The Chronicles of Crime or The New Newgate Calendar. v. 1/2 / being a series of memoirs and anecdotes of notorious characters who have outraged the laws of Great Britain from the earliest period to 1841.

Barrington’s conduct in this situation was marked by such undeviating rectitude as not only to obtain him the esteem of the governor and other officers, but also to procure him the appointment of high constable of Paramatta, with a salary of fifty pounds a-year; on which occasion the governor complimented him on the faithful discharge of his duty, which he considered as effacing his former misconduct.

In this situation he continued some time, but in 1801 he was a mere living skeleton; and, having lost the use of his intellectual faculties, had retired on a small pension. He died in 1804, a melancholy instance of perverted talents; and it is supposed that his mental imbecility was brought on by remorse and conscious sensibility, operating on a mind capable of better things.

JAMES HADFIELD.

TRIED FOR HIGH TREASON, IN SHOOTING AT THE KING.

The Duke of York then stated, that he was present at the examination; he remarked at the time that he knew the prisoner, and that he had been one of his orderly men. The prisoner said, “He knew his own life was forfeited; he regretted the fate of his wife only; he would be only two days longer from his wife;” and he added, “The worst is not come yet.” His royal highness said the prisoner appeared to be perfectly collected. After his majesty had retired, his royal highness directed a search to be made in the king’s box, when a hole was discovered, evidently made by the impression of a shot, fourteen inches from his majesty’s head. It had perforated the pillar. In searching below, some slugs were found; and by the smell, it appeared that they had been recently fired off. Mr. Erskine asked his royal highness if the must loyal and brave men were not usually selected to be the orderly men. His royal highness answered, that the most tried and trusty men were appointed orderly men. When the prisoner was asked what could induce him to commit so atrocious an act, he said he was tired of life, and thought he should have been killed.

The evidence for the prosecution being closed, Mr. Erskine addressed the jury at considerable length.

Major Ryan, of the 15th light dragoons, in which the prisoner was a private, Hercules M‘Gill, private in the same regiment, and John Lane, of the Guards, all knew the prisoner, and deposed to his having been guilty of different acts of insanity.

Mr. Cline, surgeon; Dr. Crichton, physician; and Dr. Letherne, surgeon to the 15th regiment, as professional gentlemen, gave testimony to their belief of the prisoner’s insanity.

Captain Wilson and Christopher Lawton, of the 15th light dragoons; David Hadfield, brother to the prisoner; Mary Gore, sister-in-law to the prisoner; Catharine Harrison, and Elizabeth Roberts, detailed different acts of insanity, particularly on the day previous to and on which he committed the crime for which he stood indicted: and the prisoner was found by the jury to be insane, and was remanded to be dealt with according to his Majesty’s pleasure.

He was subsequently removed to Bedlam, where he remains.

Ravillac, who stabbed King Henry IV. of France, while in his coach, and surrounded by his guards, was tortured to death in the following inhuman manner:—

At the place of execution, his right hand, with which he gave the fatal blow, was put into a furnace flaming with fire and brimstone, and there consumed. His flesh was pulled from his bones with red-hot pincers; boiling oil, resin, and brimstone, were poured upon the wounds, and melted lead upon his navel. To close the scene of horror, four horses were fastened to the four quarters of his body, which were torn asunder.

He declared to the last moment that he had no accomplices, and that the only motive which impelled him to act the regicide was, because the king tolerated two religions in France.

His parents were banished their country, never more to return, on pain of immediate death; and his whole kindred, nay, every individual bearing the name, were ordered to renounce it; so that the name of Ravillac should never more be heard of in France.

RICHARD FERGUSON, alias GALLOPING DICK.

HANGED FOR HIGHWAY ROBBERY.

Richard Ferguson was the son of a gentleman’s valet, and was a native of Hertfordshire. Having received some little education, he was at an early age taken into employment in the establishment of his father’s master as a stable-boy. Being an active lad, and withal well versed in the management of horses, he was temporarily employed as postilion during the illness of the regular servant; but, being at length compelled to return to his more humble duties of stable-boy, his pride could ill brook the degradation; and he determined to look for higher employment. A friend of his master was in want of a postilion, and young Dick applied for the place. His qualifications were at once admitted, and he was engaged, and immediately accompanied his new employer to London. His habits were, at this time, of such a nature as to render him a favourite with his master, and, by means of steadiness and perseverance, he remained during a considerable period in the same service; but, being at length discovered in a situation with one of the female servants which left no doubt of his claims to a character for gallantry, he was dismissed.

