Chapter 4

NowJerry must needs be a swell,His coat must have a swallow-tail,And Mr. Snip, so handy, O,Soon rigg’d him out a Dandy, O.

CUT II.—Tom and Jerry among the Ladies.

Ladies, your most humble servants,Tom and Jerry stand before you.Our blood is thrilling, you’re so killing;At once we love you and adore you.

CUT III.—Jerry Loses at Play.

AtSt. James’s they dine, when, flushed with new wine,To the Gaming Tables they reel,Where blacklegs and sharps, often gammon the flats,As their pockets do presently feel.

CUT IV.—Jerry Learning to Spar.

NowJerry’s become a Fancy blade,To Jackson’s he often goes,And to shew his skill in the milling trade,He crack’d poor Logick’s nose.

CUT V.—Tom and Jerry at a Fortune-Teller’s.

Herelives a Fortune-Telling Gipsy,Wrinkled, crabbed, grim and old;And Tom and Jerry’s fancy ladiesAre gone to get their Fortunes told.

CUT VI.—Beggar’s Opera. Tom, Jerry, and Logick among the Cadgers in the Holy Land.

Nowto keep up the spree, Tom, Jerry and Logick,Went disguis’d to the Slums in the Holy Land;Through each crib and each court, they hunted for sport,Till they came to theBeggar’s Operaso named.

CUT VII.—Night Scene.—Tom and Jerry upsetting the Charleys.

Hark!the watchman springs his rattle,Now the midnight lark’s begun;Boxes crashing, lanthorns smashing,Mill the Charleys—oh! what fun.

CUT VIII.—Brought before the Magistrates.

An’please your Worship here’s three fellowsBeen hammering of us all about;Broke our boxes, lanthorns, smellers,And almost clos’d our peepers up.

CUT IX.—Tom, Jerry, and Logick in a Row.

Mercy!what a din and clatterBreaks the stillness of the night,Lamps do rattle—’tis a battle,Quick, and let us see the sight.

CUT X.—Scene in a Gin-shop.

Heresome are tumbling and jumping in,And some are staggering out;One’s pawn’d her smock for a quartern of gin,Another, her husband’s coat.

CUT XI.—Poor Logick in the Fleet.

Allin the Fleet poor Logick’s moor’dHis swaggering’s now at an end!

CUT XII.—Jerry Going Back to the Country.

Threemerry boys were Logick, Tom and Jerry,And many funny larks they have seen;Farewell, gay London, the country calls me home again,The coach moves on—the play is done—Goodbye, Goodbye.Quod.JAS. C-N-H, March 23, 1822.

How delightful Pierce Egan’s book was to the youths of England, and how eagerly all its promised feasts of pleasure were devoured by them, Thackeray has told us in his “Roundabout Papers—De Juventute” in the “Cornhill Magazine” for October, 1860.

Mr., afterwards Sir William Cubitt, of Ipswich, erected a treadmill at Brixton Gaol, and soon afterwards in other large prisons. A street ballad on the subject was issued from the “Catnach Press” and had a most unprecedented sale, keeping the pressmen and boys working for weeks—

“And we’re all treading at fam’d Brixton Mill.”

The treadmill—that “terror to evil doers”—excited much attention, and the inventor’s name gave rise to many jokes on the subject among such of the prisoners as could laugh at their own crimes, who said they were punished by thecubit!.

The Treadmill.

ThisBrixton Mill’s a fearful ill,And he who brought the Bill in,Is threat’n’d by thecribbingcoves,That he shall have amilling.They say he shew’d a simple pate,To think of felons mending;As everystepwhich here they takeThey’re still in crimeascending.Tom, Jerry, Logic, three prime sprigs,Find here they cannotcomeit,For though theirfancysoars aloft,They ne’er will reach thesummit.Corinthian Kate and buxom SueMust change theirwarmdirection,For if they make onefalse stepmoreThey’ll haveCold Bath Correction.

“The gallows does well: But how does it well? it does well to those that do ill.”—Hamlet, Act v., sc. i.

There can be little doubt that Jemmy Catnach, the great publisher of the Seven Dials, had his mind mostly centred upon the chronicling of doubtful scandals, fabulous duels between ladies of fashion, “cooked” assassinations, and sudden deaths of eminent individuals, apochryphal elopements, real or catch-penny account of murders, impossible robberies, delusive suicides, dark deeds, and—though last, not least, inhislove—public executions,vulgo“Hanging Matches,” to which was usually attached the all-important and necessary “Sorrowful Lamentations,” or “Copy of Affectionate Verses,” which according to the established custom, the criminal composed in the condemned cell the night before his execution, after this manner:—

The Flying Stationer, otherwise Patterer.

“All you that have got feeling, I pray you now attendTo these few lines so sad and true, a solemn silence lend;It is of a cruel murder, to you I will unfold——The bare recital of the tale must make your blood run cold.”“Mercy on earth I’ll not implore, to crave it would be vain,My hands are dyed with human gore, none can wash off the stain,But the merits of a Saviour, whose mercy alone I crave;Good Christians pray, as thus I die, I may His pardon have.”

