Celebrated naval and military trials

The American War was in 1776 at its height, and though some successes were for the moment cheering the spirits of the British Government, it already required but little foresight to see how the contest would end. The revolted colonies, with their declaration of independence, their President and Congress, had virtually become a new empire among the dominions of the world, and France was evidently about to give its aid to their complete establishment. It was just at this period that occurred the following extraordinary and execrable act of felony, the work of a single villain, guided by a kind of morbid enthusiasm and desire of notoriety. That Dr. Franklin, or Silas Deane, or the French Court, had aught to do with the crime is not in the least credible. It was, in a moment of war, the natural though questionable policy of the British Crown and its officers to tinge as much as possible the cause of the enemy. Hence the prisoner’s lying accounts of interviews with Mr. Deane, and of other transactions abroad, were skilfully relied upon and allowed to go forth as casting suspicion on the American and French Governments. The incendiary, however, did not support his averments with one tittle of evidence to inculpate any accomplice high or low, and so, on maturer consideration, thought the British Government and the public; for after the execution of the culprit, no political notice whatsoever was taken of the charges he brought against either America or France. It would, indeed, be an insult to the transcendent fame of Franklin, or the high character of Deane, to for an instant suppose them sharers in such atrocity. The burnings perpetrated by Jack the Painter are to be ascribed to the wretch’s malignant nature alone.

To come to the shameful affair itself. A fire had happened in the rope-house at Portsmouth on the 7th December, 1776, and had passed for an accident; and as no suspicion had fallen on any one, no inquiry was made about it, till, on the 15th of January, 1777, Mr. Russell, one of the under-clerks of the dockyard, having occasion to use some hemp in the hemp-house, discovered a tin machine, constructed for holding matches, and in the cavity at bottom spirits of wine. The matches had been lighted, and were nearly burnt out; but the fire had not reached the spirits, the want of air, as it is supposed, having extinguished it before it had its full effect. This left no room to doubt but that the late fire was wilfully and maliciously contrived.

If it had burnt as low as the cross-lines, it would have caught the matches placed on the sides, and would have burnt in four channels down to the spirits, which would have set the whole place in a blaze. The machine was made of tin, except the bottom, which was of wood. It was about the size of a half-pound tea-canister.

The stores in the store-house, which would have been burnt if it had caught fire, were sufficient to have rigged out fifty sail of ships.

It was then that the whole dockyard was alarmed. Some hundreds of workmen were instantly drawn together, and every one looked at his neighbour, convinced that whoever was the contriver of that machine, and had placed it there, was the incendiary.

This called to mind every minute circumstance that had happened previous to the breaking out of the fire on the day mentioned, and it occurred to one that a fellow had been locked into the rope-house the night before; to another, that a man, whose name was unknown, had been seen loitering about the yard on the very day; and to others, that he was a painter and had worked in the neighbourhood, and as he had never been seen there after the fire, a strong suspicion arose that he must be some way or other concerned in the mischief that had already been done, and also in the diabolical design which providentially had been defeated. A singular advertisement was issued, describing the person of the man, and under the name of John the Painter, offering him a reward of £50 to surrender himself to examination, and the same reward to any one who should apprehend him. In the meantime other fires broke out, particularly at Bristol, which could not otherwise be accounted for than by supposing American agents employed to spread fire and devastation throughout the kingdom, wherever their malignant purposes could be executed with effect—an idea that favoured the prejudices of the vulgar, and therefore was the more easily credited. It was not long, however, before Sir John Fielding, the able police-magistrate (half-brother, by the way, of the author of “Tom Jones”), found means to trace this John the Painter out, and some time about the beginning of February he was apprehended at Odiham, in Hants, for a burglary, and brought to town for examination.

The news of his commitment was soon spread; and it having been reported that he had been in America, and had worked there as a painter, Richard Earl Temple, K.G., P.C., desired one Baldwin, a painter, who had likewise been in America, and had done business there, to attend his examination before Sir John Fielding, to see if he could recollect him. But Baldwin, upon looking at the man, and being asked the question, frankly declared that he had never before seen him in his life. This open declaration, after others, as he said, had borne false witness against him, moved the prisoner in favour of Baldwin, and he expressed a strong desire to cultivate an acquaintance with him, which Baldwin did not decline, being encouraged to visit him as often as opportunity offered, in order, if possible, to bring him to confession. This had the desired effect, and brought the whole scene of iniquity to light. After a regular attendance on him for fifteen days, sometimes once a day and sometimes twice, the prisoner at length began to trust him, and to speak openly. He told him that he had been in France; that he had there seen Silas Deane, the American ambassador at the Court of Versailles; that Silas Deane had given him some money and had encouraged him to set fire to the dockyards at Portsmouth, Plymouth, Woolwich, &c., as the best means of distressing Great Britain, and that he had promised to reward him according to the service he should do to the American cause; and that, as an earnest of what should follow, he had given him a recommendation to, and bills upon, a merchant in London to the amount of £300, which, however, he had found necessary to burn to prevent a discovery; that, in consequence of this encouragement, he procured a passport from the French king, which passport he lamented that he had left at Portsmouth, with other things, in a bundle; that from France he came to Canterbury, where he devised the machine which had been found in the hemp-house, and had it there constructed; that before he left Canterbury he had a quarrel with a dragoon; and that when he removed from thence he directed his course to Portsmouth, where he prepared the combustibles with which he afterwards set the place on fire. He disclosed to Baldwin the secret of making the composition and the manner of his applying it, and told him the circumstance of his being locked in the rope-house; of his quarrelling with his landlady, on account of the interruption she gave him in his operations; of her forcibly turning him out of her house; of his taking another lodging; of the difficulty he had in lighting his matches; of his purchasing other matches; of his flight from Portsmouth in a woman’s cart; with many other particulars.