He remained out of place during a considerable period, and, resorting to public-houses, he became acquainted with a number of persons of his own condition, from whom he speedily acquired a knowledge of all the vices fashionable among the party-coloured gentry. He, at length, was compelled to accept employment in the service of a livery-stable keeper in Piccadilly; but his master dying, he was again thrown upon the town, though not altogether without provision, for he had so far gained his master’s good opinion, that he had left him a legacy of 50l.

Dick was now the owner of a sum far greater than he had ever yet had the good fortune to possess; and he determined to commence business in a new line—that of gentleman. Purchasing mourning out of respect to his last employer, he frequented the theatres, and while at Drury-lane he became acquainted with a woman, his admiration of whose charms eventually, though by indirect means, proved his ruin. At first, he was disposed to imagine that she was a person of respectability, but, meeting with a ready acquiescence in his request to be permitted to accompany her home, he soon discovered the mistake into which he had fallen. Day after day he visited his dulcinea, until he had disposed of all the cash he possessed, and then he began to find, that there were others, whose visits were more welcome than his. He, not unfrequently, met persons in their way in or out of the house, with whose figures he became speedily familiar, and an accident subsequently made him acquainted with the nature of their avocations.

Finding that he was no longer welcome to the house of his lady, he resolved now to endeavour to procure the means by which he hoped again to secure her favour; and he accepted a situation as postilion at an inn in Piccadilly.

In his drives round the metropolis, he not unfrequently saw his rivals gaily dressed and mounted, but he was rather surprised one day, while on the North Road, at receiving a sudden summons to stop from a man, whose figure he fancied he recognised as that of one of them, but whose face was covered with crape. He speedily obeyed the order which he had so peremptorily received; and while the man who had called to him stood by his side with a pistol at his head, another, similarly disguised, galloped from a by-road to the chaise and demanded the money of its occupant. A sudden gust of wind now enabled our hero to satisfy himself of the truth of his surmises as to the highwayman near him, for the crape being momentarily blown from his face, he at once recognised in him one of the admirers of the lady of his affections, whom he subsequently found to be Jerry Avershaw. He stared at the man, but some persons at this moment appearing in view, the highwayman precipitately rode off.

Avershaw, it appears, was no less uneasy at the discovery, which he knew had been made, than Ferguson was astonished; and, pulling up with his companion at a roadside inn, they gave directions, that Dick should be introduced to them on his stopping there to water his horses, on his way home with the return chaise. Upon his entry, an offer was immediately made to him of a bribe, to prevent his discovering the haunts of the thieves, and his acquiescence procured for him an invitation to sup with the highwaymen on the same evening at their rendezvous in the Borough. With the money our hero flew to his doxy, but the lady having now discovered his situation declined to have anything more to say to him.

The chance, which had operated to deprive him of the society of the lady, however, gained for him the companionship of her visitors; and, meeting Avershaw at the house which he had appointed, he was received with every mark of attention. A sumptuous supper was served, and a large party having assembled, the night was spent in boisterous hilarity. Ferguson was delighted with the society to which he was introduced, and at once assented to a proposition, that he should become one of their number—a sharer in their dangers and profits. In obedience to a suggestion which was offered, it was determined, however, that he should not yet be called upon to enter into active service, but that he should furnish his associates with information as to the routes of the various chaises which went from the inn where he was employed, so that they might intercept them, and rob them. He pursued this diabolical plan with so much success as frequently to obtain some share of very large booties; but, at length, his connexion with the highwaymen being suspected, he lost his place, and was compelled to take the road himself. In this new employment, he was long remarked for the most extraordinary success. Of a bold and daring disposition, he defied danger. His skill in horses was found to be of the greatest importance to him; and the headlong pace at which he would travel, when in pursuit of an object, or when chased, procured for him the name of “Galloping Dick.” Numerous were the escapes which he succeeded in making from his pursuers, after he had committed robberies; and, in one instance, having been concerned with two others in stopping two gentlemen in the Edgeware Road, he succeeded in galloping off, while his companions were secured, and upon being tried were convicted and executed.