A mournful and affectingCOPY OF VERSESon the death ofANN WILLIAMS,Who was barbarously and cruelly murdered by her sweetheart,W. JONES, near Wirksworth, in Derbyshire, July, 1823.William Jones, a young man aged 20, has been fully committed to Derby gaol for the murder of his sweetheart, under circumstances of unheard of barbarity. The poor victim was a servant girl, whom under pretence of marriage he seduced. On her proving with child the villain formed the horrid design of murdering her, and carried his diabolical plan into execution on Monday evening last. The following verses are written upon the occasion, giving a complete detail of this shocking affair:—Come all false hearted young menAnd listen to my song,’Tis of a cruel murder,That lately has been doneOn the body of a maiden fairThe truth I will unfold,The bare relation of this deedWill make your blood run cold.Near Wirksworth town in Derbyshire,Ann Williams she did dwell,In service she long time had lived,Till this to her befel.Her cheeks were like the blushing roseAll in the month of May,Which made this wicked young manThus unto her did say:Nancy, my charming creature,You have my heart ensnared,My love is such I am resolvedTo wed you I declare.Thus by his false deluding tonguePoor Nancy was beguil’d,And soon to her misfortune,By him she proved with child.Some days ago this damsel fairDid write to him with speed,Such tenderness she did expressWould make a heart to bleed.She said, my dearest William,I am with child by thee;Therefore, my dear, pray let me knowWhen you will marry me.The following day at evening,This young man did repair,Unto the town of Wirksworth,To meet his Nancy there.Saying, Nancy dear, come let us walk,Among the flowery fields,And then the secrets of my heartTo you I will reveal.O then this wicked young manA knife he did provide,And all unknown to his true loveConcealed it by his side.When to the fatal spot they came,These words to her did say:All on this very night I willYour precious life betray.On bended knees she then did fall,In sorrow and despair,Aloud for mercy she did call,Her cries did rend the air;With clasped hands and uplift eyesShe cried, Oh spare my life,I never more will ask youTo make me your wedded wife.O then this wicked young man said,No mercy will I show;He took the knife all from his side,And pierced her body through.But still she smiling said to himWhile trembling with fear,Aä! William, William, spare my life,Think on your baby dear.Twice more then with the bloody knifeHe ran her body through,Her throat was cut from ear to ear,Most dreadful for to view;Her hands and arms and beauteous faceHe cut and mangled sore,While down upon her milk white breastThe crimson blood did pour.He took the shawl from off her neck,And round her body tied,With pebble stones he did it fill,Thinking the crime to hide.O then into the silver streamHe plunged her straightway,But with her precious blood was stainedWhich soon did him betray.O then this young man taken was,And into prison sent,In ratling chains he is confin’dHis crime for to lament,Until the Assizes do come onWhen trembling he must stand,Reflecting on the deed he’s done;Waiting the dread command.Now all you thoughtless young menA timely warning take;Likewise ye fair young maidens,For this poor damsel’s sake.And Oh beware of flattering tongues,For they’ll your ruin prove;So may you crown your future day,In comfort, joy, and love.

A mournful and affectingCOPY OF VERSESon the death ofANN WILLIAMS,Who was barbarously and cruelly murdered by her sweetheart,W. JONES, near Wirksworth, in Derbyshire, July, 1823.

William Jones, a young man aged 20, has been fully committed to Derby gaol for the murder of his sweetheart, under circumstances of unheard of barbarity. The poor victim was a servant girl, whom under pretence of marriage he seduced. On her proving with child the villain formed the horrid design of murdering her, and carried his diabolical plan into execution on Monday evening last. The following verses are written upon the occasion, giving a complete detail of this shocking affair:—

Come all false hearted young menAnd listen to my song,’Tis of a cruel murder,That lately has been doneOn the body of a maiden fairThe truth I will unfold,The bare relation of this deedWill make your blood run cold.Near Wirksworth town in Derbyshire,Ann Williams she did dwell,In service she long time had lived,Till this to her befel.Her cheeks were like the blushing roseAll in the month of May,Which made this wicked young manThus unto her did say:Nancy, my charming creature,You have my heart ensnared,My love is such I am resolvedTo wed you I declare.Thus by his false deluding tonguePoor Nancy was beguil’d,And soon to her misfortune,By him she proved with child.Some days ago this damsel fairDid write to him with speed,Such tenderness she did expressWould make a heart to bleed.She said, my dearest William,I am with child by thee;Therefore, my dear, pray let me knowWhen you will marry me.The following day at evening,This young man did repair,Unto the town of Wirksworth,To meet his Nancy there.Saying, Nancy dear, come let us walk,Among the flowery fields,And then the secrets of my heartTo you I will reveal.O then this wicked young manA knife he did provide,And all unknown to his true loveConcealed it by his side.When to the fatal spot they came,These words to her did say:All on this very night I willYour precious life betray.On bended knees she then did fall,In sorrow and despair,Aloud for mercy she did call,Her cries did rend the air;With clasped hands and uplift eyesShe cried, Oh spare my life,I never more will ask youTo make me your wedded wife.O then this wicked young man said,No mercy will I show;He took the knife all from his side,And pierced her body through.But still she smiling said to himWhile trembling with fear,Aä! William, William, spare my life,Think on your baby dear.Twice more then with the bloody knifeHe ran her body through,Her throat was cut from ear to ear,Most dreadful for to view;Her hands and arms and beauteous faceHe cut and mangled sore,While down upon her milk white breastThe crimson blood did pour.He took the shawl from off her neck,And round her body tied,With pebble stones he did it fill,Thinking the crime to hide.O then into the silver streamHe plunged her straightway,But with her precious blood was stainedWhich soon did him betray.O then this young man taken was,And into prison sent,In ratling chains he is confin’dHis crime for to lament,Until the Assizes do come onWhen trembling he must stand,Reflecting on the deed he’s done;Waiting the dread command.Now all you thoughtless young menA timely warning take;Likewise ye fair young maidens,For this poor damsel’s sake.And Oh beware of flattering tongues,For they’ll your ruin prove;So may you crown your future day,In comfort, joy, and love.