The prisoner was committed, and his trial came on at the assizes for Hampshire, on the 6th March, 1777, at Winchester, before Sir William Henry Ashurst, Knt., a judge of the Court of King’s Bench, and Sir Beaumont Hotham, Knt., a baron of the Exchequer.

The grand jury which had found the bill against the prisoner had for foreman Henry, second Viscount Palmerston, father of the late illustrious premier.

The counsel who appeared for the Crown were William Davy, serjeant-at-law; Mr. Mansfield (afterwards Sir James Mansfield, Solicitor-General, and subsequently Lord Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas); Mr. Missing; Mr. Buller (afterwards Sir Francis Buller, Bart., a judge of the Courts of King’s Bench and Common Pleas); and Mr. Fielding.

The prisoner appears to have had no counsel, but to have acted for himself throughout the whole trial.

The indictment was thus opened by Mr. Fielding:—

“May it please your lordships and you gentlemen of the jury, this is an indictment against the prisoner at the bar for a crime of so atrocious and uncommon a nature, as to render it impossible to affix any epithet to the crime descriptive of its enormity. This is, gentlemen, the first instance of its existence, and I hope in God it will be the last. The indictment, you have perceived already, turns upon three counts: the prisoner at the bar is first charged for setting fire to a quantity of hemp and ropes particularly specified; the second count is for setting fire to a certain building erected in the dockyard, called the rope-house: the third count is for firing His Majesty’s naval stores. Gentlemen, the matter will be more fully opened to you by the learned and experienced gentleman who leads this business, and I doubt not but your verdict will be satisfactory to your country.”

Mr. Serjeant Davy then stated the case, commencing thus:—

“May it please your lordships and you gentlemen of the jury, I am of counsel in this case for the king in the prosecution of the prisoner at the bar, who is described by the name of James Hill, otherwise James Hinde, otherwise James Actzen, for setting fire to the rope-house at Portsmouth dock, belonging to the Crown, the place where the cordage is made to supply the king’s navy, and which crime is constituted a capital felony by an Act of Parliament made in the twelfth year of his present Majesty (12 Geo. III., c. 24), till when it had not entered the imagination of man that such a crime could be committed at all. It will be unnecessary for me to expatiate upon the nature of the offence; that has nothing to do with the prisoner at the bar, any more than as he was an agent in the commission of it; and it will be necessary for me, therefore, to mention to you only those particulars that we have to lay before you in evidence, by which to affix the crime upon the prisoner, and to submit to you, upon the consideration of those facts, whether he is or is not guilty of the charge in the indictment.”

The learned serjeant then went through the whole of the evidence he was about to produce, and concluded thus:—

“The tenth part of these circumstances, which I have opened, would serve, I should think to decide the fate of any man standing in the prisoner’s situation; but it is the wish of the public, it is the wish of the Government, that all the world should know the infamy of this transaction, and that they should know to whom they are indebted for the sorrows they have felt, and how much they owe to the Providence of God, that America has not been able totally to destroy this country, and to make it bow its neck, not only to the yoke of America, but to the most petty sovereign in Europe; for let the English navy be destroyed—and here was a hand ready to effect it;—let but the English navy be destroyed, and there is an end of all we hold dear and valuable. The importance of the subject, the magnitude, the extraordinary nature of the thing calls for a more particular investigation than any other subject, of what kind soever, could demand; and therefore I need, I hope, make no apology for having descended so particularly into these minute, if any of them can be called minute, particulars of this story; we shall prove all these circumstances to the full, and surely there can be no doubt what shall be done with the man. I shall be glad to hear what he has to say for himself; and I shall be glad if he is able to lay this guilt at any body’s door besides those to whom he has laid it. I wish Mr. Silas Deane were here; a time may come, perhaps, when he and Dr. Franklin may be here.”

Prisoner: He is the honestest man in the world.

The testimony adduced was overwhelming, but as the prisoner’s subsequent confession fully relates every incident, it is needless to go here into the details. Suffice it to state that the lad who made the canister, the dragoon with whom the prisoner quarrelled at Canterbury, the woman at whose house he lodged at Portsmouth, the man who let him out of the rope-house, the persons who saw him in the dockyard, the woman who sold him the matches, the woman who took him up in her cart in his flight from Portsmouth, and last of all the bundle in which was his passport from France, with the identical articles in it, which he had specially mentioned to Baldwin; all these were produced in addition to and confirmation of Baldwin, who proved what he had heard from the prisoner himself.

One incident which occurred, while Baldwin was giving his evidence, is curious as showing how such statesmen as Silas Deane and Benjamin Franklin were at that time thought and spoken of in England; it was this:—

Baldwin: I mentioned to him about my family, that I had my son with me now in London; he was desirous to see him. I told him my wife was very much indisposed, which he said he was sorry for. I waited upon him from day to day, till the 15th February; on that day he told me all the particulars; he asked me if I knew one Mr. Deane. I told him “No;” he said, “Not Mr. Deane who is employed by the Congress at Paris?”

Prisoner: I remark to the witness that there is a righteous Judge, who also giveth righteous judgment; beware of what you say concerning that Mr. Deane. Perjure not yourself; you are in the sight of God, and all this company is.