Nor were his successes confined to the road. In his amours he was equally bold and enterprising, and equally happy. He persuaded two married women, the wives of publicans in the Borough, to elope with him, and his intrigues were almost innumerable.

To follow him through the whole of his exploits would be to occupy a very considerable portion of our limits with the recital of his case alone. He was concerned in almost every robbery which was committed in the neighbourhood of the metropolis during the period at which he was celebrated, and his acquaintance and connexion with other thieves were almost as extensive as his crimes. He was repeatedly in custody at Bow-street, and was several times tried at the Old Bailey, but acquitted: but at length having been a party to a most daring robbery near Aylesbury, he was taken into custody within a short time of the commission of his offence, and being fully identified, he was committed for trial.

He was indicted at the ensuing assizes, and a verdict of guilty having been found, he was sentenced to death.

Upon his discovering that all hopes of mercy were vain, he sedulously applied himself to a preparation for his approaching end, and upon the day of execution conducted himself with decent resignation.

He was executed at Aylesbury in the month of April, 1800.

JOSEPH WALL, ESQ.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

It is most extraordinary that a species of fatality almost invariably appears to attend persons who have been guilty of offences like that of Mr. Wall. A gnawing desire to return to London constantly preyed on the mind of that gentleman, and at length in the year 1797, having first written to a confidential friend to procure him lodgings, he once more appeared in the metropolis. His presence was quickly notified to his relations, who constantly urged the imprudence of this step, and the importance of his again retiring beyond the reach of the laws of England, but all remonstrance proved vain, and he continued to reside in his lodgings in Lambeth, scarcely exhibiting any desire to conceal his name, character, or situation. He soon afterwards removed to new apartments in Upper Thornhaugh-street, Bedford-square, and from this time he seems to have contemplated surrendering himself to the Government, in order that he might take his trial for the offence imputed to him. His mind appeared ill at ease, but he was evidently incapable of coming to any firm determination upon a point of so much importance to his interests and those of his family. It was not until the year 1801 that he at length summoned up courage to do that which he now looked upon as his duty to his country, and then he wrote to the Government in terms singularly indicative of his disposition, saving that “He was ready to give himself up,” but not immediately tendering his person to custody.

A communication of this character was not to be overlooked by a minister of state, and although it was extremely possible, that in case of his continued silence, no steps would have been taken to procure the apprehension of Mr. Wall, orders were now given that he should be secured. At this period he was still living in Upper Thornhaugh-street, and there he was apprehended by officers, who received instructions from the office of the Secretary of State for the Home Department.

On the 20th of January, 1802, about twenty years after the commission of the crime with which he stood charged, Mr. Wall was indicted at the Old Bailey, and his trial came on before the Chief Baron of the Exchequer, Mr. Justice Rook, and Mr. Justice Lawrence.

Upon the case being called on, the prisoner informed the Court that he was deaf, and requested to be permitted to sit near his counsel, but the Lord Chief Baron informed him, that such an application could not be acceded to, for that there was a situation pointed out for persons placed in his condition, and that any distinction would be invidious. The case then proceeded, and it was proved by the witnesses, that Armstrong was far from being undutiful in his behaviour; that he was, however, tied to the gun-carriage; black men, brought there for the purpose—not the drummers, who in the ordinary course of things would have had to flog him, supposing him to have deserved flogging;—but black men were ordered to inflict the punishment ordered. Each man took his turn, and gave this unhappy sufferer twenty-five lashes, until he had received the number of eight hundred; and the instrument with which the punishment was inflicted was not a cat-o’-nine tails, which is usually employed, but a piece of rope of a greater thickness, which was much more severe than the cat. During the time at which this inhuman punishment was being inflicted, the prisoner stood by, and with a degree of cruelty almost unparalleled urged the executioners to “cut him to the heart and liver,” and in answer to the poor wretch’s cries for mercy, he was proved to have declared that “the sick season coming on, with the punishment, would do for him.” At the conclusion of the flogging, the miserable being was conducted to the hospital, and there, at the expiration of five days, he died, declaring that he had been punished without trial.