Or take another and stereotyped example, which from time to time has served equally well for the verseswritten bythe culprit—Brown, Jones, Robinson, or Smith:

“Those deeds I mournfully repent,But now it is too late,The day is past, the die is cast,And fixed is my fate.I see the hangman before me stand,Ready to seize me by the law’s command;When my life is ended on the fatal tree,Then will be clear’d up all mystery.”

Occasionally the Last Sorrowful Lamentation contained a “Love Letter”—the criminal being unable, in some instances, to read or write, being no obstacle to the composition—written according to the street patterer’s statement: “from the depths of the condemned cell, with the condemned pen, ink, and paper.” This mode of procedure in “gallows” literature, and this style of composition having prevailed for from sixty to seventy years.

Then they would say: “Here you have also an exact likeness of the murderer, taken at the bar of the Old Bailey by an eminent artist!” when all the time it was an old woodcut that had been used for every criminal for many years. Theblock!opposite, to our own knowledge, served as thecounterfeitpresentment of all popular murderers for upwards of forty years.

Likeness of the Murderer.

“There’s nothing beats a stunning good murder after all,” said a “running patterer” to Mr. Henry Mayhew, the author of “London Labour and London Poor.” It is only fair to assume that Mr. James Catnach shared in the sentiment, for it is said that he made over £500 by the publication of:—

“The Full, True and Particular Account of the Murder of Mr. Weare by John Thurtell and his Companions, which took place on the 24th of October, 1823, in Gill’s Hill-lane, near Elstree, in Hertfordshire:—Only One Penny.”

There were eight formes set up, for old Jemmy had no notion of stereotyping in those days, and pressmen had to re-cover theirown tympans with sheep-skins. But by working day and night for a week they managed to get off about 250,000 copies with the four presses, each working two formes at a time.

Thurtell Murdering Mr. Weare.

As the trial progressed, and the case became more fully developed, the public mind became almost insatiable. Every night and morning large bundles were despatched to the principal towns in the three kingdoms.

One of the many street-ballads on the subject informed the British public that:—

“Thurtell, Hunt, and Probert, too, for trial must now prepare,For that horrid murder of Mr. William Weare.”

The circumstances immediately attending the murder are so fully and so well detailed in the proper channels that we need not here say more than that the trial took place at Hertford on the 5th January, 1824.

The prisoners who stood indicted were John Thurtell and Joseph Hunt. The latter was at the time well known as a public singer and was somewhat celebrated for the talent which he possessed. Both prisoners were found guilty, but Hunt was reprieved and subsequently ordered to be transported for life. Thurtell, who fully confessed to the crime, was executed in front of Hertford gaol on Friday, the 9th of January, 1824.

As before observed, Catnach cleared over £500 by this event, and was so loth to leave it, that when a wag put him up to a joke, and showed him how he might set the thing a-going again, he could not withstand it; and so, about a fortnight after Thurtell had been hanged, Jemmy brought out a startling broad-sheet, headed, “WE ARE ALIVE AGAIN!” He put so little space between the words “WE” and “ARE” that it looked at first sight like “WEARE.” Many thousands were bought by the ignorant and gullible public, but those who did not like the trick called it a “catch penny,” and this gave rise to this peculiar term, which ever afterwards stuck to the issues of the “Seven Dials’ Press,” though they sold as well as ever.

Probert, who had been mixed up in the affair, was admitted as King’s evidence and discharged at the rising of the Court. He subsequently met the fate he so richly deserved, for, having been found guilty at the Old Bailey of horse stealing, he was executed there on the 20th of June, 1825.