Baldwin: The prisoner said, “What, not Silas Deane?” I told him “No;” he said “He is a fine clever fellow, and I believe Benjamin Franklin is employed in the same errand.” He said he had taken a view of most of the dockyards and fortifications throughout England, and particularly the number of guns that each ship in the navy had, and likewise the guns in the fortifications, the weight of their metal, and the number of men; and he had been at Paris two or three times, to inform Mr. Silas Deane of the particulars of what he found in examining the dockyards.

Prisoner: Consider, in the sight of God, what you say concerning Silas Deane.

Counsel for the Crown: You need not be afraid. Silas Deane is not here; he will be hanged in due time.

Prisoner: I hope not; he is a very honest man.

The only piece of evidence (beyond the prisoner’s own statements) by which the Crown could throw out an inference that he was tampered with by a foreign power, was the French passport produced; but as at its date England was not at war with France, such a document might have been procured as a matter of course.

The translation of the passport, which was read in court, was as follows:—

“Exhibited at the Office of Marine, at Calais. By the king. To all governors and our lieutenant-generals of our provinces and armies, governors particular, and commanders of our towns, places, and troops; and to all others our officers justiciary, and subjects to whom it shall belong—Health. We will and command you very expressly to let pass safely and freely, Mr. James Actzen, going to England; without giving him or suffering him to have any hindrance; but on the contrary, every aid and assistance that he shall want or have occasion for. This present passport to be valid for one month only, for such is our pleasure. Given at Fontainbleau, the 13th of November, 1776.

“Louis. By the king, De Vergennes. Gratis.”

After the accused had made a very rambling defence, impugning Baldwin’s veracity, the judge summed up clearly and minutely, and the jury almost immediately found the prisoner Guilty.

The prisoner was then asked in the usual form what he had to say why sentence of death should not be passed upon him, to which he replied, “I have nothing to say.”

Mr. Baron Hotham pronounced judgment as follows:—

“Prisoner, you have been indicted, tried, and convicted of a crime which the law of this country has thought fit to make capital, and now the most painful moment that I have undergone in the course of this trial is arrived, for it is my duty to pass upon you that dreadful sentence. I shall not interrupt those feelings which I trust you have by talking to you of the enormity of the offence which you have committed, because it is impossible for me, or any man who hears me, to add a word by way of aggravation to it, and it has this in particular about it, that it cannot have been committed from any motives of private malice, revenge, or lucre. It can have proceeded only from a general malignity of mind, which has broke out in a desire and a design, not only to ruin one devoted individual, but to involve every one of this audience, nay, the whole English nation perhaps, in immediate ruin. You cannot, therefore, be surprised that the law has thought fit to punish such a crime with death. You can as little be surprised if, after you have been convicted upon the clearest evidence of this offence, I can give you no hope of pardon.^[11] It is impossible for me to say a word on your behalf, and therefore I must entreat and conjure you, in the most solemn manner, to prepare yourself during the few days you have to live, to meet the great God in another world, and to ask him there for that pardon which you could not receive in this; there it will be worth receiving; and atrocious as your crime has been, short as the time is that you have to live, a sincere repentance now on your part may, and I hope in God will, procure you mercy at His hands. I say all this not to taunt or distress you in your present unhappy situation, but merely from motives of humanity and religion. For you cannot be suffered to live in this world; you must die, and that within a very few days. And therefore, before you go into eternity, for your soul’s sake do what you can, that that eternity may be an eternity of bliss instead of misery. I have only now to pronounce the painful^[12] sentence of the law which I am bound to do, and I accordingly adjudge and order you to be hanged by the neck until you shall be dead; and the Lord have mercy upon your soul.”

The Prisoner: “My lord, I am exceedingly well satisfied.”

On the morning after his condemnation, he informed the turnkey of his own spontaneous accord that he felt an earnest desire of confessing his crime, and laying the history of his life before the public; and that, by discovering the whole of his unaccountable plots and treasonable practices, he might make some atonement to his most injured country for the wrongs he had done, of which he was now truly sensible, and a repentant sinner.

This request being made known to John, fourth Earl of Sandwich, then First Lord of the Admiralty, that nobleman directed Sir John Fielding to send down proper persons to take and attest his confession. The culprit confessed accordingly, and the statement signed by him, and dated 7th March, 1777, was attested by George Durnford and N. P. Smith, Esqs., Justices of the Peace for the city of Winchester. It tallies with the more lengthy account of his hideous career which the prisoner also drew out, signed, and left for publication.

The prisoner was carried from Winchester Gaol on the 10th March, 1777, to Portsmouth, where it was appointed he should be executed at the dock gate.

Having been carried in an open cart by the hemp-house, and round the ruins of the rope-house, when he came opposite the commissioner’s house he desired to speak with the commissioner, who thereupon went up close to him. He said:—

“Sir, I acknowledge my crime, and hope for forgiveness from God, through the merits of my Saviour Jesus Christ. I ask pardon of you, sir, and hope your forgiveness.”

Upon the cart’s moving, he said, “he had one thing more to observe as a caution to all the commissioners of the dockyards throughout England, to be more vigilant and strictly careful of them for the future, because it is in the power of a determined and resolute man to do a great deal of mischief.” As the cart stopped at the end of the rope-house, he looked attentively at the scene of his offence, and said, “I acknowledge my crime, and am sorry for it.” On returning out of the dockyard, upon being asked if he had anything more to say to the commissioner, he said, “No; only I recommend great care and strict vigilance at the dockyards at Chatham, Woolwich, Deptford, Portsmouth, and Plymouth, and particularly at the rope-house at the latter.” Just before he was turned off he said:—

“I acknowledge the justness of my sentence, and hope for forgiveness, as I forgive all the world. I wish success to His Majesty King George and his family, and all his loyal subjects, and I hope for forgiveness of all the transactions that I have been guilty of from the year 1772, since my apprenticeship, and the world will be satisfied about me, as my life will be very soon in print.”

