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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c5d4a73 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52301 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52301) diff --git a/old/52301-0.txt b/old/52301-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 813a35b..0000000 --- a/old/52301-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10016 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Some Distinguished Victims of the Scaffold, by -Horace Bleackley - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Some Distinguished Victims of the Scaffold - -Author: Horace Bleackley - -Release Date: June 10, 2016 [EBook #52301] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISTINGUISHED VICTIMS OF THE SCAFFOLD *** - - - - -Produced by Brian Coe, Wayne Hammond and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - -SOME DISTINGUISHED VICTIMS OF THE SCAFFOLD - - -[Illustration: The IDLE ‘PRENTICE Executed at Tyburn.] - - - - - SOME - - DISTINGUISHED VICTIMS - - OF THE SCAFFOLD - - BY - - HORACE BLEACKLEY - - _WITH TWENTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS_ - - - LONDON - KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRÜBNER, & CO., LTD. - DRYDEN HOUSE, GERRARD STREET, W. - 1905 - - - - - To - - JOSEPH GREGO - - WHOSE MEMORY IS STORED WITH - PICTURES OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY - THESE MODERN IMPRESSIONS FROM - OLD PLATES ARE - OFFERED - - - - -PREFACE - - -No apology is needed, save that which the consciousness of inadequate -work may call forth, from him who writes a history of great criminals. -Since the lives of so many whose crime is their only title to fame -have been included in the _Dictionary of National Biography_, it is -inevitable that some of these old stories shall be re-told. Already -the books of Charles Whibley and J. B. Atlay, as well as the newspaper -sketches of W. W. Hutchings, have advanced this portion of our -bibliography to a large extent. By a judicious selection some rare -human documents and many an entrancing tale may be found in the crimson -pages of the Tyburn Chronicle. The dainty squeamishness that put -Ainsworth into the pillory, not because he had written a clumsy novel, -but because he had dared to weave a romance around the grisly walls of -Newgate, would be out of place in an age that will listen to ballads -of a drunken soldier, and reads our women’s stories of the boudoirs of -Mayfair. - -Without a knowledge of the _Newgate Calendar_ it is impossible to be -acquainted with the history of England in the eighteenth century. On -the other hand, to him who knows these volumes, and who has verified -his information in the pages of the Sessions papers and among the -battles of the pamphleteers, the Georgian era is an open book. No -old novel gives a more exact picture of a middle-class household than -the trial of Mary Blandy, nor shows the inner life of those on the -fringe of society more completely than the story of Robert Perreau. -While following the fate of Henry Fauntleroy we enter the newspaper -world of our great-grandfathers. And as we look upon these forgotten -dramas, the most illustrious bear us company. For a time Wordsworth and -Coleridge chat of nothing but the Beauty of Buttermere and rascally -John Hadfield. Dr Johnson thinks wistfully of the charms of sweet Mrs -Rudd. Boswell rides to Tyburn in the same coach as the Rev. Mr Hackman, -or persuades Sir Joshua to witness an execution. Henry Fielding lashes -the cowards who strive to condemn a prisoner unheard. To all who desire -to understand the eighteenth century the _Newgate Calendar_ is as -essential as the _Letters_ of Walpole. - -In making a selection from the dozen or more _causes célèbres_ that -stand out in special prominence from the rebellion of ’45 to the death -of George IV. the choice is not difficult. It is apparent that the -stories of Eugene Aram, Dr Dodd, and John Thurtell must be omitted, for -all have been told adequately in recent years. Little that is new or -interesting can be found in the tale of mad Lord Ferrers, except that -he was not hanged with a silken rope. Although the weird tragedy of the -Rev. James Hackman sank more deeply into the popular mind than almost -any other, the history of the brothers Perreau has been preferred, -since Mrs Rudd appears a more attractive personage than the unfortunate -Martha Ray. For similar reasons Wynne Ryland takes the place of Captain -Donellan, and Eliza Fenning, naturally, has been excluded in favour -of the Keswick Impostor. As to the rest, it is obvious--owing to the -omission of the highwayman and those guilty of high treason such as -Colonel Despard--that no more illustrious names can be found in the -_Newgate Calendar_ than Mary Blandy, Joseph Wall, and Henry Fauntleroy. - -Each crime, moreover, bears the distinct impress of its epoch. None -other but the dark night that separates a gorgeous sunset from the -brilliant dawn could witness the sombre tragedy at Henley. While the -nation begins its eager life as a young apprentice to trade, Tom Idle -is found among the recreants, and many a sparkling macaroni like -Daniel Perreau prefers to stake his all in Exchange Alley to pursuing -laborious days. Wynne Ryland is dazzled by the birth of a most radiant -springtide when the world becomes clothed in beauty, and man seems to -have stolen the heavenly flame. Then comes the clash of arms and the -strife of worlds, when the red giants are unchained, and the life of -ten thousand men is naught in the policy of a statesman. With the story -of the Maid of Buttermere we perceive again one of the spirits of the -age--vain, ruthless Strephon in dandy attire pursuing his Phyllis, -shallow-pated and simple. And last, the era of Henry Fauntleroy, when -the nation has grown rich, and man must choose between the scarlet of -the Corinthian, and the dull, sober garb of toil--a strange mingling of -black and crimson. - -In order to avoid an interruption of the narrative which a footnote -must always cause, the editorial comments have been placed in the -bibliography at the end of each monograph, to which those who differ -from the author are requested to refer. Although the addition of the -lists of authorities has robbed the book of due proportion, the fact -that the useful adage “when found make a note of” has been observed -will, it is hoped, cause the loss to be balanced by the gain. - -The author wishes to acknowledge his obligations to Mr John Arthur -for his kindness in verifying references in the British Museum; to Mr -Isaac Edwards of Bolton for similar help; to the editors of the _Henley -Advertiser_, the _Carlisle Journal_, and the _Tiverton Gazette_ for -access to the files of their newspapers; to the rectors of Henley, -Feltham, Mottram, St Sepulchre’s, Holborn, and St Martin’s, Ludgate, -for permission to consult the church register; to Mr Richard Greenup of -Caldbeck for information concerning the Beauty of Buttermere; and to -Mrs Bleackley for the list of Wynne Ryland’s engravings. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - THE LOVE PHILTRE. The Case of Mary Blandy, 1751-1752 1 - - A Bibliography of the Blandy Case 35 - - - THE UNFORTUNATE BROTHERS. The Case of Robert and Daniel - Perreau and Margaret Caroline Rudd, 1775-1776 39 - - A Bibliography of the Perreau Case 70 - - - THE KING’S ENGRAVER. The Case of William Wynne Ryland, - 1783 74 - - A Bibliography of the Ryland Case 107 - - A List of William Wynne Ryland’s Engravings 110 - - - A SOP TO CERBERUS. The Case of Governor Wall, 1782-1802 112 - - A Bibliography of the Wall Case 144 - - - THE KESWICK IMPOSTOR. The Case of John Hadfield, 1802-1803 146 - - A Bibliography of the Hadfield Case 175 - - - A FAMOUS FORGERY. The Case of Henry Fauntleroy, 1824-- - - Part I. The Criminal and his Crime 178 - - Part II. Some Details of the Forgeries 207 - - Fauntleroy and the Newspapers 220 - - Notes on the Fauntleroy Case 224 - - - INDEX 227 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - 1. The Execution of the Idle Apprentice at Tyburn, - _by Hogarth_ _Frontispiece_ - - PAGE - - 2. Mary Blandy. _Mezzotint by T. Ryley after L. Wilson_ _to face_ 1 - - 3. The Divinity School, Oxford, where Miss Blandy was - tried ” 23 - - 4. The Execution of Miss Blandy. _From an engraving - by John Cole_ 35 - - 5. Messrs Robert and Daniel Perreau in the Dock ” 39 - - 6. Margaret Caroline Rudd. _Line engraving by G. - Sibelius after D. Dodd_ ” 47 - - 7. Mrs Margaret Rudd in the Dock. _Drawn and - engraved by G. Bartolozzi_ ” 61 - - 8. William Wynne Ryland. _Drawn and engraved - by P. Falconet_ ” 74 - - 9. His Majesty King George III. _Line engraving by - W. W. Ryland after Allan Ramsay_ ” 84 - - 10. Charles Rogers. _Mezzotint by W. W. Ryland after - Sir Joshua Reynolds_ ” 87 - - 11. General Stanwix’s Daughter. _Stipple engraving by - W. W. Ryland after Angelica Kauffman_ (an - example of the famous ‘red-chalk’ manner) ” 90 - - 12. Angelica Kauffman. _Stipple engraving by T. Burke - after Sir Joshua Reynolds_ ” 110 - - 13. Governor Wall. _An etching by J. Chapman_ ” 112 - - 14. John Hadfield. _Etched by J. Chapman_ ” 146 - - 15. The Beauty of Buttermere. _Coloured engraving - after John Smith_ ” 152 - - 16. Mary of Buttermere. _Stipple engraving by Mackenzie - from a drawing by W. M. Bennet_ ” 158 - - 17. Mary of Buttermere. _Etched by James Gillray_ ” 173 - - 18. Henry Fauntleroy. _From a sketch by “A. V.”_ ” 178 - - 19. James Harmer. _Line engraving by T. Wright from - a drawing by A. Wivell_ ” 192 - - 20. Fauntleroy’s Trial at the Old Bailey. _By W. Read_ ” 195 - - 21. Catnach’s Broadside of Fauntleroy’s Execution ” 204 - -[Illustration: - - _F. Wilson Pinxᵗ._ _T. Riley Fecit._ - -_Miss Blandy_ - -_Now confined in Oxford Gaol on Suspicion of Poisoning her Father._] - - - - -Some Distinguished Victims of the Scaffold - - - - -THE LOVE PHILTRE - -THE CASE OF MARY BLANDY, 1751-2 - - “Who hath not heard of Blandy’s fatal fame, - Deplored her fate, and sorrowed o’er her shame?” - - --_Henley_, a poem, 1827. - - -During the reign of George II.--when the gallant Young Pretender was -leading Jenny Cameron toward Derby, and flabby, gin-besotted England, -dismayed by a rabble of half-famished Highlanders, was ready to take -its thrashing lying-down--a prosperous attorney, named Francis Blandy, -was living at Henley-upon-Thames. For nine years he had held the post -of town clerk, and was reckoned a person of skill in his profession. -A dour, needle-witted man of law, whose social position was more -considerable than his means or his lineage, old Mr Blandy, like others -wiser than himself, had a foible. His pride was just great enough to -make him a tuft-hunter. In those times, a solicitor in a country town -had many chances of meeting his betters on equal terms, and when the -attorney of Henley pretended that he had saved the large sum of ten -thousand pounds, county society esteemed him at his supposed value. -There lived with him--in an old-world home surrounded by gardens and -close to the bridge on the London road--his wife and daughter, an only -child, who at this period was twenty-five years of age. - -Mrs Blandy, as consequential an old dame as ever flaunted _sacque_ -or nodded her little bugle over a dish of tea, seems to have spent -a weary existence in wringing from her tight-fisted lord the funds -to support the small frivolities which her social ambition deemed -essential to their prestige. A feminine mind seldom appreciates the -reputation without the utility of wealth, and the lawyer’s wife had -strong opinions with regard to the propriety of living up to their -ten-thousand-pound celebrity. While he was content with the barren -honour that came to him by reason of the reputed _dot_ which his -daughter one day must enjoy--pluming himself, no doubt, that his Molly -had as good a chance of winning a coronet as the penniless daughter of -an Irish squireen--his lady, with more worldly wisdom, knew the value -of an occasional jaunt to town, and was fully alive to the chances of -rout or assembly hard-by at Reading. Thus in the pretty little home -near the beautiful reach of river, domestic storms--sad object-lesson -to an only child--raged frequently over the parental truck and barter -at the booths of Vanity Fair. - -Though not a beauty--for the smallpox, that stole the bloom from the -cheeks of many a sparkling belle in hoop and brocade, had set its seal -upon her face--the portrait of Mary Blandy shows that she was comely. -Still, it is a picture in which there is a full contrast between the -light and shadows. Those fine glistening black eyes of hers--like the -beam of sunshine that illumines a sombre chamber--made one forget the -absence of winsome charm in her features; yet their radiance appeared -to come through dark unfathomable depths rather than as the reflection -of an unclouded soul. With warmth all blood may glow, with softness -every heart can beat, but some, like hers, must be compelled by -reciprocal power. Such, in her empty home, was not possible. Even the -love and devotion of her parents gave merely a portion of their own -essence. From a greedy father she acquired the sacred lust, and learnt -from infancy to dream, with morbid longing, of her future dower; while -her mother encouraged a hunger for vain and giddy pleasure, teaching -unwittingly that these must be bought at the expense of peace, or by -the sacrifice of truth. To a girl of wit and intelligence in whose -heart nature had not sown the seeds of kindness, these lessons came as -a crop of tares upon a fruitful soil. But, as in the case of all women, -there was one hope of salvation. Indeed, since the passion of her soul -cried out with imperious command that she should fulfil the destiny -of her sex, the love of husband and children would have found her a -strong but pliable material that could be fashioned into more gentle -form. Without such influence she was one of those to whom womanhood -was insufferable--a mortal shape where lay encaged one of the fiercest -demons of discontent. - -Molly Blandy did not lack admirers. Being pleasant and vivacious--while -her powers of attraction were enhanced by the rumour of her -fortune--not a few of the beaux in the fashionable world of Bath, and -county society at Reading, gave homage and made her their toast. In -the eyes of her parents it was imperative that a suitor should be able -to offer to their daughter a station of life befitting an heiress. -On this account two worthy swains, who were agreeable to the maiden -but could not provide the expected dower, received a quick dismissal. -Although there was nothing exorbitant in the ambition of the attorney -and his dame, it is clear that the girl learnt an evil lesson from -these mercenary transactions. Still, her crosses in love do not seem -to have sunk very deeply into her heart, but henceforth her conduct -lost a little of its maidenly reserve. The freedom of the coquette -took the place of the earnestness and sincerity that had been the -mark of her ardent nature, and her conduct towards the officers of -the regiment stationed at Henley was deemed too forward. However, the -father, whose reception into military circles no doubt made the desired -impression upon his mayor and aldermen, was well satisfied that his -daughter should be on familiar terms with her soldier friends. Even -when she became betrothed to a captain of no great fortune, he offered -small objection on account of the position of the young man. Yet, -although the prospect of a son-in-law who held the king’s commission -had satisfied his vanity, the old lawyer, who foolishly had allowed -the world to believe him richer than he was, could not, or (as he -pretended) would not, provide a sufficient dowry. Thus the engagement -promised to be a long one. Fate, however, decided otherwise. Very -soon her suitor was ordered abroad on active service, and the hope of -marriage faded away for the third time. - -In the summer of 1746, while no doubt she was sighing for her soldier -across the seas, the man destined to work the tragic mischief of her -life appeared on the scene. William Henry Cranstoun, a younger son -of the fifth Lord Cranstoun, a Scottish baron, was a lieutenant of -marines, who, since his regiment had suffered severely during the late -Jacobite rebellion, had come to Henley on a recruiting expedition. At -first his attentions to Miss Blandy bore no fruit, but he returned the -following summer, and while staying with his grand-uncle, General Lord -Mark Kerr, who was an acquaintance of the lawyer and his family, he -found that Mary was off with the old love and willing to welcome him -as the new. All were amazed that the fastidious girl should forsake -her gallant captain for this little sprig from North Britain--an -undersized spindleshanks, built after Beau Diddapper pattern--in whose -weak eyes and pock-fretten features love must vainly seek her mirror. -Still greater was the astonishment when ten-thousand-pound Blandy, -swollen with importance, began to babble of “my Lord of Crailing,” -and the little bugle cap of his dame quivered with pride as she told -her gossips of “my Lady Cranstoun, my daughter’s new mamma.” For it -was common knowledge that the small Scot was the fifth son of a needy -house, with little more than his pay to support his many vicious and -extravagant habits. Such details seem to have been overlooked by the -vain parents in their delight at the honour and glory of an alliance -with a family of title. In the late autumn of 1747 they invited their -prospective son-in-law to their home, where, as no one was fonder of -free quarters, he remained for six months. But the cruel fate that -presided over the destinies of the unfortunate Mary intervened once -more. Honest Lord Mark Kerr (whose prowess as a duellist is chronicled -in many a page), perceiving the intentions of his unscrupulous -relative, made haste to give his lawyer friend the startling news that -Cranstoun was a married man. - -This information was correct. Yet, although wedded since the year -before the rebellion, the vicious little Scot was seeking to put away -the charming lady who was his wife and the mother of his child. Plain -enough were the motives. A visit to England had taught him that the -title which courtesy permitted him to bear was a commercial asset -that, south of the Tweed, would enable him to sell himself in a better -market. As one of his biographers tells us, “he saw young sparklers -every day running off with rich prizes,” for the chapels of Wilkinson -and Keith were always ready to assist the abductor of an heiress. -Indeed, before his arrival at Henley, he had almost succeeded in -capturing the daughter of a Leicestershire squire, when the father, who -suddenly learnt his past history, sent him about his business. Still, -he persisted in his attempts to get the Scotch marriage annulled, and -his chances seemed favourable. Most of the relatives of his wife, who -had espoused the losing side in the late rebellion, were fled in exile -to France or Flanders. Moreover, she belonged to the Catholic Church, -which at that time in stern Presbyterian Scotland had fallen upon evil -days. Believing that she was alone and friendless, and relying, no -doubt, upon the sectarian prejudices of the law courts, he set forth -the base lie that he had promised to marry her only on condition she -became Protestant. His explanation to the Blandys, in answer to Lord -Mark’s imputation, was the same as his defence before the Scottish -Commissaries. The lady was his mistress, not his wife! - -Miss Blandy took the same view of the case that Sophy Western did under -similar circumstances. Human nature was little different in those days, -but men wore their hearts on their sleeve instead of exhibiting them -only in the Courts, and women preferred to be deemed complacent rather -than stupid. Doubtless old lawyer Blandy grunted many Saxon sarcasms -at the expense of Scotch jurisprudence, and trembled lest son-in-law -Diddapper had been entangled beyond redemption. Still, father, mother, -and daughter believed the word of their guest, waiting anxiously for -the result of the litigation that was to make him a free man. During -the year 1748 the Commissaries at Edinburgh decided that Captain -Cranstoun and the ill-used Miss Murray were man and wife. Then the -latter, being aware of the flirtation at Henley, wrote to warn Miss -Blandy, and provided her with a copy of the Court’s decree. Great -was the consternation at the house on the London road. Visions of -tea-gossip over the best set of china in the long parlour at Crailing -with my Lady Cranstoun vanished from the old mother’s eyes, while the -town clerk forgot his dreams of the baby whose two grand-fathers were -himself and a live lord. Nevertheless, the young Scotsman protested -that the marriage was invalid, declared that he would appeal to the -highest tribunal, and swore eternal fidelity to his Mary. Alas, she -trusted him! Within the sombre depths of her soul there dwelt a fierce -resolve to make this man her own. In her sight he was no graceless -creature from the barrack-room, but with a great impersonal love she -sought in him merely the fulfilment of her destiny. - - “In her first passion, woman loves her lover: - In all the others, all she loves is love.” - -At this time Cranstoun’s fortunes were in a parlous state. More than -half of his slender patrimony had been sequestered for the maintenance -of his wife and child, and shortly after the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, -his regiment being disbanded, he was left on half-pay. Still, he did -not waver in his purpose to win the heiress of Henley. - -On the 30th of September 1749, the poor frivolous old head, which -had sported its cap so bravely amidst the worries of pretentious -poverty, lay still upon the pillow, and Mary Blandy looked upon the -face of her dead mother. It was the turning-point in her career. While -his wife was alive, the old lawyer had never lost all faith in his -would-be son-in-law during the two years that he had been affianced -to his daughter, in spite of the rude shocks which had staggered his -credulity. Cranstoun had been allowed to sponge on him for another six -months in the previous summer, and had pursued his womenfolk when they -paid a visit to Mary’s uncle, Serjeant Stevens, of Doctors’ Commons. -However, soon after the death of his wife the patience of Mr Blandy, -who must have perceived that the case of the pretender was hopeless, -seems to have become worn out. All idea of the baron’s grandchild faded -from his mind; the blear-eyed lover was forbidden the house, and for -nearly twelve months did not meet his trusting sweetheart. - -Although a woman of her intelligence must have perceived that, but -for some untoward event, her relationship with her betrothed could -never be one of honour, her fidelity remained unshaken. Having passed -her thirtieth birthday, the dreadful stigma of spinsterhood was -fast falling upon her. If the methods of analogy are of any avail, -it is clear that she had become a creature of lust--not the lust -of sensuality, but that far more insatiable greed, the craving for -conquest, possession, the attainment of the unattainable, calling -forth not one but all the emotions of body and soul. A sacrifice of -honour--a paltry thing in the face of such mighty passion--would have -been no victory, for such in itself was powerless to accomplish the -essential metamorphosis of her life. In mutual existence with a lover -and slave the destiny of this rare woman alone could be achieved. Thus -came the harvest of the tempest. It was not the criminal negligence -of the father in encouraging for nearly three years the pretensions -of a suitor, who--so a trustworthy gentleman had told him--was a -married man, that had planted the seeds of storm. Nor did the filial -love of the daughter begin to fade and wither because she had been -taught that the affections, like anything which has a price, should -be subject to barter and exchange. Deeper far lay the roots of the -malignant disease--growing as a portion of her being--a part and -principle of life itself. Environment and education merely had -inclined into its stunted form the twig, which could never bear fruit -unless grafted upon a new stalk! And while the sombre girl brooded over -her strange impersonal passion, there rang in her ears the voice of -demon-conscience, unceasingly--a taunting, frightful whisper, “When the -old man is in his grave you shall be happy.” - -The esteem of posterity for the eighteenth century, to which belong -so many noble lives and great minds, has been influenced by the -well-deserved censure bestowed upon a particular epoch. The year 1750 -marks a period of transition when all the worst characteristics of the -Georgian era were predominant. For nearly a quarter of a century the -scornful glance that the boorish little king threw at any book had been -reflected in the national taste for literature. Art had hobbled along -bravely on the crutches of caricature, tolerated on account of its -deformity, and not for its worth. The drama, which had drifted to the -lowest ebb in the days of Rich and Heidegger, was just rising from its -mudbank, under the leadership of Garrick, with the turn of the tide. -Religion, outside the pale of Methodism, was as dead as the influence -of the Church of England and its plurality divines. The prostitution -of the marriage laws in the Fleet and Savoy had grown to be a menace -to the social fabric. London reeked of gin; and although the business -of Jack Ketch has been seldom more flourishing, property, until -magistrate Fielding came forward, was never less secure from the thief -and highwayman. Our second George, who flaunted his mistresses before -the public gaze, was a worthy leader of a coarse and vicious society. -Female dress took its form from the vulgarity of the times, and was -never uglier and more indecent simultaneously. Not only was the ‘modern -fine lady,’ who wept when a handsome thief was hung, a common type, but -the Boobys and Bellastons were fashionable women of the day, quite as -much alive as Elizabeth Chudleigh or Caroline Fitzroy. Such was the age -of Miss Blandy, and she proved a worthy daughter of it. - -In the late summer of 1750 the fickle attorney, who had become weary -of opposition, consented to withdraw the sentence of banishment he -had pronounced against his daughter’s lover. Possibly he fancied that -there was a chance, after all, of the Scotch lieutenant’s success in -the curious law-courts of the North, and perhaps a present of salmon, -received from Lady Cranstoun, appeared to him as a favourable augury. -Consequently the needy fortune-hunter, who was only too ready to return -to his free quarters, paid another lengthy visit to Henley. As the -weeks passed, it was evident that the temper of the host and father, -whose senile humours were swayed by gravel and heartburn, could not -support the new ménage. Fearful lest the devotion of his Molly had -caused her to lose all regard for her fair fame, wroth that the clumsy -little soldier should have disturbed the peace of his household, the -old man received every mention of “the tiresome affair in Scotland” -with sneers and gibes. Vanished was the flunkey-optimism that had led -him to welcome once more the pertinacious slip of Scottish baronage. -Naught would have appeased him but prompt evidence that the suitor was -free to lead his daughter to the altar. Nothing could be plainer than -that the querulous widower had lost all confidence in his unwelcome -guest. - -The faithful lovers were filled with dismay. A few strokes of the pen -might rob them for ever of their ten thousand pounds. Their wishes -were the same, their minds worked as one. A deep, cruel soul-blot, -transmitted perhaps by some cut-throat borderer through the blood -of generations, would have led William Cranstoun to commit, without -scruple, the vilest of crimes. Those base attempts to put away his -wife, and to cast the stigma of bastardy upon his child, added to his -endeavour to entrap one heiress after another into a bigamous marriage, -make him guilty of offences less only than murder. In his present -position he had cause for desperation. Yet, although utterly broken in -fortune, there was a rich treasure at his hand if he dared to seize -it. Were her father dead, Molly Blandy, whether as wife or mistress, -would be his--body, soul, and wealth. Within the veins of the woman -a like heart-stain spread its poison. All the lawless passion of her -nature cried out against her parent’s rule, which, to her mind, was -seeking to banish what had become more precious than her life. Knowing -that her own fierce will had its mate in his, she believed that his -obduracy could not be conquered, and she lived in dread lest she should -be disinherited. And all this time, day after day, the demon-tempter -whispered, “When the old man is in his grave you shall be happy.” - -Which of the guilty pair was the first to suggest the heartless crime -it is impossible to ascertain, but there is evidence, apart from Miss -Blandy’s statement, that Cranstoun was the leading spirit. Possibly, -nay probably, the deed was never mentioned in brutal plainness in so -many words. The history of crime affords many indications that the -blackest criminals are obliged to soothe a neurotic conscience with -the anodyne of make-belief. It is quite credible that the two spoke of -the projected murder from the first (as indeed Miss Blandy explained -it later) as an attempt to conciliate the old lawyer by administering -a supernatural love philtre, having magical qualities like Oberon’s -flower in _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_, which would make him consent to -their marriage. Presently a reign of mystic terror seemed to invade the -little house in the London road. With fear ever present in her eyes, -the figure of the sombre woman glided from room to room, whispering -to the frightened servants ghostly tales of things supernatural--of -unearthly music that she had heard during the misty autumn nights, of -noises that had awakened her from sleep, of the ghastly apparitions -that had appeared to her lover. And to all these stories she had -but one dismal interpretation--saying it had come to her from a -wizard-woman in Scotland--they were signs and tokens that her father -would die within a year! Those who heard her listened and trembled, -and the words sank deep into their memory. So the winter crept on; -but while all slunk through the house with bated breath, shrinking at -each mysterious sound, the old man, doomed by the sorceress, remained -unsuspicious of what was going on around him. - -Not long before Christmas, to the great relief of his churlish host, -the little Scotsman’s clumsy legs passed through the front door for -the last time, and he set out for his brother’s seat at Crailing in -the shire of Roxburgh. Yet, though his lengthy visit had come to an -end, his spirit remained to rule the brain of the woman who loved -him. Early in the year 1751 she received a box, containing a present -from Cranstoun, a set of table linen, and some ‘Scotch pebbles.’ -Lawyer Blandy viewed the stones with suspicious eyes, for he hated all -things beyond the Cheviot Hills, but did not make any comment. The -relationship between father and daughter had become cold and distant. -Quarrels were constant in the unhappy home. Often in the midst of -her passion she was heard to mutter deep curses against the old man. -Indeed, so banished was her love that she talked without emotion to the -servants of the likelihood of his death, in fulfilment of the witch’s -prophecy. - -Some weeks later, when another consignment of the mysterious ‘Scotch -pebbles’ had arrived for Miss Blandy, it was noticed that her conduct -became still more dark and strange. Slinking through the house with -slow and stealthy tread, she appeared to shun all eyes, as though bent -upon some hidden purpose. A glance within the box from the North would -have revealed the secret. When the crafty accomplice found that she was -unable to procure the means of taking her father’s life, he had been -forced to supply her with the weapons. During the spring, the health -of the old lawyer, who suffered more or less from chronic ailments, -began to grow more feeble. His garments hung loosely upon his shrunken -limbs, while the teeth dropped from his palsied jaws. The old witch’s -curse seemed to have fallen upon the home, and, to those who looked -with apprehension for every sign and portent, it was fulfilled in many -direful ways. Early in June, Ann Emmet, an old charwoman employed -about the house, was seized with a violent illness after drinking from -a half-emptied cup left at Mr Blandy’s breakfast. A little later, -Susan Gunnel, one of the maid-servants, was affected in a similar way -through taking some tea prepared for her master. One August morning, -in the secrecy of her own chamber, trembling at every footfall beyond -the locked door, Mary Blandy gazed with eager, awestruck eyes upon a -message sent by her lover. - -“I am sorry there are such occasions to clean your pebbles,” wrote the -murderous little Scotsman. “You must make use of the powder to them, by -putting it into anything of substance, wherein it will not swim a-top -of the water, of which I wrote to you in one of my last. I am afraid it -will be too weak to take off their rust, or at least it will take too -long a time.” - -From the language of metaphor it is easy to translate the ghastly -meaning. She must have told Cranstoun that the white arsenic, which he -had sent to her under the pseudonym of ‘powder to clean the pebbles,’ -remained floating on the surface of the tea. Possibly her father had -noticed this phenomenon, and, not caring to drink the liquid, had -escaped the painful sickness which had attacked the less cautious -servants. But now she had found a remedy--‘anything of substance!’--a -safe and sure vehicle that could not fail. Louder still in the ears of -the lost woman rang the mocking words, “When the old man is dead you -shall be happy.” - -During the forenoon of Monday, the 5th of August, Susan Gunnel, the -maid, met her young mistress coming from the pantry. - -“Oh, Susan,” she exclaimed, “I have been stirring my papa’s water -gruel”; and then, perceiving other servants through the half-open door -of the laundry, she added gaily, “If I was ever to take to eating -anything in particular it would be oatmeal.” - -No response came from the discreet Susan, but she marvelled, calling to -mind that Miss Blandy had said to her some time previously, noticing -that she appeared unwell: - -“Have you been eating any water gruel? for I am told that water gruel -hurts me, and it may hurt you.” - -Later in the day, her wonder was increased when she saw her mistress -stirring the gruel in a half-pint mug, putting her fingers into the -spoon, and then rubbing them together. In the evening the same mug -was taken as usual to the old man’s bedroom. On Tuesday night Miss -Blandy sent down in haste to order gruel for her father, who had been -indisposed all day, and such was her solicitude that she met the -footman on the stairs, and taking the basin from his hands, carried -it herself into the parlour. Early the next morning, while Ann Emmet, -the old charwoman, was busy at her wash-tub, Susan Gunnel came from -upstairs. - -“Dame,” she observed, “you used to be fond of water gruel. Here is a -very fine mess my master left last night, and I believe it will do you -good.” - -Sitting down upon a bench, this most unfortunate old lady proceeded to -consume the contents of the basin, and for a second time was seized -with a strange and violent illness. Soon afterwards Miss Blandy came -into the kitchen. - -“Susan, as your master has taken physic, he may want some more water -gruel,” said she. “As there is some in the house you need not make -fresh, for you are ironing.” - -“Madam, it will be stale,” replied the servant. “It will not hinder me -much to make fresh.” - -A little later, while tasting the stuff, Susan noticed a white sediment -at the bottom of the pan. Greatly excited, she ran to show Betty -Binfield, the cook, who bore no good-will towards her young mistress. - -“What oatmeal is this?” asked Betty, significantly. “It looks like -flour.” - -“I have never seen oatmeal as white before,” said the maid. - -Carefully and thoroughly the suspicious servants examined the contents -of the saucepan, taking it out of doors to view it in the light. And -while they looked at the white gritty sediment they told each other in -low whispers that this must be poison. Locking up the pan, they showed -it next day to the local apothecary, who, as usual in those times, was -the sick man’s medical attendant. - -Nothing occurred to alarm the guilty woman until Saturday. On that -morning, in the homely fashion of middle-class manners, the lawyer, who -wanted to shave, came into the kitchen, where hot water and a good fire -were ready for him. Accustomed to his habits, the servants went about -their work as usual. Some trouble seemed to be preying upon his mind. - -“I was like to have been poisoned once,” piped the feeble old man, -turning his bloodshot eyes upon his daughter, who was in the room. - -“It was on this same day, the tenth of August,” he continued, in his -weak, trembling voice, for his frame had become shattered during the -last week. “It was at the coffee-house or at the Lyon, and two other -gentlemen were like to have been poisoned by what they drank.” - -“Sir, I remember it very well,” replied the imperturbable woman, and -then fell to arguing with her querulous father at which tavern the -adventure had taken place. - -“One of the gentlemen died immediately,” he resumed, looking at her -with a long, reproachful glance. “The other is dead now, and I have -survived them both. But”--his piteous gaze grew more intense--“it is my -fortune to be poisoned at last.” - -A similar ordeal took place in a little while. At breakfast Mr Blandy -seemed in great pain, making many complaints. As he sipped his tea, he -declared that it had a gritty, bad taste, and would not drink it. - -“Have you not put too much of the black stuff into it?” he demanded -suddenly of his daughter, referring to the canister of Bohea. - -This time she was unable to meet his searching eyes. - -“It is as usual,” she stammered in confusion. - -A moment later she rose, trembling and distressed, and hurriedly left -the room. - -There was reason for the old man’s suspicion. Before he had risen from -his bed, the faithful Susan Gunnel told him of the discovery in the pan -of water gruel, and both agreed that the mysterious powder had been -sent by Cranstoun. Yet, beyond what he had said at breakfast, and in -the kitchen, he questioned his daughter no more! Still, although no -direct charge had been made, alarmed by her father’s hints she hastened -to destroy all evidence that could be used against her. During the -afternoon, stealing into the kitchen under pretence of drying a letter -before the fire, she crushed a paper among the coals. As soon as she -was gone the watchful spies--servants Gunnel and Binfield--snatched it -away before it had been destroyed by the flames. This paper contained a -white substance, and on it was written ‘powder to clean the pebbles.’ -Towards evening famous Dr Addington arrived from Reading, summoned by -Miss Blandy, who was driven on account of her fears to show a great -concern. After seeing his patient the shrewd old leech had no doubt as -to the symptoms. With habitual directness he told the daughter that her -father had been poisoned. - -“It is impossible,” she replied. - -On Sunday morning the doctor found the sick man a little better, but -ordered him to keep his bed. Startling proofs of the accuracy of his -diagnosis were forthcoming. One of the maids put into his hands the -packet of arsenic found in the fire; while Norton the apothecary -produced the powder from the pan of gruel. Addington at once took the -guilty woman to task. - -“If your father dies,” he told her sternly, “you will inevitably be -ruined.” - -Nevertheless she appears to have brazened the matter out, but desired -the doctor to come again the next day. When she was alone, her first -task was to scribble a note to Cranstoun, which she gave to her -father’s clerk to “put into the post.” Having heard dark rumours -whispered by the servants that Mr Blandy had been poisoned by his -daughter, the man had no hesitation in opening the letter, which he -handed over to the apothecary. It ran as follows:-- - - “DEAR WILLY,--My father is so bad that I have only time to - tell you that if you do not hear from me soon again, don’t be - frightened. I am better myself. Lest any accident should happen - to your letters be careful what you write. - - “My sincere compliments.--I am ever, yours.” - -That evening Norton ordered Miss Blandy from her father’s room, -telling Susan Gunnel to remain on the watch, and admit no one. At -last the heartless daughter must have seen that some other defence -was needed than blind denial. Still, the poor old sufferer persisted -that Cranstoun was the sole author of the mischief. On Monday morning, -although sick almost to death, he sent the maid with a message to his -daughter. - -“Tell her,” said he, “that I will forgive her if she will bring that -villain to justice.” - -In answer to his words, Miss Blandy came to her father’s bedroom in -tears, and a suppliant. Susan Gunnel, who was present, thus reports the -interview. - -“Sir, how do you do?” said she. - -“I am very ill,” he replied. - -Falling upon her knees, she said to him: - -“Banish me or send me to any remote part of the world. As to Mr -Cranstoun, I will never see him, speak to him, as long as I live, so as -you will forgive me.” - -“I forgive thee, my dear,” he answered. “And I hope God will forgive -thee, but thee should have considered better than to have attempted -anything against thy father. Thee shouldst have considered I was thy -own father.” - -“Sir,” she protested, “as to your illness I am entirely innocent.” - -“Madam,” interrupted old Susan Gunnel, “I believe you must not say you -are entirely innocent, for the powder that was taken out of the water -gruel, and the paper of powder that was taken out of the fire, are now -in such hands that they must be publicly produced. I believe I had one -dose prepared for my master in a dish of tea about six weeks ago.” - -“I have put no powder into tea,” replied Miss Blandy. “I have put -powder into water gruel, and if you are injured,” she assured her -father, “I am entirely innocent, for it was given me with another -intent.” - -The dying man did not wait for further explanation, but, turning in his -bed, he cried: - -“Oh, such a villain! To come to my house, eat of the best, drink of -the best that my house could afford--to take away my life, and ruin my -daughter! Oh, my dear,” he continued, “thee must hate that man, thee -must hate the ground he treads on. Thee canst not help it.” - -“Oh, sir, your tenderness towards me is like a sword to my heart,” she -answered. “Every word you say is like swords piercing my heart--much -worse than if you were to be ever so angry. I must down on my knees and -beg you will not curse me.” - -“I curse thee, my dear!” he replied. “How couldst thou think I could -curse thee? I bless thee, and hope that God will bless thee and amend -thy life. Go, my dear, go out of my room.... Say no more, lest thou -shouldst say anything to thy own prejudice.... Go to thy uncle Stevens; -take him for thy friend. Poor man,--I am sorry for him.” - -The memory of the old servant, who repeated the above conversation -in her evidence at Miss Blandy’s trial, would seem remarkable did -we not bear in mind that she went through various rehearsals before -the coroner and magistrates, and possibly with the lawyers for the -prosecution. Some embellishments also must be credited to the taste -and fancy of Mr Rivington’s reporters. Still, the gist must be true, -and certainly has much pathos. Yet the father’s forgiveness of his -daughter, when he must have known that her conduct was wilful, although -piteous and noble, may not have been the result of pure altruism. -Naturally, the wish that Cranstoun alone was guilty was parent to the -thought. Whether the approach of eternity brought a softening influence -upon him, and he saw his follies and errors in the light of repentance, -or whether the ruling passion strong in death made the vain old man -struggle to avert the black disgrace that threatened his good name, and -the keen legal intellect, which could counsel his daughter so well, -foresaw the coming escheatment of his small estate to the lord of the -manor, are problems for the student of psychology. - -During the course of the day brother leech Lewis of Oxford--a -master-builder of pharmacopœia--was summoned by the sturdy begetter of -statesmen, and there was much bobbing of learned wigs and nice conduct -of medical canes. Addington asked the dying man whom he suspected to be -the giver of the poison. - -“A poor love-sick girl,” murmured the old lawyer, smiling through his -tears. “I forgive her--I always thought there was mischief in those -cursed Scotch pebbles.” - -In the evening a drastic step was taken. Acting on the principle of -‘thorough,’ which made his son’s occupancy of the Home Office so -memorable at a later period, the stern doctor accused Miss Blandy -of the crime, and secured her keys and papers. Conquered by fear, -the stealthy woman for a while lost all self-possession. In an agony -of shame and terror she sought to shield herself by the pretence of -superstitious folly. Wringing her hands in a seeming agony of remorse, -she declared that her lover had ruined her. - -“I received the powder from Mr Cranstoun,” she cried, “with a present -of Scotch pebbles. He had wrote on the paper that held it, ‘The powder -to clean the pebbles with.’ He assured me that it was harmless, and -that if I would give my father some of it now and then, a little and a -little at a time, in any liquid, it would make him kind to him and to -me.” - -In a few scathing questions the worldly-wise Addington cast ridicule -upon this weird story of a love philtre. Taking the law into his own -resolute hands, with the consent of colleague Lewis he locked the -wretched woman in her room and placed a guard over her. Little could be -done to relieve the sufferings of poor ten-thousand-pound Blandy--who -proved to be a mere four-thousand-pound attorney when it came to the -test--and on Wednesday afternoon, the 14th of August, he closed his -proud old eyes for ever. In her desperation the guilty daughter could -think of naught but escape. On the evening of her fathers death, -impelled by an irresistible frenzy to flee from the scene of her -butchery, she begged the footman in vain to assist her to get away. -During Thursday morning--for it was not possible to keep her in custody -without legal warrant--a little group of children saw a dishevelled -figure coming swiftly along the High Street towards the river. At once -there arose the cry of ‘Murderess!’ and, surrounded by an angry mob, -she was driven to take refuge in a neighbouring inn. It was vain to -battle against fate. That same afternoon the coroner’s inquest was -held, and the verdict pronounced her a parricide. On the following -Saturday, in charge of two constables, she was driven in her father’s -carriage to Oxford Castle. An enraged populace, thinking that she was -trying again to escape, surrounded the vehicle, and sought to prevent -her from leaving the town. - -Owing to the social position of the accused, and the enormity of her -offence, the eyes of the whole nation were turned to the tragedy at -Henley. Gossips of the day, such as Horace Walpole and Tate Wilkinson, -tell us that the story of Miss Blandy was upon every lip. In spite of -the noble irony of ‘Drawcansir’ Fielding, journalists and pamphleteers -had no scruple in referring to the prisoner as a wicked murderess or a -cruel parricide. Yet the case of Henry Coleman, who, during the August -of this year, had been proved innocent of a crime for which he had -suffered death, should have warned the public against hasty assumption. -For six months the dark woman was waiting for her trial. Although it -was the custom for a jailor to make an exhibition of his captive to -anyone who would pay the entrance fee, nobody was allowed to see Miss -Blandy without her consent. Two comfortable rooms were set apart for -her in the keeper’s house; she was free to take walks in the garden, -and to have her own maid. At last, when stories of a premeditated -escape were noised abroad, Secretary Newcastle, in a usual state of -fuss, fearing that she might repeat the achievement of Queen Maud, gave -orders that she must be put in irons. At first Thomas Newell, who had -succeeded her father as town clerk of Henley four years previously, was -employed in her defence, but he offended her by speaking of Cranstoun -as “a mean-looking, little, ugly fellow,” and so she dismissed him in -favour of Mr Rives, a lawyer from Woodstock. Her old invincible courage -had returned, and only once--when she learnt the paltry value of her -father’s fortune--did she lose self-possession. For a dismal echo must -have come back in the mocking words, “When the old man is in his grave -you shall be happy.” - -At last the magistrates--Lords Cadogan and ‘New-Style’ Macclesfield, -who had undertaken duties which in later days Mr Newton or Mr -Montagu Williams would have shared with Scotland Yard--finish their -much-praised detective work, and on Tuesday, the 3rd of March 1752, -Mary Blandy is brought to the bar. The Court meets in the divinity -school, since the town-hall is in the hands of the British workman, -and because the University, so ‘Sir Alexander Drawcansir’ tells his -readers, will not allow the use of the Sheldonian Theatre. Why the most -beautiful room in Oxford should be deemed a fitter place of desecration -than the archbishop’s monstrosity is not made clear. An accident -delays the trial--this second ‘Great Oyer of Poisoning!’ There is a -small stone or other obstruction in the lock--can some sentimental, -wry-brained undergraduate think to aid the gallows-heroine of his -fancy?--and while it is being removed, Judges Legge and Smythe return -to their lodgings. - -[Illustration: _THE DIVINITY SCHOOL, OXFORD._] - -At eight o’clock, Mary Blandy, calm and stately, stands beneath the -graceful fretted ceiling, facing the tribunal. From wall to wall an -eager crowd has filled the long chamber, surging through the doorway, -flowing in at the open windows, jostling even against the prisoner. -A chair is placed for her in case of fatigue, and her maid is by -her side. A plain and neat dress befits her serene manner--a black -bombazine short _sacque_ (the garb of mourning), white linen kerchief, -and a thick crape shade and hood. From the memory of those present -her countenance can never fade. A broad high forehead, above which -her thick jet hair is smoothed under a cap; a pair of fine black -sparkling eyes; the colouring almost of a gipsy; cheeks with scarce -a curve; mouth full, but showing no softness; nose large, straight, -determined--it is the face of one of those rare women who command, not -the love, but the obedience of mankind. Still it is intelligent, not -unseductive, compelling; and yet, in spite of the deep, flashing eyes, -without radiance of soul--the face of a sombre-hearted woman. - -Black, indeed, is the indictment that Bathurst, a venerable young -barrister who represents the Crown, unfolds against her, but only once -during his burst of carefully-matured eloquence is there any change in -her serenity. When the future Lord Chancellor declares that the base -Cranstoun “had fallen in love, not with her, but with her fortune,” the -woman’s instinct cannot tolerate the reflection upon her charms, and -she darts a look of bitterest scorn upon the speaker. And only once -does she show a trace of human softness. When her godmother, old Mrs -Mountenay, is leaving the witness-box, she repeats the curtsey which -the prisoner had previously disregarded, and then, in an impulse of -pity, presses forward, and, seizing Miss Blandy’s hand, exclaims, “God -bless you!” At last, and for the first time, the tears gather in the -accused woman’s eyes. - -Many abuses, handed down from a previous century, still render -barbarous the procedure of criminal trials. The case is hurried over in -one day; counsel for the prisoner can only examine witnesses, but not -address the jury; the prosecution is accustomed to put forward evidence -of which the defence has been kept in ignorance. Yet no injustice is -done to Mary Blandy. Thirteen hours is enough to tear the veil from her -sombre heart; the tongue of Nestor would fail to show her innocent; of -all that her accusers can say of her she is well aware. Never for one -moment is the issue in doubt. What can her scoffing, sceptic age, with -its cold-blooded sentiment and tame romance, think of a credulity that -employed a love-potion in the guise of affection but with the result -of death! How is it possible to judge a daughter who persisted in her -black art, although its dire effects were visible, not once, but many -times! Her defence, when at last it comes, is spoken bravely, but -better had been left unsaid. - -“My lords,” she begins, “it is morally impossible for me to lay down -the hardships I have received. I have been aspersed in my character. In -the first place, it has been said that I have spoke ill of my father; -that I have cursed him and wished him at hell; which is extremely -false. Sometimes little family affairs have happened, and he did not -speak to me so kind as I could wish. I own I am passionate, my lords, -and in those passions some hasty expressions might have dropt. But -great care has been taken to recollect every word I have spoken at -different times, and to apply them to such particular purposes as my -enemies knew would do me the greatest injury. These are hardships, my -lords, extreme hardships!--such as you yourselves must allow to be -so. It was said, too, my lords, that I endeavoured to make my escape. -Your lordships will judge from the difficulties I laboured under. I -had lost my father--I was accused of being his murderer--I was not -permitted to go near him--I was forsaken by my friends--affronted -by the mob--insulted by my servants. Although I begged to have the -liberty to listen at the door where he died, I was not allowed it. My -keys were taken from me, my shoe-buckles and garters too--to prevent -me from making away with myself, as though I was the most abandoned -creature. What could I do, my lords? I verily believe I was out of my -senses. When I heard my father was dead and the door open, I ran out -of the house, and over the bridge, and had nothing on but a half sack -and petticoat, without a hoop, my petticoats hanging about me. The mob -gathered about me. Was this a condition, my lords, to make my escape -in? A good woman beyond the bridge, seeing me in this distress, desired -me to walk in till the mob was dispersed. The town sergeant was there. -I begged he would take me under his protection to have me home. The -woman said it was not proper, the mob was very great, and that I had -better stay a little. When I came home they said I used the constable -ill. I was locked up for fifteen hours, with only an old servant of the -family to attend me. I was not allowed a maid for the common decencies -of my sex. I was sent to gaol, and was in hopes, there, at least, this -usage would have ended, but was told it was reported I was frequently -drunk--that I attempted to make my escape--that I never attended the -chapel. A more abstemious woman, my lords, I believe, does not live. - -“Upon the report of my making my escape, the gentleman who was High -Sheriff last year (not the present) came and told me, by order of the -higher powers, he must put an iron on me. I submitted, as I always -do to the higher powers. Some time after, he came again, and said he -must put a heavier upon me, which I have worn, my lords, till I came -hither. I asked the Sheriff why I was so ironed? He said he did it by -command of some noble peer, on his hearing that I intended to make my -escape. I told them I never had such a thought, and I would bear it -with the other cruel usage I had received on my character. The Rev. Mr. -Swinton, the worthy clergyman who attended me in prison, can testify -that I was very regular at the chapel when I was well. Sometimes I -really was not able to come out, and then he attended me in my room. -They likewise published papers and depositions which ought not to have -been published, in order to represent me as the most abandoned of my -sex, and to prejudice the world against me. I submit myself to your -lordships, and to the worthy jury. I can assure your lordships, as I -am to answer it before that Grand Tribunal where I must appear, I am -as innocent as the child unborn of the death of my father. I would not -endeavour to save my life at the expense of truth. I really thought -the powder an innocent, inoffensive thing, and I gave it to procure -his love. It was mentioned, I should say, I was ruined. My lords, -when a young woman loses her character, is not that her ruin? Why, -then, should this expression be construed in so wide a sense? Is it -not ruining my character to have such a thing laid to my charge? And -whatever may be the event of this trial, I am ruined most effectually.” - -A strange apology--amazing in its effrontery! - -Gentle Heneage Legge speaks long and tenderly, while the listeners -shudder with horror as they hear the dismal history unfolded in all -entirety for the first time. No innocent heart could have penned that -last brief warning to her lover--none but an accomplice would have -received his cryptic message. Every word in the testimony of the stern -doctor seems to hail her parricide--every action of her stealthy career -has been noted by the watchful eyes of her servants. And, as if in -damning confirmation of her guilt, there is the black record of her -flight from the scene of crime. Eight o’clock has sounded when the -judge has finished. For a few moments the jury converse in hurried -whispers. It is ominous that they make no attempt to leave the court, -but merely draw closer together. Then, after the space of five minutes -they turn, and the harsh tones of the clerk of arraigns sound through -the chamber. - -“Mary Blandy, hold up thy hand.... Gentlemen of the jury, look upon the -prisoner. How say you: Is Mary Blandy guilty of the felony and murder -whereof she stands indicted, or not guilty?” - -“Guilty!” comes the low, reluctant answer. - -Never has more piteous drama been played within the cold fair walls -of the divinity school than that revealed by the guttering candles on -this chill March night. Amidst the long black shadows, through which -gleam countless rows of pallid faces, in the deep silence, broken at -intervals by hushed sobs, the invincible woman stands with unruffled -mien to receive her sentence. As the verdict is declared, a smile seems -to play upon her lips. While the judge, with tearful eyes and broken -voice, pronounces her doom, she listens without a sign of fear. There -is a brief, breathless pause, while all wait with fierce-beating hearts -for her reply. No trace of terror impedes her utterance. Thanking the -judge for his candour and impartiality, she turns to her counsel, among -whom only Richard Aston rose to eminence, and, with a touch of pretty -forethought, wishes them better success in their other causes. Then, -and her voice grows more solemn, she begs for a little time to settle -her affairs and to make her peace with God. To which his lordship -replies with great emotion: - -“To be sure, you shall have proper time allowed you.” - -When she is conducted from the court she steps into her coach with the -air of a belle whose chair is to take her to a fashionable rout. The -fatal news has reached the prison before her arrival. As she enters -the keeper’s house, which for so long has been her home, she finds the -family overcome with grief and the children all in tears. - -“Don’t mind it,” she cries, cheerfully. “What does it matter? I am very -hungry. Pray let me have something for supper as soon as possible.” - -That sombre heart of hers is a brave one also. - -All this time William Cranstoun, worthy brother in all respects of -Simon Tappertit, had been in hiding--in Scotland perhaps, or, as some -say, in Northumberland--watching with fearful quakings for the result -of the trial. Shortly after the conviction of his accomplice he managed -to take ship to the Continent, and luckily for his country he never -polluted its soil again. There are several contemporary accounts of -his adventures in France and in the Netherlands, to which the curious -may refer. All agree that he confessed his share in the murder when -he was safe from justice. With unaccustomed propriety, our Lady Fate -soon hastened to snap the thread of his existence, and on the 3rd of -December of this same year, at the little town of Furnes in Flanders, -aged thirty-eight, he drew his last breath. A short time before, being -seized with remorse for his sins, he had given the Catholic Church the -honour of enrolling him a proselyte. Indeed the conversion of so great -a ruffian was regarded as such a feather in their cap that the good -monks and friars advertised the event by means of a sumptuous funeral. - -Worthy Judge Legge fulfils his promise to the unhappy Miss Blandy, and -she is given six weeks in which to prepare herself for death. Meek -and more softened is the sombre woman, who, like a devoted penitent, -submits herself day after day to the vulgar gaze of a hundred eyes, -while she bows in all humility before the altar of her God. Yet her -busy brain is aware that those to whom she looks for intercession -are keeping a careful watch upon her demeanour. For she has begged -her godmother Mrs Mountenay to ask one of the bishops to speak for -her; she is said to entertain the hope that the recently-bereaved -Princess will endeavour to obtain a reprieve. In the fierce war of -pamphleteers, inevitable in those days, she takes her share, playing -with incomparable tact to the folly of the credulous. Although the -majority, perhaps, believe her guilty, she knows that a considerable -party is in her favour. On the 20th of March is published “A Letter -from a Clergyman to Miss Blandy, with her Answer,” in which she tells -the story of her share in the tragedy. During the remainder of her -imprisonment she extends this narrative into a long account of the -whole case--assisted, it is believed, by her spiritual adviser, the -Rev. John Swinton, who, afflicted possibly by one of his famous fits -of woolgathering, seems convinced of her innocence. No human effort, -however, is of any avail. Both the second and third George, knowing -their duty as public entertainers, seldom cheated the gallows of a -victim of distinction. - -Originally the execution had been fixed for Saturday, the 4th of April, -but is postponed until the following Monday, because the University -authorities do not think it seemly that the sentence shall be carried -out during Holy Week. A great crowd collects in the early morning -outside the prison walls before the announcement of the short reprieve, -and it speaks marvels for the discipline of the gaol that Miss Blandy -is allowed to go up into rooms facing the Castle Green so that she can -view the throng. Gazing upon the assembly without a tremor, she says -merely that she will not balk their expectations much longer. On Sunday -she takes sacrament for the last time, and signs a declaration in which -she denies once more all knowledge that the powder was poisonous. In -the evening, hearing that the Sheriff has arrived in the town, she -sends a request that she may not be disturbed until eight o’clock the -next morning. - -It was half-past the hour she had named when the dismal procession -reached the door of her chamber. The Under-Sheriff was accompanied by -the Rev. John Swinton, and by her friend Mr Rives, the lawyer. Although -her courage did not falter, she appeared meek and repentant, and spoke -with anxiety of her future state, in doubt whether she would obtain -pardon for her sins. This penitent mood encouraged the clergyman to beg -her declare the whole truth, to which she replied that she must persist -in asserting her innocence to the end. No entreaty would induce her to -retract the solemn avowal. - -At nine o’clock she was conducted from her room, dressed in the same -black gown that she had worn at the trial, with her hands and arms -tied by strong black silk ribbons. A crowd of five thousand persons, -hushed and expectant, was waiting on the Castle Green to witness her -sufferings. Thirty yards from the door of the gaol, whence she was led -into the open air, stood the gallows--a beam placed across the arms -of two trees. Against it lay a step-ladder covered with black cloth. -The horror of her crime must have been forgotten by all who gazed upon -the calm and brave woman. For truly she died like a queen. Serene and -fearless she walked to the fatal spot, and joined most fervently with -the clergyman in prayer. After this was ended they told her that if she -wished she might speak to the spectators. - -“Good people,” she cried, in a clear, audible voice, “give me leave -to declare to you that I am perfectly innocent as to any intention -to destroy or even hurt my dear father; that I did not know, or even -suspect, that there was any poisonous quality in the fatal powder -I gave him; though I can never be too much punished for being the -innocent cause of his death. As to my mother’s and Mrs Pocock’s deaths, -that have been unjustly laid to my charge, I am not even the innocent -cause of them, nor did I in the least contribute to them. So help -me, God, in these my last moments. And may I not meet with eternal -salvation, nor be acquitted by Almighty God, in whose awful presence I -am instantly to appear hereafter, if the whole of what is here asserted -is not true. I from the bottom of my soul forgive all those concerned -in my prosecution; and particularly the jury, notwithstanding their -fatal verdict.” - -Then, having ascended five steps of the ladder, she turned to the -officials. “Gentlemen,” she requested, with a show of modesty, “do -not hang me high.” The humanity of those whose task it was to put her -to death, forced them to ask her to go a little higher. Climbing two -steps more, she then looked round, and trembling, said, “I am afraid -I shall fall.” Still, her invincible courage enabled her to address -the crowd once again. “Good people,” she said, “take warning by me -to be on your guard against the sallies of any irregular passion, and -pray for me that I may be accepted at the Throne of Grace.” While the -rope was being placed around her neck it touched her face, and she -gave a deep sigh. Then with her own fingers she moved it to one side. -A white handkerchief had been bound across her forehead, and she drew -it over her features. As it did not come low enough, a woman, who had -attended her and who had fixed the noose around her throat, stepped up -and pulled it down. For a while she stood in prayer, and then gave the -signal by thrusting out a little book which she held in her hand. The -ladder was moved from under her feet, and in obedience to the laws of -her country she was suspended in the air, swaying and convulsed, until -the grip of the rope choked the breath from her body. - -Horrible! Yet only in degree are our own methods different from those -employed a hundred and fifty years ago. - -During the whole of the sad tragedy, the crowd, unlike the howling mob -at Tyburn, maintained an awestruck silence. There were few dry eyes, -though the sufferer did not shed a tear, and hundreds of those who -witnessed her death went away convinced of her innocence. An elegant -young man named Edward Gibbon, with brain wrapped in the mists of -theology, who for three days had been gentleman commoner at Magdalen, -does not appear to have been attracted to the scene. Surely George -Selwyn must be maligned, else he would have posted to Oxford to witness -this spectacle. It would have been his only opportunity of seeing a -gentlewoman in the hands of the executioner. - -After hanging for half an hour with the feet, in consequence of her -request, almost touching the ground, the body was carried upon the -shoulders of one of the sheriff’s men to a neighbouring house. At five -o’clock in the afternoon the coffin containing her remains was taken -in a hearse to Henley, where, in the dead of night, amidst a vast -concourse, it was interred in the chancel of the parish church between -the graves of her father and mother. - -So died ‘the unfortunate Miss Blandy’ in the thirty-second year of her -age--with a grace and valour which no scene on the scaffold has ever -excelled. If, as the authors of _The Beggars Opera_ and _The History -of Jonathan Wild_ have sought to show, in playful irony, the greatness -of the criminal is comparable with the greatness of the statesman, -then she must rank with Mary of Scotland and Catherine of Russia among -the queens of crime. Hers was the soul of steel, theirs also the -opportunity. - -In every period the enormity of a sin can be estimated only by its -relation to the spirit of the age; and in spite of cant and sophistry, -the contemporaries of Miss Blandy made no legal distinction between -the crimes of parricide and petty larceny. Nay, the same rope that -strangled the brutal cut-throat in a few moments might prolong the -agony of a poor thief for a quarter of an hour. Had the doctors -succeeded in saving the life of the old attorney, the strange law which -in later times put to death Elizabeth Fenning would have been powerless -to demand the life of Mary Blandy for a similar offence. The protests -of Johnson and Fielding against the iniquity of the criminal code fell -on idle ears. - -Thus we may not judge Mary Blandy from the standpoint of our own -moral grandeur, for she is a being of another world--one of the vain, -wilful, selfish children to whom an early Guelph was king--merely -one of the blackest sheep in a flock for the most part ill-favoured. -As we gaze upon her portrait there comes a feeling that we do not -know this sombre woman after all, for though the artist has produced -a faithful resemblance, we perceive there is something lacking. -We look into part, not into her whole soul. None but one of the -immortals--Rembrandt, or his peer--could have shown this queen among -criminals as she was: an iron-hearted, remorseless, demon-woman, her -fair, cruel visage raised mockingly amidst a chiaroscuro of crime and -murkiness unspeakable. - - “a narrow, foxy face, - Heart-hiding smile, and gay persistent eye.” - -In our own country the women of gentle birth who have been convicted -of murder since the beginning of the eighteenth century may be -counted on the fingers of one hand. Mary Blandy, Constance Kent, -Florence Maybrick--for that unsavoury person, Elizabeth Jefferies, -has no claim to be numbered in the roll, and the verdict against -beautiful Madeleine Smith was ‘Not proven’--these names exhaust the -list. And of them, the first alone paid the penalty at the gallows. -The annals of crime contain the records of many parricides, some -that have been premeditated with devilish art, but scarce one that a -daughter has wrought by the most loathsome of coward’s weapons. In -comparison with the murderess of Henley, even Frances Howard and Anne -Turner were guilty of a venial crime. Mary Blandy stands alone and -incomparable--pilloried to all ages among the basest of her sex. - -Yet the world soon forgot her. “Since the two misses were hanged,” -chats Horace Walpole on the 23rd of June, coupling irreverently the -names of Blandy and Jefferies with the beautiful Gunnings--“since the -two misses were hanged, and the two misses were married, there is -nothing at all talked of.” Society, however, soon found a new thrill in -the adventures of the young woman Elizabeth Canning. - -[Illustration: Miss MARY BLANDY - -_B. Cole Sculp_ - -_Aged 33 and Executed at OXFORD April 6, 1752, for poisoning her -Father._] - - -BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE BLANDY CASE - -I. CONTEMPORARY TRACTS - -1. _An Authentic Narrative of that Most Horrid Parricide._ (Printed in -the year 1751. Name of publisher in second edition, M. Cooper.) - -2. _A Genuine and Full Account of the Parricide_ committed by Mary -Blandy, Oxford; Printed for, and sold by C. Goddard in the High St, and -sold by R. Walker in the little Old Bailey, and by all booksellers and -pamphlet Shops. (Published November 9, 1751.) - -3. _A Letter from a Clergyman to Miss Mary Blandy with her Answer -thereto_.... As also Miss Blandy’s Own Narrative. London; Printed for -M. Cooper at the Globe in Paternoster Row. 1752. Price four pence. -Brit. Mus. (March 20, 1752.) - -4. _An Answer to Miss Blandy’s Narrative._ London; Printed for W. Owen, -near Temple Bar. 1752. Price 3d. Brit. Mus. (March 27, 1752.) - -5. _The Case of Miss Blandy considered_ as a Daughter, as a -Gentlewoman, and as a Christian. Oxford; Printed for R. Baldwin, at the -Rose in Paternoster Row. Brit. Mus. (April 6, 1752.) - -6. _Original Letters to and from Miss Blandy and C---- C----_, London. -Printed for S. Johnson, near the Haymarket, Charing Cross. 1752. Brit. -Mus. (April 8, 1752.) - -7. _A Genuine and Impartial Account of the Life of Miss M. Blandy._ W. -Jackson and R. Walker. (April 9, 1752.) - -8. _Miss Mary Blandy’s Own Account._ London; Printed for A. Millar in -the Strand. 1752 (price one shilling and sixpence). N.B. The Original -Account authenticated by Miss Blandy in a proper manner may be seen -at the above A. Millar’s. Brit. Mus. (April 10, 1752. The most famous -apologia in criminal literature.) - -9. _A Candid Appeal to the Public, by a Gentleman of Oxford._ London. -Printed for J. Clifford in the Old Bailey, and sold at the Pamphleteer -Shops. 1752. Price 6d. Brit. Mus. (April 15, 1752.) - -10. _The Tryal of Mary Blandy._ Published by Permission of the Judges. -London. Printed for John and James Rivington at the Bible and Crown and -in St Paul’s Churchyard. 1752. In folio price two shillings. 8vo. one -shilling. Brit. Mus. (April 24, 1752.) - -11. _The Genuine Histories_ of the Life and Transactions of John Swan -and Eliz. Jeffries, ... and Miss Mary Blandy, London. Printed and -sold by T. Bailey opposite the Pewter-Pot-Inn in Leadenhall Street. -(Published after April 10, 1752.) - -12. _An Authentic and full History of all the Circumstances of the -Cruel Poisoning of Mr. Francis Blandy_, printed only for Mr. Wm. Owen, -Bookseller at Temple Bar, London, and R. Goadby in Sherborne. Brit. -Mus. (Without date. From pp. 113-132 the pamphlet resembles the “Answer -to Miss Blandy’s Narrative,” published also by Wm. Owen.) - -13. _The Authentic Tryals of John Swan and Elizabeth Jeffryes_.... With -the Tryal of Miss Mary Blandy, London. Printed by R. Walker for W. -Richards, near the East Gate, Oxford. 1752. Brit. Mus. (Published later -than the “Candid Appeal.”) - -14. _The Fair Parricide._ A Tragedy in three acts. Founded on a late -melancholy event. London. Printed for T. Waller, opp. Fetter Lane. -Fleet Street (price 1/). Brit. Mus. (May 5, 1752.) - -15. _The Genuine Speech of the Hon. Mr ----_, at the late Trial of Miss -Blandy, London; Printed for J. Roberts in Warwick Lane. 1752. (Price -sixpence.) Brit. Mus. (May 15, 1752.) - -16. _The x x x x Packet Broke Open_, or a letter from Miss Blandy in -the Shades below to Capt. Cranstoun in his exile above. London. Printed -for M. Cooper at the Globe in Paternoster Row. 1752. Price 6d. Brit. -Mus. (May 16, 1752.) - -17. _The Secret History of Miss Blandy._ London. Printed for Henry -Williams, and sold by the booksellers at the Exchange, in Ludgate St, -at Charing Cross, and St. James. Price 1s. 6d. Brit. Mus. (June 11, -1752. A sane and well-written account of the whole story.) - -18. _Memoires of the Life of Wm. Henry Cranstoun Esqre._ London. -Printed for J. Bouquet, at the White Hart, in Paternoster Row; 1752. -Price one shilling. Brit. Mus. (June 18, 1752.) - -19. _The Genuine Lives of Capt. Cranstoun and Miss Mary Blandy._ -London. Printed for M. Cooper, Paternoster Row, and C. Sympson at the -Bible Warehouse, Chancery Lane. 1753. Price one shilling. Brit. Mus. - -20. _Capt. Cranstoun’s Account of the poisoning of the Late Mr. Francis -Blandy._ London. Printed for R. Richards, the Corner of Bernard’s-Inn, -near the Black Swan, Holborn. Brit. Mus. (March 1-3, 1753.) - -21. _Memories of the life and most remarkable transactions of Capt. -William Henry Cranstoun._ Containing an account of his conduct in his -younger years. His letter to his wife to persuade her to disown him as -her husband. His trial in Scotland, and the Court’s decree thereto. His -courtship of Miss Blandy; his success therein, and the tragical issue -of that affair. His voluntary exile abroad with the several accidents -that befel him from his flight to his death. His reconciliation to the -Church of Rome, with the Conversation he had with a Rev. Father of the -Church at the time of his conversion. His miserable death, and pompous -funeral. Printed for M. Cooper in Paternoster Row; W. Reeve in Fleet -Street; and C. Sympson in Chancery Lane. Price 6d. With a curious print -of Capt. Cranstoun. Brit. Mus. (March 10-13, 1753. As the title-page of -this pamphlet is torn out of the copy in the Brit. Mus., it is given in -full. From pp. 3-21 the tract is identical with “The Genuine Lives,” -also published by M. Cooper.) - -22. _Parricides!_ The trial of Philip Stansfield, Gt, for the murder of -his father in Scotland, 1688. Also the trial of Miss Mary Blandy, for -the murder of her Father, at Oxford 1752. London (1810). Printed by J. -Dean, 57 Wardour St, Soho for T. Brown, 154 Drury Lane and W. Evans, 14 -Market St, St James’s. Brit. Mus. - -23. _The Female Parricide_, or the History of Mary-Margaret d’Aubray, -Marchioness of Brinvillier.... In which a parallel is drawn between -the Marchioness and Miss Blandy. C. Micklewright, Reading. Sold by J. -Newbery. Price 1/. (March 5, 1752.) - -Lowndes mentions also:-- - -24. _An Impartial Inquiry into the Case of Miss Blandy._ With -reflections on her Trial, Defence, Repentance, Denial, Death. 1753. 8vo. - -25. _The Female Parricide._ A Tragedy, by Edward Crane, of Manchester. -1761. 8vo. - -26. _A Letter from a Gentleman to Miss Blandy_ with her answer thereto. -1752. 8vo. (Possibly the same as “A Letter from a Clergyman.”) - -The two following are advertised in the newspapers of the day:-- - -27. _Case of Miss Blandy and Miss Jeffreys_ fairly stated, and -compared.... R. Robinson, Golden Lion, Ludgate Street. (March 26, 1752.) - -28. _Genuine Letters between Miss Blandy and Miss Jeffries_ before and -after their Conviction. J. Scott Exchange Alley; W. Owen, Temple Bar; -G. Woodfall, Charing Cross. (April 21, 1752.) - -29. Broadside. _Execution of Miss Blandy._ Pitts, Printer, Toy and -Marble Warehouse, 6 Great St. Andrew’s St. Seven Dials. Brit. Mus. - -30. _The Addl. MSS._, 15930. Manuscript Department in the Brit. Mus. - - -II. CONTEMPORARY NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES - -1. _Read’s Weekly Journal_, March and April (1752), February 3 (1753). - -2. _The General Advertiser_, August-November (1751), March and April -(1752). - -3. _The London Evening Post_, March and April (1752). - -4. _The Covent Garden Journal_ (Sir Alexander Drawcansir), February, -March, and April (1752). - -5. _The London Morning Penny Post_, August and September (1751). - -6. _Gentleman’s Magazine_, pp. 376, 486-88 (1751), pp. 108-17, 152, -188, 195 (1752), pp. 47, 151 (1753), p. 803, pt. II. (1783). - -7. _Universal Magazine_, pp. 114-124, 187, 281 (1752). - -8. _London Magazine_, pp. 379, 475, 512(1751), pp. 127, 180, 189(1752), -p. 89 (1753). - - -NOTES - -NOTE I.--In recent years the guilt of Cranstoun has been questioned. -Yet a supposition that does not explain two damning circumstances must -be baseless: - - (_a_) In the first place, one of his letters to Miss Blandy, - dated July 18, 1751, was read by Bathurst in his opening - speech. Although the reports of the trial do not tell us that - the note was produced in court, or that the handwriting was - verified, it cannot be presumed that the Crown lawyers were - guilty of wilful fabrication. However strange it may appear - that this letter alone escaped destruction, it is improbable - that Miss Blandy invented it. Had she done so its contents - would have been more consistent with her defence. As it stands - it is most unfavourable to her. Therefore, in the absence of - further evidence, we must conclude that the letter is genuine, - and if genuine Cranstoun was an accomplice. - - (_b_) In the second place, the paper containing the poison - which was rescued from the fire, is said by the prosecution to - have borne the inscription in Cranstoun’s handwriting, ‘Powder - to clean the pebbles’ If this had been counterfeit, Miss Blandy - would have had no object in destroying it, but would have kept - it for her purpose. - -At any cost Lord Cranstoun must have been anxious to remove the black -stain from his scutcheon. That this was impossible the fact that it was -not done seems to prove. Indeed, if Captain Cranstoun had been ignorant -of the crime, he could have proved his innocence as soon as Miss Blandy -was arrested by producing her letters, which, granting this hypothesis, -would have contained no reference that would have incriminated him. -That she had written a great deal to him was shown in evidence at the -trial by the clerk Lyttleton. - -For these reasons it is impossible to accept the conclusion of the -writer of Cranstoun’s life in the _Dic. Nat. Biog._ (who has adopted -the assertion in Anderson’s _Scottish Nation_, vol. i. p. 698), that -“apart from Miss Blandy’s statement there is nothing to convict him of -the murder.” - -NOTE II.--Anderson’s statement that “there does not appear to be any -grounds for supposing that Captain Cranstoun was in any way accessory -to the murder,” shows that he had not a complete knowledge of the facts -at his disposal, or that he did not weigh them with precision. Miss -Blandy’s intercepted letter to her lover affords a strong presumption -of his connivance, and her destruction of his correspondence suggests -that it contained incriminating details. That these two actions were -subtle devices to cast suspicion upon Cranstoun cannot be maintained -with any show of plausibility, for in this case Miss Blandy, if -dexterous enough to weave such a crafty plot, must have foreseen its -exposure, and with such exposure her own inevitable ruin, when to -prove that he was not an accomplice her lover had produced the letters -she had written to him. Thus to support such an assumption it must be -shown that Cranstoun had previously destroyed every particle of her -handwriting, and that she was aware of the fact. Of such an improbable -circumstance there is, of course, no evidence. - -NOTE III.--“Old Benchers of the Middle Temple,” _Essays of Elia_. The -relative of Miss Blandy, with whom Mr Samuel Salt was dining when -he made the unfortunate remark which Lamb repeats, may have been Mr -Serjeant Henry Stephens of Doctors’ Commons, who was her maternal uncle. - -NOTE IV.--The date of Miss Blandy’s birth is not given in the _Dic. -Nat. Biog._ From the register of Henley Parish Church it appears that -she was baptized on July 15, 1720. - -[Illustration: _Mess. Robert and Daniel_ - -PERREAU. - -_London. Publish’d Janʸ 22ᵈ 1776. According to Act of Parliament._] - - - - -THE UNFORTUNATE BROTHERS - -THE CASE OF ROBERT AND DANIEL PERREAU AND MRS MARGARET CAROLINE RUDD, -1775-6 - - “What’s this dull town to me? - Robin’s not near; - He whom I wish to see, - Wish for to hear. - Where’s all the joy and mirth, - Made life a heaven on earth? - Oh! they’re all fled with thee, - Robin Adair.” - - -When tenor Braham sent his plaintive air ringing through the town, -few were alive who could recall the two previous occasions on which -also the name of Adair was upon every lip. One day in February 1758 -all London had been stirred by the elopement of Lady Caroline Keppel, -daughter of second Earl Albemarle, with a rollicking Irish physician -who may have been the Robert of the ballad; while during the summer of -1775 the whole world was wondering whether a man or a most beautiful -woman must go to Tyburn for using the signature of Mr William Adair, -the rich army agent, cousin to Dr Robin of wedding and song. In the -first romance the hero received the just title of ‘the fortunate -Irishman’: in the latter the chief personages were ‘the unfortunate -brothers’ Messrs Robert and Daniel Perreau. Their disaster happened -thus:-- - -On a Tuesday morning, the 7th of March 1775, a slender, middle-aged -gentleman walked into the counting-house of Messrs Drummond, the great -bankers of Charing Cross. Garbed in a trim snuff-coloured suit, and -betraying none of the macaroni eccentricities with the exception of a -gold-laced hat, his dress suited the rôle that he played in life--a -sleek and prosperous apothecary. This Mr Robert Perreau of Golden -Square was welcomed cordially by Henry Drummond, one of the partners -in the firm, for an apothecary was almost as eminent as a doctor, and -the men had met and known each other at such houses as my Lord Egmont’s -or that of my Lady Lyttelton. Producing as security a bond for £7500, -bearing a signature that should have been honoured by any house in -London, the visitor requested a loan of £5000. However, strange to -say, banker Henry, who had been joined by his brother Robert, seemed -dissatisfied. - -“This bond is made payable to you,” he remarked. “Was you present when -it was executed?” - -“No, I was not present,” was Mr Perreau’s reply. - -“It is not the signature of William Adair, the late army agent of Pall -Mall,” was the startling comment of Robert Drummond. “I have seen his -drafts many a time!” - -The prim countenance of the apothecary remained unperturbed. - -“There is no doubt but it is his hand,” he answered, with perfect -composure, “for it is witnessed by Mr Arthur Jones, his solicitor, and -by Thomas Stark, his servant.” - -“It is very odd,” replied the incredulous Robert Drummond. “I have seen -his hand formerly, and this does not appear to be the least like it.” - -Brother Henry Drummond echoed the same sentiment, whereupon Mr Robert -Perreau waxed mysterious and emphatic. - -“Mr Adair is my particular friend,” he declared. “There are family -connections between us.... Mr Adair has money of mine in his hands, and -allows me interest.” - -“Come to-morrow, Mr Perreau,” said Henry Drummond, “and we will give -you an answer.” - -Having received this promise the apothecary departed, but after the -lapse of two hours he returned, and was seen by banker Henry once more. -Without the least reserve he confessed that he had been much concerned -by what the Messrs Drummond had told him. - -“I could not be easy in my mind till I had called on Mr Adair,” he -explained. “Luckily I catched him in his boots before he went to take -his ride.” - -Naturally, the good banker listened with interest, noting the words, -for it seemed odd that Mr William Adair, the rich squire of Flixton -Hall in Suffolk, whose son was carrying on the army agency, should -raise money in such a style. - -“I produced the bond to Mr Adair,” Robert Perreau continued. “It was -his signature, he said, but he might possibly have altered his hand -from the time you had seen him write.... You might let me have the -£5000, Mr Adair said, and he would pay the bond in May, though it is -not payable till June.” - -The astute banker, who had talked the matter over with his brother in -the interim, did not express his doubts so strongly. - -“Leave the bond with me,” he suggested to his visitor, “in order that -we may get an assignment of it.” - -Which proposal Mr Robert Perreau assented to readily, believing, no -doubt, that it was a preface to the payment of his money. In the -course of the day the document was shown to a friend of Mr Adair, -and finally exhibited to the agent himself. Attentive to the hour -of his appointment, Mr Perreau left his gallipots in Golden Square, -and reached the Charing Cross bank at eleven o’clock on the following -morning. Both partners were ready for him, and suggested that to clear -up all doubts it would be wise to call upon Mr William Adair without -delay. To this the apothecary assented very readily--indeed, in any -case a refusal would have aroused the worst suspicions. As it was a -wet morning, he had come in his elegant town coach, and he drove off -immediately with one of the bankers to the house of the late agent in -Pall Mall. Upon their entrance the squire of Flixton took Mr Henry -Drummond by the hand, but, to the surprise of the worthy banker, -made a bow merely to the man who had boasted him as his ‘particular -friend’ Then, the bond being produced, Mr Adair at once repudiated the -signature. For the first time Robert Perreau betrayed astonishment. - -“Surely, sir,” cried he, “you are jocular!” - -A haughty glance was the sole response of the wealthy agent. - -“It is no time to be jocular when a man’s life is at stake,” retorted -the indignant Henry Drummond. “What can all this mean? The person you -pretend to be intimate with does not know you.” - -“Why, ’tis evident this is not Mr Adair’s hand,” added his brother, who -had just arrived, with similar warmth, pointing to the forged name. - -“I know nothing at all of it,” protested the confused apothecary. - -“You are either the greatest fool or the greatest knave I ever saw,” -the angry banker continued. “I do not know what to make of you.... You -must account for this.... How came you by the bond?” - -Then there was a hint that a constable had been summoned, and it would -be best to name his accomplices. - -“How came you by the bond?” repeated Mr Drummond. - -At last the bewildered Mr Perreau seemed to realise the gravity of his -position. - -“That will appear,” he replied, in answer to the last remark, “if you -will send for my sister.” - -“Who may she be?” - -“Why, my brother Mr Daniel Perreau’s wife.” - -Calling his servant, the apothecary bade him take the coach for his -sister-in-law, who, he said, might be at her home in Harley Street, but -most likely with his wife at his own house in Golden Square. It was -evident that the carriage did not go farther than the latter direction, -for in a short time it brought back the lady, who was ushered into the -room. Then indeed the hearts of those three hard-pated men of finance -must have been softened, for their eyes could have rested upon no more -dazzling vision of feminine loveliness within the British Isles. Of -medium height, her figure was shaped in the robust lines of graceful -womanhood, but the face, which beamed with an expression of childish -innocence, seemed the daintiest of miniatures, with tiny, shell-like -features, and the clearest and fairest skin. In the fashion of the -time her hair was combed upward, revealing a high forehead, and the -ample curls which fell on either side towards her neck nestled beneath -the smallest of ears. Without a tinge of colour, her complexion was -relieved only by her red lips, but the healthy pallor served to -heighten her radiant beauty. A thin tight ribbon encircled her slender -neck. Below the elbow the close sleeves of her polonese terminated in -little tufts of lace, while long gloves concealed her round, plump -arms. Dress, under the influence of art, was beginning to cast off its -squalor. - -Grasping the situation in a moment, this lovely Mrs Daniel Perreau -asked if she might speak with her brother-in-law alone, but the -request was refused. Then the beauty, making full use of her shining -blue eyes, besought Mr Adair to grant her a private interview. But the -old man--not such a gay dog as kinsman Robin--was proof against these -blandishments. - -“You are quite a stranger to me,” he answered, “and you can have no -conversation that does not pass before these gentlemen.” - -For a short time the beautiful woman appeared incapable of reason. At -last she seemed to make a sudden decision. - -“My brother Mr Perreau is innocent,” she cried, in an agony of -distress. “I gave him the bond.... I forged it!... For God’s sake, have -mercy on an innocent man. Consider his wife and children.... Nobody was -meant to be injured. All will be repaid.” - -“It is a man’s signature,” objected one of the bankers. “How could you -forge it?” - -Seizing a pen and sheet of paper, she imitated the name on the bond -with such amazing fidelity that all were convinced. Then, according to -promise, Robert Drummond destroyed the writing, for he, at least, was -determined that no advantage should be taken of her confidence. - -Little information was gained from Daniel Perreau--twin brother of the -apothecary--who had been summoned from his spacious home in Harley -Street, save shrugs of shoulders and words of surprise. Between him -and Robert there was a striking likeness. Both were handsome and -well-proportioned men, but a full flavour of macaroni distinguished the -newcomer--a ‘fine puss gentleman’ of the adventurous type. To him dress -was as sacred as to his great predecessor, Mr John Rann of the Sixteen -Strings, who only a few months previously had met with a fatal accident -near the Tyburn turnpike. Indeed, the macaroni was as great an autocrat -as the dandy of later days, and princes, parsons, and highwaymen -alike became members of his cult. So the gentleman from Harley Street, -flourishing his big stick, and shaking the curled chignon at the back -of his neck, tried with success to look a great fool. - -Quite appropriately, it was the woman who determined the result. Less -dour than the squire of Flixton, the two bankers had no objection to -accompany her into an adjacent room, where they listened with sympathy -to her prayers. Being younger men than Mr Adair, they were full of -respect for her brave deed of self-accusation, moved by the piteous -spectacle of beauty in tears. In the end, confident that she spoke the -truth, they began to regard Robert Perreau as her innocent dupe. So the -constable was sent away, for macaroni Daniel seemed too great an idiot -to arrest, and it was preposterous to dream of locking up his lovely -wife. Thus the three grave financiers promised that the adventure -should be forgotten, and the Messrs Perreau drove away from the house -in Pall Mall in Robert’s coach, assured that they had escaped from a -position which might have cost them their lives. Almost as clever as -she was beautiful was this charming Mrs Daniel Perreau. - -Surely, all but a fool would have tried to blot the incident from his -mind, content that the gentlemen concerned believed his honour to be -unsullied, too humane to betray a pretty sister into the bloody hands -of justice--all but a fool, or a _criminal_ seeking to escape by -sacrificing an accomplice! Yet Mr Robert Perreau, although anything but -a fool, would not rest. Without delay he sought advice from a barrister -friend, one Henry Dagge, with the amazing result that on the following -Saturday forenoon, the 11th of March, he appeared before Messrs Wright -and Addington at the office in Bow Street to lay information against -‘the female forger’ Luckily, the magistrates took the measure of -the treacherous apothecary, and committed him as well as the lady to -the Bridewell at Tothill Fields. On the next day, fop Daniel--a base -fellow, who had acted as decoy while his brother was effecting the -betrayal--was sent to keep them company. It was a rueful hour for the -two Perreaus when they tried to pit their wits against a woman. - -On Wednesday morning, the 15th of March, in expectation that the three -distinguished prisoners would appear before Sir John Fielding, the -Bow Street court was besieged by so large a crowd that it was deemed -prudent to adjourn to more commodious quarters in the Guildhall, -Westminster. Surprising revelations were forthcoming. It was found that -the forgery discovered seven days ago was only one of many. Two other -persons--Dr Brooke and Admiral Sir Thomas Frankland--less cautious than -the Drummonds, came forward to declare that they had obliged their -friend Mr Perreau by discounting similar bonds, all of which bore the -signature of William Adair! Plain indeed was the motive of Robert’s -betrayal. It was not enough that the bankers should forgive him--it was -needful that the woman must answer as scapegoat for much more. - -Never had a fairer prisoner stood before the blind magistrate than -the intended victim. Above a striped silk gown she wore a pink cloak -trimmed with ermine, and a small black bonnet--as usual, daintiest of -the dainty, in spite of her tears and shame. Hitherto, she had given -splendid proofs of courage and loyalty, but treachery had changed her -heart to stone, and she lent herself to a cunning revenge. A youthful -barrister named Bailey, who was hovering around Bow Street soon after -her arrest, had been lucky enough to be accepted as her counsel. -Clever almost as his client--in spite of contemporary libels from Grub -Street, that repute him more intimate with Ovid’s _Art of Love_ -than Glanvill or Bracton--he came forward with the naïve suggestion -that she should be admitted as evidence for the Crown! And a witness -she was made there and then, two days later being let loose on bail, -which created a very pretty legal causerie in a little while. On the -other hand, the unhappy brothers were committed to the New Prison, -Clerkenwell, on the capital charge of forgery. All this was very -welcome entertainment for the fashionable mob that crushed into the -Westminster Guildhall. - -[Illustration: MARGARET CAROLINE RUDD] - -The repartee of one of Sir John’s myrmidons, often quoted by wags of -the time as an excellent joke, is not without its moral. One of the -doorkeepers refused entrance to a certain person on the ground that he -had been told to admit only gentlemen. - -“That is Mr ----, the great apothecary,” quoth a bystander. - -“Oh!” returns the doorkeeper, “if that’s the case, he must on no -account go in, for my orders extend only to gentlemen, and the whole -room is filled with apothecaries already.” - -It would have been well for Robert Perreau had he held no more exalted -opinion of his station in life than the Bow Street officer. - -To the delight of all the _bon ton_, the scent of scandal rose hot -into the air. The charming lady who had passed as the wife of Daniel -Perreau proved to be his mistress. Although she had lived with him for -five years, bearing him no less than three children, her real name was -Margaret Caroline Rudd, whose lawful husband was still alive. Being the -daughter of an apothecary in the North of Ireland, by his marriage with -the love-child of a major of dragoons, who was a member of the Scottish -house of Galloway, her boast that the blood of Bruce ran in her veins -was strictly true, in spite of the scoffs and jeers with which it was -hailed by her enemies. Early in the year 1762, when only seventeen, she -had married a dissolute lieutenant of foot, named Valentine Rudd, the -son of a grocer at St Albans. Soon his society proved distasteful, and -the fair Margaret Caroline eloped with a more congenial partner. During -the next few years she lived the life of a Kitty Fisher or a Fanny -Murray--a gilt-edged Cyprian--selling her favours, like Danae, for -no less than a shower of gold. Of all her patrons, the most faithful -and generous by far was a rich Jew moneylender named Salvadore, whose -name remains still as a landmark in the purlieus of the metropolis. -Good Lord Granby is said to have visited her out of mere affection. -Among others, it was whispered that Henry Frederick, a gentleman of -easy virtue, like all Dukes of Cumberland, became one of her intimate -friends. Possibly she may have listened to couplets from the _Essay on -Women_, for patriot Wilkes, the member of Parliament for the county of -Middlesex, is believed to have cultivated her society, going to the -extent of finding her a home at Lambeth. Peers flocked to Hollen Street -or Meard’s Court to pay her homage. A favourite device of hers was to -impersonate a boarding-school miss or a lady of quality. Few women -of pleasure have possessed the fertile imagination of Mrs Margaret -Caroline Rudd. - -In May 1770 she met the foolish Daniel Perreau--not stupid from the -woman’s point of view, since he was a dashing dog with a taste for all -the pleasant things in life--and in an unlucky moment she accepted -him as her protector. However, in other respects, although he had -travelled far over the world, his intellect was no mate for hers. In -business he had been a failure both at home and abroad. Three times, it -is recorded, he was obliged to make composition with his creditors. -Only a fortnight before his alliance with the bewitching Irishwoman -his certificate of bankruptcy had been signed. Still, he was a man -suited to the fair Margaret’s taste, handsome, gay, and genteel, with -a complacency that paid no regard to her methods of raising money--a -partner, in short, who gave her back the status in society that she had -forfeited. - -Naturally, Daniel was more than satisfied with his beautiful companion, -allowing her to pass as his lawful wife, forming an establishment -for her in Pall Mall Court--the cost of which, since Salvadore and -others were as lavish as ever, she appears to have provided. Golden -dreams had captured his silly brain, and he believed that Exchange -Alley would bring a more propitious fortune than vulgar trade. Funds -could be obtained from his dear Mrs Rudd. Secret news from the French -Embassy was furnished by his confederate, one Colonel Kinder--an Irish -soldier. It would be easy to cut a brilliant figure at Jonathan’s, and -restore his shattered credit. Thus, relying upon certain information, -he insured the chances of war with Spain; but the Falkland Island -convention happened to bring peace, and Daniel Perreau suffered his -first big loss in the Alley. - -Still, this did not deter him, for the finances of Mrs Rudd seemed -inexhaustible, and sometimes he made a lucky stroke himself. In -addition to her pretended fortune, which Daniel knew was not bequeathed -by any relative, she declared to her friends that a windfall had come -to her in the shape of an annuity of £800 a year from Mr James Adair, -the wealthy linen-factor of Soho Square. This kinsman of the Pall Mall -agent chanced to be acquainted with the maternal uncle of Margaret -Caroline Youngson--a tenant farmer of Balimoran, County Down, John -Stewart by name, another unlawful offspring, possibly, of the amorous -major of the house of Galloway--and, after the custom of a man of the -world, as he is described, he became even more interested than the -royal duke in the fortunes of the pretty niece. It is doubtful whether -his generosity reached the sum named, but with so many sources of -income strict accuracy in detail may have been difficult to Mrs Rudd. -Indeed, the despicable Daniel Perreau did not require them. It was a -great thing to boast at Jonathan’s that his wife was a connection of -one of the great Adairs. With such a surety funds might be borrowed -easily. - -Apparently, being much attached to her protector, Margaret Rudd was -quite content to live with him in their humble quarters in Pall Mall -Court, and to present him at appropriate intervals with pledges of -their mutual ardour. Probably she shared his golden visions, hoping for -future affluence. At all events, she gained no monetary advantage from -the connection. Moreover, it was not until the beginning of the fatal -year that she was mistress even of a house of her own, for the elegant -residence on the west side of Harley Street was purchased on the 31st -of December 1774. - -Brother Robert watched with amazement the progress of the fortunes of -his twin, for it was wonderful that bankrupt Daniel should be able to -live in decent lodgings with a stylish lady, to pursue fashion in all -its vagaries, and to throw about money in the Alley. A different man -this Robert--solemn, laborious, and intelligent, making a hard-earned -income of a thousand pounds a year. Nevertheless, his soul soared above -his gallipots. It was his ambition to make a figure in the world, so -that his wife could woo society with drums, routs, hurricanes. When he -looked around he saw that fortunes were being won on every side. A wave -of prosperity was bearing the empire on its crest. The Great Commoner -had wrenched America and India from the hereditary enemy. To these vast -markets British seamen were carrying the exports of their country. At -home, the clever inventors of the North, Watt and Arkwright, Hargreaves -and Brindley, had increased the powers of production a thousandfold. -England was setting up shop on a scale undreamt of hitherto in the -world’s philosophy. Why spend one’s life in dispensing pukes and -boluses, thought apothecary Robert, when the Alley is open to all who -dare take advantage of this golden age? - -Since this was his character, brother Daniel and his pretty _chère -amie_ soon tempted the misguided man to share their fortunes, glad to -seek the cover of his reputable name to fashion new and more desperate -schemes. For earls and bishops were clients of the apothecary, and -‘honest Perreau’ was one of his appellations. Yet to preserve the -co-operation of such respectability a pleasant little piece of fiction -had to be maintained. Brother Robert, not a fool by any means, was -willing to assist their plans, but only in the character of an -ingenuous agent; a method--as, no doubt, he pointed out--that must -disarm all suspicion. Thus, when he canvassed his friends to advance -money on bonds in pursuance of the new policy, he would be able to pose -as the emissary of his sister-in-law Mrs Daniel Perreau and her doting -relatives Messrs James and William Adair. Indeed, there was a letter -in his pocket, authorising some such scheme, which, not being penned -by the Pall Mall agent, probably was the work of the clever woman who -could give imitations of other people’s handwriting. Such a letter -would be useful in case his possession of an Adair bond was questioned, -but most useful of all--and this most certainly Mr Robert Perreau would -not point out to his confederates--in making him appear a guileless -dupe in the hands of an artful woman. Very cleverly had he arranged -the saving of his own skin, this sly, precise apothecary. - -For no game could be more hazardous than the one which the guilty trio -continued to pursue. Forgery was needful to cover forgery. As one bond -became payable another had to be discounted to provide the money. A -couple of bonds to the value of nearly £8000 were cashed by banker -Mills in the City. On two others the large sums of £4000 and £5000 had -been advanced by Sir Thomas Frankland. In this way more than a dozen -were negotiated during the twelve months that preceded the discovery. -All were signed with the name of the army agent--the pretended -benefactor of Daniel’s wife--and their total value reached the huge -sum of £70,000. Thus the Perreaus had been able to continue their -speculations in Exchange Alley. Their sole chance of coming out of the -mischief scot free was a lucky stroke at Jonathan’s, or the death of -one of their victims. - -Public interest in the case was aroused no less by the personality of -the prisoners than by the mystery surrounding the actual criminal. -For the brothers on one side, and Mrs Rudd on the other, told two -wonderful and contradictory stories. This most artful of women, whined -the Messrs Perreau, using consummate guile, had revealed to them -gradually a dazzling and enticing prospect. First Mr James and then -Mr William Adair was represented as the lavish benefactor of their -beautiful relative. Yet such was the modesty of these capitalists, -that although they declared their intention of procuring a baronetcy -for Daniel, and an estate in the country for Robert, besides setting -up the twins as West-End bankers, they would communicate with Mrs -Rudd alone! Moreover, such was the impecuniosity of these wealthy men -that they were able to carry out their benevolent intentions only by -the aid of notes of hand! However, the brothers protested that these -assurances had been given to them by the lady, and that all the forged -bonds had been received from the fair Margaret Caroline by innocent -Daniel or ingenuous Robert, in the belief that the Messrs Adair, who -had signed them, intended a gratuitous present. A most happy stroke of -luck, coinciding fortunately with the period of their bold speculations -at Jonathan’s! Yet what was Mrs Rudd’s motive in running these risks -to provide funds from which she received little benefit, was not made -clear. - -Even more wondrous was the other story. Although her conduct at the -house in Pall Mall--whether we deem her guilty or innocent--showed -something of nobility, she had no mercy for her confederates after they -had played her false. While confessing once more that she had forged -the bond which the Drummonds had rejected, she declared that her keeper -Daniel had forced her to do so by standing over her with an open knife, -threatening to cut her throat unless she obeyed. An incredible story, -but no more improbable than the other! With the exception of this -compulsory forgery, Mrs Rudd avowed that she was innocent. Amidst all -this publicity it is likely that poor Mr James Adair, who had been very -much the lady’s friend in former days, would have an unpleasant time -with Mrs James Adair, and with his son, young Mr Serjeant James, M.P., -the rising barrister! - -Such an entertainment was a novel and delightful experience for the -British public. Since the wonderful time (fourteen summers ago) when -mad Earl Ferrers had made his exit at Tyburn in a gorgeous wedding -dress, and amidst funereal pomp, the triple tree seldom had been graced -by the appearance of gentlefolk. Broker Rice, whose shady tricks at -the Alley made him the victim of Jack Ketch three years after his -lordship, was almost the only respectable criminal who had been hanged -for more than a decade. Indeed, except Mother Brownrigg and Jack of the -Sixteen Strings, no criminal of note had dangled from a London scaffold -since the days of Theodore Gardelle. Yet a glorious era was dawning -for the metropolitan mob, when, in quick succession, Dodd, Hackman, -and Ryland were to journey down the Oxford Road--the golden age of the -gallows, when George III. was king! - -On Friday, the Ist of June, Robert Perreau was put to the bar at the -Old Bailey. Owing to ill-health he had been allowed to remain in the -Clerkenwell prison, and was not taken to Newgate until the morning of -his trial--a privilege shared also by his brother. The President of the -Court was Sir Richard Aston, who, as a junior of the Oxford circuit, -had helped to defend the unfortunate Miss Blandy. By his side sat the -Right Honourable John Wilkes, Lord Mayor of London, a quite tame City -patriot now almost ready for the royal embraces, very different from -the Wilkes winged by pistol-practising Martin, M.P., and hounded by -renegade Jemmy Twitcher. This same City patriot--if we may credit one -of Dame Rumour’s quite credible stories--whispered into the ear of the -judge the most important words spoken during the trial:--“My lord, you -can convict these men without the woman’s evidence.... It is a shocking -thing that she should escape unpunished, as she must if you call her as -a witness!” Which advice--if the lady had been as kind to ‘squinting -Jacky’ as the world believed--shows that he was rising on stepping -stones of Medmenham Abbey to higher things. At all events, instead -of summoning Mrs Rudd into the box, the judge startled the world by -ordering her to be detained in Newgate. - -In spite of the efforts of his counsel and his friends, the Court -did not put the least faith in the wily apothecary, refusing to -believe that he had been ignorant of his brother’s relationship to his -mistress, or, if this were true, that an innocent man would obtain -cash for a succession of huge bonds, drawn on the well-known house -of Adair, at the bidding of a woman without making inquiries. Even -granting that he was so credulous as to remain silent when he saw that -suspicion was aroused, it was clear that no man of honour would strive -to stifle mistrust by telling lies. Then there were other compromising -circumstances. It was apparent that the Perreaus needed money to repay -certain bonds that were falling due. Robert had antedated the latest -forgery to make it agree with one of his falsehoods to the Messrs -Drummond, for in the previous January he had endeavoured to obtain -money from them by a fictitious story. Not only did the employment of a -scrivener have no weight in his favour, but pointed to premeditation. -In the face of these facts his guilt seemed clear. Notwithstanding an -eloquent defence written for him by Hugh M’Auley Boyd, in which he -protested that he had received the bonds from Mrs Rudd in good faith, -the jury required no more than five minutes to return a hostile verdict. - -At nine o’clock on the following morning there were similar dealings -with brother Daniel. Seeing that his case was hopeless, he did not -deliver the elaborate address that had been prepared, choosing to print -it, like Pope’s playwright. Naturally, his expectations were fulfilled, -and he was found guilty of forging one of the bonds in the name of -William Adair, on which his friend Dr Brooke had lent him £1500. On the -6th of June, at the close of the Old Bailey sessions, he was sentenced -to death along with Robert by Recorder Glynn, while on the same day Mrs -Rudd was told that as bail could not be granted, she must remain in -prison. In spite of their dishonesty, and still baser treachery, it is -impossible to think of the cruel sentence of the unfortunate Perreaus -without a thrill of horror. Yet no qualms disturbed the tranquil -conscience of King George, who believed he was doing the Lord’s work in -hanging men and women for a paltry theft. - -The charming Mrs Rudd was not disposed of so easily as her unlucky -confederates. From April onwards she had attracted more attention -than the skirmishes with our rebellious colonists at Bunker’s Hill -and Lexington. While she was at large and the brothers were under -lock and key, public sympathy had remained on their side. Moreover, -her tactics were not too reputable, and until it was evident that she -was struggling in her prison with the valour of desperation against -overwhelming odds, popular compassion did not condone her shifty -methods. Still, whatever her guilt, she waged her long battle with -surpassing dexterity. - -One of the foremost of her foes, and not the least dangerous, was -George Kinder, the Irish colonel--Daniel’s emissary in the unlucky -touting at the back stairs of the French Embassy--a gentleman who had -sought vainly to win the good graces of Miss Polly Wilkes. There was no -false delicacy about this warrior, as the letters in the _Morning Post_ -under pseudonyms ‘Jack Spry’ and ‘No Puffer’ bear ample testimony, and -soon he had made the whole world familiar with the amatory history of -Margaret Youngson. Yet Colonel Kinder was too reckless in the delivery -of his attacks, and, like many another dashing soldier, he found -himself often outflanked. For Mrs Rudd wielded her pen brilliantly, and -her replies to critics of the press were not unworthy--both in style -and context--of a novelist of later days. At all events, the vulgar -diatribes of Colonel Kinder helped to bring popular sympathy to the -side of his fair antagonist, and this is precisely what the clever lady -must have foreseen. - -Another enemy, as inveterate as the Irishman himself, appeared in -the person of a rough-and-ready sea-dog, ex-Admiral Sir Thomas -Frankland--whom the Perreaus had swindled out of thousands of pounds--a -lineal descendant of Protector Cromwell. More truculent even than his -great ancestor--for surely Oliver never confiscated ruff or farthingale -belonging to Henrietta Maria--he pounced upon Mrs Rudd’s clothes, and -indeed upon all property that might help to repay his loans. Remaining -loyal to his old friend the Golden Square apothecary--for the choleric -gentleman was convinced that he was an innocent instrument in the -hands of the woman--he seized anything that Daniel and his mistress -happened to possess. In consequence of this brigandage there was a -pitched battle between the employees of the admiral and the sheriff’s -officers for the possession of the house in Harley Street, in which -the former got the worst of the tussle. Running amuck at all who -took the other side--Barrister Bailey, Uncle Stewart, the Keeper of -the Lyon Records--each in turn received a broadside from the fiery -old salt. Shiver-me-timbers Frankland--this Paul Pry of a lady’s -wardrobe--wrought more good out of evil to the cause of Margaret Rudd -than any other man, and his fair enemy was nothing loth to let him run -to the top of his bent. - -Nowhere was the diplomacy of Daniel Perreau’s mistress more remarkable -than in the negotiations with her old servant, Mrs Christian Hart. -Early in July there was an interview between the pair in Newgate: -the handmaid compassionate and pliable; the prisoner full of subtle -schemes against her enemies. Barrister Bailey was present, and a -lengthy document was drawn up--a paper of instructions in the form of a -narrative for the guidance of the faithful ‘Christy’--wherein was set -forth the details of a wicked conspiracy, which the servant was to -pretend that she had overheard, between old sea-dog Frankland and Mrs -Robert Perreau to swear away Mrs Rudd’s life. Promising to learn her -story and stick to the text, Mrs Hart went away with her manuscript; -but, frightened by her husband or bribed by the admiral, in a little -while she deserted to the other side. In no wise dismayed, Margaret -Rudd retorted that ‘Christy’ had volunteered the story, and that the -instructive document was a faithful copy of the woman’s narrative as -dictated by herself, another copy of which she produced, attested by -the faithful Bailey. Moreover, she alleged that the whole business -was a thing devised by the Perreaus for the purpose of compromising -their enemy, a most dexterous plot to make it appear that Mrs Rudd -was endeavouring to create false evidence! Thus, even when the first -scheme failed, she gained the effect desired by its very failure. Poor, -persecuted woman, thought the big-hearted British public, and what a -shocking old admiral! - -A little later, the fair captive in Newgate triumphed over another -enemy, one Hannah Dalboux, a second domestic. This Hannah had been -nurse to the youngest of Daniel Perreau’s children since the mother -had been put in prison. One morning in August the newspapers announced -that the woman had refused to surrender the child, and that the woman’s -husband had tried to thrash the inevitable Mr Bailey when he paid a -visit with his client’s request. “The baby shall be given up when I am -paid for its board and lodging,” was the sum and substance of Hannah’s -ultimatum. All the same the child had to be delivered to its rightful -owner, and husband Dalboux was locked up for the assault. A great -opportunity, indeed, which Mrs Rudd did not neglect. All the journals -were full of hints concerning the horrid old admiral, who had employed -people to steal the lady’s baby as well as her petticoats--about the -last two things in the world a swell mobsman would choose, unless they -were accompanied by the proprietress. Yet the salient fact, remembered -by the British public in a little while, was that this inveterate -sea-dog was the prosecutor at Mrs Rudd’s trial. - -The well-known anecdote told of her by Horace Walpole, must, if true, -have reference to an incident that occurred during her imprisonment in -Newgate. - -“Preparatory to her trial, she sent for some brocaded silks to a -mercer. She pitched on a rich one, and ordered him to cut off the -proper quantity, but the mercer, reflecting that if she was hanged, as -was probable, he should never be paid, pretended he had no scissors. -She saw his apprehensions, pulled out her pocket-book, and giving him a -bank-note for £20, said, ‘There is a pair of scissors.’ Such quickness -is worth a hundred screams. We have no Joans of Arc nor Catherines de -Medici, but this age has heroines after its own fashion.” - -Whenever a Gordian knot presented itself the undaunted Mrs Rudd was -always ready with a pair of scissors! - -Like all other popular entertainers, the fair Margaret Caroline had -rivals in the public favour. On the nineteenth of August, “one of the -prettiest young women in England,” Jane Butterfield by name, was tried -for her life at Croydon on a charge of poisoning a foully-diseased -old man for whom she kept house. Paramour also to this rotten William -Scawen was Miss Jane, debauched by him when a child. Although the poor -girl was acquitted amidst tears and huzzas, she lost the fortune that -should have come to her, for her protector, who had listened to the -accusations of his Dr Sanxy--the instigator of all the proceedings -against the innocent Jane--lived long enough, unhappily, to cross her -out of his will. For a while all England forgot Margaret Rudd in its -generous sympathy for the beautiful heroine of Croydon. Soon also -the ubiquitous Elizabeth Chudleigh monopolised public attention, to -the exclusion of everyone else, under her new rôle as Her Grace of -Kingston; while the sex of the mysterious Chevalier D’Eon continued to -be the subject of many wagers. - -For six months Mrs Rudd remained a prisoner in Newgate--from the day of -Robert Perreau’s condemnation on the 1st of June until the morning of -her own trial on the 8th of December--using every endeavour so that she -should not be brought to the judgment-seat. A few weeks after the close -of the summer sessions--on the fourth day of July--she was summoned to -Westminster Hall to listen to the ruling of Chief-Justice Mansfield, -an unrivalled exponent of amazing decisions, with regard to her status -as king’s evidence. Superfine, indeed, was the quality of Mansfield’s -red tape:--“The woman did not confess that she was an accomplice, -but an assistant by compulsion, therefore she may be presumed to be -innocent, consequently there is no reason why she should not be tried! -Only a _guilty_ person can be admitted as a witness for the Crown!” -Yet the great Chief-Justice had a more cogent reason still--one that -is irrefutable: “Since the lady did not disclose _all_ she knew, she -has forfeited indulgence!” Quite proper, no doubt, in a legal sense, -but foreign to the eternal ethics of British equity, that has permitted -‘burker’ Hare to escape the halter, believing that it is monstrous to -ask a jury to try a prisoner from whom a confession has been extorted -under promise of pardon. There was no false delicacy about the learned -Mansfield’s interpretation of the law. - -However, his lordship was the autocrat of all bigwigs, and none but the -most stout-hearted ventured to challenge his decisions. When the case -was argued by her counsel before three judges, sitting as a Court of -Gaol Delivery in the middle of September, one Henry Gould, who feared a -Chief-Justice as little as a Gordon riot, appears to have realised -that the law must keep its faith. So he gave a flat contradiction to -the ruling of the King’s Bench. “How can we know that the woman was -cognisant of any other forgery than the one to which she has confessed -unless we bring her to trial?” demanded this judge Gould. “And if we -bring her to trial we break our word!” Nevertheless his two colleagues, -remembering possibly the Mansfield temper and the Mansfield tongue, -maintained the arguments of the Chief-Justice, and thus it was decreed -that Mrs Rudd must go before a jury. Early in November twelve judges -assented to this decision. - -[Illustration: _Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd at the Bar of the Old Bailey - -Published dec.ʳ 15.ᵗʰ 1775 according to Act of Parliament_] - -Confident that her long struggle had not been futile, since this breach -of faith must shock the public mind, the beautiful prisoner prepared -to face her terrible ordeal. In a letter from Strawberry Hill we catch -a glimpse of her on the eve of her trial. “... She sent her lawyer a -brief of which he could not make head nor tail. He went to her for one -more clear. ‘And do you imagine’ said she, ‘that I will trust you or -any attorney in England with the truth of my story? Take your brief: -meet me in the Old Bailey, and I will ask you the necessary questions.’ -...” And when the time came she kept her promise to help him through. - -On Friday, the 8th of December, she was placed in the dock at the Old -Bailey. During her long imprisonment the popular sympathy had come over -to her side, and a friendly crowd filled the galleries before daybreak. -With much tenderness Judge Aston explained to her the reason that she -was put to the bar, his chief argument being the elusive one that she -had not spoken the _whole_ truth before the magistrates. No woman could -have been more dignified or composed. An air of melancholy rested on -her beautiful face, which appeared more pale in contrast to her garb of -mourning. A silk polonese cloak, lined with white persian, was thrown -round her shoulders. Beneath, her gown was black satin, _appliquée_ -with wreaths of broad silken ribbons, her skirt draped upon the small -hoop worn with an evening toilet. Above the tall head-dress demanded by -fashion, a white gauze cap, dotted with small knots of black, rested -lightly upon her powdered curls. It was almost the same costume that -she had worn before the three judges. - -Only for a short time were the spectators in doubt as to the result of -the trial. None of the evidence was convincing; each witness seemed -more feeble than his predecessor. Serjeant Davy, rough and ready, tore -their statements to tatters. To the jury Mrs Robert Perreau seemed -eager to swear aught that might save the life of her unhappy husband. -Admiral Frankland, in the face of his petticoat theft, appeared to have -pressed the prosecution out of greed and for the sake of revenge. John -Moody, a footman discharged by the prisoner, must have been regarded, -very properly, as a barefaced liar. The famous Christian Hart, another -old servant with a grudge, who was answered on all points by the -evidence of the indefatigable Bailey, could prove nothing concerning -the forgery cited in the indictment. - -All the while Mrs Rudd kept on passing notes to her counsel--more than -fifty in number--suggesting questions to baffle the hostile witnesses. -The trial lasted for nearly twelve hours. When the jury returned -into court, after an absence of thirty minutes, Henry Angelo, the -fencing-master, saw the gay auctioneer who was the foreman throw a -meaning smile towards the beautiful prisoner. “Not guilty according to -the evidence before us!” declared the jury, while the court thundered -with applause. At last her bitter ordeal was over, and Margaret Rudd, -smiling through her tears, stepped gaily into a coach that was waiting -at the door of Old Bailey. Then she was driven, post haste, to her new -home with the wicked Lord Lyttelton. Certainly this charming and clever -woman was far from being too good to live. - -Naturally, the acquittal of Mrs Rudd determined the fate of the -unfortunate twins, who had been kept alive all this time pending the -result of her trial. Only in one way could Robert, deemed the less -guilty, have been spared. Had Daniel confessed that he was the forger, -exonerating his brother, probably a pardon would have been granted. Not -being built, however, after the fashion of martyrs, he continued to -make frantic protests of innocence, thereby sealing the doom of both. -For arguments that were incredible merely in the case of the apothecary -became preposterous when applied to Daniel. Yet the loyalty of Robert -was admirable, as although he knew that his one hope was to be -dissociated from his brother, he would not pretend that he had been his -dupe. Desperate efforts were made to save the unhappy men. A petition, -signed by more than seventy bankers and influential men of business, -was presented to the King. Mrs Robert Perreau with her three children, -all in deep mourning, flung herself at the feet of the Queen. But good -King George III. was a stranger to mercy, and Justice Mansfield was not -the sort of person to make the introduction. - -On Wednesday, the 17th of January 1776--a bitter morning, with keen -frost in the air and deep snow on the ground--the two poor brothers -were led out to die. When they were brought from the chapel into the -day-room within the Press Yard, to await the coming of the hangmen, -they found only a few faithful friends who wished to say farewell. -For, to prevent an unseemly crowd, good Keeper Akerman stood himself -at the gate of the fatal quadrangle, denying entrance even to his own -acquaintances. Daniel Perreau, apparently unmoved, gave a bow to his -friends, and then sought the warmth of the fire. Robert, less resolute -than his brother, was unmanned for an instant by the sight of the cords -and halters upon the table. In a few moments their steps were ringing -across the flags of the courtyard, as with bound arms they followed the -Sheriffs towards the gate. Those who gazed upon these poor victims of a -merciless law testify that their tread was firm and their faces hopeful -and serene. For, save in that first base betrayal of a woman, no one -can accuse Daniel and Robert Perreau of cowardice. Five others bore -them company to the grave. - -Shortly after nine o’clock the City Marshals, attended by the full -panoply of sheriffdom, started the procession. Next came an open -cart, covered with black baize, where sat three of the convicts, and -then a hurdle, dragged by four horses, on which rested a pair of -wretches condemned for coining. And last, there followed the sombre -mourning-coach--a special privilege--with the unhappy brothers. All -around lay a winding sheet of snow, crusted thick on the housetops, -piled in deep billows against the walls. A piercing east wind shot down -the Old Bailey, while the prison gleamed in the frosty mist like a -monument of hard black ice. - -Beyond Newgate Street the bell in St Sepulchre’s high steeple rang -fiercely over the frozen roofs, as though pealing forth a pæan of -exultation upon the procession of death. Here there came a halt in -the march, while from the steps of the church, in time-honoured -fashion, the sexton delivered his solemn exhortation to the condemned -prisoners:-- - -“All good people, pray heartily unto God for these poor sinners, who -are now going to their death, for whom this great bell doth toll.... - - “Lord have mercy upon you, - Christ have mercy upon you.” - -Backwards and forwards around the mourning-coach surged the mob, -clamouring with ribald fury for a glimpse of the celebrated forgers. -Robert Perreau, sitting with his back to the horses beside one of the -sheriff’s officers, pulled down the glass meekly, and gazed out with -calm, unruffled features. Then the long journey was resumed. Over the -heavy road the wheels and hoofs slipped and crunched down the slopes -of Snow Hill, and toiled up the steep ascent into Holbourn. Standing -erect in the cart, George Lee, a handsome boy highwayman, gorgeous in a -crimson coat and ruffled shirt, doffed his gold-laced hat with a parade -of gallantry to a young woman in a hackney coach. Then, while a hundred -eyes and a hundred loathsome jests were turned upon her, the poor girl -burst into a flood of tears. In another moment her lover had passed -away for ever. Huddled in the same tumbril with the swaggering youth, a -couple of Jews, condemned for housebreaking, shook and chattered with -dread, their yellow faces livid as death, a strange contrast to their -florid, bombastic companion. Shivering with cold, the two tortured -coiners were jolted over the snow, bound fast to their hurdle, their -limbs turned to ice by the frost. Within the black coach, the brothers -listened calmly and reverently to the prayers with which Ordinary -Villette, who sat by the side of Daniel, supplicated the Almighty to -pardon these victims unworthy of human mercy. And all the while, the -mob--forty thousand strong--shrieked, danced and hurled snowballs, -maddened like fierce animals by the scent of blood. - -It was only half-past ten o’clock when the cortege reached the triple -tree. Two separate gallows had been prepared, for it was not meet that -Hebrew and Christian should hang from the same branch. So the tumbril -was drawn under the smaller crossbar, and, their halters being fixed, -the two Jews were left to their rabbi; while highwayman Lee, and the -coiners Baker and Ratcliffe, were placed in a second cart. Seated in -their coach a little distance away, the two brothers watched these -ghastly preparations with unruffled mien. When all was ready Sheriff -Newnham gave them a signal, and they descended to the ground. A moment -later they were standing beside their three wretched compatriots. Then -the Rev. Villette came forward to play his usual part. Holding the same -prayer-book, Daniel and Robert Perreau followed the services with pious -attention, their reverence forming a marked contrast to the swagger -of the boy highwayman. For some time they were allowed to converse -with the Ordinary, and each gave him a paper containing a last solemn -declaration of their innocence. It was noticed that Daniel raised his -eyes to the sky, and boldly asserted that he was guiltless. - -At half-past eleven all was ready for the final scene. Ordinary -Villette offered a last shake of the hand; Sheriffs Haley and Newnham -bowed in solemn farewell. Having been fee’d by his distinguished -clients, Jack Ketch gave a moment’s grace while the brothers embraced -tenderly. Faithful unto death, the brave fellows exhibited more -nobility in their last few hours than during the whole of their lives. -As the cart drew away and their foothold slipped beneath them, their -hands were still clasped together. For a full half minute their fingers -remained linked as they dangled in the air, and then fell apart as they -passed into oblivion beside their five dying companions. Four days -later, on Sunday, the 21st of January, they were buried together in a -vault within St Martin’s Church, Ludgate Hill. - -No mob could have behaved with more indecency than the howling, -laughing throng that gazed upon this scene of death, increasing by -their wanton rioting the agony of the poor sufferers a thousandfold. -With great difficulty an army of constables--three hundred in -number--kept a clear space around the scaffold. After the spectacle -was over it was found that there had been numerous accidents. A woman -was beaten down and pressed to death; a youth was killed by a fall -from a coach. One of the stands near the gallows collapsed during the -execution, and three or four persons lost their lives. - -In the history of crime the case of the unfortunate brothers forms an -important landmark. Although many a forger had gone to the gallows -before, they were the first ‘distinguished victims’ of the merciless -code. Thus their fate served as a precedent. “If Dr Dodd is pardoned, -then the Perreaus have been murdered!” quoth the crazy king, when he -was asked to forgive ‘the macaroni parson’ Henceforth, it was as safe -to blow out a man’s brains as to counterfeit his handwriting. At last, -when the first humane monarch for more than a hundred years set his -face against such butchery the lawgivers were unable to preserve the -bloody statutes that had slaughtered thousands during the half century -which separated the deaths of Robert Perreau and Henry Fauntleroy. -By the side of Mackintosh, Romilly, and Ewart, the fourth George is -entitled to an honourable place. - -Public opinion changed once more with wonted inconsistency after -the acquittal of Mrs Rudd, and the apothecary in particular, as the -bankers’ petition indicates, received the widest sympathy. Still, it -seems strange that his guilt could have been doubted by reasonable -persons. No other defence was open to him save the one he used, old as -human sin--it was the woman!