THE CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OFJOHN THURTELLAt HERTFORD GAOL,On Friday, the 9th of January, 1824.THE EXECUTION.Hertford, half-past twelve o’clock.This morning, at ten minutes before twelve, a bustle among the javelin-men stationed within the boarded enclosure on which the drop was erected, announced to the multitude without that the preparations for the execution were nearly concluded. The javelin-men proceeded to arrange themselves in the order usually observed upon these melancholy but necessary occurrences. They had scarcely finished their arrangements, when the opening of the gate of the prison gave an additional impulse to public anxietyWhen the clock was on the stroke of twelve, Mr Nicholson, the Under-Sheriff, and the executioner ascended the platform, followed on to it by Thurtell, who mounted the stairs with a slow but steady step. The principal turnkey of the gaol came next, and was followed by Mr Wilson and two officers. On the approach of the prisoner being intimated by those persons who, being in an elevated situation, obtained the first view of him, all the immense multitude present took off their hats.Thurtell immediately placed himself under the fatal beam, and at that moment the chimes of a neighbouring clock began to strike twelve. The executioner then came forward with the rope, which he threw across it. Thurtell first lifted his eyes up to the drop, gazed at it for a few moments, and then took a calm but hurried survey of the multitude around him. He next fixed his eyes on a young gentleman in the crowd, whom he had frequently seen as a spectator at the commencement of the proceedings against him. Seeing that the individual was affected by the circumstance, he removed them to another quarter, and in so doing recognised an individual well known in the sporting circles, to whom he made a slight bow.The prisoner was attired in a dark brown great coat, with a black velvet collar, white corduroy breeches, drab gaiters and shoes. His hands were confined with handcuffs, instead of being tied with cord, as is usually the case on such occasions, and, at his own request, his arms were not pinioned. He wore a pair of black kid gloves, and the wrists of his shirt were visible below the cuffs of his coat. As on the last day of his trial, he wore a white cravat. The irons, which were very heavy, and consisted of a succession of chain links, were still on his legs, and were held up in the middle by a Belcher handkerchief tied round his waist.The executioner commenced his mournful duties by taking from the unhappy prisoner his cravat and collar. To obviate all difficulty in this stage of the proceedings, Thurtell flung back his head and neck, and so gave the executioner an opportunity of immediately divesting him of that part of his dress. After tying the rope round Thurtell’s neck, the executioner drew a white cotton cap over his countenance, which did not, however, conceal the contour of his face, or deprive him entirely of the view of surrounding objects.At that moment the clock sounded the last stroke of twelve. During the whole of this appalling ceremony, there was not the slightest symptom of emotion discernible in his features; his demeanour was perfectly calm and tranquil, and he behaved like a man acquainted with the dreadful ordeal he was about to pass, but not unprepared to meet it. Though his fortitude was thus conspicuous, it was evident from his appearance that in the interval between his conviction and his execution he must have suffered much. He looked careworn; his countenance had assumed a cadaverous hue, and there was a haggardness and lankness about his cheeks and mouth, which could not fail to attract the notice of every spectator.The executioner next proceeded to adjust the noose by which Thurtell was to be attached to the scaffold. After he had fastened it in such a manner as to satisfy his own mind, Thurtell looked up at it, and examined it with great attention. He then desired the executioner to let him have fall enough. The rope at this moment seemed as if it would only give a fall of two or three feet The executioner assured him that the fall was quite sufficient. The principal turnkey then went up to Thurtell, shook hands with him, and turned away in tears. Mr Wilson, the governor of the gaol, next approached him. Thurtell laid to him, “Do you think, Mr Wilson, I have got enough fall?” Mr Wilson replied, “I think you have, Sir. Yes, quite enough.” Mr Wilson then took hold of his hand, shook it, and said, “Good bye, Mr Thurtell, may God Almighty bless you.” Thurtell instantly replied, “God blessyou, Mr Wilson, God blessyou.” Mr Wilson next asked him whether he considered that the laws of his country had been dealt to him justly and fairly, upon which he said, “I admit that justice has been done me—I am perfectly satisfied.”A few seconds then elapsed, during which every person seemed to be engaged in examining narrowly Thurtell’s deportment His features, as well as they could be discerned, appeared to remain unmoved, and his hands, which were extremely prominent, continued perfectly steady, and were not affected by the slightest tremulous motion.Exactly at two minutes past twelve the Under-Sheriff, with his wand, gave the dreadful signal—the drop suddenly and silently fell—andJohn Thurtell was launchedinto Eternity.

THE CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OFJOHN THURTELLAt HERTFORD GAOL,On Friday, the 9th of January, 1824.

THE EXECUTION.

Hertford, half-past twelve o’clock.

This morning, at ten minutes before twelve, a bustle among the javelin-men stationed within the boarded enclosure on which the drop was erected, announced to the multitude without that the preparations for the execution were nearly concluded. The javelin-men proceeded to arrange themselves in the order usually observed upon these melancholy but necessary occurrences. They had scarcely finished their arrangements, when the opening of the gate of the prison gave an additional impulse to public anxiety

When the clock was on the stroke of twelve, Mr Nicholson, the Under-Sheriff, and the executioner ascended the platform, followed on to it by Thurtell, who mounted the stairs with a slow but steady step. The principal turnkey of the gaol came next, and was followed by Mr Wilson and two officers. On the approach of the prisoner being intimated by those persons who, being in an elevated situation, obtained the first view of him, all the immense multitude present took off their hats.

Thurtell immediately placed himself under the fatal beam, and at that moment the chimes of a neighbouring clock began to strike twelve. The executioner then came forward with the rope, which he threw across it. Thurtell first lifted his eyes up to the drop, gazed at it for a few moments, and then took a calm but hurried survey of the multitude around him. He next fixed his eyes on a young gentleman in the crowd, whom he had frequently seen as a spectator at the commencement of the proceedings against him. Seeing that the individual was affected by the circumstance, he removed them to another quarter, and in so doing recognised an individual well known in the sporting circles, to whom he made a slight bow.

The prisoner was attired in a dark brown great coat, with a black velvet collar, white corduroy breeches, drab gaiters and shoes. His hands were confined with handcuffs, instead of being tied with cord, as is usually the case on such occasions, and, at his own request, his arms were not pinioned. He wore a pair of black kid gloves, and the wrists of his shirt were visible below the cuffs of his coat. As on the last day of his trial, he wore a white cravat. The irons, which were very heavy, and consisted of a succession of chain links, were still on his legs, and were held up in the middle by a Belcher handkerchief tied round his waist.

The executioner commenced his mournful duties by taking from the unhappy prisoner his cravat and collar. To obviate all difficulty in this stage of the proceedings, Thurtell flung back his head and neck, and so gave the executioner an opportunity of immediately divesting him of that part of his dress. After tying the rope round Thurtell’s neck, the executioner drew a white cotton cap over his countenance, which did not, however, conceal the contour of his face, or deprive him entirely of the view of surrounding objects.