The convict then giving the signal, was drawn up by the pulleys to the top of the gibbet, which was made of the mizen mast of the Arethusa frigate, and was sixty-four feet and a half high. He hung one hour, and was taken down and suspended in chains on Blockhouse Port, at the mouth of Portsmouth Harbour, where his body remained gibbetted for several years.

The prisoner’s full confession was published after his death, and it forms so extraordinary a narrative, that the major portion of it may not be inappropriately inserted here. It runs as follows:—

“I drew my first breath at Edinburgh, in Scotland. My father, David Aitken, was a whitesmith, which business he for many years carried on in a creditable way. I was brought up in the persuasion of a Protestant dissenter, and being the only son, was treated with that paternal affection which, by gratifying all my desires, begot in me the most stubborn and obdurate disposition. At nine years of age I was placed in Heriot’s Hospital at Edinburgh, a charitable foundation of the same kind with Christ’s Hospital in London, where, continuing for six years, and having the advantage of a liberal education and a natural taste for drawing, I was at the age of fifteen apprenticed to an eminent painter in the city of Edinburgh, and I served the whole of my apprenticeship, much to my own credit, and to the satisfaction of my master. My leisure hours were generally employed in reading the most favourite subjects of the marvellous kind, such as the desperate expeditions and engagements of brave men both by sea and land. At the expiration of my apprenticeship, I set off with my mind thus prepared to seek my fortune. I had before lost my father, whose sudden death prevented him from placing me in business under his own eye, as was his original intention. His circumstances were such as could not enable him to make provision for me equal to the notions I had entertained. I had very early contracted an itch for the service, and notwithstanding the affairs of my father, I had yet hopes of procuring a commission in the land forces. I applied to my mother to assist in importuning my friends and relations to serve me in this particular. But our endeavours were in vain, and I saw the object of my ambition beyond my reach. I therefore, in a fit of resentment, embarked for London with all the money I could scrape together, not doubting but I should get into some creditable employ before it was all spent.

“On my arrival in the great metropolis, I applied to people in the painting way, and immediately got into employ. But business not long agreeing with my inclination, and having formed an acquaintance with some extravagant young men, by whom I was led into all manner of vice and debauchery, I soon found the last farthing of my little pittance expended. In this condition, deserted by my companions, and in a strange country, I determined to relieve myself on the highway. I accordingly provided myself with pistols, and without the least concern or apprehension of danger, proceeded to Finchley Common. Perceiving a post-chaise, I made up to it, and with a discharge of one of my pistols, demanded them to stop. My success in the first attack tempted me to proceed, so that before midnight came on I had robbed several carriages and horsemen, and upon the whole had collected a considerable booty. I returned to London with great satisfaction, and finding out my old companions, informed them I had just received a large sum of money. They congratulated me on my good fortune, and readily took me again into their party. I observed myself advertised, and an exact description of my person and dress in all the papers. It was therefore my first care to change my clothes and make every alteration in my person I could possibly devise, and it was my fortune to escape undiscovered. My own excess and that of my companions soon reduced me to the last shilling; at length, dreading the consequences of a detection, I determined to seize the first opportunity of leaving the kingdom. America presented itself to my imagination, and I readily believed it would turn out most to my advantage. Hearing of a vessel bound to America, I made application to the master, Captain John Robertson, who took me into his service: but not having money to provide myself with such things as were necessary for the voyage, I indented myself to him till such time as I should pay him twenty-four pounds Virginia money, and then was to have my full liberty. Soon after my arrival in Virginia, Captain Robertson having taken in a freight for England, consigned me over to one Mr. Graham, of James’ Town. But as it never was my intention to remain longer with the captain than suited my convenience, I immediately quitted the service of Mr. Graham, and travelled up the country through Maryland, till I arrived at Philadelphia. From thence I went to Amboy, and got employment in the painting business; but hearing there was better encouragement at New York, I made the best of my way to that city, where I received better wages, and remained very well satisfied for a considerable time. Upon hearing of the riots at Boston, the restlessness of my disposition would not suffer me to remain any longer at New York, and meeting with a companion, we agreed to set out together for that place, and I cannot deny being very active in those riots, particularly in sinking the tea, and insulting the friends of Government. When I heard of the armaments raising in Great Britain against America, and the expectation of a British fleet at Boston, I thought it advisable to leave the place, and therefore took the opportunity of a vessel and went to North Carolina, where meeting with another vessel bound to England, I got leave to work my passage home, and arrived at Liverpool in May, 1775. As soon as I had landed, having no money, I enlisted into a recruiting party, and received twenty-six shillings, with which in a few days I deserted, intending to go to Shrewsbury. In my way between Warrington and Holmes Chapel, I broke into a little shop and stole several handkerchiefs, &c. By the time I left Shrewsbury my money was nearly exhausted, upon which I broke into a shop and robbed it of a quantity of halfpence and about five shillings in silver, and I made off in the night for Birmingham. Soon after I arrived at Birmingham I purchased a pistol and several picklocks, and after pilfering a number of shops, I left Birmingham and took the road to Coventry. In my way to that city I broke open a house in a little town a few miles from it, where I stole a great quantity of handkerchiefs, &c., with which before daylight I reached Coventry.