--and even this apology involved the most -absurd pretences. Clearly, the fable had been prearranged between the -conspirators. Treachery brought its own reward, and Robert Perreau, -forgetting that there should be honour among thieves, was ruined -because he did not trust his fair accomplice to the full extent. No -doubt she would have soothed sea-dog Frankland just as she pacified -the bankers Drummond. - -In all the sordid history the one bright spot is the loyalty of -charming, wicked Mrs Rudd to her grimy confederates, for the scene in -old William Adair’s parlour on that stormy March morning might well -have cost her life. Had the bankers proved to be curmudgeons, the -Perreaus would not have raised a hand to save her from the shambles. -Since she must have known the men who were her associates, she must -have realised also her own risk. Yet still she kept her faith, while -perceiving that safety lay in betrayal. Truly a noble act of heroism, -though based upon a mud-heap. Thus when we bear in mind how the two -brothers repaid her trust, and reflect upon the breach of law-honour -sanctioned by James Mansfield, there comes the obvious suspicion that, -whatever her iniquity, the woman was more than repaid in her own coin. - -Little is remembered of her subsequent history. A few days after her -trial it is recorded that she visited the play in Lord Lyttelton’s -chariot. During the following spring she was honoured by the polite -attentions of James Boswell. On the 15th of May of this year, great -Johnson himself declared that he would have visited her at the same -time as his _fidus Achates_ were it not that they had a trick of -putting everything in the newspapers! Possibly other references -occur in ‘Bon Ton Magazines’ or similar _chroniques scandaleuses_, -now treasured in tree calf or crushed morocco, and vended at so many -guineas per ounce. There is a hint somewhere that her charms had begun -to wane, although she was only thirty at the time of her trial, for a -life and experiences such as hers trace lines upon the face and dim -the lustre of the eye. Still, whatever the cause, we may conjecture -that her friendship with Lord Lyttelton did not last much longer than -a couple of years, as, while he succumbed to the famous bad dreams -on the 27th of November, she died before June 1779 in very distressed -circumstances. Possibly she was supplanted by the famous Mrs Dawson. - -In the testimony of her contemporaries there is unanimity with regard -to the beauty and wit of Margaret Rudd--the sole grudge, even of the -women, being that she was clever enough to cheat the gallows. To -pretend sympathy with those who were saddened because she received no -punishment is superlative cant, for the penalty would have been out of -all proportion to the offence. Thus the cheers that rang through the -Old Bailey on that December evening long ago find an echo in our hearts -to-day. Moreover, since it was needful to offer up a propitiatory -sacrifice to Mammon, it was a shrewd common-sense that selected the -brothers as the more deserving of the awful atonement. - -In the scarlet pages of the chronicles of crime there is not another -dazzling figure such as the mistress of poor Daniel Perreau. Yet she -walks across the dim stage in the guise of no tragedy queen as Miss -Blandy. If at all, she compels our tears amidst our smiles, and such -tears are the most gentle and spontaneous. Light, sparkling, joyous, -she chases pleasure with reckless laughter, meeting the fate of all -who pursue the glittering wisp, heedless of the deepening mire through -which they tread. It is wrong to watch her dainty person with delight, -but we cannot avert our eyes. Alas, _transit gloria mundi_! One of the -most excellent of modern critics speaks truly of this immortal lady as -a forgotten heroine of the _Newgate Calendar_, and she--the idol of -princes and lord mayors--has not received a niche among the national -biographies! - - - - -BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE PERREAU CASE - - -I. CONTEMPORARY TRACTS - -1. _The Female Forgery_, Or Fatal Effects of Unlawful Love. J. Bew, No. -28 Paternoster Row. Price 1/6. “With a beautiful whole-length portrait -of Mrs Rudd resolving whether to sign the Bond or forfeit her life. -From the capital drawing of an eminent master.” (Published April 22, -1775.) - -2. _Forgery Unmasked_, or Genuine Memoirs of the Two Unfortunate -Brothers, Rob. and Daniel Perreau, and Mrs Rudd. A. Grant, Bridges -Street, Covent Garden. Price 1/. “Illustrated with a New and Beautiful -Engraving of Mr Dan. Perreau in the act of threatening to Murder -Mrs. Rudd, unless she would sign the Fatal Bond.” (April 25, 1775. A -pro-Rudd Tract, containing the case of Mrs Rudd, as related by herself, -which appeared originally as a series of letters in the _Morning Post_ -from March 27 to April 10.) - -3. _Genuine Memoirs of Messieurs Perreau_; (Now under Confinement.) -With many Curious Anecdotes relative to Mrs Rudd; G. Allen, No. 59 -Paternoster Row. Price 1/6. Brit. Mus. (April 26, 1775.) - -4. _The Genuine Memoirs of the Messers Perreau._ G. Kearsley, 46 Fleet -Street. Price 1/6. (Published May 11, 1775. Second edition June 8, -1775.) - -5. _The Trials of Robert and Daniel Perreau._ T. Bell, at (No. 26) the -Top of Bell-Yard, near Temple Bar. Taken down in shorthand by Joseph -Gurney. (June 6, 1775.) - -6. _Mr. Daniel Perreau’s Narrative of His Unhappy Case._ T. Evans, No. -50 in the Strand, near York Buildings. Price 2/. Brit. Mus. (June 9, -1775.) - -7. _A Letter to the Right Hon. Earl of Suffolk...._ In which the -Innocence of Robert Perreau is demonstrated. T. Hookham, at his -Circulating Library, the Corner of Hanover Street, Hanover Square. -Price 1/. Brit. Mus. (July 13, 1775.) - -8. _Facts_, or a Plain and Explicit Narrative of the Case of Mrs. Rudd. -T. Bell, 26 Bell-Yard, Temple Bar. Price 2/. Brit. Mus. (July 1775. -This tract contains the “Case of Mrs. Rudd as related by herself,” -with the addition of her “Narrative,” which appeared originally in the -_Morning Post_. July 1, 3, 4, 7, 10, and 14.) - -9. _Observations on the Trial of Mr. Robert Perreau._ With Mr. -Perreau’s Defence, as spoken on His Trial. S. Bladon, No. 16 -Paternoster Row. Price 2/. Brit. Mus. (July 17, 1775.) - -10. _The True Genuine Lives and Trials, etc. of the Two Unfortunate -Brothers._ Illustrated with Two New and Beautiful Engravings, 1st. -Daniel Perreau threatening to Murder Mrs Rudd .... 2nd. The two -Perreaus lamenting their unhappy fate. J. Miller, White Lion Street, -Goodman’s Fields. Brit. Mus. (1775.) - -11. _An Account of the Arguments of Counsel...._ On Sat., Sept. 16. -1775, whether Mrs. Rudd ought to be tried, etc. By Joseph Gurney. Sold -by Martha Gurney, No. 34 Bell-Yard, Temple Bar. 1775. price 1/6. Brit. -Mus. - -12. _The Case of Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd_, from her first -Commitment to Newgate on Thursday, the 1st of June, last to her final -acquittal at the Old Bailey, Friday, December 8, 1775. J. Bew, No. 28 -Paternoster Row. (December 15, 1775.) - -13. The Whole Proceedings on the King’s Commission of the Peace, Oyer -and Terminer, and Gaol Delivery for the City of London; and also the -Gaol Delivery for the County of Middlesex; Held at Justice Hall in the -Old Bailey, on Wednesday, the 6th of December, 1775, and the following -Days. Revised and published by John Glynn, Serjeant at Law and Recorder -of London. No. 1. Part I. Printed by William Richardson for Edward and -Charles Dilby, price 9d. (December 19, 1775.) - -14. _The Trial at Large of Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd._ Elucidated -by such Matter as never before transpired. By Mr. Bailey, -Barrister-at-Law. Sold at No. 26 Bell-Yard near Temple Bar. (1775.) -_London Library._ - -15. _A Solemn Declaration of Mr. Daniel Perreau...._ Written by himself -and Delivered to a Friend in the Cells of Newgate on Sunday, January -14. 1776. T. Evans, near York Buildings in the Strand, price 1/. Brit. -Mus. (January 22, 1776.) - -16. _A Genuine Account of the Behaviour and Dying Words of Daniel and -Robert Perreau._ By the Reverend John Villette, Ordinary of Newgate. -Printed for the Author and sold at his house, No. 1 Newgate St. 1776. -Brit. Mus. (1776.) - -17. _An Explicit Account of the Lives, Trials, Dying Words, and Burial -of the Twin Brothers._ Brit. Mus. (1776. Without the publisher’s name.) - -18. _Mrs. Marg. Car. Rudd’s Case Considered, Respecting Robert -Perreau._ In an Address to Henry Drummond Esquire, J. Wilkie, No. 71, -In St Paul’s Churchyard. Price 1/. (January 26, 1776.) - -19. _Mrs. M. C. Rudd’s Genuine Letter to Lord Weymouth...._ Together -with An Explanation of the Conduct of a certain Great City Patriot. G. -Kearsly in Fleet St. Price 1/. Brit. Mus. (March 5, 1776. The original -letter appeared in the _Morning Post_, January 16, 1776.) - -20. _A Letter from Mrs. Christian Hart to Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd._ -J. Williams. No. 46, opposite Fetter Lane, Fleet Street, price 1/. -Brit. Mus. (Published March 23, 1776.) - -21. _She is, and She is Not_; A Fragment of the True History of -Miss Caroline De Grosberg, alias Mrs. Potter, etc. J. Bew, No. 28 -Paternoster Row. Price 1/6 Brit. Mus. (Published April 24, 1776.) - -22. _Authentic Anecdotes of the Life and Transactions of Mrs. Margaret -Rudd_ ... in a series of letters to ... Miss Mary Lovell. “In two -neat pocket volumes, price 4/ sewed, or 5/ bound, embellished with a -striking likeness taken from the life and engraved by G. Bartolozzi.” -J. Bew, No. 28 Paternoster Row. Brit. Mus. (Published June 16, 1776.) - -23. _Prudence Triumphing over Vanity and Dissipation_; or the History -of the Life, Character, and Conduct of Mr. Robert, and Mr. Daniel -Perreau, and Mrs. Rudd. J. Maling, Bookseller, the corner of Fleet -Market, Ludgate-hill; J. Bradshaw, No. 40, St John Street, Clerkenwell; -and J. Naples, Greenwich. Brit. Mus. - -24. _A Particular Account of the Dreadful and Shocking Apparitions_ of -the two unfortunate Perreaus. Brit. Mus. (Broadside. Published later -than February 30, 1776.) - -Lowndes mentions also:-- - -25. _An Authentic Account of the Particulars which appeared on the -Trials of Robert and Daniel Perreau._ Nassau, pt. ii. 746. - -26. _The History of the Life, Character, and Conduct of Mr. Daniel and -Robert Perreau and Mrs. Rudd._ London 8. vo. - -27. _Law Observations on the Case of Mrs. Rudd._ By a Gentleman of the -Inner Temple. 8. vo. 1/6. - - -II. CONTEMPORARY NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES - - 1. _The Public Advertiser_, March 15-December 1775. January 1776. - 2. _The Daily Advertiser_, do. 15 do. do. - 3. _The Morning Chronicle_, do. 13 do. do. - 4. _The London Chronicle_, do. 16 do. do. - 5. _The Morning Post_, do. 16 do. do. - 6. _The Gazetteer_, do. 15 do. do. - 7. _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, do. 17 do. do. - 8. _The Evening Post_, do. 17 do. do. - 9. _The Craftsman_, June 1775. - - The _Morning Post_ of Thursday, January 18, 1776, contains a - long account of the execution of the Perreaus. There are full - descriptions in the other newspapers. - - 10. _Gentleman’s Magazine._ - - 1775. - - “The Perreau Frauds,” pp. 148-150, 205. - “Trials of the Perreaus,” pp. 278-284, 300. - “The Case of Mrs. Rudd,” pp. 347, 349, 452, 603-5. - “Poems on Mrs. Rudd,” pp. 443, 492. - - 1776. - - “Petitions on behalf of the Perreaus,” 22, 23, 44. - “Execution of the Perreaus,” 44, 45, 46. - “Pamphlets on the Case,” 176, 278. - - 1779. - - “Reported death of Mrs Rudd,” p. 327. - - 1800. - - “Reported death of Mrs Rudd,” pp. 188, 483. - - 1809. - - -1834. - - Reference to the Perreau Case, _vide_ obituary notice of Alex. - Adair, part ii. p. 318. - - The report of the celebrated Mrs Rudd’s death in vol. lxx. - is inaccurate, as reference to the parish register of - Hardingstone, Northampton, shows that a Mrs William Rudd was - buried on February 7, 1800. There is evidence that she died in - 1779. - -11. _The London Magazine._ Published by R. Baldwin at the Rose, -Paternoster Row. - - (1775), pp. 300-307, 356-7, 376, 429, 488, 602, 657. - (1775), pp. 53-54, 161, 327. - -12. _The Town and Country Magazine._ Published by A. Hamilton Junior -near St. John’s Gate. - - (1775), pp. 300, 482, 629. - (1776), p. 39. - -13. _The Westminster Magazine._ Published by Richardson and Urquhart at -the Royal Exchange, and T. Wright, Essex St., Strand. - - (1775), pp. 119, 297, 304, 390, 475, 655. - (1776), pp. 41-43. - -14. _The Convivial Magazine._ Published by T. Bell. Bell-Yard near -Temple Bar. - - (1775), pp. 33, 98. - (1776), pp. 171, 223, 247, 291. - -15. _The Annual Register_, xviii. 229. - - -THE SONG “ROBIN ADAIR” - -V. _Notes and Queries._ - - Third Series, v. 404, 442, 500; vi. 35, 96, 176, 254. - Fourth Series, viii. 548; ix. 99, 130, 197. - Fifth Series, v. 20. - Eighth Series, vii. 267; x. 196, 242, 426; xi. 32. - - Although both words and music may have been plagiarised from - old Irish ballad and old Irish melody, it is probable that - the story of Surgeon Robert Adair and Lady Caroline Keppel - suggested the later version of John Braham, December 17, 1811. - - * * * * * - -NOTE.--We are indebted to Sir Thomas Frankland for one of the most -charming mezzotints by Wm. Ward, after Hoppner--a picture of his two -daughters. - - - - -THE KING’S ENGRAVER - -THE CASE OF WILLIAM WYNNE RYLAND, 1783 - - -About the time that Miss Blandy was commencing her ill-fated amour with -Captain Cranstoun, a dark-eyed boy with earnest, clear-cut features, -often carrying a portfolio of drawings under his arm, might have been -met by any one who strolled along Fleet Street or the Strand in the -early morning between Charing Cross and the Old Bailey. From his home -beneath the grim shadow of Newgate prison, where his father, Edward -Ryland, prints and engraves in a house next door to that in which -thief-taker Wild levied blackmail, the young artist trudges each day to -the St Martin’s Lane Academy. And should one meet him in the autumn of -1749, he will be wearing a suit of solemn black; and his grave, eager -face will seem more sombre than wont, for his patron and godfather, -the good and kind Sir Watkin Williams-Wynne, has been killed by a fall -from his horse, to the unspeakable grief of every son of gallant little -Wales. - -[Illustration: Guil.ᵘˢ Wynne Ryland, - -Hist.ᵆ Calcographus.] - -Around the school of drawing where young Ryland is learning his craft, -a new world is springing into life--a world of fancy, grace, and -colour, destined to free old London from the sable sway of dulness. -It is the world of art, over which the deep black deluge has rested -for so long, soon to be peopled with the bright creations of genius. -William Wynne Ryland will see some of these great ones ere he leaves -St Martin’s Lane for the studio of a new master. Often, as he passes -the coffee-tavern of Old Slaughter, he must catch sight of a placid, -round-faced young man, with a mild pair of eyes that seem to need the -aid of glasses, hurrying down Long Acre, while he envies Mr Reynolds, -the portrait-painter, who has the entry to the Club that meets beneath -the roof where Pope has held his court. Or, when he looks up at the -house where the elegant Thornhill lived and worked, now the residence -of Beau Hayman, more at home with the bottle than the brush, he may -observe a tall, sentimental youth springing through the door, whose -thoughts are far away amidst the woods and dales of Sudbury, where -dwells a pretty miss called Peggy. And possibly, a little later, he -will listen to the romantic fable that Tom Gainsborough has married a -princess in disguise. Sometimes he may meet a middle-aged compatriot, -named Richard Wilson, whose glowing scenes from Nature are to wrest the -guerdon from France, and to found the incomparable school of British -landscape. - -Frequently a smile will steal over Wynne Ryland’s grave, nervous lips, -as a small boy with a big head and a long, Punch-like body scampers -down the lane, whirling his crooked legs, and he will hail the -truant with the cry: “What, little Joey, have you been tolling for a -funeral?” But the breathless lad, who has wasted too much time in his -favourite game of assisting his friend the sexton at St James’s Church, -scuttles back to his casts and models. Perhaps, one day, this little -Joey Nollekens, who in good time produces many a beautiful bust and -statue, will be allowed to take his friend into the studio of the great -good-natured Roubiliac. “Hush, hush!” we can hear the volatile master -cry, as he drags his young admirer before the figure which his deft -chisel has caressed for a last time; “look, he vil speak in a minute!” -And as the youth gazes upon the noble work, his quick Welsh blood, -warmed by the infection of genius, glows with like ambition to do and -dare. Soon, also, he becomes a pupil of the sculptor in St Peter’s -Court, from whom, whatever else he learns, he must acquire a boundless -self-confidence. - -Shortly after the death of his godfather, young Wynne Ryland, now about -seventeen years old, is bound apprentice to engraver Ravenet, who came -over from France to help Hogarth with his plates, and who has set up a -school south of the river in Lambeth Marsh. As the crows flies, it is a -short journey from the Old Bailey, but one must turn up Ludgate Hill, -wind round Black Friars through Water Lane, holding one’s nose if the -wind comes north-west down the grimy Fleet, and from the steps take -wherry to the Surrey side. Across the Thames, the wide, deep ditches, -bordered by their fringes of willows, have changed the moss into a -fertile plain. - -Old Ryland is careful to conciliate the French artist now and then by -a judicious commission, which takes the form of woolly book-plates -after Sam Wale--classic pictures according to Queen Anne traditions, -filled with urns and hose-pipe torches, wooden scrolls of parchment, -and busts on pillar-boxes, gentlemen in cotton dressing-gowns, with -stony beards, and demure ladies in flowing nightshirts. We meet these -curious plates in a rare copy of the Book of Common Prayer, with the -sign of Edward Ryland of the Old Bailey, and similar ones in Sir John -Hawkins’ interpretation of Old Isaac. Young Wynne takes his part -in the work, and though Master François gives him the lead, aided -by fellow-countrymen Canot and Scotin, while the senior prentices, -Grignion and Walker, also ply their gravers, a glance at ‘Luke the -Physician,’ or ‘St Matthew at the Receipt of Custom’ will show that the -youthful Welshman already is the equal of the best of them. Thus for -five years he works under Ravenet. - -It must have been a happy home in that dingy, sunless house in the Old -Bailey, where Wynne Ryland’s early days were spent. The father, busy -and prosperous, devoted to his wife, eager to encourage the talents of -his boys, and observing proudly, with expert eye, the amazing genius -of his third son. Yet over all there broods the sad shadow of the grim -prison. Often in the night the silence is broken by the hoarse voice of -the bellman chanting this refrain:-- - - “You prisoners that are within, - Who for wickedness and sin, - - “After many Mercies shown you, are now appointed to Dye to - Morrow in the Forenoon: Give Ear and understand that to-morrow - the Greatest Bell of St Sepulchre’s shall toll for you, in Form - and Manner of a Passing Bell, as used to be tolled for those - that are at the Point of Death....” - -It is the loathly knell of the unhappy wretches within the deep black -walls. And in the morning the awful boom of St Sepulchre rolls over the -housetops, while a ribald, drunken mob chokes the street. Then comes -the clank and clatter of sheriffs officers, and, as the procession -moves from the iron portals of Newgate, there follows an open cart, -driven by a gruesome creature astride a coffin, and in which, bound and -quaking, lie the poor passengers to Tyburn. Such scenes are a portion -of the boyhood of William Wynne Ryland, the great engraver. - -But, after the long years of his apprenticeship have rolled away, a -brighter and more glittering life than dingy old London, or even the -whole world, can show, comes to the young genius. Since his youth Paris -has been whispering to him her enticing summons--Paris, the Cyprus -of art, where beauty, love, and colour walk hand in hand, and where -he whose fingers can fashion their charms may become mightiest of -the mighty. Two friends and old school-fellows are eager to make the -same pilgrimage, and the indulgent parent, whose foresight perceives -whither the talents of his gifted son will lead him, gives his consent. -Although he knows that if the lowering storm-clouds shall burst, a -visit to France may mean exile until the close of the war, he resolves -that the young man shall pursue his art in the studios of the great -French masters. So, early one morning the three enthusiasts mount -Christopher Shaw’s stage-coach at the sign of the ‘Golden Cross’ and -resting at Canterbury over night, reach Dover in good time the next -day. With a fair wind, a stout smack will touch the opposite coast in a -few hours, where they must tolerate a much less speedy team and a more -shaky vehicle along the road to Paris. - -It is the eve before the deluge, and a sunset, having no part in the -morrow, most brilliant and gorgeous of aspect. To the eye of the poet -or painter there is no blemish in the fair landscape. His vision rests -only upon graceful palace or shining gardens. Around the fountains, -over the lawns, glide the creatures of Arcadia--beautiful gentlemen -in dazzling frocks and scented ruffles, toying with bejewelled sword -or flicking the lid of a golden snuff-box, moving their satin limbs -in obeisance to their fair partners. Sweet ladies with snowy ringlets -falling upon bare shoulders, the bloom of roses in their cheeks, and -the sheen of pearls on their round breasts, fluttering like butterflies -amidst the flower-beds, clad in shimmering draperies, flashing in -a blaze of colour. Or, in the twinkling of an eye, the picture may -dissolve, to become more entrancing. My lord now trips the mead a -dainty Strephon, tuning his pipes, and shaking the ribbands at his -knees, while his highborn Phyllis, still wearing her powdered hair and -disdainful patches, twirls her silken ankles in the graceful freedom -of short frocks. What though these scenes dwell only on the canvas -of the painter of Valenciennes! They are as real as were visions of -angels to the dreamer Blake! In the eyes of the artist the whole of -laughing France must be a fairy Arcadia such as this, for the witching -Pompadour, who fulfils the thoughts of prescient Watteau, directs the -dance. - -Then from the thicket comes the tinkle of silvery laughter, where the -paths wind beneath the branches to lonely dells, through which the -sunlight streams in floods of amber between the leaves. Here, amidst -the gold and olive shadows, which chase each other in flickering play -round some graven image of goat-faced Pan, flits a wanton lady, flying -from her persistent lover, but laughing, tripping, and calling to him -still, as she draws him onward. Or, in the cool grove, crowned by a -wealth of ivy-tinged greenery, a sylph-like figure sweeps through -the air in her velvet swing, and her shining arms, raised to grasp -the ropes, throw the contours of her form into shapely pose. From -the bushes beneath sounds a burst of raillery, as her swain rises to -his feet, gazing with rapture as the pretty girl flies past him and -returns, adoring the tiny slippers, and the silken hose that vanish -in dainty curves beneath a fluttering screen of drapery. The fancy of -Fragonard has painted the spirit of his age--a world full of leaves, -and flowers, and sunshine, where life moves with the rhythmic cadence -of the swing, where every breath is pleasure, recking naught of pain or -death. - -Each palace that crowns these fairy gardens, wherein the splendour of -man reaches its highest goal, is a sanctuary dedicated to the worship -of feminine beauty. From every wall glows her picture, majestic in -opulent lines of dazzling flesh--Cytherea draped in creamy foam, or -languishing upon her couch with robes of gossamer, the divinity of -the shrine. All the fair throng of lords and ladies, flashing with -brilliants, shining in silk attire, are her votaries, who bow in -idolatry beneath the spell. More than human are these worshippers, for -they have tasted the honey-dew upon her lips, and have drunk the milk -of Paradise. Yet only half their life-story has been told by François -Boucher. As semi-divinities he has limned them, sporting as children -around their Venus-mother, grovelling as satyrs before the throne of -their queen. We must turn to other pictures to view their destiny. -Their fate is that of all mortals who seek to share the pleasures of -the gods. Duped by the alluring smile of the deity, they spread their -tiny wings to invade her home, and the outraged divinity turns upon -them in her wrath and smites them with death. - -Not one of those who immortalise the romance of that fairy age can read -the writing on the wall. Boucher, Fragonard, and their gay school, who -are as blind to the future as the dead painter of Valenciennes, depict -only what they see. The squalid little leech of Boudry is still in his -country home, or wandering, an enthusiastic boy, in greedy pursuit of -science to the sunny south; the sea-green _avocat_ of Arras has not yet -looked upon the light; the lion-hearted tamer of the Gironde also is -unborn. Even the surly, pock-fretten features of giant Mirabeau have -never passed through the streets of Paris. A long, brilliant night is -still before the giddy capital. - -None of the ominous hungry growls from squalid purlieus can arrest -the ears of young Wynne Ryland, who has come to Paris to shake off -the memory of sad Old Bailey, who sees naught but the colour and -romance. Thus he breathes into his soul, with strong, eager lungs, the -perfume-scented air. With the enthusiasm of genius he plunges into -work at the seductive studio of the inspector of the Gobelins. Sieur -Boucher is at the summit of his fame, petted by Madame de Pompadour, -commissioned by King Pan. Surely the handsome, dark-faced Welshman, who -can trace on copper the gallant compositions of his master as finely -as any pupil of Le Bas, must have won the love of the gay, profligate -painter. And, should it be his humour, what a strange world Monsieur -Boucher can reveal to the pupil’s eyes! One day, perhaps, he may hold -before him a jewelled fan, glowing with luscious pictures, which he has -just created for la belle Marquise. Or it will be a fancy sketch of -some lacquered tabouret that he has designed for her private room at -Versailles. Sometimes he may grasp the young man’s arm, and, drawing -him a little aside, will open a secret portfolio, whispering, with a -smile upon his pleasure-worn face, and drooping his dissolute eyelids, -“Pour le boudoir de Madame dans l’Hôtel de l’Arsenal.” Then, while -Wynne Ryland gazes upon the beautiful Anacreontic pictures, which no -scene within the cities of the plains can have excelled, his black, -thoughtful eyes will flash with admiration, and his white teeth glitter -between his parted lips. It is no place for innocence, nor for narrow -virtue, this glowing, gilded salon of Sieur Boucher the incomparable. - -Yet the young Welshman does not neglect his proper craft. As the work -of later years bears eloquent testimony, none of the gifted pupils of -Le Bas have profited more from the instruction of that famous school. -Jacques Philippe, as might be expected, turns him on to the plates -of his _Fables choisies_, designs after Oudry-interpretations of La -Fontaine parables, spread over four mighty tomes, beloved of the -amateur who collects the _estampes galantes_. Volume II., bearing date -1755, contains a couple of these--with signature in Gallic orthography, -‘G. Riland’--portraits of peacock-feathered jay and boastful mule, -humanised in the text, though strangely wooden in the picture. - -Still, the line-engraver, with all his splendid art, is not the master -that moulds the destiny of William Wynne. Among the numerous pupils of -Le Bas is an ingenious person named Gilles Demarteau, who is practising -a new method of working his copper plate with tiny dots which make the -finished print as smooth and soft as a drawing in chalk. Out of this -arises a vehement artistic causerie, for it is a sure fact that a man -of forty, one Jean Charles François, has received a pension of 600 -francs for this same invention, which, some say, another before him -invented after all. Ryland, no doubt, learns everything he can from -both pioneers, without troubling to ascertain the original discoverer, -and, as this ‘stipple’ manner takes his fancy, he soon becomes as -dexterous as those who teach him. Further, he finds that this same -dotted plate may be tinted by the engraver’s brush, giving an almost -perfect illusion of a picture in water-colours. - -At last the young Welshman makes up his mind to complete the grand -tour, without which the education of an artist is incomplete. Some say -that the medal he gained at the Académie Royale entitles him to free -tuition at Rome. At all events, he flies south to blunt his pencil upon -the gnarled contours of Michael Angelo, and to shade the tender lines -of Raphael--for the immortals of Leyden and Seville have not yet thrown -these high priests from their altar. This same enterprise proves of -much service to him when, in a year or two, the great lords at home -wish him to transcribe, in the novel ‘Demarteau-after-Boucher’ fashion, -their collections of the great masters. Hitherto he has been true to -his first love, the line-engraving, in the dainty fashion of Le Bas, -and the Parisian connoisseurs of ’57, who glue their glasses upon the -rounded limbs of Leda toying with her swan--a print after Boucher which -Ryland has pulled from his plate--acknowledge that some good has come -from Angleterre at last. - -With this same work the Welsh engraver first woos the British public, -showing it at the Exhibition of the Society of Artists in Spring -Gardens in the May of ’61. About this date, after an absence of five -summers, when he is in his twenty-ninth year, he returns home to -England. Chance has much in store for him. For a long time the canny -Prime Minister, known to most of his fellow-countrymen as the Boot--an -opprobrious, not a popular term,--has been looking out for a cheap -line in engravings. Some time ago, courtly fellow-Scot Allan Ramsay -had painted wonderful portraits of the noble favourite and royal -Prince George; so, when the first was Premier and the other Defender -of the Faith, it became necessary for the welfare of the nation that -their lineaments should be scattered broadcast through the medium of a -copper-plate. - -“Robie Strange is my man,” thinks painter Allan, and makes the -mistake of telling his illustrious ex-sitters before he has caught -his engraver. There is a dreadful _contretemps_. Stout-hearted Robie -is acquainted with Scottish truck--he will have none of them. “Off to -Rome to copy great masters,” is the excuse. “Cannot waste four years -over your pictures!” But in stout Robie’s heart of hearts there may -lurk another motive; for Robie has whirled his claymore at Prestonpans, -and Charlie is his darling. Indeed, he might have gone the way of -wry-necked old Lovat had not a devoted damsel allowed him to hide -beneath her hoop--to whose skirts, very properly, he remained attached -ever after. Robie snorts at the canny price they offer him. A hundred -pounds to engrave the cod-fish features of royal George! when Rome and -the great masters are calling loudly, where he will kiss hands with his -own King James III. “No, thank you!” says Robie, and, packing up chalks -and drawing-board, takes himself off on his travels. - -In this dilemma Mæcenas Bute, who, to do him justice, keeps his eyes -open for budding genius, hears of the young Welsh engraver, the beater -of Frenchmen on their own soil. Being an art-collector, probably he -has seen an assortment of the fleshy prints after Boucher. So, as -Robie is with Charlie over the water, Bute secures Ryland to copy his -likeness by the polite Allan, and, in due course, “the handsomest legs -in England”--legs literally fit for a boot--appear in a very creditable -line-engraving, emblazoned with a coat of arms. Thus in this month of -February 1763 William Wynne has reached the top of the tree, happy -and smiling, at Ye Red Lamp, Russell Street, Covent Garden, close to -Button’s and Will’s. The portrait of the beautiful legs, along with -his red-chalk imitations--employed industriously ever since his return -from the Continent in several sketches from the old masters,--convinces -‘Modern Mæcenas’ that Robie’s room is better than his company. A word -whispered in the ear of the royal mother would be enough to persuade -apron-string George that the clever Welshman is the artist for his -features. At all events the great honour is offered, and Taffy, very -shrewdly keeping his head, takes care that, from his point of view, it -is a good deal. It is a most amazing deal--£100 down for the drawings, -£50 a quarter as long as the work lasts, and the proceeds of the -copyright. However, thus it stands--Wynne Ryland blazons himself with -the fearsome title, ‘Calcographus Regis Britanniæ’ and, setting up -in the true manner of a master, begins to take pupils. One of these, -worthy James Strutt, who comes to him the year after his achievement -with the beautiful legs, remains a trusted friend through life, and the -tutor, in turn, of his eldest son, who, alas, meets an early death. - -During the next four years, being paid for time, Ryland, like a true -British workman, continues to pick out slowly the salmon-lips and -Gillray stare of his royal master. A large number of the red-chalk -engravings from pictures of the great painters in the possession of -noble patrons belong to this period; and when George is finished, he -goes on to copy Cotes’ picture of the Queen with the infant Princess -Royal in her arms. While he is basking in smiles from the throne, he -is employed in other ways, visiting Paris in the middle of his work to -collect engravings for the royal connoisseur, which prints, we are told -by the festive Wille, are “magnifiques épreuves ... fourniés comme pour -un roi.” - -[Illustration: _HIS MAJESTY KING GEORGE III. - -ENGRAVED BY RYLAND._] - -These are the halcyon times of the artist’s life--these are the days -when we catch a glimpse of him swaggering along Bow Street, with -silver-hilted sword and ample ruffles, by the side of a heavy-jowled -brawler of handsome person and agile, spiteful tongue, listening with -black, eager eyes and flashing teeth to the jibes and sallies of his -friend. Or, beneath the arm of this same aggressive Charles Churchill, -he turns into Will’s coffee-house, and sits in easy deference on -the fringe of a little ring, while he hears a torrent of charming, -vicious diatribe, at the expense of poor patron Bute, pouring from the -wine-stained lips of the cross-eyed apostle of liberty. Or perhaps poet -Charles, who wields the Twickenham rapier in the fashion of a butcher -with his cleaver, may take up this Dunciad of peers, roaring out a -gruesome fable--how poor John Ayliffe was strung up at Tyburn to shut -his lips concerning the crimes of peculator Fox. Then, while they talk -of the forged deed that brought the luckless agent to the gallows, a -shudder may pass through the graceful limbs of artist William as he -thinks what a small matter may take a man to the triple tree. - -At other times two chairs will halt in Russell Street, and Ryland and -architect John Gwynn, gorgeous in brocade frocks, satin knee-breeches, -and silk stockings, will step out gaily, giving the order to their -bearers in two significant monosyllables--‘Carlisle House’ And among -all the dazzling throng that crowds the salons of fair Therese Imer, -alas for the worth of poor human nature! the one we know best--better, -even, than the old maid in knickerbockers from Strawberry Hill--is a -broad-limbed Italian, with frizzy hair and fierce nigger eyes; which -same African-tinged gentleman moves through the company with much -self-conscious play of robust leg, and a truculent stare, ogling -such a one as half-draped Iphigenia Chudleigh, or making obeisance -to buxom Caroline Harrington, while the whisper follows, keeping -company the almost filial glance of pretty Sophy Cornelys--“The -famous Casanova--it is the Chevalier de Seingalt.” Then, should Wynne -Ryland draw close while the splendid blackguard babbles French to -Milord Pembroke or Milord Baltimore, he will hear a dreadful tale of -a certain Mademoiselle la Charpillon, who, to the eternal honour of -her frail fame, has humiliated the sooty rascal to his native gutter. -Wynne Ryland and companion John are very fond of these light and airy -assemblies in Soho Square. - -For the clever engraver his connoisseur Majesty seems to foster a great -regard. Possibly, the proof prints of Wille--‘fit for a king’--have -been picked up for an old song, and tickle his thrifty soul. At all -events, he is pleased to grant to the artist a most amazing royal -boon; for, at his intercession, he--the third George, by the grace of -God--actually pardons a capital felon. A ne’er-do-weel rascal this -same poor felon, so tradition relates, but all the same he is Wynne -Ryland’s own brother. Near Brentford, or upon breezy Hounslow Heath, -or some such fashionable highwayman resort, in a drunken frolic--after -the fashion of Silas Told’s respited friend David Morgan--he calls upon -two unprotected females to stand and deliver. And for this same -daring frolic the rash Richard Ryland is taken, tried, and handed over -to Jack Ketch. And Jack soon would have made short work of Richard if -the favourite engraver to the King had not moved the royal bowels to -compassion. For, incredible though it may seem, his Majesty does turn -his thumb to the side of mercy, and brother Richard receives pardon; -after which exertion the royal bowels remain obdurate for all time. - -[Illustration: CHARLES ROGERS ESQʳ.] - -At last the regal portrait is finished, hanging in state upon the walls -of the ‘Great Room’ belonging to the excellent Incorporated Society, -when it opens its exhibition on the 22nd of April 1767. The artist is -now a resident in Stafford Row, close to the Green Park, or, rather, -as he prefers to particularise his address, ‘near the Queen’s Palace,’ -upon whose picture, with the slumbering baby Princess in her arms, he -is engaged. His portrait by Pierre Falconet, drawn during the next -year, shows him a man in the prime of life, with clean-cut, delicate -profile and a neat bob-wig tied by black ribbon, published by a dutiful -pupil who trades as Bryer & Co. in Cornhill. This kind of trade, -unhappily, has much allurement for Wynne Ryland, who, with his splendid -monopoly of plates--the royal George, her maternal Majesty, the Modern -Mæcenas with his shapely legs--seems to scent appetising profits. So -Bryer & Co. becomes Ryland & Co., and any of the royal public who -desire these regal portraits must purchase them from the proprietors at -No. 27 Cornhill, near the Royal Exchange. Unhappily for this same No. -27, the public--enamoured of the Wilkes squint and disdaining the regal -stare--do not treat these prints in the manner of hot cakes, and upon -a fateful day in December 1771, No. 27 is in the hands of the broker’s -men. - -Early in the same year a strange thing happens in Ryland’s studio. A -proud father brings along his fourteen-year-old son, a boy of splendid -and weird genius, as the sequel shows--a sequel prolific in pictures -of the immortal sheik struggling against his environment of sands and -storms and improvidence, which, like his interpreter Blake, sheik Job, -overwhelmed by tree-trunk legs and half a gale of beard, regards as -the judgment of his God. But this weird boy with the large head and -amazing eyes objects to the parental scheme of making him a pupil of -the great engraver. “Father, I do not like the man’s face,” murmurs boy -Blake, when the pair have left Ryland’s studio. “It looks as if he will -live to be hanged!” “Prescience, intuition--all the things not dreamt -of in thy philosophy,” babble his legatee mystics, bowing the knee -to jaundiced mind as rapturously as to portraits of human abortions, -aping verbal harmony of empty sound, plastering deformities with -giraffe necks and swollen limbs in a wealth of muddy hair and a saffron -skin--good and sedulous disciples. Boy Blake can have heard nothing -of the brother Richard hanging-escape! Such a small affair has never -been breathed by fond parents who go to entrust a weird son to brother -Wynne! Prescience, intuition, are more potent physical instincts than -the throb of suggestion or empiric thought. Thus clamour legatee -mystics, spurning the simple mental machinery put into motion by the -association of ideas. - -It has been reserved for a lady of our own times, whose graceful -pen has been devoted to the radiant prints of fair women of olden -days, to tell the romantic story of poor, crushed, bankrupt Ryland -and sweet feminine charity in the person of dove-eyed ‘Miss Angel’ A -scene, alluring as any of the glowing old-world engravings, is this -dainty-coloured picture painted by Mrs Frankau. Within the oak-panelled -studio, through which the winter twilight is stealing in flickering -shadows, the two ardent souls are wrapt in the communion of art. And -while coy, diaphanous Angelica listens to the fascinating tongue of -the virile, dark-skinned Welshman, her quick southern fancy whispers -that this man is the knight-errant who shall write her fame amidst the -stars. Ryland has come with a heart of lead; he goes away with a heart -of gold. For one of the most famous of unions in the annals of painting -has been sealed, and in a little while the prints after Kauffman will -have captured the imagination of the whole world. - -In a house in Queen’s Row, Knightsbridge, the great engraver commences -one of those life-and-death struggles that genius alone can wage -successfully against malicious fate. Gradually--for he is young -and strong and brave, while the trust of a sweet woman warms his -courage--he emerges from the choking atmosphere of debt. One by one his -creditors are paid, and at last, free from his bankrupt chains, he is -his own master. It is a fine work, this proud, independent cancelling -of obligations--merely moral claims--a fair tribute to the lady who -has been his tutelar divinity. For it is through his engravings of -Miss Angel’s pictures, to which he applies the ‘stipple method’ which -he learnt in France, that he wins his way back to fame and fortune. -Soon he is a contributor to the newly-formed Royal Academy exhibition, -sending very properly as his first works a couple of drawings copied -from the canvas of the sylph Kauffman. Thus pass three sober years, -while he perfects his new art, living with his young wife far from -the delights of town and the old seductive companionship, first at -Knightsbridge, and then moving a couple of miles further out into rural -Hammersmith. - -At last he resolves to tempt the grimy god of trade once more. Better -assets are in his store than a salmon-profile king or maternal majesty, -and he knows that the marketing bourgeois will not be hindered by -squint of Wilkes from clamouring for his many pictures of Venus, -beaming with the soft, dove-like eyes of pretty Miss Angel. So, in the -third year after his bankruptcy, he hangs out his sign once more as an -honest print-seller at No. 159 in the Strand, near Somerset House, by -the corner of Strand Lane, trading as William Wynne Ryland, engraver -to his Majesty. From the first the enterprise flourishes. Angelica’s -plump little Cupids, drawn in rosy chalk, appeal in their suggestive -resemblance to the heart of the British matron; the dainty Angelica -Venus, with her large haunting eyes, becomes a pattern of female -loveliness; Angelica’s mild and chaste interpretations of classic -romance push aside all previous readings. More than all, the Kauffman -pinks and yellows, transformed by the deft fingers of the wonderful -Welshman into soft, rainbow-tinged impressions--like a delicate -painting in water-colours--capture the public fancy. Such engravings -never have been seen before, and never will be seen again. It is not -strange that No. 159 in the Strand becomes one of the most popular -print-shops in London. - -During those nine years, from 1774 until the spring of 1783, the -trade venture of the engraver to his Majesty continues to enjoy great -prosperity. Profits reach the sum of two thousand a year, while -stock and plant swell to a total of five figures. Few well-fobbed -merchants, no chair-sporting City dame, can resist the temptations of -that seductive window. A pleasant sight for Miss Angel, that little -knot of open-mouthed shop-gazers with burning pockets, as she passes -in hackney coach, a vision of clinging drapery in her white Irish -polonese. While, if at that moment the happy proprietor steps out, -bound for the counting-house of Sir Charles Asgill and his friend Mr -Nightingale, with whom he is having some considerable bill of exchange -transactions--a glimpse of those large eyes and crest of feathers at -the coach window will bring down his laced hat in a sweep of obeisance, -as he bows to the knees. Then, after the bankers have discounted all -he wants, he will hurry off to Golden Square to show his Miss Angel -the last impressions of some of her pictures, glowing in colours, or -copied in the popular shade of red. Perhaps, one of these days, as he -comes near the studio, a chair may stop as he passes, from which glides -a beautiful lady, wearing a crown of glorious hair, brushed from her -forehead, who rests her starry eyes upon him for a moment with a slight -motion of her tiny rosebud lips. And his heart will beat more quickly -as he recognises the woman whose radiant face has brought poor Daniel -Perreau and his brother to a shameful death. - -[Illustration: _IN MEMORY of GENERAL STANWIX’S DAUGHTER who was LOST in -her passage from IRELAND. - -Sold at Nᵒ 159 near Somerset House, Strand May 10ᵗʰ, 1774._] - -For Wynne Ryland’s conscience is becoming a heavy burden. In spite -of his princely income, artistic improvidence is beginning to weigh -him down. Over his soul the like spirit that swayed Sieur Boucher the -incomparable reigns absolute. Gilded rooms, where the Eo. tables pave -the road to ruin, swallow his guineas in their rapacious maw. His open -hand scatters gold amidst his friends. Miss Angel, his patron saint, -returns to her native land. Although he remains the kind husband -and devoted father, the shadow of sin creeps over his roof-tree. A -pretty girl, whose fresh young beauty has stolen his heart from the -mother of his children, becomes a mistress who squanders his earnings -faster than they are reaped. Those bill of exchange transactions -with bankers Asgill and Nightingale grow more considerable. Friends -and accommodators Ransome and Moreland often receive him in their -counting-house, with his pockets full of crisp notes drawn upon the -Honourable the East India Company of Leadenhall Street; for this clean, -easy paper-credit is always welcomed as deposit for current coin. - -At last comes the fatal crash, bursting over the town in a thunderclap, -striking sorrow into the hearts of thousands. On the 3rd of April 1783, -when the London merchant opens his newspaper--_Morning Chronicle or -Daily Advertiser_--he reads there that William Wynne Ryland stands -charged before the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor on suspicion of forging -the acceptance of two bills of exchange for payment of £7114, with -intent to defraud the United East India Company. Kind John Gwynn throws -aside his plans of stately edifices, walking the streets with streaming -eyes, sorrowing for his friend. Statuesque Domenico Angelo hurries to -condole with poor Mary Ryland, and the sight of the agonised wife and -children robs the good-hearted Italian swordsman of sleep. But the -engraver had left his home at Knightsbridge on the first of the month, -and although the City Marshal searches for him in the Old Bailey and in -the Minories, nothing is heard of him for fourteen days. - -On the morning of the 15th of April, a drunken woman reels into the -‘Brown Bear’ Bow Street, hiccupping an exciting story that entices -the runners even from their pewter pots. She is the wife of a Stepney -cobbler, who for many days has been harbouring a strange lodger--a man -garbed in an old rusty coat, with green apron and worsted nightcap, -who poses as invalid Mr Jackson who needs the country air; which same -delicate invalid rests indoors all day, only venturing out after -nightfall to enjoy the health-giving April east winds. But he is not -Mr Jackson at all, babbles tipsy Mrs Cobbler Freeman, for, when taking -one of his shoes to her husband to mend, she noticed a bit of paper -pasted on the inside, and, tearing it away, she has seen written his -real name--William Wynne Ryland. This is great news for the ‘Brown -Bear’ runners, and Chief-officer Daly, accompanied by a fellow -robin-redbreast, takes coach with Mrs Cobbler Freeman to Stepney Green. - -From his garret window the guilty engraver beholds the coming of the -bloodhounds. With a brief prayer for pardon he flies to his razor, and -when the constables burst through the door they find him stretched upon -the boards with a gash across his throat. Still, he has not cheated -cruel fate. A surgeon staunches his wound, and watchers surround his -bed lest he should seek to meet death once more. In the agony of that -long night, while physical torture conquers even the deep, black pain -of unutterable despair, the wretched sufferer atones for the sins of -a lifetime. Yet on the morrow they take him rudely from his couch, -and while the foul cobbler goes clamouring to the India House for his -blood-money, Ryland is brought before Sir Sampson Wright, who sits in -the place of blind John Fielding in the office at Bow Street. There he -is given over to Governor Smith, who carries him to the Bridewell at -Tothill Fields, where he lies for weeks sick almost unto death. - -Newspaper canards spring up in wonted manner like mushrooms from a -dunghill. Mr Ryland, who cannot recover--so they say--has confessed -his crime to Sheriff Robert Taylor, naming also a pair of accomplices, -and hints a third. As he cannot recover--so they say--Keeper Smith -has a couple of men to watch him always, lest he should kill himself. -Newspaper reason uses these odd arguments and more. Among the feasts -of scandal crammed down the public gullet one fact is readily -digested--Ryland is guilty beyond all refutation! Forged E.I.C. bills -have been found in shoals--none but the great engraver could have -been their author--he attempted self-murder because he was certain of -conviction. All true, possibly; nay, probably, but where is the proof? - -The trial of the poor sick artist skips a session. In tender mercy -those in power do not shut him up in fetid, overcrowded Newgate, but -allow him to remain under the watchful care of good Keeper Smith. His -kind jailor does everything in his power to lighten his dreary lot, -making him a trusted friend, allowing him to take walks with him in the -open street, confident that he will not break his parole. It is not -until the eve of the session that they drive him to the Old Bailey, -around whose bloodstained walls he used to play with his brothers as a -child. - -On Saturday, the 26th of July, he is brought to face his accusers. -Not until the last moment do Crown lawyers intimate the terms of -indictment, for there are several forged bills laid to his charge, and, -conviction appearing a matter of doubt, the Honourable E.I.C. wishes -to be certain of its prey. So Crown lawyers select a minor charge--a -small bill for £210--which they assert Ryland has copied and engraved -from a true document, uttering it knowing it to be forged. Both bills -have been lately in the prisoner’s possession--this is made clear--but -which is the counterfeit? A hard nut for Crown lawyers, since both -are like as two peas. Unless they show that the first which Ryland -had received is the true one, their case falls to the ground, for no -man can copy what he has not seen. A breathless crowd, whose hearts -are all for the man in the dock, watch the ghastly duel of keen wits, -for it is death to one if he is vanquished. Witnesses come and go, -but tierce and parry keep the defendant unscathed. Witnesses advance -and retire, but Crown lawyers find them weak reeds. Banker Ammersley -swears to his signature on the first bill, but this proves nothing, as -Banker Ammersley’s autograph is not the seal of Company John. One Holt, -late E.I.C. secretary, whose brain is not so clear as it was, makes a -dismal display in the box, while the courage of Ryland’s friends mounts -high. One Omer, E.I.C. clerk, tries to spot the true bill, but counsel -Peckham involves him in a maze of legerdemain. All the gallant little -host of well-wishers, who have drunk deeply of newspaper canards, and -still more insidious City gossip, are amazed that Hicks’s Hall should -have deemed such evidence worthy of a true bill--amazed, moreover, that -their friend seems to have a chance of escape. - -Suddenly the quick shadow of despair flits across the face of the -prisoner. For a moment the brave, easy self-confidence leaves him -naked to his enemies. Crown counsel Sylvester--who lives in fame as -the judge of maiden Fenning--has played his last card, calling to -the witness-box a calm, unemotional man of commerce, Mr Waterman of -Maidstone, papermaker for twenty years. Then the reason of the Hicks’s -Hall opinion is made clear. Papermaker Waterman brushes aside all -doubts--he made the sheet upon which one of the bills is printed, -recognising the marks of his moulds, distinguishable only by expert -eye. Since this Maidstone Waterman is positive that the paper on which -one of the E.I.C. acceptances is stamped did not reach London till May -1783, it is certain that the first bill which came into the possession -of Ryland was the true one accepted by the Company. Thus two counts of -the indictment are decided--the last bill is the spurious one, and it -was uttered by the prisoner. - -Yet what is the whole significance of this carefully accumulated -evidence! Merely that an amazing forgery has been wrought, and that -Ryland alone, who had the motive and the skill, possessed also the -opportunity. Every heart within the crowded court is filled with pity -for the accused man. Bankers Moreland and Ammersley, though called by -the Crown, have striven to assist the defence. Prosecutors Sylvester, -Rous, and Graham have shown no vindictive spirit. Even stripping Judge -Buller--he who drew up a specification of rod for the benefit of -wife-beaters--strives to find a “chasm in the evidence,” endeavouring -to prove that the honourable servants of the E.I.C. have made a -mistake. Finally, when this big-brained lady-whipping Buller comes to -instruct the jury, he specially commends the prisoner’s defence--read -by the clerk of arraigns, as poor Ryland’s throat is too sore for the -effort--for its matter and good sense. - -Then mercy hides her face, for the youthful judge lays down calmly -the most astounding of eighteenth-century judicial dogmas. “It stands -prisoner,” declares this Buller, “to show how he came by the bill in -order to prove he did not know it to be forged.” So--musty old twiners -of red tape--they cannot fasten the guilt upon the man, thus with -impotent _tu quoque_ they demand that he shall prove his innocence. -Since they cannot rip him open in the witness-box, they shift their own -burden upon his shoulders. Since he cannot prove his innocence, they -deem him guilty, forgetting the good British legal converse of this -proposition. Bewildered by judicial hair-splitting, the jury at last -withdraw. No direct evidence convicts him--circumstances, prejudice -rather, the whispered stories of numerous E.I.C. bills (forgeries all) -that have passed through the hands of the engraver. If one indictment -does not draw, others will follow--he had the motive, means, and -opportunity, and he flew to his razor when the runners came to take -him. Half an hour of such reasoning kneads the brains of jury into -proper hanging shape, and they decide that to Tyburn the prisoner must -go. - -Quiet and brave, as he has been through his long trial, the man in the -dock rises to his feet when his judges return. Courage is stamped on -the strong, deep lines of his face, though the face is white as his -soft ruffles, or as the snowy vest that lies beneath his russet coat. -Coming forward, he listens calmly while they declare him guilty, -bowing to the Bench. A thrill runs through the court when the foreman -pronounces the dread word, but, though all hearts are throbbing with -pain, one fond hope rises in every breast--that the power of a gracious -king will rescue this erring genius from a shameful death. Also, the -poor servant himself thinks first of his royal master; for as he is -conducted back to loathsome Newgate, he tells the friends around him -that, although he has been the victim of persecution, he can perceive a -beam of mercy. Alas, he could not know his sovereign! - -A week later the dreary session draws to a close, and Ryland is -brought up again, and alone, before the rest of the convicts, to hear -his sentence. Calmly and bravely he bears this ordeal like the last. -Already two petitions have been presented at Windsor--one the day -after he was condemned, the other on the thirtieth of the month. It is -supposed that he will be kept alive for a while, since he has begged -that his life may be preserved a little longer, not for his own sake, -but that he may finish some plates for the benefit of his wife and -children. Even the heart of royal George may have been touched by the -piteous request. So the prisoner spends the gloomy days in toiling at -his task, scraping the copper sheets with his stipple-graver, literally -dying in harness. Nor is it inadequate work, for when his printer is -allowed to bring him the proofs he is able to murmur with satisfaction, -“Mr Haddrill, my task is finished!” Yet two pictures after all are -left incomplete, one of which Bartolozzi, to whom he sends to beg the -favour, and who owes him as a master of his craft so much, promises -to take in hand, while jovial William Sharp polishes the other. For -King George, when pressed once more to spare the poor artist because -of his great genius, replies sternly--“No; a man with such ample means -of providing for his wants could not reasonably plead necessity as an -excuse for his crime.” Material logic, worthy of the man! - -On Friday, the 29th of August, dawns the fatal morning. Before nine -o’clock the outer Press Yard is overflowing with sight-seers; but -because of Governor Akerman’s humane order, none are allowed within the -smaller court to disturb the last moments of the unhappy sufferers. -Presently the iron-studded door of the lodge is flung open, and Sheriff -Taylor, bearing his wand of office, enters the prison to demand the -bodies of his victims. Then through the expectant crowd the turnkeys -slowly force a path, and down this narrow lane the malefactors walk -one by one with hideous clank of fetters. On his knees beside a block -of stone a creature with punch and hammer deftly rids them of their -chains. Five times the strident blows echo through the vaulted walls, -while as many unhappy wretches pass into the hands of the hangman’s -lacqueys, busy with their bonds and cords. Last of all comes a slim, -graceful figure, clad in a suit of mourning with white ruffles and -silver shoe-buckles, unencumbered by chains, walking as unconcernedly -as though he were a spectator of the scene. A shudder runs through -the throng as all eyes rest upon the gifted artist, who, as he passes -on, quietly salutes those friends whom he chances to recognise. With -a respectful bow the Sheriff advances and leads the prisoner to the -lodge, away from the crowded quadrangle. - -“Don’t tie Mr Ryland too tight,” he commands the attendants as they -fasten the cords. - -“Never mind, sir,” is the quiet answer; “they give me no uneasiness.” - -All the time he chats calmly to those around, bearing himself in -this, as through all other scenes to the end, as a brave heart and -a gentleman. Then the clatter of arms is heard outside, for the -City Marshal is bringing up his troop. A moment later the door is -thrown back, and from the steps a stentorian voice bellows aloud, -“Mr Ryland’s coach.” With brisk, easy steps he passes out into the -street, closely followed by the attendant Ordinary. Suddenly he springs -forward, and in an instant a tiny girl has thrown her little hands -around his pinioned arms, while he kisses her passionately--his own -daughter, the child of sin. Tenderly they induce him to hasten the -agonising farewell, but his steel-clad soul is steadfast and unshaken. -Tearing himself away, he hurries on with a firm tread. - -Then the procession moves forward. A strong company of Sheriff’s -men and City Marshal’s constables leads the way, parting the dense -surging mob for the progress of the official chariots and the black -mourning-coach that follows next in line. Another carriage, in which -sits one Lloyd, an ex-housebreaker turned psalm-singing penitent, comes -after that of Ryland, and then the pair of loathsome carts with four -more miserable victims. No cant or cowardice marks the bearing of the -poor artist. Unlike the conventional hypocrite of such a time, his lips -do not move in response to the exhortations of white-banded Ordinary -Villette. No prayer-book rests in his fingers. Having made his peace -with God, he does not deign to humour the prejudices of man. Unjustly, -they are sending him to a cruel death. Why should he appear to worship -in the fashion they have chosen? Thus, while the procession moves -onward, his calm, inscrutable face gazes upon the scene that passes -before his eyes. - -An amazing spectacle, this eighteenth-century march to Tyburn, -revealing as completely as the roofless city of romance the human -animal taken unawares. No braver picture of dauntless courage ever has -been displayed in battlefield than the serene victim, tied and bound, -who is drawn along slowly to his shameful death. Though the deep toll -of St Sepulchre’s passing bell may beat in cruel blows against his -heart, as he moves past the old church at whose font his brothers and -sisters were given their Christian names, there is no tremor visible -to the thousands who gloat upon his form. Down the slopes of Snow Hill -runs the quick, eager whisper, for the eyes of all seek but one man, -“Which is Mr Ryland?” And the careless murmur swells into a louder -key, “There he is in the coach--that is he--that is Ryland”--the -heartless babble of a multitude of savages. Thicker and thicker teems -the concourse, as the procession crawls over the bridge and up Holbourn -Hill, swollen like a black, turgid river by streams that flow from -haunts of filth and foulness--the sweepings of the slums. Thieves, -cut-throats, hoarse drunkards, and shrill strumpets join in the -delirious march with the loud, mad tread of a thousand clattering feet. - -Thus they move onward. Within the sable coach the smug Ordinary is -mumbling scraps of Holy Writ pertaining to the time and place, the -valley of the shadow of death. In response, a hundred ribald oaths and -loathsome jests are pealing all around. Within the sable coach the poor -ecstatic housebreaker is piping a quavering hymn, his joints shaking -in palsy, his eyes, which gleam in horrible whiteness, raised to the -skies. All around, the hands of a hundred thieves are busy at work as -they tramp along in this march to the grave. Beyond Chancery Lane the -wide thoroughfare seems to pass into a new world. Although the street -echoes still to the tread of ten thousand squalid footsteps, high up -on either side, at the windows or in the narrow balconies, wealth and -beauty take their part in the mighty spectacle. Sweet, pale faces -look down, while soft, heaving bosoms press the casements. Beings who -might soar amidst the stars are sunk in the mire--all compelled by the -haunting, irresistible tramp rolling onward in the march of death. - -Yet the footsteps never pause. Forward still, winding through St -Giles, the highroad to Tyburn opens to the view. There is no halt now -for the Lazar-house bowl, nor would those fettered men in the carts -wish to quaff it. Huddled together in the first, the three are babbling -supplications; prone and fainting, a half-dying creature is stretched -within the last. In front, the hysterical housebreaker is swaying like -a drunkard on the seat of his coach, still quavering forth his piteous -hymn. Only the artist, whose carriage leads the way to the shambles, -gazing calmly around with grave, stony face, will have no truck with -the cant of humanity. For his thoughts are far distant, fleeing from -the mighty roll of footsteps till they soften to his ears like the -murmur of muffled drums. All around him are visions of bygone days. -Yon narrow road that is pouring forth its human torrent leads to Soho, -where, with the gentle Gwynn, he used to visit the gilded palace of -Therese Cornelys, or that other Carlisle House, the fencing-school of -splendid Angelo. Down that long street is Golden Square, but there is -no pretty Miss Angel to weep for him. And far away, beyond the distant -horizon, lies the palace of his king, but before it there is reared the -gaunt, frightful spectre of the triple tree. - -Then the sound of voices swells louder while the march is stayed. -Through the windows of his coach he can see the three bare posts close -at hand, so that he can almost touch them. Slowly the creaking carts -roll forward, halting beneath the wooden bars, and a sweeping circle of -soldiers spreads itself around. Perched upon the park wall is a long -mass of expectant faces. Here and there rise huge stands, tier upon -tier, choked to the full with swaying humanity. As far as the eye can -reach is a dense, surging throng, crushing forward, ever crushing, as -though eager to press the victims to their doom. - -Presently the black clouds that have been slowly unfurling their -shadows across the August sky burst in a peal of thunder, and the -tempest rushes through the air. Amidst the flashes of lightning, a -fierce rainstorm hurls itself to earth. For a moment the bloody work -must pause, since it is impossible to stand against the blinding -torrents. Half an hour passes. Then the deluge ceases as suddenly as it -arose. Hastily the Sheriff gives his orders, and soon expert hands have -arranged the ropes around the necks of the three rain-soaked wretches -in the cart. Swiftly the second tumbril, in which the sick man is lying -prostrate, backs to the coach where sits the penitent housebreaker, and -he is summoned to the gallows. In a few moments the halters are placed -upon their heads, while the contrite thief entreats the multitude to -take warning from his fate. At last, when all is ready, they call upon -Mr Ryland. Springing lightly down the steps, he mounts the cart, and -stands beside his two fellow-sufferers--a brave, graceful gentleman in -black, quiet and unflinching. Strange contrast indeed to the swooning -creature on the floor, or to the noisy burglar, who shrieks to heaven, -wringing his hands. Ordinary Villette comes forward, pressing his -holy attentions upon the unhappy artist, who listens to him calmly -and respectfully, while close at hand his wretched companions pray -long and loud. Suddenly there is a shrill, wailing sound, rising and -falling in equal cadence with the see-saw rhythm of a hymn, “The -Sinner’s Lamentation,” which four terror-stricken creatures, with their -heads thrown back, bellow loudly to the skies. And all this time, -firm, motionless, inscrutable, bearing even the greatest ignominy--the -contact of these foul ones--without a tremor, Wynne Ryland stands -silent, waiting for the last cruel moment. Swiftly it comes. His face -is covered, the hangman lashes his horse, the foothold sweeps from -beneath, and he passes into oblivion. To the other five who sway in the -air at his elbow (save one) death also is merciful. - -A holiday of butchery, cries Mercy; yea, and more, a holiday in which -butchery alone has a part, giving naught that chance or strength or -valour might lend its victim; butchery a thousand times more squalid -than that of the noble Roman. Ah, but it is the pious retribution of -majestic laws, declares the spirit of those times; the just conclusion -of the social contract; butchery, alas! for these poor victims can have -no resemblance to the gladiators of the arena. Yes, indeed, retorts -Mercy; it is the vengeance of the sacred majesty of commerce, whose -garments have been soiled by the hands of these malefactors, which -cannot be appeased by the code of savages, an eye for an eye, a life -for a life. Yet ’tis stern for the sake of utility, pleads the spirit; -harsh for the public good, so that the evil-doer may be terrified to -the advantage of all innocence, and to the encouragement of a Christian -life. But what of that handsome youth, is the reply, whose face is -seared by vice, and whose hand is in the fob of your sleek, well-fed -City merchant: is this one dismayed by these six dangling victims on -the tree? No, answers the spirit; but we must not adopt a universal -conclusion from a particular case, for how can we judge how many of the -tempted have been saved from crime by the terrible example of the fatal -rope? True in logic, false in truth, Mercy well may thunder--a valid -deduction from _conditional_ premiss, but the terms of jurisprudence -should not be qualified by an ‘if’ Thus, surely, unless we admit the -old Hebrew ‘eye for an eye’ dogma, must we view all legal punishments -that deprive a fellow-creature of his life. Alas, that we are -controlled by the logic of other times! - -The same coach that conveyed William Wynne Ryland along the road to -Tyburn brought back his dead body to his friends. Five days later--on -Thursday, the 3rd of September--they took him to the tiny churchyard -of Feltham, beyond Hounslow, where his father and mother had been laid -to rest. For a long time after his death Mrs Ryland continued to keep -a print-shop at the corner of Berners Street, where her husband’s -engravings commanded a large sale. Subsequently she transferred her -business to New Bond Street. From contemporary newspapers we learn that -the Ryland plates were much sought after in Paris when his untimely -fate became known. Nine years later, on the 20th of October 1792, the -unhappy wife went to join her husband in the little grass-plot of the -village by the Thames. - -With the exception of that mighty scholar Eugene Aram, the eighteenth -century never suffered deeper loss by the hangman’s rope than in the -death of brave and graceful Wynne Ryland. Just as the marvellous usher -is the greatest of schoolmen, so is the Strand engraver incomparably -the greatest artist that ended his days upon the scaffold. With -him the dissolute and passionate Theodore Gardelle can no more be -contrasted than poet Gahagan with the former. Yet, unlike the sombre -Aram, poor Ryland did not bear the stain of blood upon his hands. Nor -was the evidence of his guilt less open to doubt. Because he failed -to prove his innocence they sent him to his death. Still, although -there was no lack of tears and lamentation, his cruel fate did not -excite the same interest nor cause the universal consternation that -was aroused in similar cases. Neither Horace Walpole, Mrs Delany, nor -George Selwyn speak his name, and gossip Tom Smith merely mentions him -incidentally in a list of engravers. A reason is not far to seek. Not -being a man of fashion, how was it possible that an epoch which had -beheld so many stupendous melodramas should be greatly shocked by his -atonement? Preacher Dodd, the pet of devout ladies; the unfortunate -brothers over whom the charms of Margaret Rudd cast the halo of -romance; soldier-parson Hackman, with his love and madness; poisonous -Captain Donellan of Lawford Hall--all these magnificent criminals had -lately made the march to Tyburn, or elsewhere. Little wonder that -society, _ennuyé_ by the sight of the gallows, had lost its zest for -convict-worship. - -To say that William Wynne Ryland might have been the greatest engraver -that the world has seen would be to state an equivocal proposition, -since modern print-science, to which the splendid art has given -birth, scarce realises comparative methods, and has no complete list -of precise terms. Yet the assertion that none have ever excelled him -as a creator of the coloured stipple is a mere platitude. Also, it -would be difficult to name any other artist who has produced finer -work in all the three great branches of engraving--line, dot, and -mezzotint. Still, like every rolling stone, he suggests rather than -demonstrates the possession of superlative powers. Although few surpass -him as a draughtsman, colourist, and craftsman, he shares the fate of -all who pursue unworthy models. While the fair Kauffman sinks into -insignificance in contrast to Sir Joshua, the man who translated her -pictures into their popular form is worthy to take his place beside -all the masters who fashioned engravings after Reynolds. Through the -whole of his life it is the same. In careless vigour he speeds along -the difficult paths that lead to the golden mountain-tops, but never -reaches the summit. To Wale or to Oudry he gives more than to François -Boucher. Smiling Ramsay and courtly Bute snatch him from his allegiance -to the mighty Italians. Always opportunist, the pleasures of the world -entangle him amidst a stifling undergrowth, where his wings may not -expand to bear him aloft, free and unconfined. - -Nor are his copies of Angelica the best that she can offer. In humble -servitude he seems to take all that is given to him. The slave of -popular taste, unlike Bartolozzi he never casts off his shackles. A -simpering Venus, an over-fed Cupid, a Grecian warrior with a feminine -frame--these are the subjects upon which he wastes his powers. Even -when opportunity comes to draw a human portrait in the person of a -noble woman, he has to struggle against the mockery of a burlesque -dress--furled Turkish trousers, or a Grecian turban. Yet how different -is the obvious ideal! Since he could transform the work of ‘Miss Angel’ -with such wondrous art, conjecture may dream of entrancing pictures -after Gainsborough, in miniature, but in perfect semblance, glowing -with all the gorgeous tints of the great master. - -An illustrious feather-pate, gazing with idolatry upon his own modern -photograph, has screamed, “Camera beats the brush! Look upon that -picture, and then presume to tell me that Rembrandt or Velasquez has -fashioned its equal.” Obviously, for those painters never had such a -model as illustrious feather-pate. Yet feather-pate but babbles the -gibberish of his times. All who inveigh against soulless lithograph or -poll-parrot photography, saying that monarchs of the brush are with us -still whose works are worthy of the engraver’s steel, cry as prophets -of the wilderness. “Camera beats the print,” shrieks Cosmos; “magna est -vilitas, et prævalebit.” Thus poor Cinderella, who never went to the -ball with her more gorgeous sisters, is driven even from her home in -the kitchen. - -Still, could some god transport Wynne Ryland from the sunny plains, -he would find work for his hand as alluring as the canvas of Angelica -Kauffman. In the gossamer creations of such as Alma Tadema and Blair -Leighton, the soft-coloured print might begin a new life. Is it too -late to hope that ere he passed over the dark river he left his mantle -upon the shore? - - - - -BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE RYLAND CASE - - -I. CONTEMPORARY AUTHORITIES - -1. _Authentic Memoires of William Wynne Ryland._ Printed for J. Ryall, -No. 17 Lombard Street, 1784. Brit. Mus. - - As these _Authentic Memoires_ do not present a very lucid - account, it is necessary to place the principal events of Wynne - Ryland’s career in chronological order:-- - - Born November 2, 1733, in St John’s Street, Clerkenwell; the - third son and fifth child of Edward and Mary Ryland. - - Baptized December 2, at St Martin’s Church, Ludgate, where his - name appears in the register as William Wynn. - - Studied at St Martin’s Lane Academy--probably during the latter - half of the forties. - - If, as is generally stated, he served an apprenticeship of five - years with Ravenet, he must have been bound to that engraver - before 1750. - - The second volume of _Les Fables choisies de la Fontaine_, with - illustrations after Oudry, shows that he was in Paris in 1755. - Having studied for two years under Le Bas, it would seem that - he went to Boucher about 1757. According to most accounts he - remained abroad for five years. - - Probably he was in England in 1761, for several of his - red-chalk engravings after the old master were finished during - the next year. - - In April 1762 he published at Lichfield Street, Soho, an - engraving of George III., after Ramsay. - - In February 1763 his engraving of Lord Bute, after Ramsay, was - finished. - - From 1763-67 he was engaged upon the portrait of George III. in - his Coronation Robes, after Ramsay. - - In the spring of 1765 he visited Paris on a commission for the - King (_v._ Journal of J. G. Wille). - - In 1767 he was living in Stafford Row, Pimlico. - - From 1767-69 he was engaged upon the portrait of the Queen, - after Cotes. - - In 1767 or 1768 he entered into partnership with his late - pupil, Henry Bryer, at 27 Cornhill. This firm became bankrupt - in December 1771. - - In 1772 he was living at Queen’s Row, Knightsbridge, and in - 1773 near the Hammersmith turnpike. - - In 1774 he opened his print-shop, No. 159 in the Strand. - - On November 4, 1782, he deposited the forged bill on the East - India Company with Messrs Ransome, Moreland & Ammersley, - bankers. - - On the 1st of April 1783 he fled from his home at - Knightsbridge, and the advertisement offering £300 for his - arrest was published in the newspapers on April 3. - -2. _A Catalogue of Mr Ryland’s Exhibition_ at Mr Pollard’s in -Piccadilly. Brit. Mus. - -3. _Exhibition Catalogue of Incorporated Society of Artists_, 1761-69. -“In their Great Room in Spring Gardens, Charing Cross.” Brit. Mus. - -The following were Ryland’s exhibits:-- - - 1761. No. 215. A Print of “Jupiter and Leda,” after Boucher. - - 1767. No. 217. A Print of his Majesty in his Coronation Robes after Ramsay. - - 1769. No. 301. Two Drawings. - - No. 302. One Drawing. - -4. _Catalogue of the Royal Academy._ 1772-1775. Brit. Mus. The -exhibits of Ryland, with their dates, are as follows:-- - - 1772. No. 227. Vortigern falling in love with Rowena--after A. Kauffman. - - No. 228. The interview between Edgar and Elfrida after her marriage - with Athelwald--after A. Kauffman. - - No. 229. A Portrait of a child drawing. - - 1773. No. 259. Domestic Employment--a drawing. - - 1774. No. 255. A Frame with sundry Portraits. - - No. 256. ” ” ” - - 1775. No. 268. Juno borrowing the Cestus from Venus. A Drawing in - red chalk, after A. Kauffman. - -5. _Dodd’s Memoires of English Engravers_, xi. pp. 104-110. Add. MSS. -33404. Brit. Mus. - -6. _Joseph Strutt’s Biog. Dic. of Engravers_ (1785-6), ii. 285. Brit. -Mus. - -7. _A Collection of Prints in Imitation of Drawings._ 2 vols. 1778. -Edited by Charles Rogers. Brit. Mus. - - Ryland contributed fifty-seven plates. These two volumes should - be included in any collection of Ryland’s works. - -8. _Nichol’s Literary Anecdotes_ (1813). Vol. iii. 256, vol. v. 668, -681, 686. - -9. _Reminiscences of Henry Angelo._ 2 vols. London, 1828-30. Vol. i. -pp. 473-83. New Edition by Joseph Grego and H. Lavers Smith. Kegan -Paul. 1904. Vol. i. pp. 366, 370-75. - - Ryland was a frequent visitor at the fencing and riding school, - which the elder Angelo had established at Carlisle House, - Carlisle Street, and which, oddly enough, was the second - building of that name in Soho Square. - -10. _Mémoires et Journal de J. G. Wille._ 2 vols. Jules Renouard. -Paris, 1857. Vol. i. pp. 287, 288. - - Wille met Ryland in Paris on April 17, April 18, and May 9, - 1765. He tells us that he had been acquainted with him when the - English engraver was in France seven or eight years previously - (_i.e._ in 1757-1758), which dates fit in with other known - incidents of Ryland’s life. - - -II. CONTEMPORARY NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES - -1. _The Gentleman’s Magazine_ (1771), p. 572; (1778), p. 594; (1783), -part i. pp. 359, 443; part ii. pp. 626, 710, 714; (1808), part i. p. 87. - - 2. _The European Magazine_ (1783), part ii. pp. 158, 172-173. - - 3. _The Morning Post_, April-August 1783. - - 4. _The Morning Chronicle_, do. - - 5. _The Morning Herald_, do. - - 6. _The London Chronicle_, do. - - 7. _The Public Advertiser_, do. - - 8. _The Daily Advertiser_, do. - - 9. _The General Advertiser_, do. - - 10. _The Whitehall Evening Post_, do. - - 11. _The London Recorder_, do. - - 12. _Ayre’s Sunday London Gazette_, do. - - 13. _The Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser_, do. - - 14. _Lloyds Evening Post_, do. - - The most complete account of the trial will be found in the - _Morning Post_, Monday, July 28, 1783. Those who are interested - in the much-debated question whether the site of the ‘Tyburn - Tree’ was in Connaught Square, Bryanston Street, or Upper - Seymour Street, would do well to remember that on August 29, - 1783 (so the papers tell us), the gallows were placed fifty - yards nearer the park wall than usual. Naturally, its position - was changed from time to time. - - -NOTES - -NOTE I.--_Dic. Nat. Biog._ The date of Ryland’s birth is given as July -1732! Nor was he the eldest, but the _third_ son of his father. - -NOTE II.--_Eighteenth Century Colour Prints._ Mrs Julia Frankau. -Macmillan (1900). - -Mrs Frankau’s explanation of the flight of Ryland is scarcely -plausible. It is not credible that a man who is engaged in a frantic -search for a lost mistress would remain in close hiding, posing as -an invalid, only venturing abroad after dark. Nor is it a tenable -assumption that he attempted to commit suicide in a fit of despair -because he fancied that he was being arrested for debt, and thus might -lose all chance of finding his _chère amie_. One of the strongest -pleas in his defence was that his fortune was ‘princely’ and he -protested that he fled because he could not find the man from whom -he had received the fatal bill. It is a strange coincidence that the -discovery of the fraud upon the East India Company should have taken -place on the eve of his disappearance. Moreover, he was not arrested -for the forgery that secured his conviction. The warrant charged him -with counterfeiting two other bills of exchange to the value of £7114 -(as reference to the advertisement columns of the daily papers of April -3 will show), and it was not until this publicity that Mr Moreland, -the banker, examined the bill for £210, which Ryland had deposited -with his house. Thus the accusation of one crime led to the discovery -of another! And it is still more strange that the artist should have -cashed an East India Company bill of the value of £210 on September 19, -1782, while on November 4 he should have handed to his banker another -bill--an exact copy of the first--bearing a similar date, denomination, -and acceptances. Although these two identical bills came into Ryland’s -possession within the space of a few weeks, he did not seek an -explanation of the remarkable coincidence. A careful survey of all the -facts must convince everyone of the guilt of the unfortunate engraver, -but it is a pleasure to be able to agree with Mrs Frankau--except -in some minor details--in her contention that the evidence was not -conclusive. Ryland was convicted because he failed to show that he had -received the forged bill from another person, and to cast thus the -burden of proof from the prosecution to the defence is quite foreign to -the methods of a modern tribunal. - -Since the Catholic has become the spoilt child of contemporary -literature, it is not surprising to find Wynne Ryland hailed as -the victim of Protestant persecution. Yet there appears to be no -evidence to support this assumption. There is not a line in the -newspapers of the day to indicate that any anti-Romanist feeling was -aroused, and had such been the case, the _Public Advertiser_, at all -events, whose animosity towards ‘Popery’ is sufficiently evident, -would have trumpeted loudly. It is significant that the mob never -behaved with greater propriety--very unusual conduct in the howling -Tyburn crowd--than on August 29, 1783. How different would it have -been if the word had been whispered that a Papist was going to the -gallows! Strutt and Angelo, who write so sympathetically of their -friend, have nothing to say on this subject, and, indeed, accept his -guilt as proved. Although the former, who wrote in 1785, might have -reason for reticence, yet the latter, whose book was published a -year before the Emancipation Act, could have no reason to suppress -such evidence. Indeed, we have only the doubtful authority of the -_Authentic Memoires_ for the statement that Ryland was a ‘supposed’ -Catholic in his early youth. With this very ambiguous suggestion we -must reconcile the strange fact that he was buried in a graveyard of -the Established Church, and that the last rites were performed by -an Anglican clergyman. There are one or two slips of the pen in Mrs -Frankau’s interesting memoir. As the catalogue of the Royal Academy -shows that Ryland contributed his first drawing in 1772--four years -after the institution was established--he was not “one of the earliest -exhibitors.” From the same catalogue it appears that the print-shop -in the Strand was opened in 1774. The date of the publication of the -_Authentic Memoires_, given as 1794, is, of course, a clerical error. -Owing to the footnote attached to Ryland’s letter to Francis Donaldson -of Liverpool, printed in the _Morning Post_, September 2, 1783, the -document must be regarded with suspicion. No trivial disagreement -with the conclusions of Mrs Frankau can diminish the interest of her -delightful account of the great engraver, which must remain the most -valuable of recent monographs. - -NOTE III.--There are references to W. W. Ryland in the innumerable -dictionaries of painters and engravers, French, German, and English, -such as Basan, Le Blanc, Portalis and Beraldi, Andreas Andrescen, -Redgrave, Bryan, etc. One of the best of modern notices will be found -in the _Print Collectors’ Handbook_, by Alfred Whitman. - - - - -A LIST OF WILLIAM WYNNE RYLAND’S ENGRAVINGS. - -(By RUTH BLEACKLEY.) - - - 1. Les Grâces au Bain, after Boucher. } - 2. La Belle Dormeuse, do. } - 3. Le Repose Champêtre, do. } - 4. Vue d’un pont, do. } - 5. Berger passant une rivière, do. } 1757-60 - 6. La petite Repose, do. } - 7. La Bonne Mère, do. } - 8. La Marchande d’Oiseaux, do. } - 9. I. and II. Vue de Fronville, do. } - 10. Jupiter and Leda, do. } - - 11. George III., King of Great Britain. Published April 1762. - - 12. John Stuart, 3rd Earl of Bute--after Allan Ramsay. Published - February 1763. - - 13. George III. in State Robes--after Allan Ramsay. Published 1767. - - 14. George III. (bust). - - 15. Queen Charlotte with infant (Princess Royal)--after Cotes. - Published 1769. - - 16. Diogenes--after Salvator Rosa. Published 1771. - - 17. Antiochus and Stratonice--after P. da Cortona. Published 1772. - - 18. General Stanwix’s Daughter--after Angelica Kauffman (called also - “The Pensive Muse”). Published in colours 1774. - - 19. Hope--after A. Kauffman--(a portrait of herself). Published in - colours, February 7, 1775. - - 20. A Lady in a Turkish Dress--after A. Kauffman. Oval in colours. - Published May 1, 1775. - - 21. A Lady in a Greek Dress--(the Duchess of Richmond)--after A. - Kauffman. Published November 20, 1775. - - 22. Narcissus. Drawn and engraved by Ryland. Published January 12, - 1775. - - 23. Domestick Employment. Drawn and engraved by Ryland, in colours. - Published September 13, 1775. - - 24. Faith--after A. Kauffman. Published 1776. - - 25. Dormio Innocuus--after A. Kauffman. Circle in colours. Published - May 21, 1776. - - 26. Olim Truncus--after A. Kauffman. Circle in colours and red. - Published, first state, April 3; second state, May 1, 1776. - - 27. Juno cestum a Venere Postulat--after A. Kauffman. Circle in - colours and red. Published January 1, 1777. - - 28. Achilles lamenting the Death of his friend Patroclus--after - A. Kauffman. Published December 4, 1777, in colours and red. - - 29. Patience--after A. Kauffman. Published May 27, 1777. - - 30. Perseverance--after A. Kauffman. Published June 24, 1777. - - 31. Cupid Bound, with Nymphs breaking his Bow--after A. Kauffman. - Published March 17, 1777. - - 32. Telemachus returns to Penelope--after A. Kauffman, in colours. - Published December 4, 1777. - - 33. Venus in her Triumphal Chariot--after A. Kauffman, in colours - and red. Published September 7, 1778. - - 34. Charles Rogers--mezzotint after Sir Joshua Reynolds. Published - 1778. - - 35. Cleopatra decorating the Tomb of Mark Antony--after A. Kauffman. - Published March 25, 1778, in colours. - - 36. Telemachus at the Court of Sparta--after A. Kauffman, in colours. - Published 1778. - - 37. The Judgment of Paris--after A. Kauffman, in colours and red. - Published January 17, 1778. - - 38. Maria Moulins--after A. Kauffman. Published 1779, in colours - and red. - - 39. Eloisa--after A. Kauffman. Oval in colours and red. Published - 1779. - - 40. Britannia directing Painting, Sculpture and Architecture to - address themselves to Royal Munificence, etc.--after Cipriani, - in colours and red. Published August 18, 1779. - - 41. Marianne. Drawn and engraved by Ryland. In colours and red. - Published January 3, 1780. - - 42. Eleanor sucking the poison from the wound of King Edward--after - A. Kauffman. Published March 1, 1780, in colours. - - 43. Lady Elizabeth Grey imploring pardon for her husband--after A. - Kauffman. Published 1780, in colours and red. - - 44. The Flight of Paris and Helen--after A. Kauffman. Published 1781. - - 45. Venus presenting Helen to Paris--after A. Kauffman. Published - 1781. - - 46. Cymon and Iphigenia--after A. Kauffman. Circle in colours. - Published January 15, 1782. - - 47. Morning Amusement--after A. Kauffman. Published March 1, 1784. - - 48. King John signing the Magna Charta--after Mortimer. Published - 1785. This plate was finished after Ryland’s death by Bartolozzi - and published by the widow. - - 49. Interview between Edgar and Elfrida--after A. Kauffman. Published - 1786. According to Bryan’s _Dictionary_ this plate was finished - by W. Sharp and published by the widow. - - 50. Donald MacLeod, aged 102--after W. R. Bigg. Published 1790. - - The following I am unable to date:-- - - 51. John, Duke of Lauderdale. - - 52. Henry, 7th Baron Digby. - - 53. Churchill, Duke of Marlborough. - - 54. Charity--after Van Dyck. - - 55. The Muse Erato--after Joseph Zucchi. - - 56. Les Muses (Urania, Clio, Thalia, and Erato)--after Cipriani. - - 57. Sir John Falstaff raising Recruits--after F. Hayman. - - 58. Interior of a Dutch Cabaret with peasants dancing--after R. - Brackenberg. - - 59. Penelope awakened by Euryclea--after A. Kauffman. - - 60. Religion--after A. Kauffman. - - 61. Ludit Amabiliter--after A. Kauffman. Circle in colours. - - 62. Penelope hanging up the Bow of Ulysses--after A. Kauffman. - - 63. Achilles discovered by Ulysses in the disguise of a Virgin--after - A. Kauffman. - - 64. Andromache weeping over the ashes of Hector--after A. Kauffman. - - 65. Samma at Benoni’s Grave--after A. Kauffman. - -_Note._--The _Morning Herald_, May 5, and the _Morning Post_, August -28, 1783, state that Ryland left unfinished a plate of the Battle of -Agincourt, after Mortimer. - -[Illustration: _Sir Joshua Reynolds Pinx._ _John Boydell excudit, -1780._ _F. Bartolozzi Sculpsit._ - -ANGELICA KAUFFMAN, - -_Ex. Academia Regali Artium Londini_ - -Published Septʳ. 3; 1780 by John Boydell, London.] - - - - -BOOK ILLUSTRATIONS - - -1. The Book of Common Prayer. Published by Edward Ryland, May 1, 1755. -Nine plates by Ryland--after S. Wale. - -2. The Book of Common Prayer in Welsh (1770), with the same plates as -in former edition. - -3. The Complete Angler, by Isaac Walton, edited by Sir John Hawkins. -With fourteen plates, dated 1759, by Ryland--after S. Wale. First -edition 1760. - -4. “Les Fables choisies de la Fontaine.” Illustrated by J. B. Oudry -(1755-59). Seven plates by Ryland in vols. ii., iii., and iv. - -5. L’Ecole Des Armes. Par M. Angelo. A Londres: chez R. & J. Dodsley, -Pall Mall. February 1763. Second edition 1765. With forty-seven plates. -A few copies in colours. Ryland engraved fourteen of these plates. -Hall, Grignion, Elliot, and Chamber did the rest--all after drawings by -John Gwynn. Thus Henry Angelo’s account of this work is inaccurate. - -6. A Collection of Prints in Imitation of Drawings. Edited by Charles -Rogers. Published London 1778. Contains fifty-seven plates by Ryland in -addition to the mezzotint portrait of Rogers. - -7. The School of Fencing, by D. Angelo, edited by Henry Angelo. 1787. -With forty-seven plates, the same as in the first edition. This book -is not well edited, as the letterpress does not always agree with the -pictures. - -_Note._--In every case the date of the engraving has been copied from -an existing impression. Possibly there are earlier and later states. - - - - -A SOP TO CERBERUS - -THE CASE OF GOVERNOR WALL, 1782-1802 - - “He wandered here, he wandered there, - A fugitive like Cain, - And mourned, like him, in dark despair - A brother rashly slain.” - - --_A Tale without a Name._ JAMES MONTGOMERY. - - -On the 26th of August 1782, a captain in the army, named Joseph Wall, -just come home from foreign service, sat down to compose his report to -the Secretary of State. A glance would tell that he was one of those -chosen by destiny to rule man and enslave woman. Although the swift, -hot courage of the Celt shone in his fearless eyes and slumbered in -his rough-hewn features, the beetling brow, resolute jaw, and fierce, -mobile mouth were softened by the gentle mesmeric charm that marks all -of his race. In stature he was a giant; while his sweeping shoulders, -which towered above the heads of most, the thick, gnarled fingers and -stalwart limbs, indicated a mighty strength. For the rest, he was a -clean-looking man, with light brown hair and a fresh complexion. Yet -the dull grey lines in his face told that the tropics had levied that -tax upon his physique which the British soldier is ever eager to pay. - -[Illustration: _Etched by J. Chapman_ - -GOVERNOR WALL. - -_Published by J. Cundee Ivy Lane Janʸ, 1804_] - -There was nothing of moment in the officer’s report to Secretary -Townshend. It was merely a rough account of the termination of his -stewardship while Governor for eighteen months at the island of Goree. -Mere chance had thrown this tiny sun-baked rock once more into the -possession of Great Britain. Three years previously the French fleet -under de Vaudreuil, _en route_ to the West Indies, sweeping down upon -Senegal, had seized the English posts at Fort Lewis and Fort James. The -victory of Sir Edward Hughes had reversed the position. By the capture -of the island of Goree, which nestles south of Cape Verde scarcely -three miles from the mainland, the approach to the enemies’ settlements -on the opposite shore was placed in the hands of England. Being a -station of some importance for trading purposes, owing to its proximity -to two great rivers of West Africa, a British garrison remained there -during the course of the war. Though deemed less unhealthy than the -coast, its climate was deadly. Not a mile in length, and scarcely more -than a quarter in breadth, the men had little scope for exercise. All -ranks detested the place. The regiment was composed of the riff-raff of -the army; the officers were those who could get no other appointment. - -Joseph Wall was worthy of better things. Nature had made him one -of those soldiers of fortune whom his native land has sent forth -unceasingly year by year into the armies of every country in the world. -About the time of George III.’s accession he had flung aside the -religion of his fathers to obtain a commission, and two years later, at -the age of twenty-five, the young Irishman saw his first fight in the -West Indies. His fiery valour during the storming of Fort Moro gained -him promotion, and he returned home from Havannah in 1762 with the rank -of captain. Fate, however, robbed him of his birthright, for twelve -years of weary peace laid their rust upon his restless soul. Soon an -appointment under Company John took him to Bombay, but opportunity -never came to draw his sword in a war of nations. At the close of his -residence in India he returned to his father’s home, Abbeyleix, in -Queen’s County, a sad example of him whom fortune welcomes with a smile -and then turns away her face for ever. The keen spirit that could find -no outlet under arms was ill fitted for the civilian’s life. Joseph -Wall, the soldier of fortune, possessed none of the grace of humour -which might have softened his red, untamable temper. Broils innumerable -led to many a bloody duel, and on one occasion--so tradition -relates--he crossed swords with ‘Fighting Fitzgerald’ Rumour credits -him also with the death of a faithful friend, and, ’tis said, _dux -femina facti_. Indeed, several affairs of gallantry stain his record, -and once he was called upon to answer an insult to a lady in a court of -justice. - -At last he sought active service once more. The British colony -that borders the river Gambia in North-West Africa offered him -employment, and Fort James, a station on the estuary, became his home. -Unfortunately, Colonel Macnamara, the Lieutenant-Governor, was a man -of similar disposition to his young officer, and during August 1776 -the inevitable encounter took place. Wall, on the plea of ill-health, -happening to disregard one of the orders of his superior, was cast -into prison without trial, and was immured for nine months. An action -at law, which appears to have been heard during the year 1779, was the -result, and the jury, who, guided by Lord Mansfield, held the opinion -that Colonel Macnamara had acted with unnecessary severity, ordered him -to pay the sum of a thousand pounds to the victim of his tyranny. - -Previously, having returned to England, the Irishman had become -fortune-hunter, and cut a dash at Bath or Harrogate, searching in vain -for his rich heiress. Such a precarious existence could not endure, and -during the year 1780, Joseph Wall, whose finances were at a low ebb, -again was compelled to seek employment. The command of the recently -captured island of Goree was going a-begging--two Governors having -succumbed to the climate in a space of eighteen months--and he accepted -the post. Its perquisites were considerable; for as the control of the -vast trade along the coast of Senegambia was in his hands, there were -endless chances of lucrative commissions and levying extortion upon the -native chiefs. Huge inflammable Wall was just the man to tame and cow -the rebellious gaol-birds who formed his garrison, and he ruled them -with a hand of steel. Neither men nor officers loved his methods. As -ships touched but seldom at this far-distant port, the soldiers were -called upon often to submit to short commons. A glance from the fiery -Governor quelled the murmurs, for a merciless flogging was the fate of -the unlucky one upon whom his eye rested for a second time. Even the -iron frame of Joseph Wall was soon conquered by the deadly climate. In -less than two years he was compelled to send in his resignation. On the -11th of July 1782 he quitted the arid rock, and, his ship being lucky -enough to avoid the cruisers of France and Spain, he landed safely -at Portsmouth before the end of August. Thus it came about that this -soured and disappointed man sent his report to Mr Townshend. - -Joseph Wall was only in his forty-sixth year. Although his health had -broken down temporarily, he was capable still of a long period of -active service. But the unkind fate that had offered his only chance at -the close of the Seven Years’ War, and had kept him styed in Senegambia -during the struggle with the American colonies, was smoothing the way -for the younger Pitt and his ten years’ peace. Thus fortune sports -with nations, giving to one Frederick, to another Daun, working -miracles with Chatham, or assisting Choiseul to open the flood-gates -of a deluge. Lucky, indeed, for humanity that every man has not his -opportunity. Valour was not lacking in the British officers who fought -at Lexington, at Bunker’s Hill or Saratoga, but theirs was no mate to -the courage of those who did battle against them beneath the shadow of -the rope. During the early years of the American War a hundred Joseph -Wall might have erected a forest of gibbets and have made the colony -a second Poland, but the United States never would have survived its -birth. It is far better as it is. Truly, there were giants in those -days--cruel, untamable giants, but capable of superhuman achievements; -and though from time to time we cast off their chains, bidding them -stalk through a world of slaughter, yet, to the credit of our race, the -spirit even of that robust age kept them mostly in their dungeons of -obscurity. - -For only ten months did the Irish soldier of fortune enjoy his -retirement undisturbed. Dark rumours had been whispered of his bloody -régime in West Africa, and one Captain Roberts made grave accusations, -of which, however, a court-martial at the Horse Guards took little -heed--merely censuring the giant tenderly in minor matters, as the -beating of a sentry, with a humorous rider that the man got what he -deserved. They are tedious complaints, such as rise to the lips of the -slack and spiteful when a strenuous commander insists upon a rattle of -bones. It was not until the troopship _Willington_ brought home the -remainder of the garrison of Goree--now ceded to the French--that a -more substantial charge was laid against the ex-Governor. In a few days -the newspapers announced that the surgeon and a couple of officers, who -had been examined before the Privy Council, had presented a terrible -indictment of cruelty against their late commander. Towards the end -of February 1784, two men set out for Bath to take Joseph Wall into -custody. Although distressed by the warrant, he submitted quietly, -merely asking that a lady friend should be allowed to accompany him -to London. The ‘Castle Inn,’ Marlborough, was the first halting-place -on the journey along the most famous of coach-roads, and on the 1st -of March, the next evening, they rested at the old ‘Brown Bear’ in -Reading. Here Captain Wall protested that his custodians should not -occupy the same bedroom as himself; and to humour him, as ordinary -mortals are in the habit of humouring a restive giant, they agreed to -remain in an adjoining chamber. A drop to the ground from a first-floor -window was not the obstacle to deter the untamable soldier, and the -next morning the police-officers found that their captive had vanished. -A reward of £200 was offered for his apprehension on the 8th of March, -the day on which he is believed to have set foot on French soil. It -is understood that he wrote to a friend, stating he should surrender -for trial as soon as the popular clamour against him had died away, -and it is certain that he sent a letter containing a similar promise -to Secretary Townshend, now Lord Sydney, on the 15th of October -of the same year. This intention, however, was not fulfilled, and -gradually the case of Governor Wall, whose cruelty had excited so much -indignation, faded from public memory. - -The cause of his arrest was an incident that occurred on the eve of -his departure from Goree in 1782. For some time the felon soldiers -under his command had been muttering low growls of discontent. Short -allowance had been their lot for a long period, and the fear arose -that the usual compensation would not be paid unless they received it -before the Governor left the island. On the 10th of July preparations -were hastened for Wall’s departure. All was bustle at the storekeeper’s -office, where a servant was packing the commander’s luggage. No doubt -it was whispered among the men that the home-bound vessel would carry a -wealth of merchandise, which by right should be left for the garrison. -Early in the morning the Governor observed a body of soldiers, twenty -or more, marching across the hot sand towards his residence, where -they had no right to intrude. Though enraged at this evidence of -insubordination, he merely gave an order that they should retire. Two -hours later, a still larger number was seen approaching Government -House. Wall went out into the blazing tropical sunlight to meet them. -So determined were they to vent their grievances that they did not -pause to consider that this act was flagrant mutiny. Since their -commanding officer had forbidden a similar gathering, the right course -was to send a deputation to the Governor, explaining their demands -through the proper channels. - -That Wall considered the situation was serious, is proved by the fact -that he temporised with the men, dismissing them without any threat -of serious punishment. In later days he protested--which version was -endorsed by several eye-witnesses--that the conduct of the soldiers -who spoke to him was insolent and menacing, and that he induced them -to disperse by a promise to consider their claims. At all events, he -came to no decision until he had taken counsel with his officers, whom -he met, as usual, at the two o’clock dinner. The methods adopted show -that elaborate precautions were deemed necessary in order to avoid -a grave disturbance. Roll-call was sounded about an hour before the -proper time, and as the pink flush of evening was stealing over the -burning rock the soldiers assembled on parade. Unaware that reprisals -were contemplated, the corps was drawn up in a half-circle within -the ramparts, in the centre of which stood the Governor and his four -available officers. As the men were falling in, or perhaps a little -while before, another case of insubordination arose. Word was brought -that there was a mutiny in the main guard. Away hurried the intrepid -commander to the scene of the disturbance. Snatching a bayonet from the -hands of a drunken sentry, the angry giant belaboured the man lustily, -and thrust back an excited soldier named George Paterson, one of the -ringleaders of the morning, who was about to break from the guard-room. - -Having thus smothered this miniature rebellion, the Governor, whose -inflammable temper had burst its bonds, hastened back to the parade -ground. In those robust times a commanding officer had rude methods -of dealing with disobedient soldiers, and Wall had no tender scruples -against straining to the utmost all the power that martial law had -given him. Yet in spite of his bloody tyranny, it is impossible not to -admire the courage of the stout-hearted Irishman. The whole regiment, -two-thirds of which was composed of civil or military convicts who had -exchanged prison life for servitude on the deadly island, loathed his -authority. A few miles off on the coast lay the French settlements, -where English rebels would be sure of an eager welcome. There were -but seven officers to support the Governor, and one of these, who -sympathised with the claims of the soldiers, was under arrest. Except -half a dozen artillery-men and some blacks, the remainder of the -garrison belonged to the ill-conditioned African corps--a hundred and -fifty strong. One bold leader might have raised a swift mutiny. There -was a ship in the harbour, and in a few hours the rebels would have -been safe within Gallic territory in Senegal. - -But the courage of Joseph Wall, which had borne him across the rocky -slopes of Moro amidst the hail of Spanish bullets, did not quail before -the scowling faces of his own men. Calling two of them from the ranks -of the circle--Benjamin Armstrong, sergeant, and George Robinson, -private--he charged them with disorderly conduct during the morning, -and commanded his officers to try them by drumhead court-martial. -As the penalty had been decided previously, the proceedings were -brief. After a few moments’ discussion the little tribunal announced -the sentence--eight hundred lashes apiece for the two mutineers. A -gun-carriage having been dragged forward, the men in turn were ordered -to strip. The mode of punishment struck terror into every heart. No -cat-o’-nine-tails could be found; nor was it thought safe to trust a -white man with the flogging. When the victim was bound to the cannon, -one of the blacks was called up, a rope put into his hand, and he was -ordered in military formula to “do his duty.” After twenty-five lashes -a new operator took his turn in the usual way. During the whole time -the garrison surgeon looked on, but made no comment. A thousand strokes -of the ‘cat’ was a common punishment in those Draconic days, and it -seemed immaterial whether the flagellation was inflicted with a bunch -of knotted leathern thongs or with a rope’s-end. When at last the long -agony was over, the two poor soldiers were taken to nurse their bruised -and swollen backs in the hospital. - -On the following morning, the 11th of July, the bloody work was -continued. Drastic Wall thought fit to leave an imperishable record -of his mode of government. Beneath the flaming blue sky the soldiers -were marshalled upon the parade ground once more, and four of their -number were selected for punishment in the same informal manner. George -Paterson, the guard-room rebel, was sentenced to eight hundred lashes; -Corporal Thomas Upton, a ringleader of the deputation, and Private -William Evans, were condemned to receive three hundred and fifty and -eight hundred strokes respectively; while Henry Fawcett, the drunken -sentry, was let off with forty-seven. Having thus vindicated his -authority, the terrible Governor proceeded to his ship, which, to the -great joy of the awestruck garrison, weighed anchor the same day. - -Soon after his departure the drama became a tragedy. A poisonous -climate and scanty rations had undermined the physique of the soldiers; -besides which, the sickly season was at hand. The ignorance of the -medical attendants was supplemented by an immoderate use of brandy. -Since the first occupation of the island, men had dropped like flies, -while to the sick and wounded a visit to the hospital was almost -equivalent to a sentence of death. Corporal Thomas Upton died two days -after his punishment; Sergeant Armstrong succumbed on the 15th of the -month; George Paterson only survived until the 19th of July. Meanwhile, -Joseph Wall, on the high seas, knew none of these things. - -Cruel, wanton, reckless as was the deed of the Governor of Goree, -such things were of everyday occurrence in the army of his time. Sir -Charles Napier has left record of the merciless floggings of which -he was an eye-witness a decade later. Forty years after the Peace of -Versailles a court-martial had no hesitation in passing a sentence of -a thousand lashes. Although the rope’s-end employed in the punishment -of Armstrong and his fellows was probably a more formidable instrument -than the regimental ‘cat’ it was no more dangerous than the bunch of -knotted cords used in the navy. A social system that permitted women -and children to be hanged for petty larceny had a Spartan code for its -soldiers on active service. - -Moreover, any lack of firmness on the part of Joseph Wall might have -brought him face to face with a serious mutiny. Riot was the sole means -of expression of the inarticulate mob, both civil and military. A few -months after the disturbance at Goree, General Conway, Governor of -Jersey, was called upon to quell a fierce rebellion among his troops. -About the same time wild insubordination was rife in the regiments -quartered at Wakefield and Rotherham. The danger of a similar outbreak -in a far-off island, garrisoned for the most part by gaol-birds, and -close to the French possessions, was multiplied a hundredfold. Severe -as were the methods of Wall, had such a man been in command at the -Nore the nation would have been spared the terror and ignominy of -‘Admiral’ Parker. Unfortunately for himself, the discipline of the -Irish giant was exerted to punish a personal affront. Had his soldiers -refused to cheer the birthday of some German princeling, he might have -flogged to death a whole company with impunity. Yet, relatively, the -ways and means of inflammable Wall were tame. On the 4th of August -1782, Captain Kenneth Mackenzie, who ruled over a similar regiment -of convicts at Fort Morea on the coast of Africa, blew to atoms a -mutinous fellow-Scot, a private under his command, from the mouth of a -cannon. For this deed, being brought to trial two years later, he was -condemned to death, but subsequently granted a free pardon. At the time -of his escape from the ‘Brown Bear’ at Reading, there were rumours (so -Wall alleges) that the Governor of Goree had put to death soldiers in -Mackenzie fashion. In which case he bore the stigma of another’s sin. - -For twenty years after his flight from England Joseph Wall remained -a fugitive from justice, being an exile for the greater proportion -of the time. Paris was his principal abode, where he was able to -meet many compatriots, who held commissions in the French army. Yet, -although poor and in disgrace, he was never tempted to swerve from his -allegiance to his king. To have joined the colours of France would have -raised him from comparative poverty to affluence, but he kept loyal, -treasuring the hope that some day he would be able to return to his -country a free man. There is evidence of his presence in Paris at the -time of the flight to Varennes in 1792; but previously he paid a visit -to Scotland, and had married the fifth daughter of Baron Fortrose, -Frances Mackenzie, who gave birth to a son in 1791. At one time he -resided in Italy, where he wandered as far as Naples. All these years -his crime lay heavy upon his conscience, and it is said that several -times he meditated surrender. There is a legend that once he went as -far as Calais with this intention, but, his resolution failing at the -last moment, he remained on shore. By a strange chance, the boat in -which he should have reached the packet was swamped in the harbour -before his eyes--a noteworthy fact, like the drowning-escape of -immortal Catherine Hayes, for all who credit the old adage. - -About the year 1797--so the _European Magazine_ tells us, although the -date seems premature by three years--he came over to London incognito, -where he lived with his wife in Upper Thornhaugh Street, Bedford -Square, under the name of Thompson. One day, while some workmen were -painting the house, he happened to express a few words of sympathy for -a sickly apprentice lad, who he had been told was in a decline. “Yes, -poor little fellow,” observed the foreman; “his father was flogged to -death by that inhuman scoundrel, Governor Wall.” Sometimes in real life -poetic justice will assert its power. - -For a long while the outlaw was undecided whether to run the risk of -surrender. Under the shield of oblivion he might have continued to live -in the metropolis without danger, for his crime was almost forgotten. -Yet there were urgent reasons why he should vindicate his character, as -his wife was entitled to property which she could not receive unless -her husband appeared in person in a court of law. Before such a step -could be taken it was necessary for him to stand his trial. In his -dilemma he consulted Mr Alley, the famous counsel, who, in the face -of his flight from justice, could give him only cold comfort. However, -Joseph Wall was not the man to shirk risk in pursuit of a definite -object. On the 5th of October 1801 he sent a letter to Lord Pelham, -Secretary of State, announcing his presence in England; while on the -2nd of November he appeared before the Privy Council, and was committed -to Newgate. - -The Special Commission appointed to judge the case of Governor Wall -met on the 20th of January 1802. At nine o’clock in the morning the -Court assembled in all the majesty of a State trial. Its president was -Sir Archibald Macdonald, Chief Baron of the Exchequer, a political -Scot who, like many of his betters, owed his position to a wife. -Sir Giles Rooke of Common Pleas, and Sir Soulden Lawrence of King’s -Bench, two merciful and kind-hearted judges, sat on either side to -give assistance. Never was there a more formidable array of counsel -for the Crown. Grim and spiteful Attorney-General Edward Law; the -urbane and much-underrated Spencer Perceval, Solicitor-General; Thomas -Plumer, George Wood, and Charles Abbott, all three destined to hold -distinguished positions on the Bench; and lastly, William Fielding, -who, like his more famous father, became a London magistrate. Nor were -the three barristers for the defence less illustrious: Newman Knowlys -was appointed Recorder of London; John Gurney, one of the greatest of -criminal advocates, rose to be a judge; and Alley, defender number -three, was as astute a lawyer as any of the rest. - -No shudder of sympathy sweeps through the crowded court as the figure -of the crimson giant passes into the dock. Outside swell the low -growls of a gutter-wallowing mob; within, every heart cries aloud for -vengeance upon the grim tyrant. Joseph Wall faces his accusers, as he -faced all enemies, with fearless eyes and undaunted soul. From the -firm, martial tread and high, unbent brow, none would judge that this -is an old man, who has lived for sixty-five years. At the close of the -indictment the voice of the prisoner rings through the court, to the -surprise of all. - -“My lord,” he exclaims, “I cannot hear in this place. I hope your -lordship will permit me to sit near my counsel.” - -“It is perfectly impossible,” stammers the scandalised scion of the -Lords of the Isles. “There is a regular place appointed by law. I can -make no invidious distinction.” - -Jaundice-souled Law opens the attack in most persuasive cut-throat -manner, compelled to be fair in spite of his opportunity by reason -of instinctive tolerance for all savouring of bloodthirsty tyranny. -Pinning the jury down to the first indictment, he bids them think only -of the fustigation of Armstrong. “Can the prisoner prove a mutiny?” is -Law’s reiterated demand. “You cannot flay soldiers alive, unless they -deserve it!” - -Law-logic is a marvellous thing. “Wall left island day after flogging,” -it persists; “_ergo_, no mutiny.” The jury suck in this eloquence -open-mouthed--visions of neatly-plaited halters hover before their -retinas. “Governors never turn their backs directly mutiny is quelled,” -argues Law, and the myriad black-and-white sprites, who, invisible -and in silence, weave their gossamer threads of passion into the webs -of poor human nature, hear and tremble. Yet their handicraft still -sparkles with the hues of Iris, for not even British law-giver can -paint the spirits of the soul in the dull self-colour of his own dreary -brain. “Generals never desert their beaten army,” we can hear Law -thunder at Judges’ dinner ten years later; “Napoleon is still with his -troops on the Beresina!” Wonderful logic, wonderful Law! Pity, for the -sake of cocksuredom, that hearts do not beat as he bade them. - -“Prisoner did not report this rope’s-end business to Secretary -Townshend,” cries the logician. “Why not? Because mutiny plea was an -after-thought to cloak his crime.” One wonders of what fashion were -the accounts of his stewardship, if any, that this stalwart pillar -of Church and State made in daily confession to his God. Did he omit -naught? Or did he report all cruel lashes for which he had given -sentence, and did he speak of his savage opposition to a change of the -bloody code? Kind forgetfulness given by Providence to those who need -it most! “Prisoner did not report flogging, because he did not know the -man was dead.” Jury mouths open wider upon this marvellous Law, for -reason whispers in their ears, “Then prisoner did not intend that the -man should die.” But reason is dinned out of their tradesmen pates. -“After-thought--after-thought!” clangs ding-dong Law, and echo comes to -the true and bewildered twelve: “Away with him to the gallows!” - -First witness appears--Evan Lewis--Cambrian bred; a race of man for -the most part having no mean, superlative, or unspeakable. Lewis was, -or says he was, orderly sergeant on the day of the Goree flagellation; -now he is Bow Street runner, brave in scarlet waistcoat. “No mutiny!” -declares this Lewis. “Men were as good as gold. They couldn’t have been -bad if they’d tried.” Perceval gently leads the witness along, and much -is communicated. “Flogged to death without trial”--such is the meaning -of Taffy’s testimony. In due course, other soldiers of the precious -garrison follow--one, two, three, four, five--and the parrot cry, “No -mutiny,” smites the ears of the tradesmen in the jury-box. The Scotch -lip of the Lord-of-Isles grows more attenuated, and he sees the man in -the dock crowned with halo of crimson. His busy pencil scribbles notes -for the edification--at the proper time--of the luckless twelve men, -good and true. “Witnesses each say different things,” writes Caledonian -pencil. “But what else can you expect? The thing happened twenty years -ago!” And this Caledonian tongue repeats--at the great and proper time. - -A gentleman and officer--for things are not what they seem--is produced -by Law in due course, one Thomas Poplett, a lieutenant under untamable -Wall. This estimable Poplett confesses the Governor had him safely -under lock and key--for disobedience--on the day of flagellation, which -shows that the red Irishman was not a bad judge of some men’s deserts. -From his prison Poplett witnessed the thrashing of Armstrong, and he -produces rope with which it was done, or rather someone told him, who -had it from one of its nigger wielders, that this was the very same. -The Caledonian pencil scribbles industriously. Hearsay evidence? not -a bit of it. Nor proof of malice neither, for the nice Poplett may be -a collector of curios. But the nice Poplett had done some odd things -in his time; had been sacked from Lord George Germaine’s office for -telling tales out of school--a dabbling-in-Funds speculation--such -things as disgrace men still. The name of Poplett, too, had been posted -in the Stock Exchange, with a footnote, ‘Lame-duck’ or some equivalent -compliment. A most estimable witness, indeed, this nice Poplett. -Splendid material for Caledonian pencil. - -There was yet another of similar breed--Peter Ferrick, surgeon of -Goree. The rope’s-end business was well in hand when he arrived. -Peter takes much credit for this unpunctuality, and the Lord of Isles -jots it down a black mark against the prisoner--the why is not clear. -“The Armstrong back-slashing did not seem more severe than usual to -Doctor Ferrick, but the man is dead.” Doctor Ferrick was amazed at the -time, but he knows now that the rope’s-end killed him--a marvellous -pair of eyes in the skull of this Ferrick! “Brandy-drinking in the -tropics after such fustigation would not be wholesome, and would be -done contrary to leech-Ferrick’s orders.” Corollary, note by Scotch -pencil--if there was brandy-drinking, the treatment was unskilful, and -prisoner must answer for the leech-folly. Query--“Why didn’t Ferrick -stop the flogging?” Great wrangling among counsel on account of this -same query. “Improper question--the twelve honest tradesmen must not -be prejudiced against the man in the dock.” Still, innuendo remains: -_i.e._ leech-Ferrick did not interfere, because he was afraid of Wall! -The Scotch lip lengthens, and its owner pats the timid leech on the -back approvingly. What a grim, bloodthirsty tyrant, this Governor Wall! -think the honest twelve. Leech-Ferrick steps down, proud and satisfied -that Caledonian pencil has wrote him down an ass. To hang Wall is all -he cares. Better a live donkey than a dead giant. Going home, he comes -to the bad end of many fools--he writes a letter, which is printed by -_The Times_. - -Then the tyrant is called upon for his defence. It is simple and -straightforward, for he knows nothing of Law-logic. “The soldiers were -turbulent; Armstrong was disobedient; every cat-o’-nine-tails was -destroyed, so he did the thrashing with a rope; he had no intention -of killing the man, who might not have died but for brandy-soaking in -hospital; he ran away from Reading twenty years ago, because the mob -was howling for his blood, believing that he, like Kenneth Mackenzie, -had blown men from cannons.” _N.B._--The red soldier must have -remembered how successfully the ’57 mob had howled for the death of -kid-gloved Byng. - -Witnesses for the crimson tyrant follow--a poor lot. Number one, -mincing Mrs Lacy, wife of late second in command at Goree. This -lady gets angry with magnificent Law, to the great scandalisation -of the Lord of Isles, and tries to put everyone right, for they -are all wrong. Contradictions annoy the Court. When there has been -plain sailing--though close to the wind, no matter--it is annoying -to think out new and perplexing tracks. “Welshman Lewis was not -orderly-sergeant,” persists Mrs Lacy. “The deputation to the Governor -was eighty strong. Her husband’s brain was turned by the sun in 1784, -so he would have been no use as witness to the arrested Governor.” -All this borders on the superfluous, shocking the Chief Baron, upon -whom the honest twelve glue their round and honest eyes. “The soldiers -threatened the Governor--upon my oath, they did,” vociferates Mrs Lacy, -while the Lord-of-Isles, no doubt, thinks sadly of another such shrill -voice that assails his ears at home. Then magnificent Law--a naughty -Attorney-General now--plies witness with searching questions about -solitary visits to imprisoned giant, here in Old Bailey; and though -the military widow makes wrathful repudiation, this thin-ice skating -exhibition sinks deep into the pious souls of the virtuous twelve. A -wicked profligate also, think they, is this cruel red Irishman! - -Mary Faulkner, gunner’s wife, comes next, and says similar things, and -more; she even heard the men discuss the killing of Governor Wall. Her -husband, gunner Faulkner, corroborates. Agrees with the two last that -Armstrong was mutinous and threatening. Admits, however, he had little -trial. Great excitement among Crown counsel, and learned Plumer presses -the point. “Very little trial” is the conclusion sought, and Caledonian -pencil records it. No matter that consistent Law has laid it down -that if there was a mutiny he will not press for proof of elaborate -court-martial. A prisoners witness has scored a point for the other -side, and they record it--“Scarcely any trial at all.” - -What matters the rest, while the prim Scotsman, in full-bottomed wig, -brandishes his pencil! Peter Williams, soldier, endorses all said by -women Lacy and Faulkner, but clever Plumer shows him up, on the word -of an officer, as “a lying, shuffling fellow.” Private Charles Timbs -swears that ‘cats’ were all destroyed by the men, but no one heeds -him. Deputy-Advocate Oldham instructs the tribunal that drum-head -court-martials are never reported to Government Department. Thus, why -should Wall report his small explosion to Secretary Townshend, why----? -But what does this signify in face of what Law had laid down--“Never -mind trial! Can prisoner prove the mutiny?” No need to press Deputy -Oldham, for there is no chance of scoring another point at the expense -of prisoner’s witness. - -Then arrives the great and proper time. The pencil has done its -work, and Caledonian tongue now speaks, and Caledonian lip, having -arrived at full tension, trembles. Important comments are delivered--a -general ripping-up of the Wall witnesses. Chief Baron reads