At that moment the clock sounded the last stroke of twelve. During the whole of this appalling ceremony, there was not the slightest symptom of emotion discernible in his features; his demeanour was perfectly calm and tranquil, and he behaved like a man acquainted with the dreadful ordeal he was about to pass, but not unprepared to meet it. Though his fortitude was thus conspicuous, it was evident from his appearance that in the interval between his conviction and his execution he must have suffered much. He looked careworn; his countenance had assumed a cadaverous hue, and there was a haggardness and lankness about his cheeks and mouth, which could not fail to attract the notice of every spectator.

The executioner next proceeded to adjust the noose by which Thurtell was to be attached to the scaffold. After he had fastened it in such a manner as to satisfy his own mind, Thurtell looked up at it, and examined it with great attention. He then desired the executioner to let him have fall enough. The rope at this moment seemed as if it would only give a fall of two or three feet The executioner assured him that the fall was quite sufficient. The principal turnkey then went up to Thurtell, shook hands with him, and turned away in tears. Mr Wilson, the governor of the gaol, next approached him. Thurtell laid to him, “Do you think, Mr Wilson, I have got enough fall?” Mr Wilson replied, “I think you have, Sir. Yes, quite enough.” Mr Wilson then took hold of his hand, shook it, and said, “Good bye, Mr Thurtell, may God Almighty bless you.” Thurtell instantly replied, “God blessyou, Mr Wilson, God blessyou.” Mr Wilson next asked him whether he considered that the laws of his country had been dealt to him justly and fairly, upon which he said, “I admit that justice has been done me—I am perfectly satisfied.”

A few seconds then elapsed, during which every person seemed to be engaged in examining narrowly Thurtell’s deportment His features, as well as they could be discerned, appeared to remain unmoved, and his hands, which were extremely prominent, continued perfectly steady, and were not affected by the slightest tremulous motion.

Exactly at two minutes past twelve the Under-Sheriff, with his wand, gave the dreadful signal—the drop suddenly and silently fell—and

John Thurtell was launchedinto Eternity.

On the 10th of September, 1824, Henry Fauntleroy, of the firm of Marsh, Stracey, Fauntleroy, and Graham, bankers, in Berners-street, was apprehended in consequence of its being discovered that in September, 1820, £10,000 3 per cent stock, standing in the names of himself, J. D. Hume, and John Goodchild, as trustees of Francis William Bellis, had been sold out under a power of attorney, to which the names of his co-trustees and some of the subscribing witnesses were forged. It was soon ascertained that the extent to which this practice had been carried was enormous, no less than £170,000 stock having been sold out in 1814 and 1815 by the same fraudulent means.

Every exertion was used by Mr. Fauntleroy’s counsel, his case being twice argued before the Judges, but both decisions were against him; and on the 30th of November, 1824, his execution took place. The number of persons assembled was estimated at nearly 100,000.

The station in society of this unfortunate man, and the long-established respectability of the banking-house, in which he was the most active partner, with the vast extent of the forgeries committed, gave to his case an intensity of interest which has scarcely ever been equalled, and during the whole time it was pending afforded plenty of work for the printers and vendors of street literature. Catnach’s advanced position, which was now far beyond all his compeers, caused him to get the lion’s share. Every incident in the man’s character, history, and actions was taken advantage of. The sheets, almost wet from the press, were read by high and low; by those who lived and revelled in marble halls and gilded saloons, as well as by those who thronged our large towns and centres of industry.

The parliamentary election of 1826, for the county of Northumberland, the principal seat of which was at Alnwick, gave early promise of being severely contested. There were four candidates in the field, namely, Henry Thomas Liddell, afterwards first Earl of Ravensworth, of Ravensworth Castle, county Durham; Mr. Matthew Bell, of Woolsingham, Northumberland; Mr. Thomas Wentworth Beaumont, and Lord Howick, afterwards Henry the third Earl Grey, K.G. The nomination of the candidates took place on Tuesday, June 20th, 1826, and the polling continued till July 6th, when the result was as follows:—

This contest was the greatest political event in the history of the county. It is estimated that it cost the candidates little short of £250,000.

Now, as we have before observed, Mr. Mark Smith—who till the time of his death, on the 18th of May, 1881, aged 87—carried on the business of printer and bookseller at Alnwick—and James Catnach, were fellow apprentices, both being bound to learn the art of printing to the elder Catnach on the same day. This early-formed acquaintanceship continued throughout the remaining portion of Catnach’s life, and whenever Mr. Mark Smith came to London in after years, he always visited Jemmy’s house.

It was in consequence of the continued friendship existing between Mr. Mark Smith and Jemmy Catnach that the latter had often expressed a desire to serve his fellow-apprentice, should circumstances occur to render it necessary. TheAlnwick election of 1826 promised to be a good one as regarded printing, and Mr. Smith anticipating a difficulty in getting through his work, applied to Catnach to know if he could render him any assistance. The result was that Jemmy at once proffered to go to Alnwick and take with him a small hand-press. After his arrival he seldom went out of the house, as all hands worked early and late, for, besides addresses, squibs, &c., they had to get out the state of the poll every afternoon, shortly after four o’clock. The number of addresses and squibs, in prose and verse, during this memorable election was enormous. The whole, when collected together, forms four good-sized volumes. The principal printers in Alnwick at this time, and who were engaged by the candidates, were Smith, Davison, and Graham. But there was a great deal of printing done at Newcastle, Gateshead, North Shields, Morpeth, and other towns.