The defence set up was, that the deceased had been guilty of mutiny, and that the punishment was not so severe as reported, but that the deceased was suffered to drink strong spirits when in the hospital. Several witnesses were called on the part of the prisoner, particularly Mrs. Lacy, widow of the captain who succeeded Mr. Wall, and Mary Falkner, who not only agreed with him in the outrageous conduct of the men, and the violent language they used, but both positively swore that Lewis, the first witness against the prisoner, was not the orderly serjeant on that day.—John Falkner, Peter Williams, and some others who were present, were also examined, and their testimony went in full corroboration of the account given by the prisoner, and so far went to his justification; but in many material points it was in direct contradiction to the evidence which had been given by the witnesses for the Crown.

The jury, after being out of court some time, pronounced a verdict of “guilty.” The Recorder then proceeded to pass sentence of death upon the prisoner; that he be executed the following morning, and that his body be afterwards delivered to be anatomized according to the statute. Mr. Wall seemed sensibly affected by the sentence, but said nothing more than to request the court would allow him a little time to prepare himself for death. On the 21st of January, a respite was sent from Lord Pelham’s office, deferring his execution until the 25th, and on the 24th, he was further respited till the 28th. During the time of his confinement, previous to trial, he occupied the apartment which was formerly the residence of Mr. Ridgway, the bookseller. His wife lived with him for the last fortnight; although he was allowed two hours a-day, from twelve to two, to walk in the yard, he did not once embrace this indulgence; and during his whole confinement, he never went out of his room, except into the lobby to consult his counsel. He lived well, and was at times very facetious, easy in his manners, and pleasant in conversation; but during the night he frequently sat up in his bed and sang psalms, overheard by his fellow-prisoner. He had not many visitors, and his only attendant was a prisoner, who was appointed for that purpose by the turnkey.

After trial he did not return to his old apartment, but was conducted to a cell; and he was so far favoured as not to have irons put on, but a person was employed as a guard to watch him during the night to prevent him doing violence to himself. On his return from court, on the day of trial, his bed was brought to him in the cell, on which he threw himself in an agony of mind, saying it was his intention not to rise until they called him on the fatal morning.

The sheriffs were particularly pointed and precise in their orders, with respect to confining him to the usual diet of bread and water, preparatory to the awful event, and this order was scrupulously fulfilled. The prisoner, during a part of the night, slept, owing to fatigue and perturbation of mind. The next morning his wife applied, but was refused admittance without an order from one of the sheriffs. She applied to Mr. Sheriff Cox, who attended her to the prison.

From the time of the first respite, until twelve o’clock on Wednesday night, he did not cease to entertain hopes of his safety. The interest made to save him was very great. The whole of Wednesday occupied the great law officers; the judges met at the chancellor’s in the afternoon, and the conference which then took place lasted upwards of three hours.

All hopes were, however, vain, and at a little after four o’clock, on Thursday the 28th, the scaffold began to be erected by torch-light.

The prisoner had had an affecting interview with his wife, the night before, from whom he was painfully separated about eleven o’clock. Mrs. Wall then reluctantly departed, overwhelmed with grief, and bathed with tears; while the unfortunate husband declared that he could now, with Christian fortitude, submit to his unhappy fate.

During the greater part of the night he slept but little; but at about four o’clock in the morning his sleep was observed to become sound, and, according to the best recollection of his attendant, he continued in this sleep rather more than an hour; so that he could not have heard the fatal machine in its passage to the Debtors’-door. His voice preserved its usual strength and tone to the end; and, though very particular in his questions respecting the machinery in every part, yet he spoke of his approaching execution and death with perfect calmness. At half after six in the morning, his prison attendant, going to his cell, was asked by him “whether the noise he heard was not that of erecting his scaffold?” but he was humanely answered in the negative.