the -report to Secretary Townshend, and adds footnote: “No mention of -mutiny”--suspicious. Again: “Two officers returned from Goree at same -time as the Governor. This,” he echoes Law-logic, “does not indicate -existence of mutiny.” Further: “Prisoner made his escape when all -witnesses who could prove his innocence were alive”--still more -suspicious. Twelve good and honest brows grow still darker and more -vengeful. The rope-ending is contrasted with the birching of children; -marvellous parallel--as though the maternal heart bore resemblance -to the provisions of Mutiny Acts! Back-slapping of leech-Ferrick -is long and loud. “Be careful not to hurt a toss-pot,” declares -the Lord-of-Isles, “for if he drinks himself to death, you are his -murderer!” Wonderful Caledonian pencil that is able to out-logic -wonderful Law. - -It is ten o’clock at night. For thirteen hours the unfortunate twelve -have been box-fast. Within twelve honest waistcoats lies a dull and -aching vacuum. The Laws, Plumers, and Lords-of-Isles have similar -sensations, in spite of the adjournment-gorge in an upper chamber. -Yet, when they retire, the good tradesmen debate this military cause -sedulously for the space of sixty minutes. They have sons and brothers -in the army, and doubtless much suppressed eloquence to explode. At -last, an hour before midnight, they return into Court, faces stern and -dark. The deaf giant receives the verdict with a start of surprise, but -without tremor of limb. To him the proceedings have been a long, dreary -mumble, and he longs for repose. In good set terms, for the benefit of -reporters and the junior bar, the Recorder passes sentence, and, as the -curtain falls, the gaol-bird mob outside growls forth its plaudits. - -Till Friday morning, only thirty-two hours, has been allowed the -prisoner to prepare for death. Before trial, Keeper Kirby had given him -a spacious and comfortable room, but a cell in the Press Yard wing must -now be his portion. With a cry of impotent rage the weary giant flings -himself upon his bed, and declares he will not rise till the fatal -hour. During the black winter night the felons in other cells hear -his voice, for the poor crushed giant is singing hymns to his Maker. -Next day there is much wear and tear of good cloth in the seats of the -mighty. Government officials sit long over case, and a respite till the -Monday following is the result of their labours. The love of the noble -and devoted wife, given long ago to him whom she knew as one of the -world’s pariahs, shines brighter and more beautiful amidst the dreadful -darkness, and she toils without ceasing for a reprieve. All the -influence of Clan Mackenzie--such as it be--is summoned to the aid of -the condemned soldier, for the second daughter of the house had married -Henry Howard, and their kinsman, his scapegrace of Norfolk, is induced -to take up the cudgels on behalf of the chained giant. Unfortunately, -the senior peer is not a favourite at headquarters. Still, Secretary -Pelham gives heed so far as to send down another respite to Newgate on -Sunday eve. Wall’s hanging-day is now settled for Thursday, the 28th -of January, and the Monday morning mob of gallows-birds howls fiercely -when discovery is made that it has been baulked of its prey for a few -dozen of hours; which same howls, penetrating in ministerial mind’s-ear -to the purlieus of Whitehall, set ministerial hearts palpitating with -apprehension. For the Pilot who weathered the Storm no longer has a -home in Downing Street, and the hearts of ministerial successors lack -tissue. - -Not all the wealth of woman’s tears can move authority to greater -mercy on behalf of the red giant. The smug and closet-petted doctor, -who cares naught for military matters, is bent on his French peace in -spite of all that patron Pitt may say, and it seems a small matter to -hang a mob-detested officer. “Soldiers a drug in the market--we are -going to be friends with the good Buonaparte,” think Farmer George -and his Council when they confabulate on Wednesday afternoon. The -Caledonian pencil-notes are consulted, and cobwebs gather fast around -the bewildered royal brain. Kingly thoughts dwell lovingly upon the -royal prerogative of the gallows--a truly English pastime, worthy of -a British prince whose blood has run itself clear of all Hanoverian -coagulations. Chancellor Eldon, being interrogated, finds his load of -learned lumber ill-digested for the moment, and doubts, and doubts, and -doubts. Then some brave and discreet statesman--oblivion shrouds his -illustrious name--mentions the mutineers of the ‘Fighting Téméraire’ -a dozen or so of whom a few days before had ornamented the yard-arms -at Spithead, and King and Council ponder deeply. Newgate howls have -been ominous, Newgate cries have been eloquent, and the time-honoured -platitude, “One law for rich, another law for poor,” has often ended in -window--sometimes royal window--smashing. Mercy seems a great risk, -far greater because of the ‘Téméraire’ yard-arm business than the -unpopular pardon of Kenneth Mackenzie. On the other side there is the -alluring picture of the great triumph of British equity--the balance -of justice--‘Téméraire’ rebels hanging on one side of the scale, and -mob-hated Joseph Wall on the other. “Foreign nations please observe and -copy!” A notable triumph for an English-born German prince. Like the -peace that was to be, it seemed an experiment worth the while. Farmer -George and Doctor Henry prove to have most forcible willpower in the -Council, and when his Gracious Majesty posts off to Windsor at five -o’clock, to drink tea with his Princesses, the Governor of Goree has -been left for execution. - -In the condemned cell that same evening the devoted wife and husband -hope still for the reprieve that never comes. Keeper Kirby has promised -the grief-stricken woman that she shall remain in the gaol till the -last possible moment, and while the clock slowly beats its march to the -hour of eleven the heart-rending tragedy unfolds its agonies. - -“God bless you, my dear,” cries the giant in their last embrace. “Take -care of the children. Let them think as well of me as you can.” - -Then, while the Governor of the prison escorts the poor lady along the -cold, dark corridors, she sobs forth her one piteous question for the -hundredth time: - -“Is there no hope?” - -“Madam, I trust your wishes may be fulfilled,” replies Kirby. “But it -is now a late hour, and I have received no orders.” - -Sister Howard, who also has borne this terrible vigil, supports the -fainting woman from the portals of the charnel-house, and their -carriage rumbles away over the stones of Old Bailey. Even these loving -friends have failed him, and the red giant must bear his last dismal -journey alone. Two turnkeys watch over him, lest he may do himself -injury, for he wears no fetters. - -“It is a long night,” he exclaims about two o’clock, as he tosses -wearily upon his couch. - -Still, his voice is strong and resonant with its military ring, though -his mighty form has sunk beneath a weight of torture into a mere -gaunt framework of bones. Bread-and-water has been his diet since the -sentence, and Sheriff Cox, although assiduous in his visits to the -unhappy man, will not relax his stern rules. In a little while, as if -he looked for sleep, he asks whether the scaffold will make a noise -when it is dragged out into the street. With compassionate lie, they -answer that it will not, but his thoughts dwell morbidly upon his -destiny. - -“I most earnestly request,” he tells his attendants, “that I may not be -pulled by the heels when I am suffering.” - -They attempt to appease him by the promise that it shall be done as -he wishes, but he has seen hangings in plenty, and he knows what may -happen. - -“I hope that the fatal cord may be placed properly,” he persists, “and -that I may be allowed to depart as fairly and easily as my sentence -will allow.” - -At last he falls asleep, and when the huge wooden machine lumbers -between the prison doors with a sound that reverberates through the -whole building, he is unconscious of what has happened. Also, it is not -recorded that he heard the dread chaunt of the bellman outside in the -Old Bailey: - - “You that in the condemned hole do lie, - Prepare you, for to-morrow you shall die; - Watch all, and pray, the hour is drawing near, - That you before the Almighty must appear.” - -About half-past five he awakes with a start as a mail-coach rumbles -along Newgate Street. - -“Is that the scaffold?” he demands, and they tell him no. - -Once more he makes anxious inquiries about the methods of the hangman, -and they satisfy him as well as they can. Shortly before seven he is -led to the day-room of the Press Yard, where he is joined by Ordinary -Forde, who, robed in full canonicals, with a great nosegay beneath -his chin, seems prepared for a wedding day. A fire is smouldering on -the hearth, and a nauseating smell of green twigs fills the chill -stone chamber. Gaunt and terrible is the aspect of the red, untamable -giant, who is meek and penitent, but with soul still unbowed. A yellow -parchment-like texture is drawn tightly over his sunken features, and -through their hollow sockets the piercing eyes shine as though in -ghastly reflection to the glance of death--not the triumphant glitter -thrown back by Death Magnificent, but the stony, frightful stare -imparted by the Medusa of Shame. A suit of threads and patches hangs -loosely upon his emaciated limbs--an old brown coat, swansdown vest, -and blue pantaloons--a sorry garb for one who has worn a colonel’s -uniform in his Majesty’s army. For a moment his piercing gaze falls -upon Ordinary Forde. - -“Is the morning fine?” is the strange, eager question. “Time hangs -heavily,” the hollow far-away voice continues. “I am anxious for the -close of this scene.” - -As if in response to the wish, Jack Ketch’s lackey, a dwarf with face -of a demon, draws near with his cords and binds the giant’s wrists. - -“You have tied me very tight,” is the weary complaint. - -“Loosen the knot,” commands absolute Forde, and the sulky wretch obeys -with low mutterings. - -“Thank you, sir,” murmurs the giant. “It is of little moment.” The -green twigs upon the hearth crackle in a shower of sparks up the wide -chimney, and a shovelful of coals is thrown upon the burning mass. -Death’s piercing glitter flashes from the eyes of the dying man while -his brain paints pictures in the flames. Then his lips move slowly: - -“Ay, in an hour that will be a blazing fire.” - -Ay, and you are thinking that in an hour, you poor, red, untamable -giant will have finished your long torture, and be lying cold and -still--while that fire blazes merrily. In an hour one loving, -great-hearted woman will have entered upon the agony-penance that she -must endure to the grave. In an hour your little ones will be children -of a father upon whom his country has seared the brand of infamy--and -these green twigs will have become a blazing fire! Sad--yea, saddest of -words that could fall from human lips! - -Then the demon of suspense torments the poor giant once again, and he -turns to the Ordinary appealingly: - -“Do tell me, sir--I am informed that I shall go down with great force; -is that so?” - -Ordinary’s thoughts cease for a moment to dwell lovingly upon his -breakfast-gorge with the Sheriff--the epilogue to every hanging--and -professional pride swells his portly soul. With reverent unction he -explains the machinery of the gallows, speaking of ‘nooses and knots’ -with all the mastery of expert, for Jim Botting and his second fiddle -‘Old Cheese’ are no better handicraftsmen than Ordinary hangman Forde. -Presently he in his turn grows curious. - -“Colonel Wall,” he inquires, “what kind of men were those under you at -Goree?” - -The haunting glance of death-shame fades from the piercing eyes, and -through the portholes of his soul there flashes the living spirit of -defiance. - -“Sir,” he cries, “they sent me the very riff-raff!” - -Suddenly the reverend Ordinary bethinks himself of his holy office, -and plunges headlong into prayer; a contrast that must compel the -tear of recording angel--smoke-reeking, unctuous, ale-fed Forde and -contrite, half-starved, but invincible giant. Sheriff Cox and his -myrmidons enter as the clock is striking eight. A look of eagerness -passes over the cadaverous lineaments, a gaunt figure steps forward, -and a firm, hollow voice murmurs: - -“I attend you, sir.” - -Although his head is bowed, his tread is that of the soldier on -parade as they pass out into the keen winter air. A crowd of felons, -destined soon for the gallows, is huddled in groups, here and there, -within their courtyard den, and as the procession passes through the -quadrangle they hurl forth curses of hell against the man who is -marching to his death. The giant head falls lower, and the martial -tread beats faster. “The clock has struck,” he cries, as he quickens -his step. There is a halt in another chamber beyond the Press Yard. An -ingenious law-torment is demanded--the Sheriff’s receipt for a living -corpse. A legal wrangle follows; the red giant’s body is not described -in good set terms, and there is much quill-scratching, while the giant -gazes calmly. Then the march is resumed down the loathsome passages, -and the soul of Greatheart warms as eternity draws nearer. - -In another moment, the most wondrous prospect of his life opens before -his eyes. High upon the stage, with back turned to the towering wall, -as befits a soldier, his vision ranges over a tossing sea of savage -faces, a human torrent that fills the wide estuary, surging full and -fierce to the limits of its boundaries. Then a mighty tumult rises -from the depths of the living whirlpool, the exultant roar of a -myriad demons thirsting for blood. At last the giant limbs tremble, -as the shouts swell fiercer and louder still--three distinct terrific -huzzas--unmistakable to trained ears; they come from the angry throats -of a thousand British soldiers, the fierce war-cry learnt from the -cruel Cossack long ago. The red tyrant is delivered to the mob at last. -Some say it is the shout of punters delighted to have won their bets, -and loudly press the strange apology; but reason, giving preference to -comparative methods, calls to mind the savage exultation that hailed -the atonement of skipper Lowry and Mother Brownrigg, of Burke and -Palmer, and muses thoughtfully upon this balance of justice. - -The gnarled, bony fingers of the red giant grasp the hand of Sheriff -Cox, while the foul-odoured beast fumbles with the halter around his -neck, withdrawing the noose and slipping it once more over his head. -The victim turns to the plump Ordinary with a last request: - -“I do not wish to be pulled by the heels.” - -The priest deftly draws the cap over the gleaming, shrivelled face, -and mumbles from his book. No clanging bell disturbs the peace of the -sufferer, for he is a murderer, and this blessed torture is not for -those of his class. The bareheaded crowd gazes with rapture upon the -wooden scaffold, shorn of its appalling garb of black--another mercy -vouchsafed to him who dies guilty of a brother’s blood. Suddenly there -is a second mighty shout of triumph. The rope hangs plump between the -two posts, and the tall, gaunt form is swaying in empty air. In another -moment there are cries of horror, but of horror mingled with applause. -The noose has formed an even collar around the giant’s neck, while the -knot has slipped to the back of his head, which is still upright and -unbent. Horrible convulsions seize the huge, struggling frame. It is a -terrific scene--most glorious spectacle of suffering that a delighted -crowd has ever gazed upon--Jack Ketch has bungled! Minutes pass, and -still the hanging man battles fiercely for breath. Minutes pass, and -not a hand is stretched forth to give him relief. Sheriff’s eyes meet -eyes of Ordinary in mutual horror. Sheriff’s watch is dragged from its -fob, and when the little steel hands have stretched to a right angle, -at last a hasty signal is made to the expectant hangman. Two butchers -beneath the scaffold seize upon the sufferer’s legs, and soon his agony -of more than a fourth of an hour is brought to a close. A fierce shock, -indeed, to reason and the balance of justice argument--a fiercer shock -still to those that cling lovingly to the tenets of Hebrew mythology. - -With a sigh of relief Sheriff and Ordinary hurry away to coffee and -grilled kidneys in Mr Kirby’s breakfast-room, leaving the crowd to -watch the victim hanging--which crowd does with gusto, scrambling -fiercely a little later for a bit of the rope, which Rosy Emma, -worthy helpmate of Jack Ketch, retails at twelvepence an inch, and, -furthermore, gloating with delight upon the cart that presently takes -the wasted form of the dead giant to the saws and cleavers of Surgeons’ -Hall dissecting-room, Saffron Hill. Tight hands at a bargain, these -bloodletting, clyster-loving old leeches! They demand fifty, some say a -hundred, guineas from the giant’s friends, and they pocket the ransom -before they surrender their corpse. Devoted old leeches: _sic vos non -vobis_--we are the learned legatees of your dabblings in anatomy. A -few days later--it is a Thursday morning, numbered the 4th of February -in the calendar--a few merciful friends bear the giant’s coffin to a -resting-place in St Pancras Churchyard. Epitaph does not appear, for -cant refuses to superscribe the true one--“England did not expect him -to do his duty!” - -As we look back upon the glowing perspective of our history, there are -few scenes that stand out in fiercer grandeur than the flogging of -Goree. Foul-smelling, Lilliputian picture, it shines, nevertheless, -with the same unconquerable spirit of genius that clapped a telescope -to the blind eye at Copenhagen. One untamable hero, armed merely with -a crimson rope, faces a hundred cut-throats, and, within view of the -ramparts of the enemy, cows them into licking his shoes, declaring -that an insult to himself is an insult to his King. Truly a David and -Goliath picture. - -“Wrong,” cry Farmer George and Doctor Henry, glancing timidly, as with -mystical prescience, down the vista of ages to Board School days, and -quaking at swish of cat and clank of triangles, guilty of as deep -anachronism as he who hurled a shell at the tomb of the Mahdi, to -the great disturbance of bread-and-milk nerves. For birch twigs and -cat--essential forerunners of Standards Six--had much Peninsular and -Waterloo work in front of them, and it was just as easy to chain red -giants as to hang them. - -“Wrong,” cry Farmer Merciful and Doctor Justice, busy with knife and -steel, getting ready a keen edge for the grey, gallant head of poor -crazy Despard, and eager to paste the town with balance of justice -placards--“‘Téméraire’ insubordinates, and red giant of Goree--both -hanged. Let foreign nations please copy.” And, doubtless, a burst of -inordinate Gallic laughter hailed this _jeu d’esprit_, for Gallic -neighbours had other things for the encouragement of red giants--a -field-marshal’s baton and the like. - -There is no place for the musings of modern milksop. The deeds of the -parents of his grandfather are for him merely a tale that is told, and -as he closes the family record his bread-and-milk soul must only give -thanks that his lot is cast in more pleasant places. Modern eye can -but discern the red giants of a bygone world through a glass darkly. -Cruel, crimson, unscrupulous--they were all that: children of murkiness -even as we are children of light, and thus let comparison end. One -hundred years--as great a barrier as a million miles of ether--has -divided our ages, _et nos mutamur_. A thousand pencils--Saxon and -Caledonian--have banished with Dunciad scorn the birchen wand that used -to betwig merrily the tender fifteen-year-old flesh of ribald lad and -saucy maiden. Triangle and cat, rope’s-end and grating, ceased years -ago to terrify the hearts of rolling Jack and swaggering Tommy. Good -Mr Fairchild no longer takes little Harry and little Emily to view the -carrion of the gibbet, _exempli gratiâ_, for the modern Mr Fairchild -does not remember that such instruments ever had their proper places -in the land. Red giants, too--only to be let loose when occasion -required--had their proper places in the good old times of birch-rod -and gibbet, of Farmer George and Doctor Henry, who found much use for -them in the taming of the Corsican ogre. Modern milksop, however, -will scarcely concede that such times were good, or, at least, most -wrong when inconsistent! Be that as it may, the cat and rope’s-end of -the crimson giant were a portion of Britain’s bulwarks, in spite of -inconsistent headshakings of Farmer George and Doctor Henry, of Brother -Bragge and Brother Hiley--all of which, fortunately, is as repulsive to -the soul of modern milksop as the dice and women of Charles Fox, or the -two-bottle thirst of the Pilot who weathered the Storm. Lucky, perhaps, -for bread-and-milk gentleman that he had fathers before him. - -No other case bears the same resemblance to that of Joseph Wall as the -incident of Kenneth Mackenzie and his cannon-ball execution. Some, -indeed, have a certain affinity, and exhibit the national conscience -overwhelmed by periodical fits of morality--a hysterical turning-over -of new leaves. A few days before the red giant of Goree passed through -the debtor’s door, Sir Edward Hamilton of the ‘Trent’ frigate was -dismissed from the navy for an act of cruel tyranny, only to be -reinstated in a few months. Thomas Picton, England’s “bravest of the -brave,” was shaken by the same wave of humanity. Yet, after all, the -guilt of the Admiral or the innocence of the hero of Waterloo were -of little moment to a nation that continued to mutilate its enemies -in the fashion of a dervish of the desert, under the sacred name of -high treason. For, years later, the bloody heads of Brandreth and -Thistlewood stained an English scaffold. Luckily for their oppressors, -the victims of Hamilton and Picton--officers who did not stand in -the desperate position of the Governor of Goree--survived their -punishments, not having a leech-Ferrick to reckon with, else Farmer -George and Doctor Henry, in the face of those dangling ‘Téméraire’ -seamen, would have been in an awkward dilemma. - -The case of George Robert Fitzgerald, often held forth as a parallel -by contemporary pressmen, has little similarity to that of Wall. Both -belonged to the 69th Foot, they were antagonists in a Galway duel in -’69, and both ended their days on the scaffold; but here comparison -ends. The retribution that overtook ‘Fighting Fitzgerald’ at Castlebar -was the fitting penalty of a vendetta murder, brutal and premeditated, -and wrought without a semblance of authority. - -Fifty years before the death of Joseph Wall, the London mob was able -to indulge its fury in like fashion against another black-beast of its -own choosing, one James Lowry, skipper of the merchant ship ‘Molly’ -compared to whom the Governor of Goree appears to have been a mild -and merciful commander. At different times, three sailors expired -beneath the terrible floggings of Captain Lowry, who was wont to -salute his dying victim with the cry, “He is only shamming Abraham.” -And as the cruel seaman was carried in the cart to Execution Dock, the -furious mob howled forth this ghastly catchword, just as they saluted -Wall with the echo of the phrase which they supposed he had uttered -while Benjamim Armstrong was being flogged to death, “Cut him to the -heart--cut him to the liver.” - -Nor was the cruel tyrant only to be found in the merchantman, or -was Edward Hamilton a solitary exception. Captain Oakham of the -British navy is more than a creature of fiction, as is shown by the -trials of Edward Harvey in August 1742, and of William Henry Turton -in August 1780, which cast a lurid light upon the conditions of -life in our ships of war. Midshipman Turton was a butcherly young -gentleman, who turned his sword against a disobedient sailor in a sort -of Captain-Sutherland-and-negro-cabin-boy fashion, but, owing to a -Maidstone grand-jury petition and the absence of ‘Téméraire’ mutineers, -there was no hempen collar for him. - -The story of Joseph Wall has no exact parallel in our history, for -the Mackenzie incident differs in two essential particulars--the dour -Kenneth meant murder from the first, and did not pay the penalty of -his crime. Lowry, Turton, and Sutherland were guilty, like ‘Fighting -Fitzgerald,’ of common homicide, and the _malice prepense_, as -law-givers understand the phrase, was clear and unmistakable. Even the -lax morality of Doctor Henry’s days was compelled to take cognisance -of giant Wall’s offence, just as it punished very properly--or tried -to do--the sins of Picton and Hamilton; and a verdict of manslaughter, -though delivered by a tradesman jury, would not have been an illogical -conclusion. However, it remains a judicial murder--one of the most -disgraceful that stains the pages of our history during the reign of -George III. - - - - -BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE WALL CASE - - -I. CONTEMPORARY TRACTS - -1. _An Authentic Narrative of Joseph Wall Esqr._ By a Military -Gentleman. J. Roach, Britannia Printing Office. Russell Court, Drury -Lane (1802). Brit. Mus. - - Except in the tract published by A. Young--a transparent - plagiarism--there is no corroboration of the statement that - Wall flogged to death a man named Paterson on the voyage out to - Goree. As no reference is made in any contemporary newspapers, - it seems probable that the ‘Military Gentleman’ has confused - his materials. George Paterson, a soldier, received eight - hundred lashes the day after the punishment of Armstrong, and - died soon afterwards, which may have caused the mistake. If - Wall had done another such deed in 1780, it is probable that it - would have obtained greater publicity. - -2. _The Life, Trial and Execution of Joseph Wall Esqre._ By a -Gentleman. A. Young, Vera Street, Clare Market (1802). Brit. Mus. - -3. _The Trial at Large of Joseph Wall Esqre._ Also an Account of his -escape in 1784. John Fairburn, 146 Minories. - -4. _The Trial of Lieut. Col. Joseph Wall._ Taken in shorthand by Messrs -Blanchard and Ramsey. London (1802). Brit. Mus. - -5. _Life, Trial and Execution of Joseph Wall Esqre._ (with a full -length portrait). E. Lawrence, C. Chapple, and H. D. Symonds. - - This tract is advertised in the _Morning Chronicle_, February 9, 1802. - -6. _The Trial of Governor Wall._ With particulars of his escape at -Reading in 1784 and his subsequent surrender in 1802. Fred Farrah, -282 Strand, (The Only Edition Extant). Brit. Mus. Copied from earlier -accounts. - - -II. CONTEMPORARY NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES - - - 1. _The Public Advertiser_, March 1784. - - 2. _The Gazetteer and New Advertiser_, August 14, 1783, and March - 1784. - - 3. _The General Evening Post_, March 1784. - - 4. _The Bath Chronicle_, do. - - 5. _The Bristol Journal_, do. - - 6. _The London Gazette_, March 9, 1784. - - 7. _The Times_, March 1784, January 1802. - - 8. _Morning Post_, July 21 and August 12 and 13, 1783, March 1784, - January 1802. - - 9. _Morning Chronicle_, March 1784, January 1802. - - 10. _Morning Herald_, do. do. - - 11. _St James’ Chronicle_, do. do. - - 12. _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, do. - - 13. _The True Briton and Porcupine_, do. - - 14. _The Star_, do. - - In the _Morning Post_ of August 13, 1783, there appears the - report of the court-martial held at the Horse Guards on July - 7 and following days, which practically acquitted Wall of the - charges brought against him by Captain Roberts. The _Gazette_ - of March 9, 1784, contains the King’s Proclamation, dated March - 8, describing the personal appearance of the escaped prisoner, - and offering a reward of £200 for his apprehension. To those - who consult contemporary journals for a first time there will - come a surprise, for they will learn that Governor Wall on July - 10 and 11, 1782, flogged to death not _one_ man but _three_. - No account later than the Espriella Papers, and not one of - the many _Newgate Calendars_, gives this information. Surgeon - Ferrick’s letter appeared in _The Times_, February 5, 1802. - -15. _The Gentleman’s Magazine_ (1784), part i. p. 227; (1802), part i. -p. 81. - - The January number, 1802, endorses the statement that Augustine - Wall, the brother of the Governor of Goree, was “the first - person, who presumed to publish Parliamentary Reports with - the real names of the speakers prefixed.” This evidence - is important, as Sylvanus Urban might have grudged such - an admission. His own claims, however, are set forth very - modestly. “Dr Johnston (in our magazine) dressed them (_i.e._ - the speakers in Parliament) in Roman characters. Others gave - them as orators in the senate of Lilliput. Mr Wall laid the - foundation of a practice which, we trust for the sake of - Parliament, and the nation, will never be abandoned.” - -16. _The European Magazine_ (1802), pp. 74, 154-157. - -17. _The Annual Register._ Appendix to Chronicle, pp. 560-568. - - -NOTES - -NOTE I.--_Dict. Nat. Biog._ - - Although reference is made to the dubious case of the flogging - of the man Paterson during Wall’s outward voyage to Goree, - there is no mention of the fact that four other soldiers were - flogged by the Governor’s order on the same day and the day - following the punishment of Benj. Armstrong, and that two of - these also died of their wounds. There seems to be no authority - for the statement that Wall “appears to have been in liquor” - when he passed sentence on the men, and as such a presumption, - which was never put forward by the prosecution, sweeps away - all defence, and proves that the act was murder, it should not - be accepted without the most trustworthy evidence. Mrs Wall’s - father, Kenneth Mackenzie, Lord Fortrose, never became Lord - Seaforth; her brother did. Since Wall did not remain at Goree - for more than two years, and left the island on July 11, 1782, - it is evident that he did not become Governor in 1779. His - letter to Lord Pelham, offering to stand his trial, was written - on October 5, 1801, not on October 28. _State Trials_, vol. - xxviii. p. 99. - -NOTE II.--_State Trials of the Nineteenth Century._ By G. Latham Brown -(Sampson Low, 1882). Vol. i. pp. 28-42. - - On page 31 the author states that he has searched the records - of the Privy Council in vain for a report of the charges - brought against Wall by Captain Roberts in 1783. As stated - previously, he would have found what he required in the columns - of the _Morning Post_ of August 13, or the _Gazetteer_, August - 14, 1783. It is strange that he is unaware that Wall flogged to - death two other soldiers besides Benj. Armstrong. - -NOTE III.--_Edinburgh Review_, January 1883, _vide_ criticism of G. L. -Brown’s book, p. 81. - - To the writer of this review belongs the credit of being the - first to hint a doubt as to the justice of Wall’s conviction. - -NOTE IV.--_A Tale without a Name_--a tribute to Joseph Wall’s noble -wife--will be found in the works of James Montgomery, Longman (1841), -vol. iii. p. 278. _Vide_ also _Life of Montgomery_, by Holland and -Everett. Longman (1855), vol. iii. p. 253. - -NOTE V.--Other contemporary authorities are _Letters from England by -Don Alvarez Espriella_, Robert Southey, vol. i. pp. 97, 108, and the -familiar _Book for a Rainy Day_, by J. T. Smith, pp. 165-173. - - - - -THE KESWICK IMPOSTOR - -THE CASE OF JOHN HADFIELD, 1802-3 - - - “... a story drawn - From our own ground,--the Maid of Buttermere,-- - And how, unfaithful to a virtuous wife - Deserted and deceived, the Spoiler came, - And woo’d the artless daughter of the hills, - And wedded her, in cruel mockery - Of love and marriage bonds.... - Beside the mountain chapel, sleeps in earth - Her new-born infant.... - ... Happy are they both, - Mother and child!...” - - --_The Prelude_, Book vii. WORDSWORTH. - - -During the late autumn of 1792, a retired military man of amiable -disposition and poetic temperament, who had made a recent tour through -Cumberland and Westmoreland, published his impressions in a small -volume which bore the title _A Fortnight’s Ramble to the Lakes_. -The book displays the literary stamp of its period just as clearly -as a coin indicates the reign in which it is moulded. Fashion had -banished the rigour of the pedant in favour of idyllic simplicity. The -well-groomed poet, who for so long had recited his marble-work epistle -to Belinda of satin brocade, now spoke to deaf ears; while the unkempt -bard, who sang a ballad of some muslin-clad rustic maid, caught the -newly-awakened sympathies of the artistic world. - -[Illustration: _Etched by J. Chapman_ - -JOHN HATFIELD. - -_Published J. Cundee Ivy Lane_] - -The author of _A Fortnight’s Ramble_, having the instinct of a good -literary salesman, was not backward in sentiment, and among his -thumb-nail sketches of rural life he was careful not to omit the -portrait of a village damsel. There is certainly much charm in the -impression of his humble heroine, whom he discovered in a tiny hamlet -on the shores of Lake Buttermere, where, according to the laws of -romance, she was the maid of the inn. No doubt the child of fourteen -was as beautiful as he describes her--with her long brown curls, big -blue eyes, rosy lips, and clear complexion, and with a grace of figure -matured beyond her years. The pity is that the picture was ever drawn. - -Before the close of the year the charms of ‘Sally of Buttermere’ had -been quoted in a London magazine, and henceforth the tourist was as -eager to catch a glimpse of the famous young beauty as to visit Scale -Force or Lodore. Very soon the inn where she lived--“a poor little -pot-house, with the sign of the Char”--became a place of popular -resort. Verses in her praise began to cover the white-washed walls; and -while she was in the full bloom of youth, wandering artists, who have -handed down to us her likeness, took the opportunity of persuading her -to sit for them. That Mary Robinson was a modest and attractive girl -is shown by the testimony of Wordsworth and Coleridge, and there is -evidence that she remained unspoilt in spite of her celebrity. - -Six years after the publication of _A Fortnight’s Ramble_, its author, -Joseph Budworth, paid a second visit to the home of his ‘Sally of -Buttermere’ Mary, who was nineteen, and still charming, seemed destined -(after the fashion of village maidens) to become a buxom beauty, and it -is said, indeed, that she had been most lovely at the age of sixteen. -Budworth, however, saw that she was quite pretty enough to attract -hosts of admirers, and conscience told him that he had not done well -in making her famous. There was Christmas merrymaking at the little -inn, and she reigned as queen of the rustic ball. Next morning he -confessed to her that he had written the book which had brought her -into public notice. - -“Strangers will come and have come,” said he, “purposely to see you, -and some of them with very bad intentions. We hope you will never -suffer from them, but never cease to be on your guard.” - -Mary listened quietly to this tardy advice, and thanked him politely. - -“You really are not so handsome as you promised to be,” Budworth -continued. “I have long wished by conversation like this to do away -what mischief the flattering character I gave of you may expose you to. -Be merry and wise.” - -Then, taking advantage of his seniority of twenty-three years, the -good-natured traveller “gave her a hearty salute,” and bade her -farewell. Unfortunately, he repeated his previous indiscretion by -publishing another long account of the Buttermere Beauty in the -_Gentleman’s Magazine_, and, like Wordsworth, who in similar manner -paraded the charms of ‘little Barbara Lewthwaite’ he lived to regret -what he had written. - -Two years later, a handsome middle-aged gentleman of fine presence -and gallant manners paid a visit to the Lake District, bearing the -name of Alexander Augustus Hope (brother to the third Earl Hopetoun), -who, after a successful military career, had represented the burgh of -Dumfries, and now sat in Parliament as member for Linlithgowshire. An -active, strong-limbed fellow, with courtly demeanour and an insinuating -Irish brogue, the contrast between his thick black brows and his fair -hair, between the patch of grey over his right temple and the fresh -colour of his face, added to an appearance of singular attractiveness. -These were the days of the dandies, when young Mr George Brummell was -teaching the Prince of Wales how a gentleman should be attired; and -Colonel Hope was distinguished by the neatness and simplicity of a -well-dressed man of fashion. - -The new-comer reached Keswick about the third week in July, travelling -in his own carriage without ostentation, having hired horses and -no servant. Soon after his arrival he went over to Buttermere, and -remained there for two or three days. Towards the end of the month he -visited Grassmere, where he became acquainted with a genial merchant -from Liverpool, whose name was John Crump. Being a most entertaining -companion--for he was a great traveller, had fought in the American -War, and, as might be expected of one so gallant and handsome, had been -engaged in numerous duels--Colonel Hope had the knack of fascinating -all whom he met. With Mr Crump, who for some reason was not in favour -with the young poet at Greta Hall, he struck up a great friendship -during his three weeks’ stay at Grassmere, and a little later the -merchant showed his appreciation by christening one of his children -‘Augustus Hope’ as a compliment to his new acquaintance. - -About the end of the third week in August the member of Parliament, -whose passion, we are told, was a rod and fly, left Grassmere, and, for -the sake of the char-fishing, took up his quarters at the little inn at -Buttermere. So pleased was he with the district, that he contemplated -the purchase of an estate, and Mr Skelton, a neighbouring landowner, -went with him to inspect a property near Loweswater. During his sojourn -at the Char Inn he paid frequent visits to Keswick to meet his friend -John Crump. Although wishing, for the sake of quiet and seclusion, -to travel incognito, Colonel Hope seems to have been a gregarious -person, and could not help extending the number of his acquaintances. -At the ‘Queen’s Head’ Keswick, where his Liverpool friend was in the -habit of stopping, he came across a kindred spirit in Colonel Nathaniel -Montgomery Moore, who had represented the town of Strabane in the -recently extinct Irish Parliament. - -Since the two had much in common, a close intimacy ensued; but there -was another reason for Colonel Hope’s friendly advances. A pretty young -lady of fortune, to whom Mr Moore was guardian, was one of his party, -and the new acquaintance began to pay her the most evident attention. -Colonel Hope, in fact, always had been remarkable for his insinuating -behaviour in the society of women, and since his arrival in the Lake -District he had been concerned in an affair of gallantry with at least -two local maidens far beneath him in station. However, this was a -pardonable weakness, for the Prince himself, and his brothers of York -and Clarence, did not disdain to stoop to conquer. But on the present -occasion the gay Colonel apparently had fallen in love, and when, -before very long, he asked the lady to be his wife, he was accepted. - -It is not strange that a man of his power of fascination and -handsome appearance should have met with success even on so short an -acquaintance. The match seemed a most suitable one in every respect, -and Mr Moore would have been well satisfied that his ward should be -engaged to a man of Alexander Hope’s rank and position. Yet the lover -did not hasten to take the guardian into his confidence. Remaining at -the little inn on the shores of Buttermere, only occasionally he made -the fourteen miles’ drive to visit his _fiancée_ at Keswick. Colonel -Moore, who could not remain blind to the flirtation, became anxious -lest his ward should place herself in a false position. It was evident -that the two behaved to each other as lovers, and the Irishman was -impatient for the announcement of the betrothal. Still, the love affair -ran a smooth course until the close of the third week in September; -but as the time went on, and the engagement remained a secret, the -suspicions of the lady’s guardian began to be aroused. Since it was -apparent that his friend had committed himself, his duty was plain. -There were only three explanations of his reticence. Colonel Hope -was not the man he pretended to be, or he had quarrelled with his -relatives, or else his passion was beginning to cool. - -The first proposition already had been whispered among a few. Although -his _bonhomie_ and air of distinction had made him a great favourite -with his inferiors, yet the fact that the reputed Colonel Hope was -travelling without servants, and had selected a woman of fortune as -his conquest, prejudiced critical minds. Coleridge, who was engaged in -basting the succulent humour of the gentle Elia before a roasting fire, -seems to have cast the eye of a sceptic upon the popular tourist from -the day of his arrival. However, no open rupture took place between the -Irishman and Alexander Hope, but towards the close of September they -met less frequently. - -On Friday, the 1st of October, Colonel Hope sent over a letter to his -friend at Keswick, explaining that business called him to Scotland, and -enclosing a draft for thirty pounds, drawn on Mr Crump of Liverpool, -which he asked him to cash. Pleased, no doubt, at this mark of -confidence, which may have appeared a favourable augury of his ward’s -happiness, Colonel Moore at once obeyed the request, and forwarded ten -pounds in addition, so that his friend might not be short of funds on -his journey. On the next day, the sensation of a lifetime burst upon -the people of Keswick. At noon, the landlord of the ‘Queen’s Head’ -returning from the country, brought with him the great intelligence -that the Hon. Colonel Hope had married the Beauty of Buttermere! - -It was obvious to everyone--aye, even to the sceptic of Greta -Hall--that the mystery was at an end. Alexander Hope was no impostor. -Avarice had not led him to attempt the capture of a lady of fortune. -Torn between love and honour, he had doubted whether to give his hand -when his heart was disposed elsewhere, or to break his word. Thus, -obeying the impulse of love, he had married a girl of the people. -Native pride in the Beauty of Buttermere was strong in every breast, -and the next mail conveyed to London the news of her great triumph. - -But Colonel Moore, who had the right to be wroth and suspicious, would -not be appeased by the explanations which satisfied the multitude. -Since he could not believe that a gentleman would behave in such a -fashion, he made haste to test the credentials of his late friend. The -bill of exchange was forwarded to Mr Crump, who, delighted to be of -service to Colonel Hope, from whom he had received an affectionate note -requesting the favour, at once accepted it! Still the Irishman refused -to be convinced, and he sent a letter to the bridegroom, informing him -that he should write to his brother, Lord Hopetoun. Moreover, he told -all friends of his intentions. - -[Illustration: _J. Smith, sculp._ - -THE BEAUTY OF BUTTERMERE. - -_Published in the Act directs. June 25-1803._] - -During his five or six weeks’ residence at the Char Inn, the amorous -tourist must have had full opportunity of forming a contrast between -the Irish girl and Mary Robinson. The Beauty of Buttermere was now in -her twenty-fifth year. A healthy outdoor life had matured her robust -physique, and her figure, though graceful still, had lost the lines of -perfect symmetry. The keen mountain air had robbed her complexion of -its former delicacy, and with the advance of womanhood her features -had not retained their refined, girlish prettiness. Still, her face -was comely and pleasant to look upon. The charm of her kind and modest -nature was felt by all who met her, and she seems to have possessed -culture and distinction far in advance of her lowly station. Indeed, -one of her most celebrated admirers hints plainly that a mystery -surrounded her parentage, and that her breadth of mind and her polished -manners were the result of gentle birth. However, there appears no -warrant for such a surmise. - -So, at last, Colonel Hope had begun to waver in his ardour for the -Irish girl. Naturally, she was not content to remain under a secret -engagement, and her inclinations favoured a brilliant wedding, which -her husband’s noble relatives should honour with their presence. Such -delay had not pleased the lover, who wished the announcement of the -betrothal to be followed by a speedy marriage. In this respect his -other inamorata had been less exacting. Poor Mary expected no pomp -or ceremony, and had never imagined that a peer and his people would -come to her wedding. All the odium that can attach to the man who pays -his addresses to two women at the same time is certainly his, for it -is stated on good authority that he made his first proposal to the -Cumberland girl before he commenced the courtship of Colonel Moore’s -rich ward. - -Then, when the heiress refused to fall in with his wishes, he -made the final choice. On the 25th of September he went over to -Whitehaven--about twelve miles as the crow flies from Buttermere--with -the Rev. John Nicholson, chaplain of Loweswater, a friend of two -weeks’ standing, to obtain a special licence for his marriage with -Mary Robinson. Naturally, no opposition was raised by the parents; -and although it has been said that the reluctant girl was overruled -by their persuasions, it is certain--as far as any judgment of human -nature can be certain--that she was a willing bride. Nor--since his -record shows that each woman whom he cared to fascinate was unable to -resist him--is it difficult to believe that Mary was in love with her -handsome suitor. - -On the morning of Saturday, the 2nd of October, the wedding took place -in the picturesque old church at Loweswater, in the beautiful vale of -Lorton, about seven miles from Buttermere. The ceremony was performed -by Mr Nicholson, who had become as firm a friend of the bridegroom as -Crump himself. Immediately after the service the newly married pair -posted off north to visit Colonel Hope’s Scotch estate. Their first -day’s journey was a remarkable one. Passing through Cockermouth and -Carlisle, they reached Longtown, near Gretna Green, at eight o’clock in -the evening, a distance of over forty miles. The next day being Sunday, -the bridegroom, who on occasions could affect much religious zeal, is -careful to record, in a letter to the chaplain of Loweswater, that they -made two appearances in church. On Tuesday or Wednesday they continued -their tour across the Border, but on the following Friday, owing -to Mary’s anxiety to receive news from her parents (so her husband -alleged), they retraced their steps to Longtown. Here, two days later, -important communications reached Colonel Hope, which made him resolve -to return to Buttermere without delay. - -Friend Nicholson wrote that scandalous reports concerning his honour -had been spread in the neighbourhood since his departure, and that -his wife’s parents had been much disturbed by the rumours that had -reached their ears--informing him also of Colonel Moore’s opinion of -his behaviour. This latter news was superfluous, for there was a letter -from the Irishman himself. Its contents may be gathered from the reply -that the traveller despatched to Nicholson on the 10th of October. With -amazing effrontery he tells his friend that his attentions to the Irish -heiress had never been serious, and expresses his astonishment that -Colonel Moore should censure his conduct. Yet he shows his concern for -the attacks on his integrity, declaring that he will come back at once -to meet his calumniators face to face. Moreover, he was as good as his -word. Probably he left Longtown for Carlisle, according to promise, -the next morning, and arrived at Buttermere on Tuesday, the 12th of -October. Thus Mary’s brief honeymoon came to an end. - -As luck would have it, a somewhat remarkable person, who happened to -be acquainted with Colonel Hope, was now staying at Keswick. This was -George Hardinge, senior justice of Brecon, the late Horace Walpole’s -friend and neighbour, the ‘waggish Welsh judge’ of whom Lord Byron -has sung. Having heard of the romantic marriage, and being anxious -to meet Colonel Hope, he sent a letter to Buttermere requesting a -visit. Early on Wednesday morning the newly married man drove over -to Keswick in a carriage and four, accompanied by his factotum, the -Rev. John Nicholson, to answer the summons in person. The meeting, -which took place at the ‘Queen’s Head’ Hotel, was an embarrassing one. -Pertinacious Nathaniel Moore, who no doubt had kindled in Justice -Hardinge’s mind the suspicions which had caused him to solicit the -interview, was present at the encounter. The Welsh judge found that -Colonel Hope of Buttermere renown was an entire stranger to him! - -However, the other was in no way abashed, but pointed out pleasantly -that the mistake had arisen through the coincidence of names. Mr -Hardinge persisted that it was remarkable that he should be Alexander -Augustus Hope, M.P. for Linlithgowshire, when the name of the -representative of that county was Alexander Hope. The reply was a -flat denial that these names and titles had been assumed, and we are -told that the credulous clergyman bore witness to the truth of this -statement. Nevertheless, other testimony against the accused man -had more weight with the astute George Hardinge. Not only was there -Colonel Moore’s declaration that the stranger had always passed as Lord -Hopetoun’s brother, but the Keswick postmaster was able to prove that -he had franked letters as a member of Parliament. The result was an -appeal for a warrant of arrest to a neighbouring magistrate, and the -suspected Mr Hope was placed in charge of a constable. - -Still, he did not appear disconcerted, but treated the whole matter as -a joke. Others, too, were of the same opinion, for during the course -of the day he presented a bill of exchange for twenty pounds, drawn -once more on John Crump, to the landlord of the ‘Queen’s Head’ which -that individual cashed without hesitation. The stranger at once sent -£10 to Colonel Moore to cancel the gratuitous loan received before -his departure to Scotland. Faithful Nicholson, too, retained full -confidence in his genial friend, who ordered dinner to be prepared for -both at the hotel, and continued to bear him company. - -Presently, the prisoner, chafing at the thought of being kept in -durance, asked permission to sail on the lake. As this appeared a -reasonable request, the wise constable gave his consent. The clergyman -accompanied his companion to the water’s edge, while he made fervent -protests of innocence. - -“If he were conscious of any crime,” he told his trusting friend, “a -hair would hold him.” - -Since, however, he declared that he was guiltless, as a natural -corollary he had no intention of being held by the whole force of the -Keswick constabulary, and Nicholson must have been aware of his design. -For not only did he give his friend a guinea to pay for the dinner -at the ‘Queen’s Head’ which was a plain hint that he did not mean to -return, but he told him that, as his carriage had been seized by his -accusers, his only chance of rejoining his wife at Buttermere was by -rowing down the lake. - -Luck favoured him. A fisherman named Burkett, who had been his -companion on many previous expeditions, had a boat ready for him, and -soon he was far across Derwentwater. A crowd of sympathisers, full of -wrath against his enemies, for they were sure he was a great man (as -an impostor would have had no motive in marrying poor Mary), stood on -the shore with Nicholson and the intelligent constable to watch his -departure. Soon the short October day drew to a close, and darkness -fell upon the waters, but ‘Colonel Hope’ did not return. Keswick never -saw his face again. - -The conduct of the Rev. John Nicholson has been the subject of -keen censure. Although the province of a parson is not that of the -detective, it is unfortunate that he did not suggest to the parents of -Mary of Buttermere that it would be wise to verify the statements of -their daughter’s suitor. On the other hand, it must be admitted that -everyone was infatuated by the splendid impostor, and it is evident -that the clergyman was not aware of the flirtation with the Irish -heiress. It is more difficult to defend Nicholson’s conduct at the -interview between Judge Hardinge and the swindler; for although we have -no precise details of the conversation, it is plain that the chaplain -of Loweswater was guilty of a strange reticence. Naturally, he knew -that his mysterious friend had passed under the name of Colonel Hope, -and had franked letters as a member of Parliament. Still, not only did -he refrain from exposing, but even continued to trust him, though he -must have perceived him to be a liar. However, charity may suggest the -conclusion that the clergyman was full of compassion for Mary Robinson; -and since he believed that her husband would join her at the little -Char Inn, he was determined, whether felon or not, that he should have -the chance of escape. - -The first announcement of the marriage of the celebrated Buttermere -Beauty with the brother of the Earl of Hopetoun was printed in the -_Morning Post_ on the 11th of October. Yet, three days later--the -morning after the remarkable escape at Derwentwater--a letter, written -on the highest authority, appeared in the same journal, denying the -previous report and stating that the real Colonel Alexander Hope was -travelling on the Continent. Thus, by chance, London and Keswick became -aware almost simultaneously that Mary Robinson had been the victim of a -cruel fraud. - -Although his flight had made it evident that the pretended member of -Parliament was an impostor, it was not until the last day of October -that his identity was discovered. Meanwhile, the most strange rumours -had been aroused. The fact that all his plate and linen were found -packed in his travelling carriage, which was retained by the landlord -in pledge for his twenty pounds, gave rise to the suspicion that he had -meant to desert his poor young bride. On the other hand, his admirers -persisted that he was an Irish gentleman, hiding from the authorities -because of his share in the recent rebellion. A costly dressing-case, -which he had left behind, was examined under warrant from a magistrate, -but nothing turned up to reveal his true name. In the end this -discovery was made by Mary herself. While looking over the dressing-box -more carefully, she disclosed a secret hiding-place containing a number -of letters addressed to him who had forsaken her. Alas for the Beauty -of Buttermere! No anticipation could have exceeded the cruel reality. -The handsome bridegroom was a married man, and these letters had been -written by the heart-broken wife whom he had deserted. ‘Colonel Hope’ -her supposed rich and noble husband, was a notorious swindler--guilty -of a capital felony--whose real name was John Hadfield! - -[Illustration: _Mary of Buttermere._] - -Since the days of ‘Old Patch’ no impostor had reached the eminence -of Hadfield. Born of well-to-do parents at Cradden-brook, -Mottram-in-Longdendale, Cheshire--where a neighbouring village may have -lent his family its surname--forty-three years before the adventure at -Keswick, his habits and disposition had always been superior to his -station in life. As a youth he was apprenticed to the woollen trade, -but proved too fond of adventure to succeed in business. Though much -of his career is wrapped in mystery, we know that he was in America -between the years 1775-1781, during the War of Independence, and that -he married a natural daughter of a younger brother of that famous -warrior the Marquis of Granby. - -Having squandered the small fortune he had received with her, the -elegant Hadfield left his wife and their children to take care of -themselves, and by means of credit managed for a short time to -enjoy a career of dissipation in London. By his favourite device of -extortion--passing drafts or bills of exchange upon persons of wealth, -who would be unlikely to prefer a charge against him--he was enabled to -continue his impositions without any more serious consequence than an -occasional visit to gaol. - -The King’s Bench Prison, where in 1782 he was confined for a debt -of £160, appears as the next grim landmark in his life. By a lucky -chance he was able to lay his case before the Duke of Rutland, who, -having discovered that the prisoner had married a daughter of his -late uncle, but being ignorant that the wife had died of a broken -heart in consequence of her husband’s desertion, generously paid the -sum necessary to obtain his release. For many years the impostor’s -dexterity in obtaining money under false pretences from credulous -strangers, who believed him to be a connection of the Manners family, -made it possible for him to associate with those far above his rank. - -During 1784, after a brief career of fraud in Dublin, where he posed as -a relative of the Viceroy, and by means of this falsehood contracted a -host of fraudulent debts, he was lodged in the Marshalsea Prison. With -unblushing impudence he appealed to the Lord Lieutenant--his previous -benefactor, the Duke of Rutland--who agreed to pay his debts on the -understanding that he should leave Ireland immediately. - -In the year 1792 Scarborough became the scene of his depredations. -Staying at one of the principal hotels, he announced his intention of -representing the town in Parliament in the interest of the Manners -family. A portrait of poor Captain Lord Robert caused him to burst into -tears, which evidence of feeling won the sympathy of all who witnessed -it. As usual, his sparkling conversation and distinguished appearance -disarmed suspicion, and for several weeks he lived in princely style at -the expense of his landlord. When pressed for money he did not hesitate -to offer bills of exchange, which the local tradesmen accepted without -demur. Yet the day of reckoning, which this remarkable man never seemed -to anticipate, could not be postponed. On the 25th of April he was -arrested for the hotel debt, and, not being able to find bail, was -cast into prison. Some weeks later, a detainer was lodged against him -by a London creditor, and for eight years he remained an inmate of the -Scarborough Gaol. - -During his long confinement he maintained his favourite pose as a -luckless aristocrat, writing poetry, and publishing much abuse against -the authorities. At last fortune smiled upon the interesting captive. -Neither Faublas nor Casanova ruled with more success over the female -heart, and it was to a woman that he owed his release. A Devonshire -lady, named Nation, who, it is said, occupied rooms facing the -prison, took compassion upon him, and paid his debts. On the 13th of -September 1800 the impostor became a free man, and the next morning, -notwithstanding that hitherto they had been strangers, he married his -benefactress. The pair made their home at Hele Bridge, near Dulverton, -on the borders of Somerset and Devon, where the bride’s father was -steward to a neighbouring landowner, and before very long Hadfield -plunged once more into a career of fraud. - -A marvellous _aplomb_, his previous commercial experience, and a -deposit of £3000 which he contributed towards the firm, induced Messrs -Dennis and Company, merchants of repute in the neighbouring town -of Tiverton, to admit him as a partner. In consequence of this new -enterprise, he removed during the summer of 1801 with his wife and -child to a cottage at the village of Washfield to be near his business. -As before, the utter lack of prescience and sagacity characteristic -of the man prevented him from reaping the fruits of his perverted -genius, as a less clever but more prudent would have done. The whole -transaction was a smartly conceived but clumsily arranged swindle. -Since the money for the partnership had been obtained by inducing a Mr -Nucella, merchant of London, to transfer Government stock, which soon -would have to be replaced, to the credit of Messrs Dennis, Hadfield was -compelled to realise his winnings without delay. For the sake of a few -hundred pounds of ready cash, he seems to have been eager to sacrifice -all that a man usually holds dear, and to have become a lawless -adventurer once again. - -In April 1802 he was obliged to decamp from Devonshire, leaving his -wife and children as before, while his partners in Tiverton, who soon -discovered that they had been defrauded by a swindler, proceeded -to strike his name off the books of the firm. During the following -June he was declared a bankrupt. Meanwhile he had proceeded to cut -a dash in London, and it is said that he came forward as candidate -for Queenborough, with the object of obtaining immunity from arrest -as a member of Parliament. Being still provided with funds, he made -no attempt to surrender to the commission issued against him; but -compelled, through fear of exposure, to relinquish his political -ambitions, he went on a leisurely tour through Scotland and Ireland, -and in the month of July appeared at Keswick as ‘Colonel Hope’ to work -the crowning mischief of his life. - -There has been much conjecture with regard to the motives of Hadfield -in his conduct to poor Mary Robinson. The explanation that he was -actuated by pure animalism cannot be reconciled with our knowledge of -his temperament or his methods, setting aside the initial objection -that the sensualist, already cloyed by innumerable conquests, does -not usually play a heavy stake to gratify a passing fancy. Nor is it -credible that a man who had the heart to forsake two wives and five -children could have been influenced by love. At first sight it seems -probable that, just as the most reckless speculator often cuts a -desperate loss, he wished to quit a hazardous career of fraud, and to -live a life of quiet and seclusion in the humble home of the Beauty of -Buttermere. Such foresight, however, was wholly inconsistent with the -nature of the man; and even had he been capable of this reasoning, a -moment’s reflection must have taught him that his recent ostentation -had made retirement impossible. No; like that of every gambler, John -Hadfield’s destiny was ruled by chance. Each stake he played was -determined by the exigency of the moment; win or lose, he could not -draw back nor rest, but must follow blindly the fortunes of the day -to cover the losses of the past. Although not able to possess his -Irish heiress, the tiny dowry of Mary Robinson, the poor little inn -at Buttermere, seemed to lie at his mercy, and so he seized upon it -and threw it--as he would have thrown his winnings of any shape or -kind--into the pool. John Hadfield was a fatalist, and his motto, _Quam -minimum credula postero_. - -After the interview with Judge Hardinge, the adventurer became the -sport of chance once more. When he took boat from Keswick on the -evening of his clever escape, he steered his course to the southern -extremity of Derwentwater. The cluster of little islands soon must have -hid him from view, and no one thought of pursuit. Whatever may have -been his impulse, there was no time to bid adieu to his bride. The path -to safety lay far ahead over the high mountains. Having left the lake -under the guidance of his faithful friend Burkett the fisherman, his -course for a few miles was a comparatively easy one; but twilight must -have fallen before he had traversed the gorge of Borrowdale, and his -flight up the desolate Langstrath valley, which cleaves its way between -Glaramara and Langdale Pike, was made in the darkness. By night the -journey was a terrible one--over rocks and boulders, along a broken -path winding its course beside the mountain torrent, up the face of -the precipitous crags, and across the Stake, a tremendous pass high up -in the hills, dividing northern lakeland from the south. From Langdale -he struck west towards the coast, and after a journey of some fourteen -miles reached the seaport of Ravenglass, on the estuary of the Esk. In -this place he borrowed a seaman’s dress, and took refuge in a little -sloop moored near the shore, and here he was recognised on the 25th -of October. With a hue and cry against him, it was not safe to remain -near the scene of his latest crime. Going by coach to Ulverstone, he -continued his flight thence to Chester, where early in November he was -seen at the theatre by an old acquaintance. Then he appears to have -walked on to Northwich, and there for some time all trace of him was -lost. An advertisement, describing his appearance and offering a reward -of fifty pounds for his arrest, was published on the 8th of November -and scattered broadcast over the country. - -The next tidings of him came from Builth in Wales, where, on the -11th of November, he is said to have swindled a friend, who had no -knowledge that he was the Keswick impostor, by the usual device of a -bill of exchange. On the day following this performance, the London -post brought the newspapers containing the description of his person, -and he hurried away from the little town on the banks of the Wye in -his flight towards the south. For a time he still baffled capture, but -the pursuers steadily closed upon his track. On the 22nd of November -the authorities at Swansea were informed that a man resembling the -published account of the impostor had been seen in the mountains beyond -Neath, and the next day Hadfield was run to earth at the ‘Lamb and -Flag’ an old coaching inn about seventeen miles from the seaport town. -At once he was lodged in Brecon Gaol, and in about a fortnight’s time -the newspapers inform us that he was brought up to town by one Pearkes, -robin-redbreast. - -The romance of the case attracted a great crowd to Bow Street when -the notorious swindler was brought up for examination by Sir Richard -Ford on the 6th of December, and the investigation appears to have -been difficult and tedious, for he appeared before the magistrate each -Monday morning during the next three weeks. On one of these occasions -his attire is described as “respectable, though he was quite _en -déshabillé_,” his dress being a black coat and waistcoat, fustian -breeches, and boots, while his hair was worn tied behind without -powder, and he was permitted to appear unfettered by irons. Among other -requests he asked for a private room at Tothill Fields Prison, as he -objected to herd with common pickpockets, and he desired also to be -sent as soon as possible to Newgate. Although his wishes were not -granted, the solicitor for his bankruptcy made him an allowance of a -guinea a week. - -Most pathetic was the loyalty of the wife and benefactress whom he had -used so cruelly. The poor woman, who was the mother of two children, -travelled from Devonshire--a journey occupying a couple of days and a -night--to spend Christmas Day in prison with her unfaithful husband. -Numerous celebrities visited the court during the examination of the -impostor. Amongst those who were noticed more than once was the Duke -of Cumberland, drawn possibly by a fellow-feeling for the culprit, -and Monk Lewis, on the look-out for fresh melodrama. At last all the -charges against him were proved to the hilt--his offence against the -law of bankruptcy, his repeated frauds on the Post Office, the two -bills of exchange forged at Keswick. Still, although the iniquities of -his past were fully revealed, and although a shoal of unpaid debts, -fraudulently contracted, stood against his name, one circumstance -alone was responsible for the great popular interest, and aroused also -universal abhorrence. John Hadfield had been damned to everlasting fame -as the seducer of Mary of Buttermere. - -The extent of his baseness was disclosed in the course of the -proceedings at Bow Street. It was found that the poor girl was destined -to become the mother of his child, and that he was in debt to her -father for a sum of £180. Indeed, the motive of his mock marriage -became apparent, for he had endeavoured to persuade the trusting -parents to allow him to sell the little inn on their behalf, and -possibly, but for the interference of Justice Hardinge, he might have -succeeded. Mary refused to prosecute him for bigamy, but she was -induced to send a letter to Sir Richard Ford, which was read in court -at Hadfield’s fourth examination. - -“Sir,” she wrote, in the first agony of her cruel disenchantment, “the -man whom I had the misfortune to marry, and who has ruined me and my -aged and unhappy parents, always told me that he was the Honourable -Colonel Hope, the next brother to the Earl of Hopetoun.” - -Contemporary newspapers show that the Beauty of Buttermere became the -heroine of the hour--she was the theme of ballads in the streets; her -sad story was upon every lip; never was there so much sympathy for one -of her humble birth. - -Early in the new year, Hadfield, who received as much notice from -the journals as Madame Récamier’s wonderful new bed, was committed -to Newgate. With cool effrontery he dictated a letter to the press, -asking the public to reserve judgment until his case was heard, and, -as a wanton Tory newspaper declared, like Mr Fox and Mr Windham, he -complained bitterly of misrepresentation. A long interval elapsed -before he was sent north to stand his trial, and he did not reach -Carlisle Gaol until the 25th of May, whither he was conveyed by an -officer from Bow Street, who bore the appropriate name of Rivett. - -At the next assizes, on the 15th of August, he was arraigned before -Sir Alexander Thomson, nicknamed the ‘Staymaker’ owing to his habit -of checking voluble witnesses--a figure to be held in dread by -law-breakers of the northern counties, as the Luddite riots in a few -years were to show. Hadfield was not lucky in his judge, for the man -who, at a later date, could be harsh enough to consign to the hangman -the poor little cripple boy Abraham Charlson, was not likely to extend -mercy to a forger. - -The prisoner stood charged upon three indictments:-- - -(_a_) With having drawn a bill of exchange upon John Gregory Crump -for the sum of £20, under the false and fictitious name of the Hon. -Alexander Augustus Hope. - -(_b_) With having forged a bill of exchange for £30, drawn upon John -Gregory Crump, and payable to Colonel Nathaniel Montgomery Moore. - -(_c_) With having defrauded the Post Office by franking letters as a -member of Parliament. - -Only the first two were capital offences. - -James Scarlett, afterwards Baron Abinger, was counsel for the Crown, -and Hadfield was defended by George Holroyd, who, as a judge, displayed -masterly strength fourteen years later in directing the acquittal of -Abraham Thornton. It is recorded by some aggrieved journalist that the -crowd was so great it was difficult to take notes. Such odium had been -aroused against the betrayer by the sad story of Mary of Buttermere, -that ladies and gentlemen are said to have travelled twenty miles to -be present at his condemnation. At eleven o’clock in the morning the -prisoner was placed in the dock. The principal witnesses for the Crown -were George Wood, landlord of the ‘Queen’s Head’ Keswick; the Rev. John -Nicholson; and good-natured Mr Crump, who proved conclusively that he -had assumed a false name and had forged a bill of exchange. A clerk in -the house of Heathfield, Lardner and Co. (late Dennis), of Tiverton, -called Quick, and a Colonel Parke, a friend of the real Colonel -Alexander Hope, supplied other necessary evidence. One witness only--a -lawyer named Newton, who had been employed by Hadfield in the summer -of 1800 to recover an estate worth £100 a year, which he had inherited -from his late wife--was summoned by the defence. - -The prisoner bore himself in a calm and dignified manner, taking -copious notes, and offering suggestions to his counsel. But his speech -to the jury--for still, and for many years afterwards, a barrister -was not allowed to address the court on behalf of his client, except -on some technical point of law--shows that he anticipated his doom. -“I feel some degree of satisfaction,” he declared, “in having my -sufferings terminated, as I know they must be, by your verdict. For -the space of nine months I have been dragged from prison to prison, -and torn from place to place, subject to all the misrepresentation of -calumny. Whatever will be my fate, I am content. It is the award of -justice, impartially and virtuously administered. But I will solemnly -declare that in all transactions I never intended to defraud or injure -those persons whose names have appeared in the prosecution. This I will -maintain to the last of my life.” - -Very properly the judge would not accept the plea set up by the -defence, that the financial position of the prisoner was a guarantee -that no fraud had been meditated. At seven o’clock in the evening, -after a consultation of ten minutes, the jury returned a verdict of -guilty. Hadfield received the announcement with composure, and when he -was brought up for sentence the next day--as was the barbarous custom -of those times--he displayed equal coolness. Kneeling down, and looking -steadily at the judge--who began to roll out a stream of sonorous -platitudes--he did not speak a word. - -From the first he seems to have been resigned to his fate, and gave no -trouble to his gaolers, but spent his time quietly in writing letters -and reading the Bible. Indeed, his whole behaviour was that of one -utterly weary of existence, and he does not appear to have desired or -expected a reprieve. All his life he had posed as a religious man, -and he lent an eager ear to the ministrations of two local clergymen -who attended him. Since there is no evidence that he was penitent, -we may adopt the more rational supposition that he was playing for -popular sympathy. It was seldom that he spoke of himself, and the -only reference he made to his own case was that he had never sought -to defraud either John Crump or Colonel Moore. A contemporary report -states that “he was in considerable distress before he received a -supply of money from his father. Afterwards he lived in great style, -frequently making presents to his fellow-felons. In the gaol he was -considered as a kind of emperor, being allowed to do what he pleased, -and no one took offence at the air of superiority which he assumed.” -Some days before his death he sent for an undertaker to measure him for -a coffin, and gave his instructions to the man without any signs of -agitation. - -On the day of his sentence, Wordsworth and Coleridge, who were passing -through Carlisle, sought an interview with him. While he received the -former, as he received all who wished to see him, he denied himself -to Coleridge, which makes it clear that he had read and resented the -articles written by the latter to the _Morning Post_. Neither his -father (said to have been an honest man in a small way of business) nor -his sisters visited him. Also his faithful wife, since probably the -state of her health or her poverty would not allow her to make the long -journey from Devonshire to Carlisle, was unable to bid him farewell. - -There has been much idle gossip concerning the conduct of Mary of -Buttermere after her betrayer was condemned to die. Some have said that -she was overwhelmed with grief, that she supplied him with money to -make his prison life more comfortable, and that she was dissuaded with -difficulty from coming to see him. Without accepting the alternative -suggested, among others, by De Quincey, that she was quite indifferent -to his fate, there are reasons for rejecting the other suppositions. It -is impossible that the most amiable of women would continue to love a -man who had shown so little affection towards her, and whose hard heart -did not shrink from crowning her betrayal by the ruin of her parents. -The story of the gift of money, also, seems unlikely, as her father -had been impoverished by the swindler, and the fund for his relief, -raised by a subscription in London--which did not receive too generous -support--had not yet been sent to Buttermere. And, finally--alas! -for romance--since the moral code even of the dawn of the nineteenth -century did not allow Mary Robinson to usurp the duties, more than -the name, of wife to the prisoner, it is incredible that a modest -woman would wish to renew the memories of her unhallowed union by an -interview with the man whose association with her had brought only -dishonour. - -The execution of John Hadfield took place on Saturday, the 3rd of -September. Rising at six, he spent half an hour in the prison chapel. -At ten o’clock his fetters were removed, and he was occupied most of -the morning in prayer with the two clergymen, who, we are told, drank -coffee with him. The authorities do not seem to have had any fear that -he would attempt his life, for they allowed him the use of a razor. -About the hour of three he made a hearty meal, at which his gaoler -kept him company. In those times there was a tradition in Carlisle -that a reprieve had once arrived in the afternoon for a criminal who -was hanged in the morning. Thus, nearly three weeks had been allowed -to elapse between Hadfield’s trial and execution--in order that there -might be plenty of time for a communication from London--and even on -the last day the fatal hour was postponed until the mail from the south -was delivered. - -Although it had been the opinion of the town that he would not suffer -the extreme penalty, the Saturday post, which arrived early in the -afternoon, brought no pardon. At half-past three he was taken to -the turnkey’s lodge, where he was pinioned, his bonds being tied -loosely at his request. Here he showed a great desire to see the -executioner--who, oddly enough, hailed from Dumfries, the town which -the real Colonel Hope had represented in Parliament--and gave him -half a crown, the only money he possessed. It was four o’clock when -the procession started from the prison, in the midst of an immense -concourse of spectators. Hadfield occupied a post-chaise, ordered from -a local inn, and a body of yeomanry surrounded the carriage. Without -avail he petitioned for the windows to be closed. The gallows--two -posts fixed in the ground, about six feet apart, with a bar laid across -them--had been erected during the previous night on an island, known -locally as the Sands, formed by the river Eden on the south side of -the town beyond the Scotch gate, and between the two bridges. A small -dung-cart, boarded over, stood beneath the cross-bar, Tyburn fashion, -in lieu of the new drop. As soon as it met his eyes, the condemned man -asked if this was where he was to die, and upon being answered in the -affirmative, he exclaimed, “Oh, happy sight! I see it with pleasure!” - -John Hadfield met his fate with the heroism which great criminals -invariably exhibit. Aged since his arrest, for he had been in prison -nearly ten months, he looked at least fifty. In every respect he had -become very different from the sprightly ‘Colonel Hope’ of the previous -summer. When he alighted from the carriage at the shambles he seemed -faint and exhausted, but this weakness was due to physical infirmity -and not to fear. A feeble and piteous smile occasionally played over -his white face. Yet none of the arrogance of pseudo-martyrdom marked -his bearing, but his quiet resignation and reverent aspect won the pity -of the vast crowd, bitterly hostile to him a short while before. It -was remarked that he had still an air of distinction, and was neatly -dressed; his jacket and silk waistcoat were black, and he wore fustian -breeches and white thread stockings. Just before he was turned off he -was heard to murmur, “My spirit is strong, though my body is weak.” We -are told that he seemed to die in a moment without any struggle, and -did not even raise his hands. An hour and a half later he was lying -in a grave in St Mary’s Churchyard, for his request that he should be -buried at Burgh-on-Sands was disregarded out of consideration for the -pious memory of Edward I. - -Were it not for his dastardly treatment of the women who gave him their -love, the fate of John Hadfield would seem hard. He was not hanged -for swindling John Crump out of £50--which indeed the value of his -carriage and its contents, left behind at Keswick, would have more -than cancelled--but for attempting to swindle him under the fictitious -name of Colonel Hope. Thus by assuming the character of another man he -became entangled in one of the fine-spun meshes of the law, and was -held guilty of an intention to defraud. Our great-grandfathers, who, -with the assistance of Sir Alexander Thomson, could hang an old woman -for stealing a few potatoes in a bread riot, thought it expedient also -to kill a man who obtained £50 by telling a lie. - -There is much truth in the proposition, which has been stated with -such inaccuracy by De Quincey, that, but for his heartless conduct to -Mary of Buttermere, John Hadfield might have escaped the gallows. It -is probable that Mr Crump would have been loth to advertise himself as -a credulous dupe, unless he had thought that it was his duty to give -evidence against a heartless seducer. Parson Nicholson, also, would -have had no reason to depart from the attitude he had taken up before -he was aware that he had officiated at a bigamous marriage. - -[Illustration: MARY of BUTTERMERE. - -_Sketched from Life July 1800_] - -Notwithstanding that his career was marked by so many villainies, John -Hadfield is in many respects an admirable rascal. Setting aside his -behaviour towards women--if that is possible even for a moment--he -played a part which required infinite tact and magnificent courage. -Although occasionally he robbed a man who was not rich, yet until -the crime of Buttermere such an occurrence was in the nature of an -accident, and was rather the fault of the wronged one for putting -himself in the path. Like Claude Duval, the Keswick impostor was in the -main merciful towards the impecunious; not indeed for conscience sake, -but because he believed that his rightful place was among the wealthy. -A hunter of big game, dukes, members of Parliament, and prosperous -merchants were his proper prey! And the man who could maintain a decent -social position for twenty years, in spite of the heavy handicaps of -poverty and lowly birth, and could compel those whom one of his class -should have met only as a lackey to receive him on equal terms, was -more than a common trickster. An insatiable love of pleasure robbed him -of all foresight and prudence, or such a consummate liar might have -climbed high. Even as he was--had an earl been his father--he might -have gone down to posterity as one of the greatest diplomats the world -has ever seen. - -The career of Samuel Denmore Hayward, hanged at the Old Bailey for -forgery on the 27th of November 1821, a picture of whom, dancing with -‘a lady of quality’ ornaments one version of the _Newgate Calendar_, -is similar to that of the Keswick impostor. Both men seem to have had -culture and address; each was distinguished for his social ambition, -and both were famous for gallantry. With the exception of James -Maclean, illustrious as the friend of Lady Caroline Petersham and -little Miss Ashe, none of our rogues--not even William Parsons, the -baronet’s son--have been such fine gentlemen. - -Mary Robinson’s child was born early in June 1803, but did not survive -its birth. Who can tell whether she wept over it; or if the words that -came from the lips of her parents, when they heard of the death of her -betrayer, did not seem a fitting epitaph--“God be thanked!” To avoid -the gaze of curious travellers the unhappy girl was obliged for a -period to leave her native place, and the shadow that had fallen upon -her young life was not lifted for many years. Yet, brighter days were -in store for the Maid of Buttermere. In the course of time she was -wooed and won by a Cumberland ‘statesman’ named Richard Harrison, to -whom she was married at Brigham Church in the May of 1808. Two of her -sons, born at Buttermere, where she resided for a period after her -marriage, died in infancy; but when her husband took her to his farm -at ‘Todcrofts’ Caldbeck, beyond Skiddaw--where the Harrison family -had been ‘statesmen’ for generations--she became the mother of five -more children, three daughters and two sons, all of whom grew up and -married. In later years it was remarked that her girls were as pretty -as Mary had been herself when she was the Maid of the Inn. There is -reason to believe that the rest of her career was happy and prosperous, -and she lived tranquilly in her home at ‘Todcrofts’ where she died in -her fifty-ninth year. The tombstone records that she passed away on the -7th of February 1837, while her husband survived her for sixteen years. -Both rest in the churchyard that holds the ashes of immortal John Peel, -who followed Richard Harrison to ‘the happy hunting-fields’ within a -few months. - - * * * * * - -(I am indebted to the kindness of Mr Richard Greenup, of Beckstones, -Caldbeck, one of Mary Robinson’s few surviving grandchildren, for much -interesting information.) - - - - -BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE HADFIELD CASE - - -I. CONTEMPORARY TRACTS, ETC. - -1. _Report of the Proceedings on the Trial of John Hatfield_, London. -Printed for A. H. Nairne and B. Mace. Sold by Crosby and Company price -6d. 1803. Brit. Mus. - - Although always spoken of as John Hatfield, the proper name of - the ‘Keswick Impostor’ if the register of his baptism is an - authority, was Hadfield. - - -2. _The Life of Mary Robinson_, the celebrated Beauty of Buttermere, -Embellished with an elegant coloured Print. London. Printed by John -Rhynd, 21 Ray Street, Cold Bath Fields. Sold by Crosby and Company, -Paternoster Row. Price 1/. 1803. Brit. Mus. - -3. _The Life of John Hatfield_, Printed and Published by Scott and -Benson. Keswick. James Ivison, Market Place 1846. Brit. Mus. - - -II. CONTEMPORARY NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES - - 1. _The Times_, Oct., Nov., Dec. 1802; Jan., Aug., Sept. 1803. - 2. _The Morning Post_, do. do. - 3. _The St James’s Chronicle_, do. do. - 4. _The Morning Herald_, do. do. - 5. _The Morning Chronicle_, do. do. - 6. _The True Briton_, do. do. - 7. _Lloyd’s Evening Post_, do. do. - 8. _The Carlisle Journal_, do. do. - 9. _The Leeds Mercury_, do. do. - - 10. _The Gentleman’s Magazine_, part ii. 1792, pp. 1114-16; - part i. 1800, p. 18-24; part ii. 1802, pp. 1013, 1062, 1063, - 1157; part ii. 1803, pp. 779, 876, 983. - - 11. _The European Magazine_, part ii. 1792, p. 436; part ii. - 1802, pp. 316, 477; part ii. 1803, pp. 157, 242. - -_Coleridge and the “Morning Post.”_ - - Three accounts from the pen of Coleridge, which appeared in - the _Morning Post_ of October 11, October 22, and November 5 - respectively, under the titles “Romantic Marriage” and “The - Fraudulent Marriage,” find a place in Coleridge’s “Essays - on His Own Times,” edited by his daughter. The late Mr H. - D. Traill, in his monograph in the “English Men of Letters” - series, has pointed out (note, p. 80) that “it is impossible - to believe that this collection, forming as it does but two - small volumes, and a portion of a third, is anything like - complete.” It is not an unwarrantable assumption that two - subsequent articles in the _Morning Post_, which appeared on - November 20 and December 31, were written from Greta Hall, and - that Coleridge therefore was responsible for the sobriquet “The - Keswick Impostor.” - - Sir Alexander Hope, brother of the third Earl Hopetoun, whom - Hadfield impersonated, was not (as stated in the _Dic. Nat. - Biog._) the second but the _eighth_ son of the second earl - (_vide Gentleman’s Magazine_, 1837, part ii. p. 423). - - -NOTES. - -NOTE I.--_A Fortnight’s Ramble to the Lakes in Westmorland_, Lancashire -and Cumberland. - - This book is reviewed at full length in the _Gentleman’s - Magazine_, December 1792, pt. ii. pp. 1114-16, and in the - _European Magazine_, December 1892, pt. ii. p. 436. The author, - Joseph Budworth, who afterwards adopted his wife’s surname, - Palmer, was a contributor to the former journal. Mary Robinson - is described under the pseudonym ‘Sally of Buttermere’ The - second edition of the _Fortnight’s Ramble_ is reviewed in - _Gentleman’s Magazine_, vol. lxvi. pt. i. p. 132, February 1796. - -NOTE II.--_A Revisit to Buttermere._ Letter from a rambler to ‘Mr. -Urban’ dated Buttermere, January 2 (_vide Gentleman’s Magazine_, -January 1800, pp. 18-24). - - This account was inserted in the third edition of _A - Fortnight’s Ramble_, published in 1810. Joseph Budworth tells - us that his second visit to Buttermere took place in January - 1798. - -NOTE III.--_The Prelude_, or Growth of a Poet’s Mind, by Wm. -Wordsworth. Commenced 1799, finished 1805, published 1850. The -Centenary edition of the works of Wm. Wordsworth. Six vols. Edited by -E. Moxon, 1870. - - Book VII., “Residence in London,” contains the famous reference - to Mary of Buttermere and her story. Describing various dramas - he has seen at Sadler’s Wells Theatre, the poet mentions one - written around the story of Mary of Buttermere. _Notes and - Queries_, Tenth Series, i. pp. 7, 70, 96. - -NOTE IV.--_The Collected Writings of Thomas De Quincey._ Edited by -David Masson. A. & C. Black (1889-90); _vide Literary Reminiscences_, -Samuel Taylor Coleridge, vol. ii. pp. 138-225. - - The description of ‘The Hadfield Affair’ occupies pp. 174-184, - and its numerous errors were the subject of a smart attack by a - correspondent in _Notes and Queries_ (First Series, vol. viii. - p. 26), July 9, 1853. - -NOTE V.--_The Tourist’s New Guide._ By William Green. In two volumes. -Kendal (1819), vol. ii. pp. 180-5, 221. _Seventy-eight Studies from -Nature._ By William Green. Longman (1809) p. 7. - - The various descriptions of Mary Robinson are so conflicting - that it is difficult, until one reads the impressions recorded - from year to year by Wm. Green, to form an estimate of her - personal appearance. It has been shown that Joseph Budworth, - who first saw her in 1792, when she was fourteen, raves of - her charms, and his second visit to Buttermere six years - later did not disillusionise him. De Quincey, however, denies - that she was beautiful, and does not praise even her figure. - Yet he seems to be unconscious that he is describing, not - the world-renowned ‘Maiden of Buttermere’ but a matron of - thirty-five, who was now the wife of a prosperous farmer, - and who had drank deeply of life’s sorrows. Mr Frederick - Reed of Hassness, Buttermere, writing in August 1874 (_Notes - and Queries_, Fifth Series, ii. 175), thirty-seven years - after her death, states that “she was not the beauty she is - represented to have been. She carried herself well, but got - to be coarse-featured.” Still, as it is improbable that Mr - Reed saw her till she was past her prime, his criticism is of - little value. Sara Nelson, too, who was born during the year of - Mary’s great trouble, did not meet her till her good looks had - vanished. The _Morning Post_ of October 11, 1802, contains the - following description from the pen of Coleridge:--“To beauty in - the strict sense of the word she has small pretensions, being - rather gap-toothed and somewhat pock-fretten. But her face is - very expressive, and the expression extremely interesting, and - her figure and movements are graceful to a miracle. She ought - indeed to be called the Grace of Buttermere rather than the - Beauty.” - - William Green tells us that he first saw Mary Robinson in - 1791, the year before she was noticed by Captain Budworth. - “At that time,” says he, “she was thirteen; and to an open, - honest, and pleasant-looking face, then in the bloom of - health, was added the promise of a good figure. Her garb, - though neat, was rustic; but through it, even while so young, - appeared indications of that mild dignity which was afterwards - so peculiarly attractive.” He saw her next in 1794. “The - infantine prettiness of thirteen was now matured into beauty; - her countenance beamed with an indescribable sweetness, and the - commanding graces of her fine person were equalled only by her - innate good sense and excellent disposition.” After remarking - that Captain Budworth’s panegyric seemed to have had no ill - effect upon her mind, he proceeds: “Like some other mountain - rustics, observed by the writer during his residence amongst - these thinly populated wilds, Mary’s beauty was ripened at - an early period; for this was, probably, the period of its - perfection.” Green did not see her again till 1801. “She was - then twenty-three, and though greatly admired for her general - appearance and deportment, was on the whole infinitely less - interesting than seven years before that time.” In 1805, the - date of his next visit to Buttermere, he noted a further - change. “Her features were pervaded by a melancholy meekness, - but her beauty was fled, and with it, that peculiar elegance of - person, for which she was formerly celebrated.” The next time - the artist saw her was in 1810. “She was no longer the Beauty - of Buttermere, but Mrs. Harrison, the bulky wife of a farmer, - blessed with much good humour, and a ready utterance.” This - was about the time when De Quincey saw her. Gillray’s sketch, - November 15, 1802, corroborates Green’s description. - - The _Dictionary of National Biography_ gives the date of - publication of _The Tourist’s Guide_ as 1822. This is an error. - It was published in 1819. The same monograph does not mention - Green’s _Survey of Manchester_. - -NOTE VI.--_East Cheshire._ By J. P. Earwaker, 1880, vol. ii. p. 136. - - Gives the following extract from the register of baptisms at - the parish church of Mottram-in-Longdendale:-- - - “1759. May 24, John, son of William Hadfield, and Betty, his - Wife.” The church register confirms this reference. - - John Hadfield’s father, who lived at Crodenbrook or - Craddenbrook, Longden, must have been a man of means, for in - 1760 he gave £20 to the poor. - -NOTE VII.--_Dic. Nat. Biog._ This excellent sketch is only marred by -the misspelling of Hadfield’s name, and the error in the date of his -birth. - - - - -A FAMOUS FORGERY - -THE CASE OF HENRY FAUNTLEROY, 1824 - - -_Part I.--The Criminal and his Crime._ - - “Then, list, ingenuous youth.... - And once forego your joy, - For your instruction I display - The life of Fauntleroy.” - - _The Dirge of Fauntleroy_, JAMES USHER, 1824. - -In the year 1792--not one of the least disastrous in our annals of -commerce--a small party of capitalists established a private bank under -the name of Marsh, Sibbald & Company of Berners Street. The chief -promoters--William Marsh, a naval agent, and James Sibbald of Sittwood -Park, Berkshire, a retired official of Company John--were gentlemen -of substance and position; while their managing partner, William -Fauntleroy (previously employed at the famous house of Barclay), was a -man of ability and business experience. Four years later, a younger son -of Sir Edward Stracey, a Norfolk baronet, who married eventually the -niece of Sir James Sibbald, was admitted into the firm. - -[Illustration: _HENRY FAUNTLEROY._] - -Although never a bank of great resources, it appears to have made a -fair return to its proprietors, and because of its connection with two -baronets--one of whom became Sheriff of his county--it was regarded -as a house of repute. In the spring of 1807 the firm received a -severe blow through the death, when only in his fifty-eighth year, of -the active partner, William Fauntleroy, in whom his colleagues placed -implicit trust. Luckily, however, it was possible to fill his place, -for his second son Henry, who had been employed as a clerk for seven -years, although only twenty-two, was fit and eager for the post. None -of the members of the firm were able to devote much attention to their -bank, and thus, by a strange chance, the sole control was left in the -hands of young Fauntleroy. - -A remarkable man in every respect, this youthful manager, who carried -with ease the burden of a great business on his shoulders. During -the second decade of last century no figure was better known to -those familiar with the west end of Oxford Street. Neat and elegant -as Brummell, grave and industrious as Henry Addington, he seemed a -model for all young men of commerce. Each morning at the same hour, -the front door of No. 7 Berners Street, where he lived with his -mother and sister, was thrown open, and the banker would step briskly -into the adjoining premises--the counting-house of Messrs Marsh, -Stracey, Fauntleroy & Graham. For he was a partner, also, as well as -absolute manager, this solemn young gentleman whose air of ponderous -respectability won the confidence of all. - -At first sight, his cleanly-chiselled features seemed to express merely -gentleness and simplicity, but a second glance would reveal a picture -of resolution and strength. In fact, the massive brow, the broad -cheekbones, and the firm, bold contour of the chin suggested a strange -likeness--one that he sought to emphasise by the close-cropped hair -made to droop over his forehead. It was his foible, this belief that -he bore a resemblance to the great Buonaparte--whose bust adorned his -mantelpiece--and the final catastrophe that overwhelmed him should -discourage any latter-day egoist who prides himself upon a similar -likeness. - -Springing from an industrious Nonconformist stock (for his father -had been the architect of his own fortunes, while his elder brother -William, who fell a victim to consumption at an early age, was a youth -full of the promise of genius), the temperament of Henry Fauntleroy -appears to have been as complex a piece of mechanism as Nature ever -enclosed within a human tenement. The love of toil, and an indomitable -perseverance, seemed to be the guiding principles of his life. Not only -did his fine courage never waver amidst the terrors of the financial -tempest, through which he stood at the helm of his frail bark, but he -gave no sign to his colleagues of the misgivings that must have lurked -within his mind. For commerce had fallen upon evil days. On every side -he beheld the crash and wreckage of his fellows, but, inspired by the -confidence which only the knowledge of power can bestow, he resolved -to continue his struggle against the storm. With a brain capable of -grappling with huge balance-sheets, an almost superhuman dexterity in -figures being his natural gift, the work of three men was the daily -task of this Napoleon of commerce. Although the members of his firm -were compelled to dive deeply into their pockets during these hazardous -years, to meet losses occasioned by the failure of clients engaged in -building speculations, the Berners Street Bank was handled so skilfully -that it managed to weather the storm. - -In spite of his vast abilities, there was nothing of bombast in -Fauntleroy’s nature, nor did external evidence show that he was engaged -in deadly warfare against the unpropitious fates. A gentle, unassuming -man, with a quiet charm of address, he won universal regard from all -with whom he came into contact. The gift of friendship, the infectious -knack of social intercourse, was part of his character. Naturally, the -circle in which he moved was composed of persons of refinement and, -in some cases, of eminence in the commercial world. While his hand -was ever open to the cry of distress, his board always had a place -for those who had gained his esteem. All the leisure he could snatch -seemed devoted to simple pleasures--a choice little dinner to a few -kindred spirits, a holiday at his suburban villa, or a week-end visit -to his house in Brighton. Though his earnest, florid face might be seen -often beneath the hood of his smart cabriolet, this carriage was used -principally in journeys between Berners Street and the City. In short, -few business men in London were held in greater respect than this -hard-working young banker, who was so like the Emperor Napoleon. - -Yet there was another side to the picture. Although ostensibly he lived -this simple and strenuous existence, a few bosom companions knew him -in another guise. Unknown to the world, those week-end parties at his -villa in the suburbs were tainted and ungodly. The sweet girl who sat -at the head of his table as mistress of his home had lost her maiden -innocence while her fresh young beauty was in its bud, lured by the -sensuous Fauntleroy almost from school. All her pretty friends belonged -to the same frail sisterhood, Cyprians beyond question, though modest -perhaps in demeanour and speech. And with these ‘Kates and Sues’ of -the town came Fauntleroy’s intimates, ‘Toms and Jerries’ unmistakably, -though possibly only in travesty, becoming sober men once more in -business hours. - -Or one might have seen him driving past the fetid Pavilion at -Brighton in his smart carriage, with its fawn-coloured lining, and -have recognised in the shameless features of the flashy lady at -his side the notorious ‘Corinthian Kate’ herself--in real life Mrs -‘Bang’ most ‘slap-up of ladybirds’ Then, again, at his luxurious -seaside home in Western Place, with its conservatories and sumptuous -billiard-room-draped as a facsimile of Napoleon’s travelling tent--his -Kate’s dear friend Harriet Wilson, or other illustrious fair ones, -would come to amuse his bachelor companions. Thus, in his leisure -moments, the industrious Fauntleroy enjoyed secretly the life of an -epicure and sensualist. Deep-buried in his soul the love of vice was -ever present. “There only needed one thing to complete your equipage,” -he writes, in plain _double entente_ that indicates his ruling passion, -to his friend Sheriff Parkins, “instead of the man at your side, a -beautiful angel!” - -Marriage had meant no sowing of wild oats to Henry Fauntleroy. A -mystery surrounds his union to the daughter of a naval captain named -John Young. It is known only that, although a son was born, the match -from the first was an unhappy one, and an early separation took -place. During the year of Waterloo a liaison with a married lady, who -had a complacent or shortsighted husband, increased the habits of -extravagance which in the end brought the banker to ruin. Later, the -pretty young girl Maria Fox, who had been educated at a convent in -France, consented to become the mistress of his suburban home. Thus -the double life continued; while to those who knew him only in Berners -Street, Mr Fauntleroy appeared the most righteous and respectable of -men. - -What was the nominal income of the young bank manager it is impossible -to ascertain; but whatever the sum, it is certain that before very long -his expenditure began to exceed his means. Probably he took the first -step on his downward march during the year of the hejira to Elba. The -strength and weakness of his character combined to make the position -of Tantalus unendurable. Nothing seemed more certain than that the -Berners Street house, which had never recovered from its unfortunate -speculations, would return large profits if its capital was sufficient -to meet all claims. Thus Fauntleroy decided not to take his colleagues -into his confidence. Such a step would have caused the business to be -wound up, and he would have lost his handsome salary. As one of his -most severe critics has pointed out, “he had not enough moral courage -to face the world in honest, brave poverty.” On the contrary, his -courage took another form. Confident that he must conquer evil fortune, -the self-reliant man resolved to commence a life-and-death battle with -fate, alone and unaided. And his choice was the frightful expedient of -forgery! - -The methods of Fauntleroy were of unparalleled audacity. Then, -as now, clients were in the habit of placing the certificates of -their securities in the hands of their bankers for safe custody. -So, by boldly forging the signature of the proprietor upon a power -of attorney, he was able to sell any particular investment that he -desired. Naturally, his depredations were confined to Government -securities--Consols, Long Annuities, Exchequer Bills--and thus in -effecting the fraudulent transfers his negotiations were with the -Bank of England. For a period of almost ten years this incomparable -swindler maintained the credit of his house in this manner, selling -stocks belonging to his clients to the value of hundreds of thousands -of pounds. As the proprietors received their dividends as regularly -as ever--for Fauntleroy took care that their pass-books were credited -with the half-yearly payments--they never knew that their investments -had been abstracted. On the death of an owner the stolen stock was -replaced, and thus the trustees were unaware of the theft. So the -frauds went on, each forgery being shrouded by another, until the total -deficit of the Berners Street Bank exceeded half a million! - -Narrow escapes were inevitable. On one occasion he was handing over a -power of attorney for the transfer of stock to one of the clerks in -the Consols Office at the Bank of England, when the person whose name -he had forged entered the room. Yet Fauntleroy’s _aplomb_ did not fail -him. As soon as he perceived the new-comer, he requested the clerk -to return the document, with the excuse that he wished to correct an -omission. Then, having secured the paper, he went to greet the friend -whom he was about to rob, and they strolled out of the bank together. -Another day, one of his lady clients instructed a London broker to sell -some stock for her. Finding no such investment registered in her name, -the man called at Berners Street to make inquiries. To his surprise -the plausible banker informed him that the lady had already desired -him to effect the sale. “And here,” continued the smiling Fauntleroy, -producing a number of Exchequer bills, “are the proceeds.” Although his -customer protested that she had never authorised the transaction, the -matter was allowed to drop. While a friend was chatting in his private -office he is said to have been imitating his signature, which he took -out to the counting-house before his companion had departed. One of -the last occasions when he visited the Bank of England was on the 5th -of January, the day on which Thurtell and Hunt were tried for the -Gillshill murder. While the clerk was crediting the dividend warrants -due to his firm, the banker conversed about the crime. It was noted -as a strange coincidence that the same clerk was one of the witnesses -against him. - -One day in September 1824, Mr J. D. Hulme, an official of the Custom -House, wishing to examine a list of investments belonging to an -estate of which he had become a trustee, paid a visit to the Bank of -England. To his amazement he found that a sum of £10,000 in Consols -was missing, and inquiry proved that the stock had been sold by the -Berners Street manager under a power of attorney. On the advice of -Mr Freshfield, solicitor of the bank, an application was made to Mr -Conant of Marlborough Street, who was induced to grant a warrant for -the arrest of the suspected man. At last the wily Fauntleroy had been -caught napping; for although he was aware that there was a risk of -exposure, and had made preparations to reinvest the stolen Consols, he -had not yet been able to complete the transaction. - -During the whole of Thursday night, Samuel Plank, chief-officer of -Marlborough Street, finding that the banker was away from home, paraded -Berners Street watching for his return. On the next morning, the 10th -of September, at his usual hour, the grave, neatly dressed forger -walked into his place of business. A mean trick marked the arrest. -Mr Goodchild, the other co-trustee of the plundered estate, entered -the counting-house a few moments before Plank, and proceeded into the -private office, while the constable, pretending to cash a cheque, -remained at the counter. When through the half-closed door of the inner -room he saw that the victim and decoy were closeted together, the -police-officer pushed past the astonished clerks, explaining that he -wanted to speak to their employer. As Fauntleroy raised his eyes from -his desk, and saw a warrant in the intruder’s hand, he realised that -the visit of his friend was merely a device to place him in the hand of -the law. - -“Good God!” exclaimed the doomed man. “Cannot this business be settled?” - -And tradition relates that he offered Plank a bribe of ten thousand -pounds to allow him to escape. But the officer proved incorruptible, -and soon the banker was standing in the presence of his astonished -friend, Magistrate John Conant, who, though sore distressed, was -compelled to commit him to Coldbath Fields prison. - -“I alone am guilty,” cried the wretched Fauntleroy, in a burst of -penitence. “My colleagues did not know!” - -Like the great model whom he had striven to emulate, the vain man had -found his Moscow. No longer was he the dandy banker of Berners Street, -whose friendship had been sought by so many rich men from the City. -The days of the lavish Corinthian, the associate of ‘bang-up pinks -and bloods’ had passed away for ever, and he had become a criminal, -standing beneath the shadow of the gallows! - -While Mr Freshfield, with the aid of the constable, proceeded to -execute his right of search, the members of the firm were summoned to -town. At first the catastrophe was not appreciated to the full extent. -On the following morning the bank opened its doors, and customers paid -and drew their cheques as usual. However, before the close of the day -the proprietors sent an announcement to the press that “in consequence -of the extraordinary conduct of their partner,” they had determined for -the present to suspend payment. - -During the whole of Monday, the 13th of September, an excited throng -took possession of Berners Street--neighbouring tradesmen trembling for -their deposits; men from the City dismayed by the wildest rumours. A -force of police was deemed necessary to prevent a riot. “Arrest of Mr -Fauntleroy, the well-known banker!” The amazing tidings was upon every -lip. A similar sensation had not been experienced in the memory of -man. Since the days of Dr Dodd, half a century before, none so high in -the social scale had been accused of such a crime. All the week, panic -reigned in business houses. It was whispered that the defalcations -would reach half a million pounds: that the greatest commercial -scandal of the age would be disclosed. One day, it was said that -Fauntleroy had arranged a plan of escape; on another, that he had cut -his throat with a razor. - -In the presence of a crowd of his creditors, the forger--crushed, -despairing, overwhelmed with the deepest shame--was brought up for his -first examination at Marlborough Street on the following Saturday. -Although not more than forty, his hair, prematurely grey, made him look -much older. During ten long years of torture the slow fires of suspense -must have burnt deep into his soul, and the reality of this fatal -hour would seem less cruel than the dreaded expectation. One observer -states that “his expression is of pure John Bull good-nature”; another -declares that he had “a mild Roman contour of visage”; while his dress -was the inevitable blue tail-coat and trousers, with half-boots and a -light-coloured waistcoat--the morning attire of all gentlemen of the -period from Lord Alvanley and Ball Hughes down to Corinthian Tom. - -On the Friday week following his first examination, the forger stood -once more in the dock at Marlborough Street. Two maiden ladies, Miss -Frances and Miss Elizabeth Young, whose small fortune had been stolen, -gave testimony against the prisoner. Pained to see the man whom they -had honoured and trusted in this terrible position, the tender-hearted -women were tearful and distressed. Since the maiden name of Mrs Henry -Fauntleroy was the same as theirs, rumour leapt to the conclusion that -these witnesses were the sisters of the prisoner’s wife. When the -unfortunate banker was seen to flush deeply as Miss Young appeared in -the witness-box, the error was confirmed. - -It was not until the 19th of October that the accused went through his -third and last examination. Although well-groomed and immaculate as -ever, he was a mere shadow of the placid, inscrutable man of business -who had borne his guilty secret so boldly and so long. There was -“rather a ghastly than a living hue upon his countenance,” remarks the -stylist who reports for _The Times_. All the necessary charges being -proved, he was committed to Newgate, his removal being postponed until -Thursday, the 21st of October, on the application of his solicitor. - -Meanwhile the London press had revelled in the case. Scarcely a day -passed without a reference to the forger or to the forgery, and there -was the greatest strife among the various newspapers to secure the -most lurid reports. Many times we have the amusing spectacle of two -journals belabouring each other like the envious editors in _Pickwick_. -Even the recent crime of John Thurtell--for in this wonderful fourth -year of his Gracious Majesty King George IV. the lucky public was -satiated with melodrama, while Jemmy Catnach’s pockets were overflowing -with gold--did not offer such chances of sensational reports. It was -announced to an amazed public that Fauntleroy had squandered the -proceeds of his forgeries in riot and dissipation. One-half of his -private life was disclosed to public ears; and though some of the -newspapers were merciful, just as others were hostile to the prisoner, -one and all, with very few exceptions, probed deep into his murky past. - -Happily, there is no evidence to justify the supposition that the -partners in the Berners Street bank--and in particular Mr J. H. -Stracey, who thirty years later succeeded to the baronetcy held in turn -by his father and his two brothers--were responsible for the dastardly -attacks upon the defenceless man. Even had he given no public denial -to the charge, such an assumption is impossible in the case of an -honourable man like the late Sir Josias Stracey. Moreover, the identity -of the person who inspired the disgraceful accounts in _The Times_ and -other journals is easy to discern. - -This spiteful enemy bursts upon the stage of the sad tragedy of -Fauntleroy like the comic villain of melodrama--too contemptible to -hate, but with a humour too crapulous for whole-hearted laughter. -Joseph Wilfred Parkins--elected Sheriff of London on the 24th of June -1819--appears to have been one of the most blatant humbugs that ever -belonged to the objectionable family of Bumble. Tradition relates that -he was the son of a blacksmith who lived on the borders of Inglewood -Forest in Cumberland; but Parkins, too proud to know from whence he -came, preferred to pass as a bastard of the Duke of Norfolk. In his -early youth, we are told that “he was apprenticed to a breeches-maker -in Carlisle, but his dexterity as a workman not being commensurate -with his powers of digestion, a separation took place.” Afterwards he -sailed to Calcutta, where, assisted by letters of introduction from his -patron the Duke, he established a lucrative business. In other ways, -according to account, he was a success in India, where he became famous -for hunting tigers with English greyhounds, and once shot a coolie for -disobeying his orders, two miles and a half distant, right through -the head, across the Ganges, and through an impenetrable jungle! On -another occasion he claimed to have ridden stark naked in mid-day, on -a barebacked horse without bridle, fifty miles in six hours, for a -wager, and to have trotted back for pleasure without even a drink of -water. When he returned to his native land with the treasures of the -East, it was inevitable that such a man should win notoriety. Having -failed to gain the affections of Queen Caroline, who preferred Alderman -Wood for a beau, he devoted himself to Olive Serres, ‘Princess of -Cumberland’ and became her champion and literary collaborator. One of -the achievements on which he most prided himself was the refusal to -marry a daughter of Lord Sidmouth, who was most eager to become his -father-in-law. Sometimes we behold him fawning upon Lord Mayor Waithman -and Orator Hunt. At others, no one excels him in hurling abuse at these -same celebrities. During a portion of his career a charmer named Hannah -White caused him much trouble. Probably he enjoys the unique honour of -being the only Sheriff of London upon whom the Court of Common Council -has passed a vote of censure for his conduct while in office. - -For some years this great Parkins was a familiar friend of Henry -Fauntleroy. “I have been looking out for you in town these three or -four days,” the banker writes to him in May 1816, “as we have a dance -this evening, and lots of pretty girls, and I know you are an admirer -of them.” However, just after the arrest, the ex-Sheriff suspected -his former associate unjustly of a breach of faith, and thus became -his most deadly enemy, placing his intimate knowledge of his friend’s -habits at the service of the hostile press. In order to exhibit the -bankers depravity, he published a communication from the fair but frail -Corinthian Kate, known in real life as ‘Mother Bang’ but the context -chiefly serves to indicate that Parkins treasured a grudge because his -friend had never introduced him to the lady. Even after the criminal -had received sentence his animosity did not cease. “The penalty for -forgery should be the gallows,” he declared at a meeting of the Berners -Street creditors, “until the law discovered a worse punishment.” -When the only son of the condemned man, a youth of fifteen, wrote -to the papers, pleading that mercy should be shown to his father, -the vindictive ex-Sheriff declared in the columns of the _Morning -Chronicle_ (as it proved, falsely) that the boy was not the author -of the appeal. Nor did he scruple to print private letters from Mrs -Fauntleroy to her husband in order to show that she was an ill-used -wife. - -Great indulgence was shown to the banker--for a forger always was -treated with lenience--during his term of imprisonment at the Old -Bailey. The same consideration--which aroused the ire of Parkins to -boiling point--had been paid to him while he was under the care of Mr -Vickery, ex-Bow Street runner, at that time the Governor of Coldbath -Fields bridewell. On this account there arose a very pretty quarrel, at -which, of course, the newspapers assisted, between John Edward Conant -of Marlborough Street and an elderly magistrate of Hammersmith named -John Hanson. The latter was accused of intruding into Fauntleroy’s room -at the House of Correction, when the following conversation is said to -have taken place: - -“You are the banker from Berners Street, aren’t you?” demanded the -visitor. - -“Yes, I am that unfortunate person, sir,” answered the prisoner. - -“Oh, then you’d better look to your soul,” was the reply. “Look to your -Bible. Read your Bible.” - -Although poor old Hanson, who was struck off the list of visiting -justices in consequence of his officiousness, made many earnest -protests that he had been misrepresented, and although Fauntleroy -acquitted him of all intent to offend, it would appear that his -observations were superfluous, whatever their precise form. - -At Newgate the kind-hearted Mr Wontner--keeper of the gaol from 1822 -till his premature death at the age of fifty in 1833--allowed the -unfortunate banker every privilege that lay in his power. Thus his -prison was no gloomy dungeon, but a large and well-furnished room, -occupied by a turnkey named Harris, who removed into an adjacent -apartment, and who, together with his wife, watched over and attended -to the wants of his charge. Convinced that his case was hopeless, it -is said that Fauntleroy resolved to plead guilty; but, urged by his -friends, and by his solicitors, Messrs Forbes & Harmer, he was induced -at last to abandon the intention. - -James Harmer, who conducted his defence, was the great criminal -lawyer of his day--a prototype of Mr Jaggers--the prince of Old -Bailey attorneys. Among his clients were such diametrically opposite -characters as Joseph Hunt of Gillshill fame, and lusty Sam Bamford -of Middleton. The incidents of Mr Fauntleroy’s case offered many -opportunities for his versatile talents; and although he failed to -teach good manners to _The Times_ newspaper, he did much service to his -age, by means of a side issue, in getting Joseph Parkins indicted for -perjury. Yet the greatest abilities could do little to extenuate the -Berners Street forgeries. Still, whether or not he had a weakness for -scented soap, Harmer never fought in kid gloves, as the unfortunate -Messrs Marsh, Stracey, & Graham--whom he was compelled to damage in the -interests of the man he defended--found to their cost. Those inclined -to accuse Charles Dickens of exaggeration should bear in mind that -murderer Hunt, who chose Jaggers Harmer as his solicitor, escaped the -hangman’s rope, while Thurtell, who employed another lawyer, was handed -over to Thomas Cheshire. - -The trial of Fauntleroy on Saturday, the 30th of October, did not -attract the mob of respectables that officialdom had anticipated. A -guinea entrance-fee proved prohibitive. Press and law students alone -furnished their crowds, and the private galleries were patronised but -poorly. Joseph Parkins, eager to witness the humiliation of the man -whom he had chosen to regard as an enemy, was an early arrival, taking -his place at the barristers’ table in front of the dock, where, in full -view of the prisoner, he could gloat over his misery. Luckily, Sheriff -Brown, whose humanity--like that of his colleague John Key--was -in advance of the age, witnessed the manœuvre, and, appreciating the -motive of the truculent nabob, sent an officer of the court to tell -him that his seat was engaged. Parkins, whose fierce eyes, glaring -from beneath bushy, overhanging brows, seemed to inflame his combative -features and fiery locks, turned in outraged dignity upon the official. - -[Illustration: - -_James Harmer, Esqʳ._ - -_Solicitor._ - -_Engraved by T. Wright from a Drawing by A. Wivell._ - -_London, Published August 1ˢᵗ, 1820, by A. WIVELL, 105, Great -Titchfield Street._] - -“Do you know to whom you speak, sir?” he articulated. - -“Know you?” was the reply. “To be sure I do. Come, be off!” - -So the ‘XXX Sheriff’ was forced to make his exit by climbing -ignominiously over seats and benches, to the infinite mirth and -advantage of the gentlemen of the press. - -At ten o’clock Justice Park and Baron Garrow come into court, followed -by the Attorney-General, the great Sir John Copley, soon to be Lord -Lyndhurst, who, instructed by Mr Freshfield, solicitor to the bank, -has charge of the prosecution. John Gurney, afterwards a judge, who, -like Scarlett and Adolphus, is one of the great criminal barristers of -his day, defends the prisoner. The buzz of many voices is hushed into -silence as Fauntleroy is placed at the bar. Jaggers Harmer accompanies -him. For a moment he is dazzled by the glare from the inverted mirror -above the dock. Making a feeble attempt to bow to his judges, he almost -falls back into the arms of the attendants. With closed eyes and bent -head, shrinking from the universal gaze, he stands with trembling -fingers resting on the bar--a picture of unutterable shame. Thin and -worn are his features, and his face is pale as death, while his hair, -thrown into contrast by his full suit of black, has become white as -though sprinkled with powder. - -The Attorney-General proceeds with the first indictment, that which -charges the prisoner with transferring under a forged deed £5450 Three -per cent. Consols, belonging to Miss Frances Young. During the speech -there comes a disclosure amazing to everyone in court save the man in -the dock and those who defend him. In a private box found at Berners -Street after his arrest, a document has been discovered containing a -list of stolen securities. Upon this paper, written and signed by the -hand of Fauntleroy, and dated the 7th of May 1816, are these words, -which, as Sir John Copley reads them, bewilder all his hearers:-- - -“In order to keep up the credit of our house I have forged powers of -attorney, and have thereupon sold out all these sums, without the -knowledge of my partners. I have given credit in the accounts for the -interest when it became due. The Bank (of England) began first to -refuse our acceptances, and thereby to destroy the credit of our house; -they shall smart for it.” - -Attorney-General and rest of the world are much puzzled, concluding -that but for unaccountable negligence the prisoner would have destroyed -this seemingly incriminating document; as though a forger would not -prefer that his frauds should be thought to have been actuated rather -by devotion to his business and revenge against the unpopular Old Lady -of Threadneedle Street than merely for the sake of self-aggrandisement. -“The Bank of England shall smart for it!” Were the story credible--were -Fauntleroy, in fact, a small defaulter--we may well believe that -another fierce outcry would have arisen against the wicked old harridan -of the City. - -There is little difficulty in proving the indictment, while the poor -wretch in the dock sits huddled in his chair, trying vainly to conceal -his face with his handkerchief. A couple of his own clerks swear that -the signature to the deed is a forgery. Tear-stained Miss Young, whom -most regard as the sister-in-law of the accused man, proves that her -slender store of investments has been pilfered. Officials of the -Bank show that the unhappy prisoner was the thief. There crops up -a curious instance of the _naïveté_ of British jurisprudence. For -Threadneedle Street has been obliged to refund the stocks belonging to -Miss Young in order to make her ‘a competent witness’ lest it might -seem that she has a motive in affirming or denying the forgery of the -power of attorney. Thus the Old Lady confesses that she has bribed a -witness in order that this witness may not be suspected of trying to -obtain a bribe! - -[Illustration: _FAUNTLEROY’S TRIAL AT THE OLD BAILEY._] - -When Fauntleroy is called upon for his defence, he manages to stagger -to his feet. The law of England will not allow his counsel to speak -for him. Drawing a paper from his bosom, and wiping away the tears -that stream from his eyes, he adjusts his glasses. Then, in a clumsy, -insincere manner, like a schoolboy’s recitation, he begins to read -a long apology. It is apparent that he has not written the speech -himself, and it makes no impression. Commencing with a complaint -against the false and libellous accounts in the press, he sketches -the history of the Berners Street Bank in order to show that it has -received the benefit of the whole of his forgeries; describing how he -alone has borne the burden of the business and the anxiety of perilous -speculations, while his partners have given him no assistance. All his -frauds were accomplished to cover commercial losses, the withdrawal -of borrowed capital, and the overdrafts of two of his colleagues. To -every one of the charges of prodigality he offers an emphatic denial. -In conclusion, he makes a pathetic vindication of his conduct towards -his wife, declaring that not only are the statements published in the -newspapers false, but that she has had always the best of feeling -towards him. - -Although just and merciful, the address of the judge is hostile to the -prisoner, and the jury, who retire at ten minutes to three, return in -less than a quarter of an hour with a verdict of guilty. Exhausted -with his long ordeal, poor Fauntleroy is incapable of exhibiting -emotion. A vacant expression is stamped on his pallid features, and -when Justice Park tells him that the trial is over he sinks listlessly -into his chair. Raising him in his arms, Governor Wontner supports him -from the dock. - -On the following Tuesday, when the convict is brought up to hear his -doom in the New Court, Messrs Broderick and Alley move an arrest of -judgment on certain technical points of law. Justice Park, who is said -to have been acquainted with the prisoner, does not attend, but neither -Baron Garrow nor the Recorder will accept the empty but ingenuous -arguments of counsel. The prisoner reads a paper, stating that when he -committed the forgeries he had expected to repay the money when his -house prospered. Thus he begs for mercy from the Crown. Sentence of -death is the reply. - -After the publication of Fauntleroy’s defence, the press attacks--as -no doubt Jaggers Harmer had foreseen--are turned against the unlucky -partners. All the statements of the condemned man find acceptance, like -the protests of every criminal, and it is believed that his colleagues -must be guilty of complicity in the frauds. From _The Times_ comes a -demand that Messrs Marsh, Stracey, and Graham shall be examined before -the Privy Council! A petition for reprieve is promoted by the creditors -of the Berners Street house, on the plea that Fauntleroy’s evidence -is necessary to elucidate the intricate accounts. Another lies at the -office of Harmer’s paper, the _Weekly Dispatch_. - -Condemned convicts are quartered still, and for many years afterwards, -in the part of the prison known as the Press Yard--a walled quadrangle, -where they are allowed to herd together indiscriminately during certain -hours, adjacent to a three-storied building containing a day-room -and the cells in which they are locked at night. Being a person of -consequence, the miserable banker does not share this ignominy, but -returns to the same apartment that he had occupied before his trial. -Since the use of fetters had been abolished in Newgate, he is not -required to endure even the ‘light manacles’ which some of the papers -state he is wearing. - -Remaining faithful to the end, although so deeply wronged, his poor -wife is a constant visitor. His brother John, a London solicitor, and -his fifteen-year-old son, reported variously as being educated at -Winchester and Westminster (afterwards at Skinner’s, Tonbridge), come -frequently to the prison. The beautiful Maria Fox, a mere schoolgirl -when first she became his mistress, and who appears to be deeply -attached to her protector, brings her two baby daughters to Newgate. -Few men in their last hours have witnessed more terrible examples of -the ruin they have wrought than the weak and self-indulgent Henry -Fauntleroy. - -Gentle Mr Baker, the white-haired layman of the map office in the -Tower, whose work in the foul dungeon was scarcely less admirable -than that of Elizabeth Fry, seems to be more successful in winning -the affections of the condemned man than Ordinary Cotton; and the -efforts of this good Samaritan are aided by a clergyman from Peckham, -named Springett, to whom Fauntleroy had been introduced by a friend. -These two are his constant companions during the remainder of his -imprisonment. Most of his old associates prove loyal, in spite of his -infamy and disgrace, for the fearful penalty of the forger is thought -to atone for the greatest of frauds. - -Meanwhile, exertions for a reprieve continue. The condemned banker is -not included in the Recorder’s report on the 20th of November at a -meeting of the Council, over which the King is said to have presided, -and the case is argued twice before the Judges on the 23rd and 24th of -the month. George IV., the only one of the four who was a gentleman, -a scholar, or a man of artistic taste, the only one whose foolish -egotism did not embroil the country in a costly and bloody war, was -also the only one with a merciful heart. His first great fault, for -which neither contemporaries nor posterity have forgiven him, was -infidelity to a dull, silly, uncleanly wife, whom he was compelled to -marry against his will, and who was nothing loth to pay him back in his -own coin. His next, that, like the Duke of Wellington and his brother -William, he was a lion among the ladies. George IV. is inclined to save -Fauntleroy from the scaffold, just as he wished to save all except the -murderer. - -Every effort fails, however, and on Wednesday night, after a meeting -of the Privy Council, the Recorder sends his report to Newgate. At -half-past six the Rev. Cotton, whose duty it is to break the news of -their fate to the prisoners, proceeds to Fauntleroy’s room. The banker, -who is reading, looks up as the Ordinary enters, and, observing that he -is deeply affected, “Ah, Mr Cotton, I see how it is,” he exclaims. “I -expected nothing less than death, and, thank God, I am resigned to my -fate.” During the rest of the day he seems more concerned for the doom -of Joseph Harwood--a lad of eighteen, condemned to die the next morning -for stealing half a crown from the pocket of a drunken Irishman--than -for his own dismal situation. Worn out with suspense, he does not awake -until a late hour on Thursday, and thus sleep spares him the anguish of -hearing the awful bell that is added to the torments of those who go to -the scaffold innocent of murder. - -On Friday, Miss Fox comes to bid him farewell, bringing with her, so -_The Times_ reports, “two lovely babes, both girls, of the ages of -eighteen months and three years, and both also in deep mourning.” -Another occasion, indeed, for the modern reader to exclaim--“Cruel, -like the grinding of human hearts under millstones.” One of that time -thinks so--Edmund Angelini, a crazy teacher of languages, who the same -day makes application to the Lord Mayor that he may be allowed to mount -the scaffold instead of Fauntleroy. - -On Saturday, the miserable wife pays her last visit. Previously she -has made a desperate attempt to reach implacable Peel--fainting in his -hall--which brings from the Home Secretary “a kind message.” Afterwards -she strives to speak with Lady Conyngham, who pleads inability to -assist, conscious, no doubt, that although she can mould divine right, -her charms are powerless against the incorruptible calico-printer. -Angelini, still filled with lust for the rope, but whose logic has made -no impression on the Lord Mayor, comes hammering at Newgate door, and -succeeds in gaining an interview with Ordinary Cotton, whom, perhaps, -he regards--judging by appearances--as Jack Ketch’s commanding officer. - -With the Sabbath comes gala-day and the ‘condemned sermon’ The partners -of Jaggers Harmer, by name Forbes and Mayhew, are humane enough to -sit with Fauntleroy in the ostentatious sable pew reserved for doomed -convicts, and the good Samaritans Baker and Springett, supporting their -charge with kind hands, take their seats with the dismal company. -Abductor Wakefield has left a graphic picture of an entertainment -similar to this. The rude, unsightly chapel, near akin in more than -appearance to the dissecting-room in Old Surgeons’ Hall, and with no -more semblance of holiness than the court at Bow Street, is packed -with prisoners, gay and careless sight-seers, the pomp of sheriffdom -and attendant lackeys. Hymns are bellowed, in hideous blasphemy, -beseeching divine mercy to show good example to the creatures it has -moulded in its own image. Prayers are mumbled, and heeded as little by -the gallows-gazing throng as the showman’s horn by children who pant -eagerly for the puppet-show. The hangman’s prologue--the sermon--is -what all desire, and everything else is of no account. At last the Rev. -Cotton, smug and resolute in white gown, mounts the lofty pulpit, and -the Sheriffs attempt to screw their courage to face the ordeal. The -Ordinary is in his finest form. On the previous Sunday he had shattered -the nerves of the boy Harwood, and had sent ‘a female’--condemned to -die for a paltry theft--into hysterics a fortnight ago. Scenes like -these make the condemned sermon attractive. To-day the discourse is -a stupid plagiarism of the Jacobite doctrine of passive resistance, -but the bank’s charter, and not divine right, is Cotton’s fetish. -While lauding the humanity of “the greatest commercial establishment -in the world,” he displays his want of accuracy and legal knowledge -by praising the directors for having replaced the stolen investments, -as they had not yet done, but were bound by law to do. “I deprecate -that feeling,” he declaims, “which is artfully and improperly excited -in favour of those who have no extraordinary claim to mercy. When -monstrous crimes have been committed we have a right to call for -judgment on criminals, and to consign them to the fate the law demands. -Offences are sometimes brought to light which require the most severe -chastisement the law can inflict, and discoveries of such a nature -have been made in reference to the unhappy individual to whom I shall -more particularly address myself,” etc., etc. Upon the limp, shrinking -figure in the large black pew, whose poor throbbing brain is pierced -through and through by the barbed words of the holy man, all eyes are -turned, save a few blinded with tears, or those wretches of both sexes -who testify by sobs and howls that a like fate is their portion. Even -in the leathern faces and soulless eyes of the grim turnkeys there -glimmers a tiny spark of emotion. It is pleasant to remember that -the Rev. Cotton, harmless and worthy gentleman in other respects, -received strong censure from those in authority for his eloquence at -the expense of Fauntleroy, and was accused of “harrowing the feelings -of the prisoner unnecessarily.” Still, it would have been wiser to have -attacked the system rather than the man. - -Less gruesome even than the loathsome chapel is the condemned cell on -the fatal night. All day the doomed banker has been calm and resigned, -bidding adieu to his brother and his son, and explaining to his -solicitors intricate details in the books of the bank. Late in the -evening Mr Wontner comes to visit him as usual, and tries to persuade -him to take something to eat, but the wretched man protests he ‘loathed -food’ For hours he continues to pace the room, leaning on the arm of Mr -Springett. Although he declares that he shall never sleep until after -that ‘awful moment’ about three o’clock he is induced to lie upon the -bed. The clergyman, who leaves the chamber for a few moments, finds -him, when he returns, sitting by the fire and greatly terrified. Early -in the morning he is able to accept a cup of tea and a biscuit. Before -six o’clock Baker has resumed his work of mercy, and a little later -conscientious Ordinary Cotton joins the sad company. Neat and precise -as ever, the forger has made as careful a toilet as if he was to attend -a social gathering, attired in a suit of black, with knee-breeches, -silk stockings and dress shoes, and a white handkerchief around his -neck. To Mr Baker he gives a few pounds to distribute among the needy -people in the prison, and leaves a ring for Mrs Harris, the wife of the -turnkey, to whom, and also to her husband, he gives thanks for their -kindness. - -Fauntleroy is spared a visit to the Press Yard, or to the adjacent -apartment, where the manacles of prisoners are knocked off previous to -the march to the scaffold. About 7.30 they conduct him to the ‘Upper -Condemned Room’ and here his favourite hymn is sung--“God moves in a -mysterious way”--and he partakes of the sacrament. From the numerous -conflicting reports it may be gathered that Sheriff Brown and his -ghastly train--for Alderman Key did not care to be present--attend -their victim at a quarter to eight. At the end of the long stone -chamber, dimly lighted by two candles, a small group is huddled before -the fire--the Rev. Cotton administering platitudes, Baker and Springett -on each side of the prisoner with their arms linked in his. Fauntleroy -is standing firmly in easy pose, although his senses seem benumbed -as if under the influence of a narcotic, and he bows slightly to the -Sheriff, who addresses him in a few kindly words. The Ordinary--clever -stage-manager--seizes the opportunity to draw the criminal a pace -or two apart, and the officers, taking the signal, come behind, and -commence to place their ropes around his arms. For a moment he seems -terrified, and like a hunted animal shrinks for refuge to his two -faithful friends, who gently place his hands across his breast, while -the attendants pinion his elbows with their cords. - -The clock of St Sepulchre--ominous name!