“On my arrival at Coventry I met with another recruiting party, into which I also enlisted. I received half a guinea earnest, with which I absconded in the morning. I went to a hedge a little way out of the town, where I had secreted the handkerchiefs, and set off with them on my return towards London. I continued in London almost four months, where I got into connexion with some women of the town, which led me to commit a number of street robberies for my support. I also broke open a house at Kensington, and committed several robberies upon the outskirts of London.”

Here follows a detail of other fraudulent enlistments and felonious offences committed by him in various parts of England. He then comes to the great crime which brought him to the scaffold:—

“One night being in conversation concerning the American war, the importance of His Majesty’s fleets and dockyards was the argument, and it was with satisfaction I heard every one agree that the safety, the welfare, and even the existence of the nation depended on them. I endeavoured to keep the conversation up as much as possible, and the more it was canvassed, the more evident was the truth of the former conclusion. It is amazing with what force this conversation kept possession of my mind. In the night I had a thousand ideas, and all tended to show how important would be the event in favour of America, provided these dockyards and shipping should be destroyed. The more I considered, the more plausible was the undertaking. I spent two days in the contemplation of this malicious design, and promised myself immortal honour in the accomplishment of it. I beheld it in the light of a truly heroic enterprise, such as never would have been equalled to the end of time. I was persuaded it would entitle me to the first rank in America, and flattered myself with the ambition of becoming the admiration of the world! I set off for Portsmouth to inform myself of the particular situation, as also of the materials and stores with which these magazines were composed. I took account of all the ships of war in the harbour, their force and the number of men. I also took a plan of the fortifications unnoticed by the sentinels, the number of guns mounted on them, and their weight of metal. From hence I went to Plymouth, where I found things in much the same situation. My next care was to visit Chatham with the same circumspect attention, and in which I conducted myself with the same success. From hence I went to the yards at Woolwich and Deptford, and in both places informed myself of everything material. Having spared no labour in perfecting this general survey, I formed a design of going over to America to lay my plans and observations before the Congress, as well as to procure their sanction to the undertaking. After a deal of argument with myself, I at length resolved to proceed to Mr. Silas Deane and Dr. Franklin at Paris. I re-examined all my plans, threw my observations into proper order, and secreted them in a private part of my clothes to prevent an accidental discovery; and having made every other necessary preparation for my departure, I made the best of my way to Canterbury and Dover.

“I hired a small sailing boat to take me over. I embarked with only two hands, and in less than nine hours landed at Calais without any further difficulty. I made my way pretty readily and expeditiously to Paris, sometimes taking the advantage of a carriage, and sometimes walking on foot. My first inquiry at Paris was to find out the lodgings of Mr. Silas Deane. I called upon him at two different times, but did not meet with him at home. I at last saw him on the Pont Neuf in Paris. He treated me at first with great caution and indifference, but finding my solicitations very earnest, he desired I would meet him the next morning at his lodgings. I called on him at the time appointed, and was conducted into an elegant apartment, where he was waiting for me. To make myself of as much consequence as possible, I informed him that I had a plantation in America; that I was an utter enemy to Great Britain; that I had contrived a scheme which, if properly carried into execution, would effectually destroy the power of the Ministry, and throw the kingdom into the greatest confusion, if not into the hands of America. He expressed great surprise at my conversation, and desired me to give him an explanation of my meaning. I laid before him all my plans, and he at length seemed satisfied that it was practicable, and gave me a letter to a friend in London to supply me with money; and as soon as my pass was procured, I set off for Calais, and arrived at Dover, which place I immediately left, and took the road to Canterbury and Chatham. Here I spent two days in making some fresh observations on the ships and dockyards, after which I set out for London, in order to take road for Portsmouth.

“I arrived at Portsmouth on Thursday evening, the 5th of December, 1776, and immediately began to lay down a plan of operations. I concluded that in so large a place a number of fire engines were kept, and that on the first alarm they would fly to the assistance of the dock, and perhaps extinguish the fire before any considerable damage could be done. To prevent this I thought it would be necessary to set the town on fire at two different parts, imagining that the surprise and consternation which it would naturally occasion would prevent people from giving assistance to either, till the flames had made such progress as not to be got under. In the morning I applied at two houses for lodgings, one of which was occupied by Mrs. Boxell. I agreed with her for them. I left my bundle with her and said I should return in the evening. From hence I went to a public-house, refreshed myself, and engaged also for a bed. My next care was to visit the dockyard. My first intention was to set fire to the hemp-house, in which I secreted myself behind a large mow or bundle of hemp, supposing there was no danger of being discovered, although a number of men were employed in different parts of the building, under which I placed my combustibles, and intending to go in about two hours afterwards to set it on fire. But lest this should not take proper effect or be extinguished before it could communicate itself to other parts of the yard, I thought it would be more effectual to set fire to some other store-house also. In walking round the yard I observed the rope-house open, into which I went, and having gone all over it up stairs and down, I pitched upon a room containing a parcel of ropes and some hemp, which I thought a very proper place to set on fire. I went away and returned with two quarts of the spirits of turpentine, some gunpowder, and some touch-paper which I had previously made. I drew the cork from one of the bottles, and having prepared a train of hemp soaked in the spirits, I filled the neck of the bottle therewith, which I placed among the ropes, and covered it over with a quantity of refuse hemp which I found lying about. I placed the bottle upon its side, and put the train of hemp into a paper of dry gunpowder, and having covered the whole lightly over with hemp, I sprinkled the remaining spirits of turpentine upon the whole. I now pulled out my pistol tinder-box and endeavoured to strike a light in order to set it on fire; but the tinder being either damp or badly burnt, would not take fire. The attention with which I was endeavouring to light my match prevented me from observing the time, and therefore when I had found it impossible to strike a light, and was preparing to go to my lodgings, I found myself locked into the house. I was a little uneasy upon this occasion for fear of raising suspicion, particularly as I should be obliged to appear again to light the matches, which I had now failed in. I went from one end of the building to the other, which was of a prodigious length, and tried every door I could find, but all was fast. I went up stairs very gently for fear of being heard, intending to make my escape from one of the windows; but this I also found impossible. I then went back to the door at which I came in, and knocked for a considerable time. At last a lad came up and asked who was there. I told him I was a friend, and had come into the dockyard out of curiosity, having never been at Portsmouth before, and while I went up stairs to see this great building somebody had locked up the doors. I therefore begged he would let me out. He went away to call some other person, who directed me to a certain door in the building, at which he said I might let myself out. In order to allay their suspicion, I appeared to be very ignorant in every respect, and asked them a number of simple questions, for I very much expected to be taken into custody.