The Ordinary, Dr. Ford, soon after entered, when the prisoner devoutly joined him for some time in prayer. They then passed on to an ante room, when the governor asked “whether it was a fine morning?” On being answered in the affirmative, he said, “The time hangs heavily: I am anxious for the close of this scene.” One of the officers then proceeded to bind his arms with a cord, for which he extended them out firmly; but recollecting himself, he said, “I beg your pardon a moment;” and putting his hand in his pocket, he drew out two white handkerchiefs, one of which he bound over his temples so as nearly to conceal his eyes, over which he placed a white cap, and then put on a round hat; the other handkerchief he kept between his hands. He then observed, “the cord cuts me; but it’s no matter:” on which Dr. Ford desired it to be loosened, for which the prisoner bowed, and thanked him.

As the clock struck eight, the door was thrown open, and Sheriff Cox and his officers appeared. The governor approaching him, said, “I attend you, sir;” and the procession to the scaffold, over the Debtors’-door, immediately succeeded. He had no sooner ascended it, accompanied by the Ordinary, than three successive shouts from an innumerable populace, the brutal effusion of one common sentiment, evidently deprived him of the small portion of fortitude which he had summoned up. He bowed his head under the extreme pressure of ignominy, when the hangman put the halter over it. This done, Mr. Wall stooped forward and spoke to the Ordinary, who, no doubt at his request, pulled the cap over the lower part of the face, when in an instant, without waiting for any signal, the platform dropped.

From the knot of the rope turning round to the back of the neck, and his legs not being pulled, as at his particular request, he was suspended in convulsive agony for more than a quarter of an hour. After hanging a full hour, his body was cut down, put into a cart, and immediately conveyed to a building in Cow-cross-street to be dissected. He was dressed in a mixed coloured loose coat, with a black collar, swan-down waistcoat, blue pantaloons, and white silk stockings. He appeared a miserable and emaciated object, never having quitted the bed of his cell from the day of condemnation till the morning of his execution.

The body of the unfortunate gentleman was not exposed to public view, as was usual in such cases. Mr. Belfour, secretary to the Surgeons’ Company, applied to Lord Kenyon to know whether such an exposure was necessary; and finding that the forms of dissection only were required, the body, after those forms had been complied with, was consigned to the relations of the unhappy man, upon their paying fifty guineas to the Philanthropic Society.

JOHN TERRY AND JOSEPH HEALD.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

This, together with some other circumstances of suspicion, proved against the two prisoners, constituted the evidence against them; and the jury returned a verdict of Guilty. Sentence of death was then immediately

John Smith robbing a Hackney Coachman.
p. 379.

passed, and was ordered to be put into execution on the following Monday; but in the mean time a most extraordinary change took place in the demeanour of the prisoner Terry.

Upon his being attended by Mr. Brown, the Ordinary, he asserted that Heald was not guilty, and that if he were hanged, he should be guilty of two murders instead of only one. He entreated that the clergyman would endeavour to procure the respite of his fellow-prisoner, and declared that he could not bear to be hanged with an innocent man. The whole of the circumstances were in consequence submitted to the consideration of the learned judge; and every measure of precaution was instantly taken by that learned individual to prevent the occurrence of an event which might deprive an innocent person of life; but as it was found that Heald made no attempt to join in the protestations of his companion, and further that the whole of Terry’s conduct appeared to arise from a desire only that the execution should be respited, and that his declarations were contradictory and evidently devoid of truth, the law was ordered to take its course.

On the way from his cell to the scaffold Terry appeared to be in the highest state of excitement; and upon his appearance on the platform, he exhibited a most extraordinary degree of stubbornness. He shouted to the mob assembled, that they were going to hang an innocent man, and even made an effort to escape, by jumping from the ladder placed against the gallows, and which he was only prevented from doing by the clergyman, who seized him by the collar. He then renewed his protestations of his own guilt, and the innocence of his companion; and in spite of the entreaties of the clergyman, and of Heald, that he would allow him the benefit of the prayers, he continued to make the most clamorous resistance to the execution of the sentence. By the united exertions of five men, he was at length dragged to the drop, and the rope was forced over his head; but in his efforts he tore off the cap; and at the moment at which the platform sunk, he made a spring, and throwing himself towards the side of the gallows, got his foot upon the beam, and caught the corner-post with his arm. In this dreadful situation he supported himself for about a minute, when he was forced off by the executioner, and then, with his face uncovered, he was left suspended. In a few moments both he and his companion in crime were lifeless.

