea was, to cut it up at once, and then remove it piecemeal. This design was, however, postponed, to allow the blood to congeal! He then dragged the body by the cord, with which he had effected the strangulation, to a closet beneath the stairs, where he hung it on a nail for the night. [The high constable subsequently examined the closet, and discovered the nail and several stains of blood.] And the clothes of the deceased—which had been sorted before her arrival, the articles fit for the pawnbroker’s shop being separated from those which were not—were carried home, the same evening, to his lodgings.
The next day Holloway went to the house, and, having taken down the body and laid it on the floor, cut off the head (the blood appearing like a jelly), then the legs, and afterwards (for the convenience of packing the trunk in the box) the arms and thighs. He then emptied the chaff out of the ticking, and put the head, arms, and legs, into it, so that it formed a bag. It was then arranged that he should go first with his bag to the privy in Margaret-street, Kennard following, to see if any blood oozed out. The first attempt, he said, failed. They returned to Donkey-row, and put the head and limbs into a small box, and then into the ticking, and he carried them away, Kennard following him.
Holloway said, that when he took away the box containing the trunk and thighs on the Saturday night, Kennard followed the barrow with a pick-axe and shovel, done up as a parcel, under her arm. On reaching the Hare and Hounds, they turned to the left, leading to New England Farm, and went across the field to the copse, on arriving at which it was so dark that he could not see to dig the grave; so that they hid the box, and the pick-axe and shovel, in the bushes, and returned home with the empty barrow. By daylight on the following morning (the Sabbath day!) they were again at the spot. He had great difficulty in penetrating the earth, by reason of the roots of trees, which spread beneath the surface in all directions. Time rapidly advanced, and he had made but little progress.After an hour’s labour, he had not dug a hole half large enough to admit the box. He threw down the implements in despair, uncorded the box, took out the body and the thighs, and deposited them in the ground the best way he could. He broke the box into pieces, concealing them in different places near the spot; and, with Kennard, got back to his lodgings before anybody was stirring.
Holloway, while making his confession, was frequently interrupted by Kennard. Whenever he introduced her name at critical periods of the dreadful tale, she threw herself into paroxyms of rage, and loaded him with execrations. “The Devil’s at your elbow;” “The Devil’s in your eyes;” were expressions which she frequently used. Her violence did not incense Holloway, who looked upon her only with an eye of pity. There was a seriousness of manner and of tone in the man, which, united with the fearful import of his language, inspired those present (Kennard alone excepted) with feelings bordering on awe. It was a scene in real life, compared with which, the most finished dramatic exhibition would sink into insipidity.
During the subsequent period of his confinement, previously to his trial, Holloway conducted himself in jail with a degree of hardihood and even ferocity, which was surprising, after the confessions which he had made. He endeavoured to excite some of his fellow-prisoners to murder the governor of the jail, in order that they might effect their escape, and otherwise behaved in a most outrageous manner.
At his trial, which took place at Lewes, on Wednesday, the 14th of December, 1831, he was even more remarkable for the brutality of his demeanour, than he had been during his imprisonment. Upon his being arraigned, his manner was such as to be fully in accordance with the atrocious nature of his crime. The court was excessively crowded, and upon the names of the prisoners being called by the Clerk of the Arraigns, a thrill of horror ran through the assembled crowd, which was audibly expressed, in a murmur which gave much solemnity to the scene. Kennard, upon her name being called, burst into tears and fainted; but Holloway stood boldly forward, and seemed to beard the court with a look of defiance.
Upon the indictment being read, Holloway appeared confounded by the verbose and technical forms of expression. He at length exclaimed, “Read all that again, I don’t understand a word of it.”
The indictment was again read. At another point he exclaimed, with evident surprise, “What! does that mean me?”
On the prisoner being asked whether he was “Guilty?” he fiercely exclaimed, “I am not guilty of all that that paper charges me with.”
By the Court: Do you plead “Guilty,” or “Not guilty?”
Holloway (with the utmost ferocity): “By the laws of my country I am not guilty till you can prove me so.”
By the Court: Well, you plead “Not guilty.” Remove the prisoners from the bar.
The female Kennard was almost lifted from the bar. She seemed unable to stand. Holloway again looked ferociously round the court, and retired with a firm bold step.
Upon the prisoners being again brought up, their demeanour was scarcely altered. Mr. Justice Patteson presided on the bench.