There can be but little doubt that all who were professionally engaged at this election made a good thing out of it. The money spent upon printing alone must have been very great. And nearly all the public-houses in Alnwick were made “open houses,” as well as most of those in the principal towns throughout the county. Old people talk to this day, with a degree of pride of “those good old times” that existed at the Parliamentary elections previous to the passing of the Reform Bill of 1832. As far as Catnach was concerned, he merely went to help to pay off a deep debt of gratitude owing by him to the Smith family for many past favours to his own family when they were in dire distress inauld lang syne. Besides, Jemmy was now getting towards that state known as being “comfortably well-to-do,” and the trip was a change of air—a bit of a holiday, and a visit to the town of his birth. And as he had buried hismother in London during the early part of the year, he took the opportunity to erect in the parish churchyard, that which at once stands as a cenotaph and a tombstone, bearing the following inscription:—

“John, Son ofJohn Catnach,Printer, died August 27th,1794, Aged 5 years & 7 months.JOHN CATNACH died inLondon, 1813, Aged 44.Mary, his wife died Jany.24th, 1826, Aged 60 years,Also John, Margaret, andJane Catnach, lie here.”[9]

During Catnach’s absence from London on the Alnwick election, his old rivals—the Pitts family—were, as usual, concocting false reports, and exhibiting lampoons, after the following manner:—

“Poor Jemmy with the son of Old Nick,Down to Northumberland he’s gone;To take up his freedom at Alnwick,The why or the wherefore’s known to none.“Before he went, he washed in soap and sud,The Alnwick folks they found the fiddle;Then they dragged poor Jemmy through the mud,Two foot above his middle.

The above was in allusion to the old ceremony of being dragged through the dirty pool to be made a Freeman of the town of Alnwick. But, as far as Catnach was concerned, there is no truth whatever in the matter, it was simply “a weak invention of the enemy.” It was in the latter part of June and the beginning of July in the same year, that Catnach was at Alnwick, and the ceremony of making freemen always took place on St. Mark’s Day, April 25th, or at least two months earlier.

Thus the statement of the Pitts’ party was—

“As falseAs air, as water, as wind, as sandy earth,As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer’s calf,Pard to the hind, or step-dame to her son.”

Catnach, as the high priest of the literature of the streets, surrounded by trade rivals, “stood like a man at a mark with a whole army shooting at him,” but he was as firm as a rock and with the strength of a giant, and, as Hyperion to a Satyr, defied them all.

The destruction of the Royal Brunswick Theatre, Well-street, Wellclose-square, East London, on the 29th of February, 1828, by the falling in of the walls, in consequence of too much weight being attached to the heavy cast-iron roof, made a rare nine-day’s wonder for the workers of street-papers. Fortunately the catastrophe happened in the day-time, during the rehearsal of “Guy Mannering,” and only fifteen persons perished, viz:—

Mr. D. S. Maurice, a master printer, of Fenchurch-street, one of the Proprietors,Mr. J. EvansBristol ObserverMiss Mary A. FeronActress,Miss FreemanCorps de ballet,Mr. E. GilbertComedian,Mr. J. BlamireProperty Man,Mr. G. PenfoldDoorkeeper,Miss Jane WallVisitor,Mr. J. PurdyBlacksmith,Messrs. J. Miles, W. Leader,A. W. Davidson, M. Miles,and J. AbbottCarpenters,J. Levy,A Clothesman(accidentally passing).

Mr. D. S. Maurice, a master printer, of Fenchurch-street, one of the Proprietors,

“Oh yes, sir! I remember well the falling of the Brunswick Theatre, out Whitechapel way. It was a rare good thing for all the running and standing patterers in and about ten miles of London. Every day we all killed more and more people—in our “Latest Particulars.” One day there was twenty persons killed, the next day thirty or forty, until it got at last to be worked up to about a hundred, and all killed. Then we killed all sorts of people, Duke of Wellington, and all the Dukes and Duchesses, Bishops, swell nobs and snobs we could think of at the moment.”

ATROCIOUS MURDER OF A YOUNG WOMANIN SUFFOLK.

SINGULAR DISCOVERY OF THE BODYFROM A DREAM.

The Red Barn.

THE SCENE OF THE MURDER, AND WHERE THE BODY OF MARIAMARTEN WAS FOUND CONCEALED.

Four years after the Thurtell and Weare affair, namely, in the month of April, 1828, another “sensational” murder was discovered—that of Maria Marten, by William Corder, in the Red Barn, at Polstead, in the county of Suffolk. The circumstances that led to the discovery of this most atrocious murder, were of an extraordinary and romantic nature, and manifest an almost special interposition of Providence in marking out the offender. As the mother of the girl had on three several nights dreamt that her daughter was murdered and buried in Corder’s Red Barn, and as this proved to be the case, an additional “charm” was given to the circumstance. The “Catnach Press” was again set working both day and night, to meet the great demand for the “Full Particulars.” In due course came the gratifying announcement of the apprehension of the murderer! and the sale continued unabatingly in both town and country, every “Flying Stationer” making great profits by the sale.

Likeness of William Corder.

The trial of Corder took place at Bury St. Edmonds, on the 7th of August, 1828, before the Lord Chief Baron (Anderson). The prisoner pleaded “Not Guilty,” and the trial proceeded. On being called on for his defence, Corder read a manuscript paper. He declared that he deeply deplored the death of the unfortunate deceased, and he urged the jury to dismiss from their minds all that prejudice which must necessarily have been excited against him by the public press, &c. Having concluded his address, the Lord Chief Baron summed up, and a verdict of “Guilty” was returned. The Last Dying Speech and Confession had an enormous sale—estimated at 1,166,000, afac-similecopy of which with the “Lamentable Verses,” said to have been written by Old Jemmy Catnach will be found on the next page.

CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OFWILLIAM CORDER,THE MURDERER OF MARIA MARTEN.Since the tragical affair between Thurtell and Weare, no event has occurred connected with the criminal annals of our country which has excited so much interest as the trial of Corder, who was justly convicted of the murder of Maria Marten on Friday last.THE CONFESSION.“Bury Gaol, August 10th, 1828.—Condemned cell.“Sunday evening, half-past Eleven.“I acknowledge being guilty of the death of poor Maria Marten, by shooting her with a pistol. The particulars are as follows:—When we left her father’s house, we began quarrelling about the burial of the child: she apprehended the place wherein it was deposited would be found out. The quarrel continued about three quarters of an hour upon this sad and about other subjects. A scuffle ensued, and during the scuffle, and at the time I think that she had hold of me, I took the pistol from the side pocket of my velveteen jacket and fired. She fell, and died in an instant. I never saw her even struggle. I was overwhelmed with agitation and dismay:—the body fell near the front doors on the floor of the barn. A vast quantity of blood issued from the wound, and ran on to the floor and through the crevices. Having determined to bury the body in the barn (about two hours after she was dead). I went and borrowed a spade of Mrs Stow, but before I went there I dragged the body from the barn into the chaff-house, and locked the barn. I returned again to the barn, and began to dig a hole, but the spade being a bad one, and the earth firm and hard, I was obliged to go home for a pickaxe and a better spade, with which I dug the hole, and then buried the body. I think I dragged the body by the handkerchief that was tied round her neck. It was dark when I finished covering up the body. I went the next day, and washed the blood from off the barn-floor. I declare to Almighty God I had no sharp instrument about me, and no other wound but the one made by the pistol was inflicted by me. I have been guilty of great idleness, and at times led a dissolute life, but I hope through the mercy of God to be forgiven.William Corder.”Witness to the signing by the said William Corder,John Orridge.Condemned cell, Eleven o’clock, Monday morning,August 11th, 1828.The above confession was read over carefully to the prisoner in our presence, who stated most solemnly it was true, and that he had nothing to add to or retract from it—W. Stocking, chaplain;Timothy R. Holmes, Under-Sheriff.THE EXECUTION.At ten minutes before twelve o’clock the prisoner was brought from his cell and pinioned by the hangman, who was brought from London for the purpose. He appeared resigned, but was so weak as to be unable to stand without support; when his cravat was removed he groaned heavily, and appeared to be labouring under great mental agony. When his wrists and arms were made fast, he was led round towards the scaffold, and as he passed the different yards in which the prisoners were confined, he shook hands with them, and speaking to two of them by name, he said, “Good bye, God bless you.” They appeared considerably affected by the wretched appearance which he made, and “God bless you!” “May God receive your soul!” were frequently uttered as he passed along. The chaplain walked before the prisoner, reading the usual Burial Service, and the Governor and Officers walking immediately after him. Tho prisoner was supported to the steps which led to the scaffold; he looked somewhat wildly around, and a constable was obliged to support him while the hangman was adjusting the fatal cord. There was a barrier to keep off the crowd, amounting to upwards of 7,000 persons, who at this time had stationed themselves in the adjoining fields, on the hedges, the tops of houses, and at every point from which a view of the execution could be best obtained. The prisoner, a few moments before the drop fell, groaned heavily, and would have fallen, had not a second constable caught hold of him. Everything having been made ready, the signal was given, the fatal drop fell, and the unfortunate man was launched into eternity. Just before he was turned off, he said in a feeble tone, “I am justly sentenced, and may God forgive me.”The Murder of Maria Marten.BY W. CORDER.Comeall you thoughtless young men, a warning take by me,And think upon my unhappy fate to be hanged upon a tree;My name is William Corder, to you I do declare,I courted Maria Marten, most beautiful and fair.I promised I would marry her upon a certain day,Instead of that, I was resolved to take her life away.I went into her father’s house the 18th day of May,Saying, my dear Maria, we will fix the wedding day.If you will meet me at the Red-barn, as sure as I have life,I will take you to Ipswich town, and there make you my wife;I then went home and fetched my gun, my pickaxe and my spade,I went into the Red-barn, and there I dug her grave.With heart so light, she thought no harm, to meet him she did goHe murdered her all in the barn, and laid her body low;After the horrible deed was done, she lay weltering in her gore,Her bleeding mangled body he buried beneath the Red-barn floor.Now all things being silent, her spirit could not rest,She appeared onto her mother, who suckled her at her breast,For many a long month or more, her mind being sore oppress’d,Neither night or day she could not take any rest.Her mother’s mind being so disturbed, she dreamt three nights o’er,Her daughter she lay murdered beneath the Red-barn floor;She sent the father to the barn, when he the ground did thrust,And there he found his daughter mingling with the dust.My trial is hard, I could not stand, most woeful was the sight,When her jaw-bone was brought to prove, which pierced my heart quite;Her aged father standing by, likewise his loving wife,And in her grief her hair she tore, she scarcely could keep life.Adieu, adieu, my loving friends, my glass is almost run,On Monday next will be my last, when I am to be hang’d,So you, young men, who do pass by; with pity look on me,For murdering Maria Marten, I was hang’d upon the tree.Printed by J Catnach, 2 and 3, Monmouth Court.—Cards, &c., Printed Cheap

CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OFWILLIAM CORDER,THE MURDERER OF MARIA MARTEN.