--strikes the hour. With a -solemn inclination of his head towards the convict the Sheriff moves -forward, followed by the white-robed Cotton. Then comes the hapless -banker, supported by Baker and Springett. With tightly closed eyes and -mechanical steps, as though his nerves were dead and his senses steeped -in torpor, he moves almost as an automaton. Through the long vaulted -passages, where the tread of footsteps seem to beat a funeral march to -the grave, down cold, steep stairs and along damp, cavernous windings, -amidst a gloom made more fearful by the red glare of scanty lamps, the -procession crawls onward. As it reaches the gate of the long corridor -leading into the high, square lobby, from whence the Debtors’ Door -opens upon the street, the Ordinary commences the service for the -dead. At the sound of the harsh words the wretched sufferer starts, -and clasps and unclasps his hands. No other sign of emotion marks his -bearing; and even when the boom of the passing bell smites the startled -ears of his companions, and their footsteps, as though stayed, pause -for a moment involuntarily, he shows no sign of consciousness. - -Across the lofty stone hall, and under the gate of the slaughter-house, -the Sheriff and the Ordinary pass onward. There is a rush of chill, -moist air through the open door, the bare wooden stairs reverberate -with the tread of feet, and in another moment Fauntleroy, still -supported by his friends, is standing upon the platform in the open -street beneath the frowning wall of Old Bailey. Instantly every head -in the dense crowd is uncovered. Yet this is not a token of respect -for a dying man, but a time-honoured custom, so that the view of those -in the rear may not be obscured. With eyes still closed, and his face -turned towards Newgate Street, Fauntleroy moves under the cross-bar. -Physical exhaustion is fast conquering him, and the officials hasten -their task. In a moment the cap is slipped over his head, while Baker, -accustomed to these scenes, speaks to him in earnest prayer. The halter -is placed round his neck, and the loathly creature, whose expert hands -have finished pawing their victim, glides swiftly from the scaffold. -The Rev. Cotton continues to read from his book, but his eyes steal -sideways furtively, and he throws a glance of meaning upon the man who -has descended. An instant later, the Ordinary passes a handkerchief -across his lips. It is the signal! There is a crash of falling timber, -and to those in the street Fauntleroy appears to drop through the -platform as far as his knees, and hangs swaying from the strong black -beam which holds the cord that is gripping him by the throat. The -bowstring of the unspeakable Turk is a more artistic but not a more -cruel death. - -The performance was an immense success, for a more stupendous throng -had never gathered round the black walls of Newgate. Over one hundred -thousand persons were said to have witnessed the entertainment, and -reserved seats in the houses commanding a view of Debtors’ Door -had been booked far in advance. At the ‘King of Denmark’ in the -Old Bailey the sum of fourteen shillings was charged for a place; -while at Wingrave’s eating-house and at Luttman’s, which were -exactly opposite ‘the drop’ the price was as high as one pound. -“Many respectable-looking females,” says the _Morning Post_, “were -present at the windows, all attired in deep black.” A line of large -waggons, hackney-coaches and cabriolets, all of which reaped a rich -harvest, stretched from the corner of Giltspur Street and Newgate to -Skinner’s Street, Snowhill, and every housetop was overflowing with -holiday-makers. - -It was a bitterly cold morning, with icy rain-storms and a chill -mist, so the resolute thousands thoroughly deserved the enjoyment for -which they set at defiance all the ills of the flesh. Most careful -precautions were taken to avoid a repetition of the Haggerty-Holloway -tragedy, when the mob saved James Botting--that worthy soul whose -latter days were distressed by visions of ‘parties’ in nightcaps with -their heads on one side--an infinite deal of trouble by trampling -to death some fifty of its fellows. Six huge barriers stretched -across Newgate Street at the corner of the prison, and there were two -intermediate ones, to break the press, between that place and the -scaffold; more were erected at the Ludgate Hill termination of Old -Bailey, and within the barricade around the fatal platform were four -hundred constables. - -[Illustration: _CATNACH’S BROADSIDE OF FAUNTLEROY’S EXECUTION._] - -Sad to relate, the object-lesson was a failure in one instance, for -Henry Norman, a fine-looking lad of fifteen, was charged at the -Guildhall the next morning with picking a pocket, the owner of which -was gloating over the spectacle of the strangled banker. It speaks -highly for the integrity of our modern police force that, in these days -of exclusive hangings, a nimble-fingered Robert has never tried to -filch the watch of an impressionable Under-Sheriff. Or if he has, the -public has not heard of it. - -In these record-breaking times it is a common occurrence for a trusted -attorney to embezzle half a million pounds, but before the achievements -of Henry Fauntleroy all previous forgeries sink into insignificance. -Poor Dodd surrendered all he stole, and Wynne Ryland’s fraud was, in -its way, as artistic a performance as those of Thomas Chatterton, while -a brief career of crime--as in the case of Henry Savary of Bristol, who -was lucky enough to escape the gallows--ruined the brothers Perreau. -James Bolland and John Rouvelett were low-born fellows; and although -the public welcomed each as a first-class criminal, neither gained -the same prestige as a forger of gentle birth. In a small way, Henry -Cock, the lawyer, anticipated the Berners Street frauds, and two other -cases bear some resemblance. Henry Weston, a man of good family and -social position, who was hanged at the Old Bailey on the 6th of June -1796, disposed of stocks amounting to twenty-five thousand pounds in -a similar manner to Fauntleroy; and Joseph Blackburn, one of the most -respected of Leeds attorneys, who suffered a lingering death at York on -the 8th of April 1815, committed innumerable frauds for a great number -of years by transferring and altering the denominations of the old -familiar blue stamps. - -“Fauntleroy’s doom was so thoroughly recognised as well merited,” -writes Mr Thornbury, sternly, about forty years after the event, “that -although in 1832 every other kind of forger was exempted by law from -the gallows, the hands of the hangman still hovered over the forger of -wills and powers of attorney to transfer stock.” Yet, since the penalty -was never inflicted, this argument appears superfluous. - -Fauntleroy certainly is the prince of forgers, as truly as Jack -Sheppard is the greatest of prison-breakers and George Barrington the -finest genius among pickpockets. Although driven to crime in the first -instance by moral cowardice and craving for self-indulgence, he must -have possessed an almost Napoleonic confidence that his abilities would -conquer misfortune. Too proud to surrender the terrible struggle, he -refused to adopt the easy alternative of flight to France with his -ill-gotten gains. When one tries to realise the stupendous task of -manipulating figures of such magnitude for so many years, the brain -reels. The regular payment of huge dividends lest the victims should -become aware of their loss, the constant replacement of stock when -discovery seemed to threaten, the repeated buying and selling in -order to rob Peter to-day to pay Paul to-morrow, the daily juggling -with the books, and adjustment of balances, added to the incessant -vigilance lest the errors of a few figures should mean betrayal to -partners or clerks--all these wonderful transactions show an example -of mathematical legerdemain such as the world has seldom seen. When it -is borne in mind that the man was playing for nearly ten years with -sums amounting in the aggregate to half a million sterling, his title -to the incomparable forger of all time cannot be challenged. But like -many another who has contributed to the public amusement, his memory -soon faded from the minds of all save his creditors. Scarcely had the -curtain been rung down on the tragedy of Fauntleroy, when it rose again -upon the entrancing drama of accommodating Miss Foote and wayward Mr -‘Pea-green’ Hayne. - -Occasionally, but not often, we hear mention of the banker’s name, and -there was a recent reference to it in one of the delightful novels of -Anthony Hope. - -“It is no longer a capital offence,” declares ribald Arty Kane, -referring to forgery, and addressing charming Peggy Ryle; “you won’t be -hanged in silk knee-breeches like Mr Fauntleroy.” - - -_Part II.--Some Details of the Forgeries._ - -[Sidenote: The Berners Street bankruptcy.] - -No complete balance-sheet of the Marsh-Stracey bankruptcy appears -to exist. The books of the firm seem to have baffled both the -Commissioners and the assignees; and so artfully had Fauntleroy -concealed his frauds, that even skilled accountants did not succeed -in unravelling the whole of their mysteries. Contemporary newspapers -furnish many important clues, but their statements, when not -conflicting, are neither lucid nor exhaustive. Yet, although many -details must remain obscure, it is possible to form a rough conception -of the result. - -[Sidenote: The position of the bankrupts.] - -Since we know that the first dividend of 3s. 4d. in the pound -(distributed to the creditors on the 7th of February 1825) absorbed -a sum of £92,486, it is clear that Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company -required a grand total of £554,916 to pay twenty shillings in the -pound. Practically these figures are substantiated by the preliminary -accounts presented at the meeting of the Commissioners on the 18th of -December 1824, which state that the claims against the firm--excluding -any liability to the Bank of England--amount to £554,148. - -This estimate, however, is the only one of any accuracy made at the -time, for the assets expected to be realised fell very short of the -original calculation. A second dividend of 3s. 4d. was received by -the creditors on the 30th of August 1825, and between that date and -the appointment of the official assignee a further sum of £46,243 was -distributed. Thus the total of the first three dividends--which were -equivalent to 8s. 4d. in the pound--amounts to £231,215. - -The bankruptcy return of Patrick Johnson (official assignee), published -in 1839, shows that assets were collected subsequently amounting to -£160,930, and thus the creditor side of the Berners Street ledger -appears to have reached a total of £392,150. - -From this balance of £160,930--realised by the official assignee after -the payment of the first three dividends--further distributions of 5d. -and 1s. (being 9s. 9d. in the pound in all) were made respectively on -the 23rd of December 1833 and the 9th of September 1835, and absorbed -further sums of £11,560, 15s. and £27,745, 16s. - -During September 1835 the claim of the Bank of England against Messrs -Marsh, Stracey & Company was compromised for a payment of £95,000 -in cash; and a further sum of £11,000 for the expenses of working -the Commission of Bankruptcy from the 16th of September 1824 to the -end of the year 1833 must also be deducted. Therefore a balance of -£15,628--less any further costs--appears to have remained for payment -of a final dividend. Although many of the newspapers state that this -was made on the 7th of October 1837, unfortunately none of them give -any particulars. Yet it may be conjectured that the unfortunate -customers of the Berners Street Bank, after waiting for thirteen years, -could not have received more than 10s. 6d. in the pound. - -The following rough balance-sheet will explain the above account:-- - - _Dr._ _Cr._ - First div. 3s. 4d., Feb. 7, First div., £92,486 0 - 1825, £92,486 0 Second div., 92,486 0 - Second div. 3s. 4d., Aug. Third div., 46,243 0 - 30, 1825, 92,486 0 Received by the official - Third div. 1s. 8d., (paid assignee at 84 Basinghall - before Dec. 28, 1832), 46,243 0 Street from Dec. 28, - Fourth div. 5d., Dec. 23, 1832, to Oct 7, 1837, 160,930 0 - 1833, 11,560 15 / - Fifth div. 1s., Sept. 9, / - 1835, 27,745 16 / - Bank of England, Sept. / - 1835, 95,000 0 / - Expenses of Administration / - up to Dec. 24, 1833, 11,000 0 / - Balance (including all costs / - from Dec. 24, 1833, to / - Oct. 7, 1837, and out of / - which the final dividend / - was made on Oct. 7, / - 1837,) 15,628 9 / - ----------- ----------------------- - £392,150 0 £392,150 0 - ----------- ----------- - -[Sidenote: The private estates of the partners.] - -The private estates of Messrs Stracey and Graham paid twenty shillings -in the pound before the end of 1833; and upon that of Mr Marsh, the -senior partner, who appears to have been indebted to the firm for a -loan of £73,000, excluding his overdraft on his private account, a -distribution of 17s. 6d. had been made before 1834. Little was received -on Fauntleroy’s estate, as it was claimed almost entirely by the -creditors of the Berners Street Bank. - -[Sidenote: Losses under Fauntleroy’s management.] - -It is now possible to form an estimate of the extent to which Messrs -Marsh, Stracey & Company were defaulters, and what were the losses -under the Fauntleroy régime. The total receipts set against the claims -of the creditors and the money stolen from the Bank of England, show a -deficiency of £522,980. Thus:-- - - _Dr._ _Cr._ - Claims of the creditors (to pay Total receipts £392,150 - 20s. in the £) £554,916 Deficiency 522,980 - Gross loss of the Bank 360,214 - -------- -------- - £915,130 £915,130 - -------- -------- - -[Sidenote: How the losses were incurred.] - -Although it would be difficult, with any degree of accuracy, to -apportion under the separate charges this adverse balance of over -half a million pounds, and although much must be left to conjecture, -it is possible to explain some of the ways in which this vast sum was -dissipated. At the outset, the suggestion--arising out of one of the -pleas of Fauntleroy, and believed at the time--that the overdraft -on loans to two of the partners was responsible for a deficit of -£100,000, is refuted by the fact that both Messrs Marsh and Graham -refunded eventually their obligations to the full extent. In like -manner, the belief that large sums were lost owing to the necessity of -reinvesting constantly the various stocks sold by Fauntleroy in order -to avoid detection, overlooks the fact that, on the other hand, these -transactions must have afforded similar opportunities for making a -profit. It is probable that many such losses did occur; but since we -may believe that the Berners Street Bank prior to the forgeries was -earning an income of £7000 a year, it is likely that such an astute -manager as Henry Fauntleroy would be able to cancel many of these -losses through reinvestment by the profits he earned on the immense -capital he had secretly appropriated. - -[Sidenote: (_a_) Loss of £160,000 in building speculations.] - -[Sidenote: (_b_) £90,000 lost by paying dividends on the stolen stocks.] - -Although the forger’s estimate of the result of his building -speculations is extravagant, the newspapers of the 20th of December -1824 make it clear that the Berners Street house must have lost in this -manner £160,000. It is certain also that immense sums were absorbed -by the payment of dividends to the proprietors whose stocks had been -stolen. Nearly £7000 per annum must have been required for this -purpose from the year 1816, and the sum would accumulate at compound -interest, until, as some say, an annual fund of £16,000 was required. -Setting aside all excessive calculations, we have the great authority -of the historian of the Bank of England that £9000 to £10,000 a year -was thus expended during the progress of the forgeries. Further than -this, notwithstanding that the partners in the bankrupt firm were -not entitled to any fraction of profit, the testimony of almost the -entire press credits each of them with receiving an income of over -£3000. At the examination of William Marsh, reported in the newspapers -of the 1st of March 1825, it was proved that he was indebted on his -private account for an overdraft of £26,000. As there is no reason to -believe that Mr Stracey or Mr Graham had enjoyed a smaller income, a -further deficit of nearly £80,000 is the result. And finally, as will -be shown, there is an overwhelming weight of evidence to prove that -the iniquitous Henry Fauntleroy, during the nineteen years he was a -partner, dissipated at least £100,000. In addition, the repayment of -the capital of Sir James Sibbald (who died the 17th of September 1819), -which formed a large portion of £64,000--the capital of the firm in -1814--would swell the adverse balance still further. Leaving this -out of the question, the facts stated above explain the deficit of -£430,000; and with the material at our disposal any further solution -would involve a more elaborate use of the methods of conjecture. - -[Sidenote: (_c_) Loss of £80,000 through payments to Messrs Marsh, -Stracey & Graham.] - -[Sidenote: (_d_) Fauntleroy spent £100,000.] - -[Sidenote: To what extent did Fauntleroy participate in the proceeds of -his forgeries?] - -When Fauntleroy made his famous declaration from the dock, he was -endeavouring to refute the extravagant assertion that he had spent a -sum of over four hundred thousand pounds in riotous living; and thus, -led to the opposite extreme, he made the mistake of attempting to -convey an erroneous impression of his frugality. Thus the statement -that he had never enjoyed any advantage beyond that in which all his -partners had participated seems to hint economy; but as Mr Marsh had -overdrawn his loan account by £70,000, the proposition is irrelevant -to the argument. Then, again, he confesses that the Brighton villa -cost £400, but he is not candid enough to admit the expenses of his -other establishments. The stern reality--that a thief cannot justify -the expenditure of one pennyworth of stolen property--never entered -his mind. Utterly false, however, is his answer to the charges of -profligacy--outrageous though they were. - -“It has been cruelly asserted,” he declares, “that I fraudulently -invested money in the Funds to answer the payment of annuities -amounting to £2200 settled upon females. I never did make such -investment.” - -No single tenet in Father Garnet’s doctrine of equivocation -puts greater stress upon the truth. Whoever made the necessary -investments--and the forger was shrewd enough not to let the -transaction appear in his own name--there is certain evidence that -he provided lavishly for his mistress Maria Fox. The lie is merely -concealed in subtle language. - -“Neither at home nor abroad,” continues Fauntleroy, “have I any -investment, nor is there one shilling secretly deposited by me in the -hands of any human being.” - -Such an assertion goes far beyond the sophistry of the most misguided -seventeenth-century Jesuit, for the Commissioners of Bankruptcy were -soon to discover that he had squandered thousands on his friend Mrs -Disney. His one denial in unequivocal terms is a deliberate falsehood. - -“Equally ungenerous and untrue it is,” the forger proceeds, “to charge -me with having lent to loose and disorderly persons large sums of money -which never have and never will be repaid. I lent no sums but to a very -trifling amount, and those were advanced to valued friends.” - -No doubt this last declaration had reference to the rumour that he had -squandered money upon the notorious Mary Ann Kent, ‘Mother Bang’--who -figures as ‘Corinthian Kate’ in _Life in London_--and its truth or -falsehood must depend upon the exact definition of the term ‘large -sums’ The criminal who had dealings with huge balance-sheets, naturally -had a magnificent sense of proportion. - -[Sidenote: Fauntleroy’s expenditure.] - -Fortunately, there is evidence of some of the ‘prodigal extravagance’ -that was laid at his door. The total loss of the Bank of England owing -to the forgeries was £360,214, and the original claim of the directors -against the Berners Street establishment was £250,000. So it seems that -the balance was believed to have been spent wholly by Fauntleroy, and -not placed to the credit of the partnership. The sworn testimony of Mr -Wilkinson, an accountant employed by the assignees to examine the books -of the bankrupts--although inclined to favour Messrs Marsh, Stracey & -Company--supports this assumption in the most decisive manner. Thus, in -spite of his defence, it would appear that during his management the -forger appropriated for himself a sum of over £100,000. These figures, -moreover, are endorsed by the fair-minded James Scarlett, who made the -same statement as Wilkinson in his speech for the defendants in the -case of Stone and Others _v._ Marsh, Stracey & Company, which was heard -on the 2nd of March 1826. To disregard such unanimous testimony is -impossible. - -[Sidenote: How did Fauntleroy spend the money?] - -[Sidenote: (_a_) Domestic expenditure £2000 a year.] - -It is quite credible that for a period of seventeen years (from 1807 -to 1824) a man of Fauntleroy’s habits should expend an average income -of £5000. Had each of his three establishments--in Berners Street, in -Brighton, and at Lambeth--cost him as much as his moderate estimate of -one--and none of them could have been less expensive--the total reaches -£1200 a year. In addition to this, it is known that he allowed an -annuity of £400 to his wife. Thus, as he kept horses and carriages both -at London and the seaside, his lowest annual domestic expenditure must -have been at least £2000, or £34,000 over the period. Although the -house at Fulham was one of his later extravagances, there were others -that had taken its place previously. - -[Sidenote: (_b_) Freehold property £10,000.] - -The villa, land and furniture at Brighton, sold after his death, -realised nearly £7000--the residence alone is said to have cost him -this amount; and since he was the owner of a mews and six houses in -Bryanston Square, and two other houses in York Street, his freehold -property, on a moderate estimate, must have been worth £10,000. - -[Sidenote: (_c_) Maria Fox £10,000.] - -From the reports of the trial of Maria Fox at the Lewes Assizes in -April 1827, we gather that Fauntleroy settled on his youthful mistress -£6000, besides an annuity of £150, “of which the assignees,” said John -Adolphus, her counsel, “through the advice of a worthy gentleman, Mr -Bolland, were not so cruel as to deprive her.” Thus another £10,000 is -added to the banker’s debt. - -[Sidenote: (_d_) Mrs J. C. Disney, £10,000.] - -During the month of December 1824 the London papers are full of -insinuations with regard to Fauntleroy’s improper connection with a Mrs -James C. Disney, and the letter from the lady’s husband, which appeared -in the _New Times_ on the 24th of December, substantiates unwittingly -much of the truth of the story. It is certain that the creditors of -Marsh, Stracey & Company recovered large sums from this Mrs Disney, who -had been the recipient of Fauntleroy’s bounty to an extent exceeding -the limits of platonic love, and according to _The Times_ the amount -refunded was £10,000. Although many reports state that she received -twice this sum, it is sufficient for the purpose to accept the lesser -figures. - -Thus there is almost complete evidence that Fauntleroy’s expenditure -under three heads--domestic expenses, freehold property, and the two -mistresses above mentioned--absorbed a sum of £64,000. It is not -unreasonable to suppose that the man who could squander this money in -less than seventeen years, while his firm was in so dire a plight, -was capable of spending double the amount. It is improbable that his -various establishments cost him no more than £2000 a year; and if -_The Times_ of the 1st of December is to be believed, he confessed -that he had enjoyed a very much larger income. The age of pinks and -bloods was as extravagant as our own, and many luxuries of life were -more expensive. Fauntleroy was a patron of ‘Corinthian Kate’; and if -Pierce Egan is an authority, we may conjecture--in spite of her denial -to Joseph Parkins--that the unfortunate banker found her an expensive -luxury. Like the great man whom he took a pride in fancying he -resembled, it is notorious that the forger had a weakness for what his -contemporaries termed ‘ladybirds’ and was in this respect a dissipated -and worthless fellow. Moreover, he was celebrated for his costly -dinners and rare wines--there is the grisly story of the friend who -urged him as a last request to tell where he purchased his exquisite -curaçoa--and he seems to have denied himself no luxury. Although it is -not possible to give a complete explanation of Fauntleroy’s expenditure -during the years of his race to ruin, it is satisfactory to know some -portion of the details, and they show, through all possible coats of -whitewash, that he was guilty of the most prodigal extravagance. - -[Sidenote: The conduct of the partners.] - -Since the partners of the Berners Street Bank were censured for gross -negligence in two courts of law, it is not surprising that their -creditors should have treated them with intolerance. At first the -public had regarded them as unfortunate dupes, and it was not until -Fauntleroy had made his defence that a popular outcry arose. It seemed -incredible that three men of the world should have thrown the heavy -burden of managing a firm, weighed down by embarrassments, upon the -shoulders of a youth of twenty-two, and equally preposterous that, in -the face of losses reaching into hundreds of thousands, the young -man’s colleagues should have remained easy, trusting, asleep. Yet, in -spite of the onslaught of the London press, and the clamour of the -noisy creditors, headed by Joseph Parkins and his fellows, beneath -the roof of the ‘Boar and Castle’ and the ‘Freemasons’ Tavern,’ it -is certain that Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Graham were innocent of all -guilty complicity in their partner’s frauds. The statements that had -aroused the storm against them proved to be baseless or exaggerated. It -has been shown that the Berners Street Bank did not lose £270,000 in -building speculations between 1810 and 1816, as Fauntleroy suggested, -and to meet the loss that did occur a large sum was raised by the -supporters of the firm, to which William Marsh contributed £40,000. -Thus, considering the reticence of their manager, there was good reason -why the partners should believe that they had weathered the financial -panic which brought to ruin so many of their contemporaries. - -Modern commerce estimates more accurately the value of youth than the -age of Mr Walter the Second; and as young Fauntleroy, who was one of -the smartest bank managers in London, accepted his responsibilities -with zest and cheerfulness, it is not surprising that he became the -autocrat of the firm. Moreover, the juggler who could deceive the -clerks working at his elbow day by day would have no difficulty in -satisfying the periodical curiosity of sleeping-partners. Fat profits -rolled into their coffers, and, like many another good easy man, they -did not pause to look a gift horse in the mouth. Fools they were, and -must remain, but in the end the world ceased to suspect their honour. - -Still, their credulity was remarkable. All three of them appear to have -been the instruments of most of the frauds, attending at the Bank of -England to make the transfer under the forged powers of attorney, and -instructing brokers to dispose of the stolen stocks and bonds. In one -particular, however, the conduct of Marsh and Stracey appeared dubious. -On the day of Fauntleroy’s arrest the daughter of the former cashed -a cheque for £5000, while the latter drew out over £4000 in the name -of his father. The trick was discovered, and restitution made to the -creditors. - -[Sidenote: The Bank of England’s claim.] - -As might be supposed, the Bank of England received little sympathy -either from the press or from the people. The directors never disputed -their obligation--as managers of the public debt--to refund to the -rightful proprietors the whole of the stocks that had been stolen, -but they made every effort to enforce their claim against the Berners -Street firm--amounting to a quarter of a million--which they contended -that Fauntleroy had placed to the credit of his house. It was soon made -clear by law that Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company were responsible to -the stockholders, who had been defrauded by their managing partner, -and thus were equally responsible to the Bank, whose debt was similar -to that of the stockholders. The chief obstacle to the enforcement of -the Bank’s claim lay in the fact that the proprietors of the stolen -stocks were clients, and, as a natural consequence, creditors also -of Marsh, Stracey & Company. Being aware that the directors were -legally compelled to replace their missing Consols and Exchequer -Bills, they raised a great clamour against the claim of the Bank, for -naturally they perceived that if it was enforced the cash balances in -their Berners Street pass-books would be diminished. This difficulty -compelled the Bank to seek the consent of the Courts to permit them -to claim from the bankrupts the lump sum that had been restored to -the stockholders, so that it would not be necessary to bring forward -reluctant persons to prove each separate debt. Lord Chancellor -Lyndhurst ruled, however, that each transaction must be established to -the satisfaction of the Commissioners of Bankruptcy in the usual way, -and thus the Bank was driven to depend upon the stockholders. Since the -claim of half a million was compromised for a payment of £95,000, we -may conclude that the majority of the Berners Street creditors were not -disposed to assist the rival claimant to a share of their dividends. - -[Sidenote: The transfer of stock.] - -Much has been written of the lax methods of transferring stock in -vogue at the Bank of England. As the frauds were so slovenly that -Fauntleroy’s clerks had no difficulty in detecting their employer’s -handwriting in the signature attached to the forged power of attorney -produced at the trial, it is plain that the crimes could not have -continued for so many years unless a most careless system had -prevailed. The Berners Street swindle showed that it was possible -for any applicant with whom the clerks at the Consols Office were -acquainted to complete the transfer of another person’s securities, -provided only that he possessed a knowledge of the exact value of the -particular stock he wished to appropriate. A power of attorney seems -to have been as readily acted upon as obtained, and no comparison of -the real owner’s signature appears to have been made. This danger was -pointed out subsequently at a meeting of the Court of Proprietors, and -a shareholder made the wise suggestion that when any transfer was made -immediate notice should be sent to the proprietor of the stock. - -Yet checks and precautions did exist at the Bank of England in the days -of Henry Fauntleroy. The purchasers of securities were recommended -to protect themselves from fraud by accepting themselves--that is to -say, by signing--all transfers of stock made to them, thus giving the -officials of the Bank the opportunity of comparing the handwriting of -the proprietor whenever necessary. Still, the investing public rarely -complied with this regulation, and Fauntleroy must have been aware -that there was no danger of detection on this account. - -Although forgery of such a description is more difficult in these days, -yet prudence should neglect no safeguard that does not impede the -business of everyday life. A signature, however much resemblance it -has to its original, may still be a forgery, and personal attendance -might be simulated by a bold and plausible scoundrel. The most sure -precaution is the one suggested on the 17th of September 1824 by the -nameless proprietor, that whenever a transfer is lodged immediate -notice shall be sent to the holder of the stock. - - - - -FAUNTLEROY AND THE NEWSPAPERS - - -1. _The Morning Chronicle._ - - Under the leadership of the famous John Black, this paper had - become a somewhat fat and stodgy production, savouring of the - ‘unco guid’ It is fierce in its attacks upon Fauntleroy’s - partners for their indolence and carelessness, and pleads that - mercy shall be shown to the offender. Special prominence is - given to the pious conversations alleged to have taken place - in Newgate between the prisoner and his spiritual advisers - Messrs Springett and Baker. Since this paper is not hostile - to Fauntleroy, it is strange that it should publish (November - 11) a vile communication from his enemy J. W. Parkins, an - ex-Sheriff of London, in which the writer tries to show that - the prisoner who is awaiting his trial has been a brutal - husband. The first announcement that the Bank in Berners Street - had suspended payment appears in the columns of the _Chronicle_ - on Monday, September 13. - -2. _The Morning Post._ - - Although the _Morning Post_ makes a point of pluming itself - on its humanity towards Fauntleroy, its attitude is wholly - inconsistent and double-faced. Having copied from _The Times_ a - column of disgraceful news concerning the private vices of the - dishonest banker, it turns round and upbraids its contemporary, - a few weeks later, for supplying the information. Foolish - letters upon all kinds of subjects from Fauntleroy’s bitter - enemy, J. W. Parkins--Sheriff of London 1819-20--disfigure - this paper constantly. The _Post_ gloats over the scene at the - Debtors’ Door, and is glad that there was no pardon. - -3. _The Morning Herald._ - - This journal is opposed to the death penalty for forgery, and - inserts several letters, urging that the convict should be - reprieved, but it admits, after the execution, that while the - law remained unaltered there were no special circumstances in - the case to warrant mercy. The report of the trial on November - 1, which holds up to ridicule the absurd and indecorous conduct - of ex-Sheriff Parkins previous to the meeting of the Court, - furnishes a striking proof of his malice against his former - friend Henry Fauntleroy. During April 1823 the notorious - Parkins made a somewhat feeble attempt to assault Mr Thwaites - of the _Morning Herald_ in his office, which is the reason, no - doubt, why the editor handles him so roughly. - -4. _The Times._ - - The attitude of the greatest paper in the world towards the - unfortunate banker is a black record in its history. Although - the man was a sensualist and a forger of the highest degree, - it is not creditable to British journalism of those days that - a leading newspaper should take infinite pains to rake up - every scandal of his past life, and to prejudice the public - mind against him before he was brought to trial. A more - deliberate attempt to condemn a man unheard has never been - made in the press. It is amazing that an editor of the calibre - of Thomas Barnes should have printed the article of September - 24 and the disgraceful letter signed “T.” of September 25, - which compares Fauntleroy to Thurtell, the cut-throat. The - reproof administered by James Harmer on September 27, although - fully deserved, was not sufficient to restrain the licence of - Mr Walter’s reporters. _The Times_ proceeds to wrangle with - the _Brighton Gazette_ as to whether the banker had been a - libertine, and on October 9 publishes a statement about his - lenient treatment at Coldbath Fields prison, for which it - is compelled to apologise to Mr Vickery, the Governor. More - innuendoes follow concerning Fauntleroy’s moral character, - and on October 19 (before his trial!) it is reported that the - printers at the ‘One Tun’ tavern in Covent Garden were making - bets as to whether he would be hanged. - - Almost as repulsive are the leaders written after the culprit’s - execution. “If forgery had not been capital before,” says this - truculent journal, “the most humane legislators would have - doubted whether, if carried to a similar extent, it should - not be rendered capital in future.” Yet Samuel Romilly had - been in his grave only six years, and James Mackintosh and - William Ewart were left to continue his brave work. Finally, - on December 4, comes a blast of thunder that Dennis or the - editor of the _Eatanswill Gazette_ might have envied. “We are - not anxious to extend the narrative of Mr Fauntleroy’s life - by a description of his personal habits, but, if provoked, we - can lay before the public such a detail of low and disgusting - sensuality, as would appear incredible to those who were not - as degraded in body and mind as he was. This narrative would - involve persons who hold themselves rather high, and who have - presumed to talk big with reference to our accounts of their - wretched friend and associate. Let them be quiet; if we find - that in public or private (and we have channels of information - they dream not of) they have the impudence to disparage our - motives or deny our statements, we will hold up their names and - actions to public scorn and astonishment and disgust.” - -5. _The Morning Advertiser._ - - This journal, then as now the organ of the licensed - victuallers, is hostile to Fauntleroy, but moderate in the - reports it publishes about him. - -6. _The New Times._ - - As might be expected, this paper deals some nasty raps at - that from which its editor seceded. It is very critical of - the conduct of Fauntleroy’s partners, with whose explanations - before the Commissioners of Bankruptcy it is dissatisfied, but - does not make the reckless charges against them that appear - in some journals, such as the _Sunday Times_ and _Morning - Chronicle_. - -7. _The British Press._ - - Gives more complete information than any other paper of - the details of Marsh, Stracey & Company’s bankruptcy. The - reports of the proceedings before the Court of Commissioners, - and of the meetings of the Berners Street creditors, which - are criticised at large, throw much light upon the endless - ramifications of the Fauntleroy forgeries. This journal alone - makes an attempt to ascertain whether the statement of the - criminal banker was endorsed by the books of his firm. “I - declare,” says Fauntleroy in his defence, “that all the monies - temporarily raised by me were applied, not in one single - instance for my own separate purposes or expenses, but in - every case they were immediately placed to the credit of the - house in Berners Street, and applied to the payments of the - pressing demands upon it.... The books will confirm the truth - of my statement ... the whole went to the general funds of the - house.” - - The value of this assertion may be tested by reference - to the columns of the _British Press_ of the following - dates:--September 20, 29, October 6, November 13, 15, 17, 22, - 23, 30, December 10, 13, 17, 20, 28 (1824), January 17, 19, 20, - February 2, March 1, 19, April 11, July 25, August 31 (1825). - - For further particulars of the bankruptcy consult _The Times_, - _Morning Post_, and _Morning Chronicle_ of December 24, 1833; - and September 10 and 11, 1835. Also _John Bull_, September - 20, 1835; the _Weekly Dispatch_, September 17, 1837; and _The - Times_, October 7, 1837. - -8. _The Examiner._ - - The statements in Fauntleroy’s defence are received with - incredulity. “From what we hear and observe of the man,” says - the _Examiner_, in a leading article, “we do not believe he - would have risked his life to preserve a trading concern of - which he had only a fourth share. We expect the truth will - be that he began to forge to get money for himself, and was - obliged to go on because bankruptcy would have led to his - detection.” The leader proceeds to condemn the law of banking, - and to attack the monopoly of the Bank. - -9. _The Observer._ - - The veteran Sunday journal--which at this period was the - property of Wm. Clement, who owned also the _Morning - Chronicle_, and afterwards _Bell’s Life_--takes the bulk of its - reports, like most of the weekly papers, from the columns of - the daily press. - -10. _The Sunday Times._ - - This hardy newspaper (which age cannot wither) condemns the - criminal code that makes forgery a capital offence, and charges - Messrs Marsh, Stracey and Graham with previous knowledge of - their partner’s guilt. On October 10 appeared the famous letter - from malignant ex-Sheriff Parkins, complaining that Fauntleroy - or his partners had surrendered certain private documents which - he had left at their bank in safe custody. In those days the - _Sunday Times_ was under the proprietorship of its founder, - Daniel Harvey. - -11. _The Englishman._ - - A weekly paper, containing reports similar to those in the - _Observer_. - -12. _Bell’s Weekly Messenger._ - - The leading article of December 5 expresses the hope that Mr - Fauntleroy will be the last person executed for forgery. As - a matter of fact the Berners Street frauds postponed this - much-desired reform, and the illogical argument of George III. - was revived in another shape--“If Dr. Dodd is pardoned, then - the Perreaus have been murdered.” Captain John Montgomery would - have been hanged on July 4, 1828, for forging bank notes, had - he not cheated the gallows by the aid of prussic acid; Joseph - Hunton, the Quaker, suffered death at Newgate on December 8 - following, for issuing counterfeit bills of exchange; and - Thomas Maynard, who had obtained money from the Custom House - under a fraudulent warrant, was executed in the same place on - the last day of the year 1829. After this date, although the - capital penalty was not finally abolished until 1837, no other - person was hanged for forgery in this country. - -13. _Bell’s Weekly Dispatch._ - - This newspaper, founded in 1801--five years after his _Weekly - Messenger_--by John Bell, the printer of the _British Poets_, - had now become the property of James Harmer the Old Bailey - attorney, who was Fauntleroy’s solicitor. The scathing attacks - upon Joseph Wilfred Parkins, which appear in this journal on - October 3, October 10 and November 14, explain the reason - of the ‘XXX Sheriff’s’ animosity towards the unfortunate - banker. Some time before the arrest of the forger, Parkins, - who had a law-suit pending, requested Fauntleroy to return a - certain cheque for £6000 that he had drawn upon his firm a - few years previously. The reply was that, as it could not be - found, probably it had been destroyed. On the strength of this - statement, Parkins swore in the witness-box on September 13, - when his action was being tried, that the cheque in dispute had - never been presented, but to his amazement and consternation - the missing piece of paper was produced in Court. In - consequence, he not only lost his case, but was called upon to - stand his trial for perjury on December 20 following. By some - means or other wily James Harmer, who happened to be solicitor - for the defendants against whom Parkins was bringing his - action, had discovered the cheque at the Berners Street Bank - soon after Fauntleroy’s arrest, and perceiving its importance - to his clients, had appropriated it. Naturally, this amusing - piece of strategy was not relished by the choleric ex-Sheriff, - who cast most of the blame upon the shoulders of the unhappy - banker, and pursued him to the death without mercy. - - The _Weekly Dispatch_ made a great effort to save the doomed - man, and the petition for reprieve which lay at its office - received three thousand signatures. The Rev. Cotton, Ordinary - of Newgate, comes in for some well-deserved censure for the - tone of his ‘Condemned Sermon’ - -14. _Pierce Egan’s Life in London._ - - This paper, started February 1, 1824, by the creator of _Tom - and Jerry_, gives extracts, copies for the most part from other - sources, and similar information to that contained in Pierce - Egan’s account. - -15. _John Bull._ - - Naturally, Theodore Hook’s paper did not miss the opportunity - of inveighing against _The Times_ for its cruelty towards - Fauntleroy, or of ridiculing the sanctimonious articles of the - _Morning Chronicle_. Still, it is unjust to Mrs Fry’s friend - and helper, the humane Mr Baker, whose work among the prisoners - at Newgate merits the highest praise. - -16. _The Globe and Traveller._ - - Condemns the ‘mischievous law’ passed in 1708 to support the - Bank of England’s monopoly, which prevented a private banking - establishment from being controlled by more than six partners. - The journal contends with truth that this legislation “forces - a business of great responsibility, which should be of entire - security, into the hands of small firms.” The law of 1825 - altered all this. - -17. _The Courier._ - - Has a weakness for drawing attention to its own propriety, in - comparison with that of its contemporaries. Its leader on the - evening of the execution declares that, although it refrained - from comment while there was a chance of mercy, it applauds - the firmness of justice in refusing a reprieve when there was - nothing in Fauntleroy’s case to merit such interference. The - _Courier_ was in the hands of Daniel Stuart--a great name in - journalism--who was proprietor also of the _Morning Post_. - -18. _The Sun._ - - A somewhat feeble paper, though well printed and arranged, - edited by John Taylor. It prides itself on never printing - anything about Fauntleroy except the proceedings before the - magistrates. - -19. _The Brighton Gazette._ - - Cudgels _The Times_ lustily, and is indignant that a mere - London paper should presume to know more about Mr Fauntleroy’s - seaside residence than a journal published in Brighton. About - two years later the _Gazette_ has much to say about the - beautiful Maria Fox (_alias_ Forbes, _alias_ Forrest, _alias_ - Rose), who had lived under the protection of the fraudulent - banker. A retired lawyer named Barrow, who resided next door to - the lady on the New Stein, accused her of keeping a disorderly - house, and she was called upon to meet this charge at the Lewes - Assizes. Although the fine advocacy of John Adolphus obtained - a verdict of not guilty, the judge went out of his way to - compliment the author of the prosecution. (_Vide_ the _Brighton - Gazette_, April 5, 1827; also September 14 and 21, 1826.) - -20. _The Rambler’s Magazine, or Frolicsome Companion._ Printed and -published by William Dugdale, 23 Russell Court, Drury Lane. April 1, -1827, pp. 180-182 (_vide_ Trial of Maria Fox). - - The learned ‘Pisanus Fraxi’--H. S. Ashbee--whose knowledge of - this class of literature is unrivalled, gives no description - of this particular publication. It may be a plagiarism of - a magazine of about the same date, and bearing an almost - similar title (which it appears to resemble), noticed in - _Catena Librorum Tacendorum_, p. 327. Periodicals of this name - are almost as numerous, between the years 1782-1829, as the - _Newgate Calendars_. The _Rambler’s Magazine_ makes two things - evident: first, that Fauntleroy’s _chère amie_ was a “fair and - engaging woman”; and secondly, that Mr Barrow had much cause of - complaint. - -21. _The Gentleman’s Magazine_, November 1824 (part ii. p. 461); -December 1824 (part ii. p. 580). - - In the December number there is a trenchant letter from the - Earl of Normanton, condemning the criminal code. “Philosophy - would deem it an abuse,” says he, “to punish the crime of a - Fauntleroy in the same manner as the crime of a Thurtell.” For - the obituary notice of William Moore Fauntleroy, the brother of - the forger, see the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, part ii. p. 1092, - 1803. - - -NOTES ON THE FAUNTLEROY CASE - -NOTE I.--_Pierce Egan’s Account of the Trial of H. Fauntleroy._ Knight -and Lacey, 1824. - - No one excelled the historian of the Prize Ring in this style - of literature, and his two other similar works, the _Life of - Samuel Denmore Hayward_ (1822), and the _Account of the Trial - of John Thurtell_ (1824), will remain text-books for all time. - Pierce Egan makes a note (p. 21) that Mr. Fauntleroy has never - used a ‘slang expression’ during his imprisonment. The surprise - indicated by this comment is natural, for, robbed of his - italics, the author of _Life in London_ would have been left as - naked to his enemies as Cardinal Wolsey. - -NOTE II.--_The Newgate Calendar._ Knapp and Baldwin (1824-28). Vol. iv. -pp. 285-390. - - Accepting the statement made by most of the daily newspapers, - this account declares that Fauntleroy was hanged for defrauding - his wife’s family. Although this statement was made by _The - Times_ on October 2, it was denied two days later in that - paper, and the contradiction was published also in _Bell’s - Weekly Messenger_, the _Globe_, and the _Courier_. Again, on - December 4 _The Times_ repeats once more that “Miss Frances - Young is no relation to Mrs Fauntleroy.” Considering the - bitter rivalry that existed between the various newspapers, - and the jealous criticism that each journal bestowed upon the - information of its contemporaries, it is certain that if the - assertion made by _The Times_ had been untrue--and if false it - could have been disproved easily--its rivals would have exposed - it with the greatest joy. Moreover, since Fauntleroy might - have been charged with twenty other indictments, the public - mind would have been shocked had his sister-in-law alone been - selected as the instrument of vengeance. - -NOTE III.--_The Anatomy of Sleep._ Edward Binns, M.D. Churchill (1842). -p. 282. - - Although such an escape was a physical impossibility to - Fauntleroy, there is a rational explanation of the strange - superstition--referred to in this book--that he did not die - on the scaffold, but was resuscitated, and lived abroad for - many years. At eight o’clock on the evening of his death the - body was taken by the undertakers, Gale and Barnard, to their - premises opposite Newgate prison, where the coffin was fastened - down immediately by order of the relatives, who had reason - to fear that the morbid--attracted by the notoriety of the - criminal--would seek by means of a bribe to view the remains. - The flames of rumour are set ablaze by a tiny spark, and the - fact that no one outside the prison saw the dead body of the - forger may have revived popular faith in a favourite belief. - The haste, too, in sealing up the shell may have excited - suspicion. For in later days it is certain that many persons - cherished the idea that Fauntleroy, more lucky than Jack - Sheppard or Dr Dodd, whose friends tried in vain to restore - them to life, had survived his execution. _Vide_ also _Notes - and Queries_, First Series, viii. 270, ix. 445, x. 114, 233. - Possibly that prince of inkslingers, G. W. M. Reynolds, may - have had the Fauntleroy legend in his mind when he drew the - picture of the resuscitated forger in the first part of his - obscene and scurrilous romance, _The Mysteries of the Court - of London_. Fauntleroy was buried in the cemetery at Bunhill - Fields on Thursday, Dec. 2. - -NOTE IV.--_Old Stories Retold._ By George Walter Thornbury (1867), p. -290. - - Mr Walter Thornbury makes a brave and ingenious attempt to - explain “the mystery still shrouding the great Fauntleroy - swindle,” and “to conjecture for what purpose the dishonest - banker preserved in a private box so carefully a suicidal - statement of his own misdoings.” His conclusion is that - Fauntleroy invented the lie so it should not be thought that he - had been influenced by motives of greed, but that as time went - on he began actually to credit the untruth, and, treasuring - the paper for conscience’ sake, was for years “buoyed up by - the secret excuse of an absurd and illogical revenge.” It - is only a want of lucidity that prevented Mr Thornbury from - unshrouding the mystery, for the explanation--the key of which - he held in his hand--is a simple one. There was method in - Fauntleroy’s seeming madness. The document found in his private - box, which gave a list of his forgeries, and contained the - footnote explaining that his motive was revenge against the - Bank, was dated May 7, 1816. It is notorious that never in her - history was the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street so unpopular - as at this time. For nearly twenty years she had borne the - odium caused by the suspension of cash payments, and by the - alarming depreciation of paper money. In like manner, the panic - which overthrew so many provincial houses in 1814, 1815, and - 1816 was ascribed to her envied monopoly; and her consequent - prosperity, owing to the demand for Bank of England notes, - helped to increase the widespread jealousy. Never had forger - a more splendid shield than Henry Fauntleroy. Although he had - hoped and believed that the proceeds of his first frauds would - enable his firm to weather the financial storm, yet if Nemesis - should overtake him before he had struggled through the slough, - he was justified in supposing that the Board of Directors might - hesitate to prosecute a man who would be hailed as a popular - champion. Indeed, had his crime been as paltry as that of - Henry Savary, it is quite probable that the public would have - regarded him as an intrepid enemy of the Bank’s monopoly, and - that a like storm which compelled the financial legislation of - 1819 and 1825 might have saved him from the scaffold. Fate - compelled him to overreach himself, or the crafty story of - revenge might have been believed. - -NOTE V.--_The History of the Catnach Press._ By Charles Hindley (1886), -p. 73. - - But for the indefatigable researches of this author we should - know little of the immortal Jemmy, who, it must be remembered, - was the Alfred Harmsworth of his day. - -NOTE VI.--_Dic. Nat. Biog._ - - Like Pierce Egan and Charles Hindley, the writer of this - monograph states that Fauntleroy was convicted for a fraud - upon his sister-in-law, which is the more remarkable as _The - Times_ is cited as an authority. The name of the forger’s - father was not Henry, but William; the arrest was made on - September 10, not September 11; the warrant of commitment - charged him with embezzling, not a thousand, but ten thousand - pounds; the Berners Street Bank was not founded in 1782, but - ten years later; the value of Miss Young’s stock was £5450; - and Fauntleroy was committed for trial on October 19. There - does not appear to be any authority for the assertion that the - fraudulent transfers first began in 1815, and it would be more - correct to say that Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company announced - the suspension of payment on September 13. - -NOTE VII.--_History of the Bank of England._ By John Francis (1847). -Vol. i. pp. 339-345. - - The author of this work, relying upon the evidence of J. - H. Palmer before a Committee of the House of Commons in - 1832, estimates the loss of the Bank of England through the - Fauntleroy forgeries at £360,000. Although these figures were - correct at the time when the Governor made his statement, the - Bank received £95,000 from Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company - during September 1835, in full discharge of their debt.[1] - Thus, as the gross loss to the Bank, according to John Horsley - Palmer, was £360,214, the actual loss appears to have been - reduced to £265,214. - -NOTE VIII.--For particulars of the Berners Street Bankruptcy consult -the following:-- - - (_a_) _The Bank of England’s Case_ under Marsh & Co.’s - Commission. By a Solicitor. (Lupton Relfe, 113 Cornhill. 1825.) - - (_b_) _The Bank of England’s Claim_ ... in reply to Mr - Wilkinson’s Report upon the Facts. (Lupton Relfe. 1825.) - - (_c_) _Ryan and Moody’s Law Reports from 1823-1826._ “Stone and - Another _v._ Marsh, Stracey & Graham.” P. 364. - - (_d_) _Reports of Cases determined at Nisi Prius from - 1823-1827._ By Edward Ryan and Wm. Moody. “Hume and Another - _v._ Bolland and Others.” P. 371. - - (_e_) _Cases in Bankruptcy from 1821-1828._ By Thomas Glynn and - Robert Jameson. “Governor and Company of the Bank of England in - the matter of Marsh, Stracey, Graham and Fauntleroy.” Vol. ii. - pp. 363-368, 446. - - (_f_) _The Report of Committee of Secrecy on the Bank of - England’s Charter_ (1832). _Vide_ Evidence of John Horsley - Palmer (Governor). P. 9, and Appendix, p. 55. - - (_g_) _Returns as to Bankruptcies previous to the Act of - Parliament, 1831._ (1839.) Vol. xliii. p. 96. - -[1] I wish to acknowledge, with many thanks, the kindness of Mr Kenneth -Graham, Secretary of the Bank of England, in verifying the sum paid by -the assignees of Marsh, Stracey & Company. - - - - -INDEX - - - Abbott, Charles, 124. - - Abinger, Baron, 167. - - Adair, Mr James, 49, 52, 53. - - Adair, Mr Serjeant James, 53. - - Adair, Dr Robert, 39, 73. - - Adair, Robin (origin of song), 39, 73. - - Adair, Mr William, 39, 40 _sq._; - discovers his signature, 42; - mentioned, 46, 49, 55. - - Addington, Dr Anthony, 17; - Henry, 133, 140, 141, 179. - - Adolphus, John, 214. - - Ainsworth, Harrison, vii. - - Akerman (Governor of Newgate), his humanity, 63, 98. - - Albemarle, second Earl, 39. - - Alley, Mr (counsel for Wall), 123, 124, 196. - - Alvanley, Lord, 187. - - Ammersley, Mr (banker), 94, 95. - - Angel, Miss. _See_ Kauffman, Angelica. - - Angelini, Edmund, 199. - - Angelo, Domenico, 92, 101. - - Angelo, Henry, 62, 108. - - Aram, Eugene, viii, 104. - - Armstrong, Benjamin, 119, 121, 125, 127, 143, 145. - - Asgill, Sir Charles, 90, 91. - - Ashbee, H. S., 224. - - Ashe, Miss, 173. - - Aston, Sir Richard, 28, 54, 61. - - Atlay, J. B., vii. - - Ayliffe, John, 85. - - - Bailey (barrister), 57, 58, 62. - - Baker (coiner), executed, 65. - - Baker, Mr, 197, 199, 201 _sq._, 223, 226. - - Bamford, Sam, 192. - - ‘Bang’ Mrs, 181, 190, 212. - - Bank of England, 184 _sq._, 194 _sq._, 208, 216 _sqq._, 225 _sq._ - - Barnes, Thomas, 221. - - Barrington, George, 206. - - Barrow, Mr, 224. - - Bartolozzi, F., completes engraving by Ryland, 97. - - Bathurst, Henry (barrister), 23. - - Bell, John, 222. - - _Bell’s Weekly Dispatch_, 222. - - _Bell’s Weekly Messenger_, 222. - - Binfield, Betty, 15, 17. - - Binns, Edward, 225. - - Black, John, 220. - - Blackburn, Joseph, 205. - - Blake, William, mentioned, 79; - visit to Ryland, 88. - - Blandy, Francis, described, 1 _sqq._; - breaks with Cranstoun, 8; - invites him to Henley, 10; - attitude towards him, 10; - falls ill, 13; - suspects poison, 16; - last hours, 18 _sq._; - death, 20. - - Blandy, Mary, mentioned, viii, 9, 74; - described, 2; - early life, 3 _sqq._; - engagement to Cranstoun, 4 _sq._; - passion for Cranstoun, 8 _sq._; - fear of disinheritance, 11; - plots with Cranstoun, 11; - receives love philtre from him, 12; - prepares her father’s oatmeal, 14 _sq._; - suspected by her father, 16; - calls in Dr Addington, 17; - writes to Cranstoun, 17; - conversation with dying father, 18 _sq._; - accused by Dr Addington, 20; - taken to Oxford castle, 21; - life there, 22; - trial, 23 _sqq._; - speech, 25; - found guilty, 27; - last days, 29; - execution, 30 _sqq._; - burial, 33; - date of birth, 38. - - Blandy, Mrs, described, 2 _sq._; - death, 7. - - Bolland, James, 205, 214. - - Boswell, James, viii; - visits Mrs Rudd, 68. - - Botting, James, 136, 204. - - Boucher, François, 80 _sq._, 82, 105. - - Boyd, Hugh M’Auley, 55. - - Braham, John (singer), 39, 73. - - Brandreth, Jeremy, 142. - - _Brighton Gazette_, 224. - - _British Press_, 221. - - Broderick, Mr, 196. - - Brooke, Dr, 46, 55. - - Brown, Sheriff, 192, 202. - - Brownrigg, Elizabeth, 54, 138. - - Brummell, George (‘Beau’), 149. - - Bryer & Co., 87. - - Budworth, Joseph, writes of Mary of Buttermere, 146, 147; - advice to her, 148; - writes again, 148; - details of his articles, 176, 177. - - Buller, Judge, 95 _sq._ - - Burke, William, 138. - - Bute, Marquis of, 83; - employs Ryland, 84. - - Butterfield, Jane, 59. - - Buttermere, Mary (the Beauty of), mentioned, viii, ix; - Wordsworth’s lines on, 146; - becomes famous, 147; - Wordsworth’s and Coleridge’s account of, 147; - marries ‘Colonel Hope’ 152; - description of, 152; - wedding tour, 154; - announcement of marriage, 158; - discovers husband’s identity, 158; - letter to Sir Richard Forde, 165; - popular sympathy with, 166; - attitude to Hadfield after trial, 169; - child born, 173; - marriage and subsequent life, 174; - contemporary descriptions of, 176 _sq._ - - Byng, Admiral, 128. - - Byron, Lord, 155. - - - Cadogan, Lord, 22. - - Cameron, Jenny, 1. - - Canning, Elizabeth, 34. - - Canot, Peter Charles (engraver), 76. - - Carlisle House, 86, 101. - - Caroline, Queen, 189. - - Casanova, 86. - - Catnach, Jemmy, 188, 226. - - Charlson, Abraham, 166. - - Chatterton, Thomas, 205. - - Chudleigh, Elizabeth, 10, 60, 86. - - Churchill, Charles, 85. - - Clement, Mr, 222. - - Cock, Henry, 205. - - Conant, Mr John, 185, 191. - - Conway, General, 121. - - Conyngham, Lady, 199. - - Coleman, Henry, 22. - - Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, mentioned, viii; - articles on Hadfield, 169, 175; - description of Mary of Buttermere, 176. - - Copley, Sir John, 193, 194. - _See also_ Lyndhurst, Lord. - - Cornelys, Madame, 101. - _See also_ Imer, Therese. - - Cornelys, Sophie, 86. - - Cotton, Rev. (Ordinary of Newgate), 197, 198, 199, 200 _sq._, 202, 203, 223. - - _Courier_, 223. - - Cox, Sheriff, 134, 137, 138. - - Cranstoun, Lady, 4, 5, 7, 10. - - Cranstoun, fifth Lord, 4, 37. - - Cranstoun, Captain William Henry, courts Miss Blandy, 4; - stays with Blandys, 4; - past life, 4 _sq._; - divorce suit, 6 _sq._; - dismissal from Henley, 8; - return, 10; - desperate position of, 10; - plots with Miss Blandy, 11; - returns to Scotland, 12; - sends ‘Scotch pebbles’ 12; - writes instructions, 13; - denounced by Mr Blandy, 18; - escape and death, 28; - alleged innocence, 37, 38; - mentioned, 74. - - Crump, John Gregory, 149; - friendship with ‘Colonel Hope’ 149; - honours his draft, 152; - witness at Hadfield’s trial, 167; - mentioned, 168, 169. - - Cumberland, Henry Frederick, Duke of, 48, 165. - - - Dagge, Henry (barrister), 45. - - Dalboux, Hannah, 58. - - Davy, Serjeant, 62. - - Dawson, Mrs, 69. - - Delaney, Mrs, 104. - - Demarteau, Gilles (engraver), 82. - - Dennis & Co., 161, 167. - - D’Eon, Chevalier, 60. - - De Quincey, articles on Hadfield, 169, 172, 176. - - Despard, Col. Edward Marcus, ix, 140. - - De Vaudreuil, 113. - - Dickens, Charles, 192. - - Disney, Mrs J. C., 212, 214. - - Dodd, Dr, viii, 54, 67, 104, 186, 205, 225. - - Donellan, Captain, viii, 105. - - Drummond, Henry, 40 _sqq._ - - Drummond, Messrs, 40 _sqq._ - - Drummond, Robert, 40; - destroys Mrs Rudd’s writing, 44. - - Duval, Claude, 173. - - - Egan, Pierce, 215, 223, 224. - - Egmont, Lord, 40. - - Eldon, Lord Chancellor, 132. - - _Elia, Essays of_, 38. - - Emmet, Ann, 13, 14. - - _Englishman_, 222. - - Evans, Private William, 120. - - Ewart, William, 67, 221. - - _Examiner_, 222. - - - Falconet, Pierre (portrait of Ryland), 87. - - Faulkner, Mary, 129. - - Fauntleroy, Henry, mentioned, viii, ix, 67; - becomes manager of bank, 179; - description of, 179; - character, 180; - private life, 181; - marriage, 182; - _liaisons_, 182; - forgeries, 183 _sq._; - discovery, 184; - arrest, 185; - examined at Marlborough Street, 187 _sq._; - excitement over his case, 188; - friendship with Parkins, 190; - imprisonment, 191; - employs Harmer as solicitor, 192; - trial, 193 _sq._; - defence, 195; - verdict, 196; - sentenced, 196; - last days, 197 _sqq._; - execution, 203; - comments on case, 205 _sqq._; - details of forgeries, 207 _sqq._; - and the newspapers, 220 _sqq._; - contemporary accounts of trial, 224 _sqq._; - reported resuscitation, 225; - written statement of motives discussed, 225. - - Fauntleroy, John, 197. - - Fauntleroy, William, 178; - death, 179. - - Fauntleroy, William Moore, 180, 224. - - Fawcett, Henry, 120. - - Fenning, Elizabeth, viii, 33, 95. - - Ferrers, Lord, viii, 53. - - Ferrick, Peter (surgeon), 127 _sq._ - - Fielding, Henry, viii, 9, 33. - - Fielding, Sir John, 46, 93. - - Fielding, William, 124. - - Fisher, Kitty, 48. - - Fitzgerald, George Robert (‘fighting’), 114, 142. - - Fitzroy, Lady Caroline, 10; - (Petersham, 173; - Lady Harrington, 86). - - Foote, Miss, 207. - - Forde, Rev. (Ordinary of Newgate), 135, 136. - - Forde, Sir Richard, 165. - - Fortrose, Baron, 123, 145. - - Fox, Charles James, 141. - - Fox, Maria, Fauntleroy’s mistress, 182; - visits him in Newgate, 197, 198; - mentioned, 212; - trial, 214. - - Fragonard, Jean Honoré, 79, 80. - - Francis, John, 226. - - François, Jean Charles, 82. - - Frankau, Mrs Julia, 88; - account of Ryland discussed, 109. - - Frankland, Admiral Sir Thomas, 46, 52; - attacks Mrs Rudd, 57, 58; - prosecutor at her trial, 59; - daughters painted by Hoppner, 73. - - Freeman, Mrs, 92. - - Freshfield, Mr, 185, 186, 193. - - Fry, Elizabeth, 197, 223. - - - Gahagan, Usher (poet), 104. - - Gainsborough, Tom, 75. - - Gale and Barnard, 225. - - Gardelle, Theodore, 54, 104. - - Garnet, Father, 212. - - Garrick, David, 9. - - Garrow, Baron, 193, 196. - - _Gentleman’s Magazine_, 224. - - George III.: mercilessness, 56, 63, 67; - portrait by Allan Ramsay, 83; - pardons Ryland’s brother, 86; - refuses to pardon Ryland, 97; - considers Wall’s case, 132; - refuses to pardon, 133. - - George, Prince of Wales. _See_ George IV. - - George IV.: humanity, 67, 149, 150; - character, 198. - - Gibbon, Edward, 32. - - Gillray, James, 177. - - _Globe and Traveller_, 223. - - Glynn (Recorder), 55. - - Goodchild, Mr, 185. - - Goree (island of), 113 _sqq._ - - Gould, Henry, 60. - - Graham, W. (barrister), 95. - - Graham, Mr, 211. - - Granby, Lord, 48, 159. - - Green, William, 176. - - Grignion, Jacques (engraver), 76. - - Gunnel, Susan, 13, 14, 13, 18 _sqq._ - - Gunning, the Misses, 34. - - Gurney, John, 124, 193. - - Gwynn, John, 85, 92, 101. - - - Hackman, Rev. Mr James, viii, 54, 105. - - Hadfield, John, mentioned, viii, 146; - passes as Col. Hope, 148; - in Lake District, 149; - makes friends with John Crump, 149; - stays at Buttermere, 149; - acquaintance with Colonel Moore, 150; - betrothed to his niece, 150; - pretensions suspected, 151; - marries Mary of Buttermere, 152, 153 _sq._; - wedding tour, 154; - returns to Buttermere, 155; - confronted by George Hardinge, 155; - arrested, 156; - draws on Mr Crump, 156; - escape, 156 _sq._; - identity discovered, 158; - previous life, 159 _sqq._; - motives, 163; - details of escape, 163; - arrested, 164; - examination, 165; - taken to Carlisle, 166; - trial, 166 _sqq._; - speech, 167; - sentenced, 168; - last days, 168; - execution, 171; - burial, 171; - case examined, 172; - character and motives, 172 sq. - - Hadfield, Mrs John, 161; - loyalty to husband, 165; - mentioned, 169. - - Haley, Sheriff, 66. - - Hamilton, Sir Edward, 141, 142, 143. - - Hanson, John, 191. - - Hardinge, George, 155 _sq._, 165. - - Hare, William (‘burker’), 60. - - Harmer, James, 192, 193, 196, 199; - reproves _Times_, 221; - proprietor of _Weekly Dispatch_, 222. - - Harrington, Lady, 86. _See also_ Fitzroy, Lady Caroline. - - Harris (turnkey of Newgate), 191, 201. - - Harrison, Richard, marries Mary of Buttermere, 174. - - Hart, Mrs Christian, 57, 58, 62. - - Harvey, Daniel, 222. - - Harvey, Edward, 143. - - Harwood, Joseph, 198, 200. - - Hawkins, Sir John, 76. - - Hayes, Catherine, 123. - - Hayman, Francis, 75. - - Hayward, Samuel Denmore, 173; - life of, 224. - - Heathfield, Lardner & Co., 167. - - Heidegger, John James, 9. - - Hindley, Charles, 226. - - Hogarth, William, 76. - - Holroyd, George, 167. - - Holt (secretary E.I.C.), 94. - - Hook, Theodore, 223. - - Hope, Colonel Alexander Augustus. - _See_ Hadfield; - the real, 158, 166, 167, 170. - - Hope, Anthony, 207. - - Hopetoun, third Earl of, 148, 152, 166. - - Howard, Frances, 34. - - Hughes, Ball, 187. - - Hughes, Sir Edward, 113. - - Hulme, J. D., 184. - - Hunt, Henry (‘orator’), 190. - - Hunt, Joseph, 184, 192. - - Hunton, Joseph, 222. - - Hutchings, W. W., vii. - - - Imer, Therese, 86. - _See_ also Cornelys, Madame. - - - Jack (Rann), ‘Sixteen String’ 44, 54. - - James III., 83. - - Jeffries, Elizabeth, 34. - - _John Bull_ (newspaper), 223. - - Johnson, Patrick, 208. - - Johnson, Dr Samuel, viii, 3; - and Mrs Rudd, 68. - - Jones, Mr Arthur (solicitor), 40. - - - Kate, ‘Corinthian’ 181, 190, 212, 215. - - Kauffman, Angelica, 105 _sqq._; - friendship with Ryland, 88; - pictures engraved by Ryland, 89 _sqq._; - mentioned, 101. - - Key, Alderman John, 193, 202. - - Kent, Constance, 34. - - Kent, Mary Ann (Mrs Bang), 212. - - Keppel, Lady Caroline, 39, 73. - - Kerr, General Lord Mark, 4, 5, 6. - - Kinder, Colonel George, 49; - attacks Mrs Rudd, 56. - - Kirby (keeper of Newgate), 131, 133, 138. - - Knowlys, Newman, 124. - - - La Charpillon, Mademoiselle, 86. - - Lacy, Mrs, 128 _sq._ - - Lamb, Charles, 38. - - Law, Edward (Attorney-General), 124; - conducts case against Wall, 125 _sqq._ - - Lawrence, Sir Soulden, 124. - - Le Bas, Jacques Philippe, 81. - - Legge, Judge, 23, 27. - - Lee, George (highwayman), 65. - - Leighton, Blair, 106. - - Lewis, Evan, 126. - - Lewis, Dr William, 20. - - Lewis, ‘Monk’ 165. - - Lloyd (housebreaker), 99. - - Lovat, Lord, 83. - - Lowry, Captain James, 138, 142 _sq._ - - Luddite riots, 166. - - Lyndhurst, Lord, 193, 217. - - Lyttelton, Lord, 62, 68. - - Lyttleton, Lady, 40. - - - Macclesfield, Lord, 22. - - Macdonald, Sir Archibald, 124. - - Mackenzie, Frances, 123. - _See_ Mrs Wall. - - Mackenzie, Captain Kenneth, 122, 128, 133, 141, 143. - - Mackenzie, Kenneth (father of Mrs Wall), 145. - - Mackintosh, James, 67, 221. - - Macnamara, Colonel, 114. - - Maclean, James, 173. - - Mansfield, Lord (Chief-Justice), judgment in Mrs Rudd’s case, 60, 61; - mentioned, 68, 88. - - Marsh, Sibbald & Co., 178. - - Marsh, Stracey, Fauntleroy & Graham, 179, 196, 207 _sqq._, 221, 222, 226. - - Marsh, Mr William, 178, 209, 211, 216. - - Martin, Samuel (M.P.), 54. - - Maybrick, Florence, 34. - - Maynard, Thomas, 222. - - Mills (bankers), 52. - - Mirabeau, Count, 80. - - Montgomery, Captain John, 222. - - Moore, Col. Nathaniel Montgomery, 150; - cashes draft on Mr Crump, 151; - suspects ‘Colonel Hope’ 152; - confronts him, 155, 156; - mentioned, 167, 178. - - Moreland, Mr (banker), 95. - - _Morning Advertiser_, 221. - - _Morning Chronicle_, 220, 221, 223. - - _Morning Herald_, 220. - - _Morning Post_, 220. - - Mountenay, Mr, 24, 29. - - Murray, Miss (Mrs Cranstoun), 6. - - Murray, Fanny, 48. - - - Napier, Sir Charles, 121. - - Nation, Mrs, 160; - marries Hadfield, 161. - _See also_ Mrs Hadfield. - - Nelson, Sara, 176. - - Newell, Thomas (attorney), 22. - - _Newgate Calendar_, vii, viii, 69, 173, 224. - - Newnham, Sheriff, 66. - - Newton, Mr (lawyer), 167. - - _New Times_, 221. - - Nicholson, Rev. John, 153 _sq._; - faith in ‘Colonel Hope’ 155 _sq._; - assists his escape, 156 _sq._; - witness at Hadfield’s trial, 167; - mentioned, 172. - - Nightingale, Mr, 90, 91. - - Nollekens, Joseph, 75. - - Norfolk, Duke of, 130, 189. - - Norman, Henry, 205. - - Norton, Benjamin (apothecary), 17, 18. - - Nucella, Mr, 161. - - - _Observer_, 222. - - Oldham (Deputy-Advocate), 130. - - - Palmer, J. H., 226. - - Palmer, William, 138. - - Park, Justice, 193, 196. - - Parke, Colonel, 167. - - Parkins, Joseph Wilfred, mentioned, 182, 215; - career, 189 _sq._; - indicted for perjury, 192; - at Fauntleroy’s trial, 192 _sq._; - letters to press against Fauntleroy, 220; - and _Morning Herald_, 220; - letter to _Sunday Times_, 222; - lawsuit, 223. - - Parsons, William, 175. - - Paterson, George, 119, 120; - dies, 121, 144, 145. - - Peckham (counsel for Ryland), 94. - - Peel, John, 174. - - Peel, Sir Robert, 199. - - Pelham, Lord, 124, 131. - - Perceval, Spencer, 124. - - Perreau, Daniel, mentioned, ix, 39, 205; - description of, 44; - committed to prison, 46; - relations with Mr Rudd, 48 _sq._; - speculations, 49; - takes house in Harley Street, 50; - statement in defence, 52; - on trial at Old Bailey, 54; - defence and condemnation, 55; - attitude after trial, 63; - in the Press Yard, 63; - drive to Tyburn, 64 _sq._; - execution, 66; - guilt, 67. - - Perreau, Mrs Daniel. - _See_ Mrs Rudd. - - Perreau, Mrs Robert, 58; - evidence at Mrs Rudd’s trial, 62; - begs Queen for mercy, 63. - - Perreau, Robert, mentioned, 39, 205; - at Drummond’s Bank, 40 _sqq._; - denounces Mrs Rudd, 45; - committed to prison, 46; - attitude towards brother, 50; - joins in plans of Daniel and Mrs Rudd, 51; - cashes bonds, 52; - trial at Old Bailey, 54; - defence and condemnation, 55; - loyalty to brother, 63; - attempts to save, 63; - in Press Yard, 63; - drive to Tyburn, 64 _sq._; - execution, 66; - guilt, 67. - - Petersham, Lady Caroline (Fitzroy), 173. - - Picton, Thomas, 142. - - Pitt, William, 132, 141. - - Plank, Samuel, 185. - - Plumer, Thomas, 124, 129. - - Pocock, Mrs, 31. - - Pompadour, Mme. de, 79, 81. - - Poplett, Lieut. Thomas, 127. - - - Quick (clerk), 167. - - - _Rambler’s Magazine_, 224. - - Ramsay, Allan (portrait of George III.), 83. - - Rann, John (‘Sixteen String Jack’), 44, 54. - - Ransome & Moreland, 91. - - Ratcliffe (coiner), executed, 65. - - Ravenet (engraver), 76, 77. - - Ray, Martha, viii; - Récamier, Madame, 166. - - Reed, Mr Frederick, of Hassness, 176. - - Reynolds, G. W. M., 225. - - Reynolds, Sir Joshua, viii, 75, 105. - - Rice (broker), 53. - - Rich, John, 9. - - Rives, Mr (lawyer), 22, 30. - - Roberts, Captain, 116, 145. - - Robinson, George, 120. - - Robinson, Mary. - _See_ Buttermere, Beauty of. - - Romilly, Samuel, 67, 221. - - Rooke, Sir Giles, 124. - - Roubiliac, 75. - - Rous (barrister), 95. - - Rouvelett, John, 205. - - Ryland, Edward, 74; - his plates, 76. - - Ryland, Mrs, 92; - opens print-shop, 104. - - Ryland, Richard, 87. - - Ryland, William Wynne, mentioned, viii, ix, x, 54, 205; - attends St Martin’s Lane Academy, 74 _sq._; - apprenticed to Ravenet, 76; - home in Old Bailey, 77; - goes to Paris, 78; - at Boucher’s studio, 80 _sq._; - engravings after Boucher, 81; - learns stipple, 82; - makes the grand tour, 82; - exhibits in England, 83; - returns to England, 83; - appointed king’s engraver, 84; - engraves royal pictures, 85; - friends, 85; - society, 86; - obtains pardon for brother, 86; - resides in Stafford Row, 87; - portrait, 87; - starts as print-seller, 87; - fails, 87; - visited by Blake, 87; - friendship with Angelica Kauffman, 87; - engraves her pictures, 89; - print-shop in Strand, 90; - success, 90; - extravagance, 91; - charged with forgery, 92; - in hiding, 92; - attempts suicide, 93; - in Bridewell, 93; - trial, 94; - condemnation, 95; - last engravings, 97; - progress to Tyburn, 98 _sqq._; - execution, 102; - burial, 104; - guilt, 104; - genius, 105; - Mrs Frankau’s account of, 109; - other accounts, 109; - list of engravings by, 110. - - Rudd, Margaret Caroline, mentioned, viii, 105; - description of, 43; - confesses forgery, 44; - committed to Bridewell, 46; - appears before Sir John Fielding, 46; - admitted as evidence for Crown, 47; - previous life, 47 _sqq._; - passes as Daniel Perreau’s wife, 49; - sources of income, 49, 50; - family, 50; - skill as forger, 51; - statement in defence, 53; - committed to Newgate, 54; - arouses public sympathy, 56; - her enemies, 56; - defends herself in the press, 56; - dealings with Mrs Hart, 58; - and with Hannah Dalboux, 58; - her ‘pair of scissors’ 59; - six months in Newgate, 60; - her case before the judges, 61; - gives her brief, 61; - appearance at Old Bailey, 61; - trial and acquittal, 62; - conduct reviewed, 68; - subsequent history, 68; - death, 69. - - Rudd, Valentine, 48. - - Rutland, Duke of, 159. - - - St Martin’s Lane Academy, 74. - - Salvadore (moneylender), 48. - - Sanxy (Dr), 59. - - Savary, Henry, 205, 225. - - Scarlett, James, 167, 213. - - Scawen, William, 59. - - Scotin (engraver), 76. - - Seaforth, Lord, 145. - - Selwyn, George, 32, 104. - - Serres, Olive, 189. - - Sharp, William (engraver), 97. - - Sheppard, Jack, 206, 225. - - Sibbald, Sir James, 178, 211. - - Sidmouth, Lord, 190. - - Skelton, Mr, 149. - - Slaughter’s coffee house, 75. - - Smith (Governor of Bridewell), 93. - - Smith, Madeleine, 34. - - Smith, Tom, 104. - - Smythe, Judge, 23. - - Springett, Rev., 197, 199, 201 _sq._, 220. - - Stark, Thomas, 40. - - Stevens, Serjeant Henry, 8, 38. - - Stewart, John, 49. - - Stracey, Sir Edward, 178. - - Stracey, Mr J. H. (Sir Josias), 178, 188, 211. - - Strange, Robert (engraver), 83. - - Strutt, James (pupil to Ryland), 84. - - Stuart, Daniel, 223. - - _Sun_, 223. - - _Sunday Times_, 221, 222. - - Sutherland, Captain John, 143. - - Swinton, Rev. John, 26, 29, 30. - - Sydney, Lord, 117. - _See also_ Townshend. - - Sylvester (Crown counsel), 95. - - - Tadema, Alma, 106. - - Taylor, Sheriff Robert, 93, 98. - - Thistlewood, Arthur, 142. - - Thomson, Sir Alexander, 166, 172. - - Thornbury, George Walter, 206, 225. - - Thornhill, Sir James, 75. - - Thornton, Abraham, 167. - - Thurtell, John, viii, 184, 188, 192, 221, 224. - - Timbs, Private Charles, 130. - - _Times_, 220, 221, 223, 224, 225. - - Townshend, Mr, 112, 115, 117. - - Traill, H. D., 175. - - Turner, Anne, 34. - - Turton, William Henry, 143. - - - Urban, Sylvanus, 145. - - Upton, Corporal Thomas, 120; - dies, 121. - - - Vickery (Governor of Coldbath Fields Prison), 191, 221. - - Villette, Rev. (Ordinary of Newgate), 65, 66; - at Ryland’s execution, 99, 102. - - - Waithman (Lord Mayor), 190. - - Waterman, Mr (papermaker), 95. - - Wale, Sam, 76. - - Walker (engraver), 76. - - Walpole, Horace, 21, 34, 59, 104. - - Walter, Mr, 216, 221. - - Wall, Augustine, 145. - - Wall, Governor Joseph, mentioned, ix; - description of, 112; - Governor of Goree, 113; - serves in West Indies, 113; - in John Company, 113; - duels, 114; - service in North-West Africa, 114; - Governor of Goree, 115; - censured by Horse Guards, 116; - arrest, 117; - escape, 117; - his soldiers in Goree, 117; - their discontent, 118, 119; - has soldiers flogged, 120; - fugitive abroad, 122; - returns to London, 123; - surrenders, 124; - trial, 125 _sqq._; - sentence, 131; - last days, 131 _sqq._; - execution, 137; - body ransomed from Surgeons’ Hall, 139; - burial, 139; - comments on his case, 139 _sqq._; - other accusations against, 144; - reported court-martial, 145; - flogging of other soldiers, 145; - date of appointment, 145. - - Wall, Mrs Joseph, 123; - attempts to get husband reprieved, 131; - parting with husband, 133; - mentioned, 145. - - Watteau, Antoine, 79. - - Wellington, Duke of, 198. - - Weston, Henry, 205. - - Whibley, Charles, vii. - - Wild, Jonathan (thief-taker), 74. - - Wilkes, John, 48, 87; - at Perreaus’ trial, 54. - - Wilkes, Miss Polly, 56. - - Wilson, Harriet, 182. - - Wilson, Richard, 75. - - Wilkinson, Mr, 213. - - Wilkinson, Tate, 21. - - William IV., 198. - - Williams, Peter, 129. - - Williams-Wynne, Sir Watkin, 74. - - Wontner (Governor of Newgate), 191, 196, 201. - - Wordsworth, William, mentioned, viii; - lines on Mary of Buttermere, 144, 145, 176; - on ‘little Barbara Lewthwaite’ 148; - visits Hadfield in gaol, 169. - - Wood, Alderman, 189. - - Wood, George, 124, 167. - - Wright, Sir Sampson, 45, 93. - - - York, Duke of, 150. - - Young, Miss Elizabeth, 187. - - Young, Miss Frances, 187, 194, 225. - - Youngson, Margaret Caroline, 49. - _See also_ Rudd. - - -PRINTED BY NEILL AND CO., LTD., EDINBURGH. - - -Transcriber's Note: - -Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Some Distinguished Victims of the -Scaffold, by Horace Bleackley - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISTINGUISHED VICTIMS OF THE SCAFFOLD *** - -***** This file should be named 52301-0.txt or 52301-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/3/0/52301/ - -Produced by Brian Coe, Wayne Hammond and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i34 {display: block; margin-left: 17em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Some Distinguished Victims of the Scaffold, by -Horace Bleackley - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Some Distinguished Victims of the Scaffold - -Author: Horace Bleackley - -Release Date: June 10, 2016 [EBook #52301] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISTINGUISHED VICTIMS OF THE SCAFFOLD *** - - - - -Produced by Brian Coe, Wayne Hammond and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div id="coverpage"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">i</span></p> - -<h1>SOME DISTINGUISHED VICTIMS<br /> -OF THE SCAFFOLD</h1> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">iii</span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">iv</span></p> - -<div id="frontispiece" class="figcenter"> -<p class="large caption">The IDLE ‘PRENTICE Executed at Tyburn.</p> -<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">v</span></p> - -<p class="ph1"> -SOME<br /> - -DISTINGUISHED VICTIMS<br /> - -OF THE SCAFFOLD<br /> - -<span class="small">BY</span><br /> - -<span class="large">HORACE BLEACKLEY</span><br /> - -<span class="medium"><i>WITH TWENTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS</i></span><br /> -<br /> - -<span class="medium">LONDON</span><br /> -<span class="large">KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRÜBNER, & CO., <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span></span><br /> -<span class="medium">DRYDEN HOUSE, GERRARD STREET, W.<br /> -1905</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">vi</span></p> - -<p class="tdc"> -<span class="antiqua">To</span><br /> - -JOSEPH GREGO<br /> - -<span class="small">WHOSE MEMORY IS STORED WITH<br /> -PICTURES OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY<br /> -THESE MODERN IMPRESSIONS FROM<br /> -OLD PLATES ARE<br /> -OFFERED</span> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">vii</span></p> - -<h2 id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2> - -<p>No apology is needed, save that which the consciousness -of inadequate work may call forth, from him who writes -a history of great criminals. Since the lives of so -many whose crime is their only title to fame have -been included in the <i>Dictionary of National Biography</i>, -it is inevitable that some of these old stories shall be -re-told. Already the books of Charles Whibley and -J. B. Atlay, as well as the newspaper sketches of -W. W. Hutchings, have advanced this portion of our -bibliography to a large extent. By a judicious selection -some rare human documents and many an entrancing -tale may be found in the crimson pages of the Tyburn -Chronicle. The dainty squeamishness that put Ainsworth -into the pillory, not because he had written a -clumsy novel, but because he had dared to weave a -romance around the grisly walls of Newgate, would be -out of place in an age that will listen to ballads of a -drunken soldier, and reads our women’s stories of the -boudoirs of Mayfair.</p> - -<p>Without a knowledge of the <i>Newgate Calendar</i> it is -impossible to be acquainted with the history of England -in the eighteenth century. On the other hand, to him -who knows these volumes, and who has verified his -information in the pages of the Sessions papers and -among the battles of the pamphleteers, the Georgian -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">viii</span> -era is an open book. No old novel gives a more -exact picture of a middle-class household than the trial -of Mary Blandy, nor shows the inner life of those on -the fringe of society more completely than the story of -Robert Perreau. While following the fate of Henry -Fauntleroy we enter the newspaper world of our great-grandfathers. -And as we look upon these forgotten -dramas, the most illustrious bear us company. For a -time Wordsworth and Coleridge chat of nothing but -the Beauty of Buttermere and rascally John Hadfield. -Dr Johnson thinks wistfully of the charms of sweet -Mrs Rudd. Boswell rides to Tyburn in the same -coach as the Rev. Mr Hackman, or persuades Sir -Joshua to witness an execution. Henry Fielding -lashes the cowards who strive to condemn a prisoner -unheard. To all who desire to understand the -eighteenth century the <i>Newgate Calendar</i> is as -essential as the <i>Letters</i> of Walpole.</p> - -<p>In making a selection from the dozen or more <i>causes -célèbres</i> that stand out in special prominence from the -rebellion of ’45 to the death of George IV. the choice -is not difficult. It is apparent that the stories of -Eugene Aram, Dr Dodd, and John Thurtell must be -omitted, for all have been told adequately in recent -years. Little that is new or interesting can be found -in the tale of mad Lord Ferrers, except that he was -not hanged with a silken rope. Although the weird -tragedy of the Rev. James Hackman sank more deeply -into the popular mind than almost any other, the -history of the brothers Perreau has been preferred, -since Mrs Rudd appears a more attractive personage -than the unfortunate Martha Ray. For similar reasons -Wynne Ryland takes the place of Captain Donellan, -and Eliza Fenning, naturally, has been excluded in -favour of the Keswick Impostor. As to the rest, it is -obvious—owing to the omission of the highwayman and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">ix</span> -those guilty of high treason such as Colonel Despard—that -no more illustrious names can be found in the -<i>Newgate Calendar</i> than Mary Blandy, Joseph Wall, and -Henry Fauntleroy.</p> - -<p>Each crime, moreover, bears the distinct impress of -its epoch. None other but the dark night that separates -a gorgeous sunset from the brilliant dawn could witness -the sombre tragedy at Henley. While the nation -begins its eager life as a young apprentice to trade, -Tom Idle is found among the recreants, and many -a sparkling macaroni like Daniel Perreau prefers to -stake his all in Exchange Alley to pursuing laborious -days. Wynne Ryland is dazzled by the birth of -a most radiant springtide when the world becomes -clothed in beauty, and man seems to have stolen the -heavenly flame. Then comes the clash of arms and -the strife of worlds, when the red giants are unchained, -and the life of ten thousand men is naught in the policy -of a statesman. With the story of the Maid of Buttermere -we perceive again one of the spirits of the age—vain, -ruthless Strephon in dandy attire pursuing his -Phyllis, shallow-pated and simple. And last, the era of -Henry Fauntleroy, when the nation has grown rich, and -man must choose between the scarlet of the Corinthian, -and the dull, sober garb of toil—a strange mingling of -black and crimson.</p> - -<p>In order to avoid an interruption of the narrative -which a footnote must always cause, the editorial -comments have been placed in the bibliography at the -end of each monograph, to which those who differ -from the author are requested to refer. Although -the addition of the lists of authorities has robbed the -book of due proportion, the fact that the useful adage -“when found make a note of” has been observed will, -it is hoped, cause the loss to be balanced by the gain.</p> - -<p>The author wishes to acknowledge his obligations to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">x</span> -Mr John Arthur for his kindness in verifying references -in the British Museum; to Mr Isaac Edwards of Bolton -for similar help; to the editors of the <i>Henley Advertiser</i>, -the <i>Carlisle Journal</i>, and the <i>Tiverton Gazette</i> for access -to the files of their newspapers; to the rectors of Henley, -Feltham, Mottram, St Sepulchre’s, Holborn, and St -Martin’s, Ludgate, for permission to consult the church -register; to Mr Richard Greenup of Caldbeck for -information concerning the Beauty of Buttermere; and -to Mrs Bleackley for the list of Wynne Ryland’s -engravings. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">xi</span></p> - -<h2 id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> - -<table class="toc"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdr small">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#THE_LOVE_PHILTRE"><span class="smcap">The Love Philtre.</span></a> The Case of Mary Blandy, 1751-1752</td> - <td class="tdrb">1</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="i2"><a href="#BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_THE_BLANDY_CASE">A Bibliography of the Blandy Case</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">35</td> - </tr> - <tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#THE_UNFORTUNATE_BROTHERS"><span class="smcap">The Unfortunate Brothers.</span></a> The Case of Robert and Daniel Perreau and Margaret Caroline Rudd, 1775-1776</td> - <td class="tdrb">39</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="i2"><a href="#BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_THE_PERREAU_CASE">A Bibliography of the Perreau Case</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">70</td> - </tr> - <tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#THE_KINGS_ENGRAVER"><span class="smcap">The King’s Engraver.</span></a> The Case of William Wynne Ryland, 1783</td> - <td class="tdrb">74</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="i2"><a href="#BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_THE_RYLAND_CASE">A Bibliography of the Ryland Case</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">107</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="i2"><a href="#A_LIST_OF_WILLIAM_WYNNE_RYLANDS_ENGRAVINGS">A List of William Wynne Ryland’s Engravings</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">110</td> - </tr> - <tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#A_SOP_TO_CERBERUS"><span class="smcap">A Sop to Cerberus.</span></a> The Case of Governor Wall, 1782-1802</td> - <td class="tdrb">112</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="i2"><a href="#BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_THE_WALL_CASE">A Bibliography of the Wall Case</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">144</td> - </tr> - <tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#THE_KESWICK_IMPOSTOR"><span class="smcap">The Keswick Impostor.</span></a> The Case of John Hadfield, 1802-1803</td> - <td class="tdrb">146</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="i2"><a href="#BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_THE_HADFIELD_CASE">A Bibliography of the Hadfield Case</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">175</td> - </tr> - <tr><td colspan="2"> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#A_FAMOUS_FORGERY"><span class="smcap">A Famous Forgery.</span></a> The Case of Henry Fauntleroy, 1824—</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="i4"><a href="#PART_I">Part I. The Criminal and his Crime</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">178</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="i4"><a href="#PART_II">Part II. Some Details of the Forgeries</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">207</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="i2"><a href="#FAUNTLEROY_AND_THE_NEWSPAPERS">Fauntleroy and the Newspapers</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">220</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="i2"><a href="#NOTES_ON_THE_FAUNTLEROY_CASE">Notes on the Fauntleroy Case</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">224</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#INDEX"><span class="smcap">Index</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">227</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">xii</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">xiii</span></p> - -<h2 id="ILLUSTRATIONS">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table class="toc"> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">1.</td> - <td><a href="#frontispiece">The Execution of the Idle Apprentice at Tyburn, <i>by Hogarth</i></a></td> - <td class="tdr"><i>Frontispiece</i></td> - <td class="small tdr">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">2.</td> - <td><a href="#i_001">Mary Blandy. <i>Mezzotint by T. Ryley after L. Wilson</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc"><i>to face</i></td> - <td class="tdrb">1</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">3.</td> - <td><a href="#i_023">The Divinity School, Oxford, where Miss Blandy was tried</a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">23</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">4.</td> - <td><a href="#i_035">The Execution of Miss Blandy. <i>From an engraving by John Cole</i></a></td> - <td></td> - <td class="tdrb">35</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">5.</td> - <td><a href="#i_039">Messrs Robert and Daniel Perreau in the Dock</a></td> - <td class="tdc"><i>to face</i></td> - <td class="tdrb">39</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">6.</td> - <td><a href="#i_047">Margaret Caroline Rudd. <i>Line engraving by G. Sibelius after D. Dodd</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">47</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">7.</td> - <td><a href="#i_061">Mrs Margaret Rudd in the Dock. <i>Drawn and engraved by G. Bartolozzi</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">61</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">8.</td> - <td><a href="#i_074">William Wynne Ryland. <i>Drawn and engraved by P. Falconet</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">74</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">9.</td> - <td><a href="#i_084">His Majesty King George III. <i>Line engraving by W. W. Ryland after Allan Ramsay</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">84</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">10.</td> - <td><a href="#i_087">Charles Rogers. <i>Mezzotint by W. W. Ryland after Sir Joshua Reynolds</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">87</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">11.</td> - <td><a href="#i_090">General Stanwix’s Daughter. <i>Stipple engraving by W. W. Ryland after Angelica Kauffman</i> (an example of the famous ‘red-chalk’ manner)</a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">90</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">12.</td> - <td><a href="#i_110">Angelica Kauffman. <i>Stipple engraving by T. Burke after Sir Joshua Reynolds</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">110 -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">xiv</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">13.</td> - <td><a href="#i_112">Governor Wall. <i>An etching by J. Chapman</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">112</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">14.</td> - <td><a href="#i_146">John Hadfield. <i>Etched by J. Chapman</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">146</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">15.</td> - <td><a href="#i_152">The Beauty of Buttermere. <i>Coloured engraving after John Smith</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">152</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">16.</td> - <td><a href="#i_158">Mary of Buttermere. <i>Stipple engraving by Mackenzie from a drawing by W. M. Bennet</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">158</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">17.</td> - <td><a href="#i_173">Mary of Buttermere. <i>Etched by James Gillray</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">173</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">18.</td> - <td><a href="#i_178">Henry Fauntleroy. <i>From a sketch by “A. V.”</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">178</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">19.</td> - <td><a href="#i_192">James Harmer. <i>Line engraving by T. Wright from a drawing by A. Wivell</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">192</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">20.</td> - <td><a href="#i_195">Fauntleroy’s Trial at the Old Bailey. <i>By W. Read</i></a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">195</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">21.</td> - <td><a href="#i_204">Catnach’s Broadside of Fauntleroy’s Execution</a></td> - <td class="tdc">”</td> - <td class="tdrb">204</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">xv</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">xvi</span></p> - -<div id="i_001" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_001.jpg" alt="" /> -<div class="table w100"> - <span class="trow copy"> - <span class="tcell tdl"><i>F. Wilson Pinx<sup>t</sup>.</i></span> - <span class="tcell tdr"><i>T. Riley Fecit.</i></span> - </span> -</div> - -<div class="script"> -<p class="caption"><i>Miss Blandy</i></p> - -<p class="caption large"><i>Now confined in Oxford Gaol on Suspicion -of Poisoning her Father.</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p> -</div></div> - -<p class="ph1">Some Distinguished Victims of -the Scaffold</p> - -<h2 id="THE_LOVE_PHILTRE">THE LOVE PHILTRE<br /> - -<span class="medium">THE CASE OF MARY BLANDY, 1751-2</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Who hath not heard of Blandy’s fatal fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deplored her fate, and sorrowed o’er her shame?”<br /></span> -<span class="i16">—<i>Henley</i>, a poem, 1827.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>During the reign of George II.—when the gallant -Young Pretender was leading Jenny Cameron toward -Derby, and flabby, gin-besotted England, dismayed by -a rabble of half-famished Highlanders, was ready to -take its thrashing lying-down—a prosperous attorney, -named Francis Blandy, was living at Henley-upon-Thames. -For nine years he had held the post of town -clerk, and was reckoned a person of skill in his -profession. A dour, needle-witted man of law, whose -social position was more considerable than his means -or his lineage, old Mr Blandy, like others wiser than -himself, had a foible. His pride was just great enough -to make him a tuft-hunter. In those times, a solicitor -in a country town had many chances of meeting his -betters on equal terms, and when the attorney of Henley -pretended that he had saved the large sum of ten -thousand pounds, county society esteemed him at his -supposed value. There lived with him—in an old-world -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span> -home surrounded by gardens and close to the -bridge on the London road—his wife and daughter, an -only child, who at this period was twenty-five years -of age.</p> - -<p>Mrs Blandy, as consequential an old dame as ever -flaunted <i>sacque</i> or nodded her little bugle over a dish -of tea, seems to have spent a weary existence in wringing -from her tight-fisted lord the funds to support the -small frivolities which her social ambition deemed -essential to their prestige. A feminine mind seldom -appreciates the reputation without the utility of wealth, -and the lawyer’s wife had strong opinions with regard -to the propriety of living up to their ten-thousand-pound -celebrity. While he was content with the barren -honour that came to him by reason of the reputed <i>dot</i> -which his daughter one day must enjoy—pluming himself, -no doubt, that his Molly had as good a chance of winning -a coronet as the penniless daughter of an Irish squireen—his -lady, with more worldly wisdom, knew the value -of an occasional jaunt to town, and was fully alive to -the chances of rout or assembly hard-by at Reading. -Thus in the pretty little home near the beautiful reach -of river, domestic storms—sad object-lesson to an only -child—raged frequently over the parental truck and -barter at the booths of Vanity Fair.</p> - -<p>Though not a beauty—for the smallpox, that stole -the bloom from the cheeks of many a sparkling belle -in hoop and brocade, had set its seal upon her face—the -portrait of Mary Blandy shows that she was comely. -Still, it is a picture in which there is a full contrast -between the light and shadows. Those fine glistening -black eyes of hers—like the beam of sunshine that -illumines a sombre chamber—made one forget the -absence of winsome charm in her features; yet their -radiance appeared to come through dark unfathomable -depths rather than as the reflection of an unclouded -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span> -soul. With warmth all blood may glow, with softness -every heart can beat, but some, like hers, must be compelled -by reciprocal power. Such, in her empty home, -was not possible. Even the love and devotion of her -parents gave merely a portion of their own essence. From -a greedy father she acquired the sacred lust, and learnt -from infancy to dream, with morbid longing, of her -future dower; while her mother encouraged a hunger -for vain and giddy pleasure, teaching unwittingly that -these must be bought at the expense of peace, or by -the sacrifice of truth. To a girl of wit and intelligence -in whose heart nature had not sown the seeds of -kindness, these lessons came as a crop of tares upon -a fruitful soil. But, as in the case of all women, there -was one hope of salvation. Indeed, since the passion -of her soul cried out with imperious command that she -should fulfil the destiny of her sex, the love of husband -and children would have found her a strong but pliable -material that could be fashioned into more gentle -form. Without such influence she was one of those to -whom womanhood was insufferable—a mortal shape -where lay encaged one of the fiercest demons of discontent.</p> - -<p>Molly Blandy did not lack admirers. Being pleasant -and vivacious—while her powers of attraction were -enhanced by the rumour of her fortune—not a few of -the beaux in the fashionable world of Bath, and county -society at Reading, gave homage and made her their -toast. In the eyes of her parents it was imperative -that a suitor should be able to offer to their daughter -a station of life befitting an heiress. On this account -two worthy swains, who were agreeable to the maiden -but could not provide the expected dower, received -a quick dismissal. Although there was nothing exorbitant -in the ambition of the attorney and his dame, -it is clear that the girl learnt an evil lesson from -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> -these mercenary transactions. Still, her crosses in -love do not seem to have sunk very deeply into her -heart, but henceforth her conduct lost a little of its -maidenly reserve. The freedom of the coquette took -the place of the earnestness and sincerity that had -been the mark of her ardent nature, and her conduct -towards the officers of the regiment stationed -at Henley was deemed too forward. However, the -father, whose reception into military circles no doubt -made the desired impression upon his mayor and -aldermen, was well satisfied that his daughter should -be on familiar terms with her soldier friends. Even -when she became betrothed to a captain of no -great fortune, he offered small objection on account -of the position of the young man. Yet, although -the prospect of a son-in-law who held the king’s commission -had satisfied his vanity, the old lawyer, who -foolishly had allowed the world to believe him richer -than he was, could not, or (as he pretended) would not, -provide a sufficient dowry. Thus the engagement -promised to be a long one. Fate, however, decided -otherwise. Very soon her suitor was ordered abroad -on active service, and the hope of marriage faded -away for the third time.</p> - -<p>In the summer of 1746, while no doubt she was sighing -for her soldier across the seas, the man destined to work -the tragic mischief of her life appeared on the scene. -William Henry Cranstoun, a younger son of the fifth -Lord Cranstoun, a Scottish baron, was a lieutenant of -marines, who, since his regiment had suffered severely -during the late Jacobite rebellion, had come to Henley -on a recruiting expedition. At first his attentions to -Miss Blandy bore no fruit, but he returned the following -summer, and while staying with his grand-uncle, General -Lord Mark Kerr, who was an acquaintance of the lawyer -and his family, he found that Mary was off with the old -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span> -love and willing to welcome him as the new. All were -amazed that the fastidious girl should forsake her gallant -captain for this little sprig from North Britain—an -undersized spindleshanks, built after Beau Diddapper -pattern—in whose weak eyes and pock-fretten features -love must vainly seek her mirror. Still greater was the -astonishment when ten-thousand-pound Blandy, swollen -with importance, began to babble of “my Lord of -Crailing,” and the little bugle cap of his dame quivered -with pride as she told her gossips of “my Lady Cranstoun, -my daughter’s new mamma.” For it was common -knowledge that the small Scot was the fifth son of a -needy house, with little more than his pay to support -his many vicious and extravagant habits. Such details -seem to have been overlooked by the vain parents -in their delight at the honour and glory of an alliance -with a family of title. In the late autumn of 1747 they -invited their prospective son-in-law to their home, where, -as no one was fonder of free quarters, he remained for -six months. But the cruel fate that presided over the -destinies of the unfortunate Mary intervened once more. -Honest Lord Mark Kerr (whose prowess as a duellist -is chronicled in many a page), perceiving the intentions -of his unscrupulous relative, made haste to give his -lawyer friend the startling news that Cranstoun was a -married man.</p> - -<p>This information was correct. Yet, although wedded -since the year before the rebellion, the vicious little -Scot was seeking to put away the charming lady who -was his wife and the mother of his child. Plain enough -were the motives. A visit to England had taught him -that the title which courtesy permitted him to bear was -a commercial asset that, south of the Tweed, would -enable him to sell himself in a better market. As one -of his biographers tells us, “he saw young sparklers -every day running off with rich prizes,” for the chapels -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span> -of Wilkinson and Keith were always ready to assist the -abductor of an heiress. Indeed, before his arrival at -Henley, he had almost succeeded in capturing the -daughter of a Leicestershire squire, when the father, -who suddenly learnt his past history, sent him about -his business. Still, he persisted in his attempts to get -the Scotch marriage annulled, and his chances seemed -favourable. Most of the relatives of his wife, who -had espoused the losing side in the late rebellion, were -fled in exile to France or Flanders. Moreover, she -belonged to the Catholic Church, which at that time in -stern Presbyterian Scotland had fallen upon evil days. -Believing that she was alone and friendless, and relying, -no doubt, upon the sectarian prejudices of the law -courts, he set forth the base lie that he had promised to -marry her only on condition she became Protestant. -His explanation to the Blandys, in answer to Lord -Mark’s imputation, was the same as his defence before -the Scottish Commissaries. The lady was his mistress, -not his wife!</p> - -<p>Miss Blandy took the same view of the case that -Sophy Western did under similar circumstances. -Human nature was little different in those days, but -men wore their hearts on their sleeve instead of exhibiting -them only in the Courts, and women preferred to be -deemed complacent rather than stupid. Doubtless old -lawyer Blandy grunted many Saxon sarcasms at the -expense of Scotch jurisprudence, and trembled lest son-in-law -Diddapper had been entangled beyond redemption. -Still, father, mother, and daughter believed the -word of their guest, waiting anxiously for the result of -the litigation that was to make him a free man. During -the year 1748 the Commissaries at Edinburgh decided -that Captain Cranstoun and the ill-used Miss Murray -were man and wife. Then the latter, being aware of the -flirtation at Henley, wrote to warn Miss Blandy, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span> -provided her with a copy of the Court’s decree. Great -was the consternation at the house on the London road. -Visions of tea-gossip over the best set of china in the -long parlour at Crailing with my Lady Cranstoun -vanished from the old mother’s eyes, while the town -clerk forgot his dreams of the baby whose two grand-fathers -were himself and a live lord. Nevertheless, the -young Scotsman protested that the marriage was invalid, -declared that he would appeal to the highest tribunal, -and swore eternal fidelity to his Mary. Alas, she -trusted him! Within the sombre depths of her soul -there dwelt a fierce resolve to make this man her own. -In her sight he was no graceless creature from the -barrack-room, but with a great impersonal love she -sought in him merely the fulfilment of her destiny.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“In her first passion, woman loves her lover:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In all the others, all she loves is love.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>At this time Cranstoun’s fortunes were in a parlous -state. More than half of his slender patrimony had -been sequestered for the maintenance of his wife and -child, and shortly after the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, his -regiment being disbanded, he was left on half-pay. -Still, he did not waver in his purpose to win the heiress -of Henley.</p> - -<p>On the 30th of September 1749, the poor frivolous old -head, which had sported its cap so bravely amidst the -worries of pretentious poverty, lay still upon the pillow, -and Mary Blandy looked upon the face of her dead mother. -It was the turning-point in her career. While his wife -was alive, the old lawyer had never lost all faith in his -would-be son-in-law during the two years that he had -been affianced to his daughter, in spite of the rude -shocks which had staggered his credulity. Cranstoun -had been allowed to sponge on him for another six -months in the previous summer, and had pursued his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span> -womenfolk when they paid a visit to Mary’s uncle, -Serjeant Stevens, of Doctors’ Commons. However, -soon after the death of his wife the patience of Mr -Blandy, who must have perceived that the case of the -pretender was hopeless, seems to have become worn -out. All idea of the baron’s grandchild faded from his -mind; the blear-eyed lover was forbidden the house, -and for nearly twelve months did not meet his trusting -sweetheart.</p> - -<p>Although a woman of her intelligence must have -perceived that, but for some untoward event, her -relationship with her betrothed could never be one of -honour, her fidelity remained unshaken. Having passed -her thirtieth birthday, the dreadful stigma of spinsterhood -was fast falling upon her. If the methods of -analogy are of any avail, it is clear that she had -become a creature of lust—not the lust of sensuality, -but that far more insatiable greed, the craving for conquest, -possession, the attainment of the unattainable, -calling forth not one but all the emotions of body and -soul. A sacrifice of honour—a paltry thing in the face -of such mighty passion—would have been no victory, for -such in itself was powerless to accomplish the essential -metamorphosis of her life. In mutual existence with a -lover and slave the destiny of this rare woman alone -could be achieved. Thus came the harvest of the -tempest. It was not the criminal negligence of the -father in encouraging for nearly three years the pretensions -of a suitor, who—so a trustworthy gentleman had -told him—was a married man, that had planted the seeds -of storm. Nor did the filial love of the daughter begin -to fade and wither because she had been taught that -the affections, like anything which has a price, should -be subject to barter and exchange. Deeper far lay the -roots of the malignant disease—growing as a portion of -her being—a part and principle of life itself. Environment -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span> -and education merely had inclined into its stunted -form the twig, which could never bear fruit unless grafted -upon a new stalk! And while the sombre girl brooded -over her strange impersonal passion, there rang in her -ears the voice of demon-conscience, unceasingly—a -taunting, frightful whisper, “When the old man is in his -grave you shall be happy.”</p> - -<p>The esteem of posterity for the eighteenth century, -to which belong so many noble lives and great minds, -has been influenced by the well-deserved censure -bestowed upon a particular epoch. The year 1750 -marks a period of transition when all the worst characteristics -of the Georgian era were predominant. For -nearly a quarter of a century the scornful glance that -the boorish little king threw at any book had been -reflected in the national taste for literature. Art had -hobbled along bravely on the crutches of caricature, -tolerated on account of its deformity, and not for its -worth. The drama, which had drifted to the lowest ebb -in the days of Rich and Heidegger, was just rising -from its mudbank, under the leadership of Garrick, -with the turn of the tide. Religion, outside the pale -of Methodism, was as dead as the influence of the -Church of England and its plurality divines. The prostitution -of the marriage laws in the Fleet and Savoy had -grown to be a menace to the social fabric. London -reeked of gin; and although the business of Jack Ketch -has been seldom more flourishing, property, until -magistrate Fielding came forward, was never less secure -from the thief and highwayman. Our second George, -who flaunted his mistresses before the public gaze, was -a worthy leader of a coarse and vicious society. Female -dress took its form from the vulgarity of the times, and -was never uglier and more indecent simultaneously. -Not only was the ‘modern fine lady,’ who wept when -a handsome thief was hung, a common type, but the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span> -Boobys and Bellastons were fashionable women of the -day, quite as much alive as Elizabeth Chudleigh or -Caroline Fitzroy. Such was the age of Miss Blandy, -and she proved a worthy daughter of it.</p> - -<p>In the late summer of 1750 the fickle attorney, who -had become weary of opposition, consented to withdraw -the sentence of banishment he had pronounced against -his daughter’s lover. Possibly he fancied that there -was a chance, after all, of the Scotch lieutenant’s success -in the curious law-courts of the North, and perhaps a -present of salmon, received from Lady Cranstoun, -appeared to him as a favourable augury. Consequently -the needy fortune-hunter, who was only too ready to -return to his free quarters, paid another lengthy visit to -Henley. As the weeks passed, it was evident that the -temper of the host and father, whose senile humours -were swayed by gravel and heartburn, could not support -the new ménage. Fearful lest the devotion of his Molly -had caused her to lose all regard for her fair fame, wroth -that the clumsy little soldier should have disturbed the -peace of his household, the old man received every -mention of “the tiresome affair in Scotland” with sneers -and gibes. Vanished was the flunkey-optimism that had -led him to welcome once more the pertinacious slip of -Scottish baronage. Naught would have appeased him -but prompt evidence that the suitor was free to lead his -daughter to the altar. Nothing could be plainer than -that the querulous widower had lost all confidence in his -unwelcome guest.</p> - -<p>The faithful lovers were filled with dismay. A few -strokes of the pen might rob them for ever of their -ten thousand pounds. Their wishes were the same, -their minds worked as one. A deep, cruel soul-blot, -transmitted perhaps by some cut-throat borderer through -the blood of generations, would have led William -Cranstoun to commit, without scruple, the vilest of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span> -crimes. Those base attempts to put away his wife, and -to cast the stigma of bastardy upon his child, added to -his endeavour to entrap one heiress after another into a -bigamous marriage, make him guilty of offences less -only than murder. In his present position he had cause -for desperation. Yet, although utterly broken in fortune, -there was a rich treasure at his hand if he dared to seize -it. Were her father dead, Molly Blandy, whether as -wife or mistress, would be his—body, soul, and wealth. -Within the veins of the woman a like heart-stain spread -its poison. All the lawless passion of her nature cried -out against her parent’s rule, which, to her mind, was -seeking to banish what had become more precious than -her life. Knowing that her own fierce will had its -mate in his, she believed that his obduracy could not be -conquered, and she lived in dread lest she should be -disinherited. And all this time, day after day, the -demon-tempter whispered, “When the old man is in his -grave you shall be happy.”</p> - -<p>Which of the guilty pair was the first to suggest the -heartless crime it is impossible to ascertain, but there is -evidence, apart from Miss Blandy’s statement, that -Cranstoun was the leading spirit. Possibly, nay -probably, the deed was never mentioned in brutal -plainness in so many words. The history of crime -affords many indications that the blackest criminals are -obliged to soothe a neurotic conscience with the anodyne -of make-belief. It is quite credible that the two spoke -of the projected murder from the first (as indeed Miss -Blandy explained it later) as an attempt to conciliate -the old lawyer by administering a supernatural love -philtre, having magical qualities like Oberon’s flower in -<i>A Midsummer Night’s Dream</i>, which would make him -consent to their marriage. Presently a reign of mystic -terror seemed to invade the little house in the London -road. With fear ever present in her eyes, the figure -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> -of the sombre woman glided from room to room, -whispering to the frightened servants ghostly tales of -things supernatural—of unearthly music that she had -heard during the misty autumn nights, of noises that -had awakened her from sleep, of the ghastly apparitions -that had appeared to her lover. And to all these -stories she had but one dismal interpretation—saying -it had come to her from a wizard-woman in Scotland—they -were signs and tokens that her father would die -within a year! Those who heard her listened and -trembled, and the words sank deep into their memory. -So the winter crept on; but while all slunk through the -house with bated breath, shrinking at each mysterious -sound, the old man, doomed by the sorceress, remained -unsuspicious of what was going on around him.</p> - -<p>Not long before Christmas, to the great relief of his -churlish host, the little Scotsman’s clumsy legs passed -through the front door for the last time, and he set out -for his brother’s seat at Crailing in the shire of -Roxburgh. Yet, though his lengthy visit had come to -an end, his spirit remained to rule the brain of the -woman who loved him. Early in the year 1751 she -received a box, containing a present from Cranstoun, -a set of table linen, and some ‘Scotch pebbles.’ Lawyer -Blandy viewed the stones with suspicious eyes, for he -hated all things beyond the Cheviot Hills, but did not -make any comment. The relationship between father -and daughter had become cold and distant. Quarrels -were constant in the unhappy home. Often in the -midst of her passion she was heard to mutter deep -curses against the old man. Indeed, so banished was -her love that she talked without emotion to the servants -of the likelihood of his death, in fulfilment of the witch’s -prophecy.</p> - -<p>Some weeks later, when another consignment of the -mysterious ‘Scotch pebbles’ had arrived for Miss -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span> -Blandy, it was noticed that her conduct became still -more dark and strange. Slinking through the house -with slow and stealthy tread, she appeared to shun all -eyes, as though bent upon some hidden purpose. A -glance within the box from the North would have -revealed the secret. When the crafty accomplice found -that she was unable to procure the means of taking -her father’s life, he had been forced to supply her with -the weapons. During the spring, the health of the old -lawyer, who suffered more or less from chronic ailments, -began to grow more feeble. His garments hung loosely -upon his shrunken limbs, while the teeth dropped from -his palsied jaws. The old witch’s curse seemed to have -fallen upon the home, and, to those who looked with -apprehension for every sign and portent, it was fulfilled -in many direful ways. Early in June, Ann Emmet, an -old charwoman employed about the house, was seized -with a violent illness after drinking from a half-emptied -cup left at Mr Blandy’s breakfast. A little later, Susan -Gunnel, one of the maid-servants, was affected in a -similar way through taking some tea prepared for her -master. One August morning, in the secrecy of her -own chamber, trembling at every footfall beyond the -locked door, Mary Blandy gazed with eager, awestruck -eyes upon a message sent by her lover.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry there are such occasions to clean your -pebbles,” wrote the murderous little Scotsman. “You -must make use of the powder to them, by putting it into -anything of substance, wherein it will not swim a-top -of the water, of which I wrote to you in one of my last. -I am afraid it will be too weak to take off their rust, or -at least it will take too long a time.”</p> - -<p>From the language of metaphor it is easy to translate -the ghastly meaning. She must have told Cranstoun -that the white arsenic, which he had sent to her under -the pseudonym of ‘powder to clean the pebbles,’ -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span> -remained floating on the surface of the tea. Possibly -her father had noticed this phenomenon, and, not caring -to drink the liquid, had escaped the painful sickness -which had attacked the less cautious servants. But now -she had found a remedy—‘anything of substance!’—a -safe and sure vehicle that could not fail. Louder -still in the ears of the lost woman rang the mocking -words, “When the old man is dead you shall be -happy.”</p> - -<p>During the forenoon of Monday, the 5th of August, -Susan Gunnel, the maid, met her young mistress coming -from the pantry.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Susan,” she exclaimed, “I have been stirring -my papa’s water gruel”; and then, perceiving other -servants through the half-open door of the laundry, she -added gaily, “If I was ever to take to eating anything -in particular it would be oatmeal.”</p> - -<p>No response came from the discreet Susan, but she -marvelled, calling to mind that Miss Blandy had said to -her some time previously, noticing that she appeared -unwell:</p> - -<p>“Have you been eating any water gruel? for I am -told that water gruel hurts me, and it may hurt you.”</p> - -<p>Later in the day, her wonder was increased when she -saw her mistress stirring the gruel in a half-pint mug, -putting her fingers into the spoon, and then rubbing -them together. In the evening the same mug was taken -as usual to the old man’s bedroom. On Tuesday night -Miss Blandy sent down in haste to order gruel for her -father, who had been indisposed all day, and such was -her solicitude that she met the footman on the stairs, -and taking the basin from his hands, carried it herself -into the parlour. Early the next morning, while Ann -Emmet, the old charwoman, was busy at her wash-tub, -Susan Gunnel came from upstairs.</p> - -<p>“Dame,” she observed, “you used to be fond of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> -water gruel. Here is a very fine mess my master left -last night, and I believe it will do you good.”</p> - -<p>Sitting down upon a bench, this most unfortunate old -lady proceeded to consume the contents of the basin, and -for a second time was seized with a strange and violent -illness. Soon afterwards Miss Blandy came into the -kitchen.