“I went to a public house to refresh myself, and from thence to my lodgings, at Mrs. Boxell’s. I went to bed and slept till about five o’clock in the morning of Saturday, the 7th of December, when I struck a light and got up. My first business was to mix up proper combustibles to set that house on fire, and the public-house I had before taken lodgings at. The sulphureous smell occasioned by the flammable articles brought up Mrs. Boxell, who in a violent passion burst open the door, asked me whether I was setting the room on fire, and insisted upon my leaving her house, saying she was sure I could have no good design. Finding her in earnest, I thought it most prudent to quit her lodgings without entering into further dispute, which could only tend to injure my business; so I took my bundle and walked almost two hours round Portsmouth Common to seek for another lodging. Observing a house in North Street which seemed to answer my purpose, I went in and agreed for a lodging, saying I was going a little way out of town, but should return in the evening; in the meanwhile desired the woman of the house (Mrs. Cole) to take care of my bundle.

“My next object was to accomplish the business in the dockyard. I went first to the hemp-house, and after waiting a safe opportunity, got into the room where I had left the materials, struck a light with my pistol tinder-box, and lighted the candle which I had before placed in the tin case under the hemp. I since find that this machine did not take effect. Having, as I thought, effectually completed my business here, I directed my steps towards the rope-house, and after waiting almost two hours, I took an opportunity of lighting the match that communicated to the gunpowder, which I believe took effect in about an hour and a half. The instant I had finished I quitted the dockyard, intending to go immediately to set fire to both my lodgings; but meeting a person near the dock gates who knew me when I worked at Titchfield during the time I was making my observations, and seeing him look at me very steadfastly, and recollecting at the same instant the affair at Boxell’s, I ran very precipitately out of town without giving myself time to call for my bundle, dreading an information, and the consequence of being taken into custody. When I had gone a little way out of town, I overtook a cart going from market, and in order to make more haste and be less observed, I prevailed with the woman who drove the cart to give me a lift, telling her I had to go to Petersfield that night, and would make her any satisfaction. I travelled all night without intermission, and arrived upon Kingston-upon-Thames about eleven o’clock on Sunday morning, where I stayed upwards of three hours to refresh myself.

“On my arrival in London, I concluded myself out of danger, and began to ruminate on my plan for the destruction of Plymouth; and arrived at Plymouth, and went with a design to visit the dockyard; but to my great surprise found the guard stricter, and the admission of strangers objected to, occasioned, as I was informed, by the burning of Portsmouth dock, which was supposed to have been purposely set on fire.”

He then enters into a detail of his attempt at Plymouth, where he could do nothing effectually owing to the vigilance of the sentinels. He thereupon turned his mind to Bristol:—