Since the tragical affair between Thurtell and Weare, no event has occurred connected with the criminal annals of our country which has excited so much interest as the trial of Corder, who was justly convicted of the murder of Maria Marten on Friday last.

THE CONFESSION.

“Bury Gaol, August 10th, 1828.—Condemned cell.“Sunday evening, half-past Eleven.

“I acknowledge being guilty of the death of poor Maria Marten, by shooting her with a pistol. The particulars are as follows:—When we left her father’s house, we began quarrelling about the burial of the child: she apprehended the place wherein it was deposited would be found out. The quarrel continued about three quarters of an hour upon this sad and about other subjects. A scuffle ensued, and during the scuffle, and at the time I think that she had hold of me, I took the pistol from the side pocket of my velveteen jacket and fired. She fell, and died in an instant. I never saw her even struggle. I was overwhelmed with agitation and dismay:—the body fell near the front doors on the floor of the barn. A vast quantity of blood issued from the wound, and ran on to the floor and through the crevices. Having determined to bury the body in the barn (about two hours after she was dead). I went and borrowed a spade of Mrs Stow, but before I went there I dragged the body from the barn into the chaff-house, and locked the barn. I returned again to the barn, and began to dig a hole, but the spade being a bad one, and the earth firm and hard, I was obliged to go home for a pickaxe and a better spade, with which I dug the hole, and then buried the body. I think I dragged the body by the handkerchief that was tied round her neck. It was dark when I finished covering up the body. I went the next day, and washed the blood from off the barn-floor. I declare to Almighty God I had no sharp instrument about me, and no other wound but the one made by the pistol was inflicted by me. I have been guilty of great idleness, and at times led a dissolute life, but I hope through the mercy of God to be forgiven.William Corder.”

Witness to the signing by the said William Corder,

John Orridge.

Condemned cell, Eleven o’clock, Monday morning,August 11th, 1828.

The above confession was read over carefully to the prisoner in our presence, who stated most solemnly it was true, and that he had nothing to add to or retract from it—W. Stocking, chaplain;Timothy R. Holmes, Under-Sheriff.

THE EXECUTION.

At ten minutes before twelve o’clock the prisoner was brought from his cell and pinioned by the hangman, who was brought from London for the purpose. He appeared resigned, but was so weak as to be unable to stand without support; when his cravat was removed he groaned heavily, and appeared to be labouring under great mental agony. When his wrists and arms were made fast, he was led round towards the scaffold, and as he passed the different yards in which the prisoners were confined, he shook hands with them, and speaking to two of them by name, he said, “Good bye, God bless you.” They appeared considerably affected by the wretched appearance which he made, and “God bless you!” “May God receive your soul!” were frequently uttered as he passed along. The chaplain walked before the prisoner, reading the usual Burial Service, and the Governor and Officers walking immediately after him. Tho prisoner was supported to the steps which led to the scaffold; he looked somewhat wildly around, and a constable was obliged to support him while the hangman was adjusting the fatal cord. There was a barrier to keep off the crowd, amounting to upwards of 7,000 persons, who at this time had stationed themselves in the adjoining fields, on the hedges, the tops of houses, and at every point from which a view of the execution could be best obtained. The prisoner, a few moments before the drop fell, groaned heavily, and would have fallen, had not a second constable caught hold of him. Everything having been made ready, the signal was given, the fatal drop fell, and the unfortunate man was launched into eternity. Just before he was turned off, he said in a feeble tone, “I am justly sentenced, and may God forgive me.”

The Murder of Maria Marten.

BY W. CORDER.

Comeall you thoughtless young men, a warning take by me,And think upon my unhappy fate to be hanged upon a tree;My name is William Corder, to you I do declare,I courted Maria Marten, most beautiful and fair.I promised I would marry her upon a certain day,Instead of that, I was resolved to take her life away.I went into her father’s house the 18th day of May,Saying, my dear Maria, we will fix the wedding day.If you will meet me at the Red-barn, as sure as I have life,I will take you to Ipswich town, and there make you my wife;I then went home and fetched my gun, my pickaxe and my spade,I went into the Red-barn, and there I dug her grave.With heart so light, she thought no harm, to meet him she did goHe murdered her all in the barn, and laid her body low;After the horrible deed was done, she lay weltering in her gore,Her bleeding mangled body he buried beneath the Red-barn floor.Now all things being silent, her spirit could not rest,She appeared onto her mother, who suckled her at her breast,For many a long month or more, her mind being sore oppress’d,Neither night or day she could not take any rest.Her mother’s mind being so disturbed, she dreamt three nights o’er,Her daughter she lay murdered beneath the Red-barn floor;She sent the father to the barn, when he the ground did thrust,And there he found his daughter mingling with the dust.My trial is hard, I could not stand, most woeful was the sight,When her jaw-bone was brought to prove, which pierced my heart quite;Her aged father standing by, likewise his loving wife,And in her grief her hair she tore, she scarcely could keep life.Adieu, adieu, my loving friends, my glass is almost run,On Monday next will be my last, when I am to be hang’d,So you, young men, who do pass by; with pity look on me,For murdering Maria Marten, I was hang’d upon the tree.

Printed by J Catnach, 2 and 3, Monmouth Court.—Cards, &c., Printed Cheap

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