</p> - -<p>“Susan, as your master has taken physic, he may -want some more water gruel,” said she. “As there is -some in the house you need not make fresh, for you are -ironing.”</p> - -<p>“Madam, it will be stale,” replied the servant. “It -will not hinder me much to make fresh.”</p> - -<p>A little later, while tasting the stuff, Susan noticed -a white sediment at the bottom of the pan. Greatly -excited, she ran to show Betty Binfield, the cook, who -bore no good-will towards her young mistress.</p> - -<p>“What oatmeal is this?” asked Betty, significantly. -“It looks like flour.”</p> - -<p>“I have never seen oatmeal as white before,” said the -maid.</p> - -<p>Carefully and thoroughly the suspicious servants -examined the contents of the saucepan, taking it out of -doors to view it in the light. And while they looked at -the white gritty sediment they told each other in low -whispers that this must be poison. Locking up the pan, -they showed it next day to the local apothecary, who, -as usual in those times, was the sick man’s medical -attendant.</p> - -<p>Nothing occurred to alarm the guilty woman until -Saturday. On that morning, in the homely fashion of -middle-class manners, the lawyer, who wanted to shave, -came into the kitchen, where hot water and a good fire -were ready for him. Accustomed to his habits, the -servants went about their work as usual. Some trouble -seemed to be preying upon his mind. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span></p> - -<p>“I was like to have been poisoned once,” piped the -feeble old man, turning his bloodshot eyes upon his -daughter, who was in the room.</p> - -<p>“It was on this same day, the tenth of August,” he -continued, in his weak, trembling voice, for his frame -had become shattered during the last week. “It was -at the coffee-house or at the Lyon, and two other -gentlemen were like to have been poisoned by what -they drank.”</p> - -<p>“Sir, I remember it very well,” replied the imperturbable -woman, and then fell to arguing with her -querulous father at which tavern the adventure had -taken place.</p> - -<p>“One of the gentlemen died immediately,” he resumed, -looking at her with a long, reproachful glance. -“The other is dead now, and I have survived them -both. But”—his piteous gaze grew more intense—“it is -my fortune to be poisoned at last.”</p> - -<p>A similar ordeal took place in a little while. At -breakfast Mr Blandy seemed in great pain, making -many complaints. As he sipped his tea, he declared -that it had a gritty, bad taste, and would not drink it.</p> - -<p>“Have you not put too much of the black stuff into -it?” he demanded suddenly of his daughter, referring to -the canister of Bohea.</p> - -<p>This time she was unable to meet his searching -eyes.</p> - -<p>“It is as usual,” she stammered in confusion.</p> - -<p>A moment later she rose, trembling and distressed, and -hurriedly left the room.</p> - -<p>There was reason for the old man’s suspicion. Before -he had risen from his bed, the faithful Susan Gunnel -told him of the discovery in the pan of water gruel, and -both agreed that the mysterious powder had been sent -by Cranstoun. Yet, beyond what he had said at breakfast, -and in the kitchen, he questioned his daughter no -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> -more! Still, although no direct charge had been made, -alarmed by her father’s hints she hastened to destroy -all evidence that could be used against her. During -the afternoon, stealing into the kitchen under pretence -of drying a letter before the fire, she crushed a paper -among the coals. As soon as she was gone the watchful -spies—servants Gunnel and Binfield—snatched it away -before it had been destroyed by the flames. This -paper contained a white substance, and on it was written -‘powder to clean the pebbles.’ Towards evening -famous Dr Addington arrived from Reading, summoned -by Miss Blandy, who was driven on account of her fears -to show a great concern. After seeing his patient the -shrewd old leech had no doubt as to the symptoms. -With habitual directness he told the daughter that her -father had been poisoned.</p> - -<p>“It is impossible,” she replied.</p> - -<p>On Sunday morning the doctor found the sick -man a little better, but ordered him to keep his bed. -Startling proofs of the accuracy of his diagnosis -were forthcoming. One of the maids put into his -hands the packet of arsenic found in the fire; while -Norton the apothecary produced the powder from the -pan of gruel. Addington at once took the guilty -woman to task.</p> - -<p>“If your father dies,” he told her sternly, “you will -inevitably be ruined.”</p> - -<p>Nevertheless she appears to have brazened the matter -out, but desired the doctor to come again the next day. -When she was alone, her first task was to scribble a -note to Cranstoun, which she gave to her father’s clerk -to “put into the post.” Having heard dark rumours -whispered by the servants that Mr Blandy had been -poisoned by his daughter, the man had no hesitation -in opening the letter, which he handed over to the -apothecary. It ran as follows:— -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Willy</span>,—My father is so bad that I have only -time to tell you that if you do not hear from me soon -again, don’t be frightened. I am better myself. Lest -any accident should happen to your letters be careful -what you write.</p> - -<p>“My sincere compliments.—I am ever, yours.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>That evening Norton ordered Miss Blandy from her -father’s room, telling Susan Gunnel to remain on the -watch, and admit no one. At last the heartless daughter -must have seen that some other defence was needed than -blind denial. Still, the poor old sufferer persisted that -Cranstoun was the sole author of the mischief. On -Monday morning, although sick almost to death, he sent -the maid with a message to his daughter.</p> - -<p>“Tell her,” said he, “that I will forgive her if she -will bring that villain to justice.”</p> - -<p>In answer to his words, Miss Blandy came to her -father’s bedroom in tears, and a suppliant. Susan -Gunnel, who was present, thus reports the interview.</p> - -<p>“Sir, how do you do?” said she.</p> - -<p>“I am very ill,” he replied.</p> - -<p>Falling upon her knees, she said to him:</p> - -<p>“Banish me or send me to any remote part of the -world. As to Mr Cranstoun, I will never see him, speak -to him, as long as I live, so as you will forgive me.”</p> - -<p>“I forgive thee, my dear,” he answered. “And I hope -God will forgive thee, but thee should have considered -better than to have attempted anything against thy -father. Thee shouldst have considered I was thy own -father.”</p> - -<p>“Sir,” she protested, “as to your illness I am entirely -innocent.”</p> - -<p>“Madam,” interrupted old Susan Gunnel, “I believe -you must not say you are entirely innocent, for the -powder that was taken out of the water gruel, and the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> -paper of powder that was taken out of the fire, are now -in such hands that they must be publicly produced. I -believe I had one dose prepared for my master in a dish -of tea about six weeks ago.”</p> - -<p>“I have put no powder into tea,” replied Miss Blandy. -“I have put powder into water gruel, and if you are -injured,” she assured her father, “I am entirely innocent, -for it was given me with another intent.”</p> - -<p>The dying man did not wait for further explanation, -but, turning in his bed, he cried:</p> - -<p>“Oh, such a villain! To come to my house, eat of the -best, drink of the best that my house could afford—to take -away my life, and ruin my daughter! Oh, my dear,” he -continued, “thee must hate that man, thee must hate -the ground he treads on. Thee canst not help it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, sir, your tenderness towards me is like a sword -to my heart,” she answered. “Every word you say is like -swords piercing my heart—much worse than if you were -to be ever so angry. I must down on my knees and beg -you will not curse me.”</p> - -<p>“I curse thee, my dear!” he replied. “How couldst -thou think I could curse thee? I bless thee, and hope -that God will bless thee and amend thy life. Go, my -dear, go out of my room.... Say no more, lest thou -shouldst say anything to thy own prejudice.... Go -to thy uncle Stevens; take him for thy friend. Poor -man,—I am sorry for him.”</p> - -<p>The memory of the old servant, who repeated the -above conversation in her evidence at Miss Blandy’s -trial, would seem remarkable did we not bear in mind -that she went through various rehearsals before the -coroner and magistrates, and possibly with the lawyers -for the prosecution. Some embellishments also must -be credited to the taste and fancy of Mr Rivington’s -reporters. Still, the gist must be true, and certainly -has much pathos. Yet the father’s forgiveness of his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -daughter, when he must have known that her conduct -was wilful, although piteous and noble, may not have -been the result of pure altruism. Naturally, the wish that -Cranstoun alone was guilty was parent to the thought. -Whether the approach of eternity brought a softening -influence upon him, and he saw his follies and errors in -the light of repentance, or whether the ruling passion -strong in death made the vain old man struggle to avert -the black disgrace that threatened his good name, and -the keen legal intellect, which could counsel his daughter -so well, foresaw the coming escheatment of his small -estate to the lord of the manor, are problems for the -student of psychology.</p> - -<p>During the course of the day brother leech Lewis of -Oxford—a master-builder of pharmacopœia—was summoned -by the sturdy begetter of statesmen, and there -was much bobbing of learned wigs and nice conduct of -medical canes. Addington asked the dying man whom -he suspected to be the giver of the poison.</p> - -<p>“A poor love-sick girl,” murmured the old lawyer, -smiling through his tears. “I forgive her—I always -thought there was mischief in those cursed Scotch -pebbles.”</p> - -<p>In the evening a drastic step was taken. Acting on -the principle of ‘thorough,’ which made his son’s occupancy -of the Home Office so memorable at a later period, -the stern doctor accused Miss Blandy of the crime, and -secured her keys and papers. Conquered by fear, the -stealthy woman for a while lost all self-possession. In -an agony of shame and terror she sought to shield herself -by the pretence of superstitious folly. Wringing her -hands in a seeming agony of remorse, she declared that -her lover had ruined her.</p> - -<p>“I received the powder from Mr Cranstoun,” she -cried, “with a present of Scotch pebbles. He had wrote -on the paper that held it, ‘The powder to clean the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span> -pebbles with.’ He assured me that it was harmless, and -that if I would give my father some of it now and then, -a little and a little at a time, in any liquid, it would make -him kind to him and to me.”</p> - -<p>In a few scathing questions the worldly-wise Addington -cast ridicule upon this weird story of a love philtre. -Taking the law into his own resolute hands, with the consent -of colleague Lewis he locked the wretched woman in -her room and placed a guard over her. Little could be -done to relieve the sufferings of poor ten-thousand-pound -Blandy—who proved to be a mere four-thousand-pound -attorney when it came to the test—and on Wednesday -afternoon, the 14th of August, he closed his proud old -eyes for ever. In her desperation the guilty daughter -could think of naught but escape. On the evening of her -fathers death, impelled by an irresistible frenzy to flee -from the scene of her butchery, she begged the footman -in vain to assist her to get away. During Thursday -morning—for it was not possible to keep her in custody -without legal warrant—a little group of children saw a -dishevelled figure coming swiftly along the High Street -towards the river. At once there arose the cry of -‘Murderess!’ and, surrounded by an angry mob, she was -driven to take refuge in a neighbouring inn. It was vain -to battle against fate. That same afternoon the coroner’s -inquest was held, and the verdict pronounced her a parricide. -On the following Saturday, in charge of two -constables, she was driven in her father’s carriage to -Oxford Castle. An enraged populace, thinking that she -was trying again to escape, surrounded the vehicle, and -sought to prevent her from leaving the town.</p> - -<p>Owing to the social position of the accused, and the -enormity of her offence, the eyes of the whole nation -were turned to the tragedy at Henley. Gossips of the -day, such as Horace Walpole and Tate Wilkinson, tell -us that the story of Miss Blandy was upon every lip. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> -In spite of the noble irony of ‘Drawcansir’ Fielding, -journalists and pamphleteers had no scruple in referring -to the prisoner as a wicked murderess or a cruel parricide. -Yet the case of Henry Coleman, who, during the -August of this year, had been proved innocent of a -crime for which he had suffered death, should have -warned the public against hasty assumption. For six -months the dark woman was waiting for her trial. -Although it was the custom for a jailor to make an -exhibition of his captive to anyone who would pay the -entrance fee, nobody was allowed to see Miss Blandy -without her consent. Two comfortable rooms were set -apart for her in the keeper’s house; she was free to take -walks in the garden, and to have her own maid. At -last, when stories of a premeditated escape were noised -abroad, Secretary Newcastle, in a usual state of fuss, -fearing that she might repeat the achievement of Queen -Maud, gave orders that she must be put in irons. At -first Thomas Newell, who had succeeded her father as -town clerk of Henley four years previously, was employed -in her defence, but he offended her by speaking -of Cranstoun as “a mean-looking, little, ugly fellow,” and -so she dismissed him in favour of Mr Rives, a lawyer -from Woodstock. Her old invincible courage had returned, -and only once—when she learnt the paltry value -of her father’s fortune—did she lose self-possession. For -a dismal echo must have come back in the mocking words, -“When the old man is in his grave you shall be happy.”</p> - -<p>At last the magistrates—Lords Cadogan and ‘New-Style’ -Macclesfield, who had undertaken duties which -in later days Mr Newton or Mr Montagu Williams would -have shared with Scotland Yard—finish their much-praised -detective work, and on Tuesday, the 3rd of March -1752, Mary Blandy is brought to the bar. The Court -meets in the divinity school, since the town-hall is -in the hands of the British workman, and because the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> -University, so ‘Sir Alexander Drawcansir’ tells his -readers, will not allow the use of the Sheldonian Theatre. -Why the most beautiful room in Oxford should be -deemed a fitter place of desecration than the archbishop’s -monstrosity is not made clear. An accident -delays the trial—this second ‘Great Oyer of Poisoning!’ -There is a small stone or other obstruction in the lock—can -some sentimental, wry-brained undergraduate -think to aid the gallows-heroine of his fancy?—and -while it is being removed, Judges Legge and Smythe -return to their lodgings.</p> - -<div id="i_023" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_023.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption large"><i>THE DIVINITY SCHOOL, OXFORD.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>At eight o’clock, Mary Blandy, calm and stately, -stands beneath the graceful fretted ceiling, facing the -tribunal. From wall to wall an eager crowd has filled -the long chamber, surging through the doorway, flowing -in at the open windows, jostling even against the prisoner. -A chair is placed for her in case of fatigue, and her maid -is by her side. A plain and neat dress befits her serene -manner—a black bombazine short <i>sacque</i> (the garb of -mourning), white linen kerchief, and a thick crape shade -and hood. From the memory of those present her -countenance can never fade. A broad high forehead, -above which her thick jet hair is smoothed under a cap; -a pair of fine black sparkling eyes; the colouring almost -of a gipsy; cheeks with scarce a curve; mouth full, but -showing no softness; nose large, straight, determined—it -is the face of one of those rare women who command, -not the love, but the obedience of mankind. Still it is -intelligent, not unseductive, compelling; and yet, in -spite of the deep, flashing eyes, without radiance of soul—the -face of a sombre-hearted woman.</p> - -<p>Black, indeed, is the indictment that Bathurst, a -venerable young barrister who represents the Crown, -unfolds against her, but only once during his burst of -carefully-matured eloquence is there any change in her -serenity. When the future Lord Chancellor declares -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> -that the base Cranstoun “had fallen in love, not with -her, but with her fortune,” the woman’s instinct cannot -tolerate the reflection upon her charms, and she darts a -look of bitterest scorn upon the speaker. And only once -does she show a trace of human softness. When her -godmother, old Mrs Mountenay, is leaving the witness-box, -she repeats the curtsey which the prisoner had -previously disregarded, and then, in an impulse of pity, -presses forward, and, seizing Miss Blandy’s hand, exclaims, -“God bless you!” At last, and for the first -time, the tears gather in the accused woman’s eyes.</p> - -<p>Many abuses, handed down from a previous century, -still render barbarous the procedure of criminal trials. -The case is hurried over in one day; counsel for the -prisoner can only examine witnesses, but not address the -jury; the prosecution is accustomed to put forward -evidence of which the defence has been kept in ignorance. -Yet no injustice is done to Mary Blandy. Thirteen -hours is enough to tear the veil from her sombre -heart; the tongue of Nestor would fail to show her -innocent; of all that her accusers can say of her she -is well aware. Never for one moment is the issue -in doubt. What can her scoffing, sceptic age, with its -cold-blooded sentiment and tame romance, think of a -credulity that employed a love-potion in the guise of -affection but with the result of death! How is it -possible to judge a daughter who persisted in her black -art, although its dire effects were visible, not once, but -many times! Her defence, when at last it comes, is -spoken bravely, but better had been left unsaid.</p> - -<p>“My lords,” she begins, “it is morally impossible for -me to lay down the hardships I have received. -I have been aspersed in my character. In the first -place, it has been said that I have spoke ill of my -father; that I have cursed him and wished him at hell; -which is extremely false. Sometimes little family affairs -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -have happened, and he did not speak to me so kind as I -could wish. I own I am passionate, my lords, and in -those passions some hasty expressions might have dropt. -But great care has been taken to recollect every word -I have spoken at different times, and to apply them to -such particular purposes as my enemies knew would do -me the greatest injury. These are hardships, my lords, -extreme hardships!—such as you yourselves must allow -to be so. It was said, too, my lords, that I endeavoured -to make my escape. Your lordships will judge from the -difficulties I laboured under. I had lost my father—I -was accused of being his murderer—I was not permitted -to go near him—I was forsaken by my friends—affronted -by the mob—insulted by my servants. Although I -begged to have the liberty to listen at the door where he -died, I was not allowed it. My keys were taken from -me, my shoe-buckles and garters too—to prevent me -from making away with myself, as though I was the -most abandoned creature. What could I do, my lords? -I verily believe I was out of my senses. When I heard -my father was dead and the door open, I ran out of the -house, and over the bridge, and had nothing on but a half -sack and petticoat, without a hoop, my petticoats hanging -about me. The mob gathered about me. Was this -a condition, my lords, to make my escape in? A good -woman beyond the bridge, seeing me in this distress, -desired me to walk in till the mob was dispersed. The -town sergeant was there. I begged he would take me -under his protection to have me home. The woman said -it was not proper, the mob was very great, and that I -had better stay a little. When I came home they said -I used the constable ill. I was locked up for fifteen -hours, with only an old servant of the family to attend -me. I was not allowed a maid for the common decencies -of my sex. I was sent to gaol, and was in hopes, there, -at least, this usage would have ended, but was told it -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -was reported I was frequently drunk—that I attempted to -make my escape—that I never attended the chapel. A -more abstemious woman, my lords, I believe, does not live.</p> - -<p>“Upon the report of my making my escape, the gentleman -who was High Sheriff last year (not the present) -came and told me, by order of the higher powers, he -must put an iron on me. I submitted, as I always do to -the higher powers. Some time after, he came again, and -said he must put a heavier upon me, which I have -worn, my lords, till I came hither. I asked the Sheriff -why I was so ironed? He said he did it by command -of some noble peer, on his hearing that I intended to -make my escape. I told them I never had such a -thought, and I would bear it with the other cruel usage -I had received on my character. The Rev. Mr. -Swinton, the worthy clergyman who attended me in -prison, can testify that I was very regular at the chapel -when I was well. Sometimes I really was not able to -come out, and then he attended me in my room. They -likewise published papers and depositions which ought -not to have been published, in order to represent me as -the most abandoned of my sex, and to prejudice the -world against me. I submit myself to your lordships, -and to the worthy jury. I can assure your lordships, as -I am to answer it before that Grand Tribunal where I -must appear, I am as innocent as the child unborn of the -death of my father. I would not endeavour to save my -life at the expense of truth. I really thought the powder -an innocent, inoffensive thing, and I gave it to procure -his love. It was mentioned, I should say, I was ruined. -My lords, when a young woman loses her character, is -not that her ruin? Why, then, should this expression -be construed in so wide a sense? Is it not ruining my -character to have such a thing laid to my charge? And -whatever may be the event of this trial, I am ruined -most effectually.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span></p> - -<p>A strange apology—amazing in its effrontery!</p> - -<p>Gentle Heneage Legge speaks long and tenderly, -while the listeners shudder with horror as they hear the -dismal history unfolded in all entirety for the first time. -No innocent heart could have penned that last brief -warning to her lover—none but an accomplice would -have received his cryptic message. Every word in the -testimony of the stern doctor seems to hail her parricide—every -action of her stealthy career has been noted -by the watchful eyes of her servants. And, as if in -damning confirmation of her guilt, there is the black -record of her flight from the scene of crime. Eight -o’clock has sounded when the judge has finished. For -a few moments the jury converse in hurried whispers. -It is ominous that they make no attempt to leave the -court, but merely draw closer together. Then, after -the space of five minutes they turn, and the harsh -tones of the clerk of arraigns sound through the -chamber.</p> - -<p>“Mary Blandy, hold up thy hand.... Gentlemen of -the jury, look upon the prisoner. How say you: Is -Mary Blandy guilty of the felony and murder whereof -she stands indicted, or not guilty?”</p> - -<p>“Guilty!” comes the low, reluctant answer.</p> - -<p>Never has more piteous drama been played within -the cold fair walls of the divinity school than that -revealed by the guttering candles on this chill March -night. Amidst the long black shadows, through which -gleam countless rows of pallid faces, in the deep silence, -broken at intervals by hushed sobs, the invincible -woman stands with unruffled mien to receive her -sentence. As the verdict is declared, a smile seems to -play upon her lips. While the judge, with tearful eyes -and broken voice, pronounces her doom, she listens -without a sign of fear. There is a brief, breathless -pause, while all wait with fierce-beating hearts for her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> -reply. No trace of terror impedes her utterance. -Thanking the judge for his candour and impartiality, -she turns to her counsel, among whom only Richard -Aston rose to eminence, and, with a touch of pretty -forethought, wishes them better success in their other -causes. Then, and her voice grows more solemn, she -begs for a little time to settle her affairs and to make -her peace with God. To which his lordship replies -with great emotion:</p> - -<p>“To be sure, you shall have proper time allowed -you.”</p> - -<p>When she is conducted from the court she steps -into her coach with the air of a belle whose chair is to -take her to a fashionable rout. The fatal news has -reached the prison before her arrival. As she enters -the keeper’s house, which for so long has been her -home, she finds the family overcome with grief and -the children all in tears.</p> - -<p>“Don’t mind it,” she cries, cheerfully. “What does -it matter? I am very hungry. Pray let me have -something for supper as soon as possible.”</p> - -<p>That sombre heart of hers is a brave one also.</p> - -<p>All this time William Cranstoun, worthy brother in -all respects of Simon Tappertit, had been in hiding—in -Scotland perhaps, or, as some say, in Northumberland—watching -with fearful quakings for the result of the -trial. Shortly after the conviction of his accomplice he -managed to take ship to the Continent, and luckily for -his country he never polluted its soil again. There are -several contemporary accounts of his adventures in -France and in the Netherlands, to which the curious -may refer. All agree that he confessed his share in the -murder when he was safe from justice. With unaccustomed -propriety, our Lady Fate soon hastened to snap -the thread of his existence, and on the 3rd of December -of this same year, at the little town of Furnes in Flanders, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> -aged thirty-eight, he drew his last breath. A short -time before, being seized with remorse for his sins, he -had given the Catholic Church the honour of enrolling -him a proselyte. Indeed the conversion of so great a -ruffian was regarded as such a feather in their cap that -the good monks and friars advertised the event by -means of a sumptuous funeral.</p> - -<p>Worthy Judge Legge fulfils his promise to the -unhappy Miss Blandy, and she is given six weeks in -which to prepare herself for death. Meek and more -softened is the sombre woman, who, like a devoted -penitent, submits herself day after day to the vulgar -gaze of a hundred eyes, while she bows in all humility -before the altar of her God. Yet her busy brain is -aware that those to whom she looks for intercession are -keeping a careful watch upon her demeanour. For she -has begged her godmother Mrs Mountenay to ask -one of the bishops to speak for her; she is said to -entertain the hope that the recently-bereaved Princess -will endeavour to obtain a reprieve. In the fierce war -of pamphleteers, inevitable in those days, she takes her -share, playing with incomparable tact to the folly of the -credulous. Although the majority, perhaps, believe her -guilty, she knows that a considerable party is in her -favour. On the 20th of March is published “A Letter -from a Clergyman to Miss Blandy, with her Answer,” -in which she tells the story of her share in the tragedy. -During the remainder of her imprisonment she extends -this narrative into a long account of the whole case—assisted, -it is believed, by her spiritual adviser, the -Rev. John Swinton, who, afflicted possibly by one of -his famous fits of woolgathering, seems convinced of -her innocence. No human effort, however, is of any -avail. Both the second and third George, knowing their -duty as public entertainers, seldom cheated the gallows -of a victim of distinction. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span></p> - -<p>Originally the execution had been fixed for Saturday, -the 4th of April, but is postponed until the following -Monday, because the University authorities do not think -it seemly that the sentence shall be carried out during -Holy Week. A great crowd collects in the early -morning outside the prison walls before the announcement -of the short reprieve, and it speaks marvels for -the discipline of the gaol that Miss Blandy is allowed -to go up into rooms facing the Castle Green so that -she can view the throng. Gazing upon the assembly -without a tremor, she says merely that she will not -balk their expectations much longer. On Sunday she -takes sacrament for the last time, and signs a declaration -in which she denies once more all knowledge that the -powder was poisonous. In the evening, hearing that -the Sheriff has arrived in the town, she sends a request -that she may not be disturbed until eight o’clock the -next morning.</p> - -<p>It was half-past the hour she had named when the -dismal procession reached the door of her chamber. -The Under-Sheriff was accompanied by the Rev. John -Swinton, and by her friend Mr Rives, the lawyer. -Although her courage did not falter, she appeared meek -and repentant, and spoke with anxiety of her future -state, in doubt whether she would obtain pardon for -her sins. This penitent mood encouraged the clergyman -to beg her declare the whole truth, to which she -replied that she must persist in asserting her innocence -to the end. No entreaty would induce her to retract -the solemn avowal.</p> - -<p>At nine o’clock she was conducted from her room, -dressed in the same black gown that she had worn at -the trial, with her hands and arms tied by strong black -silk ribbons. A crowd of five thousand persons, hushed -and expectant, was waiting on the Castle Green to -witness her sufferings. Thirty yards from the door -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> -of the gaol, whence she was led into the open air, -stood the gallows—a beam placed across the arms of -two trees. Against it lay a step-ladder covered with -black cloth. The horror of her crime must have been -forgotten by all who gazed upon the calm and brave -woman. For truly she died like a queen. Serene and -fearless she walked to the fatal spot, and joined most -fervently with the clergyman in prayer. After this -was ended they told her that if she wished she might -speak to the spectators.</p> - -<p>“Good people,” she cried, in a clear, audible voice, -“give me leave to declare to you that I am perfectly -innocent as to any intention to destroy or even hurt -my dear father; that I did not know, or even suspect, -that there was any poisonous quality in the fatal powder -I gave him; though I can never be too much punished -for being the innocent cause of his death. As to my -mother’s and Mrs Pocock’s deaths, that have been -unjustly laid to my charge, I am not even the innocent -cause of them, nor did I in the least contribute to them. -So help me, God, in these my last moments. And may -I not meet with eternal salvation, nor be acquitted by -Almighty God, in whose awful presence I am instantly -to appear hereafter, if the whole of what is here asserted -is not true. I from the bottom of my soul forgive all -those concerned in my prosecution; and particularly the -jury, notwithstanding their fatal verdict.”</p> - -<p>Then, having ascended five steps of the ladder, she -turned to the officials. “Gentlemen,” she requested, -with a show of modesty, “do not hang me high.” -The humanity of those whose task it was to put her -to death, forced them to ask her to go a little higher. -Climbing two steps more, she then looked round, and -trembling, said, “I am afraid I shall fall.” Still, her -invincible courage enabled her to address the crowd -once again. “Good people,” she said, “take warning -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -by me to be on your guard against the sallies of any -irregular passion, and pray for me that I may be -accepted at the Throne of Grace.” While the rope was -being placed around her neck it touched her face, and -she gave a deep sigh. Then with her own fingers -she moved it to one side. A white handkerchief had -been bound across her forehead, and she drew it over -her features. As it did not come low enough, a woman, -who had attended her and who had fixed the noose -around her throat, stepped up and pulled it down. -For a while she stood in prayer, and then gave the -signal by thrusting out a little book which she held -in her hand. The ladder was moved from under her -feet, and in obedience to the laws of her country she -was suspended in the air, swaying and convulsed, until -the grip of the rope choked the breath from her body.</p> - -<p>Horrible! Yet only in degree are our own methods -different from those employed a hundred and fifty -years ago.</p> - -<p>During the whole of the sad tragedy, the crowd, unlike -the howling mob at Tyburn, maintained an awestruck -silence. There were few dry eyes, though the sufferer -did not shed a tear, and hundreds of those who witnessed -her death went away convinced of her innocence. An -elegant young man named Edward Gibbon, with brain -wrapped in the mists of theology, who for three days -had been gentleman commoner at Magdalen, does not -appear to have been attracted to the scene. Surely -George Selwyn must be maligned, else he would have -posted to Oxford to witness this spectacle. It would -have been his only opportunity of seeing a gentlewoman -in the hands of the executioner.</p> - -<p>After hanging for half an hour with the feet, in -consequence of her request, almost touching the ground, -the body was carried upon the shoulders of one of the -sheriff’s men to a neighbouring house. At five o’clock -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> -in the afternoon the coffin containing her remains was -taken in a hearse to Henley, where, in the dead of night, -amidst a vast concourse, it was interred in the chancel -of the parish church between the graves of her father -and mother.</p> - -<p>So died ‘the unfortunate Miss Blandy’ in the -thirty-second year of her age—with a grace and valour -which no scene on the scaffold has ever excelled. If, as -the authors of <i>The Beggars Opera</i> and <i>The History of -Jonathan Wild</i> have sought to show, in playful irony, -the greatness of the criminal is comparable with the -greatness of the statesman, then she must rank with -Mary of Scotland and Catherine of Russia among the -queens of crime. Hers was the soul of steel, theirs also -the opportunity.</p> - -<p>In every period the enormity of a sin can be estimated -only by its relation to the spirit of the age; and in spite -of cant and sophistry, the contemporaries of Miss Blandy -made no legal distinction between the crimes of parricide -and petty larceny. Nay, the same rope that strangled the -brutal cut-throat in a few moments might prolong the -agony of a poor thief for a quarter of an hour. Had the -doctors succeeded in saving the life of the old attorney, -the strange law which in later times put to death -Elizabeth Fenning would have been powerless to -demand the life of Mary Blandy for a similar offence. -The protests of Johnson and Fielding against the -iniquity of the criminal code fell on idle ears.</p> - -<p>Thus we may not judge Mary Blandy from the -standpoint of our own moral grandeur, for she is a -being of another world—one of the vain, wilful, selfish -children to whom an early Guelph was king—merely -one of the blackest sheep in a flock for the most part ill-favoured. -As we gaze upon her portrait there comes a -feeling that we do not know this sombre woman after all, -for though the artist has produced a faithful resemblance, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span> -we perceive there is something lacking. We look into -part, not into her whole soul. None but one of the -immortals—Rembrandt, or his peer—could have shown -this queen among criminals as she was: an iron-hearted, -remorseless, demon-woman, her fair, cruel visage raised -mockingly amidst a chiaroscuro of crime and murkiness -unspeakable.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i16">“a narrow, foxy face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart-hiding smile, and gay persistent eye.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>In our own country the women of gentle birth who -have been convicted of murder since the beginning of -the eighteenth century may be counted on the fingers -of one hand. Mary Blandy, Constance Kent, Florence -Maybrick—for that unsavoury person, Elizabeth -Jefferies, has no claim to be numbered in the roll, and -the verdict against beautiful Madeleine Smith was ‘Not -proven’—these names exhaust the list. And of them, -the first alone paid the penalty at the gallows. The -annals of crime contain the records of many parricides, -some that have been premeditated with devilish art, -but scarce one that a daughter has wrought by the most -loathsome of coward’s weapons. In comparison with -the murderess of Henley, even Frances Howard and -Anne Turner were guilty of a venial crime. Mary -Blandy stands alone and incomparable—pilloried to all -ages among the basest of her sex.</p> - -<p>Yet the world soon forgot her. “Since the two misses -were hanged,” chats Horace Walpole on the 23rd of -June, coupling irreverently the names of Blandy and -Jefferies with the beautiful Gunnings—“since the two -misses were hanged, and the two misses were married, -there is nothing at all talked of.” Society, however, -soon found a new thrill in the adventures of the young -woman Elizabeth Canning. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span></p> - -<div id="i_035" class="figcenter"> -<p class="large caption">Miss MARY BLANDY</p> -<img src="images/i_035.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="copy author"><i>B. Cole Sculp</i></p> - -<p class="caption large script"><i>Aged 33 and Executed at <span class="smcap">Oxford</span> -April 6, 1752, for poisoning her Father.</i></p> -</div> - -<h3 id="BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_THE_BLANDY_CASE">BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE BLANDY CASE</h3> - -<h4>I. <span class="smcap">Contemporary Tracts</span></h4> - -<p>1. <i>An Authentic Narrative of that Most Horrid Parricide.</i> (Printed in the year -1751. Name of publisher in second edition, M. Cooper.)</p> - -<p>2. <i>A Genuine and Full Account of the Parricide</i> committed by Mary Blandy, -Oxford; Printed for, and sold by C. Goddard in the High St, and sold by -R. Walker in the little Old Bailey, and by all booksellers and pamphlet Shops. -(Published November 9, 1751.)</p> - -<p>3. <i>A Letter from a Clergyman to Miss Mary Blandy with her Answer thereto</i>.... -As also Miss Blandy’s Own Narrative. London; Printed for M. Cooper at the -Globe in Paternoster Row. 1752. Price four pence. Brit. Mus. (March 20, 1752.)</p> - -<p>4. <i>An Answer to Miss Blandy’s Narrative.</i> London; Printed for W. Owen, -near Temple Bar. 1752. Price 3d. Brit. Mus. (March 27, 1752.)</p> - -<p>5. <i>The Case of Miss Blandy considered</i> as a Daughter, as a Gentlewoman, and as -a Christian. Oxford; Printed for R. Baldwin, at the Rose in Paternoster Row. -Brit. Mus. (April 6, 1752.)</p> - -<p>6. <i>Original Letters to and from Miss Blandy and C—— C——</i>, London. Printed -for S. Johnson, near the Haymarket, Charing Cross. 1752. Brit. Mus. (April 8, -1752.)</p> - -<p>7. <i>A Genuine and Impartial Account of the Life of Miss M. Blandy.</i> W. Jackson -and R. Walker. (April 9, 1752.)</p> - -<p>8. <i>Miss Mary Blandy’s Own Account.</i> London; Printed for A. Millar in the -Strand. 1752 (price one shilling and sixpence). N.B. The Original Account -authenticated by Miss Blandy in a proper manner may be seen at the above A. -Millar’s. Brit. Mus. (April 10, 1752. The most famous apologia in criminal -literature.)</p> - -<p>9. <i>A Candid Appeal to the Public, by a Gentleman of Oxford.</i> London. Printed -for J. Clifford in the Old Bailey, and sold at the Pamphleteer Shops. 1752. -Price 6d. Brit. Mus. (April 15, 1752.) -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span></p> - -<p>10. <i>The Tryal of Mary Blandy.</i> Published by Permission of the Judges. -London. Printed for John and James Rivington at the Bible and Crown and in -St Paul’s Churchyard. 1752. In folio price two shillings. 8vo. one shilling. -Brit. Mus. (April 24, 1752.)</p> - -<p>11. <i>The Genuine Histories</i> of the Life and Transactions of John Swan and Eliz. -Jeffries, ... and Miss Mary Blandy, London. Printed and sold by T. Bailey -opposite the Pewter-Pot-Inn in Leadenhall Street. (Published after April 10, 1752.)</p> - -<p>12. <i>An Authentic and full History of all the Circumstances of the Cruel Poisoning -of Mr. Francis Blandy</i>, printed only for Mr. Wm. Owen, Bookseller at Temple -Bar, London, and R. Goadby in Sherborne. Brit. Mus. (Without date. From -pp. 113-132 the pamphlet resembles the “Answer to Miss Blandy’s Narrative,” -published also by Wm. Owen.)</p> - -<p>13. <i>The Authentic Tryals of John Swan and Elizabeth Jeffryes</i>.... With the -Tryal of Miss Mary Blandy, London. Printed by R. Walker for W. Richards, near -the East Gate, Oxford. 1752. Brit. Mus. (Published later than the “Candid -Appeal.”)</p> - -<p>14. <i>The Fair Parricide.</i> A Tragedy in three acts. Founded on a late -melancholy event. London. Printed for T. Waller, opp. Fetter Lane. Fleet -Street (price 1/). Brit. Mus. (May 5, 1752.)</p> - -<p>15. <i>The Genuine Speech of the Hon. Mr ——</i>, at the late Trial of Miss -Blandy, London; Printed for J. Roberts in Warwick Lane. 1752. (Price sixpence.) -Brit. Mus. (May 15, 1752.)</p> - -<p>16. <i>The x x x x Packet Broke Open</i>, or a letter from Miss Blandy in the Shades -below to Capt. Cranstoun in his exile above. London. Printed for M. Cooper at -the Globe in Paternoster Row. 1752. Price 6d. Brit. Mus. (May 16, 1752.)</p> - -<p>17. <i>The Secret History of Miss Blandy.</i> London. Printed for Henry Williams, -and sold by the booksellers at the Exchange, in Ludgate St, at Charing Cross, and -St. James. Price 1s. 6d. Brit. Mus. (June 11, 1752. A sane and well-written -account of the whole story.)</p> - -<p>18. <i>Memoires of the Life of Wm. Henry Cranstoun Esqre.</i> London. Printed for -J. Bouquet, at the White Hart, in Paternoster Row; 1752. Price one shilling. -Brit. Mus. (June 18, 1752.)</p> - -<p>19. <i>The Genuine Lives of Capt. Cranstoun and Miss Mary Blandy.</i> London. -Printed for M. Cooper, Paternoster Row, and C. Sympson at the Bible Warehouse, -Chancery Lane. 1753. Price one shilling. Brit. Mus.</p> - -<p>20. <i>Capt. Cranstoun’s Account of the poisoning of the Late Mr. Francis Blandy.</i> -London. Printed for R. Richards, the Corner of Bernard’s-Inn, near the Black -Swan, Holborn. Brit. Mus. (March 1-3, 1753.)</p> - -<p>21. <i>Memories of the life and most remarkable transactions of Capt. William Henry -Cranstoun.</i> Containing an account of his conduct in his younger years. His letter -to his wife to persuade her to disown him as her husband. His trial in Scotland, and -the Court’s decree thereto. His courtship of Miss Blandy; his success therein, and -the tragical issue of that affair. His voluntary exile abroad with the several accidents -that befel him from his flight to his death. His reconciliation to the Church of -Rome, with the Conversation he had with a Rev. Father of the Church at the time of -his conversion. His miserable death, and pompous funeral. Printed for M. Cooper -in Paternoster Row; W. Reeve in Fleet Street; and C. Sympson in Chancery Lane. -Price 6d. With a curious print of Capt. Cranstoun. Brit. Mus. (March 10-13, -1753. As the title-page of this pamphlet is torn out of the copy in the Brit. Mus., it -is given in full. From pp. 3-21 the tract is identical with “The Genuine Lives,” -also published by M. Cooper.)</p> - -<p>22. <i>Parricides!</i> The trial of Philip Stansfield, Gt, for the murder of his father -in Scotland, 1688. Also the trial of Miss Mary Blandy, for the murder of her -Father, at Oxford 1752. London (1810). Printed by J. Dean, 57 Wardour St, -Soho for T. Brown, 154 Drury Lane and W. Evans, 14 Market St, St James’s. -Brit. Mus. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span></p> - -<p>23. <i>The Female Parricide</i>, or the History of Mary-Margaret d’Aubray, Marchioness -of Brinvillier.... In which a parallel is drawn between the Marchioness and -Miss Blandy. C. Micklewright, Reading. Sold by J. Newbery. Price 1/. -(March 5, 1752.)</p> - -<p>Lowndes mentions also:—</p> - -<p>24. <i>An Impartial Inquiry into the Case of Miss Blandy.</i> With reflections on -her Trial, Defence, Repentance, Denial, Death. 1753. 8vo.</p> - -<p>25. <i>The Female Parricide.</i> A Tragedy, by Edward Crane, of Manchester. -1761. 8vo.</p> - -<p>26. <i>A Letter from a Gentleman to Miss Blandy</i> with her answer thereto. 1752. -8vo. (Possibly the same as “A Letter from a Clergyman.”)</p> - -<p>The two following are advertised in the newspapers of the day:—</p> - -<p>27. <i>Case of Miss Blandy and Miss Jeffreys</i> fairly stated, and compared.... -R. Robinson, Golden Lion, Ludgate Street. (March 26, 1752.)</p> - -<p>28. <i>Genuine Letters between Miss Blandy and Miss Jeffries</i> before and after their -Conviction. J. Scott Exchange Alley; W. Owen, Temple Bar; G. Woodfall, -Charing Cross. (April 21, 1752.)</p> - -<p>29. Broadside. <i>Execution of Miss Blandy.</i> Pitts, Printer, Toy and Marble -Warehouse, 6 Great St. Andrew’s St. Seven Dials. Brit. Mus.</p> - -<p>30. <i>The Addl. MSS.</i>, 15930. Manuscript Department in the Brit. Mus.</p> - -<h4>II. <span class="smcap">Contemporary Newspapers and Magazines</span></h4> - -<p>1. <i>Read’s Weekly Journal</i>, March and April (1752), February 3 (1753).</p> - -<p>2. <i>The General Advertiser</i>, August-November (1751), March and April (1752).</p> - -<p>3. <i>The London Evening Post</i>, March and April (1752).</p> - -<p>4. <i>The Covent Garden Journal</i> (Sir Alexander Drawcansir), February, March, -and April (1752).</p> - -<p>5. <i>The London Morning Penny Post</i>, August and September (1751).</p> - -<p>6. <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, pp. 376, 486-88 (1751), pp. 108-17, 152, 188, 195 -(1752), pp. 47, 151 (1753), p. 803, pt. II. (1783).</p> - -<p>7. <i>Universal Magazine</i>, pp. 114-124, 187, 281 (1752).</p> - -<p>8. <i>London Magazine</i>, pp. 379, 475, 512(1751), pp. 127, 180, 189(1752), p. 89 -(1753).</p> - -<h4><span class="smcap">Notes</span></h4> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note I.</span>—In recent years the guilt of Cranstoun has been questioned. Yet a -supposition that does not explain two damning circumstances must be baseless:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) In the first place, one of his letters to Miss Blandy, dated July 18, 1751, -was read by Bathurst in his opening speech. Although the reports of the trial -do not tell us that the note was produced in court, or that the handwriting was -verified, it cannot be presumed that the Crown lawyers were guilty of wilful -fabrication. However strange it may appear that this letter alone escaped -destruction, it is improbable that Miss Blandy invented it. Had she done so its -contents would have been more consistent with her defence. As it stands it is -most unfavourable to her. Therefore, in the absence of further evidence, we -must conclude that the letter is genuine, and if genuine Cranstoun was an -accomplice.</p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) In the second place, the paper containing the poison which was rescued -from the fire, is said by the prosecution to have borne the inscription in Cranstoun’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span> -handwriting, ‘Powder to clean the pebbles’ If this had been counterfeit, -Miss Blandy would have had no object in destroying it, but would have -kept it for her purpose.</p></blockquote> - -<p>At any cost Lord Cranstoun must have been anxious to remove the black stain -from his scutcheon. That this was impossible the fact that it was not done seems to -prove. Indeed, if Captain Cranstoun had been ignorant of the crime, he could have -proved his innocence as soon as Miss Blandy was arrested by producing her letters, -which, granting this hypothesis, would have contained no reference that would have -incriminated him. That she had written a great deal to him was shown in evidence -at the trial by the clerk Lyttleton.</p> - -<p>For these reasons it is impossible to accept the conclusion of the writer of -Cranstoun’s life in the <i>Dic. Nat. Biog.</i> (who has adopted the assertion in Anderson’s -<i>Scottish Nation</i>, vol. i. p. 698), that “apart from Miss Blandy’s statement there is -nothing to convict him of the murder.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note II.</span>—Anderson’s statement that “there does not appear to be any grounds -for supposing that Captain Cranstoun was in any way accessory to the murder,” shows -that he had not a complete knowledge of the facts at his disposal, or that he did not -weigh them with precision. Miss Blandy’s intercepted letter to her lover affords a -strong presumption of his connivance, and her destruction of his correspondence -suggests that it contained incriminating details. That these two actions were subtle -devices to cast suspicion upon Cranstoun cannot be maintained with any show of -plausibility, for in this case Miss Blandy, if dexterous enough to weave such a crafty -plot, must have foreseen its exposure, and with such exposure her own inevitable ruin, -when to prove that he was not an accomplice her lover had produced the letters she -had written to him. Thus to support such an assumption it must be shown that -Cranstoun had previously destroyed every particle of her handwriting, and that she -was aware of the fact. Of such an improbable circumstance there is, of course, no -evidence.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note III.</span>—“Old Benchers of the Middle Temple,” <i>Essays of Elia</i>. The relative -of Miss Blandy, with whom Mr Samuel Salt was dining when he made the unfortunate -remark which Lamb repeats, may have been Mr Serjeant Henry Stephens of Doctors’ -Commons, who was her maternal uncle.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note IV.</span>—The date of Miss Blandy’s birth is not given in the <i>Dic. Nat. Biog.</i> -From the register of Henley Parish Church it appears that she was baptized on -July 15, 1720.</p> - -<div id="i_039" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_039.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><span class="x-large script"><i>Mess. Robert and Daniel</i></span><br /> - -<span class="x-large smcap">Perreau</span>.</p> - -<p class="copy script"><i>London. Publish’d Jan<sup>y</sup> 22<sup>d</sup> 1776. According to Act of Parliament.</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span></p> -</div> - -<h2 id="THE_UNFORTUNATE_BROTHERS">THE UNFORTUNATE BROTHERS<br /> - -<span class="medium">THE CASE OF ROBERT AND DANIEL PERREAU AND -MRS MARGARET CAROLINE RUDD, 1775-6</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“What’s this dull town to me?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Robin’s not near;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He whom I wish to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wish for to hear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’s all the joy and mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made life a heaven on earth?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! they’re all fled with thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Robin Adair.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>When tenor Braham sent his plaintive air ringing -through the town, few were alive who could recall the -two previous occasions on which also the name of Adair -was upon every lip. One day in February 1758 all -London had been stirred by the elopement of Lady -Caroline Keppel, daughter of second Earl Albemarle, -with a rollicking Irish physician who may have been -the Robert of the ballad; while during the summer of -1775 the whole world was wondering whether a man or -a most beautiful woman must go to Tyburn for using -the signature of Mr William Adair, the rich army agent, -cousin to Dr Robin of wedding and song. In the first -romance the hero received the just title of ‘the fortunate -Irishman’: in the latter the chief personages were -‘the unfortunate brothers’ Messrs Robert and Daniel -Perreau. Their disaster happened thus:— -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span></p> - -<p>On a Tuesday morning, the 7th of March 1775, a -slender, middle-aged gentleman walked into the counting-house -of Messrs Drummond, the great bankers of -Charing Cross. Garbed in a trim snuff-coloured suit, and -betraying none of the macaroni eccentricities with the -exception of a gold-laced hat, his dress suited the rôle -that he played in life—a sleek and prosperous apothecary. -This Mr Robert Perreau of Golden Square was -welcomed cordially by Henry Drummond, one of the -partners in the firm, for an apothecary was almost as -eminent as a doctor, and the men had met and known -each other at such houses as my Lord Egmont’s or -that of my Lady Lyttelton. Producing as security a -bond for £7500, bearing a signature that should have -been honoured by any house in London, the visitor -requested a loan of £5000. However, strange to say, -banker Henry, who had been joined by his brother -Robert, seemed dissatisfied.</p> - -<p>“This bond is made payable to you,” he remarked. -“Was you present when it was executed?”</p> - -<p>“No, I was not present,” was Mr Perreau’s reply.</p> - -<p>“It is not the signature of William Adair, the late -army agent of Pall Mall,” was the startling comment -of Robert Drummond. “I have seen his drafts many -a time!”</p> - -<p>The prim countenance of the apothecary remained -unperturbed.</p> - -<p>“There is no doubt but it is his hand,” he answered, -with perfect composure, “for it is witnessed by Mr Arthur -Jones, his solicitor, and by Thomas Stark, his servant.”</p> - -<p>“It is very odd,” replied the incredulous Robert -Drummond. “I have seen his hand formerly, and this -does not appear to be the least like it.”</p> - -<p>Brother Henry Drummond echoed the same sentiment, -whereupon Mr Robert Perreau waxed mysterious and -emphatic. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span></p> - -<p>“Mr Adair is my particular friend,” he declared. -“There are family connections between us.... Mr -Adair has money of mine in his hands, and allows me -interest.”</p> - -<p>“Come to-morrow, Mr Perreau,” said Henry Drummond, -“and we will give you an answer.”</p> - -<p>Having received this promise the apothecary departed, -but after the lapse of two hours he returned, and -was seen by banker Henry once more. Without the -least reserve he confessed that he had been much -concerned by what the Messrs Drummond had told -him.</p> - -<p>“I could not be easy in my mind till I had called -on Mr Adair,” he explained. “Luckily I catched him -in his boots before he went to take his ride.”</p> - -<p>Naturally, the good banker listened with interest, -noting the words, for it seemed odd that Mr William -Adair, the rich squire of Flixton Hall in Suffolk, whose -son was carrying on the army agency, should raise -money in such a style.</p> - -<p>“I produced the bond to Mr Adair,” Robert Perreau -continued. “It was his signature, he said, but he might -possibly have altered his hand from the time you had -seen him write.... You might let me have the -£5000, Mr Adair said, and he would pay the bond in -May, though it is not payable till June.”</p> - -<p>The astute banker, who had talked the matter over -with his brother in the interim, did not express his -doubts so strongly.</p> - -<p>“Leave the bond with me,” he suggested to his -visitor, “in order that we may get an assignment of it.”</p> - -<p>Which proposal Mr Robert Perreau assented to -readily, believing, no doubt, that it was a preface to the -payment of his money. In the course of the day the -document was shown to a friend of Mr Adair, and finally -exhibited to the agent himself. Attentive to the hour -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> -of his appointment, Mr Perreau left his gallipots in -Golden Square, and reached the Charing Cross bank -at eleven o’clock on the following morning. Both -partners were ready for him, and suggested that to -clear up all doubts it would be wise to call upon Mr -William Adair without delay. To this the apothecary -assented very readily—indeed, in any case a refusal -would have aroused the worst suspicions. As it was a -wet morning, he had come in his elegant town coach, -and he drove off immediately with one of the bankers -to the house of the late agent in Pall Mall. Upon -their entrance the squire of Flixton took Mr Henry -Drummond by the hand, but, to the surprise of the -worthy banker, made a bow merely to the man who -had boasted him as his ‘particular friend’ Then, the -bond being produced, Mr Adair at once repudiated the -signature. For the first time Robert Perreau betrayed -astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Surely, sir,” cried he, “you are jocular!”</p> - -<p>A haughty glance was the sole response of the -wealthy agent.</p> - -<p>“It is no time to be jocular when a man’s life is -at stake,” retorted the indignant Henry Drummond. -“What can all this mean? The person you pretend to -be intimate with does not know you.”</p> - -<p>“Why, ’tis evident this is not Mr Adair’s hand,” -added his brother, who had just arrived, with similar -warmth, pointing to the forged name.</p> - -<p>“I know nothing at all of it,” protested the confused -apothecary.</p> - -<p>“You are either the greatest fool or the greatest -knave I ever saw,” the angry banker continued. “I do -not know what to make of you.... You must account -for this.... How came you by the bond?”</p> - -<p>Then there was a hint that a constable had been -summoned, and it would be best to name his accomplices. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span></p> - -<p>“How came you by the bond?” repeated Mr -Drummond.</p> - -<p>At last the bewildered Mr Perreau seemed to realise -the gravity of his position.</p> - -<p>“That will appear,” he replied, in answer to the last -remark, “if you will send for my sister.”</p> - -<p>“Who may she be?”</p> - -<p>“Why, my brother Mr Daniel Perreau’s wife.”</p> - -<p>Calling his servant, the apothecary bade him take the -coach for his sister-in-law, who, he said, might be at her -home in Harley Street, but most likely with his wife at -his own house in Golden Square. It was evident that -the carriage did not go farther than the latter direction, -for in a short time it brought back the lady, who was -ushered into the room. Then indeed the hearts of -those three hard-pated men of finance must have been -softened, for their eyes could have rested upon no more -dazzling vision of feminine loveliness within the British -Isles. Of medium height, her figure was shaped in the -robust lines of graceful womanhood, but the face, which -beamed with an expression of childish innocence, seemed -the daintiest of miniatures, with tiny, shell-like features, -and the clearest and fairest skin. In the fashion of the -time her hair was combed upward, revealing a high -forehead, and the ample curls which fell on either -side towards her neck nestled beneath the smallest of -ears. Without a tinge of colour, her complexion was -relieved only by her red lips, but the healthy pallor -served to heighten her radiant beauty. A thin tight -ribbon encircled her slender neck. Below the elbow -the close sleeves of her polonese terminated in little tufts -of lace, while long gloves concealed her round, plump -arms. Dress, under the influence of art, was beginning -to cast off its squalor.</p> - -<p>Grasping the situation in a moment, this lovely Mrs -Daniel Perreau asked if she might speak with her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -brother-in-law alone, but the request was refused. Then -the beauty, making full use of her shining blue eyes, -besought Mr Adair to grant her a private interview. -But the old man—not such a gay dog as kinsman -Robin—was proof against these blandishments.</p> - -<p>“You are quite a stranger to me,” he answered, “and -you can have no conversation that does not pass before -these gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>For a short time the beautiful woman appeared -incapable of reason. At last she seemed to make a -sudden decision.</p> - -<p>“My brother Mr Perreau is innocent,” she cried, in -an agony of distress. “I gave him the bond.... I -forged it!... For God’s sake, have mercy on an -innocent man. Consider his wife and children.... -Nobody was meant to be injured. All will be repaid.”</p> - -<p>“It is a man’s signature,” objected one of the bankers. -“How could you forge it?”</p> - -<p>Seizing a pen and sheet of paper, she imitated the -name on the bond with such amazing fidelity that all -were convinced. Then, according to promise, Robert -Drummond destroyed the writing, for he, at least, was -determined that no advantage should be taken of her -confidence.</p> - -<p>Little information was gained from Daniel Perreau—twin -brother of the apothecary—who had been summoned -from his spacious home in Harley Street, save shrugs -of shoulders and words of surprise. Between him and -Robert there was a striking likeness. Both were handsome -and well-proportioned men, but a full flavour of -macaroni distinguished the newcomer—a ‘fine puss -gentleman’ of the adventurous type. To him dress was -as sacred as to his great predecessor, Mr John Rann of -the Sixteen Strings, who only a few months previously -had met with a fatal accident near the Tyburn turnpike. -Indeed, the macaroni was as great an autocrat as the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -dandy of later days, and princes, parsons, and highwaymen -alike became members of his cult. So the gentleman -from Harley Street, flourishing his big stick, and -shaking the curled chignon at the back of his neck, tried -with success to look a great fool.</p> - -<p>Quite appropriately, it was the woman who determined -the result. Less dour than the squire of Flixton, the -two bankers had no objection to accompany her into an -adjacent room, where they listened with sympathy to her -prayers. Being younger men than Mr Adair, they were -full of respect for her brave deed of self-accusation, -moved by the piteous spectacle of beauty in tears. In -the end, confident that she spoke the truth, they began -to regard Robert Perreau as her innocent dupe. So the -constable was sent away, for macaroni Daniel seemed -too great an idiot to arrest, and it was preposterous to -dream of locking up his lovely wife. Thus the three -grave financiers promised that the adventure should be -forgotten, and the Messrs Perreau drove away from the -house in Pall Mall in Robert’s coach, assured that they -had escaped from a position which might have cost them -their lives. Almost as clever as she was beautiful was -this charming Mrs Daniel Perreau.</p> - -<p>Surely, all but a fool would have tried to blot the -incident from his mind, content that the gentlemen -concerned believed his honour to be unsullied, too -humane to betray a pretty sister into the bloody hands -of justice—all but a fool, or a <i>criminal</i> seeking to escape -by sacrificing an accomplice! Yet Mr Robert Perreau, -although anything but a fool, would not rest. Without -delay he sought advice from a barrister friend, one -Henry Dagge, with the amazing result that on the -following Saturday forenoon, the 11th of March, he -appeared before Messrs Wright and Addington at the -office in Bow Street to lay information against ‘the female -forger’ Luckily, the magistrates took the measure of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -the treacherous apothecary, and committed him as well -as the lady to the Bridewell at Tothill Fields. On the -next day, fop Daniel—a base fellow, who had acted -as decoy while his brother was effecting the betrayal—was -sent to keep them company. It was a rueful hour -for the two Perreaus when they tried to pit their wits -against a woman.</p> - -<p>On Wednesday morning, the 15th of March, in expectation -that the three distinguished prisoners would appear -before Sir John Fielding, the Bow Street court was -besieged by so large a crowd that it was deemed prudent -to adjourn to more commodious quarters in the Guildhall, -Westminster. Surprising revelations were forthcoming. -It was found that the forgery discovered -seven days ago was only one of many. Two other -persons—Dr Brooke and Admiral Sir Thomas Frankland—less -cautious than the Drummonds, came forward -to declare that they had obliged their friend Mr -Perreau by discounting similar bonds, all of which -bore the signature of William Adair! Plain indeed -was the motive of Robert’s betrayal. It was not -enough that the bankers should forgive him—it was -needful that the woman must answer as scapegoat for -much more.</p> - -<p>Never had a fairer prisoner stood before the blind -magistrate than the intended victim. Above a striped -silk gown she wore a pink cloak trimmed with ermine, -and a small black bonnet—as usual, daintiest of the -dainty, in spite of her tears and shame. Hitherto, -she had given splendid proofs of courage and loyalty, -but treachery had changed her heart to stone, and -she lent herself to a cunning revenge. A youthful -barrister named Bailey, who was hovering around Bow -Street soon after her arrest, had been lucky enough -to be accepted as her counsel. Clever almost as his -client—in spite of contemporary libels from Grub Street, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> -that repute him more intimate with Ovid’s <i>Art of -Love</i> than Glanvill or Bracton—he came forward with -the naïve suggestion that she should be admitted as -evidence for the Crown! And a witness she was made -there and then, two days later being let loose on bail, -which created a very pretty legal causerie in a little -while. On the other hand, the unhappy brothers were -committed to the New Prison, Clerkenwell, on the -capital charge of forgery. All this was very welcome -entertainment for the fashionable mob that crushed -into the Westminster Guildhall.</p> - -<div id="i_047" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_047.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption large"><span class="smcap">Margaret Caroline Rudd</span></p> -</div> - -<p>The repartee of one of Sir John’s myrmidons, often -quoted by wags of the time as an excellent joke, is not -without its moral. One of the doorkeepers refused -entrance to a certain person on the ground that he had -been told to admit only gentlemen.</p> - -<p>“That is Mr ——, the great apothecary,” quoth a -bystander.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” returns the doorkeeper, “if that’s the case, -he must on no account go in, for my orders extend -only to gentlemen, and the whole room is filled with -apothecaries already.”</p> - -<p>It would have been well for Robert Perreau had -he held no more exalted opinion of his station in life -than the Bow Street officer.</p> - -<p>To the delight of all the <i>bon ton</i>, the scent of scandal -rose hot into the air. The charming lady who had -passed as the wife of Daniel Perreau proved to be -his mistress. Although she had lived with him for -five years, bearing him no less than three children, her -real name was Margaret Caroline Rudd, whose lawful -husband was still alive. Being the daughter of an -apothecary in the North of Ireland, by his marriage -with the love-child of a major of dragoons, who was -a member of the Scottish house of Galloway, her boast -that the blood of Bruce ran in her veins was strictly -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> -true, in spite of the scoffs and jeers with which it was -hailed by her enemies. Early in the year 1762, when -only seventeen, she had married a dissolute lieutenant -of foot, named Valentine Rudd, the son of a grocer at -St Albans. Soon his society proved distasteful, and -the fair Margaret Caroline eloped with a more congenial -partner. During the next few years she lived -the life of a Kitty Fisher or a Fanny Murray—a gilt-edged -Cyprian—selling her favours, like Danae, for no -less than a shower of gold. Of all her patrons, the -most faithful and generous by far was a rich Jew moneylender -named Salvadore, whose name remains still as -a landmark in the purlieus of the metropolis. Good -Lord Granby is said to have visited her out of mere -affection. Among others, it was whispered that Henry -Frederick, a gentleman of easy virtue, like all Dukes -of Cumberland, became one of her intimate friends. -Possibly she may have listened to couplets from the -<i>Essay on Women</i>, for patriot Wilkes, the member of -Parliament for the county of Middlesex, is believed to -have cultivated her society, going to the extent of -finding her a home at Lambeth. Peers flocked to -Hollen Street or Meard’s Court to pay her homage. -A favourite device of hers was to impersonate a -boarding-school miss or a lady of quality. Few women -of pleasure have possessed the fertile imagination of -Mrs Margaret Caroline Rudd.</p> - -<p>In May 1770 she met the foolish Daniel Perreau—not -stupid from the woman’s point of view, since -he was a dashing dog with a taste for all the pleasant -things in life—and in an unlucky moment she accepted -him as her protector. However, in other respects, -although he had travelled far over the world, his -intellect was no mate for hers. In business he had -been a failure both at home and abroad. Three times, -it is recorded, he was obliged to make composition with -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> -his creditors. Only a fortnight before his alliance -with the bewitching Irishwoman his certificate of -bankruptcy had been signed. Still, he was a man -suited to the fair Margaret’s taste, handsome, gay, and -genteel, with a complacency that paid no regard to her -methods of raising money—a partner, in short, who -gave her back the status in society that she had -forfeited.</p> - -<p>Naturally, Daniel was more than satisfied with his -beautiful companion, allowing her to pass as his lawful -wife, forming an establishment for her in Pall Mall -Court—the cost of which, since Salvadore and others -were as lavish as ever, she appears to have provided. -Golden dreams had captured his silly brain, and he -believed that Exchange Alley would bring a more -propitious fortune than vulgar trade. Funds could be -obtained from his dear Mrs Rudd. Secret news from -the French Embassy was furnished by his confederate, -one Colonel Kinder—an Irish soldier. It would be -easy to cut a brilliant figure at Jonathan’s, and restore -his shattered credit. Thus, relying upon certain information, -he insured the chances of war with Spain; -but the Falkland Island convention happened to bring -peace, and Daniel Perreau suffered his first big loss in -the Alley.</p> - -<p>Still, this did not deter him, for the finances of Mrs -Rudd seemed inexhaustible, and sometimes he made -a lucky stroke himself. In addition to her pretended -fortune, which Daniel knew was not bequeathed by any -relative, she declared to her friends that a windfall had -come to her in the shape of an annuity of £800 a -year from Mr James Adair, the wealthy linen-factor of -Soho Square. This kinsman of the Pall Mall agent -chanced to be acquainted with the maternal uncle of -Margaret Caroline Youngson—a tenant farmer of Balimoran, -County Down, John Stewart by name, another -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span> -unlawful offspring, possibly, of the amorous major of -the house of Galloway—and, after the custom of a man -of the world, as he is described, he became even more -interested than the royal duke in the fortunes of the -pretty niece. It is doubtful whether his generosity -reached the sum named, but with so many sources of -income strict accuracy in detail may have been difficult -to Mrs Rudd. Indeed, the despicable Daniel Perreau -did not require them. It was a great thing to boast -at Jonathan’s that his wife was a connection of one of -the great Adairs. With such a surety funds might be -borrowed easily.</p> - -<p>Apparently, being much attached to her protector, -Margaret Rudd was quite content to live with him in -their humble quarters in Pall Mall Court, and to -present him at appropriate intervals with pledges of -their mutual ardour. Probably she shared his golden -visions, hoping for future affluence. At all events, she -gained no monetary advantage from the connection. -Moreover, it was not until the beginning of the fatal year -that she was mistress even of a house of her own, for -the elegant residence on the west side of Harley Street -was purchased on the 31st of December 1774.</p> - -<p>Brother Robert watched with amazement the progress -of the fortunes of his twin, for it was wonderful -that bankrupt Daniel should be able to live in decent -lodgings with a stylish lady, to pursue fashion in all -its vagaries, and to throw about money in the Alley. -A different man this Robert—solemn, laborious, and -intelligent, making a hard-earned income of a thousand -pounds a year. Nevertheless, his soul soared above -his gallipots. It was his ambition to make a figure -in the world, so that his wife could woo society with -drums, routs, hurricanes. When he looked around he -saw that fortunes were being won on every side. A -wave of prosperity was bearing the empire on its -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span> -crest. The Great Commoner had wrenched America -and India from the hereditary enemy. To these vast -markets British seamen were carrying the exports of -their country. At home, the clever inventors of the -North, Watt and Arkwright, Hargreaves and Brindley, -had increased the powers of production a thousandfold. -England was setting up shop on a scale undreamt of -hitherto in the world’s philosophy. Why spend one’s -life in dispensing pukes and boluses, thought apothecary -Robert, when the Alley is open to all who dare take -advantage of this golden age?</p> - -<p>Since this was his character, brother Daniel and his -pretty <i>chère amie</i> soon tempted the misguided man to -share their fortunes, glad to seek the cover of his -reputable name to fashion new and more desperate -schemes. For earls and bishops were clients of the -apothecary, and ‘honest Perreau’ was one of his -appellations. Yet to preserve the co-operation of such -respectability a pleasant little piece of fiction had to be -maintained. Brother Robert, not a fool by any means, -was willing to assist their plans, but only in the -character of an ingenuous agent; a method—as, no -doubt, he pointed out—that must disarm all suspicion. -Thus, when he canvassed his friends to advance money -on bonds in pursuance of the new policy, he would -be able to pose as the emissary of his sister-in-law -Mrs Daniel Perreau and her doting relatives Messrs -James and William Adair. Indeed, there was a letter -in his pocket, authorising some such scheme, which, -not being penned by the Pall Mall agent, probably -was the work of the clever woman who could give -imitations of other people’s handwriting. Such a letter -would be useful in case his possession of an Adair bond -was questioned, but most useful of all—and this most -certainly Mr Robert Perreau would not point out to -his confederates—in making him appear a guileless dupe -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span> -in the hands of an artful woman. Very cleverly had -he arranged the saving of his own skin, this sly, precise -apothecary.</p> - -<p>For no game could be more hazardous than the -one which the guilty trio continued to pursue. Forgery -was needful to cover forgery. As one bond became -payable another had to be discounted to provide the -money. A couple of bonds to the value of nearly -£8000 were cashed by banker Mills in the City. On -two others the large sums of £4000 and £5000 had -been advanced by Sir Thomas Frankland. In this -way more than a dozen were negotiated during the -twelve months that preceded the discovery. All -were signed with the name of the army agent—the -pretended benefactor of Daniel’s wife—and their total -value reached the huge sum of £70,000. Thus the -Perreaus had been able to continue their speculations -in Exchange Alley. Their sole chance of coming out -of the mischief scot free was a lucky stroke at Jonathan’s, -or the death of one of their victims.</p> - -<p>Public interest in the case was aroused no less by the -personality of the prisoners than by the mystery surrounding -the actual criminal. For the brothers on one -side, and Mrs Rudd on the other, told two wonderful and -contradictory stories. This most artful of women, whined -the Messrs Perreau, using consummate guile, had revealed -to them gradually a dazzling and enticing prospect. -First Mr James and then Mr William Adair was represented -as the lavish benefactor of their beautiful -relative. Yet such was the modesty of these capitalists, -that although they declared their intention of procuring -a baronetcy for Daniel, and an estate in the country -for Robert, besides setting up the twins as West-End -bankers, they would communicate with Mrs Rudd alone! -Moreover, such was the impecuniosity of these wealthy -men that they were able to carry out their benevolent -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> -intentions only by the aid of notes of hand! However, -the brothers protested that these assurances had been -given to them by the lady, and that all the forged bonds -had been received from the fair Margaret Caroline by -innocent Daniel or ingenuous Robert, in the belief that -the Messrs Adair, who had signed them, intended a -gratuitous present. A most happy stroke of luck, -coinciding fortunately with the period of their bold -speculations at Jonathan’s! Yet what was Mrs Rudd’s -motive in running these risks to provide funds from -which she received little benefit, was not made clear.</p> - -<p>Even more wondrous was the other story. Although -her conduct at the house in Pall Mall—whether we deem -her guilty or innocent—showed something of nobility, -she had no mercy for her confederates after they had -played her false. While confessing once more that she -had forged the bond which the Drummonds had rejected, -she declared that her keeper Daniel had forced -her to do so by standing over her with an open knife, -threatening to cut her throat unless she obeyed. An -incredible story, but no more improbable than the other! -With the exception of this compulsory forgery, Mrs -Rudd avowed that she was innocent. Amidst all this -publicity it is likely that poor Mr James Adair, who -had been very much the lady’s friend in former days, -would have an unpleasant time with Mrs James Adair, -and with his son, young Mr Serjeant James, M.P., the -rising barrister!</p> - -<p>Such an entertainment was a novel and delightful -experience for the British public. Since the wonderful -time (fourteen summers ago) when mad Earl Ferrers -had made his exit at Tyburn in a gorgeous wedding -dress, and amidst funereal pomp, the triple tree seldom -had been graced by the appearance of gentlefolk. -Broker Rice, whose shady tricks at the Alley made -him the victim of Jack Ketch three years after his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> -lordship, was almost the only respectable criminal -who had been hanged for more than a decade. Indeed, -except Mother Brownrigg and Jack of the Sixteen -Strings, no criminal of note had dangled from a -London scaffold since the days of Theodore Gardelle. -Yet a glorious era was dawning for the metropolitan -mob, when, in quick succession, Dodd, Hackman, and -Ryland were to journey down the Oxford Road—the -golden age of the gallows, when George III. was king!</p> - -<p>On Friday, the Ist of June, Robert Perreau was put to -the bar at the Old Bailey. Owing to ill-health he had -been allowed to remain in the Clerkenwell prison, and -was not taken to Newgate until the morning of his trial—a -privilege shared also by his brother. The President -of the Court was Sir Richard Aston, who, as a junior -of the Oxford circuit, had helped to defend the unfortunate -Miss Blandy. By his side sat the Right -Honourable John Wilkes, Lord Mayor of London, a -quite tame City patriot now almost ready for the royal -embraces, very different from the Wilkes winged by -pistol-practising Martin, M.P., and hounded by renegade -Jemmy Twitcher. This same City patriot—if we may -credit one of Dame Rumour’s quite credible stories—whispered -into the ear of the judge the most important -words spoken during the trial:—“My lord, you can -convict these men without the woman’s evidence.... -It is a shocking thing that she should escape unpunished, -as she must if you call her as a witness!” Which -advice—if the lady had been as kind to ‘squinting -Jacky’ as the world believed—shows that he was rising -on stepping stones of Medmenham Abbey to higher -things. At all events, instead of summoning Mrs Rudd -into the box, the judge startled the world by ordering -her to be detained in Newgate.</p> - -<p>In spite of the efforts of his counsel and his friends, -the Court did not put the least faith in the wily -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> -apothecary, refusing to believe that he had been -ignorant of his brother’s relationship to his mistress, or, -if this were true, that an innocent man would obtain -cash for a succession of huge bonds, drawn on the well-known -house of Adair, at the bidding of a woman -without making inquiries. Even granting that he was -so credulous as to remain silent when he saw that -suspicion was aroused, it was clear that no man of -honour would strive to stifle mistrust by telling lies. -Then there were other compromising circumstances. -It was apparent that the Perreaus needed money to -repay certain bonds that were falling due. Robert had -antedated the latest forgery to make it agree with one -of his falsehoods to the Messrs Drummond, for in the -previous January he had endeavoured to obtain money -from them by a fictitious story. Not only did the -employment of a scrivener have no weight in his favour, -but pointed to premeditation. In the face of these -facts his guilt seemed clear. Notwithstanding an -eloquent defence written for him by Hugh M’Auley -Boyd, in which he protested that he had received the -bonds from Mrs Rudd in good faith, the jury required -no more than five minutes to return a hostile verdict.</p> - -<p>At nine o’clock on the following morning there were -similar dealings with brother Daniel. Seeing that his -case was hopeless, he did not deliver the elaborate -address that had been prepared, choosing to print it, like -Pope’s playwright. Naturally, his expectations were -fulfilled, and he was found guilty of forging one of the -bonds in the name of William Adair, on which his friend -Dr Brooke had lent him £1500. On the 6th of June, at -the close of the Old Bailey sessions, he was sentenced -to death along with Robert by Recorder Glynn, while -on the same day Mrs Rudd was told that as bail -could not be granted, she must remain in prison. In -spite of their dishonesty, and still baser treachery, it is -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -impossible to think of the cruel sentence of the unfortunate -Perreaus without a thrill of horror. Yet no -qualms disturbed the tranquil conscience of King George, -who believed he was doing the Lord’s work in hanging -men and women for a paltry theft.</p> - -<p>The charming Mrs Rudd was not disposed of so -easily as her unlucky confederates. From April onwards -she had attracted more attention than the skirmishes -with our rebellious colonists at Bunker’s Hill and -Lexington. While she was at large and the brothers -were under lock and key, public sympathy had remained -on their side. Moreover, her tactics were not too reputable, -and until it was evident that she was struggling -in her prison with the valour of desperation against overwhelming -odds, popular compassion did not condone her -shifty methods. Still, whatever her guilt, she waged -her long battle with surpassing dexterity.</p> - -<p>One of the foremost of her foes, and not the least -dangerous, was George Kinder, the Irish colonel—Daniel’s -emissary in the unlucky touting at the back -stairs of the French Embassy—a gentleman who had -sought vainly to win the good graces of Miss Polly -Wilkes. There was no false delicacy about this warrior, -as the letters in the <i>Morning Post</i> under pseudonyms -‘Jack Spry’ and ‘No Puffer’ bear ample testimony, -and soon he had made the whole world familiar with the -amatory history of Margaret Youngson. Yet Colonel -Kinder was too reckless in the delivery of his attacks, and, -like many another dashing soldier, he found himself often -outflanked. For Mrs Rudd wielded her pen brilliantly, -and her replies to critics of the press were not unworthy—both -in style and context—of a novelist of later -days. At all events, the vulgar diatribes of Colonel -Kinder helped to bring popular sympathy to the side of -his fair antagonist, and this is precisely what the clever -lady must have foreseen. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span></p> - -<p>Another enemy, as inveterate as the Irishman -himself, appeared in the person of a rough-and-ready -sea-dog, ex-Admiral Sir Thomas Frankland—whom -the Perreaus had swindled out of thousands of -pounds—a lineal descendant of Protector Cromwell. -More truculent even than his great ancestor—for surely -Oliver never confiscated ruff or farthingale belonging -to Henrietta Maria—he pounced upon Mrs Rudd’s -clothes, and indeed upon all property that might help -to repay his loans. Remaining loyal to his old friend -the Golden Square apothecary—for the choleric gentleman -was convinced that he was an innocent instrument -in the hands of the woman—he seized anything that -Daniel and his mistress happened to possess. In consequence -of this brigandage there was a pitched battle -between the employees of the admiral and the sheriff’s -officers for the possession of the house in Harley Street, -in which the former got the worst of the tussle. Running -amuck at all who took the other side—Barrister -Bailey, Uncle Stewart, the Keeper of the Lyon -Records—each in turn received a broadside from the -fiery old salt. Shiver-me-timbers Frankland—this Paul -Pry of a lady’s wardrobe—wrought more good out of -evil to the cause of Margaret Rudd than any other man, -and his fair enemy was nothing loth to let him run to -the top of his bent.</p> - -<p>Nowhere was the diplomacy of Daniel Perreau’s -mistress more remarkable than in the negotiations with -her old servant, Mrs Christian Hart. Early in July -there was an interview between the pair in Newgate: the -handmaid compassionate and pliable; the prisoner full -of subtle schemes against her enemies. Barrister Bailey -was present, and a lengthy document was drawn up—a -paper of instructions in the form of a narrative for the -guidance of the faithful ‘Christy’—wherein was set -forth the details of a wicked conspiracy, which the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -servant was to pretend that she had overheard, between -old sea-dog Frankland and Mrs Robert Perreau to -swear away Mrs Rudd’s life. Promising to learn her -story and stick to the text, Mrs Hart went away with -her manuscript; but, frightened by her husband or -bribed by the admiral, in a little while she deserted to -the other side. In no wise dismayed, Margaret Rudd -retorted that ‘Christy’ had volunteered the story, -and that the instructive document was a faithful copy of -the woman’s narrative as dictated by herself, another -copy of which she produced, attested by the faithful -Bailey. Moreover, she alleged that the whole business -was a thing devised by the Perreaus for the purpose of -compromising their enemy, a most dexterous plot to -make it appear that Mrs Rudd was endeavouring to -create false evidence! Thus, even when the first scheme -failed, she gained the effect desired by its very failure. -Poor, persecuted woman, thought the big-hearted British -public, and what a shocking old admiral!</p> - -<p>A little later, the fair captive in Newgate triumphed -over another enemy, one Hannah Dalboux, a second -domestic. This Hannah had been nurse to the youngest -of Daniel Perreau’s children since the mother had been -put in prison. One morning in August the newspapers -announced that the woman had refused to surrender the -child, and that the woman’s husband had tried to thrash -the inevitable Mr Bailey when he paid a visit with his -client’s request. “The baby shall be given up when I -am paid for its board and lodging,” was the sum and -substance of Hannah’s ultimatum. All the same the -child had to be delivered to its rightful owner, and -husband Dalboux was locked up for the assault. A -great opportunity, indeed, which Mrs Rudd did not -neglect. All the journals were full of hints concerning -the horrid old admiral, who had employed people to -steal the lady’s baby as well as her petticoats—about the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> -last two things in the world a swell mobsman would -choose, unless they were accompanied by the proprietress. -Yet the salient fact, remembered by the British public -in a little while, was that this inveterate sea-dog was the -prosecutor at Mrs Rudd’s trial.</p> - -<p>The well-known anecdote told of her by Horace -Walpole, must, if true, have reference to an incident that -occurred during her imprisonment in Newgate.</p> - -<p>“Preparatory to her trial, she sent for some brocaded -silks to a mercer. She pitched on a rich one, and -ordered him to cut off the proper quantity, but the -mercer, reflecting that if she was hanged, as was probable, -he should never be paid, pretended he had no scissors. -She saw his apprehensions, pulled out her pocket-book, -and giving him a bank-note for £20, said, ‘There is a -pair of scissors.’ Such quickness is worth a hundred -screams. We have no Joans of Arc nor Catherines de -Medici, but this age has heroines after its own fashion.”</p> - -<p>Whenever a Gordian knot presented itself the undaunted -Mrs Rudd was always ready with a pair of -scissors!</p> - -<p>Like all other popular entertainers, the fair Margaret -Caroline had rivals in the public favour. On the nineteenth -of August, “one of the prettiest young women in -England,” Jane Butterfield by name, was tried for her -life at Croydon on a charge of poisoning a foully-diseased -old man for whom she kept house. Paramour also to -this rotten William Scawen was Miss Jane, debauched -by him when a child. Although the poor girl was -acquitted amidst tears and huzzas, she lost the fortune -that should have come to her, for her protector, who had -listened to the accusations of his Dr Sanxy—the -instigator of all the proceedings against the innocent -Jane—lived long enough, unhappily, to cross her out of -his will. For a while all England forgot Margaret Rudd -in its generous sympathy for the beautiful heroine of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> -Croydon. Soon also the ubiquitous Elizabeth Chudleigh -monopolised public attention, to the exclusion of everyone -else, under her new rôle as Her Grace of Kingston; -while the sex of the mysterious Chevalier D’Eon continued -to be the subject of many wagers.</p> - -<p>For six months Mrs Rudd remained a prisoner in -Newgate—from the day of Robert Perreau’s condemnation -on the 1st of June until the morning of her own -trial on the 8th of December—using every endeavour so -that she should not be brought to the judgment-seat. A -few weeks after the close of the summer sessions—on the -fourth day of July—she was summoned to Westminster -Hall to listen to the ruling of Chief-Justice Mansfield, an -unrivalled exponent of amazing decisions, with regard to -her status as king’s evidence. Superfine, indeed, was -the quality of Mansfield’s red tape:—“The woman did -not confess that she was an accomplice, but an assistant -by compulsion, therefore she may be presumed to be -innocent, consequently there is no reason why she should -not be tried! Only a <i>guilty</i> person can be admitted as -a witness for the Crown!” Yet the great Chief-Justice -had a more cogent reason still—one that is irrefutable: -“Since the lady did not disclose <i>all</i> she knew, she has -forfeited indulgence!” Quite proper, no doubt, in a -legal sense, but foreign to the eternal ethics of British -equity, that has permitted ‘burker’ Hare to escape the -halter, believing that it is monstrous to ask a jury to try -a prisoner from whom a confession has been extorted -under promise of pardon. There was no false delicacy -about the learned Mansfield’s interpretation of the law.</p> - -<p>However, his lordship was the autocrat of all bigwigs, -and none but the most stout-hearted ventured to challenge -his decisions. When the case was argued by her counsel -before three judges, sitting as a Court of Gaol Delivery -in the middle of September, one Henry Gould, who -feared a Chief-Justice as little as a Gordon riot, appears -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -to have realised that the law must keep its faith. So he -gave a flat contradiction to the ruling of the King’s Bench. -“How can we know that the woman was cognisant of -any other forgery than the one to which she has confessed -unless we bring her to trial?” demanded this judge -Gould. “And if we bring her to trial we break our word!” -Nevertheless his two colleagues, remembering possibly -the Mansfield temper and the Mansfield tongue, maintained -the arguments of the Chief-Justice, and thus it was -decreed that Mrs Rudd must go before a jury. Early in -November twelve judges assented to this decision.</p> - -<div id="i_061" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_061.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption script"><i>Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd -at the Bar of the Old Bailey</i></p> - -<p class="copy script"><i>Published dec.<sup>r</sup> 15.<sup>th</sup> 1775 according to Act of Parliament</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Confident that her long struggle had not been futile, -since this breach of faith must shock the public mind, the -beautiful prisoner prepared to face her terrible ordeal. -In a letter from Strawberry Hill we catch a glimpse of -her on the eve of her trial. “... She sent her lawyer -a brief of which he could not make head nor tail. He -went to her for one more clear. ‘And do you imagine’ -said she, ‘that I will trust you or any attorney in England -with the truth of my story? Take your brief: meet me -in the Old Bailey, and I will ask you the necessary questions.’ -...” And when the time came she kept her -promise to help him through.</p> - -<p>On Friday, the 8th of December, she was placed in -the dock at the Old Bailey. During her long imprisonment -the popular sympathy had come over to her side, -and a friendly crowd filled the galleries before daybreak. -With much tenderness Judge Aston explained -to her the reason that she was put to the bar, his chief -argument being the elusive one that she had not spoken -the <i>whole</i> truth before the magistrates. No woman -could have been more dignified or composed. An air of -melancholy rested on her beautiful face, which appeared -more pale in contrast to her garb of mourning. A silk -polonese cloak, lined with white persian, was thrown -round her shoulders. Beneath, her gown was black satin, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> -<i>appliquée</i> with wreaths of broad silken ribbons, her skirt -draped upon the small hoop worn with an evening toilet. -Above the tall head-dress demanded by fashion, a white -gauze cap, dotted with small knots of black, rested -lightly upon her powdered curls. It was almost the same -costume that she had worn before the three judges.</p> - -<p>Only for a short time were the spectators in doubt as -to the result of the trial. None of the evidence was -convincing; each witness seemed more feeble than his -predecessor. Serjeant Davy, rough and ready, tore their -statements to tatters. To the jury Mrs Robert Perreau -seemed eager to swear aught that might save the life of -her unhappy husband. Admiral Frankland, in the face of -his petticoat theft, appeared to have pressed the prosecution -out of greed and for the sake of revenge. John -Moody, a footman discharged by the prisoner, must have -been regarded, very properly, as a barefaced liar. The -famous Christian Hart, another old servant with a grudge, -who was answered on all points by the evidence of the -indefatigable Bailey, could prove nothing concerning the -forgery cited in the indictment.</p> - -<p>All the while Mrs Rudd kept on passing notes to her -counsel—more than fifty in number—suggesting questions -to baffle the hostile witnesses. The trial lasted for nearly -twelve hours. When the jury returned into court, after -an absence of thirty minutes, Henry Angelo, the fencing-master, -saw the gay auctioneer who was the foreman -throw a meaning smile towards the beautiful prisoner. -“Not guilty according to the evidence before us!” -declared the jury, while the court thundered with -applause. At last her bitter ordeal was over, and -Margaret Rudd, smiling through her tears, stepped gaily -into a coach that was waiting at the door of Old Bailey. -Then she was driven, post haste, to her new home with -the wicked Lord Lyttelton. Certainly this charming -and clever woman was far from being too good to live. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span></p> - -<p>Naturally, the acquittal of Mrs Rudd determined the -fate of the unfortunate twins, who had been kept alive -all this time pending the result of her trial. Only in -one way could Robert, deemed the less guilty, have been -spared. Had Daniel confessed that he was the forger, -exonerating his brother, probably a pardon would have -been granted. Not being built, however, after the -fashion of martyrs, he continued to make frantic protests -of innocence, thereby sealing the doom of both. For -arguments that were incredible merely in the case of -the apothecary became preposterous when applied to -Daniel. Yet the loyalty of Robert was admirable, as -although he knew that his one hope was to be dissociated -from his brother, he would not pretend that he -had been his dupe. Desperate efforts were made to -save the unhappy men. A petition, signed by more -than seventy bankers and influential men of business, -was presented to the King. Mrs Robert Perreau with -her three children, all in deep mourning, flung herself -at the feet of the Queen. But good King George III. -was a stranger to mercy, and Justice Mansfield was not -the sort of person to make the introduction.</p> - -<p>On Wednesday, the 17th of January 1776—a bitter -morning, with keen frost in the air and deep snow on -the ground—the two poor brothers were led out to die. -When they were brought from the chapel into the day-room -within the Press Yard, to await the coming of the -hangmen, they found only a few faithful friends who -wished to say farewell. For, to prevent an unseemly -crowd, good Keeper Akerman stood himself at the -gate of the fatal quadrangle, denying entrance even -to his own acquaintances. Daniel Perreau, apparently -unmoved, gave a bow to his friends, and then sought -the warmth of the fire. Robert, less resolute than his -brother, was unmanned for an instant by the sight of -the cords and halters upon the table. In a few moments -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span> -their steps were ringing across the flags of the courtyard, -as with bound arms they followed the Sheriffs towards -the gate. Those who gazed upon these poor victims of -a merciless law testify that their tread was firm and -their faces hopeful and serene. For, save in that first -base betrayal of a woman, no one can accuse Daniel -and Robert Perreau of cowardice. Five others bore -them company to the grave.</p> - -<p>Shortly after nine o’clock the City Marshals, attended -by the full panoply of sheriffdom, started the procession. -Next came an open cart, covered with black baize, -where sat three of the convicts, and then a hurdle, -dragged by four horses, on which rested a pair of -wretches condemned for coining. And last, there -followed the sombre mourning-coach—a special privilege—with -the unhappy brothers. All around lay a winding -sheet of snow, crusted thick on the housetops, piled in -deep billows against the walls. A piercing east wind -shot down the Old Bailey, while the prison gleamed in -the frosty mist like a monument of hard black ice.</p> - -<p>Beyond Newgate Street the bell in St Sepulchre’s -high steeple rang fiercely over the frozen roofs, as -though pealing forth a pæan of exultation upon the -procession of death. Here there came a halt in the -march, while from the steps of the church, in time-honoured -fashion, the sexton delivered his solemn -exhortation to the condemned prisoners:—</p> - -<p>“All good people, pray heartily unto God for these -poor sinners, who are now going to their death, for -whom this great bell doth toll....</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Lord have mercy upon you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Christ have mercy upon you.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Backwards and forwards around the mourning-coach -surged the mob, clamouring with ribald fury for a -glimpse of the celebrated forgers. Robert Perreau, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span> -sitting with his back to the horses beside one of the -sheriff’s officers, pulled down the glass meekly, and -gazed out with calm, unruffled features. Then the long -journey was resumed. Over the heavy road the wheels -and hoofs slipped and crunched down the slopes of -Snow Hill, and toiled up the steep ascent into Holbourn. -Standing erect in the cart, George Lee, a handsome -boy highwayman, gorgeous in a crimson coat and ruffled -shirt, doffed his gold-laced hat with a parade of gallantry -to a young woman in a hackney coach. Then, while -a hundred eyes and a hundred loathsome jests were -turned upon her, the poor girl burst into a flood of -tears. In another moment her lover had passed away -for ever. Huddled in the same tumbril with the -swaggering youth, a couple of Jews, condemned for -housebreaking, shook and chattered with dread, their -yellow faces livid as death, a strange contrast to their -florid, bombastic companion. Shivering with cold, the -two tortured coiners were jolted over the snow, bound -fast to their hurdle, their limbs turned to ice by the -frost. Within the black coach, the brothers listened -calmly and reverently to the prayers with which Ordinary -Villette, who sat by the side of Daniel, supplicated the -Almighty to pardon these victims unworthy of human -mercy. And all the while, the mob—forty thousand -strong—shrieked, danced and hurled snowballs, maddened -like fierce animals by the scent of blood.</p> - -<p>It was only half-past ten o’clock when the cortege -reached the triple tree. Two separate gallows had -been prepared, for it was not meet that Hebrew and -Christian should hang from the same branch. So the -tumbril was drawn under the smaller crossbar, and, their -halters being fixed, the two Jews were left to their -rabbi; while highwayman Lee, and the coiners Baker -and Ratcliffe, were placed in a second cart. Seated in -their coach a little distance away, the two brothers -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> -watched these ghastly preparations with unruffled mien. -When all was ready Sheriff Newnham gave them a -signal, and they descended to the ground. A moment -later they were standing beside their three wretched -compatriots. Then the Rev. Villette came forward to -play his usual part. Holding the same prayer-book, -Daniel and Robert Perreau followed the services with -pious attention, their reverence forming a marked contrast -to the swagger of the boy highwayman. For -some time they were allowed to converse with the -Ordinary, and each gave him a paper containing a last -solemn declaration of their innocence. It was noticed -that Daniel raised his eyes to the sky, and boldly -asserted that he was guiltless.</p> - -<p>At half-past eleven all was ready for the final scene. -Ordinary Villette offered a last shake of the hand; -Sheriffs Haley and Newnham bowed in solemn farewell. -Having been fee’d by his distinguished clients, -Jack Ketch gave a moment’s grace while the brothers -embraced tenderly. Faithful unto death, the brave -fellows exhibited more nobility in their last few hours -than during the whole of their lives. As the cart drew -away and their foothold slipped beneath them, their -hands were still clasped together. For a full half -minute their fingers remained linked as they dangled -in the air, and then fell apart as they passed into -oblivion beside their five dying companions. Four -days later, on Sunday, the 21st of January, they were -buried together in a vault within St Martin’s Church, -Ludgate Hill.</p> - -<p>No mob could have behaved with more indecency -than the howling, laughing throng that gazed upon this -scene of death, increasing by their wanton rioting the -agony of the poor sufferers a thousandfold. With great -difficulty an army of constables—three hundred in -number—kept a clear space around the scaffold. After -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -the spectacle was over it was found that there had been -numerous accidents. A woman was beaten down and -pressed to death; a youth was killed by a fall from a -coach. One of the stands near the gallows collapsed -during the execution, and three or four persons lost -their lives.</p> - -<p>In the history of crime the case of the unfortunate -brothers forms an important landmark. Although -many a forger had gone to the gallows before, they -were the first ‘distinguished victims’ of the merciless -code. Thus their fate served as a precedent. “If Dr -Dodd is pardoned, then the Perreaus have been -murdered!” quoth the crazy king, when he was asked to -forgive ‘the macaroni parson’ Henceforth, it was as -safe to blow out a man’s brains as to counterfeit his handwriting. -At last, when the first humane monarch for more -than a hundred years set his face against such butchery -the lawgivers were unable to preserve the bloody -statutes that had slaughtered thousands during the half -century which separated the deaths of Robert Perreau -and Henry Fauntleroy. By the side of Mackintosh, -Romilly, and Ewart, the fourth George is entitled to an -honourable place.</p> - -<p>Public opinion changed once more with wonted inconsistency -after the acquittal of Mrs Rudd, and the apothecary -in particular, as the bankers’ petition indicates, -received the widest sympathy. Still, it seems strange -that his guilt could have been doubted by reasonable -persons. No other defence was open to him save the -one he used, old as human sin—it was the woman!—and -even this apology involved the most absurd -pretences. Clearly, the fable had been prearranged -between the conspirators. Treachery brought its own -reward, and Robert Perreau, forgetting that there should -be honour among thieves, was ruined because he did not -trust his fair accomplice to the full extent. No doubt -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> -she would have soothed sea-dog Frankland just as she -pacified the bankers Drummond.</p> - -<p>In all the sordid history the one bright spot is the -loyalty of charming, wicked Mrs Rudd to her grimy -confederates, for the scene in old William Adair’s parlour -on that stormy March morning might well have cost her -life. Had the bankers proved to be curmudgeons, the -Perreaus would not have raised a hand to save her from -the shambles. Since she must have known the men -who were her associates, she must have realised also -her own risk. Yet still she kept her faith, while perceiving -that safety lay in betrayal. Truly a noble act of -heroism, though based upon a mud-heap. Thus when -we bear in mind how the two brothers repaid her trust, -and reflect upon the breach of law-honour sanctioned by -James Mansfield, there comes the obvious suspicion that, -whatever her iniquity, the woman was more than repaid -in her own coin.</p> - -<p>Little is remembered of her subsequent history. A -few days after her trial it is recorded that she visited the -play in Lord Lyttelton’s chariot. During the following -spring she was honoured by the polite attentions of -James Boswell. On the 15th of May of this year, great -Johnson himself declared that he would have visited her -at the same time as his <i>fidus Achates</i> were it not that -they had a trick of putting everything in the newspapers! -Possibly other references occur in ‘Bon Ton Magazines’ -or similar <i>chroniques scandaleuses</i>, now treasured in tree -calf or crushed morocco, and vended at so many guineas -per ounce. There is a hint somewhere that her charms -had begun to wane, although she was only thirty at the -time of her trial, for a life and experiences such as hers -trace lines upon the face and dim the lustre of the eye. -Still, whatever the cause, we may conjecture that her -friendship with Lord Lyttelton did not last much longer -than a couple of years, as, while he succumbed to the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> -famous bad dreams on the 27th of November, she -died before June 1779 in very distressed circumstances. -Possibly she was supplanted by the famous Mrs Dawson.</p> - -<p>In the testimony of her contemporaries there is -unanimity with regard to the beauty and wit of Margaret -Rudd—the sole grudge, even of the women, being that -she was clever enough to cheat the gallows. To pretend -sympathy with those who were saddened because she -received no punishment is superlative cant, for the -penalty would have been out of all proportion to the -offence. Thus the cheers that rang through the Old -Bailey on that December evening long ago find an echo -in our hearts to-day. Moreover, since it was needful -to offer up a propitiatory sacrifice to Mammon, it was a -shrewd common-sense that selected the brothers as the -more deserving of the awful atonement.</p> - -<p>In the scarlet pages of the chronicles of crime there is -not another dazzling figure such as the mistress of poor -Daniel Perreau. Yet she walks across the dim stage in -the guise of no tragedy queen as Miss Blandy. If at -all, she compels our tears amidst our smiles, and such -tears are the most gentle and spontaneous. Light, -sparkling, joyous, she chases pleasure with reckless -laughter, meeting the fate of all who pursue the glittering -wisp, heedless of the deepening mire through which they -tread. It is wrong to watch her dainty person with -delight, but we cannot avert our eyes. Alas, <i>transit -gloria mundi</i>! One of the most excellent of modern -critics speaks truly of this immortal lady as a forgotten -heroine of the <i>Newgate Calendar</i>, and she—the idol -of princes and lord mayors—has not received a niche -among the national biographies! -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span></p> - -<h3 id="BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_THE_PERREAU_CASE">BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE PERREAU CASE</h3> - -<h4>I. <span class="smcap">Contemporary Tracts</span></h4> - -<p>1. <i>The Female Forgery</i>, Or Fatal Effects of Unlawful Love. J. Bew, No. 28 -Paternoster Row. Price 1/6. “With a beautiful whole-length portrait of Mrs -Rudd resolving whether to sign the Bond or forfeit her life. From the capital -drawing of an eminent master.” (Published April 22, 1775.)</p> - -<p>2. <i>Forgery Unmasked</i>, or Genuine Memoirs of the Two Unfortunate Brothers, -Rob. and Daniel Perreau, and Mrs Rudd. A. Grant, Bridges Street, Covent -Garden. Price 1/. “Illustrated with a New and Beautiful Engraving of Mr Dan. -Perreau in the act of threatening to Murder Mrs. Rudd, unless she would sign the -Fatal Bond.” (April 25, 1775. A pro-Rudd Tract, containing the case of Mrs -Rudd, as related by herself, which appeared originally as a series of letters in the -<i>Morning Post</i> from March 27 to April 10.)</p> - -<p>3. <i>Genuine Memoirs of Messieurs Perreau</i>; (Now under Confinement.) With -many Curious Anecdotes relative to Mrs Rudd; G. Allen, No. 59 Paternoster Row. -Price 1/6. Brit. Mus. (April 26, 1775.)</p> - -<p>4. <i>The Genuine Memoirs of the Messers Perreau.</i> G. Kearsley, 46 Fleet Street. -Price 1/6. (Published May 11, 1775. Second edition June 8, 1775.)</p> - -<p>5. <i>The Trials of Robert and Daniel Perreau.</i> T. Bell, at (No. 26) the Top of -Bell-Yard, near Temple Bar. Taken down in shorthand by Joseph Gurney. -(June 6, 1775.)</p> - -<p>6. <i>Mr. Daniel Perreau’s Narrative of His Unhappy Case.</i> T. Evans, No. 50 in -the Strand, near York Buildings. Price 2/. Brit. Mus. (June 9, 1775.)</p> - -<p>7. <i>A Letter to the Right Hon. Earl of Suffolk....</i> In which the Innocence of -Robert Perreau is demonstrated. T. Hookham, at his Circulating Library, the -Corner of Hanover Street, Hanover Square. Price 1/. Brit. Mus. (July 13, 1775.)</p> - -<p>8. <i>Facts</i>, or a Plain and Explicit Narrative of the Case of Mrs. Rudd. T. Bell, -26 Bell-Yard, Temple Bar. Price 2/. Brit. Mus. (July 1775. This tract contains -the “Case of Mrs. Rudd as related by herself,” with the addition of her “Narrative,” -which appeared originally in the <i>Morning Post</i>. July 1, 3, 4, 7, 10, and 14.)</p> - -<p>9. <i>Observations on the Trial of Mr. Robert Perreau.</i> With Mr. Perreau’s Defence, -as spoken on His Trial. S. Bladon, No. 16 Paternoster Row. Price 2/. Brit. -Mus. (July 17, 1775.)</p> - -<p>10. <i>The True Genuine Lives and Trials, etc. of the Two Unfortunate Brothers.</i> -Illustrated with Two New and Beautiful Engravings, 1st. Daniel Perreau threatening -to Murder Mrs Rudd .... 2nd. The two Perreaus lamenting their unhappy fate. -J. Miller, White Lion Street, Goodman’s Fields. Brit. Mus. (1775.)</p> - -<p>11. <i>An Account of the Arguments of Counsel....</i> On Sat., Sept. 16. -1775, whether Mrs. Rudd ought to be tried, etc. By Joseph Gurney. Sold by -Martha Gurney, No. 34 Bell-Yard, Temple Bar. 1775. price 1/6. Brit. Mus.</p> - -<p>12. <i>The Case of Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd</i>, from her first Commitment to -Newgate on Thursday, the 1st of June, last to her final acquittal at the Old Bailey, -Friday, December 8, 1775. J. Bew, No. 28 Paternoster Row. (December 15, 1775.) -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span></p> - -<p>13. The Whole Proceedings on the King’s Commission of the Peace, Oyer and -Terminer, and Gaol Delivery for the City of London; and also the Gaol Delivery for -the County of Middlesex; Held at Justice Hall in the Old Bailey, on Wednesday, -the 6th of December, 1775, and the following Days. Revised and published by John -Glynn, Serjeant at Law and Recorder of London. No. 1. Part I. Printed by -William Richardson for Edward and Charles Dilby, price 9d. (December 19, 1775.)</p> - -<p>14. <i>The Trial at Large of Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd.</i> Elucidated by such -Matter as never before transpired. By Mr. Bailey, Barrister-at-Law. Sold at No. 26 -Bell-Yard near Temple Bar. (1775.) <i>London Library.</i></p> - -<p>15. <i>A Solemn Declaration of Mr. Daniel Perreau....</i> Written by himself and -Delivered to a Friend in the Cells of Newgate on Sunday, January 14. 1776. -T. Evans, near York Buildings in the Strand, price 1/. Brit. Mus. (January 22, -1776.)</p> - -<p>16. <i>A Genuine Account of the Behaviour and Dying Words of Daniel and Robert -Perreau.</i> By the Reverend John Villette, Ordinary of Newgate. Printed for the -Author and sold at his house, No. 1 Newgate St. 1776. Brit. Mus. (1776.)</p> - -<p>17. <i>An Explicit Account of the Lives, Trials, Dying Words, and Burial of the -Twin Brothers.</i> Brit. Mus. (1776. Without the publisher’s name.)</p> - -<p>18. <i>Mrs. Marg. Car. Rudd’s Case Considered, Respecting Robert Perreau.</i> In an -Address to Henry Drummond Esquire, J. Wilkie, No. 71, In St Paul’s Churchyard. -Price 1/. (January 26, 1776.)</p> - -<p>19. <i>Mrs. M. C. Rudd’s Genuine Letter to Lord Weymouth....</i> Together with -An Explanation of the Conduct of a certain Great City Patriot. G. Kearsly in Fleet -St. Price 1/. Brit. Mus. (March 5, 1776. The original letter appeared in the -<i>Morning Post</i>, January 16, 1776.)</p> - -<p>20. <i>A Letter from Mrs. Christian Hart to Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd.</i> J. -Williams. No. 46, opposite Fetter Lane, Fleet Street, price 1/. Brit. Mus. -(Published March 23, 1776.)</p> - -<p>21. <i>She is, and She is Not</i>; A Fragment of the True History of Miss Caroline De -Grosberg, alias Mrs. Potter, etc. J. Bew, No. 28 Paternoster Row. Price 1/6 -Brit. Mus. (Published April 24, 1776.)</p> - -<p>22. <i>Authentic Anecdotes of the Life and Transactions of Mrs. Margaret Rudd</i> ... -in a series of letters to ... Miss Mary Lovell. “In two neat pocket volumes, -price 4/ sewed, or 5/ bound, embellished with a striking likeness taken from the life -and engraved by G. Bartolozzi.” J. Bew, No. 28 Paternoster Row. Brit. Mus. -(Published June 16, 1776.)</p> - -<p>23. <i>Prudence Triumphing over Vanity and Dissipation</i>; or the History of the -Life, Character, and Conduct of Mr. Robert, and Mr. Daniel Perreau, and Mrs. Rudd. -J. Maling, Bookseller, the corner of Fleet Market, Ludgate-hill; J. Bradshaw, No. -40, St John Street, Clerkenwell; and J. Naples, Greenwich. Brit. Mus.</p> - -<p>24. <i>A Particular Account of the Dreadful and Shocking Apparitions</i> of the two -unfortunate Perreaus. Brit. Mus. (Broadside. Published later than February 30, -1776.)</p> - -<p>Lowndes mentions also:—</p> - -<p>25. <i>An Authentic Account of the Particulars which appeared on the Trials of -Robert and Daniel Perreau.</i> Nassau, pt. ii. 746.</p> - -<p>26. <i>The History of the Life, Character, and Conduct of Mr. Daniel and Robert -Perreau and Mrs. Rudd.</i> London 8. vo.</p> - -<p>27. <i>Law Observations on the Case of Mrs. Rudd.</i> By a Gentleman of the Inner -Temple. 8. vo. 1/6. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span></p> - -<h3>II. <span class="smcap">Contemporary Newspapers and Magazines</span></h3> - -<table> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">1.</td> - <td><i>The Public Advertiser</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">March 15-</td> - <td class="tdc">December 1775.</td> - <td class="tdc">January 1776.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">2.</td> - <td><i>The Daily Advertiser</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">15</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">3.</td> - <td><i>The Morning Chronicle</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">13</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">4.</td> - <td><i>The London Chronicle</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">16</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">5.</td> - <td><i>The Morning Post</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">16</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">6.</td> - <td><i>The Gazetteer</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">15</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">7.</td> - <td><i>Lloyd’s Evening Post</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">17</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">8.</td> - <td><i>The Evening Post</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">17</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">9.</td> - <td><i>The Craftsman</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">June 1775.</td> - <td colspan="2"></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="6"> -<p>The <i>Morning Post</i> of Thursday, January 18, 1776, contains a long account -of the execution of the Perreaus. There are full descriptions in the other -newspapers.</p></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc">10.</td> - <td colspan="5"><i>Gentleman’s Magazine.</i></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="6"> - <div class="poetry"> - <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i34">1775.<br /></span> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i6">“The Perreau Frauds,” pp. 148-150, 205.<br /></span> - <span class="i6">“Trials of the Perreaus,” pp. 278-284, 300.<br /></span> - <span class="i6">“The Case of Mrs. Rudd,” pp. 347, 349, 452, 603-5.<br /></span> - <span class="i6">“Poems on Mrs. Rudd,” pp. 443, 492.<br /></span> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i34">1776.<br /></span> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i6">“Petitions on behalf of the Perreaus,” 22, 23, 44.<br /></span> - <span class="i6">“Execution of the Perreaus,” 44, 45, 46.<br /></span> - <span class="i6">“Pamphlets on the Case,” 176, 278.<br /></span> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i34">1779.<br /></span> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i6">“Reported death of Mrs Rudd,” p. 327.<br /></span> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i34">1800.<br /></span> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i6">“Reported death of Mrs Rudd,” pp. 188, 483.<br /></span> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i34">1809.<br /></span> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i6">“Death of Valentine Rudd,” p. 581.<br /></span> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i34">1834.<br /></span> - </div><div class="stanza"> - <span class="i6">Reference to the Perreau Case, <i>vide</i> obituary notice of Alex. Adair, - part ii. p. 318.<br /></span> - - <p>The report of the celebrated Mrs Rudd’s death in vol. lxx. is inaccurate, - as reference to the parish register of Hardingstone, Northampton, shows that - a Mrs William Rudd was buried on February 7, 1800. There is evidence that - she died in 1779.</p> - </div></div> - </div></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">11.</td> - <td colspan="5"><i>The London Magazine.</i> Published by R. Baldwin at the Rose, Paternoster Row.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdc" colspan="5"> - <p><span style="margin-left: 3em;">(1775), pp. 300-307, 356-7, 376, 429, 488, 602, 657.</span><br /> - <span style="margin-left: 3em;">(1775), pp. 53-54, 161, 327.</span><br /> - </p></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">12.</td> - <td colspan="5"><i>The Town and Country Magazine.</i> Published by A. Hamilton Junior near St. John’s Gate.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdc" colspan="5"> - <p> - <span style="margin-left: 3em;">(1775), pp. 300, 482, 629.</span><br /> - <span style="margin-left: 3em;">(1776), p. 39.</span><br /> - </p></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">13.</td> - <td colspan="5"><i>The Westminster Magazine.</i> Published by Richardson and Urquhart at the - Royal Exchange, and T. Wright, Essex St., Strand.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdc" colspan="5"> - <p> - <span style="margin-left: 3em;">(1775), pp. 119, 297, 304, 390, 475, 655.</span><br /> - <span style="margin-left: 3em;">(1776), pp. 41-43.</span><br /> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span></p></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">14.</td> - <td colspan="5"><i>The Convivial Magazine.</i> Published by T. Bell. Bell-Yard near Temple -Bar.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdc" colspan="5"> - <p> - <span style="margin-left: 3em;">(1775), pp. 33, 98.</span><br /> - <span style="margin-left: 3em;">(1776), pp. 171, 223, 247, 291.</span><br /> - </p></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">15.</td> - <td colspan="5"><i>The Annual Register</i>, xviii. 229.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<h3>THE SONG “ROBIN ADAIR”</h3> - -<p>V. <i>Notes and Queries.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="i4"> -Third Series, v. 404, 442, 500; vi. 35, 96, 176, 254.<br /> -Fourth Series, viii. 548; ix. 99, 130, 197.<br /> -Fifth Series, v. 20.<br /> -Eighth Series, vii. 267; x. 196, 242, 426; xi. 32.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Although both words and music may have been plagiarised from old Irish -ballad and old Irish melody, it is probable that the story of Surgeon Robert -Adair and Lady Caroline Keppel suggested the later version of John Braham, -December 17, 1811.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>—We are indebted to Sir Thomas Frankland for one of the most charming -mezzotints by Wm. Ward, after Hoppner—a picture of his two daughters. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span></p> - -<h2 id="THE_KINGS_ENGRAVER">THE KING’S ENGRAVER<br /> - -<span class="medium">THE CASE OF WILLIAM WYNNE RYLAND, 1783</span></h2> - -<p>About the time that Miss Blandy was commencing her -ill-fated amour with Captain Cranstoun, a dark-eyed boy -with earnest, clear-cut features, often carrying a portfolio -of drawings under his arm, might have been met by any -one who strolled along Fleet Street or the Strand in the -early morning between Charing Cross and the Old Bailey. -From his home beneath the grim shadow of Newgate -prison, where his father, Edward Ryland, prints and -engraves in a house next door to that in which thief-taker -Wild levied blackmail, the young artist trudges each day -to the St Martin’s Lane Academy. And should one -meet him in the autumn of 1749, he will be wearing a -suit of solemn black; and his grave, eager face will -seem more sombre than wont, for his patron and godfather, -the good and kind Sir Watkin Williams-Wynne, -has been killed by a fall from his horse, to the unspeakable -grief of every son of gallant little Wales.</p> - -<div id="i_074" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_074.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption large">Guil.<sup>us</sup> Wynne Ryland,<br /> -Hist.<sup>æ</sup> Calcographus.</p> -</div> - -<p>Around the school of drawing where young Ryland is -learning his craft, a new world is springing into life—a -world of fancy, grace, and colour, destined to free old -London from the sable sway of dulness. It is the world -of art, over which the deep black deluge has rested for -so long, soon to be peopled with the bright creations -of genius. William Wynne Ryland will see some of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span> -these great ones ere he leaves St Martin’s Lane for the -studio of a new master. Often, as he passes the coffee-tavern -of Old Slaughter, he must catch sight of a placid, -round-faced young man, with a mild pair of eyes that -seem to need the aid of glasses, hurrying down Long -Acre, while he envies Mr Reynolds, the portrait-painter, -who has the entry to the Club that meets beneath the -roof where Pope has held his court. Or, when he -looks up at the house where the elegant Thornhill -lived and worked, now the residence of Beau Hayman, -more at home with the bottle than the brush, he may -observe a tall, sentimental youth springing through the -door, whose thoughts are far away amidst the woods -and dales of Sudbury, where dwells a pretty miss called -Peggy. And possibly, a little later, he will listen to -the romantic fable that Tom Gainsborough has married -a princess in disguise. Sometimes he may meet a -middle-aged compatriot, named Richard Wilson, whose -glowing scenes from Nature are to wrest the guerdon -from France, and to found the incomparable school of -British landscape.</p> - -<p>Frequently a smile will steal over Wynne Ryland’s -grave, nervous lips, as a small boy with a big head and a -long, Punch-like body scampers down the lane, whirling -his crooked legs, and he will hail the truant with the -cry: “What, little Joey, have you been tolling for a -funeral?” But the breathless lad, who has wasted too -much time in his favourite game of assisting his friend -the sexton at St James’s Church, scuttles back to his -casts and models. Perhaps, one day, this little Joey -Nollekens, who in good time produces many a beautiful -bust and statue, will be allowed to take his friend into -the studio of the great good-natured Roubiliac. “Hush, -hush!” we can hear the volatile master cry, as he drags -his young admirer before the figure which his deft chisel -has caressed for a last time; “look, he vil speak in a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span> -minute!” And as the youth gazes upon the noble work, -his quick Welsh blood, warmed by the infection of genius, -glows with like ambition to do and dare. Soon, also, he -becomes a pupil of the sculptor in St Peter’s Court, from -whom, whatever else he learns, he must acquire a boundless -self-confidence.</p> - -<p>Shortly after the death of his godfather, young Wynne -Ryland, now about seventeen years old, is bound apprentice -to engraver Ravenet, who came over from France -to help Hogarth with his plates, and who has set up a -school south of the river in Lambeth Marsh. As the -crows flies, it is a short journey from the Old Bailey, but -one must turn up Ludgate Hill, wind round Black -Friars through Water Lane, holding one’s nose if the -wind comes north-west down the grimy Fleet, and -from the steps take wherry to the Surrey side. Across -the Thames, the wide, deep ditches, bordered by their -fringes of willows, have changed the moss into a fertile -plain.</p> - -<p>Old Ryland is careful to conciliate the French artist -now and then by a judicious commission, which takes -the form of woolly book-plates after Sam Wale—classic -pictures according to Queen Anne traditions, filled with -urns and hose-pipe torches, wooden scrolls of parchment, -and busts on pillar-boxes, gentlemen in cotton dressing-gowns, -with stony beards, and demure ladies in flowing -nightshirts. We meet these curious plates in a rare -copy of the Book of Common Prayer, with the sign of -Edward Ryland of the Old Bailey, and similar ones in -Sir John Hawkins’ interpretation of Old Isaac. Young -Wynne takes his part in the work, and though Master -François gives him the lead, aided by fellow-countrymen -Canot and Scotin, while the senior prentices, Grignion -and Walker, also ply their gravers, a glance at ‘Luke -the Physician,’ or ‘St Matthew at the Receipt of -Custom’ will show that the youthful Welshman already -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span> -is the equal of the best of them. Thus for five years -he works under Ravenet.</p> - -<p>It must have been a happy home in that dingy, sunless -house in the Old Bailey, where Wynne Ryland’s early -days were spent. The father, busy and prosperous, -devoted to his wife, eager to encourage the talents of his -boys, and observing proudly, with expert eye, the amazing -genius of his third son. Yet over all there broods -the sad shadow of the grim prison. Often in the night -the silence is broken by the hoarse voice of the bellman -chanting this refrain:—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“You prisoners that are within,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who for wickedness and sin,<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“After many Mercies shown you, are now appointed to Dye to Morrow -in the Forenoon: Give Ear and understand that to-morrow the Greatest -Bell of St Sepulchre’s shall toll for you, in Form and Manner of a -Passing Bell, as used to be tolled for those that are at the Point of -Death....”