“Very much vexed at my disappointment, I determined to make the best of my way to Bristol; and as I was disappointed at Plymouth, resolved to destroy Bristol entirely and all the shipping. I arrived at Bristol on Monday, the 13th of January, and spent the whole of Tuesday, the 14th, in acquainting myself with the shipping, upon which I intended to make the first attempt, supposing, if I had any success, they would communicate the flames to the whole town. About midnight I proceeded with all my materials towards the quay. I got on board the Savannah la Mar, a Jamaicaman, and placed a quantity of turpentine, rosin, pitch, &c., round the mizen mast, to which I set fire. I then went on board the La Fame, another Jamaicaman, which lay at a little distance, in which I also placed a like quantity of combustible matter, and set fire to it. I then proceeded to another part of the quay, and got on board the Hibernia, an Irish trader, in which I placed a like quantity of inflammable materials, and a quart bottle of spirits of turpentine, to which I also set fire. I then broke open a warehouse belonging to a druggist, in Cypher Lane, supposing there were large quantities of oils and spirits of different kinds, which would occasion a dreadful fire in that part of the town. I set fire to a box in the middle of the warehouse, which I supposed would soon communicate to all parts of it. Having, as I thought, effected my business very complete, I walked almost four miles out of town, and stayed till near eight o’clock in the morning; but not perceiving anything of the fire, I returned to see whether it had taken effect, which I could do without suspicion, as I supposed people would see that I had just come into town. I went to the quay, where I observed one vessel, the Savannah la Mar, was much burnt; but the fire in the other two had gone out without taking effect. I also found I had miscarried in Cypher Lane, where the box of combustible matter had burnt out without doing any damage, which I thought very extraordinary, as I made sure of burning all that part of the town by this means. I was mostly vexed at the miscarriage among the shipping, as I found a strict watch was to be kept up in future which rendered all future attempts upon them impracticable; I thought of one scheme, however, which I had some hopes of succeeding in. Observing a vast number of barrels of oil upon the quay, situated very near a line of ships, I contrived the ensuing night to convey a large quantity of combustible materials amongst them, to which I set fire, hoping by this means to burn all the ships that lay near: but herein also I found myself disappointed; my matches went out without effecting the intended mischief, though greatly to my mortification. About two o’clock the next morning I proceeded to my new business, having the evening before fixed upon a number of warehouses, which I supposed, as it was now Sunday morning, would not be frequented, and therefore little danger of the fire being discovered till it had taken proper effect. I laid matches in upwards of a dozen warehouses, which I supposed would take fire before daylight, and from their number and situation be impossible to be got under, so that I promised myself I had accomplished the destruction of the whole town, or at least that part of it which was of most consequence. With this persuasion I left Bristol about six o’clock in the morning, and walked about three miles out of town, when turning round, I thought the whole element was in flames, so dreadful was the appearance it had at that distance, which tempted me to return to be an eyewitness of the destruction I had wrought. On my nearer approach the flames seemed to abate; but I found the whole city in consternation and terror; though my scheme had not answered my full intention. My matches had only taken effect in Quay Lane among the warehouses of Mr. Browne, bookseller, which occasioned a dreadful fire in that part of the town: in every other part I found my endeavours had failed. To compensate for this, I determined to make a fresh attempt on the Sunday night, and made every preparation for that purpose. Between one and two o’clock on Monday morning I set about this business, but was prevented by the vigilance of the watch raised by the inhabitants of the city, to patrol the streets, which obliged me to decline anything further that night. I made several fresh attempts the Monday and Tuesday nights following, but the patrol were too vigilant to allow me time to proceed. I therefore left Bristol, finding it impossible to complete my design.

“I now determined to make the best of my way to Paris, to acquaint Mr. Deane with my success, and I reached Calne, where observing a haberdasher’s shop, kept by one Mr. Lowe, I broke it open, and stole therefrom twenty pounds, some muslin, &c. It was to this little town that Mr. Lowe, whose shop I had broken open, and Mr. Dalby, keeper of Andover Bridewell, had both traced me. Mr. Lowe had got a description of my person from his wife, who observed me take particular notice of the shop, and concluded the next day that I had committed the burglary. Mr. Dalby had heard of my going through Andover, and finding I answered the description of the person advertised in the papers for setting fire to Portsmouth Dock, he set out in pursuit of me, and took me at this town, in whose custody Mr. Lowe found me on his arrival shortly after. I was taken before the Hon. Sir H. P. St. John, Knt., who committed me to Odiham Bridewell on suspicion of breaking open Mr. Lowe’s house; but Government having notice of my being in custody ordered me to the New Prison, Clerkenwell, to be examined before Sir John Fielding, relative to the fire at Portsmouth. Nothing appearing sufficiently strong against me to prove guilt in this particular, I was remanded back to New Prison, in order to be conveyed to Salisbury to take my trial for breaking open Mr. Lowe’s house; but my being decoyed into the trap set for me by Mr. Baldwin, to whom I disclosed the whole of my proceedings against Government, has brought me a death which the enormity of my crime deserves; but which, through sincere repentance, I hope will be forgiven as I forgive Mr. Baldwin and all the world.—James Aitken.”

A debate in Parliament on the subject of Jack the Painter and his offences led to a speech by Sir William Meredith against capital punishments, which was so remarkable for being uttered at that terrible penal period of our criminal jurisprudence, that I cannot refrain from inserting the whole of it here. The occasion was this:—On the 13th of May, 1777, the House of Commons sat in committee on a bill for the better securing and preserving the dockyards, magazines, ships, vessels, stores, warehouses, goods, and merchandizes, being the property of private persons within this kingdom.

Sir Charles Bunbury, M.P. for Suffolk, moved to the effect, that persons found guilty of offences against which the bill provided should not be punished with death.

Mr. Combe, of Earns Hill, Somerset, M.P. for Aldborough, Suffolk, thereupon thus expressed himself:—

“Whoever reads your statute book and sees how many crimes are punished with death, which are much less heinous than burning of ships, I am surprised any gentleman should it think not high time to put to death such dangerous and wicked incendiaries. It is true John the Painter was hanged for burning Portsmouth Dock, because there is an Act of Parliament that makes it death to burn royal docks: but there is no Act of Parliament to hang men for burning merchants’ ships or warehouses; and if John the Painter had burned all the ships and warehouses in Bristol, he would not have been hanged. And I think the example of death full as proper in one case as the other.”