Mr. Long and Mr. Dowling conducted the case for the prosecution, and the trial then proceeded. The whole of the evidence having been gone through, the learned judge expressed an opinion, that the female prisoner was not sufficiently affected to be liable as a principal, and she was directed to be acquitted, and the confession of Holloway was then put in and read, in the following terms. Such portions of it as affected Kennard could not, of course, be received as evidence against her:—
“Anne Kennard knew nothing of this circumstance going to happen until I had got the whole of Celia’s clothes in that house. I went home and had her down to the house, and then I acquainted her with what I was going to do; she said I had better not do it for fear of being discovered; I told her I would trust to that if she would assist me; she said ‘Yes, she would,’ and then, as I had got the clothes, we knew not at first hardly how to dispose of them. I said we would pledge some and burn what would not pledge, and we immediately lotted out what would pledge, and Kennard took them, and I believe pledged them, and I then went and fetched Celia. Celia came with me to the south end of North Steyne-row; I left Celia there, and told her to wait till I came for her, or called her. I went into this house in North Steyne-row. I told Anne she was just by there, and it was agreed that she should conceal herself in the cupboard. She did conceal herself in the cupboard; I then went and called Celia; when she was in the house I shut the door; I told her I wanted to wait a little while, because my partner lived up stairs, and he was in bed, and I must wait until he got up; and with that pretence I kept her in conversation for some time, and at last I asked her to sit down on the stairs, and then, on a pretence of kissing her, I passed a line round her neck and strangled her. As soon as I passed the line round her neck, I found it was rather more than I could manage myself, and I called Anne, and God knows she assisted me, by taking hold of each end of the rope with me, and she held the rope with me until the poor girl dropped, and then I held the cord for a time myself; and Anne made use of this expression—‘Do not let your heart fail you.’ When I thought she was dead, or nearly dead, I dragged her into a cupboard or coal-hole under the stairs, and under the stairs there is some nails. I did not remove the cord, but took an over-handed knot, and I made the ends fast to the nails, so that she was then hanging by the neck; I proposed then cutting her. Anne Kennard told me to wait until the blood was settled; then, I believe, the next thing we did was to burn the things, the bonnets particularly; the people who went into the house after we left must have seen the wire in the grate, which I took notice of being there, either that or the next night, I cannot call to mind which, that we proceeded to cut the body. I emptied the chaff out of the bed, to have the tick to carry part of the body away in, and then I cut off the head first, and I think the arms I carried with the head. Anne Kennard was present; I never went to the house to do anything with the body, but what I took Anne Kennard with me, and the day that I brought the head and the other part away, she was to walk behind me to see if any blood came through; the first attempt we made would not answer, because the blood came through the tick. Anne told me of it, and we went back and put it into a little box, and then into the tick; that night after dark Anne came down with me, and we brought a small tub with us; I went and got a light, and then some water in the tub, and after we had placed the body in the box, Annewashed the kitchen to clear it of the blood, and the next day I borrowed a wheel-barrow, and took it down to the house, and then I borrowed a pick and shovel, and that night Anne and me went down to the house, and we took the box the body was in (I did) on the wheel-barrow. I wheeled the barrow, and Anne Kennard was to follow me with a pick and shovel. She did not know where I was going to. She kept at a small distance from me until we got near the Hare and Hounds. We turned up the hill and then down the footpath, that leads to where the body was found. I made an attempt to dig a hole that night, but I found it too dark; we just put the box under some bushes near the spot, and also the pick-axe and shovel; Anne Kennard was with me all the time. We then took the wheelbarrow home. We went down again in the morning as soon as it was light, and I dug a hole with an intent to bury the box and all; but I found that would take up too much of my time, because of the roots of the trees. I took the body out, and threw it into the hole. I healed the body up, and then broke the box up, and hid away the pick and shovel, and Anne Kennard and me went and fetched them away the next night; I had been round once since the body had been buried, to see if everything was right, and I sent Anne Kennard twice, and she told me she went; I think the people where we lodged must well remember she went away with me when I went away with the wheel-barrow. She did not go the same road as I did; she went one road, and I went another; and I think the people must remember Anne went out early the next morning; we both went out early, but returned early, before the people, Leavers, were up. A man of the name of Watts, in North Steyne-row, must remember Anne Kennard being there several times with me, and one time in particular, when we were going away, and Anne had then got a bundle of some kind to take away from the house; and a woman that was talking to either Master Watts or his wife abused me very much, told me that was not my wife that I was with, and said that she had got a bundle then to pawn (meaning the bundle she had got with her). I forget the person’s name that I spoke of, but her husband is a bricklayer. I declare I do not disclose this out of any envy or malice, and I have done the best I could ever since I have been confined to conceal it, but I find it impossible; I simply do it to convince the world at large who are the guilty and who are the innocent. I likewise declare before God and you, gentlemen, that I feel, if it was my own father, it is out of my own power to conceal it.
(Signed)