</p></blockquote> -</div> - -<p>It is the loathly knell of the unhappy wretches within -the deep black walls. And in the morning the awful -boom of St Sepulchre rolls over the housetops, while a -ribald, drunken mob chokes the street. Then comes -the clank and clatter of sheriffs officers, and, as the -procession moves from the iron portals of Newgate, -there follows an open cart, driven by a gruesome creature -astride a coffin, and in which, bound and quaking, lie -the poor passengers to Tyburn. Such scenes are a -portion of the boyhood of William Wynne Ryland, the -great engraver.</p> - -<p>But, after the long years of his apprenticeship have -rolled away, a brighter and more glittering life than -dingy old London, or even the whole world, can show, -comes to the young genius. Since his youth Paris has -been whispering to him her enticing summons—Paris, -the Cyprus of art, where beauty, love, and colour walk -hand in hand, and where he whose fingers can fashion -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span> -their charms may become mightiest of the mighty. -Two friends and old school-fellows are eager to make -the same pilgrimage, and the indulgent parent, whose -foresight perceives whither the talents of his gifted son -will lead him, gives his consent. Although he knows -that if the lowering storm-clouds shall burst, a visit -to France may mean exile until the close of the war, -he resolves that the young man shall pursue his art -in the studios of the great French masters. So, early -one morning the three enthusiasts mount Christopher -Shaw’s stage-coach at the sign of the ‘Golden Cross’ -and resting at Canterbury over night, reach Dover in -good time the next day. With a fair wind, a stout -smack will touch the opposite coast in a few hours, -where they must tolerate a much less speedy team and -a more shaky vehicle along the road to Paris.</p> - -<p>It is the eve before the deluge, and a sunset, having -no part in the morrow, most brilliant and gorgeous -of aspect. To the eye of the poet or painter there is -no blemish in the fair landscape. His vision rests only -upon graceful palace or shining gardens. Around the -fountains, over the lawns, glide the creatures of Arcadia—beautiful -gentlemen in dazzling frocks and scented -ruffles, toying with bejewelled sword or flicking the lid -of a golden snuff-box, moving their satin limbs in obeisance -to their fair partners. Sweet ladies with snowy -ringlets falling upon bare shoulders, the bloom of roses -in their cheeks, and the sheen of pearls on their round -breasts, fluttering like butterflies amidst the flower-beds, -clad in shimmering draperies, flashing in a blaze of -colour. Or, in the twinkling of an eye, the picture -may dissolve, to become more entrancing. My lord -now trips the mead a dainty Strephon, tuning his pipes, -and shaking the ribbands at his knees, while his highborn -Phyllis, still wearing her powdered hair and disdainful -patches, twirls her silken ankles in the graceful -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span> -freedom of short frocks. What though these scenes -dwell only on the canvas of the painter of Valenciennes! -They are as real as were visions of angels to the dreamer -Blake! In the eyes of the artist the whole of laughing -France must be a fairy Arcadia such as this, for the -witching Pompadour, who fulfils the thoughts of prescient -Watteau, directs the dance.</p> - -<p>Then from the thicket comes the tinkle of silvery -laughter, where the paths wind beneath the branches -to lonely dells, through which the sunlight streams in -floods of amber between the leaves. Here, amidst the -gold and olive shadows, which chase each other in -flickering play round some graven image of goat-faced -Pan, flits a wanton lady, flying from her persistent -lover, but laughing, tripping, and calling to him still, -as she draws him onward. Or, in the cool grove, -crowned by a wealth of ivy-tinged greenery, a sylph-like -figure sweeps through the air in her velvet swing, -and her shining arms, raised to grasp the ropes, throw -the contours of her form into shapely pose. From the -bushes beneath sounds a burst of raillery, as her swain -rises to his feet, gazing with rapture as the pretty girl -flies past him and returns, adoring the tiny slippers, -and the silken hose that vanish in dainty curves beneath -a fluttering screen of drapery. The fancy of Fragonard -has painted the spirit of his age—a world full of leaves, -and flowers, and sunshine, where life moves with the -rhythmic cadence of the swing, where every breath is -pleasure, recking naught of pain or death.</p> - -<p>Each palace that crowns these fairy gardens, wherein -the splendour of man reaches its highest goal, is a -sanctuary dedicated to the worship of feminine beauty. -From every wall glows her picture, majestic in opulent -lines of dazzling flesh—Cytherea draped in creamy -foam, or languishing upon her couch with robes of -gossamer, the divinity of the shrine. All the fair -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> -throng of lords and ladies, flashing with brilliants, -shining in silk attire, are her votaries, who bow in -idolatry beneath the spell. More than human are these -worshippers, for they have tasted the honey-dew upon -her lips, and have drunk the milk of Paradise. Yet -only half their life-story has been told by François -Boucher. As semi-divinities he has limned them, -sporting as children around their Venus-mother, -grovelling as satyrs before the throne of their queen. -We must turn to other pictures to view their destiny. -Their fate is that of all mortals who seek to share the -pleasures of the gods. Duped by the alluring smile of -the deity, they spread their tiny wings to invade her -home, and the outraged divinity turns upon them in -her wrath and smites them with death.</p> - -<p>Not one of those who immortalise the romance of -that fairy age can read the writing on the wall. Boucher, -Fragonard, and their gay school, who are as blind to -the future as the dead painter of Valenciennes, depict -only what they see. The squalid little leech of Boudry -is still in his country home, or wandering, an enthusiastic -boy, in greedy pursuit of science to the sunny south; -the sea-green <i>avocat</i> of Arras has not yet looked upon -the light; the lion-hearted tamer of the Gironde also is -unborn. Even the surly, pock-fretten features of giant -Mirabeau have never passed through the streets of -Paris. A long, brilliant night is still before the giddy -capital.</p> - -<p>None of the ominous hungry growls from squalid -purlieus can arrest the ears of young Wynne Ryland, -who has come to Paris to shake off the memory of sad -Old Bailey, who sees naught but the colour and romance. -Thus he breathes into his soul, with strong, eager lungs, -the perfume-scented air. With the enthusiasm of genius -he plunges into work at the seductive studio of the -inspector of the Gobelins. Sieur Boucher is at the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -summit of his fame, petted by Madame de Pompadour, -commissioned by King Pan. Surely the handsome, -dark-faced Welshman, who can trace on copper the -gallant compositions of his master as finely as any pupil -of Le Bas, must have won the love of the gay, profligate -painter. And, should it be his humour, what a strange -world Monsieur Boucher can reveal to the pupil’s eyes! -One day, perhaps, he may hold before him a jewelled -fan, glowing with luscious pictures, which he has just -created for la belle Marquise. Or it will be a fancy -sketch of some lacquered tabouret that he has designed -for her private room at Versailles. Sometimes he may -grasp the young man’s arm, and, drawing him a little -aside, will open a secret portfolio, whispering, with a -smile upon his pleasure-worn face, and drooping his -dissolute eyelids, “Pour le boudoir de Madame dans -l’Hôtel de l’Arsenal.” Then, while Wynne Ryland gazes -upon the beautiful Anacreontic pictures, which no scene -within the cities of the plains can have excelled, his -black, thoughtful eyes will flash with admiration, and his -white teeth glitter between his parted lips. It is no -place for innocence, nor for narrow virtue, this glowing, -gilded salon of Sieur Boucher the incomparable.</p> - -<p>Yet the young Welshman does not neglect his proper -craft. As the work of later years bears eloquent -testimony, none of the gifted pupils of Le Bas have -profited more from the instruction of that famous school. -Jacques Philippe, as might be expected, turns him on -to the plates of his <i>Fables choisies</i>, designs after -Oudry-interpretations of La Fontaine parables, spread -over four mighty tomes, beloved of the amateur who -collects the <i>estampes galantes</i>. Volume II., bearing date -1755, contains a couple of these—with signature in -Gallic orthography, ‘G. Riland’—portraits of peacock-feathered -jay and boastful mule, humanised in the text, -though strangely wooden in the picture. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span></p> - -<p>Still, the line-engraver, with all his splendid art, is not -the master that moulds the destiny of William Wynne. -Among the numerous pupils of Le Bas is an ingenious -person named Gilles Demarteau, who is practising a new -method of working his copper plate with tiny dots which -make the finished print as smooth and soft as a drawing -in chalk. Out of this arises a vehement artistic causerie, -for it is a sure fact that a man of forty, one Jean Charles -François, has received a pension of 600 francs for this -same invention, which, some say, another before him -invented after all. Ryland, no doubt, learns everything -he can from both pioneers, without troubling to ascertain -the original discoverer, and, as this ‘stipple’ manner -takes his fancy, he soon becomes as dexterous as those -who teach him. Further, he finds that this same dotted -plate may be tinted by the engraver’s brush, giving an -almost perfect illusion of a picture in water-colours.</p> - -<p>At last the young Welshman makes up his mind to -complete the grand tour, without which the education of -an artist is incomplete. Some say that the medal he -gained at the Académie Royale entitles him to free -tuition at Rome. At all events, he flies south to blunt -his pencil upon the gnarled contours of Michael Angelo, -and to shade the tender lines of Raphael—for the immortals -of Leyden and Seville have not yet thrown these -high priests from their altar. This same enterprise -proves of much service to him when, in a year or two, the -great lords at home wish him to transcribe, in the novel -‘Demarteau-after-Boucher’ fashion, their collections of -the great masters. Hitherto he has been true to his -first love, the line-engraving, in the dainty fashion of Le -Bas, and the Parisian connoisseurs of ’57, who glue -their glasses upon the rounded limbs of Leda toying with -her swan—a print after Boucher which Ryland has pulled -from his plate—acknowledge that some good has come -from Angleterre at last. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span></p> - -<p>With this same work the Welsh engraver first woos -the British public, showing it at the Exhibition of the -Society of Artists in Spring Gardens in the May of ’61. -About this date, after an absence of five summers, when -he is in his twenty-ninth year, he returns home to -England. Chance has much in store for him. For a -long time the canny Prime Minister, known to most of -his fellow-countrymen as the Boot—an opprobrious, not a -popular term,—has been looking out for a cheap line in -engravings. Some time ago, courtly fellow-Scot Allan -Ramsay had painted wonderful portraits of the noble -favourite and royal Prince George; so, when the first -was Premier and the other Defender of the Faith, it -became necessary for the welfare of the nation that -their lineaments should be scattered broadcast through -the medium of a copper-plate.</p> - -<p>“Robie Strange is my man,” thinks painter Allan, and -makes the mistake of telling his illustrious ex-sitters -before he has caught his engraver. There is a dreadful -<i>contretemps</i>. Stout-hearted Robie is acquainted with -Scottish truck—he will have none of them. “Off to -Rome to copy great masters,” is the excuse. “Cannot -waste four years over your pictures!” But in stout -Robie’s heart of hearts there may lurk another motive; -for Robie has whirled his claymore at Prestonpans, and -Charlie is his darling. Indeed, he might have gone the -way of wry-necked old Lovat had not a devoted damsel -allowed him to hide beneath her hoop—to whose skirts, -very properly, he remained attached ever after. Robie -snorts at the canny price they offer him. A hundred -pounds to engrave the cod-fish features of royal George! -when Rome and the great masters are calling loudly, -where he will kiss hands with his own King James III. -“No, thank you!” says Robie, and, packing up chalks -and drawing-board, takes himself off on his travels.</p> - -<p>In this dilemma Mæcenas Bute, who, to do him justice, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -keeps his eyes open for budding genius, hears of the -young Welsh engraver, the beater of Frenchmen on -their own soil. Being an art-collector, probably he has -seen an assortment of the fleshy prints after Boucher. -So, as Robie is with Charlie over the water, Bute -secures Ryland to copy his likeness by the polite Allan, -and, in due course, “the handsomest legs in England”—legs -literally fit for a boot—appear in a very creditable -line-engraving, emblazoned with a coat of arms. -Thus in this month of February 1763 William Wynne -has reached the top of the tree, happy and smiling, at -Ye Red Lamp, Russell Street, Covent Garden, close to -Button’s and Will’s. The portrait of the beautiful -legs, along with his red-chalk imitations—employed -industriously ever since his return from the Continent -in several sketches from the old masters,—convinces -‘Modern Mæcenas’ that Robie’s room is better than -his company. A word whispered in the ear of the -royal mother would be enough to persuade apron-string -George that the clever Welshman is the artist -for his features. At all events the great honour is -offered, and Taffy, very shrewdly keeping his head, -takes care that, from his point of view, it is a good deal. -It is a most amazing deal—£100 down for the drawings, -£50 a quarter as long as the work lasts, and the -proceeds of the copyright. However, thus it stands—Wynne -Ryland blazons himself with the fearsome title, -‘Calcographus Regis Britanniæ’ and, setting up in -the true manner of a master, begins to take pupils. -One of these, worthy James Strutt, who comes to him -the year after his achievement with the beautiful legs, -remains a trusted friend through life, and the tutor, in -turn, of his eldest son, who, alas, meets an early death.</p> - -<p>During the next four years, being paid for time, -Ryland, like a true British workman, continues to pick -out slowly the salmon-lips and Gillray stare of his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -royal master. A large number of the red-chalk engravings -from pictures of the great painters in the -possession of noble patrons belong to this period; and -when George is finished, he goes on to copy Cotes’ -picture of the Queen with the infant Princess Royal in -her arms. While he is basking in smiles from the -throne, he is employed in other ways, visiting Paris -in the middle of his work to collect engravings for -the royal connoisseur, which prints, we are told by -the festive Wille, are “magnifiques épreuves ... fourniés -comme pour un roi.”</p> - -<div id="i_084" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_084.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption large"><i>HIS MAJESTY KING GEORGE III.</i><br /> - -<span class="medium"><i>ENGRAVED BY RYLAND.</i></span></p> -</div> - -<p>These are the halcyon times of the artist’s life—these -are the days when we catch a glimpse of him swaggering -along Bow Street, with silver-hilted sword and -ample ruffles, by the side of a heavy-jowled brawler of -handsome person and agile, spiteful tongue, listening -with black, eager eyes and flashing teeth to the jibes -and sallies of his friend. Or, beneath the arm of this -same aggressive Charles Churchill, he turns into Will’s -coffee-house, and sits in easy deference on the fringe -of a little ring, while he hears a torrent of charming, -vicious diatribe, at the expense of poor patron Bute, -pouring from the wine-stained lips of the cross-eyed -apostle of liberty. Or perhaps poet Charles, who -wields the Twickenham rapier in the fashion of a -butcher with his cleaver, may take up this Dunciad of -peers, roaring out a gruesome fable—how poor John -Ayliffe was strung up at Tyburn to shut his lips concerning -the crimes of peculator Fox. Then, while they -talk of the forged deed that brought the luckless agent -to the gallows, a shudder may pass through the graceful -limbs of artist William as he thinks what a small matter -may take a man to the triple tree.</p> - -<p>At other times two chairs will halt in Russell Street, -and Ryland and architect John Gwynn, gorgeous in -brocade frocks, satin knee-breeches, and silk stockings, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -will step out gaily, giving the order to their bearers in -two significant monosyllables—‘Carlisle House’ And -among all the dazzling throng that crowds the salons of -fair Therese Imer, alas for the worth of poor human -nature! the one we know best—better, even, than the -old maid in knickerbockers from Strawberry Hill—is -a broad-limbed Italian, with frizzy hair and fierce nigger -eyes; which same African-tinged gentleman moves -through the company with much self-conscious play of -robust leg, and a truculent stare, ogling such a one as -half-draped Iphigenia Chudleigh, or making obeisance -to buxom Caroline Harrington, while the whisper follows, -keeping company the almost filial glance of pretty Sophy -Cornelys—“The famous Casanova—it is the Chevalier -de Seingalt.” Then, should Wynne Ryland draw close -while the splendid blackguard babbles French to Milord -Pembroke or Milord Baltimore, he will hear a dreadful -tale of a certain Mademoiselle la Charpillon, who, to -the eternal honour of her frail fame, has humiliated the -sooty rascal to his native gutter. Wynne Ryland and -companion John are very fond of these light and airy -assemblies in Soho Square.</p> - -<p>For the clever engraver his connoisseur Majesty seems -to foster a great regard. Possibly, the proof prints of -Wille—‘fit for a king’—have been picked up for an old -song, and tickle his thrifty soul. At all events, he is -pleased to grant to the artist a most amazing royal boon; -for, at his intercession, he—the third George, by the -grace of God—actually pardons a capital felon. A -ne’er-do-weel rascal this same poor felon, so tradition -relates, but all the same he is Wynne Ryland’s own -brother. Near Brentford, or upon breezy Hounslow -Heath, or some such fashionable highwayman resort, in -a drunken frolic—after the fashion of Silas Told’s respited -friend David Morgan—he calls upon two unprotected -females to stand and deliver. And for this same -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span> -daring frolic the rash Richard Ryland is taken, tried, and -handed over to Jack Ketch. And Jack soon would have -made short work of Richard if the favourite engraver to -the King had not moved the royal bowels to compassion. -For, incredible though it may seem, his Majesty does -turn his thumb to the side of mercy, and brother Richard -receives pardon; after which exertion the royal bowels -remain obdurate for all time.</p> - -<div id="i_087" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_087.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption large"><span class="smcap">Charles Rogers Esq<sup>r</sup>.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>At last the regal portrait is finished, hanging in state -upon the walls of the ‘Great Room’ belonging to the -excellent Incorporated Society, when it opens its exhibition -on the 22nd of April 1767. The artist is now -a resident in Stafford Row, close to the Green Park, or, -rather, as he prefers to particularise his address, ‘near -the Queen’s Palace,’ upon whose picture, with the -slumbering baby Princess in her arms, he is engaged. -His portrait by Pierre Falconet, drawn during the next -year, shows him a man in the prime of life, with clean-cut, -delicate profile and a neat bob-wig tied by black ribbon, -published by a dutiful pupil who trades as Bryer & Co. -in Cornhill. This kind of trade, unhappily, has much -allurement for Wynne Ryland, who, with his splendid -monopoly of plates—the royal George, her maternal -Majesty, the Modern Mæcenas with his shapely legs—seems -to scent appetising profits. So Bryer & Co. -becomes Ryland & Co., and any of the royal public who -desire these regal portraits must purchase them from the -proprietors at No. 27 Cornhill, near the Royal Exchange. -Unhappily for this same No. 27, the public—enamoured -of the Wilkes squint and disdaining the regal stare—do -not treat these prints in the manner of hot cakes, and -upon a fateful day in December 1771, No. 27 is in the -hands of the broker’s men.</p> - -<p>Early in the same year a strange thing happens in -Ryland’s studio. A proud father brings along his fourteen-year-old -son, a boy of splendid and weird genius, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> -as the sequel shows—a sequel prolific in pictures of the -immortal sheik struggling against his environment of -sands and storms and improvidence, which, like his -interpreter Blake, sheik Job, overwhelmed by tree-trunk -legs and half a gale of beard, regards as the judgment -of his God. But this weird boy with the large head and -amazing eyes objects to the parental scheme of making -him a pupil of the great engraver. “Father, I do not -like the man’s face,” murmurs boy Blake, when the pair -have left Ryland’s studio. “It looks as if he will live to -be hanged!” “Prescience, intuition—all the things not -dreamt of in thy philosophy,” babble his legatee mystics, -bowing the knee to jaundiced mind as rapturously as -to portraits of human abortions, aping verbal harmony -of empty sound, plastering deformities with giraffe necks -and swollen limbs in a wealth of muddy hair and a -saffron skin—good and sedulous disciples. Boy Blake -can have heard nothing of the brother Richard hanging-escape! -Such a small affair has never been breathed by -fond parents who go to entrust a weird son to brother -Wynne! Prescience, intuition, are more potent physical -instincts than the throb of suggestion or empiric thought. -Thus clamour legatee mystics, spurning the simple -mental machinery put into motion by the association of -ideas.</p> - -<p>It has been reserved for a lady of our own times, -whose graceful pen has been devoted to the radiant -prints of fair women of olden days, to tell the romantic -story of poor, crushed, bankrupt Ryland and sweet feminine -charity in the person of dove-eyed ‘Miss Angel’ -A scene, alluring as any of the glowing old-world engravings, -is this dainty-coloured picture painted by -Mrs Frankau. Within the oak-panelled studio, through -which the winter twilight is stealing in flickering shadows, -the two ardent souls are wrapt in the communion of art. -And while coy, diaphanous Angelica listens to the fascinating -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> -tongue of the virile, dark-skinned Welshman, -her quick southern fancy whispers that this man is the -knight-errant who shall write her fame amidst the stars. -Ryland has come with a heart of lead; he goes away -with a heart of gold. For one of the most famous of -unions in the annals of painting has been sealed, and in a -little while the prints after Kauffman will have captured -the imagination of the whole world.</p> - -<p>In a house in Queen’s Row, Knightsbridge, the great -engraver commences one of those life-and-death struggles -that genius alone can wage successfully against malicious -fate. Gradually—for he is young and strong and -brave, while the trust of a sweet woman warms his -courage—he emerges from the choking atmosphere of -debt. One by one his creditors are paid, and at last, -free from his bankrupt chains, he is his own master. It -is a fine work, this proud, independent cancelling of -obligations—merely moral claims—a fair tribute to the -lady who has been his tutelar divinity. For it is through -his engravings of Miss Angel’s pictures, to which he -applies the ‘stipple method’ which he learnt in France, -that he wins his way back to fame and fortune. Soon -he is a contributor to the newly-formed Royal Academy -exhibition, sending very properly as his first works a -couple of drawings copied from the canvas of the sylph -Kauffman. Thus pass three sober years, while he -perfects his new art, living with his young wife far from -the delights of town and the old seductive companionship, -first at Knightsbridge, and then moving a couple -of miles further out into rural Hammersmith.</p> - -<p>At last he resolves to tempt the grimy god of trade -once more. Better assets are in his store than a salmon-profile -king or maternal majesty, and he knows that the -marketing bourgeois will not be hindered by squint of -Wilkes from clamouring for his many pictures of Venus, -beaming with the soft, dove-like eyes of pretty Miss -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span> -Angel. So, in the third year after his bankruptcy, he -hangs out his sign once more as an honest print-seller at -No. 159 in the Strand, near Somerset House, by the -corner of Strand Lane, trading as William Wynne -Ryland, engraver to his Majesty. From the first the -enterprise flourishes. Angelica’s plump little Cupids, -drawn in rosy chalk, appeal in their suggestive resemblance -to the heart of the British matron; the dainty -Angelica Venus, with her large haunting eyes, becomes a -pattern of female loveliness; Angelica’s mild and chaste -interpretations of classic romance push aside all previous -readings. More than all, the Kauffman pinks and -yellows, transformed by the deft fingers of the wonderful -Welshman into soft, rainbow-tinged impressions—like -a delicate painting in water-colours—capture the -public fancy. Such engravings never have been seen -before, and never will be seen again. It is not strange -that No. 159 in the Strand becomes one of the most -popular print-shops in London.</p> - -<p>During those nine years, from 1774 until the spring -of 1783, the trade venture of the engraver to his Majesty -continues to enjoy great prosperity. Profits reach the -sum of two thousand a year, while stock and plant swell -to a total of five figures. Few well-fobbed merchants, -no chair-sporting City dame, can resist the temptations -of that seductive window. A pleasant sight for Miss -Angel, that little knot of open-mouthed shop-gazers with -burning pockets, as she passes in hackney coach, a vision -of clinging drapery in her white Irish polonese. While, -if at that moment the happy proprietor steps out, bound -for the counting-house of Sir Charles Asgill and his -friend Mr Nightingale, with whom he is having some -considerable bill of exchange transactions—a glimpse of -those large eyes and crest of feathers at the coach -window will bring down his laced hat in a sweep of -obeisance, as he bows to the knees. Then, after the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -bankers have discounted all he wants, he will hurry off -to Golden Square to show his Miss Angel the last -impressions of some of her pictures, glowing in colours, -or copied in the popular shade of red. Perhaps, one of -these days, as he comes near the studio, a chair may -stop as he passes, from which glides a beautiful lady, -wearing a crown of glorious hair, brushed from her -forehead, who rests her starry eyes upon him for a -moment with a slight motion of her tiny rosebud lips. -And his heart will beat more quickly as he recognises -the woman whose radiant face has brought poor Daniel -Perreau and his brother to a shameful death.</p> - -<div id="i_090" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_090.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption large"><i><span class="smcap">In Memory</span> of <span class="smcap">General Stanwix’s Daughter</span> who was <span class="smcap">Lost</span> in her passage from <span class="smcap">Ireland</span></i>.</p> - -<p class="copy"><i>Sold at N<sup>o</sup> 159 near Somerset House, Strand May 10<sup>th</sup>, 1774.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>For Wynne Ryland’s conscience is becoming a heavy -burden. In spite of his princely income, artistic improvidence -is beginning to weigh him down. Over his -soul the like spirit that swayed Sieur Boucher the incomparable -reigns absolute. Gilded rooms, where the -Eo. tables pave the road to ruin, swallow his guineas -in their rapacious maw. His open hand scatters gold -amidst his friends. Miss Angel, his patron saint, returns -to her native land. Although he remains the kind -husband and devoted father, the shadow of sin creeps -over his roof-tree. A pretty girl, whose fresh young -beauty has stolen his heart from the mother of his -children, becomes a mistress who squanders his earnings -faster than they are reaped. Those bill of exchange -transactions with bankers Asgill and Nightingale -grow more considerable. Friends and accommodators -Ransome and Moreland often receive him in their -counting-house, with his pockets full of crisp notes -drawn upon the Honourable the East India Company -of Leadenhall Street; for this clean, easy paper-credit is -always welcomed as deposit for current coin.</p> - -<p>At last comes the fatal crash, bursting over the town -in a thunderclap, striking sorrow into the hearts of -thousands. On the 3rd of April 1783, when the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -London merchant opens his newspaper—<i>Morning -Chronicle or Daily Advertiser</i>—he reads there that -William Wynne Ryland stands charged before the Right -Hon. the Lord Mayor on suspicion of forging the acceptance -of two bills of exchange for payment of £7114, -with intent to defraud the United East India Company. -Kind John Gwynn throws aside his plans of stately -edifices, walking the streets with streaming eyes, sorrowing -for his friend. Statuesque Domenico Angelo -hurries to condole with poor Mary Ryland, and the sight -of the agonised wife and children robs the good-hearted -Italian swordsman of sleep. But the engraver had left -his home at Knightsbridge on the first of the month, -and although the City Marshal searches for him in the -Old Bailey and in the Minories, nothing is heard of him -for fourteen days.</p> - -<p>On the morning of the 15th of April, a drunken woman -reels into the ‘Brown Bear’ Bow Street, hiccupping an -exciting story that entices the runners even from their -pewter pots. She is the wife of a Stepney cobbler, who -for many days has been harbouring a strange lodger—a -man garbed in an old rusty coat, with green apron and -worsted nightcap, who poses as invalid Mr Jackson -who needs the country air; which same delicate invalid -rests indoors all day, only venturing out after nightfall -to enjoy the health-giving April east winds. But he -is not Mr Jackson at all, babbles tipsy Mrs Cobbler -Freeman, for, when taking one of his shoes to her -husband to mend, she noticed a bit of paper pasted on -the inside, and, tearing it away, she has seen written his -real name—William Wynne Ryland. This is great -news for the ‘Brown Bear’ runners, and Chief-officer -Daly, accompanied by a fellow robin-redbreast, takes -coach with Mrs Cobbler Freeman to Stepney Green.</p> - -<p>From his garret window the guilty engraver beholds -the coming of the bloodhounds. With a brief prayer -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> -for pardon he flies to his razor, and when the constables -burst through the door they find him stretched -upon the boards with a gash across his throat. Still, he -has not cheated cruel fate. A surgeon staunches his -wound, and watchers surround his bed lest he should -seek to meet death once more. In the agony of that -long night, while physical torture conquers even the -deep, black pain of unutterable despair, the wretched -sufferer atones for the sins of a lifetime. Yet on the -morrow they take him rudely from his couch, and while -the foul cobbler goes clamouring to the India House for -his blood-money, Ryland is brought before Sir Sampson -Wright, who sits in the place of blind John Fielding -in the office at Bow Street. There he is given over -to Governor Smith, who carries him to the Bridewell -at Tothill Fields, where he lies for weeks sick almost -unto death.</p> - -<p>Newspaper canards spring up in wonted manner like -mushrooms from a dunghill. Mr Ryland, who cannot -recover—so they say—has confessed his crime to Sheriff -Robert Taylor, naming also a pair of accomplices, and -hints a third. As he cannot recover—so they say—Keeper -Smith has a couple of men to watch him always, -lest he should kill himself. Newspaper reason uses -these odd arguments and more. Among the feasts of -scandal crammed down the public gullet one fact is -readily digested—Ryland is guilty beyond all refutation! -Forged E.I.C. bills have been found in shoals—none -but the great engraver could have been their author—he -attempted self-murder because he was certain of -conviction. All true, possibly; nay, probably, but where -is the proof?</p> - -<p>The trial of the poor sick artist skips a session. In -tender mercy those in power do not shut him up in fetid, -overcrowded Newgate, but allow him to remain under -the watchful care of good Keeper Smith. His kind -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> -jailor does everything in his power to lighten his dreary -lot, making him a trusted friend, allowing him to take -walks with him in the open street, confident that he will -not break his parole. It is not until the eve of the -session that they drive him to the Old Bailey, around -whose bloodstained walls he used to play with his -brothers as a child.</p> - -<p>On Saturday, the 26th of July, he is brought to face his -accusers. Not until the last moment do Crown lawyers -intimate the terms of indictment, for there are several -forged bills laid to his charge, and, conviction appearing -a matter of doubt, the Honourable E.I.C. wishes to be -certain of its prey. So Crown lawyers select a minor -charge—a small bill for £210—which they assert -Ryland has copied and engraved from a true document, -uttering it knowing it to be forged. Both bills have -been lately in the prisoner’s possession—this is made -clear—but which is the counterfeit? A hard nut for -Crown lawyers, since both are like as two peas. Unless -they show that the first which Ryland had received is -the true one, their case falls to the ground, for no man -can copy what he has not seen. A breathless crowd, -whose hearts are all for the man in the dock, watch the -ghastly duel of keen wits, for it is death to one if he is -vanquished. Witnesses come and go, but tierce and -parry keep the defendant unscathed. Witnesses advance -and retire, but Crown lawyers find them weak reeds. -Banker Ammersley swears to his signature on the first -bill, but this proves nothing, as Banker Ammersley’s -autograph is not the seal of Company John. One Holt, -late E.I.C. secretary, whose brain is not so clear as it -was, makes a dismal display in the box, while the -courage of Ryland’s friends mounts high. One Omer, -E.I.C. clerk, tries to spot the true bill, but counsel -Peckham involves him in a maze of legerdemain. All -the gallant little host of well-wishers, who have drunk -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -deeply of newspaper canards, and still more insidious -City gossip, are amazed that Hicks’s Hall should have -deemed such evidence worthy of a true bill—amazed, -moreover, that their friend seems to have a chance of -escape.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the quick shadow of despair flits across -the face of the prisoner. For a moment the brave, -easy self-confidence leaves him naked to his enemies. -Crown counsel Sylvester—who lives in fame as the -judge of maiden Fenning—has played his last card, -calling to the witness-box a calm, unemotional man of -commerce, Mr Waterman of Maidstone, papermaker -for twenty years. Then the reason of the Hicks’s Hall -opinion is made clear. Papermaker Waterman brushes -aside all doubts—he made the sheet upon which one -of the bills is printed, recognising the marks of his -moulds, distinguishable only by expert eye. Since this -Maidstone Waterman is positive that the paper on -which one of the E.I.C. acceptances is stamped did -not reach London till May 1783, it is certain that the -first bill which came into the possession of Ryland -was the true one accepted by the Company. Thus -two counts of the indictment are decided—the last -bill is the spurious one, and it was uttered by the -prisoner.</p> - -<p>Yet what is the whole significance of this carefully -accumulated evidence! Merely that an amazing forgery -has been wrought, and that Ryland alone, who had the -motive and the skill, possessed also the opportunity. -Every heart within the crowded court is filled with -pity for the accused man. Bankers Moreland and -Ammersley, though called by the Crown, have striven -to assist the defence. Prosecutors Sylvester, Rous, -and Graham have shown no vindictive spirit. Even -stripping Judge Buller—he who drew up a specification -of rod for the benefit of wife-beaters—strives to find a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span> -“chasm in the evidence,” endeavouring to prove that the -honourable servants of the E.I.C. have made a mistake. -Finally, when this big-brained lady-whipping Buller -comes to instruct the jury, he specially commends the -prisoner’s defence—read by the clerk of arraigns, as poor -Ryland’s throat is too sore for the effort—for its matter -and good sense.</p> - -<p>Then mercy hides her face, for the youthful judge -lays down calmly the most astounding of eighteenth-century -judicial dogmas. “It stands prisoner,” declares -this Buller, “to show how he came by the bill in order -to prove he did not know it to be forged.” So—musty -old twiners of red tape—they cannot fasten the guilt -upon the man, thus with impotent <i>tu quoque</i> they -demand that he shall prove his innocence. Since they -cannot rip him open in the witness-box, they shift their -own burden upon his shoulders. Since he cannot prove -his innocence, they deem him guilty, forgetting the good -British legal converse of this proposition. Bewildered -by judicial hair-splitting, the jury at last withdraw. -No direct evidence convicts him—circumstances, prejudice -rather, the whispered stories of numerous E.I.C. -bills (forgeries all) that have passed through the -hands of the engraver. If one indictment does not -draw, others will follow—he had the motive, means, -and opportunity, and he flew to his razor when the -runners came to take him. Half an hour of such -reasoning kneads the brains of jury into proper hanging -shape, and they decide that to Tyburn the prisoner -must go.</p> - -<p>Quiet and brave, as he has been through his long -trial, the man in the dock rises to his feet when his -judges return. Courage is stamped on the strong, deep -lines of his face, though the face is white as his soft -ruffles, or as the snowy vest that lies beneath his russet -coat. Coming forward, he listens calmly while they -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span> -declare him guilty, bowing to the Bench. A thrill runs -through the court when the foreman pronounces the -dread word, but, though all hearts are throbbing with -pain, one fond hope rises in every breast—that the power -of a gracious king will rescue this erring genius from a -shameful death. Also, the poor servant himself thinks -first of his royal master; for as he is conducted back -to loathsome Newgate, he tells the friends around him -that, although he has been the victim of persecution, he -can perceive a beam of mercy. Alas, he could not know -his sovereign!</p> - -<p>A week later the dreary session draws to a close, -and Ryland is brought up again, and alone, before the -rest of the convicts, to hear his sentence. Calmly and -bravely he bears this ordeal like the last. Already -two petitions have been presented at Windsor—one the -day after he was condemned, the other on the thirtieth -of the month. It is supposed that he will be kept alive -for a while, since he has begged that his life may be -preserved a little longer, not for his own sake, but that -he may finish some plates for the benefit of his wife and -children. Even the heart of royal George may have -been touched by the piteous request. So the prisoner -spends the gloomy days in toiling at his task, scraping -the copper sheets with his stipple-graver, literally dying -in harness. Nor is it inadequate work, for when his -printer is allowed to bring him the proofs he is able -to murmur with satisfaction, “Mr Haddrill, my task -is finished!” Yet two pictures after all are left -incomplete, one of which Bartolozzi, to whom he sends -to beg the favour, and who owes him as a master of his -craft so much, promises to take in hand, while jovial -William Sharp polishes the other. For King George, -when pressed once more to spare the poor artist because -of his great genius, replies sternly—“No; a man with -such ample means of providing for his wants could not -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span> -reasonably plead necessity as an excuse for his crime.” -Material logic, worthy of the man!</p> - -<p>On Friday, the 29th of August, dawns the fatal morning. -Before nine o’clock the outer Press Yard is overflowing -with sight-seers; but because of Governor Akerman’s -humane order, none are allowed within the smaller court -to disturb the last moments of the unhappy sufferers. -Presently the iron-studded door of the lodge is flung -open, and Sheriff Taylor, bearing his wand of office, -enters the prison to demand the bodies of his victims. -Then through the expectant crowd the turnkeys slowly -force a path, and down this narrow lane the malefactors -walk one by one with hideous clank of fetters. On his -knees beside a block of stone a creature with punch and -hammer deftly rids them of their chains. Five times -the strident blows echo through the vaulted walls, while -as many unhappy wretches pass into the hands of the -hangman’s lacqueys, busy with their bonds and cords. -Last of all comes a slim, graceful figure, clad in a suit -of mourning with white ruffles and silver shoe-buckles, -unencumbered by chains, walking as unconcernedly as -though he were a spectator of the scene. A shudder -runs through the throng as all eyes rest upon the gifted -artist, who, as he passes on, quietly salutes those friends -whom he chances to recognise. With a respectful bow -the Sheriff advances and leads the prisoner to the -lodge, away from the crowded quadrangle.</p> - -<p>“Don’t tie Mr Ryland too tight,” he commands the -attendants as they fasten the cords.</p> - -<p>“Never mind, sir,” is the quiet answer; “they give -me no uneasiness.”</p> - -<p>All the time he chats calmly to those around, bearing -himself in this, as through all other scenes to the end, -as a brave heart and a gentleman. Then the clatter of -arms is heard outside, for the City Marshal is bringing up -his troop. A moment later the door is thrown back, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span> -and from the steps a stentorian voice bellows aloud, “Mr -Ryland’s coach.” With brisk, easy steps he passes out -into the street, closely followed by the attendant Ordinary. -Suddenly he springs forward, and in an instant a tiny -girl has thrown her little hands around his pinioned -arms, while he kisses her passionately—his own daughter, -the child of sin. Tenderly they induce him to hasten -the agonising farewell, but his steel-clad soul is steadfast -and unshaken. Tearing himself away, he hurries on with -a firm tread.</p> - -<p>Then the procession moves forward. A strong -company of Sheriff’s men and City Marshal’s constables -leads the way, parting the dense surging mob for the -progress of the official chariots and the black mourning-coach -that follows next in line. Another carriage, in -which sits one Lloyd, an ex-housebreaker turned psalm-singing -penitent, comes after that of Ryland, and then -the pair of loathsome carts with four more miserable -victims. No cant or cowardice marks the bearing of -the poor artist. Unlike the conventional hypocrite of -such a time, his lips do not move in response to the -exhortations of white-banded Ordinary Villette. No -prayer-book rests in his fingers. Having made his -peace with God, he does not deign to humour the prejudices -of man. Unjustly, they are sending him to a -cruel death. Why should he appear to worship in the -fashion they have chosen? Thus, while the procession -moves onward, his calm, inscrutable face gazes upon -the scene that passes before his eyes.</p> - -<p>An amazing spectacle, this eighteenth-century march -to Tyburn, revealing as completely as the roofless city of -romance the human animal taken unawares. No braver -picture of dauntless courage ever has been displayed in -battlefield than the serene victim, tied and bound, -who is drawn along slowly to his shameful death. -Though the deep toll of St Sepulchre’s passing bell -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> -may beat in cruel blows against his heart, as he moves -past the old church at whose font his brothers and sisters -were given their Christian names, there is no tremor -visible to the thousands who gloat upon his form. Down -the slopes of Snow Hill runs the quick, eager whisper, -for the eyes of all seek but one man, “Which is Mr -Ryland?” And the careless murmur swells into a louder -key, “There he is in the coach—that is he—that is -Ryland”—the heartless babble of a multitude of savages. -Thicker and thicker teems the concourse, as the procession -crawls over the bridge and up Holbourn Hill, -swollen like a black, turgid river by streams that flow -from haunts of filth and foulness—the sweepings of -the slums. Thieves, cut-throats, hoarse drunkards, and -shrill strumpets join in the delirious march with the loud, -mad tread of a thousand clattering feet.</p> - -<p>Thus they move onward. Within the sable coach -the smug Ordinary is mumbling scraps of Holy Writ -pertaining to the time and place, the valley of the -shadow of death. In response, a hundred ribald oaths -and loathsome jests are pealing all around. Within the -sable coach the poor ecstatic housebreaker is piping a -quavering hymn, his joints shaking in palsy, his eyes, -which gleam in horrible whiteness, raised to the skies. -All around, the hands of a hundred thieves are busy at -work as they tramp along in this march to the grave. -Beyond Chancery Lane the wide thoroughfare seems to -pass into a new world. Although the street echoes still -to the tread of ten thousand squalid footsteps, high up on -either side, at the windows or in the narrow balconies, -wealth and beauty take their part in the mighty spectacle. -Sweet, pale faces look down, while soft, heaving bosoms -press the casements. Beings who might soar amidst the -stars are sunk in the mire—all compelled by the haunting, -irresistible tramp rolling onward in the march of death.</p> - -<p>Yet the footsteps never pause. Forward still, winding -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> -through St Giles, the highroad to Tyburn opens to the -view. There is no halt now for the Lazar-house bowl, -nor would those fettered men in the carts wish to quaff -it. Huddled together in the first, the three are babbling -supplications; prone and fainting, a half-dying creature -is stretched within the last. In front, the hysterical -housebreaker is swaying like a drunkard on the seat of -his coach, still quavering forth his piteous hymn. Only -the artist, whose carriage leads the way to the shambles, -gazing calmly around with grave, stony face, will have no -truck with the cant of humanity. For his thoughts are -far distant, fleeing from the mighty roll of footsteps till -they soften to his ears like the murmur of muffled drums. -All around him are visions of bygone days. Yon -narrow road that is pouring forth its human torrent -leads to Soho, where, with the gentle Gwynn, he used -to visit the gilded palace of Therese Cornelys, or that -other Carlisle House, the fencing-school of splendid -Angelo. Down that long street is Golden Square, but -there is no pretty Miss Angel to weep for him. And -far away, beyond the distant horizon, lies the palace of -his king, but before it there is reared the gaunt, frightful -spectre of the triple tree.</p> - -<p>Then the sound of voices swells louder while the -march is stayed. Through the windows of his coach he -can see the three bare posts close at hand, so that he -can almost touch them. Slowly the creaking carts roll -forward, halting beneath the wooden bars, and a sweeping -circle of soldiers spreads itself around. Perched upon -the park wall is a long mass of expectant faces. Here -and there rise huge stands, tier upon tier, choked to the -full with swaying humanity. As far as the eye can reach -is a dense, surging throng, crushing forward, ever crushing, -as though eager to press the victims to their doom.</p> - -<p>Presently the black clouds that have been slowly -unfurling their shadows across the August sky burst in a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> -peal of thunder, and the tempest rushes through the air. -Amidst the flashes of lightning, a fierce rainstorm hurls -itself to earth. For a moment the bloody work must -pause, since it is impossible to stand against the blinding -torrents. Half an hour passes. Then the deluge ceases -as suddenly as it arose. Hastily the Sheriff gives his -orders, and soon expert hands have arranged the ropes -around the necks of the three rain-soaked wretches in -the cart. Swiftly the second tumbril, in which the -sick man is lying prostrate, backs to the coach where sits -the penitent housebreaker, and he is summoned to the -gallows. In a few moments the halters are placed upon -their heads, while the contrite thief entreats the multitude -to take warning from his fate. At last, when all -is ready, they call upon Mr Ryland. Springing lightly -down the steps, he mounts the cart, and stands beside -his two fellow-sufferers—a brave, graceful gentleman in -black, quiet and unflinching. Strange contrast indeed -to the swooning creature on the floor, or to the noisy -burglar, who shrieks to heaven, wringing his hands. -Ordinary Villette comes forward, pressing his holy attentions -upon the unhappy artist, who listens to him calmly -and respectfully, while close at hand his wretched companions -pray long and loud. Suddenly there is a shrill, -wailing sound, rising and falling in equal cadence with -the see-saw rhythm of a hymn, “The Sinner’s Lamentation,” -which four terror-stricken creatures, with their -heads thrown back, bellow loudly to the skies. And -all this time, firm, motionless, inscrutable, bearing even -the greatest ignominy—the contact of these foul ones—without -a tremor, Wynne Ryland stands silent, waiting -for the last cruel moment. Swiftly it comes. His face -is covered, the hangman lashes his horse, the foothold -sweeps from beneath, and he passes into oblivion. To -the other five who sway in the air at his elbow (save -one) death also is merciful. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span></p> - -<p>A holiday of butchery, cries Mercy; yea, and more, -a holiday in which butchery alone has a part, giving -naught that chance or strength or valour might lend its -victim; butchery a thousand times more squalid than -that of the noble Roman. Ah, but it is the pious -retribution of majestic laws, declares the spirit of those -times; the just conclusion of the social contract; -butchery, alas! for these poor victims can have no -resemblance to the gladiators of the arena. Yes, -indeed, retorts Mercy; it is the vengeance of the -sacred majesty of commerce, whose garments have been -soiled by the hands of these malefactors, which cannot -be appeased by the code of savages, an eye for an eye, -a life for a life. Yet ’tis stern for the sake of utility, -pleads the spirit; harsh for the public good, so that -the evil-doer may be terrified to the advantage of all -innocence, and to the encouragement of a Christian life. -But what of that handsome youth, is the reply, whose -face is seared by vice, and whose hand is in the fob of -your sleek, well-fed City merchant: is this one dismayed -by these six dangling victims on the tree? No, -answers the spirit; but we must not adopt a universal -conclusion from a particular case, for how can we judge -how many of the tempted have been saved from crime -by the terrible example of the fatal rope? True in -logic, false in truth, Mercy well may thunder—a valid -deduction from <i>conditional</i> premiss, but the terms of -jurisprudence should not be qualified by an ‘if’ Thus, -surely, unless we admit the old Hebrew ‘eye for an -eye’ dogma, must we view all legal punishments that -deprive a fellow-creature of his life. Alas, that we are -controlled by the logic of other times!</p> - -<p>The same coach that conveyed William Wynne -Ryland along the road to Tyburn brought back his -dead body to his friends. Five days later—on -Thursday, the 3rd of September—they took him to the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span> -tiny churchyard of Feltham, beyond Hounslow, where -his father and mother had been laid to rest. For a long -time after his death Mrs Ryland continued to keep a -print-shop at the corner of Berners Street, where her -husband’s engravings commanded a large sale. Subsequently -she transferred her business to New Bond -Street. From contemporary newspapers we learn that -the Ryland plates were much sought after in Paris -when his untimely fate became known. Nine years -later, on the 20th of October 1792, the unhappy wife -went to join her husband in the little grass-plot of the -village by the Thames.</p> - -<p>With the exception of that mighty scholar Eugene -Aram, the eighteenth century never suffered deeper -loss by the hangman’s rope than in the death of brave -and graceful Wynne Ryland. Just as the marvellous -usher is the greatest of schoolmen, so is the Strand -engraver incomparably the greatest artist that ended -his days upon the scaffold. With him the dissolute -and passionate Theodore Gardelle can no more be -contrasted than poet Gahagan with the former. Yet, -unlike the sombre Aram, poor Ryland did not bear the -stain of blood upon his hands. Nor was the evidence -of his guilt less open to doubt. Because he failed to -prove his innocence they sent him to his death. Still, -although there was no lack of tears and lamentation, -his cruel fate did not excite the same interest nor cause -the universal consternation that was aroused in similar -cases. Neither Horace Walpole, Mrs Delany, nor -George Selwyn speak his name, and gossip Tom -Smith merely mentions him incidentally in a list of -engravers. A reason is not far to seek. Not being a -man of fashion, how was it possible that an epoch which -had beheld so many stupendous melodramas should be -greatly shocked by his atonement? Preacher Dodd, -the pet of devout ladies; the unfortunate brothers -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> -over whom the charms of Margaret Rudd cast the -halo of romance; soldier-parson Hackman, with his -love and madness; poisonous Captain Donellan of -Lawford Hall—all these magnificent criminals had lately -made the march to Tyburn, or elsewhere. Little wonder -that society, <i>ennuyé</i> by the sight of the gallows, had lost -its zest for convict-worship.</p> - -<p>To say that William Wynne Ryland might have been -the greatest engraver that the world has seen would -be to state an equivocal proposition, since modern -print-science, to which the splendid art has given birth, -scarce realises comparative methods, and has no complete -list of precise terms. Yet the assertion that none -have ever excelled him as a creator of the coloured -stipple is a mere platitude. Also, it would be difficult -to name any other artist who has produced finer -work in all the three great branches of engraving—line, -dot, and mezzotint. Still, like every rolling stone, he -suggests rather than demonstrates the possession of -superlative powers. Although few surpass him as a -draughtsman, colourist, and craftsman, he shares the -fate of all who pursue unworthy models. While the -fair Kauffman sinks into insignificance in contrast to -Sir Joshua, the man who translated her pictures into -their popular form is worthy to take his place beside -all the masters who fashioned engravings after Reynolds. -Through the whole of his life it is the same. In careless -vigour he speeds along the difficult paths that lead to -the golden mountain-tops, but never reaches the summit. -To Wale or to Oudry he gives more than to François -Boucher. Smiling Ramsay and courtly Bute snatch -him from his allegiance to the mighty Italians. Always -opportunist, the pleasures of the world entangle him -amidst a stifling undergrowth, where his wings may not -expand to bear him aloft, free and unconfined.</p> - -<p>Nor are his copies of Angelica the best that she -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span> -can offer. In humble servitude he seems to take all -that is given to him. The slave of popular taste, unlike -Bartolozzi he never casts off his shackles. A simpering -Venus, an over-fed Cupid, a Grecian warrior with a -feminine frame—these are the subjects upon which he -wastes his powers. Even when opportunity comes to -draw a human portrait in the person of a noble woman, -he has to struggle against the mockery of a burlesque -dress—furled Turkish trousers, or a Grecian turban. -Yet how different is the obvious ideal! Since he could -transform the work of ‘Miss Angel’ with such wondrous -art, conjecture may dream of entrancing pictures after -Gainsborough, in miniature, but in perfect semblance, -glowing with all the gorgeous tints of the great master.</p> - -<p>An illustrious feather-pate, gazing with idolatry upon -his own modern photograph, has screamed, “Camera -beats the brush! Look upon that picture, and then -presume to tell me that Rembrandt or Velasquez has -fashioned its equal.” Obviously, for those painters never -had such a model as illustrious feather-pate. Yet -feather-pate but babbles the gibberish of his times. -All who inveigh against soulless lithograph or poll-parrot -photography, saying that monarchs of the brush -are with us still whose works are worthy of the -engraver’s steel, cry as prophets of the wilderness. -“Camera beats the print,” shrieks Cosmos; “magna -est vilitas, et prævalebit.” Thus poor Cinderella, who -never went to the ball with her more gorgeous sisters, -is driven even from her home in the kitchen.</p> - -<p>Still, could some god transport Wynne Ryland from -the sunny plains, he would find work for his hand as -alluring as the canvas of Angelica Kauffman. In -the gossamer creations of such as Alma Tadema and -Blair Leighton, the soft-coloured print might begin a -new life. Is it too late to hope that ere he passed over -the dark river he left his mantle upon the shore? -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span></p> - -<h3 id="BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_THE_RYLAND_CASE">BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE RYLAND CASE</h3> - -<h4>I. <span class="smcap">Contemporary Authorities</span></h4> - -<p>1. <i>Authentic Memoires of William Wynne Ryland.</i> Printed for J. Ryall, No. 17 -Lombard Street, 1784. Brit. Mus.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>As these <i>Authentic Memoires</i> do not present a very lucid account, it is -necessary to place the principal events of Wynne Ryland’s career in chronological -order:—</p> - -<p>Born November 2, 1733, in St John’s Street, Clerkenwell; the third son and -fifth child of Edward and Mary Ryland.</p> - -<p>Baptized December 2, at St Martin’s Church, Ludgate, where his name -appears in the register as William Wynn.</p> - -<p>Studied at St Martin’s Lane Academy—probably during the latter half of -the forties.</p> - -<p>If, as is generally stated, he served an apprenticeship of five years with -Ravenet, he must have been bound to that engraver before 1750.</p> - -<p>The second volume of <i>Les Fables choisies de la Fontaine</i>, with illustrations -after Oudry, shows that he was in Paris in 1755. Having studied for two years -under Le Bas, it would seem that he went to Boucher about 1757. According -to most accounts he remained abroad for five years.</p> - -<p>Probably he was in England in 1761, for several of his red-chalk engravings -after the old master were finished during the next year.</p> - -<p>In April 1762 he published at Lichfield Street, Soho, an engraving of -George III., after Ramsay.</p> - -<p>In February 1763 his engraving of Lord Bute, after Ramsay, was finished.</p> - -<p>From 1763-67 he was engaged upon the portrait of George III. in his -Coronation Robes, after Ramsay.</p> - -<p>In the spring of 1765 he visited Paris on a commission for the King -(<i>v.</i> Journal of J. G. Wille).</p> - -<p>In 1767 he was living in Stafford Row, Pimlico.</p> - -<p>From 1767-69 he was engaged upon the portrait of the Queen, after Cotes.</p> - -<p>In 1767 or 1768 he entered into partnership with his late pupil, Henry -Bryer, at 27 Cornhill. This firm became bankrupt in December 1771.</p> - -<p>In 1772 he was living at Queen’s Row, Knightsbridge, and in 1773 near the -Hammersmith turnpike.</p> - -<p>In 1774 he opened his print-shop, No. 159 in the Strand.</p> - -<p>On November 4, 1782, he deposited the forged bill on the East India -Company with Messrs Ransome, Moreland & Ammersley, bankers.</p> - -<p>On the 1st of April 1783 he fled from his home at Knightsbridge, and the -advertisement offering £300 for his arrest was published in the newspapers on -April 3.</p></blockquote> - -<p>2. <i>A Catalogue of Mr Ryland’s Exhibition</i> at Mr Pollard’s in Piccadilly. Brit. -Mus.</p> - -<p>3. <i>Exhibition Catalogue of Incorporated Society of Artists</i>, 1761-69. “In their -Great Room in Spring Gardens, Charing Cross.” Brit. Mus.</p> - -<p>The following were Ryland’s exhibits:—</p> - -<table> -<tr> -<td>1761.</td> -<td>No. 215.</td> -<td>A Print of “Jupiter and Leda,” after Boucher.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>1767.</td> -<td>No. 217.</td> -<td>A Print of his Majesty in his Coronation Robes after Ramsay.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>1769.</td> -<td>No. 301.</td> -<td>Two Drawings.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td></td> -<td>No. 302.</td> -<td>One Drawing.</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<p>4. <i>Catalogue of the Royal Academy.</i> 1772-1775. Brit. Mus. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span> -The exhibits of Ryland, with their dates, are as follows:—</p> - -<table> -<tr> -<td>1772.</td> -<td>No. 227.</td> -<td>Vortigern falling in love with Rowena—after A. Kauffman.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td></td> -<td>No. 228.</td> -<td>The interview between Edgar and Elfrida after her marriage with Athelwald—after A. Kauffman.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td></td> -<td>No. 229.</td> -<td>A Portrait of a child drawing.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>1773.</td> -<td>No. 259.</td> -<td>Domestic Employment—a drawing.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>1774.</td> -<td>No. 255.</td> -<td>A Frame with sundry Portraits.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td></td> -<td>No. 256.</td> -<td><span class="i4">”</span> <span class="i4">”</span> <span class="i4">”</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>1775.</td> -<td>No. 268.</td> -<td>Juno borrowing the Cestus from Venus. A Drawing in red chalk, after A. Kauffman.</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<p>5. <i>Dodd’s Memoires of English Engravers</i>, xi. pp. 104-110. Add. MSS. -33404. Brit. Mus.</p> - -<p>6. <i>Joseph Strutt’s Biog. Dic. of Engravers</i> (1785-6), ii. 285. Brit. Mus.</p> - -<p>7. <i>A Collection of Prints in Imitation of Drawings.</i> 2 vols. 1778. Edited by -Charles Rogers. Brit. Mus.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Ryland contributed fifty-seven plates. These two volumes should be -included in any collection of Ryland’s works.</p></blockquote> - -<p>8. <i>Nichol’s Literary Anecdotes</i> (1813). Vol. iii. 256, vol. v. 668, 681, 686.</p> - -<p>9. <i>Reminiscences of Henry Angelo.</i> 2 vols. London, 1828-30. Vol. i. pp. 473-83. -New Edition by Joseph Grego and H. Lavers Smith. Kegan Paul. 1904. -Vol. i. pp. 366, 370-75.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Ryland was a frequent visitor at the fencing and riding school, which the -elder Angelo had established at Carlisle House, Carlisle Street, and which, oddly -enough, was the second building of that name in Soho Square.</p></blockquote> - -<p>10. <i>Mémoires et Journal de J. G. Wille.</i> 2 vols. Jules Renouard. Paris, 1857. -Vol. i. pp. 287, 288.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Wille met Ryland in Paris on April 17, April 18, and May 9, 1765. He -tells us that he had been acquainted with him when the English engraver was -in France seven or eight years previously (<i>i.e.</i> in 1757-1758), which dates fit in -with other known incidents of Ryland’s life.</p></blockquote> - -<h4>II. <span class="smcap">Contemporary Newspapers and Magazines</span></h4> - -<table class="toc"> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">1.</td> - <td colspan="2"><i>The Gentleman’s Magazine</i> (1771), p. 572; (1778), p. 594; (1783), part i. -pp. 359, 443; part ii. pp. 626, 710, 714; (1808), part i. p. 87.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">2.</td> - <td colspan="2"><i>The European Magazine</i> (1783), part ii. pp. 158, 172-173.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">3.</td> - <td><i>The Morning Post</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">April-August 1783.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">4.</td> - <td><i>The Morning Chronicle</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">5.</td> - <td><i>The Morning Herald</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">6.</td> - <td><i>The London Chronicle</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">7.</td> - <td><i>The Public Advertiser</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">8.</td> - <td><i>The Daily Advertiser</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">9.</td> - <td><i>The General Advertiser</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">10.</td> - <td><i>The Whitehall Evening Post</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">11.</td> - <td><i>The London Recorder</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">12.</td> - <td><i>Ayre’s Sunday London Gazette</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">13.</td> - <td><i>The Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">14.</td> - <td><i>Lloyds Evening Post</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The most complete account of the trial will be found in the <i>Morning Post</i>, -Monday, July 28, 1783. Those who are interested in the much-debated -question whether the site of the ‘Tyburn Tree’ was in Connaught Square, -Bryanston Street, or Upper Seymour Street, would do well to remember that -on August 29, 1783 (so the papers tell us), the gallows were placed fifty yards -nearer the park wall than usual. Naturally, its position was changed from time -to time.</p></blockquote> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span></p> - -<h4><span class="smcap">Notes</span></h4> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note I.</span>—<i>Dic. Nat. Biog.</i> The date of Ryland’s birth is given as July 1732! -Nor was he the eldest, but the <i>third</i> son of his father.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note II.</span>—<i>Eighteenth Century Colour Prints.</i> Mrs Julia Frankau. Macmillan -(1900).</p> - -<p>Mrs Frankau’s explanation of the flight of Ryland is scarcely plausible. It is not -credible that a man who is engaged in a frantic search for a lost mistress would -remain in close hiding, posing as an invalid, only venturing abroad after dark. Nor -is it a tenable assumption that he attempted to commit suicide in a fit of despair -because he fancied that he was being arrested for debt, and thus might lose all chance -of finding his <i>chère amie</i>. One of the strongest pleas in his defence was that his -fortune was ‘princely’ and he protested that he fled because he could not find -the man from whom he had received the fatal bill. It is a strange coincidence that -the discovery of the fraud upon the East India Company should have taken place -on the eve of his disappearance. Moreover, he was not arrested for the forgery that -secured his conviction. The warrant charged him with counterfeiting two other bills -of exchange to the value of £7114 (as reference to the advertisement columns of the -daily papers of April 3 will show), and it was not until this publicity that Mr -Moreland, the banker, examined the bill for £210, which Ryland had deposited with -his house. Thus the accusation of one crime led to the discovery of another! And -it is still more strange that the artist should have cashed an East India Company bill -of the value of £210 on September 19, 1782, while on November 4 he should have -handed to his banker another bill—an exact copy of the first—bearing a similar date, -denomination, and acceptances. Although these two identical bills came into -Ryland’s possession within the space of a few weeks, he did not seek an explanation -of the remarkable coincidence. A careful survey of all the facts must convince -everyone of the guilt of the unfortunate engraver, but it is a pleasure to be able to -agree with Mrs Frankau—except in some minor details—in her contention that the -evidence was not conclusive. Ryland was convicted because he failed to show that -he had received the forged bill from another person, and to cast thus the burden -of proof from the prosecution to the defence is quite foreign to the methods of a -modern tribunal.</p> - -<p>Since the Catholic has become the spoilt child of contemporary literature, it is not -surprising to find Wynne Ryland hailed as the victim of Protestant persecution. Yet -there appears to be no evidence to support this assumption. There is not a line in -the newspapers of the day to indicate that any anti-Romanist feeling was aroused, -and had such been the case, the <i>Public Advertiser</i>, at all events, whose animosity -towards ‘Popery’ is sufficiently evident, would have trumpeted loudly. It is -significant that the mob never behaved with greater propriety—very unusual conduct -in the howling Tyburn crowd—than on August 29, 1783. How different would it -have been if the word had been whispered that a Papist was going to the gallows! -Strutt and Angelo, who write so sympathetically of their friend, have nothing to say -on this subject, and, indeed, accept his guilt as proved. Although the former, who -wrote in 1785, might have reason for reticence, yet the latter, whose book was -published a year before the Emancipation Act, could have no reason to suppress -such evidence. Indeed, we have only the doubtful authority of the <i>Authentic -Memoires</i> for the statement that Ryland was a ‘supposed’ Catholic in his early -youth. With this very ambiguous suggestion we must reconcile the strange fact that -he was buried in a graveyard of the Established Church, and that the last rites were -performed by an Anglican clergyman. There are one or two slips of the pen in Mrs -Frankau’s interesting memoir. As the catalogue of the Royal Academy shows that -Ryland contributed his first drawing in 1772—four years after the institution was -established—he was not “one of the earliest exhibitors.” From the same catalogue -it appears that the print-shop in the Strand was opened in 1774. The date of the -publication of the <i>Authentic Memoires</i>, given as 1794, is, of course, a clerical error. -Owing to the footnote attached to Ryland’s letter to Francis Donaldson of Liverpool, -printed in the <i>Morning Post</i>, September 2, 1783, the document must be regarded -with suspicion. No trivial disagreement with the conclusions of Mrs Frankau can -diminish the interest of her delightful account of the great engraver, which must -remain the most valuable of recent monographs.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note III.</span>—There are references to W. W. Ryland in the innumerable dictionaries -of painters and engravers, French, German, and English, such as Basan, Le -Blanc, Portalis and Beraldi, Andreas Andrescen, Redgrave, Bryan, etc. One of -the best of modern notices will be found in the <i>Print Collectors’ Handbook</i>, by -Alfred Whitman. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span></p> - -<h3 id="A_LIST_OF_WILLIAM_WYNNE_RYLANDS_ENGRAVINGS">A LIST OF WILLIAM WYNNE RYLAND’S ENGRAVINGS.<br /> - -<span class="medium">(By <span class="smcap">Ruth Bleackley.</span>)</span></h3> - -<table> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">1.</td> - <td>Les Grâces au Bain,</td> - <td class="tdc">after Boucher.</td> - <td>}</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">2.</td> - <td>La Belle Dormeuse,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td>}</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">3.</td> - <td>Le Repose Champêtre,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td>}</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">4.</td> - <td>Vue d’un pont,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td>}</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">5.</td> - <td>Berger passant une rivière,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td><span class="nowrap">} 1757-60</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">6.</td> - <td>La petite Repose,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td>}</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">7.</td> - <td>La Bonne Mère,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td>}</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">8.</td> - <td>La Marchande d’Oiseaux,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td>}</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"> 9.</td> - <td>I. and II. Vue de Fronville,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td>}</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">10.</td> - <td>Jupiter and Leda,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td>}</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">11.</td> - <td colspan="3">George III., King of Great Britain. Published April 1762.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">12.</td> - <td colspan="3">John Stuart, 3rd Earl of Bute—after Allan Ramsay. Published February 1763.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">13.</td> - <td colspan="3">George III. in State Robes—after Allan Ramsay. Published 1767.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">14.</td> - <td colspan="3">George III. (bust).</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">15.</td> - <td colspan="3">Queen Charlotte with infant (Princess Royal)—after Cotes. Published 1769.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">16.</td> - <td colspan="3">Diogenes—after Salvator Rosa. Published 1771.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">17.</td> - <td colspan="3">Antiochus and Stratonice—after P. da Cortona. Published 1772.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">18.</td> - <td colspan="3">General Stanwix’s Daughter—after Angelica Kauffman (called also “The Pensive Muse”). Published in colours 1774.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">19.</td> - <td colspan="3">Hope—after A. Kauffman—(a portrait of herself). Published in colours, February 7, 1775.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">20.</td> - <td colspan="3">A Lady in a Turkish Dress—after A. Kauffman. Oval in colours. Published May 1, 1775.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">21.</td> - <td colspan="3">A Lady in a Greek Dress—(the Duchess of Richmond)—after A. Kauffman. Published November 20, 1775.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">22.</td> - <td colspan="3">Narcissus. Drawn and engraved by Ryland. Published January 12, 1775.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">23.</td> - <td colspan="3">Domestick Employment. Drawn and engraved by Ryland, in colours. Published September 13, 1775.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">24.</td> - <td colspan="3">Faith—after A. Kauffman. Published 1776.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">25.</td> - <td colspan="3">Dormio Innocuus—after A. Kauffman. Circle in colours. Published May 21, 1776.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">26.</td> - <td colspan="3">Olim Truncus—after A. Kauffman. Circle in colours and red. Published, first state, April 3; second state, May 1, 1776.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">27.</td> - <td colspan="3">Juno cestum a Venere Postulat—after A. Kauffman. Circle in colours and red. Published January 1, 1777.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">28.</td> - <td colspan="3">Achilles lamenting the Death of his friend Patroclus—after A. Kauffman. Published December 4, 1777, in colours and red.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">29.</td> - <td colspan="3">Patience—after A. Kauffman. Published May 27, 1777.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">30.</td> - <td colspan="3">Perseverance—after A. Kauffman. Published June 24, 1777.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">31.</td> - <td colspan="3">Cupid Bound, with Nymphs breaking his Bow—after A. Kauffman. Published March 17, 1777.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">32.</td> - <td colspan="3">Telemachus returns to Penelope—after A. Kauffman, in colours. Published December 4, 1777.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">33.</td> - <td colspan="3">Venus in her Triumphal Chariot—after A. Kauffman, in colours and red. Published September 7, 1778.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">34.</td> - <td colspan="3">Charles Rogers—mezzotint after Sir Joshua Reynolds. Published 1778.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">35.</td> - <td colspan="3">Cleopatra decorating the Tomb of Mark Antony—after A. Kauffman. Published March 25, 1778, in colours.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">36.</td> - <td colspan="3">Telemachus at the Court of Sparta—after A. Kauffman, in colours. Published 1778.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">37.</td> - <td colspan="3">The Judgment of Paris—after A. Kauffman, in colours and red. Published January 17, 1778.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">38.</td> - <td colspan="3">Maria Moulins—after A. Kauffman. Published 1779, in colours and red.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">39.</td> - <td colspan="3">Eloisa—after A. Kauffman. Oval in colours and red. Published 1779.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">40.</td> - <td colspan="3">Britannia directing Painting, Sculpture and Architecture to address themselves to Royal Munificence, etc.—after Cipriani, in colours and red. Published August 18, 1779.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">41.</td> - <td colspan="3">Marianne. Drawn and engraved by Ryland. In colours and red. Published January 3, 1780. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">42.</td> - <td colspan="3">Eleanor sucking the poison from the wound of King Edward—after A. Kauffman. Published March 1, 1780, in colours.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">43.</td> - <td colspan="3">Lady Elizabeth Grey imploring pardon for her husband—after A. Kauffman. Published 1780, in colours and red.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">44.</td> - <td colspan="3">The Flight of Paris and Helen—after A. Kauffman. Published 1781.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">45.</td> - <td colspan="3">Venus presenting Helen to Paris—after A. Kauffman. Published 1781.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">46.</td> - <td colspan="3">Cymon and Iphigenia—after A. Kauffman. Circle in colours. Published January 15, 1782.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">47.</td> - <td colspan="3">Morning Amusement—after A. Kauffman. Published March 1, 1784.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">48.</td> - <td colspan="3">King John signing the Magna Charta—after Mortimer. Published 1785. This plate was finished after Ryland’s death by Bartolozzi and published by the widow.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">49.</td> - <td colspan="3">Interview between Edgar and Elfrida—after A. Kauffman. Published 1786. According to Bryan’s <i>Dictionary</i> this plate was finished by W. Sharp and published by the widow.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">50.</td> - <td colspan="3">Donald MacLeod, aged 102—after W. R. Bigg. Published 1790.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="4"><br />The following I am unable to date:—<br /></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">51.</td> - <td colspan="3">John, Duke of Lauderdale.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">52.</td> - <td colspan="3">Henry, 7th Baron Digby.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">53.</td> - <td colspan="3">Churchill, Duke of Marlborough.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">54.</td> - <td colspan="3">Charity—after Van Dyck.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">55.</td> - <td colspan="3">The Muse Erato—after Joseph Zucchi.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">56.</td> - <td colspan="3">Les Muses (Urania, Clio, Thalia, and Erato)—after Cipriani.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">57.</td> - <td colspan="3">Sir John Falstaff raising Recruits—after F. Hayman.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">58.</td> - <td colspan="3">Interior of a Dutch Cabaret with peasants dancing—after R. Brackenberg.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">59.</td> - <td colspan="3">Penelope awakened by Euryclea—after A. Kauffman.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">60.</td> - <td colspan="3">Religion—after A. Kauffman.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">61.</td> - <td colspan="3">Ludit Amabiliter—after A. Kauffman. Circle in colours.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">62.</td> - <td colspan="3">Penelope hanging up the Bow of Ulysses—after A. Kauffman.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">63.</td> - <td colspan="3">Achilles discovered by Ulysses in the disguise of a Virgin—after A. Kauffman.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">64.</td> - <td colspan="3">Andromache weeping over the ashes of Hector—after A. Kauffman.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">65.</td> - <td colspan="3">Samma at Benoni’s Grave—after A. Kauffman.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><i>Note.</i>—The <i>Morning Herald</i>, May 5, and the <i>Morning Post</i>, August 28, 1783, -state that Ryland left unfinished a plate of the Battle of Agincourt, after Mortimer.</p> - -<div id="i_110" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_110.jpg" alt="" /> -<table class="w100"> - <tr class="copy"> - <td class="tdl"><i>Sir Joshua Reynolds Pinx.</i></td> - <td class="tdc"><i>John Boydell excudit, 1780.</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><i>F. Bartolozzi Sculpsit.</i></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p class="caption large"><span class="smcap">Angelica Kauffman</span>,</p> - -<p class="caption medium script"><i>Ex. Academia Regali Artium Londini</i></p> - -<p class="copy">Published Sept<sup>r</sup>. 3; 1780 by John Boydell, London.</p> -</div> - -<h3 id="BOOK_ILLUSTRATIONS">BOOK ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> - -<p>1. The Book of Common Prayer. Published by Edward Ryland, May 1, 1755. -Nine plates by Ryland—after S. Wale.</p> - -<p>2. The Book of Common Prayer in Welsh (1770), with the same plates as in -former edition.</p> - -<p>3. The Complete Angler, by Isaac Walton, edited by Sir John Hawkins. With -fourteen plates, dated 1759, by Ryland—after S. Wale. First edition 1760.</p> - -<p>4. “Les Fables choisies de la Fontaine.” Illustrated by J. B. Oudry (1755-59). -Seven plates by Ryland in vols. ii., iii., and iv.</p> - -<p>5. L’Ecole Des Armes. Par M. Angelo. A Londres: chez R. & J. Dodsley, -Pall Mall. February 1763. Second edition 1765. With forty-seven plates. A few -copies in colours. Ryland engraved fourteen of these plates. Hall, Grignion, -Elliot, and Chamber did the rest—all after drawings by John Gwynn. Thus Henry -Angelo’s account of this work is inaccurate.</p> - -<p>6. A Collection of Prints in Imitation of Drawings. Edited by Charles Rogers. -Published London 1778. Contains fifty-seven plates by Ryland in addition to the -mezzotint portrait of Rogers.</p> - -<p>7. The School of Fencing, by D. Angelo, edited by Henry Angelo. 1787. With -forty-seven plates, the same as in the first edition. This book is not well edited, as -the letterpress does not always agree with the pictures.</p> - -<p><i>Note.</i>—In every case the date of the engraving has been copied from an existing -impression. Possibly there are earlier and later states. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span></p> - -<h2 id="A_SOP_TO_CERBERUS">A SOP TO CERBERUS<br /> - -<span class="medium">THE CASE OF GOVERNOR WALL, 1782-1802</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“He wandered here, he wandered there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A fugitive like Cain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mourned, like him, in dark despair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A brother rashly slain.”<br /></span> -<span class="i4">—<i>A Tale without a Name.</i> <span class="smcap">James Montgomery.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>On the 26th of August 1782, a captain in the army, -named Joseph Wall, just come home from foreign -service, sat down to compose his report to the Secretary -of State. A glance would tell that he was one of those -chosen by destiny to rule man and enslave woman. -Although the swift, hot courage of the Celt shone in his -fearless eyes and slumbered in his rough-hewn features, -the beetling brow, resolute jaw, and fierce, mobile mouth -were softened by the gentle mesmeric charm that marks -all of his race. In stature he was a giant; while his -sweeping shoulders, which towered above the heads of -most, the thick, gnarled fingers and stalwart limbs, -indicated a mighty strength. For the rest, he was a -clean-looking man, with light brown hair and a fresh -complexion. Yet the dull grey lines in his face told -that the tropics had levied that tax upon his physique -which the British soldier is ever eager to pay.</p> - -<div id="i_112" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_112.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="copy script"><i>Etched by J. Chapman</i></p> - -<p class="caption large"><span class="smcap">Governor Wall.</span></p> - -<p class="copy script"><i>Published by J. Cundee Ivy Lane Jan<sup>y</sup>, 1804</i></p> -</div> - -<p>There was nothing of moment in the officer’s report -to Secretary Townshend. It was merely a rough -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span> -account of the termination of his stewardship while -Governor for eighteen months at the island of Goree. -Mere chance had thrown this tiny sun-baked rock once -more into the possession of Great Britain. Three years -previously the French fleet under de Vaudreuil, <i>en -route</i> to the West Indies, sweeping down upon Senegal, -had seized the English posts at Fort Lewis and Fort -James. The victory of Sir Edward Hughes had -reversed the position. By the capture of the island of -Goree, which nestles south of Cape Verde scarcely three -miles from the mainland, the approach to the enemies’ -settlements on the opposite shore was placed in the -hands of England. Being a station of some importance -for trading purposes, owing to its proximity to two -great rivers of West Africa, a British garrison remained -there during the course of the war. Though deemed -less unhealthy than the coast, its climate was deadly. -Not a mile in length, and scarcely more than a quarter -in breadth, the men had little scope for exercise. All -ranks detested the place. The regiment was composed -of the riff-raff of the army; the officers were those who -could get no other appointment.</p> - -<p>Joseph Wall was worthy of better things. Nature -had made him one of those soldiers of fortune whom -his native land has sent forth unceasingly year by year -into the armies of every country in the world. About -the time of George III.’s accession he had flung aside -the religion of his fathers to obtain a commission, and -two years later, at the age of twenty-five, the young -Irishman saw his first fight in the West Indies. His -fiery valour during the storming of Fort Moro gained -him promotion, and he returned home from Havannah -in 1762 with the rank of captain. Fate, however, -robbed him of his birthright, for twelve years of weary -peace laid their rust upon his restless soul. Soon an -appointment under Company John took him to Bombay, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -but opportunity never came to draw his sword in a war -of nations. At the close of his residence in India he -returned to his father’s home, Abbeyleix, in Queen’s -County, a sad example of him whom fortune welcomes -with a smile and then turns away her face for ever. -The keen spirit that could find no outlet under arms was -ill fitted for the civilian’s life. Joseph Wall, the soldier -of fortune, possessed none of the grace of humour which -might have softened his red, untamable temper. Broils -innumerable led to many a bloody duel, and on one -occasion—so tradition relates—he crossed swords with -‘Fighting Fitzgerald’ Rumour credits him also with -the death of a faithful friend, and, ’tis said, <i>dux femina -facti</i>. Indeed, several affairs of gallantry stain his -record, and once he was called upon to answer an insult -to a lady in a court of justice.</p> - -<p>At last he sought active service once more. The -British colony that borders the river Gambia in -North-West Africa offered him employment, and Fort -James, a station on the estuary, became his home. -Unfortunately, Colonel Macnamara, the Lieutenant-Governor, -was a man of similar disposition to his young -officer, and during August 1776 the inevitable encounter -took place. Wall, on the plea of ill-health, happening -to disregard one of the orders of his superior, was cast -into prison without trial, and was immured for nine -months. An action at law, which appears to have been -heard during the year 1779, was the result, and the -jury, who, guided by Lord Mansfield, held the opinion -that Colonel Macnamara had acted with unnecessary -severity, ordered him to pay the sum of a thousand -pounds to the victim of his tyranny.</p> - -<p>Previously, having returned to England, the Irishman -had become fortune-hunter, and cut a dash at Bath or -Harrogate, searching in vain for his rich heiress. Such -a precarious existence could not endure, and during the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span> -year 1780, Joseph Wall, whose finances were at a low -ebb, again was compelled to seek employment. The -command of the recently captured island of Goree was -going a-begging—two Governors having succumbed to -the climate in a space of eighteen months—and he -accepted the post. Its perquisites were considerable; -for as the control of the vast trade along the coast of -Senegambia was in his hands, there were endless -chances of lucrative commissions and levying extortion -upon the native chiefs. Huge inflammable Wall was -just the man to tame and cow the rebellious gaol-birds -who formed his garrison, and he ruled them with a hand -of steel. Neither men nor officers loved his methods. -As ships touched but seldom at this far-distant port, -the soldiers were called upon often to submit to short -commons. A glance from the fiery Governor quelled -the murmurs, for a merciless flogging was the fate of -the unlucky one upon whom his eye rested for a second -time. Even the iron frame of Joseph Wall was soon -conquered by the deadly climate. In less than two years -he was compelled to send in his resignation. On the -11th of July 1782 he quitted the arid rock, and, his ship -being lucky enough to avoid the cruisers of France and -Spain, he landed safely at Portsmouth before the end -of August. Thus it came about that this soured and -disappointed man sent his report to Mr Townshend.</p> - -<p>Joseph Wall was only in his forty-sixth year. -Although his health had broken down temporarily, he -was capable still of a long period of active service. -But the unkind fate that had offered his only chance at -the close of the Seven Years’ War, and had kept him styed -in Senegambia during the struggle with the American -colonies, was smoothing the way for the younger Pitt -and his ten years’ peace. Thus fortune sports with -nations, giving to one Frederick, to another Daun, -working miracles with Chatham, or assisting Choiseul -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span> -to open the flood-gates of a deluge. Lucky, indeed, -for humanity that every man has not his opportunity. -Valour was not lacking in the British officers who -fought at Lexington, at Bunker’s Hill or Saratoga, but -theirs was no mate to the courage of those who did -battle against them beneath the shadow of the rope. -During the early years of the American War a hundred -Joseph Wall might have erected a forest of gibbets -and have made the colony a second Poland, but the -United States never would have survived its birth. It -is far better as it is. Truly, there were giants in those -days—cruel, untamable giants, but capable of superhuman -achievements; and though from time to time we -cast off their chains, bidding them stalk through a world -of slaughter, yet, to the credit of our race, the spirit even -of that robust age kept them mostly in their dungeons -of obscurity.</p> - -<p>For only ten months did the Irish soldier of fortune -enjoy his retirement undisturbed. Dark rumours had -been whispered of his bloody régime in West Africa, -and one Captain Roberts made grave accusations, of -which, however, a court-martial at the Horse Guards -took little heed—merely censuring the giant tenderly -in minor matters, as the beating of a sentry, with a -humorous rider that the man got what he deserved. -They are tedious complaints, such as rise to the lips of -the slack and spiteful when a strenuous commander -insists upon a rattle of bones. It was not until the -troopship <i>Willington</i> brought home the remainder of -the garrison of Goree—now ceded to the French—that -a more substantial charge was laid against the ex-Governor. -In a few days the newspapers announced -that the surgeon and a couple of officers, who had -been examined before the Privy Council, had presented -a terrible indictment of cruelty against their late -commander. Towards the end of February 1784, two -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span> -men set out for Bath to take Joseph Wall into custody. -Although distressed by the warrant, he submitted -quietly, merely asking that a lady friend should be -allowed to accompany him to London. The ‘Castle -Inn,’ Marlborough, was the first halting-place on the -journey along the most famous of coach-roads, and on -the 1st of March, the next evening, they rested at the old -‘Brown Bear’ in Reading. Here Captain Wall protested -that his custodians should not occupy the same bedroom -as himself; and to humour him, as ordinary mortals are -in the habit of humouring a restive giant, they agreed -to remain in an adjoining chamber. A drop to the -ground from a first-floor window was not the obstacle -to deter the untamable soldier, and the next morning -the police-officers found that their captive had vanished. -A reward of £200 was offered for his apprehension on -the 8th of March, the day on which he is believed to have -set foot on French soil. It is understood that he wrote -to a friend, stating he should surrender for trial as soon -as the popular clamour against him had died away, and -it is certain that he sent a letter containing a similar -promise to Secretary Townshend, now Lord Sydney, on -the 15th of October of the same year. This intention, -however, was not fulfilled, and gradually the case of -Governor Wall, whose cruelty had excited so much -indignation, faded from public memory.</p> - -<p>The cause of his arrest was an incident that occurred -on the eve of his departure from Goree in 1782. For -some time the felon soldiers under his command had -been muttering low growls of discontent. Short allowance -had been their lot for a long period, and the fear -arose that the usual compensation would not be paid unless -they received it before the Governor left the island. On -the 10th of July preparations were hastened for Wall’s -departure. All was bustle at the storekeeper’s office, -where a servant was packing the commander’s luggage. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span> -No doubt it was whispered among the men that the -home-bound vessel would carry a wealth of merchandise, -which by right should be left for the garrison. Early in -the morning the Governor observed a body of soldiers, -twenty or more, marching across the hot sand towards -his residence, where they had no right to intrude. -Though enraged at this evidence of insubordination, he -merely gave an order that they should retire. Two -hours later, a still larger number was seen approaching -Government House. Wall went out into the blazing -tropical sunlight to meet them. So determined were -they to vent their grievances that they did not pause -to consider that this act was flagrant mutiny. Since -their commanding officer had forbidden a similar gathering, -the right course was to send a deputation to the -Governor, explaining their demands through the proper -channels.</p> - -<p>That Wall considered the situation was serious, is -proved by the fact that he temporised with the men, -dismissing them without any threat of serious punishment. -In later days he protested—which version was -endorsed by several eye-witnesses—that the conduct of -the soldiers who spoke to him was insolent and menacing, -and that he induced them to disperse by a promise to -consider their claims. At all events, he came to no -decision until he had taken counsel with his officers, -whom he met, as usual, at the two o’clock dinner. The -methods adopted show that elaborate precautions were -deemed necessary in order to avoid a grave disturbance. -Roll-call was sounded about an hour before the proper -time, and as the pink flush of evening was stealing -over the burning rock the soldiers assembled on parade. -Unaware that reprisals were contemplated, the corps -was drawn up in a half-circle within the ramparts, in the -centre of which stood the Governor and his four available -officers. As the men were falling in, or perhaps a little -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span> -while before, another case of insubordination arose. -Word was brought that there was a mutiny in the main -guard. Away hurried the intrepid commander to the -scene of the disturbance. Snatching a bayonet from the -hands of a drunken sentry, the angry giant belaboured -the man lustily, and thrust back an excited soldier named -George Paterson, one of the ringleaders of the morning, -who was about to break from the guard-room.</p> - -<p>Having thus smothered this miniature rebellion, the -Governor, whose inflammable temper had burst its bonds, -hastened back to the parade ground. In those robust -times a commanding officer had rude methods of dealing -with disobedient soldiers, and Wall had no tender -scruples against straining to the utmost all the power -that martial law had given him. Yet in spite of his -bloody tyranny, it is impossible not to admire the -courage of the stout-hearted Irishman. The whole -regiment, two-thirds of which was composed of civil or -military convicts who had exchanged prison life for servitude -on the deadly island, loathed his authority. A few -miles off on the coast lay the French settlements, where -English rebels would be sure of an eager welcome. -There were but seven officers to support the Governor, -and one of these, who sympathised with the claims of the -soldiers, was under arrest. Except half a dozen artillery-men -and some blacks, the remainder of the garrison -belonged to the ill-conditioned African corps—a hundred -and fifty strong. One bold leader might have raised a -swift mutiny. There was a ship in the harbour, and in -a few hours the rebels would have been safe within Gallic -territory in Senegal.</p> - -<p>But the courage of Joseph Wall, which had borne him -across the rocky slopes of Moro amidst the hail of -Spanish bullets, did not quail before the scowling faces -of his own men. Calling two of them from the ranks of -the circle—Benjamin Armstrong, sergeant, and George -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span> -Robinson, private—he charged them with disorderly -conduct during the morning, and commanded his officers -to try them by drumhead court-martial. As the penalty -had been decided previously, the proceedings were brief. -After a few moments’ discussion the little tribunal announced -the sentence—eight hundred lashes apiece for the -two mutineers. A gun-carriage having been dragged forward, -the men in turn were ordered to strip. The mode -of punishment struck terror into every heart. No cat-o’-nine-tails -could be found; nor was it thought safe to -trust a white man with the flogging. When the victim -was bound to the cannon, one of the blacks was called -up, a rope put into his hand, and he was ordered in -military formula to “do his duty.” After twenty-five -lashes a new operator took his turn in the usual way. -During the whole time the garrison surgeon looked on, -but made no comment. A thousand strokes of the ‘cat’ -was a common punishment in those Draconic days, and -it seemed immaterial whether the flagellation was inflicted -with a bunch of knotted leathern thongs or with a -rope’s-end. When at last the long agony was over, the -two poor soldiers were taken to nurse their bruised and -swollen backs in the hospital.</p> - -<p>On the following morning, the 11th of July, the bloody -work was continued. Drastic Wall thought fit to leave -an imperishable record of his mode of government. Beneath -the flaming blue sky the soldiers were marshalled -upon the parade ground once more, and four of their -number were selected for punishment in the same informal -manner. George Paterson, the guard-room rebel, -was sentenced to eight hundred lashes; Corporal Thomas -Upton, a ringleader of the deputation, and Private -William Evans, were condemned to receive three -hundred and fifty and eight hundred strokes respectively; -while Henry Fawcett, the drunken sentry, was -let off with forty-seven. Having thus vindicated his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> -authority, the terrible Governor proceeded to his ship, -which, to the great joy of the awestruck garrison, -weighed anchor the same day.</p> - -<p>Soon after his departure the drama became a tragedy. -A poisonous climate and scanty rations had undermined -the physique of the soldiers; besides which, the sickly -season was at hand. The ignorance of the medical -attendants was supplemented by an immoderate use of -brandy. Since the first occupation of the island, men -had dropped like flies, while to the sick and wounded a -visit to the hospital was almost equivalent to a sentence -of death. Corporal Thomas Upton died two days after -his punishment; Sergeant Armstrong succumbed on the -15th of the month; George Paterson only survived until -the 19th of July. Meanwhile, Joseph Wall, on the high -seas, knew none of these things.</p> - -<p>Cruel, wanton, reckless as was the deed of the -Governor of Goree, such things were of everyday -occurrence in the army of his time. Sir Charles Napier -has left record of the merciless floggings of which he was -an eye-witness a decade later. Forty years after the -Peace of Versailles a court-martial had no hesitation in -passing a sentence of a thousand lashes. Although the -rope’s-end employed in the punishment of Armstrong -and his fellows was probably a more formidable instrument -than the regimental ‘cat’ it was no more dangerous -than the bunch of knotted cords used in the navy. A -social system that permitted women and children to be -hanged for petty larceny had a Spartan code for its -soldiers on active service.</p> - -<p>Moreover, any lack of firmness on the part of Joseph -Wall might have brought him face to face with a serious -mutiny. Riot was the sole means of expression of the -inarticulate mob, both civil and military. A few months -after the disturbance at Goree, General Conway, -Governor of Jersey, was called upon to quell a fierce -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span> -rebellion among his troops. About the same time wild -insubordination was rife in the regiments quartered at -Wakefield and Rotherham. The danger of a similar outbreak -in a far-off island, garrisoned for the most part -by gaol-birds, and close to the French possessions, was -multiplied a hundredfold. Severe as were the methods -of Wall, had such a man been in command at the Nore -the nation would have been spared the terror and ignominy -of ‘Admiral’ Parker. Unfortunately for himself, -the discipline of the Irish giant was exerted to punish a -personal affront. Had his soldiers refused to cheer the -birthday of some German princeling, he might have -flogged to death a whole company with impunity. Yet, -relatively, the ways and means of inflammable Wall were -tame. On the 4th of August 1782, Captain Kenneth -Mackenzie, who ruled over a similar regiment of convicts -at Fort Morea on the coast of Africa, blew to atoms a -mutinous fellow-Scot, a private under his command, from -the mouth of a cannon. For this deed, being brought to -trial two years later, he was condemned to death, but -subsequently granted a free pardon. At the time of his -escape from the ‘Brown Bear’ at Reading, there were -rumours (so Wall alleges) that the Governor of Goree -had put to death soldiers in Mackenzie fashion. In -which case he bore the stigma of another’s sin.</p> - -<p>For twenty years after his flight from England -Joseph Wall remained a fugitive from justice, being an -exile for the greater proportion of the time. Paris -was his principal abode, where he was able to meet many -compatriots, who held commissions in the French army. -Yet, although poor and in disgrace, he was never tempted -to swerve from his allegiance to his king. To have -joined the colours of France would have raised him from -comparative poverty to affluence, but he kept loyal, -treasuring the hope that some day he would be able to -return to his country a free man. There is evidence of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span> -his presence in Paris at the time of the flight to Varennes -in 1792; but previously he paid a visit to Scotland, and -had married the fifth daughter of Baron Fortrose, Frances -Mackenzie, who gave birth to a son in 1791. At one -time he resided in Italy, where he wandered as far as -Naples. All these years his crime lay heavy upon his -conscience, and it is said that several times he meditated -surrender. There is a legend that once he went as far -as Calais with this intention, but, his resolution failing at -the last moment, he remained on shore. By a strange -chance, the boat in which he should have reached the -packet was swamped in the harbour before his eyes—a -noteworthy fact, like the drowning-escape of immortal -Catherine Hayes, for all who credit the old adage.</p> - -<p>About the year 1797—so the <i>European Magazine</i> tells -us, although the date seems premature by three years—he -came over to London incognito, where he lived with -his wife in Upper Thornhaugh Street, Bedford Square, -under the name of Thompson. One day, while some -workmen were painting the house, he happened to express -a few words of sympathy for a sickly apprentice lad, -who he had been told was in a decline. “Yes, poor -little fellow,” observed the foreman; “his father was -flogged to death by that inhuman scoundrel, Governor -Wall.” Sometimes in real life poetic justice will assert -its power.</p> - -<p>For a long while the outlaw was undecided whether to -run the risk of surrender. Under the shield of oblivion -he might have continued to live in the metropolis without -danger, for his crime was almost forgotten. Yet there -were urgent reasons why he should vindicate his character, -as his wife was entitled to property which she -could not receive unless her husband appeared in person -in a court of law. Before such a step could be taken it -was necessary for him to stand his trial. In his dilemma -he consulted Mr Alley, the famous counsel, who, in the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> -face of his flight from justice, could give him only cold -comfort. However, Joseph Wall was not the man to -shirk risk in pursuit of a definite object. On the 5th of -October 1801 he sent a letter to Lord Pelham, Secretary -of State, announcing his presence in England; while on -the 2nd of November he appeared before the Privy -Council, and was committed to Newgate.</p> - -<p>The Special Commission appointed to judge the case of -Governor Wall met on the 20th of January 1802. At -nine o’clock in the morning the Court assembled in all the -majesty of a State trial. Its president was Sir Archibald -Macdonald, Chief Baron of the Exchequer, a political -Scot who, like many of his betters, owed his position -to a wife. Sir Giles Rooke of Common Pleas, and Sir -Soulden Lawrence of King’s Bench, two merciful and -kind-hearted judges, sat on either side to give assistance. -Never was there a more formidable array of counsel -for the Crown. Grim and spiteful Attorney-General -Edward Law; the urbane and much-underrated Spencer -Perceval, Solicitor-General; Thomas Plumer, George -Wood, and Charles Abbott, all three destined to hold -distinguished positions on the Bench; and lastly, William -Fielding, who, like his more famous father, became a -London magistrate. Nor were the three barristers for -the defence less illustrious: Newman Knowlys was -appointed Recorder of London; John Gurney, one of -the greatest of criminal advocates, rose to be a judge; -and Alley, defender number three, was as astute a -lawyer as any of the rest.</p> - -<p>No shudder of sympathy sweeps through the crowded -court as the figure of the crimson giant passes into the -dock. Outside swell the low growls of a gutter-wallowing -mob; within, every heart cries aloud for vengeance -upon the grim tyrant. Joseph Wall faces his accusers, -as he faced all enemies, with fearless eyes and undaunted -soul. From the firm, martial tread and high, unbent -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> -brow, none would judge that this is an old man, who -has lived for sixty-five years. At the close of the -indictment the voice of the prisoner rings through the -court, to the surprise of all.</p> - -<p>“My lord,” he exclaims, “I cannot hear in this -place. I hope your lordship will permit me to sit near -my counsel.”</p> - -<p>“It is perfectly impossible,” stammers the scandalised -scion of the Lords of the Isles. “There is a regular place -appointed by law. I can make no invidious distinction.”</p> - -<p>Jaundice-souled Law opens the attack in most persuasive -cut-throat manner, compelled to be fair in spite -of his opportunity by reason of instinctive tolerance for -all savouring of bloodthirsty tyranny. Pinning the -jury down to the first indictment, he bids them think -only of the fustigation of Armstrong. “Can the prisoner -prove a mutiny?” is Law’s reiterated demand. “You -cannot flay soldiers alive, unless they deserve it!”</p> - -<p>Law-logic is a marvellous thing. “Wall left island -day after flogging,” it persists; “<i>ergo</i>, no mutiny.” The -jury suck in this eloquence open-mouthed—visions -of neatly-plaited halters hover before their retinas. -“Governors never turn their backs directly mutiny is -quelled,” argues Law, and the myriad black-and-white -sprites, who, invisible and in silence, weave their -gossamer threads of passion into the webs of poor human -nature, hear and tremble. Yet their handicraft still -sparkles with the hues of Iris, for not even British law-giver -can paint the spirits of the soul in the dull self-colour -of his own dreary brain. “Generals never desert -their beaten army,” we can hear Law thunder at Judges’ -dinner ten years later; “Napoleon is still with his troops -on the Beresina!” Wonderful logic, wonderful Law! -Pity, for the sake of cocksuredom, that hearts do not beat -as he bade them.</p> - -<p>“Prisoner did not report this rope’s-end business to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span> -Secretary Townshend,” cries the logician. “Why not? -Because mutiny plea was an after-thought to cloak his -crime.” One wonders of what fashion were the accounts -of his stewardship, if any, that this stalwart pillar of -Church and State made in daily confession to his God. -Did he omit naught? Or did he report all cruel lashes -for which he had given sentence, and did he speak of his -savage opposition to a change of the bloody code? Kind -forgetfulness given by Providence to those who need it -most! “Prisoner did not report flogging, because he did -not know the man was dead.” Jury mouths open wider -upon this marvellous Law, for reason whispers in their -ears, “Then prisoner did not intend that the man should -die.” But reason is dinned out of their tradesmen -pates. “After-thought—after-thought!” clangs ding-dong -Law, and echo comes to the true and bewildered -twelve: “Away with him to the gallows!”</p> - -<p>First witness appears—Evan Lewis—Cambrian bred; -a race of man for the most part having no mean, superlative, -or unspeakable. Lewis was, or says he was, -orderly sergeant on the day of the Goree flagellation; -now he is Bow Street runner, brave in scarlet waistcoat. -“No mutiny!” declares this Lewis. “Men were as good -as gold. They couldn’t have been bad if they’d tried.” -Perceval gently leads the witness along, and much is -communicated. “Flogged to death without trial”—such -is the meaning of Taffy’s testimony. In due course, other -soldiers of the precious garrison follow—one, two, three, -four, five—and the parrot cry, “No mutiny,” smites the -ears of the tradesmen in the jury-box. The Scotch lip -of the Lord-of-Isles grows more attenuated, and he sees -the man in the dock crowned with halo of crimson. His -busy pencil scribbles notes for the edification—at the -proper time—of the luckless twelve men, good and true. -“Witnesses each say different things,” writes Caledonian -pencil. “But what else can you expect? The thing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> -happened twenty years ago!” And this Caledonian -tongue repeats—at the great and proper time.</p> - -<p>A gentleman and officer—for things are not what they -seem—is produced by Law in due course, one Thomas -Poplett, a lieutenant under untamable Wall. This -estimable Poplett confesses the Governor had him safely -under lock and key—for disobedience—on the day of -flagellation, which shows that the red Irishman was not -a bad judge of some men’s deserts. From his prison -Poplett witnessed the thrashing of Armstrong, and he -produces rope with which it was done, or rather someone -told him, who had it from one of its nigger wielders, that -this was the very same. The Caledonian pencil scribbles -industriously. Hearsay evidence? not a bit of it. Nor -proof of malice neither, for the nice Poplett may be a -collector of curios. But the nice Poplett had done some -odd things in his time; had been sacked from Lord -George Germaine’s office for telling tales out of school—a -dabbling-in-Funds speculation—such things as disgrace -men still. The name of Poplett, too, had been posted in -the Stock Exchange, with a footnote, ‘Lame-duck’ -or some equivalent compliment. A most estimable witness, -indeed, this nice Poplett. Splendid material for -Caledonian pencil.</p> - -<p>There was yet another of similar breed—Peter -Ferrick, surgeon of Goree. The rope’s-end business was -well in hand when he arrived. Peter takes much credit -for this unpunctuality, and the Lord of Isles jots it down -a black mark against the prisoner—the why is not clear. -“The Armstrong back-slashing did not seem more severe -than usual to Doctor Ferrick, but the man is dead.” -Doctor Ferrick was amazed at the time, but he knows -now that the rope’s-end killed him—a marvellous pair of -eyes in the skull of this Ferrick! “Brandy-drinking in -the tropics after such fustigation would not be wholesome, -and would be done contrary to leech-Ferrick’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span> -orders.” Corollary, note by Scotch pencil—if there was -brandy-drinking, the treatment was unskilful, and prisoner -must answer for the leech-folly. Query—“Why didn’t -Ferrick stop the flogging?” Great wrangling among -counsel on account of this same query. “Improper -question—the twelve honest tradesmen must not be -prejudiced against the man in the dock.” Still, innuendo -remains: <i>i.e.</i> leech-Ferrick did not interfere, because he -was afraid of Wall! The Scotch lip lengthens, and its -owner pats the timid leech on the back approvingly. -What a grim, bloodthirsty tyrant, this Governor Wall! -think the honest twelve. Leech-Ferrick steps down, -proud and satisfied that Caledonian pencil has wrote him -down an ass. To hang Wall is all he cares. Better a -live donkey than a dead giant. Going home, he comes -to the bad end of many fools—he writes a letter, which is -printed by <i>The Times</i>.</p> - -<p>Then the tyrant is called upon for his defence. It is -simple and straightforward, for he knows nothing of -Law-logic. “The soldiers were turbulent; Armstrong -was disobedient; every cat-o’-nine-tails was destroyed, -so he did the thrashing with a rope; he had no intention -of killing the man, who might not have died but for -brandy-soaking in hospital; he ran away from Reading -twenty years ago, because the mob was howling for his -blood, believing that he, like Kenneth Mackenzie, had -blown men from cannons.” <i>N.B.</i>—The red soldier must -have remembered how successfully the ’57 mob had -howled for the death of kid-gloved Byng.</p> - -<p>Witnesses for the crimson tyrant follow—a poor lot. -Number one, mincing Mrs Lacy, wife of late second in -command at Goree. This lady gets angry with magnificent -Law, to the great scandalisation of the Lord of -Isles, and tries to put everyone right, for they are all -wrong. Contradictions annoy the Court. When there -has been plain sailing—though close to the wind, no -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span> -matter—it is annoying to think out new and perplexing -tracks. “Welshman Lewis was not orderly-sergeant,” -persists Mrs Lacy. “The deputation to the Governor -was eighty strong. Her husband’s brain was turned by -the sun in 1784, so he would have been no use as witness -to the arrested Governor.” All this borders on the -superfluous, shocking the Chief Baron, upon whom the -honest twelve glue their round and honest eyes. “The -soldiers threatened the Governor—upon my oath, they -did,” vociferates Mrs Lacy, while the Lord-of-Isles, -no doubt, thinks sadly of another such shrill voice that -assails his ears at home. Then magnificent Law—a -naughty Attorney-General now—plies witness with -searching questions about solitary visits to imprisoned -giant, here in Old Bailey; and though the military widow -makes wrathful repudiation, this thin-ice skating exhibition -sinks deep into the pious souls of the virtuous -twelve. A wicked profligate also, think they, is this -cruel red Irishman!</p> - -<p>Mary Faulkner, gunner’s wife, comes next, and says -similar things, and more; she even heard the men -discuss the killing of Governor Wall. Her husband, -gunner Faulkner, corroborates. Agrees with the two -last that Armstrong was mutinous and threatening. -Admits, however, he had little trial. Great excitement -among Crown counsel, and learned Plumer presses the -point. “Very little trial” is the conclusion sought, -and Caledonian pencil records it. No matter that consistent -Law has laid it down that if there was a mutiny -he will not press for proof of elaborate court-martial. A -prisoners witness has scored a point for the other side, -and they record it—“Scarcely any trial at all.”</p> - -<p>What matters the rest, while the prim Scotsman, -in full-bottomed wig, brandishes his pencil! Peter -Williams, soldier, endorses all said by women Lacy and -Faulkner, but clever Plumer shows him up, on the word -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> -of an officer, as “a lying, shuffling fellow.” Private -Charles Timbs swears that ‘cats’ were all destroyed by the -men, but no one heeds him. Deputy-Advocate Oldham -instructs the tribunal that drum-head court-martials are -never reported to Government Department. Thus, why -should Wall report his small explosion to Secretary -Townshend, why——? But what does this signify in face -of what Law had laid down—“Never mind trial! Can -prisoner prove the mutiny?” No need to press Deputy -Oldham, for there is no chance of scoring another -point at the expense of prisoner’s witness.</p> - -<p>Then arrives the great and proper time. The pencil -has done its work, and Caledonian tongue now speaks, -and Caledonian lip, having arrived at full tension, -trembles. Important comments are delivered—a general -ripping-up of the Wall witnesses. Chief Baron reads -the report to Secretary Townshend, and adds footnote: -“No mention of mutiny”—suspicious. Again: “Two -officers returned from Goree at same time as the -Governor. This,” he echoes Law-logic, “does not -indicate existence of mutiny.” Further: “Prisoner -made his escape when all witnesses who could prove his -innocence were alive”—still more suspicious. Twelve -good and honest brows grow still darker and more -vengeful. The rope-ending is contrasted with the -birching of children; marvellous parallel—as though the -maternal heart bore resemblance to the provisions of -Mutiny Acts! Back-slapping of leech-Ferrick is long -and loud. “Be careful not to hurt a toss-pot,” declares -the Lord-of-Isles, “for if he drinks himself to death, you -are his murderer!” Wonderful Caledonian pencil that -is able to out-logic wonderful Law.</p> - -<p>It is ten o’clock at night. For thirteen hours the -unfortunate twelve have been box-fast. Within twelve -honest waistcoats lies a dull and aching vacuum. The -Laws, Plumers, and Lords-of-Isles have similar sensations, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span> -in spite of the adjournment-gorge in an upper -chamber. Yet, when they retire, the good tradesmen -debate this military cause sedulously for the space of -sixty minutes. They have sons and brothers in the -army, and doubtless much suppressed eloquence to -explode. At last, an hour before midnight, they return -into Court, faces stern and dark. The deaf giant receives -the verdict with a start of surprise, but without -tremor of limb. To him the proceedings have been a -long, dreary mumble, and he longs for repose. In good -set terms, for the benefit of reporters and the junior bar, -the Recorder passes sentence, and, as the curtain falls, -the gaol-bird mob outside growls forth its plaudits.</p> - -<p>Till Friday morning, only thirty-two hours, has been -allowed the prisoner to prepare for death. Before trial, -Keeper Kirby had given him a spacious and comfortable -room, but a cell in the Press Yard wing must now be his -portion. With a cry of impotent rage the weary giant -flings himself upon his bed, and declares he will not rise -till the fatal hour. During the black winter night the -felons in other cells hear his voice, for the poor crushed -giant is singing hymns to his Maker. Next day there is -much wear and tear of good cloth in the seats of the -mighty. Government officials sit long over case, and a -respite till the Monday following is the result of their -labours. The love of the noble and devoted wife, given -long ago to him whom she knew as one of the world’s -pariahs, shines brighter and more beautiful amidst the -dreadful darkness, and she toils without ceasing for a -reprieve. All the influence of Clan Mackenzie—such as -it be—is summoned to the aid of the condemned soldier, -for the second daughter of the house had married Henry -Howard, and their kinsman, his scapegrace of Norfolk, is -induced to take up the cudgels on behalf of the chained -giant. Unfortunately, the senior peer is not a favourite -at headquarters. Still, Secretary Pelham gives heed so -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span> -far as to send down another respite to Newgate on -Sunday eve. Wall’s hanging-day is now settled for -Thursday, the 28th of January, and the Monday morning -mob of gallows-birds howls fiercely when discovery is -made that it has been baulked of its prey for a few dozen -of hours; which same howls, penetrating in ministerial -mind’s-ear to the purlieus of Whitehall, set ministerial -hearts palpitating with apprehension. For the Pilot -who weathered the Storm no longer has a home in -Downing Street, and the hearts of ministerial successors -lack tissue.</p> - -<p>Not all the wealth of woman’s tears can move authority -to greater mercy on behalf of the red giant. The smug -and closet-petted doctor, who cares naught for military -matters, is bent on his French peace in spite of all that -patron Pitt may say, and it seems a small matter to hang -a mob-detested officer. “Soldiers a drug in the market—we -are going to be friends with the good Buonaparte,” -think Farmer George and his Council when they confabulate -on Wednesday afternoon. The Caledonian -pencil-notes are consulted, and cobwebs gather fast -around the bewildered royal brain. Kingly thoughts -dwell lovingly upon the royal prerogative of the gallows—a -truly English pastime, worthy of a British prince -whose blood has run itself clear of all Hanoverian coagulations. -Chancellor Eldon, being interrogated, finds -his load of learned lumber ill-digested for the moment, -and doubts, and doubts, and doubts. Then some brave -and discreet statesman—oblivion shrouds his illustrious -name—mentions the mutineers of the ‘Fighting Téméraire’ -a dozen or so of whom a few days before had -ornamented the yard-arms at Spithead, and King and -Council ponder deeply. Newgate howls have been -ominous, Newgate cries have been eloquent, and the -time-honoured platitude, “One law for rich, another law -for poor,” has often ended in window—sometimes royal -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span> -window—smashing. Mercy seems a great risk, far greater -because of the ‘Téméraire’ yard-arm business than the -unpopular pardon of Kenneth Mackenzie. On the other -side there is the alluring picture of the great triumph of -British equity—the balance of justice—‘Téméraire’ rebels -hanging on one side of the scale, and mob-hated Joseph -Wall on the other. “Foreign nations please observe -and copy!” A notable triumph for an English-born -German prince. Like the peace that was to be, it -seemed an experiment worth the while. Farmer George -and Doctor Henry prove to have most forcible willpower -in the Council, and when his Gracious Majesty -posts off to Windsor at five o’clock, to drink tea with -his Princesses, the Governor of Goree has been left for -execution.</p> - -<p>In the condemned cell that same evening the devoted -wife and husband hope still for the reprieve that never -comes. Keeper Kirby has promised the grief-stricken -woman that she shall remain in the gaol till the last -possible moment, and while the clock slowly beats its -march to the hour of eleven the heart-rending tragedy -unfolds its agonies.</p> - -<p>“God bless you, my dear,” cries the giant in their -last embrace. “Take care of the children. Let them -think as well of me as you can.”</p> - -<p>Then, while the Governor of the prison escorts the -poor lady along the cold, dark corridors, she sobs forth -her one piteous question for the hundredth time:</p> - -<p>“Is there no hope?”</p> - -<p>“Madam, I trust your wishes may be fulfilled,” -replies Kirby. “But it is now a late hour, and I have -received no orders.”</p> - -<p>Sister Howard, who also has borne this terrible vigil, -supports the fainting woman from the portals of the -charnel-house, and their carriage rumbles away over -the stones of Old Bailey. Even these loving friends -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span> -have failed him, and the red giant must bear his last -dismal journey alone. Two turnkeys watch over him, -lest he may do himself injury, for he wears no fetters.</p> - -<p>“It is a long night,” he exclaims about two o’clock, -as he tosses wearily upon his couch.</p> - -<p>Still, his voice is strong and resonant with its military -ring, though his mighty form has sunk beneath a weight -of torture into a mere gaunt framework of bones. -Bread-and-water has been his diet since the sentence, -and Sheriff Cox, although assiduous in his visits to the -unhappy man, will not relax his stern rules. In a little -while, as if he looked for sleep, he asks whether the -scaffold will make a noise when it is dragged out into the -street. With compassionate lie, they answer that it will -not, but his thoughts dwell morbidly upon his destiny.</p> - -<p>“I most earnestly request,” he tells his attendants, -“that I may not be pulled by the heels when I am -suffering.”</p> - -<p>They attempt to appease him by the promise that -it shall be done as he wishes, but he has seen hangings -in plenty, and he knows what may happen.</p> - -<p>“I hope that the fatal cord may be placed properly,” -he persists, “and that I may be allowed to depart as -fairly and easily as my sentence will allow.”</p> - -<p>At last he falls asleep, and when the huge wooden -machine lumbers between the prison doors with a sound -that reverberates through the whole building, he is -unconscious of what has happened. Also, it is not -recorded that he heard the dread chaunt of the bellman -outside in the Old Bailey:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“You that in the condemned hole do lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prepare you, for to-morrow you shall die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watch all, and pray, the hour is drawing near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That you before the Almighty must appear.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>About half-past five he awakes with a start as a -mail-coach rumbles along Newgate Street. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span></p> - -<p>“Is that the scaffold?” he demands, and they tell -him no.</p> - -<p>Once more he makes anxious inquiries about the -methods of the hangman, and they satisfy him as well -as they can. Shortly before seven he is led to the -day-room of the Press Yard, where he is joined by -Ordinary Forde, who, robed in full canonicals, with -a great nosegay beneath his chin, seems prepared for -a wedding day. A fire is smouldering on the hearth, -and a nauseating smell of green twigs fills the chill stone -chamber. Gaunt and terrible is the aspect of the red, -untamable giant, who is meek and penitent, but with -soul still unbowed. A yellow parchment-like texture -is drawn tightly over his sunken features, and through -their hollow sockets the piercing eyes shine as though -in ghastly reflection to the glance of death—not the -triumphant glitter thrown back by Death Magnificent, -but the stony, frightful stare imparted by the Medusa -of Shame. A suit of threads and patches hangs loosely -upon his emaciated limbs—an old brown coat, swansdown -vest, and blue pantaloons—a sorry garb for one -who has worn a colonel’s uniform in his Majesty’s -army. For a moment his piercing gaze falls upon -Ordinary Forde.