The Right Hon. Sir Wm. Meredith, M.P. for Liverpool, thus eloquently replied to Mr. Combe:—

“I agree with my hon. friend that no greater crime can be committed than the wilfully setting fire to merchants’ ships, which may endanger not only lives and properties, but public safety. I should think this crime above all others fit to be punished with death, if I could suppose the infliction of death at all useful in the prevention of crimes. But, in subjects of this nature, we are to consider not what the individual is nor what he may have done, we are to consider only what is right for public example and private safety. Whether hanging ever did or can answer any good purpose, I doubt; but the cruel exhibition of every execution day is a proof that hanging carries no terror with it; and I am confident that every new sanguinary law operates as an encouragement to commit capital offences; for it is not the mode but the certainty of punishment that creates terror. What men know they must endure, they fear; but what they think they can escape, they despise. The multiplicity of our hanging laws has produced these two things, frequency of condemnation and frequency of pardons. As hope is the first and great spring of action, if it was so, that out of twenty convicts only one was to be pardoned, the thief would say, ‘Why may not I be that one?’ But since, as our laws are actually administered, not one in five is executed, the thief acts on the chance of five to one in his favour; he acts on a fair and reasonable presumption of indemnity: and I verily believe that the confident hope of indemnity is the cause of nineteen in twenty of the robberies that are committed. But if we look to the executions themselves, what example do they give? The thief dies either hardened or penitent. We are not to consider such reflections as occur to reasonable and good men, but such impressions as are made on the thoughtless, the desperate, and the wicked. These men look on the hardened villain with envy and admiration. All that animation and contempt of death with which heroes and martyrs inspire good men in a good cause, the abandoned villain feels in seeing a desperado, like himself, meet death with intrepidity. The penitent thief, on the other hand, often makes the sober villain think this way. Himself oppressed with poverty and want, he sees a man die with that penitence which promised pardon for his sins here and happiness hereafter: that he thinks, that by robbery, forgery, or murder, he can relieve all his wants; and if he be brought to justice the punishment will be short and trifling, and the reward eternal. Even in crimes which are seldom or never pardoned, death is no prevention. Housebreakers, forgers, and coiners, are sure to be hanged; yet housebreaking, forging, and coining, are the very crimes which are oftenest committed. Strange it is, that, in the case of blood, of which we ought to be most tender, we should still go on against reason and against experience, to make unavailing slaughter of our fellow creatures! A recent event has proved that policy will do what blood cannot do: I mean the late regulation of the coinage. Thirty years together men were continually hanged for coining; still it went on, but, on the new regulation of the gold coin, ceased. This event proves these two things: the efficacy of police and the inefficacy of hanging. But is it not very extraordinary that, since the regulation of the gold coin, an Act has passed making it treason to coin silver? But has it stopped the coining of silver? On the contrary, do not you hear of it more than ever? It seems as if the law and the crime bore the same date. I do not know what the hon. member thinks who brought in the bill; but perhaps some feelings may come across his own mind when he sees how many lives he is taking away for no purpose. Had it been fairly stated and specifically pointed out what the mischief in coining silver in the utmost extent is, that hanging bill might not have been so readily adopted: under the name of treason it found an easy passage. I, indeed, have always understood treason to be nothing less than some act or conspiracy against the life or honour of the king and the safety of the state; but what the king or state can suffer by my taking now and then a bad sixpence or a bad shilling I cannot imagine. By this nickname of treason, however, there lies at this moment in Newgate, under sentence to be burnt alive, a girl just turned of fourteen. At her master’s bidding she hid some whitewashed farthings behind her stays; on which the jury found her guilty as an accomplice with her master in the treason. The master was hanged last Wednesday, and the fagots all lay ready—no reprieve came till just as the cart was setting out—and the girl would have been burnt alive on the same day had it not been for the humane but casual interference of Lord Weymouth. Good God! Sir, are we taught to execrate the fires at Smithfield, and are we lighting them now to burn a poor harmless child for hiding a whitewashed farthing? And yet this barbarous sentence, which ought to make men shudder at the thought of shedding blood for such trivial causes, is brought as a reason for more hanging and burning. It was recommended to me not many days ago to bring in a bill to make it treason to coin copper as well as gold and silver. Yet in the formation of these sanguinary laws humanity, religion and policy are thrown out of the question. This one wise argument is always sufficient. If you hang for one fault, why not for another? If for stealing a sheep, why not a cow or a horse; if for a shilling, why not for a handkerchief worth eighteen pence; and so on? We therefore ought to oppose the increase of these new laws; the more, because every fresh one begets twenty others.

“When a member of Parliament brings in a new hanging law, he begins with mentioning some injury that may be done to private property, for which a man is not yet liable to be hanged, and then proposes the gallows as the specific infallible means of cure and prevention; but the bill in its progress often makes crimes capital that scarce deserve whipping. For instance, the shoplifting act was to prevent bankers and silversmiths, and other shops where there are commonly goods of great value, from being robbed; but it goes so far as to make it death to lift anything off a counter with an intent to steal. Under this act, Mary Jones was executed, whose case I shall just mention. It was at the time when press warrants were issued on the alarm about Falkland’s Islands. The woman’s husband was pressed, their goods seized for some debts of his, and she, with two small children, turned into the streets a-begging. ’Tis a circumstance not to be forgotten that she was very young (under nineteen), and most remarkably handsome. She went to a linendraper’s shop, took some coarse linen off the counter, and slipped it under her cloak; the shopman saw her, and she laid it down. For this she was hanged. Her defence was (I have the trial in my pocket), ‘That she had lived in credit, and wanted for nothing, till a press-gang came and stole her husband from her; but, since then, she had no bed to lie on, nothing to give her children to eat, and they were almost naked; and perhaps she might have done something wrong, for she hardly knew what she did.’ The parish officers testified the truth of this story; but it seems there had been a good deal of shoplifting about Ludgate; an example was thought necessary, and this woman was hanged for the comfort and satisfaction of some shopkeepers in Ludgate Street. When brought to receive sentence, she behaved in such a frantic manner, as proved her mind to be in a distracted and desponding state; and the child was sucking at her breast when she set out for Tyburn.

“Let us reflect a little on this woman’s fate. The poet says:—