</p> - -<p>“Is the morning fine?” is the strange, eager question. -“Time hangs heavily,” the hollow far-away voice continues. -“I am anxious for the close of this scene.”</p> - -<p>As if in response to the wish, Jack Ketch’s lackey, -a dwarf with face of a demon, draws near with his -cords and binds the giant’s wrists.</p> - -<p>“You have tied me very tight,” is the weary complaint.</p> - -<p>“Loosen the knot,” commands absolute Forde, and -the sulky wretch obeys with low mutterings.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, sir,” murmurs the giant. “It is of little -moment.” The green twigs upon the hearth crackle in a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> -shower of sparks up the wide chimney, and a shovelful -of coals is thrown upon the burning mass. Death’s -piercing glitter flashes from the eyes of the dying man -while his brain paints pictures in the flames. Then his -lips move slowly:</p> - -<p>“Ay, in an hour that will be a blazing fire.”</p> - -<p>Ay, and you are thinking that in an hour, you poor, -red, untamable giant will have finished your long torture, -and be lying cold and still—while that fire blazes merrily. -In an hour one loving, great-hearted woman will have -entered upon the agony-penance that she must endure -to the grave. In an hour your little ones will be -children of a father upon whom his country has seared -the brand of infamy—and these green twigs will have -become a blazing fire! Sad—yea, saddest of words that -could fall from human lips!</p> - -<p>Then the demon of suspense torments the poor giant -once again, and he turns to the Ordinary appealingly:</p> - -<p>“Do tell me, sir—I am informed that I shall go down -with great force; is that so?”</p> - -<p>Ordinary’s thoughts cease for a moment to dwell -lovingly upon his breakfast-gorge with the Sheriff—the -epilogue to every hanging—and professional pride swells -his portly soul. With reverent unction he explains the -machinery of the gallows, speaking of ‘nooses and -knots’ with all the mastery of expert, for Jim Botting -and his second fiddle ‘Old Cheese’ are no better -handicraftsmen than Ordinary hangman Forde. Presently -he in his turn grows curious.</p> - -<p>“Colonel Wall,” he inquires, “what kind of men were -those under you at Goree?”</p> - -<p>The haunting glance of death-shame fades from the -piercing eyes, and through the portholes of his soul there -flashes the living spirit of defiance.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” he cries, “they sent me the very riff-raff!”</p> - -<p>Suddenly the reverend Ordinary bethinks himself of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> -his holy office, and plunges headlong into prayer; a -contrast that must compel the tear of recording angel—smoke-reeking, -unctuous, ale-fed Forde and contrite, -half-starved, but invincible giant. Sheriff Cox and his -myrmidons enter as the clock is striking eight. A look -of eagerness passes over the cadaverous lineaments, a -gaunt figure steps forward, and a firm, hollow voice -murmurs:</p> - -<p>“I attend you, sir.”</p> - -<p>Although his head is bowed, his tread is that of the -soldier on parade as they pass out into the keen winter -air. A crowd of felons, destined soon for the gallows, -is huddled in groups, here and there, within their courtyard -den, and as the procession passes through the -quadrangle they hurl forth curses of hell against the -man who is marching to his death. The giant head falls -lower, and the martial tread beats faster. “The clock -has struck,” he cries, as he quickens his step. There -is a halt in another chamber beyond the Press Yard. -An ingenious law-torment is demanded—the Sheriff’s -receipt for a living corpse. A legal wrangle follows; -the red giant’s body is not described in good set terms, -and there is much quill-scratching, while the giant gazes -calmly. Then the march is resumed down the loathsome -passages, and the soul of Greatheart warms as eternity -draws nearer.</p> - -<p>In another moment, the most wondrous prospect of -his life opens before his eyes. High upon the stage, -with back turned to the towering wall, as befits a soldier, -his vision ranges over a tossing sea of savage faces, a -human torrent that fills the wide estuary, surging full -and fierce to the limits of its boundaries. Then a -mighty tumult rises from the depths of the living whirlpool, -the exultant roar of a myriad demons thirsting for -blood. At last the giant limbs tremble, as the shouts -swell fiercer and louder still—three distinct terrific huzzas—unmistakable -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span> -to trained ears; they come from the -angry throats of a thousand British soldiers, the fierce -war-cry learnt from the cruel Cossack long ago. The -red tyrant is delivered to the mob at last. Some say -it is the shout of punters delighted to have won their -bets, and loudly press the strange apology; but reason, -giving preference to comparative methods, calls to mind -the savage exultation that hailed the atonement of skipper -Lowry and Mother Brownrigg, of Burke and Palmer, -and muses thoughtfully upon this balance of justice.</p> - -<p>The gnarled, bony fingers of the red giant grasp the -hand of Sheriff Cox, while the foul-odoured beast fumbles -with the halter around his neck, withdrawing the noose -and slipping it once more over his head. The victim -turns to the plump Ordinary with a last request:</p> - -<p>“I do not wish to be pulled by the heels.”</p> - -<p>The priest deftly draws the cap over the gleaming, -shrivelled face, and mumbles from his book. No -clanging bell disturbs the peace of the sufferer, for he -is a murderer, and this blessed torture is not for those -of his class. The bareheaded crowd gazes with rapture -upon the wooden scaffold, shorn of its appalling garb of -black—another mercy vouchsafed to him who dies guilty -of a brother’s blood. Suddenly there is a second -mighty shout of triumph. The rope hangs plump -between the two posts, and the tall, gaunt form is -swaying in empty air. In another moment there are -cries of horror, but of horror mingled with applause. -The noose has formed an even collar around the giant’s -neck, while the knot has slipped to the back of his head, -which is still upright and unbent. Horrible convulsions -seize the huge, struggling frame. It is a terrific scene—most -glorious spectacle of suffering that a delighted -crowd has ever gazed upon—Jack Ketch has bungled! -Minutes pass, and still the hanging man battles fiercely -for breath. Minutes pass, and not a hand is stretched -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> -forth to give him relief. Sheriff’s eyes meet eyes of -Ordinary in mutual horror. Sheriff’s watch is dragged -from its fob, and when the little steel hands have -stretched to a right angle, at last a hasty signal is made -to the expectant hangman. Two butchers beneath the -scaffold seize upon the sufferer’s legs, and soon his agony -of more than a fourth of an hour is brought to a close. -A fierce shock, indeed, to reason and the balance of -justice argument—a fiercer shock still to those that cling -lovingly to the tenets of Hebrew mythology.</p> - -<p>With a sigh of relief Sheriff and Ordinary hurry away -to coffee and grilled kidneys in Mr Kirby’s breakfast-room, -leaving the crowd to watch the victim hanging—which -crowd does with gusto, scrambling fiercely a little -later for a bit of the rope, which Rosy Emma, worthy helpmate -of Jack Ketch, retails at twelvepence an inch, and, -furthermore, gloating with delight upon the cart that -presently takes the wasted form of the dead giant to the -saws and cleavers of Surgeons’ Hall dissecting-room, -Saffron Hill. Tight hands at a bargain, these bloodletting, -clyster-loving old leeches! They demand fifty, -some say a hundred, guineas from the giant’s friends, and -they pocket the ransom before they surrender their -corpse. Devoted old leeches: <i>sic vos non vobis</i>—we are -the learned legatees of your dabblings in anatomy. A -few days later—it is a Thursday morning, numbered -the 4th of February in the calendar—a few merciful -friends bear the giant’s coffin to a resting-place in St -Pancras Churchyard. Epitaph does not appear, for cant -refuses to superscribe the true one—“England did not -expect him to do his duty!”</p> - -<p>As we look back upon the glowing perspective of our -history, there are few scenes that stand out in fiercer -grandeur than the flogging of Goree. Foul-smelling, -Lilliputian picture, it shines, nevertheless, with the same -unconquerable spirit of genius that clapped a telescope -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> -to the blind eye at Copenhagen. One untamable hero, -armed merely with a crimson rope, faces a hundred cut-throats, -and, within view of the ramparts of the enemy, -cows them into licking his shoes, declaring that an -insult to himself is an insult to his King. Truly a -David and Goliath picture.</p> - -<p>“Wrong,” cry Farmer George and Doctor Henry, -glancing timidly, as with mystical prescience, down the -vista of ages to Board School days, and quaking at -swish of cat and clank of triangles, guilty of as deep -anachronism as he who hurled a shell at the tomb of the -Mahdi, to the great disturbance of bread-and-milk -nerves. For birch twigs and cat—essential forerunners -of Standards Six—had much Peninsular and Waterloo -work in front of them, and it was just as easy to chain -red giants as to hang them.</p> - -<p>“Wrong,” cry Farmer Merciful and Doctor Justice, -busy with knife and steel, getting ready a keen edge -for the grey, gallant head of poor crazy Despard, and -eager to paste the town with balance of justice placards—“‘Téméraire’ -insubordinates, and red giant of Goree—both -hanged. Let foreign nations please copy.” And, -doubtless, a burst of inordinate Gallic laughter hailed -this <i>jeu d’esprit</i>, for Gallic neighbours had other things -for the encouragement of red giants—a field-marshal’s -baton and the like.</p> - -<p>There is no place for the musings of modern milksop. -The deeds of the parents of his grandfather are for him -merely a tale that is told, and as he closes the family -record his bread-and-milk soul must only give thanks -that his lot is cast in more pleasant places. Modern eye -can but discern the red giants of a bygone world -through a glass darkly. Cruel, crimson, unscrupulous—they -were all that: children of murkiness even as -we are children of light, and thus let comparison end. -One hundred years—as great a barrier as a million -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> -miles of ether—has divided our ages, <i>et nos mutamur</i>. -A thousand pencils—Saxon and Caledonian—have -banished with Dunciad scorn the birchen wand that -used to betwig merrily the tender fifteen-year-old flesh of -ribald lad and saucy maiden. Triangle and cat, rope’s-end -and grating, ceased years ago to terrify the hearts -of rolling Jack and swaggering Tommy. Good Mr -Fairchild no longer takes little Harry and little Emily -to view the carrion of the gibbet, <i>exempli gratiâ</i>, for the -modern Mr Fairchild does not remember that such -instruments ever had their proper places in the land. -Red giants, too—only to be let loose when occasion -required—had their proper places in the good old times -of birch-rod and gibbet, of Farmer George and Doctor -Henry, who found much use for them in the taming -of the Corsican ogre. Modern milksop, however, will -scarcely concede that such times were good, or, at least, -most wrong when inconsistent! Be that as it may, the -cat and rope’s-end of the crimson giant were a portion -of Britain’s bulwarks, in spite of inconsistent headshakings -of Farmer George and Doctor Henry, of -Brother Bragge and Brother Hiley—all of which, -fortunately, is as repulsive to the soul of modern milksop -as the dice and women of Charles Fox, or the two-bottle -thirst of the Pilot who weathered the Storm. -Lucky, perhaps, for bread-and-milk gentleman that he -had fathers before him.</p> - -<p>No other case bears the same resemblance to that -of Joseph Wall as the incident of Kenneth Mackenzie -and his cannon-ball execution. Some, indeed, have -a certain affinity, and exhibit the national conscience -overwhelmed by periodical fits of morality—a hysterical -turning-over of new leaves. A few days before the red -giant of Goree passed through the debtor’s door, Sir -Edward Hamilton of the ‘Trent’ frigate was dismissed -from the navy for an act of cruel tyranny, only to be -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> -reinstated in a few months. Thomas Picton, England’s -“bravest of the brave,” was shaken by the same wave -of humanity. Yet, after all, the guilt of the Admiral or -the innocence of the hero of Waterloo were of little -moment to a nation that continued to mutilate its -enemies in the fashion of a dervish of the desert, under -the sacred name of high treason. For, years later, the -bloody heads of Brandreth and Thistlewood stained an -English scaffold. Luckily for their oppressors, the -victims of Hamilton and Picton—officers who did not -stand in the desperate position of the Governor of -Goree—survived their punishments, not having a leech-Ferrick -to reckon with, else Farmer George and -Doctor Henry, in the face of those dangling ‘Téméraire’ -seamen, would have been in an awkward dilemma.</p> - -<p>The case of George Robert Fitzgerald, often held -forth as a parallel by contemporary pressmen, has little -similarity to that of Wall. Both belonged to the 69th -Foot, they were antagonists in a Galway duel in ’69, -and both ended their days on the scaffold; but here -comparison ends. The retribution that overtook -‘Fighting Fitzgerald’ at Castlebar was the fitting -penalty of a vendetta murder, brutal and premeditated, -and wrought without a semblance of authority.</p> - -<p>Fifty years before the death of Joseph Wall, the -London mob was able to indulge its fury in like fashion -against another black-beast of its own choosing, one -James Lowry, skipper of the merchant ship ‘Molly’ -compared to whom the Governor of Goree appears to -have been a mild and merciful commander. At different -times, three sailors expired beneath the terrible -floggings of Captain Lowry, who was wont to salute -his dying victim with the cry, “He is only shamming -Abraham.” And as the cruel seaman was carried in -the cart to Execution Dock, the furious mob howled -forth this ghastly catchword, just as they saluted Wall -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span> -with the echo of the phrase which they supposed he -had uttered while Benjamim Armstrong was being -flogged to death, “Cut him to the heart—cut him to -the liver.”</p> - -<p>Nor was the cruel tyrant only to be found in the -merchantman, or was Edward Hamilton a solitary exception. -Captain Oakham of the British navy is more -than a creature of fiction, as is shown by the trials of -Edward Harvey in August 1742, and of William Henry -Turton in August 1780, which cast a lurid light upon -the conditions of life in our ships of war. Midshipman -Turton was a butcherly young gentleman, who turned -his sword against a disobedient sailor in a sort of -Captain-Sutherland-and-negro-cabin-boy fashion, but, -owing to a Maidstone grand-jury petition and the -absence of ‘Téméraire’ mutineers, there was no hempen -collar for him.</p> - -<p>The story of Joseph Wall has no exact parallel in -our history, for the Mackenzie incident differs in two -essential particulars—the dour Kenneth meant murder -from the first, and did not pay the penalty of his crime. -Lowry, Turton, and Sutherland were guilty, like ‘Fighting -Fitzgerald,’ of common homicide, and the <i>malice -prepense</i>, as law-givers understand the phrase, was -clear and unmistakable. Even the lax morality of -Doctor Henry’s days was compelled to take cognisance -of giant Wall’s offence, just as it punished very properly—or -tried to do—the sins of Picton and Hamilton; and -a verdict of manslaughter, though delivered by a tradesman -jury, would not have been an illogical conclusion. -However, it remains a judicial murder—one of the most -disgraceful that stains the pages of our history during -the reign of George III. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span></p> - -<h3 id="BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_THE_WALL_CASE">BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE WALL CASE</h3> - -<h4>I. <span class="smcap">Contemporary Tracts</span></h4> - -<p>1. <i>An Authentic Narrative of Joseph Wall Esqr.</i> By a Military Gentleman. -J. Roach, Britannia Printing Office. Russell Court, Drury Lane (1802). Brit. Mus.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Except in the tract published by A. Young—a transparent plagiarism—there -is no corroboration of the statement that Wall flogged to death a man -named Paterson on the voyage out to Goree. As no reference is made in any -contemporary newspapers, it seems probable that the ‘Military Gentleman’ has -confused his materials. George Paterson, a soldier, received eight hundred lashes -the day after the punishment of Armstrong, and died soon afterwards, which may -have caused the mistake. If Wall had done another such deed in 1780, it is -probable that it would have obtained greater publicity.</p></blockquote> - -<p>2. <i>The Life, Trial and Execution of Joseph Wall Esqre.</i> By a Gentleman. -A. Young, Vera Street, Clare Market (1802). Brit. Mus.</p> - -<p>3. <i>The Trial at Large of Joseph Wall Esqre.</i> Also an Account of his escape in -1784. John Fairburn, 146 Minories.</p> - -<p>4. <i>The Trial of Lieut. Col. Joseph Wall.</i> Taken in shorthand by Messrs -Blanchard and Ramsey. London (1802). Brit. Mus.</p> - -<p>5. <i>Life, Trial and Execution of Joseph Wall Esqre.</i> (with a full length portrait). -E. Lawrence, C. Chapple, and H. D. Symonds.</p> - -<p> -This tract is advertised in the <i>Morning Chronicle</i>, February 9, 1802.<br /> -</p> - -<p>6. <i>The Trial of Governor Wall.</i> With particulars of his escape at Reading in -1784 and his subsequent surrender in 1802. Fred Farrah, 282 Strand, (The Only -Edition Extant). Brit. Mus. Copied from earlier accounts.</p> - -<h3>II. <span class="smcap">Contemporary Newspapers and Magazines</span></h3> - -<table> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">1.</td> - <td colspan="3"><i>The Public Advertiser</i>, March 1784.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">2.</td> - <td colspan="3"><i>The Gazetteer and New Advertiser</i>, August 14, 1783, and March 1784.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">3.</td> - <td><i>The General Evening Post</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">March 1784.</td> - <td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">4.</td> - <td><i>The Bath Chronicle</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">5.</td> - <td><i>The Bristol Journal</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">6.</td> - <td colspan="3"><i>The London Gazette</i>, March 9, 1784.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">7.</td> - <td colspan="3"><i>The Times</i>, March 1784, January 1802.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">8.</td> - <td colspan="3"><i>Morning Post</i>, July 21 and August 12 and 13, 1783, March 1784, January 1802.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">9.</td> - <td><i>Morning Chronicle</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">March 1784,</td> - <td class="tdc">January 1802.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">10.</td> - <td><i>Morning Herald</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">11.</td> - <td><i>St James’ Chronicle</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">12.</td> - <td colspan="2"><i>Lloyd’s Evening Post</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">13.</td> - <td colspan="2"><i>The True Briton and Porcupine</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">14.</td> - <td><i>The Star</i>,</td> - <td></td> - <td class="tdc">do.<br /> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span></td> - </tr> -</table> - - -<blockquote> - -<p>In the <i>Morning Post</i> of August 13, 1783, there appears the report of the -court-martial held at the Horse Guards on July 7 and following days, which -practically acquitted Wall of the charges brought against him by Captain Roberts. -The <i>Gazette</i> of March 9, 1784, contains the King’s Proclamation, dated -March 8, describing the personal appearance of the escaped prisoner, and -offering a reward of £200 for his apprehension. To those who consult contemporary -journals for a first time there will come a surprise, for they will learn -that Governor Wall on July 10 and 11, 1782, flogged to death not <i>one</i> man but -<i>three</i>. No account later than the Espriella Papers, and not one of the many -<i>Newgate Calendars</i>, gives this information. Surgeon Ferrick’s letter appeared -in <i>The Times</i>, February 5, 1802.</p></blockquote> - -<p>15. <i>The Gentleman’s Magazine</i> (1784), part i. p. 227; (1802), part i. p. 81.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The January number, 1802, endorses the statement that Augustine Wall, -the brother of the Governor of Goree, was “the first person, who presumed to -publish Parliamentary Reports with the real names of the speakers prefixed.” -This evidence is important, as Sylvanus Urban might have grudged such an -admission. His own claims, however, are set forth very modestly. “Dr -Johnston (in our magazine) dressed them (<i>i.e.</i> the speakers in Parliament) in -Roman characters. Others gave them as orators in the senate of Lilliput. Mr -Wall laid the foundation of a practice which, we trust for the sake of Parliament, -and the nation, will never be abandoned.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>16. <i>The European Magazine</i> (1802), pp. 74, 154-157.</p> - -<p>17. <i>The Annual Register.</i> Appendix to Chronicle, pp. 560-568.</p> - -<h4>NOTES</h4> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note I.</span>—<i>Dict. Nat. Biog.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Although reference is made to the dubious case of the flogging of the man -Paterson during Wall’s outward voyage to Goree, there is no mention of the -fact that four other soldiers were flogged by the Governor’s order on the same -day and the day following the punishment of Benj. Armstrong, and that -two of these also died of their wounds. There seems to be no authority for -the statement that Wall “appears to have been in liquor” when he passed -sentence on the men, and as such a presumption, which was never put forward -by the prosecution, sweeps away all defence, and proves that the act was -murder, it should not be accepted without the most trustworthy evidence. -Mrs Wall’s father, Kenneth Mackenzie, Lord Fortrose, never became Lord -Seaforth; her brother did. Since Wall did not remain at Goree for more than -two years, and left the island on July 11, 1782, it is evident that he did not -become Governor in 1779. His letter to Lord Pelham, offering to stand -his trial, was written on October 5, 1801, not on October 28. <i>State Trials</i>, -vol. xxviii. p. 99.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note II.</span>—<i>State Trials of the Nineteenth Century.</i> By G. Latham Brown -(Sampson Low, 1882). Vol. i. pp. 28-42.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>On page 31 the author states that he has searched the records of the -Privy Council in vain for a report of the charges brought against Wall by -Captain Roberts in 1783. As stated previously, he would have found what he -required in the columns of the <i>Morning Post</i> of August 13, or the <i>Gazetteer</i>, -August 14, 1783. It is strange that he is unaware that Wall flogged to -death two other soldiers besides Benj. Armstrong.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note III.</span>—<i>Edinburgh Review</i>, January 1883, <i>vide</i> criticism of G. L. Brown’s -book, p. 81.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>To the writer of this review belongs the credit of being the first to hint a -doubt as to the justice of Wall’s conviction.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note IV.</span>—<i>A Tale without a Name</i>—a tribute to Joseph Wall’s noble wife—will -be found in the works of James Montgomery, Longman (1841), vol. iii. p. 278. -<i>Vide</i> also <i>Life of Montgomery</i>, by Holland and Everett. Longman (1855), vol. iii. -p. 253.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note V.</span>—Other contemporary authorities are <i>Letters from England by Don -Alvarez Espriella</i>, Robert Southey, vol. i. pp. 97, 108, and the familiar <i>Book for -a Rainy Day</i>, by J. T. Smith, pp. 165-173. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span></p> - -<h2 id="THE_KESWICK_IMPOSTOR">THE KESWICK IMPOSTOR<br /> - -<span class="medium">THE CASE OF JOHN HADFIELD, 1802-3</span></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i18">“... a story drawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From our own ground,—the Maid of Buttermere,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And how, unfaithful to a virtuous wife<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deserted and deceived, the Spoiler came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And woo’d the artless daughter of the hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wedded her, in cruel mockery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of love and marriage bonds....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside the mountain chapel, sleeps in earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her new-born infant....<br /></span> -<span class="i10">... Happy are they both,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mother and child!...”<br /></span> -<span class="i12">—<i>The Prelude</i>, Book vii. <span class="smcap">Wordsworth.</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>During the late autumn of 1792, a retired military man -of amiable disposition and poetic temperament, who had -made a recent tour through Cumberland and Westmoreland, -published his impressions in a small volume -which bore the title <i>A Fortnight’s Ramble to the Lakes</i>. -The book displays the literary stamp of its period just -as clearly as a coin indicates the reign in which it -is moulded. Fashion had banished the rigour of the -pedant in favour of idyllic simplicity. The well-groomed -poet, who for so long had recited his marble-work epistle -to Belinda of satin brocade, now spoke to deaf ears; -while the unkempt bard, who sang a ballad of some -muslin-clad rustic maid, caught the newly-awakened -sympathies of the artistic world. -</p> - -<div id="i_146" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_146.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="copy script"><i>Etched by J. Chapman</i></p> - -<p class="caption large"><span class="smcap">John Hatfield</span>.</p> - -<p class="copy script"><i>Published J. Cundee Ivy Lane</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span></p> -</div> - -<p>The author of <i>A Fortnight’s Ramble</i>, having the -instinct of a good literary salesman, was not backward -in sentiment, and among his thumb-nail sketches of -rural life he was careful not to omit the portrait of a -village damsel. There is certainly much charm in the -impression of his humble heroine, whom he discovered -in a tiny hamlet on the shores of Lake Buttermere, -where, according to the laws of romance, she was the -maid of the inn. No doubt the child of fourteen was -as beautiful as he describes her—with her long brown -curls, big blue eyes, rosy lips, and clear complexion, and -with a grace of figure matured beyond her years. The -pity is that the picture was ever drawn.</p> - -<p>Before the close of the year the charms of ‘Sally -of Buttermere’ had been quoted in a London magazine, -and henceforth the tourist was as eager to catch a -glimpse of the famous young beauty as to visit Scale -Force or Lodore. Very soon the inn where she lived—“a -poor little pot-house, with the sign of the Char”—became -a place of popular resort. Verses in her praise -began to cover the white-washed walls; and while she -was in the full bloom of youth, wandering artists, who -have handed down to us her likeness, took the opportunity -of persuading her to sit for them. That Mary -Robinson was a modest and attractive girl is shown by -the testimony of Wordsworth and Coleridge, and there -is evidence that she remained unspoilt in spite of her -celebrity.</p> - -<p>Six years after the publication of <i>A Fortnight’s -Ramble</i>, its author, Joseph Budworth, paid a second -visit to the home of his ‘Sally of Buttermere’ Mary, -who was nineteen, and still charming, seemed destined -(after the fashion of village maidens) to become a buxom -beauty, and it is said, indeed, that she had been most -lovely at the age of sixteen. Budworth, however, saw -that she was quite pretty enough to attract hosts of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -admirers, and conscience told him that he had not done -well in making her famous. There was Christmas -merrymaking at the little inn, and she reigned as queen -of the rustic ball. Next morning he confessed to her -that he had written the book which had brought her -into public notice.</p> - -<p>“Strangers will come and have come,” said he, -“purposely to see you, and some of them with very bad -intentions. We hope you will never suffer from them, -but never cease to be on your guard.”</p> - -<p>Mary listened quietly to this tardy advice, and thanked -him politely.</p> - -<p>“You really are not so handsome as you promised -to be,” Budworth continued. “I have long wished -by conversation like this to do away what mischief the -flattering character I gave of you may expose you to. -Be merry and wise.”</p> - -<p>Then, taking advantage of his seniority of twenty-three -years, the good-natured traveller “gave her a -hearty salute,” and bade her farewell. Unfortunately, -he repeated his previous indiscretion by publishing -another long account of the Buttermere Beauty in the -<i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, and, like Wordsworth, who in -similar manner paraded the charms of ‘little Barbara -Lewthwaite’ he lived to regret what he had written.</p> - -<p>Two years later, a handsome middle-aged gentleman -of fine presence and gallant manners paid a visit to -the Lake District, bearing the name of Alexander -Augustus Hope (brother to the third Earl Hopetoun), -who, after a successful military career, had represented -the burgh of Dumfries, and now sat in Parliament as -member for Linlithgowshire. An active, strong-limbed -fellow, with courtly demeanour and an insinuating Irish -brogue, the contrast between his thick black brows -and his fair hair, between the patch of grey over his -right temple and the fresh colour of his face, added to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span> -an appearance of singular attractiveness. These were -the days of the dandies, when young Mr George -Brummell was teaching the Prince of Wales how a -gentleman should be attired; and Colonel Hope was -distinguished by the neatness and simplicity of a well-dressed -man of fashion.</p> - -<p>The new-comer reached Keswick about the third -week in July, travelling in his own carriage without -ostentation, having hired horses and no servant. Soon -after his arrival he went over to Buttermere, and -remained there for two or three days. Towards the -end of the month he visited Grassmere, where he -became acquainted with a genial merchant from Liverpool, -whose name was John Crump. Being a most -entertaining companion—for he was a great traveller, -had fought in the American War, and, as might -be expected of one so gallant and handsome, had been -engaged in numerous duels—Colonel Hope had the -knack of fascinating all whom he met. With Mr Crump, -who for some reason was not in favour with the young -poet at Greta Hall, he struck up a great friendship -during his three weeks’ stay at Grassmere, and a little -later the merchant showed his appreciation by christening -one of his children ‘Augustus Hope’ as a compliment -to his new acquaintance.</p> - -<p>About the end of the third week in August the -member of Parliament, whose passion, we are told, was a -rod and fly, left Grassmere, and, for the sake of the char-fishing, -took up his quarters at the little inn at Buttermere. -So pleased was he with the district, that he -contemplated the purchase of an estate, and Mr Skelton, -a neighbouring landowner, went with him to inspect a -property near Loweswater. During his sojourn at the -Char Inn he paid frequent visits to Keswick to meet his -friend John Crump. Although wishing, for the sake of -quiet and seclusion, to travel incognito, Colonel Hope -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span> -seems to have been a gregarious person, and could not -help extending the number of his acquaintances. At the -‘Queen’s Head’ Keswick, where his Liverpool friend -was in the habit of stopping, he came across a kindred -spirit in Colonel Nathaniel Montgomery Moore, who had -represented the town of Strabane in the recently extinct -Irish Parliament.</p> - -<p>Since the two had much in common, a close intimacy -ensued; but there was another reason for Colonel Hope’s -friendly advances. A pretty young lady of fortune, to -whom Mr Moore was guardian, was one of his party, -and the new acquaintance began to pay her the most -evident attention. Colonel Hope, in fact, always had -been remarkable for his insinuating behaviour in the -society of women, and since his arrival in the Lake -District he had been concerned in an affair of gallantry -with at least two local maidens far beneath him in station. -However, this was a pardonable weakness, for the Prince -himself, and his brothers of York and Clarence, did not -disdain to stoop to conquer. But on the present occasion -the gay Colonel apparently had fallen in love, and -when, before very long, he asked the lady to be his wife, -he was accepted.</p> - -<p>It is not strange that a man of his power of fascination -and handsome appearance should have met with success -even on so short an acquaintance. The match seemed -a most suitable one in every respect, and Mr Moore -would have been well satisfied that his ward should be -engaged to a man of Alexander Hope’s rank and -position. Yet the lover did not hasten to take the -guardian into his confidence. Remaining at the little -inn on the shores of Buttermere, only occasionally he -made the fourteen miles’ drive to visit his <i>fiancée</i> at -Keswick. Colonel Moore, who could not remain blind to -the flirtation, became anxious lest his ward should place -herself in a false position. It was evident that the two -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span> -behaved to each other as lovers, and the Irishman was -impatient for the announcement of the betrothal. Still, -the love affair ran a smooth course until the close of the -third week in September; but as the time went on, and -the engagement remained a secret, the suspicions of the -lady’s guardian began to be aroused. Since it was -apparent that his friend had committed himself, his duty -was plain. There were only three explanations of his -reticence. Colonel Hope was not the man he pretended -to be, or he had quarrelled with his relatives, or else his -passion was beginning to cool.</p> - -<p>The first proposition already had been whispered -among a few. Although his <i>bonhomie</i> and air of distinction -had made him a great favourite with his -inferiors, yet the fact that the reputed Colonel Hope was -travelling without servants, and had selected a woman -of fortune as his conquest, prejudiced critical minds. -Coleridge, who was engaged in basting the succulent -humour of the gentle Elia before a roasting fire, seems -to have cast the eye of a sceptic upon the popular -tourist from the day of his arrival. However, no open -rupture took place between the Irishman and Alexander -Hope, but towards the close of September they met less -frequently.</p> - -<p>On Friday, the 1st of October, Colonel Hope sent -over a letter to his friend at Keswick, explaining that -business called him to Scotland, and enclosing a draft for -thirty pounds, drawn on Mr Crump of Liverpool, which -he asked him to cash. Pleased, no doubt, at this mark -of confidence, which may have appeared a favourable -augury of his ward’s happiness, Colonel Moore at once -obeyed the request, and forwarded ten pounds in addition, -so that his friend might not be short of funds on -his journey. On the next day, the sensation of a lifetime -burst upon the people of Keswick. At noon, the landlord -of the ‘Queen’s Head’ returning from the country, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span> -brought with him the great intelligence that the Hon. -Colonel Hope had married the Beauty of Buttermere!</p> - -<p>It was obvious to everyone—aye, even to the sceptic -of Greta Hall—that the mystery was at an end. Alexander -Hope was no impostor. Avarice had not led -him to attempt the capture of a lady of fortune. Torn -between love and honour, he had doubted whether to -give his hand when his heart was disposed elsewhere, or -to break his word. Thus, obeying the impulse of love, -he had married a girl of the people. Native pride in -the Beauty of Buttermere was strong in every breast, -and the next mail conveyed to London the news of her -great triumph.</p> - -<p>But Colonel Moore, who had the right to be wroth and -suspicious, would not be appeased by the explanations -which satisfied the multitude. Since he could not believe -that a gentleman would behave in such a fashion, he -made haste to test the credentials of his late friend. The -bill of exchange was forwarded to Mr Crump, who, -delighted to be of service to Colonel Hope, from whom -he had received an affectionate note requesting the -favour, at once accepted it! Still the Irishman refused -to be convinced, and he sent a letter to the bridegroom, -informing him that he should write to his -brother, Lord Hopetoun. Moreover, he told all friends -of his intentions.</p> - -<div id="i_152" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_152.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="copy script"><i>J. Smith, sculp.</i></p> - -<p class="caption large"><span class="smcap">The Beauty of Buttermere.</span></p> - -<p class="copy script"><i>Published in the Act directs. June 25-1803.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>During his five or six weeks’ residence at the Char -Inn, the amorous tourist must have had full opportunity -of forming a contrast between the Irish girl and Mary -Robinson. The Beauty of Buttermere was now in her -twenty-fifth year. A healthy outdoor life had matured -her robust physique, and her figure, though graceful still, -had lost the lines of perfect symmetry. The keen -mountain air had robbed her complexion of its former -delicacy, and with the advance of womanhood her -features had not retained their refined, girlish prettiness. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span> -Still, her face was comely and pleasant to look upon. -The charm of her kind and modest nature was felt -by all who met her, and she seems to have possessed -culture and distinction far in advance of her lowly -station. Indeed, one of her most celebrated admirers -hints plainly that a mystery surrounded her parentage, -and that her breadth of mind and her polished manners -were the result of gentle birth. However, there appears -no warrant for such a surmise.</p> - -<p>So, at last, Colonel Hope had begun to waver in his -ardour for the Irish girl. Naturally, she was not content -to remain under a secret engagement, and her inclinations -favoured a brilliant wedding, which her husband’s noble -relatives should honour with their presence. Such delay -had not pleased the lover, who wished the announcement -of the betrothal to be followed by a speedy marriage. In -this respect his other inamorata had been less exacting. -Poor Mary expected no pomp or ceremony, and had -never imagined that a peer and his people would come -to her wedding. All the odium that can attach to the -man who pays his addresses to two women at the same -time is certainly his, for it is stated on good authority -that he made his first proposal to the Cumberland girl -before he commenced the courtship of Colonel Moore’s -rich ward.</p> - -<p>Then, when the heiress refused to fall in with his wishes, -he made the final choice. On the 25th of September he -went over to Whitehaven—about twelve miles as the -crow flies from Buttermere—with the Rev. John Nicholson, -chaplain of Loweswater, a friend of two weeks’ -standing, to obtain a special licence for his marriage with -Mary Robinson. Naturally, no opposition was raised by -the parents; and although it has been said that the -reluctant girl was overruled by their persuasions, it is -certain—as far as any judgment of human nature can -be certain—that she was a willing bride. Nor—since -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span> -his record shows that each woman whom he cared to -fascinate was unable to resist him—is it difficult to -believe that Mary was in love with her handsome suitor.</p> - -<p>On the morning of Saturday, the 2nd of October, the -wedding took place in the picturesque old church at -Loweswater, in the beautiful vale of Lorton, about seven -miles from Buttermere. The ceremony was performed -by Mr Nicholson, who had become as firm a friend of the -bridegroom as Crump himself. Immediately after the -service the newly married pair posted off north to visit -Colonel Hope’s Scotch estate. Their first day’s journey -was a remarkable one. Passing through Cockermouth -and Carlisle, they reached Longtown, near Gretna -Green, at eight o’clock in the evening, a distance -of over forty miles. The next day being Sunday, the -bridegroom, who on occasions could affect much religious -zeal, is careful to record, in a letter to the chaplain of -Loweswater, that they made two appearances in church. -On Tuesday or Wednesday they continued their tour -across the Border, but on the following Friday, owing to -Mary’s anxiety to receive news from her parents (so her -husband alleged), they retraced their steps to Longtown. -Here, two days later, important communications reached -Colonel Hope, which made him resolve to return to -Buttermere without delay.</p> - -<p>Friend Nicholson wrote that scandalous reports concerning -his honour had been spread in the neighbourhood -since his departure, and that his wife’s parents had been -much disturbed by the rumours that had reached their -ears—informing him also of Colonel Moore’s opinion of -his behaviour. This latter news was superfluous, for -there was a letter from the Irishman himself. Its contents -may be gathered from the reply that the traveller -despatched to Nicholson on the 10th of October. With -amazing effrontery he tells his friend that his attentions -to the Irish heiress had never been serious, and expresses -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span> -his astonishment that Colonel Moore should censure his -conduct. Yet he shows his concern for the attacks on -his integrity, declaring that he will come back at once -to meet his calumniators face to face. Moreover, he -was as good as his word. Probably he left Longtown -for Carlisle, according to promise, the next morning, -and arrived at Buttermere on Tuesday, the 12th of -October. Thus Mary’s brief honeymoon came to an end.</p> - -<p>As luck would have it, a somewhat remarkable person, -who happened to be acquainted with Colonel Hope, was -now staying at Keswick. This was George Hardinge, -senior justice of Brecon, the late Horace Walpole’s -friend and neighbour, the ‘waggish Welsh judge’ of -whom Lord Byron has sung. Having heard of the -romantic marriage, and being anxious to meet Colonel -Hope, he sent a letter to Buttermere requesting a visit. -Early on Wednesday morning the newly married man -drove over to Keswick in a carriage and four, accompanied -by his factotum, the Rev. John Nicholson, to -answer the summons in person. The meeting, which -took place at the ‘Queen’s Head’ Hotel, was an -embarrassing one. Pertinacious Nathaniel Moore, who -no doubt had kindled in Justice Hardinge’s mind the -suspicions which had caused him to solicit the interview, -was present at the encounter. The Welsh judge found -that Colonel Hope of Buttermere renown was an entire -stranger to him!</p> - -<p>However, the other was in no way abashed, but pointed -out pleasantly that the mistake had arisen through the -coincidence of names. Mr Hardinge persisted that it -was remarkable that he should be Alexander Augustus -Hope, M.P. for Linlithgowshire, when the name -of the representative of that county was Alexander -Hope. The reply was a flat denial that these names -and titles had been assumed, and we are told that the -credulous clergyman bore witness to the truth of this -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span> -statement. Nevertheless, other testimony against the -accused man had more weight with the astute George -Hardinge. Not only was there Colonel Moore’s -declaration that the stranger had always passed as -Lord Hopetoun’s brother, but the Keswick postmaster -was able to prove that he had franked letters as a member -of Parliament. The result was an appeal for a warrant -of arrest to a neighbouring magistrate, and the suspected -Mr Hope was placed in charge of a constable.</p> - -<p>Still, he did not appear disconcerted, but treated the -whole matter as a joke. Others, too, were of the same -opinion, for during the course of the day he presented a -bill of exchange for twenty pounds, drawn once more on -John Crump, to the landlord of the ‘Queen’s Head’ -which that individual cashed without hesitation. The -stranger at once sent £10 to Colonel Moore to cancel the -gratuitous loan received before his departure to Scotland. -Faithful Nicholson, too, retained full confidence in his -genial friend, who ordered dinner to be prepared for both -at the hotel, and continued to bear him company.</p> - -<p>Presently, the prisoner, chafing at the thought of being -kept in durance, asked permission to sail on the lake. -As this appeared a reasonable request, the wise constable -gave his consent. The clergyman accompanied his -companion to the water’s edge, while he made fervent -protests of innocence.</p> - -<p>“If he were conscious of any crime,” he told his trusting -friend, “a hair would hold him.”</p> - -<p>Since, however, he declared that he was guiltless, as a -natural corollary he had no intention of being held by -the whole force of the Keswick constabulary, and Nicholson -must have been aware of his design. For not only -did he give his friend a guinea to pay for the dinner -at the ‘Queen’s Head’ which was a plain hint that -he did not mean to return, but he told him that, as -his carriage had been seized by his accusers, his only -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> -chance of rejoining his wife at Buttermere was by rowing -down the lake.</p> - -<p>Luck favoured him. A fisherman named Burkett, who -had been his companion on many previous expeditions, -had a boat ready for him, and soon he was far across -Derwentwater. A crowd of sympathisers, full of wrath -against his enemies, for they were sure he was a great -man (as an impostor would have had no motive in marrying -poor Mary), stood on the shore with Nicholson and the -intelligent constable to watch his departure. Soon the -short October day drew to a close, and darkness fell upon -the waters, but ‘Colonel Hope’ did not return. Keswick -never saw his face again.</p> - -<p>The conduct of the Rev. John Nicholson has been the -subject of keen censure. Although the province of a -parson is not that of the detective, it is unfortunate that -he did not suggest to the parents of Mary of Buttermere -that it would be wise to verify the statements of their -daughter’s suitor. On the other hand, it must be admitted -that everyone was infatuated by the splendid impostor, -and it is evident that the clergyman was not aware of -the flirtation with the Irish heiress. It is more difficult -to defend Nicholson’s conduct at the interview between -Judge Hardinge and the swindler; for although we have -no precise details of the conversation, it is plain that the -chaplain of Loweswater was guilty of a strange reticence. -Naturally, he knew that his mysterious friend had passed -under the name of Colonel Hope, and had franked letters -as a member of Parliament. Still, not only did he refrain -from exposing, but even continued to trust him, though -he must have perceived him to be a liar. However, -charity may suggest the conclusion that the clergyman -was full of compassion for Mary Robinson; and since he -believed that her husband would join her at the little -Char Inn, he was determined, whether felon or not, that -he should have the chance of escape. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span></p> - -<p>The first announcement of the marriage of the celebrated -Buttermere Beauty with the brother of the Earl of -Hopetoun was printed in the <i>Morning Post</i> on the 11th -of October. Yet, three days later—the morning after the -remarkable escape at Derwentwater—a letter, written -on the highest authority, appeared in the same journal, -denying the previous report and stating that the real -Colonel Alexander Hope was travelling on the Continent. -Thus, by chance, London and Keswick became aware -almost simultaneously that Mary Robinson had been the -victim of a cruel fraud.</p> - -<p>Although his flight had made it evident that the -pretended member of Parliament was an impostor, it was -not until the last day of October that his identity was -discovered. Meanwhile, the most strange rumours had -been aroused. The fact that all his plate and linen were -found packed in his travelling carriage, which was -retained by the landlord in pledge for his twenty pounds, -gave rise to the suspicion that he had meant to desert his -poor young bride. On the other hand, his admirers -persisted that he was an Irish gentleman, hiding from -the authorities because of his share in the recent rebellion. -A costly dressing-case, which he had left behind, was -examined under warrant from a magistrate, but nothing -turned up to reveal his true name. In the end this -discovery was made by Mary herself. While looking -over the dressing-box more carefully, she disclosed a -secret hiding-place containing a number of letters -addressed to him who had forsaken her. Alas for the -Beauty of Buttermere! No anticipation could have -exceeded the cruel reality. The handsome bridegroom -was a married man, and these letters had been written -by the heart-broken wife whom he had deserted. -‘Colonel Hope’ her supposed rich and noble husband, -was a notorious swindler—guilty of a capital felony—whose -real name was John Hadfield! -</p> - -<div id="i_158" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_158.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption script"><i>Mary of Buttermere.</i></p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span></p> -</div> - -<p>Since the days of ‘Old Patch’ no impostor had -reached the eminence of Hadfield. Born of well-to-do -parents at Cradden-brook, Mottram-in-Longdendale, -Cheshire—where a neighbouring village may have lent -his family its surname—forty-three years before the -adventure at Keswick, his habits and disposition had -always been superior to his station in life. As a -youth he was apprenticed to the woollen trade, but -proved too fond of adventure to succeed in business. -Though much of his career is wrapped in mystery, we -know that he was in America between the years 1775-1781, -during the War of Independence, and that he -married a natural daughter of a younger brother of that -famous warrior the Marquis of Granby.</p> - -<p>Having squandered the small fortune he had received -with her, the elegant Hadfield left his wife and their children -to take care of themselves, and by means of credit -managed for a short time to enjoy a career of dissipation -in London. By his favourite device of extortion—passing -drafts or bills of exchange upon persons of wealth, who -would be unlikely to prefer a charge against him—he was -enabled to continue his impositions without any more -serious consequence than an occasional visit to gaol.</p> - -<p>The King’s Bench Prison, where in 1782 he was -confined for a debt of £160, appears as the next grim -landmark in his life. By a lucky chance he was able -to lay his case before the Duke of Rutland, who, having -discovered that the prisoner had married a daughter -of his late uncle, but being ignorant that the wife had -died of a broken heart in consequence of her husband’s -desertion, generously paid the sum necessary to obtain -his release. For many years the impostor’s dexterity -in obtaining money under false pretences from credulous -strangers, who believed him to be a connection of the -Manners family, made it possible for him to associate -with those far above his rank. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span></p> - -<p>During 1784, after a brief career of fraud in Dublin, -where he posed as a relative of the Viceroy, and by -means of this falsehood contracted a host of fraudulent -debts, he was lodged in the Marshalsea Prison. With -unblushing impudence he appealed to the Lord -Lieutenant—his previous benefactor, the Duke of -Rutland—who agreed to pay his debts on the understanding -that he should leave Ireland immediately.</p> - -<p>In the year 1792 Scarborough became the scene of -his depredations. Staying at one of the principal hotels, -he announced his intention of representing the town in -Parliament in the interest of the Manners family. A -portrait of poor Captain Lord Robert caused him to -burst into tears, which evidence of feeling won the -sympathy of all who witnessed it. As usual, his sparkling -conversation and distinguished appearance disarmed -suspicion, and for several weeks he lived in princely -style at the expense of his landlord. When pressed -for money he did not hesitate to offer bills of exchange, -which the local tradesmen accepted without demur. -Yet the day of reckoning, which this remarkable man -never seemed to anticipate, could not be postponed. -On the 25th of April he was arrested for the hotel debt, -and, not being able to find bail, was cast into prison. -Some weeks later, a detainer was lodged against him -by a London creditor, and for eight years he remained -an inmate of the Scarborough Gaol.</p> - -<p>During his long confinement he maintained his -favourite pose as a luckless aristocrat, writing poetry, -and publishing much abuse against the authorities. At -last fortune smiled upon the interesting captive. Neither -Faublas nor Casanova ruled with more success over -the female heart, and it was to a woman that he owed -his release. A Devonshire lady, named Nation, who, -it is said, occupied rooms facing the prison, took compassion -upon him, and paid his debts. On the 13th of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span> -September 1800 the impostor became a free man, and the -next morning, notwithstanding that hitherto they had -been strangers, he married his benefactress. The pair -made their home at Hele Bridge, near Dulverton, on -the borders of Somerset and Devon, where the bride’s -father was steward to a neighbouring landowner, and -before very long Hadfield plunged once more into a -career of fraud.</p> - -<p>A marvellous <i>aplomb</i>, his previous commercial experience, -and a deposit of £3000 which he contributed -towards the firm, induced Messrs Dennis and Company, -merchants of repute in the neighbouring town of -Tiverton, to admit him as a partner. In consequence -of this new enterprise, he removed during the summer -of 1801 with his wife and child to a cottage at the -village of Washfield to be near his business. As before, -the utter lack of prescience and sagacity characteristic -of the man prevented him from reaping the fruits -of his perverted genius, as a less clever but more -prudent would have done. The whole transaction was -a smartly conceived but clumsily arranged swindle. -Since the money for the partnership had been obtained -by inducing a Mr Nucella, merchant of London, to -transfer Government stock, which soon would have to -be replaced, to the credit of Messrs Dennis, Hadfield -was compelled to realise his winnings without delay. -For the sake of a few hundred pounds of ready cash, -he seems to have been eager to sacrifice all that a man -usually holds dear, and to have become a lawless adventurer -once again.</p> - -<p>In April 1802 he was obliged to decamp from Devonshire, -leaving his wife and children as before, while his -partners in Tiverton, who soon discovered that they had -been defrauded by a swindler, proceeded to strike his -name off the books of the firm. During the following -June he was declared a bankrupt. Meanwhile he had -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span> -proceeded to cut a dash in London, and it is said that he -came forward as candidate for Queenborough, with the -object of obtaining immunity from arrest as a member of -Parliament. Being still provided with funds, he made no -attempt to surrender to the commission issued against him; -but compelled, through fear of exposure, to relinquish his -political ambitions, he went on a leisurely tour through -Scotland and Ireland, and in the month of July appeared -at Keswick as ‘Colonel Hope’ to work the crowning -mischief of his life.</p> - -<p>There has been much conjecture with regard to the -motives of Hadfield in his conduct to poor Mary Robinson. -The explanation that he was actuated by pure animalism -cannot be reconciled with our knowledge of his temperament -or his methods, setting aside the initial objection -that the sensualist, already cloyed by innumerable conquests, -does not usually play a heavy stake to gratify a -passing fancy. Nor is it credible that a man who had -the heart to forsake two wives and five children could -have been influenced by love. At first sight it seems -probable that, just as the most reckless speculator often -cuts a desperate loss, he wished to quit a hazardous -career of fraud, and to live a life of quiet and seclusion in -the humble home of the Beauty of Buttermere. Such -foresight, however, was wholly inconsistent with the -nature of the man; and even had he been capable of this -reasoning, a moment’s reflection must have taught him -that his recent ostentation had made retirement impossible. -No; like that of every gambler, John Hadfield’s -destiny was ruled by chance. Each stake he played was -determined by the exigency of the moment; win or lose, -he could not draw back nor rest, but must follow blindly -the fortunes of the day to cover the losses of the past. -Although not able to possess his Irish heiress, the tiny -dowry of Mary Robinson, the poor little inn at Buttermere, -seemed to lie at his mercy, and so he seized upon -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span> -it and threw it—as he would have thrown his winnings of -any shape or kind—into the pool. John Hadfield was a -fatalist, and his motto, <i>Quam minimum credula postero</i>.</p> - -<p>After the interview with Judge Hardinge, the adventurer -became the sport of chance once more. When he -took boat from Keswick on the evening of his clever -escape, he steered his course to the southern extremity of -Derwentwater. The cluster of little islands soon must -have hid him from view, and no one thought of pursuit. -Whatever may have been his impulse, there was no time -to bid adieu to his bride. The path to safety lay far -ahead over the high mountains. Having left the lake -under the guidance of his faithful friend Burkett the -fisherman, his course for a few miles was a comparatively -easy one; but twilight must have fallen before he -had traversed the gorge of Borrowdale, and his flight up -the desolate Langstrath valley, which cleaves its way -between Glaramara and Langdale Pike, was made in the -darkness. By night the journey was a terrible one—over -rocks and boulders, along a broken path winding its course -beside the mountain torrent, up the face of the precipitous -crags, and across the Stake, a tremendous pass high up in -the hills, dividing northern lakeland from the south. From -Langdale he struck west towards the coast, and after a -journey of some fourteen miles reached the seaport of -Ravenglass, on the estuary of the Esk. In this place he -borrowed a seaman’s dress, and took refuge in a little -sloop moored near the shore, and here he was recognised -on the 25th of October. With a hue and cry against -him, it was not safe to remain near the scene of his latest -crime. Going by coach to Ulverstone, he continued his -flight thence to Chester, where early in November he was -seen at the theatre by an old acquaintance. Then he -appears to have walked on to Northwich, and there for -some time all trace of him was lost. An advertisement, -describing his appearance and offering a reward of fifty -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -pounds for his arrest, was published on the 8th of -November and scattered broadcast over the country.</p> - -<p>The next tidings of him came from Builth in Wales, -where, on the 11th of November, he is said to have -swindled a friend, who had no knowledge that he was -the Keswick impostor, by the usual device of a bill of -exchange. On the day following this performance, the -London post brought the newspapers containing the -description of his person, and he hurried away from -the little town on the banks of the Wye in his flight -towards the south. For a time he still baffled capture, -but the pursuers steadily closed upon his track. On the -22nd of November the authorities at Swansea were informed -that a man resembling the published account of the -impostor had been seen in the mountains beyond Neath, -and the next day Hadfield was run to earth at the -‘Lamb and Flag’ an old coaching inn about seventeen -miles from the seaport town. At once he was lodged -in Brecon Gaol, and in about a fortnight’s time the newspapers -inform us that he was brought up to town by one -Pearkes, robin-redbreast.</p> - -<p>The romance of the case attracted a great crowd to -Bow Street when the notorious swindler was brought up -for examination by Sir Richard Ford on the 6th of -December, and the investigation appears to have been -difficult and tedious, for he appeared before the magistrate -each Monday morning during the next three weeks. On -one of these occasions his attire is described as “respectable, -though he was quite <i>en déshabillé</i>,” his dress -being a black coat and waistcoat, fustian breeches, and -boots, while his hair was worn tied behind without -powder, and he was permitted to appear unfettered by -irons. Among other requests he asked for a private -room at Tothill Fields Prison, as he objected to herd -with common pickpockets, and he desired also to be -sent as soon as possible to Newgate. Although his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span> -wishes were not granted, the solicitor for his bankruptcy -made him an allowance of a guinea a week.</p> - -<p>Most pathetic was the loyalty of the wife and -benefactress whom he had used so cruelly. The poor -woman, who was the mother of two children, travelled -from Devonshire—a journey occupying a couple of days -and a night—to spend Christmas Day in prison with -her unfaithful husband. Numerous celebrities visited the -court during the examination of the impostor. Amongst -those who were noticed more than once was the Duke -of Cumberland, drawn possibly by a fellow-feeling for -the culprit, and Monk Lewis, on the look-out for fresh -melodrama. At last all the charges against him were -proved to the hilt—his offence against the law of bankruptcy, -his repeated frauds on the Post Office, the two -bills of exchange forged at Keswick. Still, although the -iniquities of his past were fully revealed, and although -a shoal of unpaid debts, fraudulently contracted, stood -against his name, one circumstance alone was responsible -for the great popular interest, and aroused also universal -abhorrence. John Hadfield had been damned to everlasting -fame as the seducer of Mary of Buttermere.</p> - -<p>The extent of his baseness was disclosed in the course -of the proceedings at Bow Street. It was found that -the poor girl was destined to become the mother of his -child, and that he was in debt to her father for a sum -of £180. Indeed, the motive of his mock marriage -became apparent, for he had endeavoured to persuade -the trusting parents to allow him to sell the -little inn on their behalf, and possibly, but for the -interference of Justice Hardinge, he might have -succeeded. Mary refused to prosecute him for bigamy, -but she was induced to send a letter to Sir Richard -Ford, which was read in court at Hadfield’s fourth -examination.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” she wrote, in the first agony of her cruel -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span> -disenchantment, “the man whom I had the misfortune -to marry, and who has ruined me and my aged and -unhappy parents, always told me that he was the -Honourable Colonel Hope, the next brother to the -Earl of Hopetoun.”</p> - -<p>Contemporary newspapers show that the Beauty of -Buttermere became the heroine of the hour—she was -the theme of ballads in the streets; her sad story was -upon every lip; never was there so much sympathy for -one of her humble birth.</p> - -<p>Early in the new year, Hadfield, who received as -much notice from the journals as Madame Récamier’s -wonderful new bed, was committed to Newgate. With -cool effrontery he dictated a letter to the press, asking the -public to reserve judgment until his case was heard, and, -as a wanton Tory newspaper declared, like Mr Fox and -Mr Windham, he complained bitterly of misrepresentation. -A long interval elapsed before he was sent north to -stand his trial, and he did not reach Carlisle Gaol until the -25th of May, whither he was conveyed by an officer from -Bow Street, who bore the appropriate name of Rivett.</p> - -<p>At the next assizes, on the 15th of August, he was -arraigned before Sir Alexander Thomson, nicknamed -the ‘Staymaker’ owing to his habit of checking voluble -witnesses—a figure to be held in dread by law-breakers -of the northern counties, as the Luddite riots in a few -years were to show. Hadfield was not lucky in his -judge, for the man who, at a later date, could be harsh -enough to consign to the hangman the poor little cripple -boy Abraham Charlson, was not likely to extend mercy -to a forger.</p> - -<p>The prisoner stood charged upon three indictments:—</p> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) With having drawn a bill of exchange upon John -Gregory Crump for the sum of £20, under the false and -fictitious name of the Hon. Alexander Augustus Hope.</p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) With having forged a bill of exchange for £30, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span> -drawn upon John Gregory Crump, and payable to -Colonel Nathaniel Montgomery Moore.</p> - -<p>(<i>c</i>) With having defrauded the Post Office by franking -letters as a member of Parliament.</p> - -<p>Only the first two were capital offences.</p> - -<p>James Scarlett, afterwards Baron Abinger, was counsel -for the Crown, and Hadfield was defended by George -Holroyd, who, as a judge, displayed masterly strength -fourteen years later in directing the acquittal of Abraham -Thornton. It is recorded by some aggrieved journalist -that the crowd was so great it was difficult to take -notes. Such odium had been aroused against the betrayer -by the sad story of Mary of Buttermere, that ladies and -gentlemen are said to have travelled twenty miles to be -present at his condemnation. At eleven o’clock in the -morning the prisoner was placed in the dock. The -principal witnesses for the Crown were George Wood, -landlord of the ‘Queen’s Head’ Keswick; the Rev. -John Nicholson; and good-natured Mr Crump, who -proved conclusively that he had assumed a false name -and had forged a bill of exchange. A clerk in the house -of Heathfield, Lardner and Co. (late Dennis), of Tiverton, -called Quick, and a Colonel Parke, a friend of the -real Colonel Alexander Hope, supplied other necessary -evidence. One witness only—a lawyer named Newton, -who had been employed by Hadfield in the summer of -1800 to recover an estate worth £100 a year, which -he had inherited from his late wife—was summoned by -the defence.</p> - -<p>The prisoner bore himself in a calm and dignified -manner, taking copious notes, and offering suggestions -to his counsel. But his speech to the jury—for still, and -for many years afterwards, a barrister was not allowed to -address the court on behalf of his client, except on some -technical point of law—shows that he anticipated his -doom. “I feel some degree of satisfaction,” he declared, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span> -“in having my sufferings terminated, as I know they -must be, by your verdict. For the space of nine months -I have been dragged from prison to prison, and torn -from place to place, subject to all the misrepresentation -of calumny. Whatever will be my fate, I am content. -It is the award of justice, impartially and virtuously administered. -But I will solemnly declare that in all transactions -I never intended to defraud or injure those persons -whose names have appeared in the prosecution. This I -will maintain to the last of my life.”</p> - -<p>Very properly the judge would not accept the plea -set up by the defence, that the financial position of the -prisoner was a guarantee that no fraud had been -meditated. At seven o’clock in the evening, after a -consultation of ten minutes, the jury returned a verdict -of guilty. Hadfield received the announcement with -composure, and when he was brought up for sentence -the next day—as was the barbarous custom of those -times—he displayed equal coolness. Kneeling down, -and looking steadily at the judge—who began to roll -out a stream of sonorous platitudes—he did not speak -a word.</p> - -<p>From the first he seems to have been resigned to -his fate, and gave no trouble to his gaolers, but spent -his time quietly in writing letters and reading the Bible. -Indeed, his whole behaviour was that of one utterly -weary of existence, and he does not appear to have -desired or expected a reprieve. All his life he had -posed as a religious man, and he lent an eager ear to the -ministrations of two local clergymen who attended him. -Since there is no evidence that he was penitent, we -may adopt the more rational supposition that he was -playing for popular sympathy. It was seldom that he -spoke of himself, and the only reference he made to his -own case was that he had never sought to defraud -either John Crump or Colonel Moore. A contemporary -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span> -report states that “he was in considerable distress -before he received a supply of money from his father. -Afterwards he lived in great style, frequently making -presents to his fellow-felons. In the gaol he was -considered as a kind of emperor, being allowed to do -what he pleased, and no one took offence at the air of -superiority which he assumed.” Some days before his -death he sent for an undertaker to measure him for a -coffin, and gave his instructions to the man without any -signs of agitation.</p> - -<p>On the day of his sentence, Wordsworth and Coleridge, -who were passing through Carlisle, sought an interview -with him. While he received the former, as he received -all who wished to see him, he denied himself to -Coleridge, which makes it clear that he had read and -resented the articles written by the latter to the -<i>Morning Post</i>. Neither his father (said to have been -an honest man in a small way of business) nor his -sisters visited him. Also his faithful wife, since probably -the state of her health or her poverty would not -allow her to make the long journey from Devonshire -to Carlisle, was unable to bid him farewell.</p> - -<p>There has been much idle gossip concerning the -conduct of Mary of Buttermere after her betrayer was -condemned to die. Some have said that she was overwhelmed -with grief, that she supplied him with money -to make his prison life more comfortable, and that she -was dissuaded with difficulty from coming to see him. -Without accepting the alternative suggested, among -others, by De Quincey, that she was quite indifferent to -his fate, there are reasons for rejecting the other suppositions. -It is impossible that the most amiable of -women would continue to love a man who had shown -so little affection towards her, and whose hard heart did -not shrink from crowning her betrayal by the ruin of -her parents. The story of the gift of money, also, seems -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span> -unlikely, as her father had been impoverished by the -swindler, and the fund for his relief, raised by a subscription -in London—which did not receive too generous -support—had not yet been sent to Buttermere. And, -finally—alas! for romance—since the moral code even of -the dawn of the nineteenth century did not allow Mary -Robinson to usurp the duties, more than the name, -of wife to the prisoner, it is incredible that a modest -woman would wish to renew the memories of her unhallowed -union by an interview with the man whose -association with her had brought only dishonour.</p> - -<p>The execution of John Hadfield took place on Saturday, -the 3rd of September. Rising at six, he spent half an -hour in the prison chapel. At ten o’clock his fetters -were removed, and he was occupied most of the morning -in prayer with the two clergymen, who, we are told, -drank coffee with him. The authorities do not seem to -have had any fear that he would attempt his life, for -they allowed him the use of a razor. About the hour -of three he made a hearty meal, at which his gaoler kept -him company. In those times there was a tradition in -Carlisle that a reprieve had once arrived in the afternoon -for a criminal who was hanged in the morning. -Thus, nearly three weeks had been allowed to elapse -between Hadfield’s trial and execution—in order that -there might be plenty of time for a communication from -London—and even on the last day the fatal hour was -postponed until the mail from the south was delivered.</p> - -<p>Although it had been the opinion of the town that he -would not suffer the extreme penalty, the Saturday post, -which arrived early in the afternoon, brought no pardon. -At half-past three he was taken to the turnkey’s lodge, -where he was pinioned, his bonds being tied loosely at -his request. Here he showed a great desire to see the -executioner—who, oddly enough, hailed from Dumfries, -the town which the real Colonel Hope had represented in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span> -Parliament—and gave him half a crown, the only money -he possessed. It was four o’clock when the procession -started from the prison, in the midst of an immense concourse -of spectators. Hadfield occupied a post-chaise, -ordered from a local inn, and a body of yeomanry surrounded -the carriage. Without avail he petitioned for -the windows to be closed. The gallows—two posts fixed -in the ground, about six feet apart, with a bar laid across -them—had been erected during the previous night on an -island, known locally as the Sands, formed by the river -Eden on the south side of the town beyond the Scotch -gate, and between the two bridges. A small dung-cart, -boarded over, stood beneath the cross-bar, Tyburn -fashion, in lieu of the new drop. As soon as it met his -eyes, the condemned man asked if this was where he was -to die, and upon being answered in the affirmative, he -exclaimed, “Oh, happy sight! I see it with pleasure!”</p> - -<p>John Hadfield met his fate with the heroism which -great criminals invariably exhibit. Aged since his arrest, -for he had been in prison nearly ten months, he looked -at least fifty. In every respect he had become very -different from the sprightly ‘Colonel Hope’ of the previous -summer. When he alighted from the carriage -at the shambles he seemed faint and exhausted, but this -weakness was due to physical infirmity and not to fear. -A feeble and piteous smile occasionally played over -his white face. Yet none of the arrogance of pseudo-martyrdom -marked his bearing, but his quiet resignation -and reverent aspect won the pity of the vast crowd, -bitterly hostile to him a short while before. It was -remarked that he had still an air of distinction, and was -neatly dressed; his jacket and silk waistcoat were black, -and he wore fustian breeches and white thread stockings. -Just before he was turned off he was heard to murmur, -“My spirit is strong, though my body is weak.” We are -told that he seemed to die in a moment without any -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span> -struggle, and did not even raise his hands. An hour -and a half later he was lying in a grave in St Mary’s -Churchyard, for his request that he should be buried at -Burgh-on-Sands was disregarded out of consideration for -the pious memory of Edward I.</p> - -<p>Were it not for his dastardly treatment of the women -who gave him their love, the fate of John Hadfield -would seem hard. He was not hanged for swindling -John Crump out of £50—which indeed the value of his -carriage and its contents, left behind at Keswick, would -have more than cancelled—but for attempting to swindle -him under the fictitious name of Colonel Hope. Thus by -assuming the character of another man he became entangled -in one of the fine-spun meshes of the law, and -was held guilty of an intention to defraud. Our great-grandfathers, -who, with the assistance of Sir Alexander -Thomson, could hang an old woman for stealing a few -potatoes in a bread riot, thought it expedient also to kill -a man who obtained £50 by telling a lie.</p> - -<p>There is much truth in the proposition, which has -been stated with such inaccuracy by De Quincey, that, -but for his heartless conduct to Mary of Buttermere, -John Hadfield might have escaped the gallows. It is -probable that Mr Crump would have been loth to -advertise himself as a credulous dupe, unless he had -thought that it was his duty to give evidence against a -heartless seducer. Parson Nicholson, also, would have -had no reason to depart from the attitude he had taken -up before he was aware that he had officiated at a -bigamous marriage.</p> - -<div id="i_173" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_173.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption large"><span class="smcap">Mary</span> <span class="small">of</span> <span class="smcap">Buttermere</span>.</p> - -<p class="copy script"><i>Sketched from Life July 1800</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Notwithstanding that his career was marked by so -many villainies, John Hadfield is in many respects an -admirable rascal. Setting aside his behaviour towards -women—if that is possible even for a moment—he played -a part which required infinite tact and magnificent -courage. Although occasionally he robbed a man who -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span> -was not rich, yet until the crime of Buttermere such an -occurrence was in the nature of an accident, and was -rather the fault of the wronged one for putting himself -in the path. Like Claude Duval, the Keswick impostor -was in the main merciful towards the impecunious; not -indeed for conscience sake, but because he believed that -his rightful place was among the wealthy. A hunter of -big game, dukes, members of Parliament, and prosperous -merchants were his proper prey! And the man who -could maintain a decent social position for twenty years, -in spite of the heavy handicaps of poverty and lowly -birth, and could compel those whom one of his class -should have met only as a lackey to receive him on -equal terms, was more than a common trickster. An -insatiable love of pleasure robbed him of all foresight -and prudence, or such a consummate liar might have -climbed high. Even as he was—had an earl been his -father—he might have gone down to posterity as one of -the greatest diplomats the world has ever seen.</p> - -<p>The career of Samuel Denmore Hayward, hanged at -the Old Bailey for forgery on the 27th of November -1821, a picture of whom, dancing with ‘a lady of quality’ -ornaments one version of the <i>Newgate Calendar</i>, is -similar to that of the Keswick impostor. Both men seem -to have had culture and address; each was distinguished -for his social ambition, and both were famous for gallantry. -With the exception of James Maclean, illustrious as the -friend of Lady Caroline Petersham and little Miss Ashe, -none of our rogues—not even William Parsons, the -baronet’s son—have been such fine gentlemen.</p> - -<p>Mary Robinson’s child was born early in June 1803, -but did not survive its birth. Who can tell whether she -wept over it; or if the words that came from the lips -of her parents, when they heard of the death of her -betrayer, did not seem a fitting epitaph—“God be -thanked!” To avoid the gaze of curious travellers the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> -unhappy girl was obliged for a period to leave her -native place, and the shadow that had fallen upon her -young life was not lifted for many years. Yet, brighter -days were in store for the Maid of Buttermere. In the -course of time she was wooed and won by a Cumberland -‘statesman’ named Richard Harrison, to whom she was -married at Brigham Church in the May of 1808. Two -of her sons, born at Buttermere, where she resided for a -period after her marriage, died in infancy; but when her -husband took her to his farm at ‘Todcrofts’ Caldbeck, -beyond Skiddaw—where the Harrison family had been -‘statesmen’ for generations—she became the mother of -five more children, three daughters and two sons, all -of whom grew up and married. In later years it was -remarked that her girls were as pretty as Mary had been -herself when she was the Maid of the Inn. There is -reason to believe that the rest of her career was happy -and prosperous, and she lived tranquilly in her home at -‘Todcrofts’ where she died in her fifty-ninth year. The -tombstone records that she passed away on the 7th of -February 1837, while her husband survived her for sixteen -years. Both rest in the churchyard that holds the ashes -of immortal John Peel, who followed Richard Harrison -to ‘the happy hunting-fields’ within a few months.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>(I am indebted to the kindness of Mr Richard -Greenup, of Beckstones, Caldbeck, one of Mary Robinson’s -few surviving grandchildren, for much interesting -information.) -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span></p> - -<h2 id="BIBLIOGRAPHY_OF_THE_HADFIELD_CASE">BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE HADFIELD CASE</h2> - -<h3>I. <span class="smcap">Contemporary Tracts, etc.</span></h3> - -<p>1. <i>Report of the Proceedings on the Trial of John Hatfield</i>, London. Printed for -A. H. Nairne and B. Mace. Sold by Crosby and Company price 6d. 1803. -Brit. Mus.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Although always spoken of as John Hatfield, the proper name of the -‘Keswick Impostor’ if the register of his baptism is an authority, was Hadfield.</p></blockquote> - -<p>2. <i>The Life of Mary Robinson</i>, the celebrated Beauty of Buttermere, Embellished -with an elegant coloured Print. London. Printed by John Rhynd, 21 Ray Street, -Cold Bath Fields. Sold by Crosby and Company, Paternoster Row. Price 1/. -1803. Brit. Mus.</p> - -<p>3. <i>The Life of John Hatfield</i>, Printed and Published by Scott and Benson. -Keswick. James Ivison, Market Place 1846. Brit. Mus.</p> - -<h3>II. <span class="smcap">Contemporary Newspapers and Magazines</span></h3> - -<table> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"> 1.</td> - <td><i>The Times</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">Oct., Nov., Dec. 1802;</td> - <td class="tdc">Jan., Aug., Sept. 1803.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"> 2.</td> - <td><i>The Morning Post</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"> 3.</td> - <td><i>The St James’s Chronicle</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"> 4.</td> - <td><i>The Morning Herald</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"> 5.</td> - <td><i>The Morning Chronicle</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"> 6.</td> - <td><i>The True Briton</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"> 7.</td> - <td><i>Lloyd’s Evening Post</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"> 8.</td> - <td><i>The Carlisle Journal</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"> 9.</td> - <td><i>The Leeds Mercury</i>,</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - <td class="tdc">do.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">10.</td> - <td colspan="3" class="hang"><i>The Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, part ii. 1792, pp. 1114-16; part i. 1800, - p. 18-24; part ii. 1802, pp. 1013, 1062, 1063, 1157; part ii. 1803, - pp. 779, 876, 983.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">11.</td> - <td colspan="3" class="hang"><i>The European Magazine</i>, part ii. 1792, p. 436; part ii. 1802, pp. 316, 477; - part ii. 1803, pp. 157, 242.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><i>Coleridge and the “Morning Post.”</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Three accounts from the pen of Coleridge, which appeared in the <i>Morning -Post</i> of October 11, October 22, and November 5 respectively, under the titles -“Romantic Marriage” and “The Fraudulent Marriage,” find a place in -Coleridge’s “Essays on His Own Times,” edited by his daughter. The late -Mr H. D. Traill, in his monograph in the “English Men of Letters” series, -has pointed out (note, p. 80) that “it is impossible to believe that this collection, -forming as it does but two small volumes, and a portion of a third, is -anything like complete.” It is not an unwarrantable assumption that two -subsequent articles in the <i>Morning Post</i>, which appeared on November 20 and -December 31, were written from Greta Hall, and that Coleridge therefore was -responsible for the sobriquet “The Keswick Impostor.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span></p> - -<p>Sir Alexander Hope, brother of the third Earl Hopetoun, whom Hadfield -impersonated, was not (as stated in the <i>Dic. Nat. Biog.</i>) the second but the -<i>eighth</i> son of the second earl (<i>vide</i> <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, 1837, part ii. p. 423).</p></blockquote> - -<h4><span class="smcap">Notes.</span></h4> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note I.</span>—<i>A Fortnight’s Ramble to the Lakes in Westmorland</i>, Lancashire and -Cumberland.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>This book is reviewed at full length in the <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, December -1792, pt. ii. pp. 1114-16, and in the <i>European Magazine</i>, December 1892, -pt. ii. p. 436. The author, Joseph Budworth, who afterwards adopted his -wife’s surname, Palmer, was a contributor to the former journal. Mary -Robinson is described under the pseudonym ‘Sally of Buttermere’ The -second edition of the <i>Fortnight’s Ramble</i> is reviewed in <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, -vol. lxvi. pt. i. p. 132, February 1796.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note II.</span>—<i>A Revisit to Buttermere.</i> Letter from a rambler to ‘Mr. Urban’ -dated Buttermere, January 2 (<i>vide</i> <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, January 1800, pp. 18-24).</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>This account was inserted in the third edition of <i>A Fortnight’s Ramble</i>, -published in 1810. Joseph Budworth tells us that his second visit to Buttermere -took place in January 1798.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note III.</span>—<i>The Prelude</i>, or Growth of a Poet’s Mind, by Wm. Wordsworth. -Commenced 1799, finished 1805, published 1850. The Centenary edition of the -works of Wm. Wordsworth. Six vols. Edited by E. Moxon, 1870.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Book VII., “Residence in London,” contains the famous reference to Mary -of Buttermere and her story. Describing various dramas he has seen at Sadler’s -Wells Theatre, the poet mentions one written around the story of Mary of -Buttermere. <i>Notes and Queries</i>, Tenth Series, i. pp. 7, 70, 96.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note IV.</span>—<i>The Collected Writings of Thomas De Quincey.</i> Edited by David -Masson. A. & C. Black (1889-90); <i>vide</i> <i>Literary Reminiscences</i>, Samuel Taylor -Coleridge, vol. ii. pp. 138-225.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The description of ‘The Hadfield Affair’ occupies pp. 174-184, and its -numerous errors were the subject of a smart attack by a correspondent in <i>Notes -and Queries</i> (First Series, vol. viii. p. 26), July 9, 1853.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note V.</span>—<i>The Tourist’s New Guide.</i> By William Green. In two volumes. -Kendal (1819), vol. ii. pp. 180-5, 221. <i>Seventy-eight Studies from Nature.</i> By -William Green. Longman (1809) p. 7.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The various descriptions of Mary Robinson are so conflicting that it is -difficult, until one reads the impressions recorded from year to year by Wm. -Green, to form an estimate of her personal appearance. It has been shown -that Joseph Budworth, who first saw her in 1792, when she was fourteen, -raves of her charms, and his second visit to Buttermere six years later did not -disillusionise him. De Quincey, however, denies that she was beautiful, and -does not praise even her figure. Yet he seems to be unconscious that he is -describing, not the world-renowned ‘Maiden of Buttermere’ but a matron of -thirty-five, who was now the wife of a prosperous farmer, and who had drank -deeply of life’s sorrows. Mr Frederick Reed of Hassness, Buttermere, writing in -August 1874 (<i>Notes and Queries</i>, Fifth Series, ii. 175), thirty-seven years after -her death, states that “she was not the beauty she is represented to have been. -She carried herself well, but got to be coarse-featured.” Still, as it is improbable -that Mr Reed saw her till she was past her prime, his criticism is of little value. -Sara Nelson, too, who was born during the year of Mary’s great trouble, did -not meet her till her good looks had vanished. The <i>Morning Post</i> of October -11, 1802, contains the following description from the pen of Coleridge:—“To -beauty in the strict sense of the word she has small pretensions, being rather -gap-toothed and somewhat pock-fretten. But her face is very expressive, and -the expression extremely interesting, and her figure and movements are graceful -to a miracle. She ought indeed to be called the Grace of Buttermere rather -than the Beauty.”</p> - -<p>William Green tells us that he first saw Mary Robinson in 1791, the year -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span> -before she was noticed by Captain Budworth. “At that time,” says he, “she -was thirteen; and to an open, honest, and pleasant-looking face, then in the -bloom of health, was added the promise of a good figure. Her garb, though -neat, was rustic; but through it, even while so young, appeared indications of -that mild dignity which was afterwards so peculiarly attractive.” He saw her -next in 1794. “The infantine prettiness of thirteen was now matured into -beauty; her countenance beamed with an indescribable sweetness, and the -commanding graces of her fine person were equalled only by her innate good -sense and excellent disposition.” After remarking that Captain Budworth’s -panegyric seemed to have had no ill effect upon her mind, he proceeds: “Like -some other mountain rustics, observed by the writer during his residence -amongst these thinly populated wilds, Mary’s beauty was ripened at an early -period; for this was, probably, the period of its perfection.” Green did not -see her again till 1801. “She was then twenty-three, and though greatly -admired for her general appearance and deportment, was on the whole infinitely -less interesting than seven years before that time.” In 1805, the date of his -next visit to Buttermere, he noted a further change. “Her features were pervaded -by a melancholy meekness, but her beauty was fled, and with it, that -peculiar elegance of person, for which she was formerly celebrated.” The next -time the artist saw her was in 1810. “She was no longer the Beauty of -Buttermere, but Mrs. Harrison, the bulky wife of a farmer, blessed with much -good humour, and a ready utterance.” This was about the time when De -Quincey saw her. Gillray’s sketch, November 15, 1802, corroborates Green’s -description.</p> - -<p>The <i>Dictionary of National Biography</i> gives the date of publication of <i>The -Tourist’s Guide</i> as 1822. This is an error. It was published in 1819. The -same monograph does not mention Green’s <i>Survey of Manchester</i>.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note VI.</span>—<i>East Cheshire.</i> By J. P. Earwaker, 1880, vol. ii. p. 136.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Gives the following extract from the register of baptisms at the parish -church of Mottram-in-Longdendale:—</p> - -<p>“1759. May 24, John, son of William Hadfield, and Betty, his Wife.” -The church register confirms this reference.</p> - -<p>John Hadfield’s father, who lived at Crodenbrook or Craddenbrook, -Longden, must have been a man of means, for in 1760 he gave £20 to the poor.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note VII.</span>—<i>Dic. Nat. Biog.</i> This excellent sketch is only marred by the misspelling -of Hadfield’s name, and the error in the date of his birth. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span></p> - -<h2 id="A_FAMOUS_FORGERY">A FAMOUS FORGERY<br /> - -<span class="medium">THE CASE OF HENRY FAUNTLEROY, 1824</span></h2> - -<h3 id="PART_I"><i>Part I.—The Criminal and his Crime.</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Then, list, ingenuous youth....<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And once forego your joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For your 176 -instruction I display<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The life of Fauntleroy.”<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The Dirge of Fauntleroy</i>, <span class="smcap">James Usher</span>, 1824.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>In the year 1792—not one of the least disastrous in -our annals of commerce—a small party of capitalists -established a private bank under the name of Marsh, -Sibbald & Company of Berners Street. The chief -promoters—William Marsh, a naval agent, and James -Sibbald of Sittwood Park, Berkshire, a retired official -of Company John—were gentlemen of substance and -position; while their managing partner, William -Fauntleroy (previously employed at the famous house -of Barclay), was a man of ability and business experience. -Four years later, a younger son of Sir Edward -Stracey, a Norfolk baronet, who married eventually the -niece of Sir James Sibbald, was admitted into the firm.</p> - -<div id="i_178" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_178.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption large"><i>HENRY FAUNTLEROY.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Although never a bank of great resources, it appears -to have made a fair return to its proprietors, and because -of its connection with two baronets—one of whom -became Sheriff of his county—it was regarded as a -house of repute. In the spring of 1807 the firm received -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span> -a severe blow through the death, when only in -his fifty-eighth year, of the active partner, William -Fauntleroy, in whom his colleagues placed implicit trust. -Luckily, however, it was possible to fill his place, for his -second son Henry, who had been employed as a clerk for -seven years, although only twenty-two, was fit and eager -for the post. None of the members of the firm were able -to devote much attention to their bank, and thus, by a -strange chance, the sole control was left in the hands of -young Fauntleroy.</p> - -<p>A remarkable man in every respect, this youthful -manager, who carried with ease the burden of a great -business on his shoulders. During the second decade -of last century no figure was better known to those -familiar with the west end of Oxford Street. Neat and -elegant as Brummell, grave and industrious as Henry -Addington, he seemed a model for all young men of -commerce. Each morning at the same hour, the front -door of No. 7 Berners Street, where he lived with his -mother and sister, was thrown open, and the banker -would step briskly into the adjoining premises—the -counting-house of Messrs Marsh, Stracey, Fauntleroy -& Graham. For he was a partner, also, as well as -absolute manager, this solemn young gentleman whose -air of ponderous respectability won the confidence -of all.</p> - -<p>At first sight, his cleanly-chiselled features seemed -to express merely gentleness and simplicity, but a -second glance would reveal a picture of resolution and -strength. In fact, the massive brow, the broad cheekbones, -and the firm, bold contour of the chin suggested -a strange likeness—one that he sought to emphasise by -the close-cropped hair made to droop over his forehead. -It was his foible, this belief that he bore a resemblance -to the great Buonaparte—whose bust adorned his mantelpiece—and -the final catastrophe that overwhelmed him -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span> -should discourage any latter-day egoist who prides himself -upon a similar likeness.</p> - -<p>Springing from an industrious Nonconformist stock -(for his father had been the architect of his own fortunes, -while his elder brother William, who fell a victim to -consumption at an early age, was a youth full of the -promise of genius), the temperament of Henry Fauntleroy -appears to have been as complex a piece of mechanism -as Nature ever enclosed within a human tenement. The -love of toil, and an indomitable perseverance, seemed to -be the guiding principles of his life. Not only did his -fine courage never waver amidst the terrors of the -financial tempest, through which he stood at the helm -of his frail bark, but he gave no sign to his colleagues -of the misgivings that must have lurked within his mind. -For commerce had fallen upon evil days. On every -side he beheld the crash and wreckage of his fellows, -but, inspired by the confidence which only the knowledge -of power can bestow, he resolved to continue his struggle -against the storm. With a brain capable of grappling -with huge balance-sheets, an almost superhuman dexterity -in figures being his natural gift, the work of three men -was the daily task of this Napoleon of commerce. -Although the members of his firm were compelled -to dive deeply into their pockets during these hazardous -years, to meet losses occasioned by the failure of clients -engaged in building speculations, the Berners Street -Bank was handled so skilfully that it managed to -weather the storm.</p> - -<p>In spite of his vast abilities, there was nothing of -bombast in Fauntleroy’s nature, nor did external evidence -show that he was engaged in deadly warfare against the -unpropitious fates. A gentle, unassuming man, with a -quiet charm of address, he won universal regard from -all with whom he came into contact. The gift of friendship, -the infectious knack of social intercourse, was part -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span> -of his character. Naturally, the circle in which he -moved was composed of persons of refinement and, -in some cases, of eminence in the commercial world. -While his hand was ever open to the cry of distress, -his board always had a place for those who had gained -his esteem. All the leisure he could snatch seemed -devoted to simple pleasures—a choice little dinner to -a few kindred spirits, a holiday at his suburban -villa, or a week-end visit to his house in Brighton. -Though his earnest, florid face might be seen often -beneath the hood of his smart cabriolet, this carriage -was used principally in journeys between Berners Street -and the City. In short, few business men in London -were held in greater respect than this hard-working -young banker, who was so like the Emperor Napoleon.</p> - -<p>Yet there was another side to the picture. Although -ostensibly he lived this simple and strenuous existence, -a few bosom companions knew him in another guise. -Unknown to the world, those week-end parties at his -villa in the suburbs were tainted and ungodly. The -sweet girl who sat at the head of his table as mistress -of his home had lost her maiden innocence while her -fresh young beauty was in its bud, lured by the sensuous -Fauntleroy almost from school. All her pretty friends -belonged to the same frail sisterhood, Cyprians beyond -question, though modest perhaps in demeanour and -speech. And with these ‘Kates and Sues’ of the -town came Fauntleroy’s intimates, ‘Toms and Jerries’ -unmistakably, though possibly only in travesty, becoming -sober men once more in business hours.</p> - -<p>Or one might have seen him driving past the fetid -Pavilion at Brighton in his smart carriage, with its -fawn-coloured lining, and have recognised in the shameless -features of the flashy lady at his side the notorious -‘Corinthian Kate’ herself—in real life Mrs ‘Bang’ -most ‘slap-up of ladybirds’ Then, again, at his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span> -luxurious seaside home in Western Place, with its -conservatories and sumptuous billiard-room-draped as -a facsimile of Napoleon’s travelling tent—his Kate’s dear -friend Harriet Wilson, or other illustrious fair ones, -would come to amuse his bachelor companions. Thus, -in his leisure moments, the industrious Fauntleroy -enjoyed secretly the life of an epicure and sensualist. -Deep-buried in his soul the love of vice was ever -present. “There only needed one thing to complete -your equipage,” he writes, in plain <i>double entente</i> that -indicates his ruling passion, to his friend Sheriff Parkins, -“instead of the man at your side, a beautiful angel!”</p> - -<p>Marriage had meant no sowing of wild oats to Henry -Fauntleroy. A mystery surrounds his union to the -daughter of a naval captain named John Young. It -is known only that, although a son was born, the match -from the first was an unhappy one, and an early separation -took place. During the year of Waterloo a liaison -with a married lady, who had a complacent or shortsighted -husband, increased the habits of extravagance -which in the end brought the banker to ruin. Later, -the pretty young girl Maria Fox, who had been educated -at a convent in France, consented to become the mistress -of his suburban home. Thus the double life continued; -while to those who knew him only in Berners Street, -Mr Fauntleroy appeared the most righteous and -respectable of men.</p> - -<p>What was the nominal income of the young bank -manager it is impossible to ascertain; but whatever the -sum, it is certain that before very long his expenditure -began to exceed his means. Probably he took the first -step on his downward march during the year of the -hejira to Elba. The strength and weakness of his -character combined to make the position of Tantalus -unendurable. Nothing seemed more certain than that -the Berners Street house, which had never recovered -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span> -from its unfortunate speculations, would return large -profits if its capital was sufficient to meet all claims. -Thus Fauntleroy decided not to take his colleagues -into his confidence. Such a step would have caused -the business to be wound up, and he would have lost -his handsome salary. As one of his most severe critics -has pointed out, “he had not enough moral courage to -face the world in honest, brave poverty.” On the contrary, -his courage took another form. Confident that -he must conquer evil fortune, the self-reliant man -resolved to commence a life-and-death battle with fate, -alone and unaided. And his choice was the frightful -expedient of forgery!</p> - -<p>The methods of Fauntleroy were of unparalleled -audacity. Then, as now, clients were in the habit of -placing the certificates of their securities in the hands -of their bankers for safe custody. So, by boldly forging -the signature of the proprietor upon a power of -attorney, he was able to sell any particular investment -that he desired. Naturally, his depredations were confined -to Government securities—Consols, Long Annuities, -Exchequer Bills—and thus in effecting the -fraudulent transfers his negotiations were with the -Bank of England. For a period of almost ten years -this incomparable swindler maintained the credit of -his house in this manner, selling stocks belonging to -his clients to the value of hundreds of thousands of -pounds. As the proprietors received their dividends -as regularly as ever—for Fauntleroy took care that -their pass-books were credited with the half-yearly -payments—they never knew that their investments had -been abstracted. On the death of an owner the stolen -stock was replaced, and thus the trustees were unaware -of the theft. So the frauds went on, each forgery -being shrouded by another, until the total deficit of -the Berners Street Bank exceeded half a million! -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span></p> - -<p>Narrow escapes were inevitable. On one occasion -he was handing over a power of attorney for the -transfer of stock to one of the clerks in the Consols -Office at the Bank of England, when the person whose -name he had forged entered the room. Yet Fauntleroy’s -<i>aplomb</i> did not fail him. As soon as he perceived -the new-comer, he requested the clerk to return the -document, with the excuse that he wished to correct -an omission. Then, having secured the paper, he -went to greet the friend whom he was about to rob, -and they strolled out of the bank together. Another -day, one of his lady clients instructed a London broker -to sell some stock for her. Finding no such investment -registered in her name, the man called at Berners Street -to make inquiries. To his surprise the plausible banker -informed him that the lady had already desired him -to effect the sale. “And here,” continued the smiling -Fauntleroy, producing a number of Exchequer bills, -“are the proceeds.” Although his customer protested -that she had never authorised the transaction, the matter -was allowed to drop. While a friend was chatting -in his private office he is said to have been imitating -his signature, which he took out to the counting-house -before his companion had departed. One of the last -occasions when he visited the Bank of England was on -the 5th of January, the day on which Thurtell and Hunt -were tried for the Gillshill murder. While the clerk -was crediting the dividend warrants due to his firm, the -banker conversed about the crime. It was noted as a -strange coincidence that the same clerk was one of the -witnesses against him.</p> - -<p>One day in September 1824, Mr J. D. Hulme, an -official of the Custom House, wishing to examine a list -of investments belonging to an estate of which he had -become a trustee, paid a visit to the Bank of England. -To his amazement he found that a sum of £10,000 in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span> -Consols was missing, and inquiry proved that the stock -had been sold by the Berners Street manager under a -power of attorney. On the advice of Mr Freshfield, -solicitor of the bank, an application was made to Mr -Conant of Marlborough Street, who was induced to -grant a warrant for the arrest of the suspected man. -At last the wily Fauntleroy had been caught napping; -for although he was aware that there was a risk of -exposure, and had made preparations to reinvest the -stolen Consols, he had not yet been able to complete -the transaction.</p> - -<p>During the whole of Thursday night, Samuel Plank, -chief-officer of Marlborough Street, finding that the -banker was away from home, paraded Berners Street -watching for his return. On the next morning, the 10th -of September, at his usual hour, the grave, neatly dressed -forger walked into his place of business. A mean trick -marked the arrest. Mr Goodchild, the other co-trustee -of the plundered estate, entered the counting-house a few -moments before Plank, and proceeded into the private -office, while the constable, pretending to cash a cheque, -remained at the counter. When through the half-closed -door of the inner room he saw that the victim and decoy -were closeted together, the police-officer pushed past the -astonished clerks, explaining that he wanted to speak -to their employer. As Fauntleroy raised his eyes from -his desk, and saw a warrant in the intruder’s hand, he -realised that the visit of his friend was merely a device -to place him in the hand of the law.</p> - -<p>“Good God!” exclaimed the doomed man. “Cannot -this business be settled?”</p> - -<p>And tradition relates that he offered Plank a bribe of -ten thousand pounds to allow him to escape. But the -officer proved incorruptible, and soon the banker was -standing in the presence of his astonished friend, -Magistrate John Conant, who, though sore distressed, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span> -was compelled to commit him to Coldbath Fields -prison.</p> - -<p>“I alone am guilty,” cried the wretched Fauntleroy, -in a burst of penitence. “My colleagues did not -know!”</p> - -<p>Like the great model whom he had striven to emulate, -the vain man had found his Moscow. No longer was -he the dandy banker of Berners Street, whose friendship -had been sought by so many rich men from the City. -The days of the lavish Corinthian, the associate of -‘bang-up pinks and bloods’ had passed away for ever, -and he had become a criminal, standing beneath the -shadow of the gallows!</p> - -<p>While Mr Freshfield, with the aid of the constable, -proceeded to execute his right of search, the members -of the firm were summoned to town. At first the -catastrophe was not appreciated to the full extent. On -the following morning the bank opened its doors, and -customers paid and drew their cheques as usual. -However, before the close of the day the proprietors -sent an announcement to the press that “in consequence -of the extraordinary conduct of their partner,” they had -determined for the present to suspend payment.</p> - -<p>During the whole of Monday, the 13th of September, -an excited throng took possession of Berners Street—neighbouring -tradesmen trembling for their deposits; -men from the City dismayed by the wildest rumours. -A force of police was deemed necessary to prevent -a riot. “Arrest of Mr Fauntleroy, the well-known -banker!” The amazing tidings was upon every lip. -A similar sensation had not been experienced in the -memory of man. Since the days of Dr Dodd, half a -century before, none so high in the social scale had been -accused of such a crime. All the week, panic reigned in -business houses. It was whispered that the defalcations -would reach half a million pounds: that the greatest -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span> -commercial scandal of the age would be disclosed. -One day, it was said that Fauntleroy had arranged a -plan of escape; on another, that he had cut his throat -with a razor.</p> - -<p>In the presence of a crowd of his creditors, the forger—crushed, -despairing, overwhelmed with the deepest -shame—was brought up for his first examination at -Marlborough Street on the following Saturday. Although -not more than forty, his hair, prematurely grey, -made him look much older. During ten long years of -torture the slow fires of suspense must have burnt deep -into his soul, and the reality of this fatal hour would -seem less cruel than the dreaded expectation. One -observer states that “his expression is of pure John -Bull good-nature”; another declares that he had “a -mild Roman contour of visage”; while his dress was -the inevitable blue tail-coat and trousers, with half-boots -and a light-coloured waistcoat—the morning attire -of all gentlemen of the period from Lord Alvanley and -Ball Hughes down to Corinthian Tom.</p> - -<p>On the Friday week following his first examination, -the forger stood once more in the dock at Marlborough -Street. Two maiden ladies, Miss Frances and Miss -Elizabeth Young, whose small fortune had been stolen, -gave testimony against the prisoner. Pained to see -the man whom they had honoured and trusted in this -terrible position, the tender-hearted women were tearful -and distressed. Since the maiden name of Mrs Henry -Fauntleroy was the same as theirs, rumour leapt to the -conclusion that these witnesses were the sisters of the -prisoner’s wife. When the unfortunate banker was seen -to flush deeply as Miss Young appeared in the witness-box, -the error was confirmed.</p> - -<p>It was not until the 19th of October that the accused -went through his third and last examination. Although -well-groomed and immaculate as ever, he was a mere -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span> -shadow of the placid, inscrutable man of business who had -borne his guilty secret so boldly and so long. There was -“rather a ghastly than a living hue upon his countenance,” -remarks the stylist who reports for <i>The Times</i>. -All the necessary charges being proved, he was committed -to Newgate, his removal being postponed until -Thursday, the 21st of October, on the application of -his solicitor.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the London press had revelled in the -case. Scarcely a day passed without a reference to the -forger or to the forgery, and there was the greatest strife -among the various newspapers to secure the most lurid -reports. Many times we have the amusing spectacle of -two journals belabouring each other like the envious -editors in <i>Pickwick</i>. Even the recent crime of John -Thurtell—for in this wonderful fourth year of his -Gracious Majesty King George IV. the lucky public -was satiated with melodrama, while Jemmy Catnach’s -pockets were overflowing with gold—did not offer such -chances of sensational reports. It was announced to -an amazed public that Fauntleroy had squandered -the proceeds of his forgeries in riot and dissipation. -One-half of his private life was disclosed to public ears; -and though some of the newspapers were merciful, -just as others were hostile to the prisoner, one and -all, with very few exceptions, probed deep into his -murky past.</p> - -<p>Happily, there is no evidence to justify the supposition -that the partners in the Berners Street bank—and in -particular Mr J. H. Stracey, who thirty years later -succeeded to the baronetcy held in turn by his father -and his two brothers—were responsible for the dastardly -attacks upon the defenceless man. Even had he given -no public denial to the charge, such an assumption is -impossible in the case of an honourable man like the late -Sir Josias Stracey. Moreover, the identity of the person -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span> -who inspired the disgraceful accounts in <i>The Times</i> and -other journals is easy to discern.</p> - -<p>This spiteful enemy bursts upon the stage of the sad -tragedy of Fauntleroy like the comic villain of melodrama—too -contemptible to hate, but with a humour too -crapulous for whole-hearted laughter. Joseph Wilfred -Parkins—elected Sheriff of London on the 24th of June -1819—appears to have been one of the most blatant -humbugs that ever belonged to the objectionable family of -Bumble. Tradition relates that he was the son of a -blacksmith who lived on the borders of Inglewood Forest -in Cumberland; but Parkins, too proud to know from -whence he came, preferred to pass as a bastard of the -Duke of Norfolk. In his early youth, we are told that -“he was apprenticed to a breeches-maker in Carlisle, -but his dexterity as a workman not being commensurate -with his powers of digestion, a separation took place.” -Afterwards he sailed to Calcutta, where, assisted by -letters of introduction from his patron the Duke, -he established a lucrative business. In other ways, -according to account, he was a success in India, where -he became famous for hunting tigers with English greyhounds, -and once shot a coolie for disobeying his orders, -two miles and a half distant, right through the head, -across the Ganges, and through an impenetrable jungle! -On another occasion he claimed to have ridden stark -naked in mid-day, on a barebacked horse without bridle, -fifty miles in six hours, for a wager, and to have trotted -back for pleasure without even a drink of water. When -he returned to his native land with the treasures of the -East, it was inevitable that such a man should win -notoriety. Having failed to gain the affections of Queen -Caroline, who preferred Alderman Wood for a beau, he -devoted himself to Olive Serres, ‘Princess of Cumberland’ -and became her champion and literary collaborator. -One of the achievements on which he most prided -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span> -himself was the refusal to marry a daughter of Lord -Sidmouth, who was most eager to become his father-in-law. -Sometimes we behold him fawning upon Lord -Mayor Waithman and Orator Hunt. At others, no one -excels him in hurling abuse at these same celebrities. -During a portion of his career a charmer named -Hannah White caused him much trouble. Probably -he enjoys the unique honour of being the only Sheriff -of London upon whom the Court of Common Council -has passed a vote of censure for his conduct while -in office.</p> - -<p>For some years this great Parkins was a familiar -friend of Henry Fauntleroy. “I have been looking out -for you in town these three or four days,” the banker -writes to him in May 1816, “as we have a dance this -evening, and lots of pretty girls, and I know you are an -admirer of them.” However, just after the arrest, the -ex-Sheriff suspected his former associate unjustly of a -breach of faith, and thus became his most deadly enemy, -placing his intimate knowledge of his friend’s habits at -the service of the hostile press. In order to exhibit the -bankers depravity, he published a communication from -the fair but frail Corinthian Kate, known in real life -as ‘Mother Bang’ but the context chiefly serves to -indicate that Parkins treasured a grudge because his -friend had never introduced him to the lady. Even -after the criminal had received sentence his animosity did -not cease. “The penalty for forgery should be the -gallows,” he declared at a meeting of the Berners Street -creditors, “until the law discovered a worse punishment.” -When the only son of the condemned man, a youth of -fifteen, wrote to the papers, pleading that mercy should -be shown to his father, the vindictive ex-Sheriff declared -in the columns of the <i>Morning Chronicle</i> (as it proved, -falsely) that the boy was not the author of the appeal. -Nor did he scruple to print private letters from Mrs -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span> -Fauntleroy to her husband in order to show that she was -an ill-used wife.</p> - -<p>Great indulgence was shown to the banker—for a -forger always was treated with lenience—during his term -of imprisonment at the Old Bailey. The same consideration—which -aroused the ire of Parkins to boiling point—had -been paid to him while he was under the care -of Mr Vickery, ex-Bow Street runner, at that time -the Governor of Coldbath Fields bridewell. On this -account there arose a very pretty quarrel, at which, of -course, the newspapers assisted, between John Edward -Conant of Marlborough Street and an elderly magistrate -of Hammersmith named John Hanson. The latter -was accused of intruding into Fauntleroy’s room at the -House of Correction, when the following conversation -is said to have taken place:</p> - -<p>“You are the banker from Berners Street, aren’t -you?” demanded the visitor.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am that unfortunate person, sir,” answered -the prisoner.</p> - -<p>“Oh, then you’d better look to your soul,” was the -reply. “Look to your Bible. Read your Bible.”</p> - -<p>Although poor old Hanson, who was struck off the -list of visiting justices in consequence of his officiousness, -made many earnest protests that he had been misrepresented, -and although Fauntleroy acquitted him of all -intent to offend, it would appear that his observations -were superfluous, whatever their precise form.</p> - -<p>At Newgate the kind-hearted Mr Wontner—keeper -of the gaol from 1822 till his premature death at the age -of fifty in 1833—allowed the unfortunate banker every -privilege that lay in his power. Thus his prison was no -gloomy dungeon, but a large and well-furnished room, -occupied by a turnkey named Harris, who removed into -an adjacent apartment, and who, together with his wife, -watched over and attended to the wants of his charge. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span> -Convinced that his case was hopeless, it is said that -Fauntleroy resolved to plead guilty; but, urged by his -friends, and by his solicitors, Messrs Forbes & Harmer, -he was induced at last to abandon the intention.</p> - -<p>James Harmer, who conducted his defence, was the -great criminal lawyer of his day—a prototype of Mr -Jaggers—the prince of Old Bailey attorneys. Among -his clients were such diametrically opposite characters as -Joseph Hunt of Gillshill fame, and lusty Sam Bamford -of Middleton. The incidents of Mr Fauntleroy’s case -offered many opportunities for his versatile talents; and -although he failed to teach good manners to <i>The Times</i> -newspaper, he did much service to his age, by means -of a side issue, in getting Joseph Parkins indicted for -perjury. Yet the greatest abilities could do little to -extenuate the Berners Street forgeries. Still, whether or -not he had a weakness for scented soap, Harmer never -fought in kid gloves, as the unfortunate Messrs Marsh, -Stracey, & Graham—whom he was compelled to damage -in the interests of the man he defended—found to their -cost. Those inclined to accuse Charles Dickens of -exaggeration should bear in mind that murderer Hunt, -who chose Jaggers Harmer as his solicitor, escaped the -hangman’s rope, while Thurtell, who employed another -lawyer, was handed over to Thomas Cheshire.</p> - -<p>The trial of Fauntleroy on Saturday, the 30th of -October, did not attract the mob of respectables that -officialdom had anticipated. A guinea entrance-fee -proved prohibitive. Press and law students alone -furnished their crowds, and the private galleries were -patronised but poorly. Joseph Parkins, eager to witness -the humiliation of the man whom he had chosen to -regard as an enemy, was an early arrival, taking his -place at the barristers’ table in front of the dock, where, -in full view of the prisoner, he could gloat over his misery. -Luckily, Sheriff Brown, whose humanity—like that of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span> -his colleague John Key—was in advance of the age, witnessed -the manœuvre, and, appreciating the motive of -the truculent nabob, sent an officer of the court to tell -him that his seat was engaged. Parkins, whose fierce -eyes, glaring from beneath bushy, overhanging brows, -seemed to inflame his combative features and fiery locks, -turned in outraged dignity upon the official.</p> - -<div id="i_192" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_192.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption script"><i>James Harmer, Esq<sup>r</sup>.</i><br /> -<i>Solicitor.</i></p> - -<p class="caption medium script"><i>Engraved by T. Wright from a Drawing by A. Wivell.</i></p> - -<p class="copy script"><i>London, Published August 1<sup>st</sup>, 1820, by A. WIVELL, 105, Great Titchfield Street.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>“Do you know to whom you speak, sir?” he -articulated.</p> - -<p>“Know you?” was the reply. “To be sure I do. -Come, be off!”</p> - -<p>So the ‘XXX Sheriff’ was forced to make his exit -by climbing ignominiously over seats and benches, to -the infinite mirth and advantage of the gentlemen of -the press.</p> - -<p>At ten o’clock Justice Park and Baron Garrow come -into court, followed by the Attorney-General, the great -Sir John Copley, soon to be Lord Lyndhurst, who, -instructed by Mr Freshfield, solicitor to the bank, has -charge of the prosecution. John Gurney, afterwards a -judge, who, like Scarlett and Adolphus, is one of the -great criminal barristers of his day, defends the prisoner. -The buzz of many voices is hushed into silence as -Fauntleroy is placed at the bar. Jaggers Harmer -accompanies him. For a moment he is dazzled by the -glare from the inverted mirror above the dock. Making -a feeble attempt to bow to his judges, he almost falls back -into the arms of the attendants. With closed eyes and -bent head, shrinking from the universal gaze, he stands -with trembling fingers resting on the bar—a picture of -unutterable shame. Thin and worn are his features, -and his face is pale as death, while his hair, thrown into -contrast by his full suit of black, has become white as -though sprinkled with powder.</p> - -<p>The Attorney-General proceeds with the first indictment, -that which charges the prisoner with transferring -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span> -under a forged deed £5450 Three per cent. Consols, -belonging to Miss Frances Young. During the speech -there comes a disclosure amazing to everyone in court -save the man in the dock and those who defend him. -In a private box found at Berners Street after his arrest, -a document has been discovered containing a list of -stolen securities. Upon this paper, written and signed -by the hand of Fauntleroy, and dated the 7th of May -1816, are these words, which, as Sir John Copley reads -them, bewilder all his hearers:—</p> - -<p>“In order to keep up the credit of our house I have -forged powers of attorney, and have thereupon sold out -all these sums, without the knowledge of my partners. -I have given credit in the accounts for the interest -when it became due. The Bank (of England) began -first to refuse our acceptances, and thereby to destroy -the credit of our house; they shall smart for it.”</p> - -<p>Attorney-General and rest of the world are much -puzzled, concluding that but for unaccountable negligence -the prisoner would have destroyed this seemingly incriminating -document; as though a forger would not -prefer that his frauds should be thought to have been -actuated rather by devotion to his business and revenge -against the unpopular Old Lady of Threadneedle Street -than merely for the sake of self-aggrandisement. “The -Bank of England shall smart for it!” Were the story -credible—were Fauntleroy, in fact, a small defaulter—we -may well believe that another fierce outcry would have -arisen against the wicked old harridan of the City.</p> - -<p>There is little difficulty in proving the indictment, -while the poor wretch in the dock sits huddled in his -chair, trying vainly to conceal his face with his handkerchief. -A couple of his own clerks swear that the -signature to the deed is a forgery. Tear-stained Miss -Young, whom most regard as the sister-in-law of the -accused man, proves that her slender store of investments -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span> -has been pilfered. Officials of the Bank show that the -unhappy prisoner was the thief. There crops up a -curious instance of the <i>naïveté</i> of British jurisprudence. -For Threadneedle Street has been obliged to refund -the stocks belonging to Miss Young in order to make -her ‘a competent witness’ lest it might seem that she -has a motive in affirming or denying the forgery of the -power of attorney. Thus the Old Lady confesses that -she has bribed a witness in order that this witness may -not be suspected of trying to obtain a bribe!</p> - -<div id="i_195" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_195.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption large"><i>FAUNTLEROY’S TRIAL AT THE OLD BAILEY.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>When Fauntleroy is called upon for his defence, he -manages to stagger to his feet. The law of England -will not allow his counsel to speak for him. Drawing a -paper from his bosom, and wiping away the tears that -stream from his eyes, he adjusts his glasses. Then, in -a clumsy, insincere manner, like a schoolboy’s recitation, -he begins to read a long apology. It is apparent that -he has not written the speech himself, and it makes no -impression. Commencing with a complaint against the -false and libellous accounts in the press, he sketches the -history of the Berners Street Bank in order to show -that it has received the benefit of the whole of his forgeries; -describing how he alone has borne the burden -of the business and the anxiety of perilous speculations, -while his partners have given him no assistance. -All his frauds were accomplished to cover commercial -losses, the withdrawal of borrowed capital, and the overdrafts -of two of his colleagues. To every one of the -charges of prodigality he offers an emphatic denial. In -conclusion, he makes a pathetic vindication of his conduct -towards his wife, declaring that not only are the statements -published in the newspapers false, but that she -has had always the best of feeling towards him.</p> - -<p>Although just and merciful, the address of the judge -is hostile to the prisoner, and the jury, who retire at ten -minutes to three, return in less than a quarter of an hour -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span> -with a verdict of guilty. Exhausted with his long ordeal, -poor Fauntleroy is incapable of exhibiting emotion. A -vacant expression is stamped on his pallid features, and -when Justice Park tells him that the trial is over he -sinks listlessly into his chair. Raising him in his arms, -Governor Wontner supports him from the dock.</p> - -<p>On the following Tuesday, when the convict is -brought up to hear his doom in the New Court, Messrs -Broderick and Alley move an arrest of judgment on -certain technical points of law. Justice Park, who is -said to have been acquainted with the prisoner, does -not attend, but neither Baron Garrow nor the Recorder -will accept the empty but ingenuous arguments of -counsel. The prisoner reads a paper, stating that when -he committed the forgeries he had expected to repay the -money when his house prospered. Thus he begs for -mercy from the Crown. Sentence of death is the reply.</p> - -<p>After the publication of Fauntleroy’s defence, the -press attacks—as no doubt Jaggers Harmer had foreseen—are -turned against the unlucky partners. All -the statements of the condemned man find acceptance, -like the protests of every criminal, and it is believed that -his colleagues must be guilty of complicity in the frauds. -From <i>The Times</i> comes a demand that Messrs Marsh, -Stracey, and Graham shall be examined before the Privy -Council! A petition for reprieve is promoted by the -creditors of the Berners Street house, on the plea that -Fauntleroy’s evidence is necessary to elucidate the -intricate accounts. Another lies at the office of Harmer’s -paper, the <i>Weekly Dispatch</i>.</p> - -<p>Condemned convicts are quartered still, and for many -years afterwards, in the part of the prison known as -the Press Yard—a walled quadrangle, where they are -allowed to herd together indiscriminately during certain -hours, adjacent to a three-storied building containing a -day-room and the cells in which they are locked at night. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span> -Being a person of consequence, the miserable banker -does not share this ignominy, but returns to the same -apartment that he had occupied before his trial. Since -the use of fetters had been abolished in Newgate, he is -not required to endure even the ‘light manacles’ which -some of the papers state he is wearing.</p> - -<p>Remaining faithful to the end, although so deeply -wronged, his poor wife is a constant visitor. His -brother John, a London solicitor, and his fifteen-year-old -son, reported variously as being educated at -Winchester and Westminster (afterwards at Skinner’s, -Tonbridge), come frequently to the prison. The beautiful -Maria Fox, a mere schoolgirl when first she became -his mistress, and who appears to be deeply attached to -her protector, brings her two baby daughters to Newgate. -Few men in their last hours have witnessed more terrible -examples of the ruin they have wrought than the weak -and self-indulgent Henry Fauntleroy.</p> - -<p>Gentle Mr Baker, the white-haired layman of the -map office in the Tower, whose work in the foul dungeon -was scarcely less admirable than that of Elizabeth Fry, -seems to be more successful in winning the affections -of the condemned man than Ordinary Cotton; and the -efforts of this good Samaritan are aided by a clergyman -from Peckham, named Springett, to whom Fauntleroy had -been introduced by a friend. These two are his constant -companions during the remainder of his imprisonment. -Most of his old associates prove loyal, in spite of his -infamy and disgrace, for the fearful penalty of the forger -is thought to atone for the greatest of frauds.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, exertions for a reprieve continue. The -condemned banker is not included in the Recorder’s -report on the 20th of November at a meeting of the -Council, over which the King is said to have presided, -and the case is argued twice before the Judges on the -23rd and 24th of the month. George IV., the only one -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span> -of the four who was a gentleman, a scholar, or a man of -artistic taste, the only one whose foolish egotism did not -embroil the country in a costly and bloody war, was also -the only one with a merciful heart. His first great fault, -for which neither contemporaries nor posterity have -forgiven him, was infidelity to a dull, silly, uncleanly -wife, whom he was compelled to marry against his -will, and who was nothing loth to pay him back in his -own coin. His next, that, like the Duke of Wellington -and his brother William, he was a lion among the -ladies. George IV. is inclined to save Fauntleroy -from the scaffold, just as he wished to save all except -the murderer.</p> - -<p>Every effort fails, however, and on Wednesday night, -after a meeting of the Privy Council, the Recorder sends -his report to Newgate. At half-past six the Rev. -Cotton, whose duty it is to break the news of their fate -to the prisoners, proceeds to Fauntleroy’s room. The -banker, who is reading, looks up as the Ordinary enters, -and, observing that he is deeply affected, “Ah, Mr -Cotton, I see how it is,” he exclaims. “I expected nothing -less than death, and, thank God, I am resigned to my -fate.” During the rest of the day he seems more -concerned for the doom of Joseph Harwood—a lad of -eighteen, condemned to die the next morning for stealing -half a crown from the pocket of a drunken Irishman—than -for his own dismal situation. Worn out with -suspense, he does not awake until a late hour on Thursday, -and thus sleep spares him the anguish of hearing the -awful bell that is added to the torments of those who -go to the scaffold innocent of murder.</p> - -<p>On Friday, Miss Fox comes to bid him farewell, -bringing with her, so <i>The Times</i> reports, “two lovely -babes, both girls, of the ages of eighteen months and -three years, and both also in deep mourning.” Another -occasion, indeed, for the modern reader to exclaim—“Cruel, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span> -like the grinding of human hearts under millstones.” -One of that time thinks so—Edmund Angelini, -a crazy teacher of languages, who the same day makes -application to the Lord Mayor that he may be allowed -to mount the scaffold instead of Fauntleroy.</p> - -<p>On Saturday, the miserable wife pays her last visit. -Previously she has made a desperate attempt to reach -implacable Peel—fainting in his hall—which brings from -the Home Secretary “a kind message.” Afterwards -she strives to speak with Lady Conyngham, who pleads -inability to assist, conscious, no doubt, that although -she can mould divine right, her charms are powerless -against the incorruptible calico-printer. Angelini, still -filled with lust for the rope, but whose logic has made -no impression on the Lord Mayor, comes hammering -at Newgate door, and succeeds in gaining an interview -with Ordinary Cotton, whom, perhaps, he regards—judging -by appearances—as Jack Ketch’s commanding -officer.</p> - -<p>With the Sabbath comes gala-day and the ‘condemned -sermon’ The partners of Jaggers Harmer, by -name Forbes and Mayhew, are humane enough to sit -with Fauntleroy in the ostentatious sable pew reserved -for doomed convicts, and the good Samaritans Baker and -Springett, supporting their charge with kind hands, -take their seats with the dismal company. Abductor -Wakefield has left a graphic picture of an entertainment -similar to this. The rude, unsightly chapel, near akin -in more than appearance to the dissecting-room in Old -Surgeons’ Hall, and with no more semblance of holiness -than the court at Bow Street, is packed with prisoners, -gay and careless sight-seers, the pomp of sheriffdom and -attendant lackeys. Hymns are bellowed, in hideous -blasphemy, beseeching divine mercy to show good -example to the creatures it has moulded in its own image. -Prayers are mumbled, and heeded as little by the gallows-gazing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span> -throng as the showman’s horn by children who -pant eagerly for the puppet-show. The hangman’s -prologue—the sermon—is what all desire, and everything -else is of no account. At last the Rev. Cotton, -smug and resolute in white gown, mounts the lofty pulpit, -and the Sheriffs attempt to screw their courage to face -the ordeal. The Ordinary is in his finest form. On the -previous Sunday he had shattered the nerves of the boy -Harwood, and had sent ‘a female’—condemned to die -for a paltry theft—into hysterics a fortnight ago. Scenes -like these make the condemned sermon attractive. To-day -the discourse is a stupid plagiarism of the Jacobite -doctrine of passive resistance, but the bank’s charter, -and not divine right, is Cotton’s fetish. While lauding -the humanity of “the greatest commercial establishment -in the world,” he displays his want of accuracy and legal -knowledge by praising the directors for having replaced -the stolen investments, as they had not yet done, but -were bound by law to do. “I deprecate that feeling,” -he declaims, “which is artfully and improperly excited -in favour of those who have no extraordinary claim to -mercy. When monstrous crimes have been committed -we have a right to call for judgment on criminals, and to -consign them to the fate the law demands. Offences are -sometimes brought to light which require the most severe -chastisement the law can inflict, and discoveries of such -a nature have been made in reference to the unhappy -individual to whom I shall more particularly address -myself,” etc., etc. Upon the limp, shrinking figure in the -large black pew, whose poor throbbing brain is pierced -through and through by the barbed words of the holy -man, all eyes are turned, save a few blinded with tears, -or those wretches of both sexes who testify by sobs and -howls that a like fate is their portion. Even in the -leathern faces and soulless eyes of the grim turnkeys -there glimmers a tiny spark of emotion. It is pleasant -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span> -to remember that the Rev. Cotton, harmless and worthy -gentleman in other respects, received strong censure from -those in authority for his eloquence at the expense of -Fauntleroy, and was accused of “harrowing the feelings -of the prisoner unnecessarily.” Still, it would have -been wiser to have attacked the system rather than -the man.</p> - -<p>Less gruesome even than the loathsome chapel is the -condemned cell on the fatal night. All day the doomed -banker has been calm and resigned, bidding adieu to his -brother and his son, and explaining to his solicitors -intricate details in the books of the bank. Late in the -evening Mr Wontner comes to visit him as usual, and -tries to persuade him to take something to eat, but the -wretched man protests he ‘loathed food’ For hours -he continues to pace the room, leaning on the arm of -Mr Springett. Although he declares that he shall never -sleep until after that ‘awful moment’ about three o’clock -he is induced to lie upon the bed. The clergyman, who -leaves the chamber for a few moments, finds him, when -he returns, sitting by the fire and greatly terrified. -Early in the morning he is able to accept a cup of -tea and a biscuit. Before six o’clock Baker has resumed -his work of mercy, and a little later conscientious -Ordinary Cotton joins the sad company. Neat and -precise as ever, the forger has made as careful a toilet -as if he was to attend a social gathering, attired in a -suit of black, with knee-breeches, silk stockings and -dress shoes, and a white handkerchief around his neck. -To Mr Baker he gives a few pounds to distribute -among the needy people in the prison, and leaves a -ring for Mrs Harris, the wife of the turnkey, to whom, -and also to her husband, he gives thanks for their -kindness.</p> - -<p>Fauntleroy is spared a visit to the Press Yard, or to -the adjacent apartment, where the manacles of prisoners -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -are knocked off previous to the march to the scaffold. -About 7.30 they conduct him to the ‘Upper Condemned -Room’ and here his favourite hymn is sung—“God -moves in a mysterious way”—and he partakes of the -sacrament. From the numerous conflicting reports it -may be gathered that Sheriff Brown and his ghastly -train—for Alderman Key did not care to be present—attend -their victim at a quarter to eight. At the end of -the long stone chamber, dimly lighted by two candles, -a small group is huddled before the fire—the Rev. -Cotton administering platitudes, Baker and Springett -on each side of the prisoner with their arms linked -in his. Fauntleroy is standing firmly in easy pose, -although his senses seem benumbed as if under the -influence of a narcotic, and he bows slightly to the -Sheriff, who addresses him in a few kindly words. The -Ordinary—clever stage-manager—seizes the opportunity -to draw the criminal a pace or two apart, and the officers, -taking the signal, come behind, and commence to place -their ropes around his arms. For a moment he seems -terrified, and like a hunted animal shrinks for refuge -to his two faithful friends, who gently place his hands -across his breast, while the attendants pinion his elbows -with their cords.</p> - -<p>The clock of St Sepulchre—ominous name!—strikes -the hour. With a solemn inclination of his head towards -the convict the Sheriff moves forward, followed by the -white-robed Cotton. Then comes the hapless banker, -supported by Baker and Springett. With tightly closed -eyes and mechanical steps, as though his nerves were -dead and his senses steeped in torpor, he moves almost -as an automaton. Through the long vaulted passages, -where the tread of footsteps seem to beat a funeral -march to the grave, down cold, steep stairs and along -damp, cavernous windings, amidst a gloom made more -fearful by the red glare of scanty lamps, the procession -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span> -crawls onward. As it reaches the gate of the long -corridor leading into the high, square lobby, from whence -the Debtors’ Door opens upon the street, the Ordinary -commences the service for the dead. At the sound of -the harsh words the wretched sufferer starts, and clasps -and unclasps his hands. No other sign of emotion -marks his bearing; and even when the boom of the -passing bell smites the startled ears of his companions, -and their footsteps, as though stayed, pause for a -moment involuntarily, he shows no sign of consciousness.</p> - -<p>Across the lofty stone hall, and under the gate of the -slaughter-house, the Sheriff and the Ordinary pass -onward. There is a rush of chill, moist air through -the open door, the bare wooden stairs reverberate with -the tread of feet, and in another moment Fauntleroy, -still supported by his friends, is standing upon the -platform in the open street beneath the frowning wall -of Old Bailey. Instantly every head in the dense -crowd is uncovered. Yet this is not a token of respect -for a dying man, but a time-honoured custom, so that -the view of those in the rear may not be obscured. -With eyes still closed, and his face turned towards -Newgate Street, Fauntleroy moves under the cross-bar. -Physical exhaustion is fast conquering him, and the -officials hasten their task. In a moment the cap is -slipped over his head, while Baker, accustomed to these -scenes, speaks to him in earnest prayer. The halter is -placed round his neck, and the loathly creature, whose -expert hands have finished pawing their victim, glides -swiftly from the scaffold. The Rev. Cotton continues -to read from his book, but his eyes steal sideways -furtively, and he throws a glance of meaning upon -the man who has descended. An instant later, the -Ordinary passes a handkerchief across his lips. It is -the signal! There is a crash of falling timber, and to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span> -those in the street Fauntleroy appears to drop through -the platform as far as his knees, and hangs swaying -from the strong black beam which holds the cord that -is gripping him by the throat. The bowstring of the -unspeakable Turk is a more artistic but not a more -cruel death.</p> - -<p>The performance was an immense success, for a more -stupendous throng had never gathered round the black -walls of Newgate. Over one hundred thousand persons -were said to have witnessed the entertainment, and reserved -seats in the houses commanding a view of Debtors’ -Door had been booked far in advance. At the ‘King -of Denmark’ in the Old Bailey the sum of fourteen -shillings was charged for a place; while at Wingrave’s -eating-house and at Luttman’s, which were exactly -opposite ‘the drop’ the price was as high as one pound. -“Many respectable-looking females,” says the <i>Morning -Post</i>, “were present at the windows, all attired in deep -black.” A line of large waggons, hackney-coaches -and cabriolets, all of which reaped a rich harvest, -stretched from the corner of Giltspur Street and Newgate -to Skinner’s Street, Snowhill, and every housetop -was overflowing with holiday-makers.</p> - -<p>It was a bitterly cold morning, with icy rain-storms -and a chill mist, so the resolute thousands thoroughly -deserved the enjoyment for which they set at defiance -all the ills of the flesh. Most careful precautions were -taken to avoid a repetition of the Haggerty-Holloway -tragedy, when the mob saved James Botting—that -worthy soul whose latter days were distressed by visions -of ‘parties’ in nightcaps with their heads on one side—an -infinite deal of trouble by trampling to death some -fifty of its fellows. Six huge barriers stretched across -Newgate Street at the corner of the prison, and there -were two intermediate ones, to break the press, between -that place and the scaffold; more were erected at the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span> -Ludgate Hill termination of Old Bailey, and within the -barricade around the fatal platform were four hundred -constables.</p> - -<div id="i_204" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/i_204.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="caption large"><i>CATNACH’S BROADSIDE OF FAUNTLEROY’S EXECUTION.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Sad to relate, the object-lesson was a failure in one -instance, for Henry Norman, a fine-looking lad of fifteen, -was charged at the Guildhall the next morning with picking -a pocket, the owner of which was gloating over the -spectacle of the strangled banker. It speaks highly for -the integrity of our modern police force that, in these -days of exclusive hangings, a nimble-fingered Robert -has never tried to filch the watch of an impressionable -Under-Sheriff. Or if he has, the public has not heard -of it.</p> - -<p>In these record-breaking times it is a common occurrence -for a trusted attorney to embezzle half a million -pounds, but before the achievements of Henry Fauntleroy -all previous forgeries sink into insignificance. Poor -Dodd surrendered all he stole, and Wynne Ryland’s -fraud was, in its way, as artistic a performance as those -of Thomas Chatterton, while a brief career of crime—as -in the case of Henry Savary of Bristol, who was lucky -enough to escape the gallows—ruined the brothers -Perreau. James Bolland and John Rouvelett were low-born -fellows; and although the public welcomed each as -a first-class criminal, neither gained the same prestige -as a forger of gentle birth. In a small way, Henry -Cock, the lawyer, anticipated the Berners Street frauds, -and two other cases bear some resemblance. Henry -Weston, a man of good family and social position, who -was hanged at the Old Bailey on the 6th of June 1796, -disposed of stocks amounting to twenty-five thousand -pounds in a similar manner to Fauntleroy; and -Joseph Blackburn, one of the most respected of -Leeds attorneys, who suffered a lingering death at -York on the 8th of April 1815, committed innumerable -frauds for a great number of years by transferring -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -and altering the denominations of the old familiar -blue stamps.</p> - -<p>“Fauntleroy’s doom was so thoroughly recognised as -well merited,” writes Mr Thornbury, sternly, about forty -years after the event, “that although in 1832 every -other kind of forger was exempted by law from the -gallows, the hands of the hangman still hovered over the -forger of wills and powers of attorney to transfer stock.” -Yet, since the penalty was never inflicted, this argument -appears superfluous.</p> - -<p>Fauntleroy certainly is the prince of forgers, as truly -as Jack Sheppard is the greatest of prison-breakers and -George Barrington the finest genius among pickpockets. -Although driven to crime in the first instance by moral -cowardice and craving for self-indulgence, he must have -possessed an almost Napoleonic confidence that his -abilities would conquer misfortune. Too proud to surrender -the terrible struggle, he refused to adopt the easy -alternative of flight to France with his ill-gotten gains. -When one tries to realise the stupendous task of manipulating -figures of such magnitude for so many years, the -brain reels. The regular payment of huge dividends lest -the victims should become aware of their loss, the constant -replacement of stock when discovery seemed to -threaten, the repeated buying and selling in order to rob -Peter to-day to pay Paul to-morrow, the daily juggling -with the books, and adjustment of balances, added to the -incessant vigilance lest the errors of a few figures should -mean betrayal to partners or clerks—all these wonderful -transactions show an example of mathematical legerdemain -such as the world has seldom seen. When it is -borne in mind that the man was playing for nearly ten -years with sums amounting in the aggregate to half a -million sterling, his title to the incomparable forger of all -time cannot be challenged. But like many another who -has contributed to the public amusement, his memory -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span> -soon faded from the minds of all save his creditors. -Scarcely had the curtain been rung down on the tragedy -of Fauntleroy, when it rose again upon the entrancing -drama of accommodating Miss Foote and wayward -Mr ‘Pea-green’ Hayne.</p> - -<p>Occasionally, but not often, we hear mention of the -banker’s name, and there was a recent reference to it in -one of the delightful novels of Anthony Hope.</p> - -<p>“It is no longer a capital offence,” declares ribald -Arty Kane, referring to forgery, and addressing charming -Peggy Ryle; “you won’t be hanged in silk knee-breeches -like Mr Fauntleroy.”</p> - -<h3 id="PART_II"><i>Part II.—Some Details of the Forgeries.</i></h3> - -<div class="sidenote">The Berners -Street bankruptcy.</div> - -<p>No complete balance-sheet of the Marsh-Stracey bankruptcy -appears to exist. The books of the firm seem to -have baffled both the Commissioners and the assignees; -and so artfully had Fauntleroy concealed his frauds, that -even skilled accountants did not succeed in unravelling -the whole of their mysteries. Contemporary newspapers -furnish many important clues, but their statements, when -not conflicting, are neither lucid nor exhaustive. Yet, -although many details must remain obscure, it is possible -to form a rough conception of the result.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">The position -of the -bankrupts.</div> - -<p>Since we know that the first dividend of 3s. 4d. in the -pound (distributed to the creditors on the 7th of -February 1825) absorbed a sum of £92,486, it is clear -that Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company required a grand -total of £554,916 to pay twenty shillings in the pound. -Practically these figures are substantiated by the preliminary -accounts presented at the meeting of the Commissioners -on the 18th of December 1824, which state -that the claims against the firm—excluding any liability -to the Bank of England—amount to £554,148. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span></p> - -<p>This estimate, however, is the only one of any accuracy -made at the time, for the assets expected to be realised -fell very short of the original calculation. A second -dividend of 3s. 4d. was received by the creditors on the -30th of August 1825, and between that date and the -appointment of the official assignee a further sum of -£46,243 was distributed. Thus the total of the first -three dividends—which were equivalent to 8s. 4d. in -the pound—amounts to £231,215.</p> - -<p>The bankruptcy return of Patrick Johnson (official -assignee), published in 1839, shows that assets were collected -subsequently amounting to £160,930, and thus -the creditor side of the Berners Street ledger appears to -have reached a total of £392,150.</p> - -<p>From this balance of £160,930—realised by the -official assignee after the payment of the first three -dividends—further distributions of 5d. and 1s. (being 9s. -9d. in the pound in all) were made respectively on the -23rd of December 1833 and the 9th of September -1835, and absorbed further sums of £11,560, 15s. and -£27,745, 16s.</p> - -<p>During September 1835 the claim of the Bank of -England against Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company was -compromised for a payment of £95,000 in cash; and a -further sum of £11,000 for the expenses of working the -Commission of Bankruptcy from the 16th of September -1824 to the end of the year 1833 must also be deducted. -Therefore a balance of £15,628—less any further costs—appears -to have remained for payment of a final dividend. -Although many of the newspapers state that this -was made on the 7th of October 1837, unfortunately none -of them give any particulars. Yet it may be conjectured -that the unfortunate customers of the Berners Street -Bank, after waiting for thirteen years, could not have -received more than 10s. 6d. in the pound. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span></p> - -<p>The following rough balance-sheet will explain the -above account:—</p> - -<table class="bbox"> - <tr> - <th colspan="3"><i>Dr.</i></th> - <th colspan="3"><i>Cr.</i></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>First div. 3s. 4d., Feb. 7, 1825,</td> - <td class="tdr">£92,486</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - <td>First div.,</td> - <td class="tdr">£92,486</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Second div. 3s. 4d., Aug. 30, 1825,</td> - <td class="tdr">92,486</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - <td>Second div.,</td> - <td class="tdr">92,486</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Third div. 1s. 8d., (paid before Dec. 28, 1832),</td> - <td class="tdr">46,243</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - <td>Third div.,</td> - <td class="tdr">46,243</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td style="vertical-align: top">Fourth div. 5d., Dec. 23, 1833,</td> - <td class="tdr">11,560</td> - <td class="tdr">15</td> - <td>Received by the official assignee at 84 Basinghall Street from Dec. 28, 1832, to Oct 7, 1837,</td> - <td class="tdr">160,930</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Fifth div. 1s., Sept. 9, 1835,</td> - <td class="tdr">27,745 16</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - <td></td> - <td></td> - <td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Bank of England, Sept. 1835,</td> - <td class="tdr">95,000</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - <td></td> - <td></td> - <td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Expenses of Administration up to Dec. 24, 1833,</td> - <td class="tdr">11,000</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - <td></td> - <td></td> - <td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Balance (including all costs from Dec. 24, 1833, to Oct. 7, 1837, and out of which the final dividend was made on Oct. 7, 1837,)</td> - <td class="tdr">15,628</td> - <td class="tdr">9</td> - <td></td> - <td></td> - <td></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td colspan="2">———————</td> - <td></td> - <td colspan="2">———————</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdr">£392,150</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - <td></td> - <td class="tdr">£392,150</td> - <td class="tdr">0</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td colspan="2">———————</td> - <td></td> - <td colspan="2">———————</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class="sidenote">The private -estates of the -partners.</div> - -<p>The private estates of Messrs Stracey and Graham -paid twenty shillings in the pound before the end of -1833; and upon that of Mr Marsh, the senior partner, -who appears to have been indebted to the firm for a -loan of £73,000, excluding his overdraft on his private -account, a distribution of 17s. 6d. had been made before -1834. Little was received on Fauntleroy’s estate, as -it was claimed almost entirely by the creditors of the -Berners Street Bank.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Losses under -Fauntleroy’s -management.</div> - -<p>It is now possible to form an estimate of the extent -to which Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company were defaulters, -and what were the losses under the Fauntleroy -régime. The total receipts set against the claims of -the creditors and the money stolen from the Bank of -England, show a deficiency of £522,980. Thus:—</p> - -<table class="bbox"> - <tr> - <th colspan="2"><i>Dr.</i></th> - <th colspan="2"><i>Cr.</i></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Claims of the creditors (to pay 20s. in the £)</td> - <td class="tdr">£554,916</td> - <td>Total receipts</td> - <td class="tdr">£392,150</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Gross loss of the Bank</td> - <td class="tdr">360,214</td> - <td>Deficiency</td> - <td class="tdr">522,980</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td>————</td> - <td></td> - <td>————</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdr">£915,130</td> - <td></td> - <td class="tdr">£915,130</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td>————</td> - <td></td> - <td>————</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span></p> - -<div class="sidenote">How the -losses were -incurred.</div> - -<p>Although it would be difficult, with any degree of -accuracy, to apportion under the separate charges this -adverse balance of over half a million pounds, and -although much must be left to conjecture, it is possible -to explain some of the ways in which this vast sum was -dissipated. At the outset, the suggestion—arising out -of one of the pleas of Fauntleroy, and believed at the -time—that the overdraft on loans to two of the partners -was responsible for a deficit of £100,000, is refuted by -the fact that both Messrs Marsh and Graham refunded -eventually their obligations to the full extent. In like -manner, the belief that large sums were lost owing to -the necessity of reinvesting constantly the various stocks -sold by Fauntleroy in order to avoid detection, overlooks -the fact that, on the other hand, these transactions must -have afforded similar opportunities for making a profit. -It is probable that many such losses did occur; but -since we may believe that the Berners Street Bank prior -to the forgeries was earning an income of £7000 a -year, it is likely that such an astute manager as Henry -Fauntleroy would be able to cancel many of these losses -through reinvestment by the profits he earned on the -immense capital he had secretly appropriated.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">(<i>a</i>) Loss of -£160,000 in -building -speculations.</div> - -<div class="sidenote">(<i>b</i>) £90,000 -lost by -paying -dividends on -the stolen -stocks.</div> - -<p>Although the forger’s estimate of the result of his -building speculations is extravagant, the newspapers of -the 20th of December 1824 make it clear that the Berners -Street house must have lost in this manner £160,000. -It is certain also that immense sums were absorbed by -the payment of dividends to the proprietors whose stocks -had been stolen. Nearly £7000 per annum must have -been required for this purpose from the year 1816, and -the sum would accumulate at compound interest, until, -as some say, an annual fund of £16,000 was required. -Setting aside all excessive calculations, we have the -great authority of the historian of the Bank of England -that £9000 to £10,000 a year was thus expended during -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span> -the progress of the forgeries. Further than this, notwithstanding -that the partners in the bankrupt firm -were not entitled to any fraction of profit, the testimony -of almost the entire press credits each of them with -receiving an income of over £3000. At the examination -of William Marsh, reported in the newspapers of the -1st of March 1825, it was proved that he was indebted -on his private account for an overdraft of £26,000. As -there is no reason to believe that Mr Stracey or Mr -Graham had enjoyed a smaller income, a further deficit -of nearly £80,000 is the result. And finally, as will be -shown, there is an overwhelming weight of evidence to -prove that the iniquitous Henry Fauntleroy, during the -nineteen years he was a partner, dissipated at least -£100,000. In addition, the repayment of the capital -of Sir James Sibbald (who died the 17th of September -1819), which formed a large portion of £64,000—the -capital of the firm in 1814—would swell the adverse -balance still further. Leaving this out of the question, -the facts stated above explain the deficit of £430,000; -and with the material at our disposal any further solution -would involve a more elaborate use of the methods -of conjecture.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">(<i>c</i>) Loss of -£80,000 -through payments -to -Messrs Marsh, -Stracey & -Graham.</div> - -<div class="sidenote">(<i>d</i>) Fauntleroy -spent -£100,000.</div> - -<div class="sidenote">To what extent -did -Fauntleroy -participate in -the proceeds -of his -forgeries?</div> - -<p>When Fauntleroy made his famous declaration from -the dock, he was endeavouring to refute the extravagant -assertion that he had spent a sum of over four hundred -thousand pounds in riotous living; and thus, led to the -opposite extreme, he made the mistake of attempting to -convey an erroneous impression of his frugality. Thus -the statement that he had never enjoyed any advantage -beyond that in which all his partners had participated -seems to hint economy; but as Mr Marsh had overdrawn -his loan account by £70,000, the proposition is irrelevant -to the argument. Then, again, he confesses that the -Brighton villa cost £400, but he is not candid enough -to admit the expenses of his other establishments. The -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span> -stern reality—that a thief cannot justify the expenditure -of one pennyworth of stolen property—never entered -his mind. Utterly false, however, is his answer to the -charges of profligacy—outrageous though they were.</p> - -<p>“It has been cruelly asserted,” he declares, “that I -fraudulently invested money in the Funds to answer the -payment of annuities amounting to £2200 settled upon -females. I never did make such investment.”</p> - -<p>No single tenet in Father Garnet’s doctrine of equivocation -puts greater stress upon the truth. Whoever -made the necessary investments—and the forger was -shrewd enough not to let the transaction appear in his -own name—there is certain evidence that he provided -lavishly for his mistress Maria Fox. The lie is merely -concealed in subtle language.</p> - -<p>“Neither at home nor abroad,” continues Fauntleroy, -“have I any investment, nor is there one shilling -secretly deposited by me in the hands of any human -being.”</p> - -<p>Such an assertion goes far beyond the sophistry of -the most misguided seventeenth-century Jesuit, for the -Commissioners of Bankruptcy were soon to discover -that he had squandered thousands on his friend Mrs -Disney. His one denial in unequivocal terms is a -deliberate falsehood.</p> - -<p>“Equally ungenerous and untrue it is,” the forger -proceeds, “to charge me with having lent to loose and -disorderly persons large sums of money which never -have and never will be repaid. I lent no sums but -to a very trifling amount, and those were advanced to -valued friends.”</p> - -<p>No doubt this last declaration had reference to the -rumour that he had squandered money upon the -notorious Mary Ann Kent, ‘Mother Bang’—who -figures as ‘Corinthian Kate’ in <i>Life in London</i>—and -its truth or falsehood must depend upon the exact -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span> -definition of the term ‘large sums’ The criminal who -had dealings with huge balance-sheets, naturally had a -magnificent sense of proportion.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">Fauntleroy’s -expenditure.</div> - -<p>Fortunately, there is evidence of some of the ‘prodigal -extravagance’ that was laid at his door. The -total loss of the Bank of England owing to the forgeries -was £360,214, and the original claim of the directors -against the Berners Street establishment was £250,000. -So it seems that the balance was believed to have been -spent wholly by Fauntleroy, and not placed to the -credit of the partnership. The sworn testimony of Mr -Wilkinson, an accountant employed by the assignees to -examine the books of the bankrupts—although inclined -to favour Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company—supports -this assumption in the most decisive manner. Thus, -in spite of his defence, it would appear that during -his management the forger appropriated for himself a -sum of over £100,000. These figures, moreover, are -endorsed by the fair-minded James Scarlett, who made -the same statement as Wilkinson in his speech for the -defendants in the case of Stone and Others <i>v.</i> Marsh, -Stracey & Company, which was heard on the 2nd of -March 1826. To disregard such unanimous testimony -is impossible.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">How did -Fauntleroy -spend the -money?</div> - -<div class="sidenote">(<i>a</i>) Domestic -expenditure -£2000 a year.</div> - -<p>It is quite credible that for a period of seventeen -years (from 1807 to 1824) a man of Fauntleroy’s habits -should expend an average income of £5000. Had -each of his three establishments—in Berners Street, in -Brighton, and at Lambeth—cost him as much as his -moderate estimate of one—and none of them could have -been less expensive—the total reaches £1200 a year. -In addition to this, it is known that he allowed an -annuity of £400 to his wife. Thus, as he kept horses -and carriages both at London and the seaside, his -lowest annual domestic expenditure must have been at -least £2000, or £34,000 over the period. Although -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span> -the house at Fulham was one of his later extravagances, -there were others that had taken its place previously.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">(<i>b</i>) Freehold -property -£10,000.</div> - -<p>The villa, land and furniture at Brighton, sold after -his death, realised nearly £7000—the residence alone is -said to have cost him this amount; and since he was -the owner of a mews and six houses in Bryanston -Square, and two other houses in York Street, his freehold -property, on a moderate estimate, must have been worth -£10,000.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">(<i>c</i>) Maria Fox -£10,000.</div> - -<p>From the reports of the trial of Maria Fox at the -Lewes Assizes in April 1827, we gather that Fauntleroy -settled on his youthful mistress £6000, besides an -annuity of £150, “of which the assignees,” said John -Adolphus, her counsel, “through the advice of a worthy -gentleman, Mr Bolland, were not so cruel as to deprive -her.” Thus another £10,000 is added to the banker’s -debt.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">(<i>d</i>) Mrs J. C. -Disney, -£10,000.</div> - -<p>During the month of December 1824 the London -papers are full of insinuations with regard to Fauntleroy’s -improper connection with a Mrs James C. Disney, and -the letter from the lady’s husband, which appeared in -the <i>New Times</i> on the 24th of December, substantiates -unwittingly much of the truth of the story. It is certain -that the creditors of Marsh, Stracey & Company recovered -large sums from this Mrs Disney, who had been the -recipient of Fauntleroy’s bounty to an extent exceeding the -limits of platonic love, and according to <i>The Times</i> the -amount refunded was £10,000. Although many reports -state that she received twice this sum, it is sufficient for -the purpose to accept the lesser figures.</p> - -<p>Thus there is almost complete evidence that -Fauntleroy’s expenditure under three heads—domestic -expenses, freehold property, and the two mistresses -above mentioned—absorbed a sum of £64,000. It is -not unreasonable to suppose that the man who could -squander this money in less than seventeen years, while -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span> -his firm was in so dire a plight, was capable of spending -double the amount. It is improbable that his various -establishments cost him no more than £2000 a year; and -if <i>The Times</i> of the 1st of December is to be believed, he -confessed that he had enjoyed a very much larger income. -The age of pinks and bloods was as extravagant as -our own, and many luxuries of life were more expensive. -Fauntleroy was a patron of ‘Corinthian Kate’; and if -Pierce Egan is an authority, we may conjecture—in spite -of her denial to Joseph Parkins—that the unfortunate -banker found her an expensive luxury. Like the great -man whom he took a pride in fancying he resembled, -it is notorious that the forger had a weakness for what -his contemporaries termed ‘ladybirds’ and was in this -respect a dissipated and worthless fellow. Moreover, he -was celebrated for his costly dinners and rare wines—there -is the grisly story of the friend who urged him as a last -request to tell where he purchased his exquisite curaçoa—and -he seems to have denied himself no luxury. -Although it is not possible to give a complete explanation -of Fauntleroy’s expenditure during the years of his -race to ruin, it is satisfactory to know some portion of -the details, and they show, through all possible coats -of whitewash, that he was guilty of the most prodigal -extravagance.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">The conduct -of the -partners.</div> - -<p>Since the partners of the Berners Street Bank were -censured for gross negligence in two courts of law, it is -not surprising that their creditors should have treated -them with intolerance. At first the public had regarded -them as unfortunate dupes, and it was not until Fauntleroy -had made his defence that a popular outcry arose. -It seemed incredible that three men of the world should -have thrown the heavy burden of managing a firm, -weighed down by embarrassments, upon the shoulders -of a youth of twenty-two, and equally preposterous that, -in the face of losses reaching into hundreds of thousands, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span> -the young man’s colleagues should have remained easy, -trusting, asleep. Yet, in spite of the onslaught of the -London press, and the clamour of the noisy creditors, -headed by Joseph Parkins and his fellows, beneath the -roof of the ‘Boar and Castle’ and the ‘Freemasons’ -Tavern,’ it is certain that Messrs Marsh, Stracey & -Graham were innocent of all guilty complicity in their -partner’s frauds. The statements that had aroused the -storm against them proved to be baseless or exaggerated. -It has been shown that the Berners Street Bank did not -lose £270,000 in building speculations between 1810 and -1816, as Fauntleroy suggested, and to meet the loss that -did occur a large sum was raised by the supporters of -the firm, to which William Marsh contributed £40,000. -Thus, considering the reticence of their manager, there -was good reason why the partners should believe that -they had weathered the financial panic which brought to -ruin so many of their contemporaries.</p> - -<p>Modern commerce estimates more accurately the value -of youth than the age of Mr Walter the Second; and as -young Fauntleroy, who was one of the smartest bank -managers in London, accepted his responsibilities with -zest and cheerfulness, it is not surprising that he became -the autocrat of the firm. Moreover, the juggler who -could deceive the clerks working at his elbow day by -day would have no difficulty in satisfying the periodical -curiosity of sleeping-partners. Fat profits rolled into -their coffers, and, like many another good easy man, they -did not pause to look a gift horse in the mouth. Fools -they were, and must remain, but in the end the world -ceased to suspect their honour.</p> - -<p>Still, their credulity was remarkable. All three of -them appear to have been the instruments of most of the -frauds, attending at the Bank of England to make the -transfer under the forged powers of attorney, and instructing -brokers to dispose of the stolen stocks and bonds. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span> -In one particular, however, the conduct of Marsh and -Stracey appeared dubious. On the day of Fauntleroy’s -arrest the daughter of the former cashed a cheque for -£5000, while the latter drew out over £4000 in the name -of his father. The trick was discovered, and restitution -made to the creditors.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">The Bank of -England’s -claim.</div> - -<p>As might be supposed, the Bank of England received -little sympathy either from the press or from the -people. The directors never disputed their obligation—as -managers of the public debt—to refund to the rightful -proprietors the whole of the stocks that had been stolen, -but they made every effort to enforce their claim against -the Berners Street firm—amounting to a quarter of -a million—which they contended that Fauntleroy had -placed to the credit of his house. It was soon made -clear by law that Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company were -responsible to the stockholders, who had been defrauded -by their managing partner, and thus were equally responsible -to the Bank, whose debt was similar to that of the -stockholders. The chief obstacle to the enforcement of -the Bank’s claim lay in the fact that the proprietors of the -stolen stocks were clients, and, as a natural consequence, -creditors also of Marsh, Stracey & Company. Being -aware that the directors were legally compelled to replace -their missing Consols and Exchequer Bills, they raised -a great clamour against the claim of the Bank, for -naturally they perceived that if it was enforced the cash -balances in their Berners Street pass-books would be -diminished. This difficulty compelled the Bank to seek -the consent of the Courts to permit them to claim from -the bankrupts the lump sum that had been restored to -the stockholders, so that it would not be necessary to -bring forward reluctant persons to prove each separate -debt. Lord Chancellor Lyndhurst ruled, however, that -each transaction must be established to the satisfaction -of the Commissioners of Bankruptcy in the usual way, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span> -and thus the Bank was driven to depend upon the stockholders. -Since the claim of half a million was compromised -for a payment of £95,000, we may conclude -that the majority of the Berners Street creditors were -not disposed to assist the rival claimant to a share of -their dividends.</p> - -<div class="sidenote">The transfer of -stock.</div> - -<p>Much has been written of the lax methods of transferring -stock in vogue at the Bank of England. As -the frauds were so slovenly that Fauntleroy’s clerks -had no difficulty in detecting their employer’s handwriting -in the signature attached to the forged power of -attorney produced at the trial, it is plain that the crimes -could not have continued for so many years unless -a most careless system had prevailed. The Berners -Street swindle showed that it was possible for any -applicant with whom the clerks at the Consols Office -were acquainted to complete the transfer of another -person’s securities, provided only that he possessed a -knowledge of the exact value of the particular stock -he wished to appropriate. A power of attorney seems -to have been as readily acted upon as obtained, and no -comparison of the real owner’s signature appears to -have been made. This danger was pointed out subsequently -at a meeting of the Court of Proprietors, and -a shareholder made the wise suggestion that when any -transfer was made immediate notice should be sent to -the proprietor of the stock.</p> - -<p>Yet checks and precautions did exist at the Bank -of England in the days of Henry Fauntleroy. The -purchasers of securities were recommended to protect -themselves from fraud by accepting themselves—that -is to say, by signing—all transfers of stock made to -them, thus giving the officials of the Bank the opportunity -of comparing the handwriting of the proprietor -whenever necessary. Still, the investing public rarely -complied with this regulation, and Fauntleroy must -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span> -have been aware that there was no danger of detection -on this account.</p> - -<p>Although forgery of such a description is more -difficult in these days, yet prudence should neglect no -safeguard that does not impede the business of everyday -life. A signature, however much resemblance it -has to its original, may still be a forgery, and personal -attendance might be simulated by a bold and plausible -scoundrel. The most sure precaution is the one suggested -on the 17th of September 1824 by the nameless -proprietor, that whenever a transfer is lodged immediate -notice shall be sent to the holder of the stock. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span></p> - -<h3 id="FAUNTLEROY_AND_THE_NEWSPAPERS">FAUNTLEROY AND THE NEWSPAPERS</h3> - -<p>1. <i>The Morning Chronicle.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Under the leadership of the famous John Black, this paper had become a -somewhat fat and stodgy production, savouring of the ‘unco guid’ It is -fierce in its attacks upon Fauntleroy’s partners for their indolence and carelessness, -and pleads that mercy shall be shown to the offender. Special prominence -is given to the pious conversations alleged to have taken place in Newgate -between the prisoner and his spiritual advisers Messrs Springett and Baker. -Since this paper is not hostile to Fauntleroy, it is strange that it should publish -(November 11) a vile communication from his enemy J. W. Parkins, an -ex-Sheriff of London, in which the writer tries to show that the prisoner who is -awaiting his trial has been a brutal husband. The first announcement that the -Bank in Berners Street had suspended payment appears in the columns of the -<i>Chronicle</i> on Monday, September 13.</p></blockquote> - -<p>2. <i>The Morning Post.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Although the <i>Morning Post</i> makes a point of pluming itself on its humanity -towards Fauntleroy, its attitude is wholly inconsistent and double-faced. Having -copied from <i>The Times</i> a column of disgraceful news concerning the private vices -of the dishonest banker, it turns round and upbraids its contemporary, a few -weeks later, for supplying the information. Foolish letters upon all kinds of -subjects from Fauntleroy’s bitter enemy, J. W. Parkins—Sheriff of London -1819-20—disfigure this paper constantly. The <i>Post</i> gloats over the scene at the -Debtors’ Door, and is glad that there was no pardon.</p></blockquote> - -<p>3. <i>The Morning Herald.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>This journal is opposed to the death penalty for forgery, and inserts several -letters, urging that the convict should be reprieved, but it admits, after the -execution, that while the law remained unaltered there were no special circumstances -in the case to warrant mercy. The report of the trial on November 1, -which holds up to ridicule the absurd and indecorous conduct of ex-Sheriff -Parkins previous to the meeting of the Court, furnishes a striking proof of his -malice against his former friend Henry Fauntleroy. During April 1823 the -notorious Parkins made a somewhat feeble attempt to assault Mr Thwaites of -the <i>Morning Herald</i> in his office, which is the reason, no doubt, why the editor -handles him so roughly.</p></blockquote> - -<p>4. <i>The Times.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The attitude of the greatest paper in the world towards the unfortunate -banker is a black record in its history. Although the man was a sensualist and -a forger of the highest degree, it is not creditable to British journalism of those -days that a leading newspaper should take infinite pains to rake up every -scandal of his past life, and to prejudice the public mind against him before he -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span> -was brought to trial. A more deliberate attempt to condemn a man unheard -has never been made in the press. It is amazing that an editor of the calibre -of Thomas Barnes should have printed the article of September 24 and the -disgraceful letter signed “T.” of September 25, which compares Fauntleroy -to Thurtell, the cut-throat. The reproof administered by James Harmer on -September 27, although fully deserved, was not sufficient to restrain the -licence of Mr Walter’s reporters. <i>The Times</i> proceeds to wrangle with the -<i>Brighton Gazette</i> as to whether the banker had been a libertine, and on October 9 -publishes a statement about his lenient treatment at Coldbath Fields prison, for -which it is compelled to apologise to Mr Vickery, the Governor. More -innuendoes follow concerning Fauntleroy’s moral character, and on October 19 -(before his trial!) it is reported that the printers at the ‘One Tun’ tavern in -Covent Garden were making bets as to whether he would be hanged.</p> - -<p>Almost as repulsive are the leaders written after the culprit’s execution. -“If forgery had not been capital before,” says this truculent journal, “the -most humane legislators would have doubted whether, if carried to a similar -extent, it should not be rendered capital in future.” Yet Samuel Romilly had -been in his grave only six years, and James Mackintosh and William Ewart -were left to continue his brave work. Finally, on December 4, comes a blast -of thunder that Dennis or the editor of the <i>Eatanswill Gazette</i> might have -envied. “We are not anxious to extend the narrative of Mr Fauntleroy’s life -by a description of his personal habits, but, if provoked, we can lay before the -public such a detail of low and disgusting sensuality, as would appear incredible -to those who were not as degraded in body and mind as he was. This narrative -would involve persons who hold themselves rather high, and who have presumed -to talk big with reference to our accounts of their wretched friend and associate. -Let them be quiet; if we find that in public or private (and we have channels of -information they dream not of) they have the impudence to disparage our -motives or deny our statements, we will hold up their names and actions to -public scorn and astonishment and disgust.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>5. <i>The Morning Advertiser.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>This journal, then as now the organ of the licensed victuallers, is hostile to -Fauntleroy, but moderate in the reports it publishes about him.</p></blockquote> - -<p>6. <i>The New Times.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>As might be expected, this paper deals some nasty raps at that from which -its editor seceded. It is very critical of the conduct of Fauntleroy’s partners, -with whose explanations before the Commissioners of Bankruptcy it is dissatisfied, -but does not make the reckless charges against them that appear in -some journals, such as the <i>Sunday Times</i> and <i>Morning Chronicle</i>.</p></blockquote> - -<p>7. <i>The British Press.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Gives more complete information than any other paper of the details of -Marsh, Stracey & Company’s bankruptcy. The reports of the proceedings -before the Court of Commissioners, and of the meetings of the Berners Street -creditors, which are criticised at large, throw much light upon the endless -ramifications of the Fauntleroy forgeries. This journal alone makes an attempt -to ascertain whether the statement of the criminal banker was endorsed by the -books of his firm. “I declare,” says Fauntleroy in his defence, “that all the -monies temporarily raised by me were applied, not in one single instance for -my own separate purposes or expenses, but in every case they were immediately -placed to the credit of the house in Berners Street, and applied to the payments -of the pressing demands upon it.... The books will confirm the truth of my -statement ... the whole went to the general funds of the house.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span></p> - -<p>The value of this assertion may be tested by reference to the columns of the -<i>British Press</i> of the following dates:—September 20, 29, October 6, November -13, 15, 17, 22, 23, 30, December 10, 13, 17, 20, 28 (1824), January 17, 19, -20, February 2, March 1, 19, April 11, July 25, August 31 (1825).</p> - -<p>For further particulars of the bankruptcy consult <i>The Times</i>, <i>Morning Post</i>, -and <i>Morning Chronicle</i> of December 24, 1833; and September 10 and 11, -1835. Also <i>John Bull</i>, September 20, 1835; the <i>Weekly Dispatch</i>, September -17, 1837; and <i>The Times</i>, October 7, 1837.</p></blockquote> - -<p>8. <i>The Examiner.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The statements in Fauntleroy’s defence are received with incredulity. -“From what we hear and observe of the man,” says the <i>Examiner</i>, in a leading -article, “we do not believe he would have risked his life to preserve a trading -concern of which he had only a fourth share. We expect the truth will be that -he began to forge to get money for himself, and was obliged to go on because -bankruptcy would have led to his detection.” The leader proceeds to condemn -the law of banking, and to attack the monopoly of the Bank.</p></blockquote> - -<p>9. <i>The Observer.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The veteran Sunday journal—which at this period was the property of -Wm. Clement, who owned also the <i>Morning Chronicle</i>, and afterwards <i>Bell’s -Life</i>—takes the bulk of its reports, like most of the weekly papers, from the -columns of the daily press.</p></blockquote> - -<p>10. <i>The Sunday Times.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>This hardy newspaper (which age cannot wither) condemns the criminal -code that makes forgery a capital offence, and charges Messrs Marsh, -Stracey and Graham with previous knowledge of their partner’s guilt. On -October 10 appeared the famous letter from malignant ex-Sheriff Parkins, -complaining that Fauntleroy or his partners had surrendered certain private -documents which he had left at their bank in safe custody. In those days the -<i>Sunday Times</i> was under the proprietorship of its founder, Daniel Harvey.</p></blockquote> - -<p>11. <i>The Englishman.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>A weekly paper, containing reports similar to those in the <i>Observer</i>.</p></blockquote> - -<p>12. <i>Bell’s Weekly Messenger.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The leading article of December 5 expresses the hope that Mr Fauntleroy -will be the last person executed for forgery. As a matter of fact the Berners -Street frauds postponed this much-desired reform, and the illogical argument of -George III. was revived in another shape—“If Dr. Dodd is pardoned, then -the Perreaus have been murdered.” Captain John Montgomery would have been -hanged on July 4, 1828, for forging bank notes, had he not cheated the -gallows by the aid of prussic acid; Joseph Hunton, the Quaker, suffered death -at Newgate on December 8 following, for issuing counterfeit bills of exchange; -and Thomas Maynard, who had obtained money from the Custom House under -a fraudulent warrant, was executed in the same place on the last day of the year -1829. After this date, although the capital penalty was not finally abolished -until 1837, no other person was hanged for forgery in this country.</p></blockquote> - -<p>13. <i>Bell’s Weekly Dispatch.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>This newspaper, founded in 1801—five years after his <i>Weekly Messenger</i>—by -John Bell, the printer of the <i>British Poets</i>, had now become the property of -James Harmer the Old Bailey attorney, who was Fauntleroy’s solicitor. The -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -scathing attacks upon Joseph Wilfred Parkins, which appear in this journal -on October 3, October 10 and November 14, explain the reason of the -‘XXX Sheriff’s’ animosity towards the unfortunate banker. Some time before -the arrest of the forger, Parkins, who had a law-suit pending, requested -Fauntleroy to return a certain cheque for £6000 that he had drawn upon his -firm a few years previously. The reply was that, as it could not be found, -probably it had been destroyed. On the strength of this statement, Parkins -swore in the witness-box on September 13, when his action was being tried, -that the cheque in dispute had never been presented, but to his amazement and -consternation the missing piece of paper was produced in Court. In consequence, -he not only lost his case, but was called upon to stand his trial for -perjury on December 20 following. By some means or other wily James -Harmer, who happened to be solicitor for the defendants against whom Parkins -was bringing his action, had discovered the cheque at the Berners Street Bank -soon after Fauntleroy’s arrest, and perceiving its importance to his clients, -had appropriated it. Naturally, this amusing piece of strategy was not relished -by the choleric ex-Sheriff, who cast most of the blame upon the shoulders of -the unhappy banker, and pursued him to the death without mercy.</p> - -<p>The <i>Weekly Dispatch</i> made a great effort to save the doomed man, and the -petition for reprieve which lay at its office received three thousand signatures. -The Rev. Cotton, Ordinary of Newgate, comes in for some well-deserved -censure for the tone of his ‘Condemned Sermon’</p></blockquote> - -<p>14. <i>Pierce Egan’s Life in London.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>This paper, started February 1, 1824, by the creator of <i>Tom and Jerry</i>, -gives extracts, copies for the most part from other sources, and similar information -to that contained in Pierce Egan’s account.</p></blockquote> - -<p>15. <i>John Bull.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Naturally, Theodore Hook’s paper did not miss the opportunity of inveighing -against <i>The Times</i> for its cruelty towards Fauntleroy, or of ridiculing the -sanctimonious articles of the <i>Morning Chronicle</i>. Still, it is unjust to Mrs Fry’s -friend and helper, the humane Mr Baker, whose work among the prisoners at -Newgate merits the highest praise.</p></blockquote> - -<p>16. <i>The Globe and Traveller.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Condemns the ‘mischievous law’ passed in 1708 to support the Bank of -England’s monopoly, which prevented a private banking establishment from being -controlled by more than six partners. The journal contends with truth that this -legislation “forces a business of great responsibility, which should be of entire -security, into the hands of small firms.” The law of 1825 altered all this.</p></blockquote> - -<p>17. <i>The Courier.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Has a weakness for drawing attention to its own propriety, in comparison -with that of its contemporaries. Its leader on the evening of the execution declares -that, although it refrained from comment while there was a chance of mercy, it -applauds the firmness of justice in refusing a reprieve when there was nothing -in Fauntleroy’s case to merit such interference. The <i>Courier</i> was in the hands -of Daniel Stuart—a great name in journalism—who was proprietor also of the -<i>Morning Post</i>.</p></blockquote> - -<p>18. <i>The Sun.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>A somewhat feeble paper, though well printed and arranged, edited by John -Taylor. It prides itself on never printing anything about Fauntleroy except -the proceedings before the magistrates.</p></blockquote> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span></p> - -<p>19. <i>The Brighton Gazette.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Cudgels <i>The Times</i> lustily, and is indignant that a mere London paper -should presume to know more about Mr Fauntleroy’s seaside residence than a -journal published in Brighton. About two years later the <i>Gazette</i> has much to -say about the beautiful Maria Fox (<i>alias</i> Forbes, <i>alias</i> Forrest, <i>alias</i> Rose), who -had lived under the protection of the fraudulent banker. A retired lawyer -named Barrow, who resided next door to the lady on the New Stein, accused -her of keeping a disorderly house, and she was called upon to meet this charge -at the Lewes Assizes. Although the fine advocacy of John Adolphus obtained -a verdict of not guilty, the judge went out of his way to compliment the -author of the prosecution. (<i>Vide</i> the <i>Brighton Gazette</i>, April 5, 1827; also -September 14 and 21, 1826.)</p></blockquote> - -<p>20. <i>The Rambler’s Magazine, or Frolicsome Companion.</i> Printed and published -by William Dugdale, 23 Russell Court, Drury Lane. April 1, 1827, pp. 180-182 -(<i>vide</i> Trial of Maria Fox).</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The learned ‘Pisanus Fraxi’—H. S. Ashbee—whose knowledge of this class -of literature is unrivalled, gives no description of this particular publication. It -may be a plagiarism of a magazine of about the same date, and bearing an -almost similar title (which it appears to resemble), noticed in <i>Catena -Librorum Tacendorum</i>, p. 327. Periodicals of this name are almost as -numerous, between the years 1782-1829, as the <i>Newgate Calendars</i>. The -<i>Rambler’s Magazine</i> makes two things evident: first, that Fauntleroy’s <i>chère -amie</i> was a “fair and engaging woman”; and secondly, that Mr Barrow had -much cause of complaint.</p></blockquote> - -<p>21. <i>The Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, November 1824 (part ii. p. 461); December -1824 (part ii. p. 580).</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>In the December number there is a trenchant letter from the Earl of -Normanton, condemning the criminal code. “Philosophy would deem it an -abuse,” says he, “to punish the crime of a Fauntleroy in the same manner as -the crime of a Thurtell.” For the obituary notice of William Moore Fauntleroy, -the brother of the forger, see the <i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, part ii. p. 1092, 1803.</p></blockquote> - -<h3 id="NOTES_ON_THE_FAUNTLEROY_CASE">NOTES ON THE FAUNTLEROY CASE</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note I.</span>—<i>Pierce Egan’s Account of the Trial of H. Fauntleroy.</i> Knight and -Lacey, 1824.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>No one excelled the historian of the Prize Ring in this style of literature, -and his two other similar works, the <i>Life of Samuel Denmore Hayward</i> (1822), -and the <i>Account of the Trial of John Thurtell</i> (1824), will remain text-books for -all time. Pierce Egan makes a note (p. 21) that Mr. Fauntleroy has never used -a ‘slang expression’ during his imprisonment. The surprise indicated by this -comment is natural, for, robbed of his italics, the author of <i>Life in London</i> -would have been left as naked to his enemies as Cardinal Wolsey.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note II.</span>—<i>The Newgate Calendar.</i> Knapp and Baldwin (1824-28). Vol. iv. -pp. 285-390.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Accepting the statement made by most of the daily newspapers, this account -declares that Fauntleroy was hanged for defrauding his wife’s family. Although -this statement was made by <i>The Times</i> on October 2, it was denied two days -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span> -later in that paper, and the contradiction was published also in <i>Bell’s Weekly -Messenger</i>, the <i>Globe</i>, and the <i>Courier</i>. Again, on December 4 <i>The Times</i> -repeats once more that “Miss Frances Young is no relation to Mrs Fauntleroy.” -Considering the bitter rivalry that existed between the various newspapers, and -the jealous criticism that each journal bestowed upon the information of its -contemporaries, it is certain that if the assertion made by <i>The Times</i> had been -untrue—and if false it could have been disproved easily—its rivals would have -exposed it with the greatest joy. Moreover, since Fauntleroy might have been -charged with twenty other indictments, the public mind would have been -shocked had his sister-in-law alone been selected as the instrument of vengeance.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note III.</span>—<i>The Anatomy of Sleep.</i> Edward Binns, M.D. Churchill (1842). -p. 282.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Although such an escape was a physical impossibility to Fauntleroy, there is -a rational explanation of the strange superstition—referred to in this book—that -he did not die on the scaffold, but was resuscitated, and lived abroad for many -years. At eight o’clock on the evening of his death the body was taken by the -undertakers, Gale and Barnard, to their premises opposite Newgate prison, where -the coffin was fastened down immediately by order of the relatives, who had -reason to fear that the morbid—attracted by the notoriety of the criminal—would -seek by means of a bribe to view the remains. The flames of rumour are set -ablaze by a tiny spark, and the fact that no one outside the prison saw the dead -body of the forger may have revived popular faith in a favourite belief. The -haste, too, in sealing up the shell may have excited suspicion. For in later -days it is certain that many persons cherished the idea that Fauntleroy, more -lucky than Jack Sheppard or Dr Dodd, whose friends tried in vain to restore -them to life, had survived his execution. <i>Vide</i> also <i>Notes and Queries</i>, First -Series, viii. 270, ix. 445, x. 114, 233. Possibly that prince of inkslingers, -G. W. M. Reynolds, may have had the Fauntleroy legend in his mind when he -drew the picture of the resuscitated forger in the first part of his obscene and -scurrilous romance, <i>The Mysteries of the Court of London</i>. Fauntleroy was -buried in the cemetery at Bunhill Fields on Thursday, Dec. 2.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note IV.</span>—<i>Old Stories Retold.</i> By George Walter Thornbury (1867), p. 290.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Mr Walter Thornbury makes a brave and ingenious attempt to explain -“the mystery still shrouding the great Fauntleroy swindle,” and “to conjecture -for what purpose the dishonest banker preserved in a private box so -carefully a suicidal statement of his own misdoings.” His conclusion is that -Fauntleroy invented the lie so it should not be thought that he had been -influenced by motives of greed, but that as time went on he began actually to -credit the untruth, and, treasuring the paper for conscience’ sake, was for years -“buoyed up by the secret excuse of an absurd and illogical revenge.” It is -only a want of lucidity that prevented Mr Thornbury from unshrouding the -mystery, for the explanation—the key of which he held in his hand—is a simple -one. There was method in Fauntleroy’s seeming madness. The document -found in his private box, which gave a list of his forgeries, and contained the -footnote explaining that his motive was revenge against the Bank, was dated -May 7, 1816. It is notorious that never in her history was the Old Lady of -Threadneedle Street so unpopular as at this time. For nearly twenty years -she had borne the odium caused by the suspension of cash payments, and by -the alarming depreciation of paper money. In like manner, the panic which -overthrew so many provincial houses in 1814, 1815, and 1816 was ascribed to -her envied monopoly; and her consequent prosperity, owing to the demand for -Bank of England notes, helped to increase the widespread jealousy. Never -had forger a more splendid shield than Henry Fauntleroy. Although he had -hoped and believed that the proceeds of his first frauds would enable his firm to -weather the financial storm, yet if Nemesis should overtake him before he had -struggled through the slough, he was justified in supposing that the Board of -Directors might hesitate to prosecute a man who would be hailed as a popular -champion. Indeed, had his crime been as paltry as that of Henry Savary, it is -quite probable that the public would have regarded him as an intrepid enemy of -the Bank’s monopoly, and that a like storm which compelled the financial -legislation of 1819 and 1825 might have saved him from the scaffold. Fate -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span> -compelled him to overreach himself, or the crafty story of revenge might have -been believed.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note V.</span>—<i>The History of the Catnach Press.</i> By Charles Hindley (1886), p. 73.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>But for the indefatigable researches of this author we should know little of -the immortal Jemmy, who, it must be remembered, was the Alfred Harmsworth -of his day.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note VI.</span>—<i>Dic. Nat. Biog.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Like Pierce Egan and Charles Hindley, the writer of this monograph states -that Fauntleroy was convicted for a fraud upon his sister-in-law, which is the -more remarkable as <i>The Times</i> is cited as an authority. The name of the -forger’s father was not Henry, but William; the arrest was made on September -10, not September 11; the warrant of commitment charged him with -embezzling, not a thousand, but ten thousand pounds; the Berners Street Bank -was not founded in 1782, but ten years later; the value of Miss Young’s stock -was £5450; and Fauntleroy was committed for trial on October 19. There -does not appear to be any authority for the assertion that the fraudulent transfers -first began in 1815, and it would be more correct to say that Messrs Marsh, -Stracey & Company announced the suspension of payment on September 13.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note VII.</span>—<i>History of the Bank of England.</i> By John Francis (1847). Vol. i. -pp. 339-345.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>The author of this work, relying upon the evidence of J. H. Palmer before -a Committee of the House of Commons in 1832, estimates the loss of the Bank -of England through the Fauntleroy forgeries at £360,000. Although these -figures were correct at the time when the Governor made his statement, the -Bank received £95,000 from Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company during -September 1835, in full discharge of their debt.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">1</a> Thus, as the gross loss to the -Bank, according to John Horsley Palmer, was £360,214, the actual loss appears -to have been reduced to £265,214.</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="smcap">Note VIII.</span>—For particulars of the Berners Street Bankruptcy consult the -following:—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>(<i>a</i>) <i>The Bank of England’s Case</i> under Marsh & Co.’s Commission. By -a Solicitor. (Lupton Relfe, 113 Cornhill. 1825.)</p> - -<p>(<i>b</i>) <i>The Bank of England’s Claim</i> ... in reply to Mr Wilkinson’s -Report upon the Facts. (Lupton Relfe. 1825.)</p> - -<p>(<i>c</i>) <i>Ryan and Moody’s Law Reports from 1823-1826.</i> “Stone and Another -<i>v.</i> Marsh, Stracey & Graham.” P. 364.</p> - -<p>(<i>d</i>) <i>Reports of Cases determined at Nisi Prius from 1823-1827.</i> By Edward -Ryan and Wm. Moody. “Hume and Another <i>v.</i> Bolland and Others.” P. 371.</p> - -<p>(<i>e</i>) <i>Cases in Bankruptcy from 1821-1828.</i> By Thomas Glynn and Robert -Jameson. “Governor and Company of the Bank of England in the matter of -Marsh, Stracey, Graham and Fauntleroy.” Vol. ii. pp. 363-368, 446.</p> - -<p>(<i>f</i>) <i>The Report of Committee of Secrecy on the Bank of England’s Charter</i> -(1832). <i>Vide</i> Evidence of John Horsley Palmer (Governor). P. 9, and -Appendix, p. 55.</p> - -<p>(<i>g</i>) <i>Returns as to Bankruptcies previous to the Act of Parliament, 1831.</i> -(1839.) Vol. xliii. p. 96.</p></blockquote> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">1</a> I wish to acknowledge, with many thanks, the kindness of Mr Kenneth Graham, -Secretary of the Bank of England, in verifying the sum paid by the assignees of -Marsh, Stracey & Company.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span></p> - -<h2 id="INDEX">INDEX</h2> - -<ul class="index"><li class="ifrst">Abbott, Charles, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Abinger, Baron, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Adair, Mr James, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Adair, Mr Serjeant James, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Adair, Dr Robert, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Adair, Robin (origin of song), <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Adair, Mr William, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">discovers his signature, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mentioned, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Addington, Dr Anthony, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Henry, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Adolphus, John, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ainsworth, Harrison, vii.</li> - -<li class="indx">Akerman (Governor of Newgate), his humanity, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Albemarle, second Earl, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Alley, Mr (counsel for Wall), <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Alvanley, Lord, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ammersley, Mr (banker), <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Angel, Miss. <i>See</i> Kauffman, Angelica.</li> - -<li class="indx">Angelini, Edmund, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Angelo, Domenico, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Angelo, Henry, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Aram, Eugene, viii, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Armstrong, Benjamin, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Asgill, Sir Charles, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ashbee, H. S., <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ashe, Miss, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Aston, Sir Richard, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Atlay, J. B., vii.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ayliffe, John, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bailey (barrister), <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Baker (coiner), executed, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Baker, Mr, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bamford, Sam, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">‘Bang’ Mrs, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bank of England, <a href="#Page_184">184</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a> <i>sq.</i></li> - -<li class="indx">Barnes, Thomas, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Barrington, George, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Barrow, Mr, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bartolozzi, F., completes engraving by Ryland, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bathurst, Henry (barrister), <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bell, John, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Bell’s Weekly Dispatch</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Bell’s Weekly Messenger</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Binfield, Betty, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Binns, Edward, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Black, John, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Blackburn, Joseph, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Blake, William, mentioned, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">visit to Ryland, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Blandy, Francis, described, <a href="#Page_1">1</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">breaks with Cranstoun, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">invites him to Henley, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attitude towards him, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">falls ill, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">suspects poison, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">last hours, <a href="#Page_18">18</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Blandy, Mary, mentioned, viii, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">described, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">early life, <a href="#Page_3">3</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">engagement to Cranstoun, <a href="#Page_4">4</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">passion for Cranstoun, <a href="#Page_8">8</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">fear of disinheritance, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">plots with Cranstoun, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">receives love philtre from him, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">prepares her father’s oatmeal, <a href="#Page_14">14</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">suspected by her father, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">calls in Dr Addington, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">writes to Cranstoun, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">conversation with dying father, <a href="#Page_18">18</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">accused by Dr Addington, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">taken to Oxford castle, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">life there, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">trial, <a href="#Page_23">23</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">speech, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">found guilty, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">last days, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">execution, <a href="#Page_30">30</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">burial, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">date of birth, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Blandy, Mrs, described, <a href="#Page_2">2</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bolland, James, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Boswell, James, viii;</li> -<li class="isub1">visits Mrs Rudd, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Botting, James, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Boucher, François, <a href="#Page_80">80</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Boyd, Hugh M’Auley, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Braham, John (singer), <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Brandreth, Jeremy, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Brighton Gazette</i>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>British Press</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Broderick, Mr, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Brooke, Dr, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Brown, Sheriff, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Brownrigg, Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Brummell, George (‘Beau’), <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bryer & Co., <a href="#Page_87">87</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span></li> - -<li class="indx">Budworth, Joseph, writes of Mary of Buttermere, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">advice to her, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">writes again, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">details of his articles, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Buller, Judge, <a href="#Page_95">95</a> <i>sq.</i></li> - -<li class="indx">Burke, William, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Bute, Marquis of, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">employs Ryland, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Butterfield, Jane, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Buttermere, Mary (the Beauty of), mentioned, viii, ix;</li> -<li class="isub1">Wordsworth’s lines on, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">becomes famous, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Wordsworth’s and Coleridge’s account of, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marries ‘Colonel Hope’ <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">description of, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">wedding tour, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">announcement of marriage, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">discovers husband’s identity, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">letter to Sir Richard Forde, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">popular sympathy with, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attitude to Hadfield after trial, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">child born, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage and subsequent life, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">contemporary descriptions of, <a href="#Page_176">176</a> <i>sq.</i></li> - -<li class="indx">Byng, Admiral, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Byron, Lord, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cadogan, Lord, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cameron, Jenny, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Canning, Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Canot, Peter Charles (engraver), <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Carlisle House, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Caroline, Queen, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Casanova, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Catnach, Jemmy, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Charlson, Abraham, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Chatterton, Thomas, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Chudleigh, Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Churchill, Charles, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Clement, Mr, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cock, Henry, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Conant, Mr John, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Conway, General, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Conyngham, Lady, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Coleman, Henry, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, mentioned, viii;</li> -<li class="isub1">articles on Hadfield, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">description of Mary of Buttermere, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Copley, Sir John, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> Lyndhurst, Lord.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cornelys, Madame, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> Imer, Therese.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cornelys, Sophie, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cotton, Rev. (Ordinary of Newgate), <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Courier</i>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cox, Sheriff, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cranstoun, Lady, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cranstoun, fifth Lord, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cranstoun, Captain William Henry, courts Miss Blandy, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">stays with Blandys, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">past life, <a href="#Page_4">4</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">divorce suit, <a href="#Page_6">6</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dismissal from Henley, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">return, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">desperate position of, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">plots with Miss Blandy, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">returns to Scotland, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sends ‘Scotch pebbles’ <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">writes instructions, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">denounced by Mr Blandy, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">escape and death, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">alleged innocence, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mentioned, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Crump, John Gregory, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">friendship with ‘Colonel Hope’ <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">honours his draft, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">witness at Hadfield’s trial, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mentioned, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Cumberland, Henry Frederick, Duke of, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Dagge, Henry (barrister), <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Dalboux, Hannah, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Davy, Serjeant, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Dawson, Mrs, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Delaney, Mrs, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Demarteau, Gilles (engraver), <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Dennis & Co., <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">D’Eon, Chevalier, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">De Quincey, articles on Hadfield, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Despard, Col. Edward Marcus, ix, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">De Vaudreuil, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Dickens, Charles, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Disney, Mrs J. C., <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Dodd, Dr, viii, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Donellan, Captain, viii, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Drummond, Henry, <a href="#Page_40">40</a> <i>sqq.</i></li> - -<li class="indx">Drummond, Messrs, <a href="#Page_40">40</a> <i>sqq.</i></li> - -<li class="indx">Drummond, Robert, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">destroys Mrs Rudd’s writing, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Duval, Claude, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Egan, Pierce, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Egmont, Lord, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Eldon, Lord Chancellor, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Elia, Essays of</i>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Emmet, Ann, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Englishman</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Evans, Private William, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ewart, William, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Examiner</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Falconet, Pierre (portrait of Ryland), <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Faulkner, Mary, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fauntleroy, Henry, mentioned, viii, ix, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">becomes manager of bank, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">description of, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">private life, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>liaisons</i>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">forgeries, <a href="#Page_183">183</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">discovery, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">arrest, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">examined at Marlborough Street, <a href="#Page_187">187</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">excitement over his case, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">friendship with Parkins, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">imprisonment, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">employs Harmer as solicitor, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">trial, <a href="#Page_193">193</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">defence, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">verdict, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sentenced, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">last days, <a href="#Page_197">197</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">execution, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">comments on case, <a href="#Page_205">205</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">details of forgeries, <a href="#Page_207">207</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">and the newspapers, <a href="#Page_220">220</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">contemporary accounts of trial, <a href="#Page_224">224</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">reported resuscitation, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">written statement of motives discussed, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span></li> - -<li class="indx">Fauntleroy, John, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fauntleroy, William, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fauntleroy, William Moore, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fawcett, Henry, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fenning, Elizabeth, viii, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ferrers, Lord, viii, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ferrick, Peter (surgeon), <a href="#Page_127">127</a> <i>sq.</i></li> - -<li class="indx">Fielding, Henry, viii, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fielding, Sir John, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fielding, William, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fisher, Kitty, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fitzgerald, George Robert (‘fighting’), <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fitzroy, Lady Caroline, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">(Petersham, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Lady Harrington, 86).</li> - -<li class="indx">Foote, Miss, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Forde, Rev. (Ordinary of Newgate), <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Forde, Sir Richard, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fortrose, Baron, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fox, Charles James, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fox, Maria, Fauntleroy’s mistress, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">visits him in Newgate, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mentioned, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">trial, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fragonard, Jean Honoré, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Francis, John, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">François, Jean Charles, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Frankau, Mrs Julia, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">account of Ryland discussed, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Frankland, Admiral Sir Thomas, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attacks Mrs Rudd, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">prosecutor at her trial, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">daughters painted by Hoppner, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Freeman, Mrs, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Freshfield, Mr, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Fry, Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Gahagan, Usher (poet), <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Gainsborough, Tom, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Gale and Barnard, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Gardelle, Theodore, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Garnet, Father, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Garrick, David, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Garrow, Baron, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Gentleman’s Magazine</i>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">George III.: mercilessness, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">portrait by Allan Ramsay, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">pardons Ryland’s brother, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">refuses to pardon Ryland, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">considers Wall’s case, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">refuses to pardon, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">George, Prince of Wales. <i>See</i> George IV.</li> - -<li class="indx">George IV.: humanity, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Gibbon, Edward, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Gillray, James, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Globe and Traveller</i>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Glynn (Recorder), <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Goodchild, Mr, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Goree (island of), <a href="#Page_113">113</a> <i>sqq.</i></li> - -<li class="indx">Gould, Henry, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Graham, W. (barrister), <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Graham, Mr, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Granby, Lord, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Green, William, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Grignion, Jacques (engraver), <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Gunnel, Susan, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a> <i>sqq.</i></li> - -<li class="indx">Gunning, the Misses, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Gurney, John, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Gwynn, John, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Hackman, Rev. Mr James, viii, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hadfield, John, mentioned, viii, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">passes as Col. Hope, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in Lake District, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">makes friends with John Crump, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">stays at Buttermere, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">acquaintance with Colonel Moore, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">betrothed to his niece, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">pretensions suspected, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marries Mary of Buttermere, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">wedding tour, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">returns to Buttermere, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">confronted by George Hardinge, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">arrested, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">draws on Mr Crump, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">escape, <a href="#Page_156">156</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">identity discovered, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">previous life, <a href="#Page_159">159</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">motives, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">details of escape, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">arrested, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">examination, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">taken to Carlisle, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">trial, <a href="#Page_166">166</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">speech, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sentenced, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">last days, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">execution, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">burial, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">case examined, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character and motives, <a href="#Page_172">172</a> sq.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hadfield, Mrs John, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">loyalty to husband, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mentioned, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Haley, Sheriff, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hamilton, Sir Edward, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hanson, John, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hardinge, George, <a href="#Page_155">155</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hare, William (‘burker’), <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Harmer, James, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">reproves <i>Times</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">proprietor of <i>Weekly Dispatch</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Harrington, Lady, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>. <i>See also</i> Fitzroy, Lady Caroline.</li> - -<li class="indx">Harris (turnkey of Newgate), <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Harrison, Richard, marries Mary of Buttermere, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hart, Mrs Christian, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Harvey, Daniel, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Harvey, Edward, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Harwood, Joseph, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hawkins, Sir John, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hayes, Catherine, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hayman, Francis, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hayward, Samuel Denmore, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">life of, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Heathfield, Lardner & Co., <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Heidegger, John James, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hindley, Charles, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hogarth, William, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Holroyd, George, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Holt (secretary E.I.C.), <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hook, Theodore, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hope, Colonel Alexander Augustus.</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>See</i> Hadfield;</li> -<li class="isub1">the real, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hope, Anthony, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hopetoun, third Earl of, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Howard, Frances, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span></li> - -<li class="indx">Hughes, Ball, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hughes, Sir Edward, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hulme, J. D., <a href="#Page_184">184</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hunt, Henry (‘orator’), <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hunt, Joseph, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hunton, Joseph, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Hutchings, W. W., vii.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Imer, Therese, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>See</i> also Cornelys, Madame.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Jack (Rann), ‘Sixteen String’ <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">James III., <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Jeffries, Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>John Bull</i> (newspaper), <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Johnson, Patrick, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Johnson, Dr Samuel, viii, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">and Mrs Rudd, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Jones, Mr Arthur (solicitor), <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Kate, ‘Corinthian’ <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Kauffman, Angelica, <a href="#Page_105">105</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">friendship with Ryland, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">pictures engraved by Ryland, <a href="#Page_89">89</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mentioned, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Key, Alderman John, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Kent, Constance, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Kent, Mary Ann (Mrs Bang), <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Keppel, Lady Caroline, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Kerr, General Lord Mark, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Kinder, Colonel George, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attacks Mrs Rudd, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Kirby (keeper of Newgate), <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Knowlys, Newman, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">La Charpillon, Mademoiselle, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lacy, Mrs, <a href="#Page_128">128</a> <i>sq.</i></li> - -<li class="indx">Lamb, Charles, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Law, Edward (Attorney-General), <a href="#Page_124">124</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">conducts case against Wall, <a href="#Page_125">125</a> <i>sqq.</i></li> - -<li class="indx">Lawrence, Sir Soulden, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Le Bas, Jacques Philippe, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Legge, Judge, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lee, George (highwayman), <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Leighton, Blair, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lewis, Evan, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lewis, Dr William, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lewis, ‘Monk’ <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lloyd (housebreaker), <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lovat, Lord, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lowry, Captain James, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a> <i>sq.</i></li> - -<li class="indx">Luddite riots, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lyndhurst, Lord, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lyttelton, Lord, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Lyttleton, Lady, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Macclesfield, Lord, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Macdonald, Sir Archibald, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Mackenzie, Frances, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>See</i> Mrs Wall.</li> - -<li class="indx">Mackenzie, Captain Kenneth, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Mackenzie, Kenneth (father of Mrs Wall), <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Mackintosh, James, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Macnamara, Colonel, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Maclean, James, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Mansfield, Lord (Chief-Justice), judgment in Mrs Rudd’s case, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mentioned, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Marsh, Sibbald & Co., <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Marsh, Stracey, Fauntleroy & Graham, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a> <i>sqq.</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Marsh, Mr William, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Martin, Samuel (M.P.), <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Maybrick, Florence, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Maynard, Thomas, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Mills (bankers), <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Mirabeau, Count, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Montgomery, Captain John, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Moore, Col. Nathaniel Montgomery, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">cashes draft on Mr Crump, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">suspects ‘Colonel Hope’ <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">confronts him, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mentioned, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Moreland, Mr (banker), <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Morning Advertiser</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Morning Chronicle</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Morning Herald</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Morning Post</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Mountenay, Mr, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Murray, Miss (Mrs Cranstoun), <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Murray, Fanny, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Napier, Sir Charles, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Nation, Mrs, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marries Hadfield, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> Mrs Hadfield.</li> - -<li class="indx">Nelson, Sara, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Newell, Thomas (attorney), <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Newgate Calendar</i>, vii, viii, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Newnham, Sheriff, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Newton, Mr (lawyer), <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>New Times</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Nicholson, Rev. John, <a href="#Page_153">153</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">faith in ‘Colonel Hope’ <a href="#Page_155">155</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">assists his escape, <a href="#Page_156">156</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">witness at Hadfield’s trial, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mentioned, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Nightingale, Mr, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Nollekens, Joseph, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Norfolk, Duke of, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Norman, Henry, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Norton, Benjamin (apothecary), <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Nucella, Mr, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Observer</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Oldham (Deputy-Advocate), <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Palmer, J. H., <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Palmer, William, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Park, Justice, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Parke, Colonel, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Parkins, Joseph Wilfred, mentioned, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">career, <a href="#Page_189">189</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">indicted for perjury, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">at Fauntleroy’s trial, <a href="#Page_192">192</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">letters to press against Fauntleroy, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">and <i>Morning Herald</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">letter to <i>Sunday Times</i>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lawsuit, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Parsons, William, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Paterson, George, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dies, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span></li> - -<li class="indx">Peckham (counsel for Ryland), <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Peel, John, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Peel, Sir Robert, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Pelham, Lord, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Perceval, Spencer, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Perreau, Daniel, mentioned, ix, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">description of, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">committed to prison, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">relations with Mr Rudd, <a href="#Page_48">48</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">speculations, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">takes house in Harley Street, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">statement in defence, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on trial at Old Bailey, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">defence and condemnation, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attitude after trial, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in the Press Yard, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">drive to Tyburn, <a href="#Page_64">64</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">execution, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">guilt, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Perreau, Mrs Daniel.</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>See</i> Mrs Rudd.</li> - -<li class="indx">Perreau, Mrs Robert, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">evidence at Mrs Rudd’s trial, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">begs Queen for mercy, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Perreau, Robert, mentioned, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">at Drummond’s Bank, <a href="#Page_40">40</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">denounces Mrs Rudd, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">committed to prison, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attitude towards brother, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">joins in plans of Daniel and Mrs Rudd, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">cashes bonds, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">trial at Old Bailey, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">defence and condemnation, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">loyalty to brother, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attempts to save, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in Press Yard, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">drive to Tyburn, <a href="#Page_64">64</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">execution, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">guilt, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Petersham, Lady Caroline (Fitzroy), <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Picton, Thomas, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Pitt, William, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Plank, Samuel, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Plumer, Thomas, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Pocock, Mrs, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Pompadour, Mme. de, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Poplett, Lieut. Thomas, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Quick (clerk), <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Rambler’s Magazine</i>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ramsay, Allan (portrait of George III.), <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Rann, John (‘Sixteen String Jack’), <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ransome & Moreland, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ratcliffe (coiner), executed, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ravenet (engraver), <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ray, Martha, viii;</li> -<li class="isub1">Récamier, Madame, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Reed, Mr Frederick, of Hassness, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Reynolds, G. W. M., <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Reynolds, Sir Joshua, viii, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Rice (broker), <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Rich, John, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Rives, Mr (lawyer), <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Roberts, Captain, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Robinson, George, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Robinson, Mary.</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>See</i> Buttermere, Beauty of.</li> - -<li class="indx">Romilly, Samuel, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Rooke, Sir Giles, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Roubiliac, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Rous (barrister), <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Rouvelett, John, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ryland, Edward, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his plates, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ryland, Mrs, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">opens print-shop, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ryland, Richard, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Ryland, William Wynne, mentioned, viii, ix, x, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attends St Martin’s Lane Academy, <a href="#Page_74">74</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">apprenticed to Ravenet, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">home in Old Bailey, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">goes to Paris, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">at Boucher’s studio, <a href="#Page_80">80</a> <i>sq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">engravings after Boucher, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">learns stipple, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">makes the grand tour, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">exhibits in England, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">returns to England, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">appointed king’s engraver, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">engraves royal pictures, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">friends, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">society, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">obtains pardon for brother, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">resides in Stafford Row, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">portrait, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">starts as print-seller, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">fails, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">visited by Blake, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">friendship with Angelica Kauffman, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">engraves her pictures, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">print-shop in Strand, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">success, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">extravagance, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">charged with forgery, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in hiding, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attempts suicide, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in Bridewell, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">trial, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">condemnation, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">last engravings, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">progress to Tyburn, <a href="#Page_98">98</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">execution, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">burial, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">guilt, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">genius, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Mrs Frankau’s account of, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">other accounts, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">list of engravings by, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Rudd, Margaret Caroline, mentioned, viii, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">description of, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">confesses forgery, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">committed to Bridewell, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">appears before Sir John Fielding, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">admitted as evidence for Crown, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">previous life, <a href="#Page_47">47</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">passes as Daniel Perreau’s wife, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sources of income, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">family, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">skill as forger, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">statement in defence, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">committed to Newgate, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">arouses public sympathy, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">her enemies, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">defends herself in the press, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dealings with Mrs Hart, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">and with Hannah Dalboux, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">her ‘pair of scissors’ <a href="#Page_59">59</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">six months in Newgate, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">her case before the judges, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">gives her brief, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">appearance at Old Bailey, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">trial and acquittal, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">conduct reviewed, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">subsequent history, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">death, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Rudd, Valentine, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Rutland, Duke of, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">St Martin’s Lane Academy, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Salvadore (moneylender), <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Sanxy (Dr), <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Savary, Henry, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Scarlett, James, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Scawen, William, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Scotin (engraver), <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Seaforth, Lord, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Selwyn, George, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span></li> - -<li class="indx">Serres, Olive, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Sharp, William (engraver), <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Sheppard, Jack, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Sibbald, Sir James, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Sidmouth, Lord, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Skelton, Mr, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Slaughter’s coffee house, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Smith (Governor of Bridewell), <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Smith, Madeleine, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Smith, Tom, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Smythe, Judge, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Springett, Rev., <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a> <i>sq.</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Stark, Thomas, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Stevens, Serjeant Henry, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Stewart, John, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Stracey, Sir Edward, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Stracey, Mr J. H. (Sir Josias), <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Strange, Robert (engraver), <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Strutt, James (pupil to Ryland), <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Stuart, Daniel, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Sun</i>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Sunday Times</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Sutherland, Captain John, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Swinton, Rev. John, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Sydney, Lord, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> Townshend.</li> - -<li class="indx">Sylvester (Crown counsel), <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Tadema, Alma, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Taylor, Sheriff Robert, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Thistlewood, Arthur, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Thomson, Sir Alexander, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Thornbury, George Walter, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Thornhill, Sir James, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Thornton, Abraham, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Thurtell, John, viii, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Timbs, Private Charles, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Times</i>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Townshend, Mr, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Traill, H. D., <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Turner, Anne, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Turton, William Henry, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Urban, Sylvanus, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Upton, Corporal Thomas, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dies, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Vickery (Governor of Coldbath Fields Prison), <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Villette, Rev. (Ordinary of Newgate), <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">at Ryland’s execution, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Waithman (Lord Mayor), <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Waterman, Mr (papermaker), <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wale, Sam, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Walker (engraver), <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Walpole, Horace, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Walter, Mr, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wall, Augustine, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wall, Governor Joseph, mentioned, ix;</li> -<li class="isub1">description of, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Governor of Goree, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">serves in West Indies, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in John Company, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">duels, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">service in North-West Africa, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Governor of Goree, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">censured by Horse Guards, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">arrest, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">escape, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">his soldiers in Goree, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">their discontent, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">has soldiers flogged, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">fugitive abroad, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">returns to London, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">surrenders, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">trial, <a href="#Page_125">125</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sentence, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">last days, <a href="#Page_131">131</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">execution, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">body ransomed from Surgeons’ Hall, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">burial, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">comments on his case, <a href="#Page_139">139</a> <i>sqq.</i>;</li> -<li class="isub1">other accusations against, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">reported court-martial, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">flogging of other soldiers, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">date of appointment, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wall, Mrs Joseph, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attempts to get husband reprieved, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">parting with husband, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mentioned, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Watteau, Antoine, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wellington, Duke of, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Weston, Henry, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Whibley, Charles, vii.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wild, Jonathan (thief-taker), <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wilkes, John, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">at Perreaus’ trial, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wilkes, Miss Polly, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wilson, Harriet, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wilson, Richard, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wilkinson, Mr, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wilkinson, Tate, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">William IV., <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Williams, Peter, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Williams-Wynne, Sir Watkin, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wontner (Governor of Newgate), <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wordsworth, William, mentioned, viii;</li> -<li class="isub1">lines on Mary of Buttermere, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on ‘little Barbara Lewthwaite’ <a href="#Page_148">148</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">visits Hadfield in gaol, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wood, Alderman, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wood, George, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Wright, Sir Sampson, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">York, Duke of, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Young, Miss Elizabeth, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Young, Miss Frances, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> - -<li class="indx">Youngson, Margaret Caroline, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>See also</i> Rudd.</li></ul> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="copy">PRINTED BY NEILL AND CO., LTD., EDINBURGH.</p> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> - -<p>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.</p> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Some Distinguished Victims of the -Scaffold, by Horace Bleackley - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISTINGUISHED VICTIMS OF THE SCAFFOLD *** - -***** This file should be named 52301-h.htm or 52301-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - 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