ROBERT SMITH.

EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.

The mode of robbery which this man adopted, was that of employing a hackney-coach to drive him to some outlet, and then robbing the coachman in the first lonesome place he came to; in which for some time he was very successful. This trade he commenced early in the month of March, 1803, when, being genteelly dressed, at night about ten o’clock, he hired a hackney-coach at Charing-cross, and ordered the coachman to drive to St. John’s Farm, near the one mile-stone on the Edgeware-road. When the coach got to the top of the lane leading to St. John’s Farm, Smith pulled the string, and told the coachman to let him get out, for he had passed the house he wanted to go to; upon which the coachman got off his box, and let him out of the coach. Smith then asking what his fare was, he told him, five shillings and sixpence; when he put his hand into a side-pocket, pulled out a pistol, and swore that he would immediately shoot him if he did not deliver his money. The coachman complied; and upon his demanding his watch, delivered that up also; and the robber succeeded in making his escape across the fields.

On Monday the 6th of March, at about eleven o’clock at night, Smith hired another coach, and ordered the driver to proceed to St. George’s-row, on the Uxbridge-road. Upon his arrival at the place of his destination, he demanded the coachman’s money and watch with the most horrid imprecations; and on some hesitation being shown to comply with his request, he produced a pistol and a tuck-stick, with the latter of which he wounded the driver in the side. Two seven-shilling pieces, and eight and sixpence in silver, were then handed over to him, and he decamped, threatening the coachman with instant death in case of his attempting to pursue him.

His career of guilt, however, was destined soon to close; for being met in King’s-road, Chelsea, by a patrole named Jones, on Sunday night, the 20th of March, under suspicious circumstances, he was taken into custody, and a pistol and sword-stick were found in his possession. Information of his capture being published, on the morning of his examination at Bow-street, he was instantly recognised by Jones and Treadwell, the two coachmen, his robberies upon whom we have described; and further proof of his identity in the former case was found in a duplicate which was taken from his pocket, referring to the pawning of the watch of the prosecutor.

Three other charges of a similar character were subsequently preferred against him by other coachmen, whom he had induced to convey him to unfrequented places in the vicinity of London; and a fourth case of robbery on the highway was proved by John Chilton, a porter at Messrs. Spode’s Staffordshire warehouse, whom he had met at Bayswater, and whom, after having maltreated and wounded, he had robbed of three shillings and sixpence.

On his trial the prisoner was recognised as a discharged artillery-man, and was identified by Treadwell, one of his prosecutors, as having been his fellow-prisoner in the King’s Bench; and he was found guilty, and sentenced to death.

He was hanged at the Old Bailey in the month of June 1803, apparently fully sensible of the enormity of the crimes which he had committed.

GEORGE FOSTER.

EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS WIFE AND CHILD.

From the testimony of the witnesses called in support of the case for the prosecution, it appeared, that the prisoner lived in a place called North row, Grosvenor-square, and that his wife and child lived with the mother of the former in Old Boswell-court, but were in the habit of going to the prisoner’s lodgings to sleep, every Saturday night. On the 4th December, in compliance with this custom, his wife quitted her mother’s house with the child, and was never more seen by her until the Wednesday following, when her body was picked up in the Paddington Canal, near the Mitre Tavern, at a distance of about two miles from Paddington. Inquiries were subsequently made, the result of which proved, that the prisoner had been seen with his wife at the Mitre, as late as half-past four o’clock on the evening of the 5th December, and that then they went away together, walking by the side of the canal towards London. The prisoner was met in town, by an acquaintance, at about six o’clock; but no suspicion was entertained until the discovery of the body. The prisoner was then taken into custody, when he declared that immediately on his leaving the Mitre, he had quitted his wife, and had gone across the fields as far as Whetstone, on his way to Barnet to see two of his children, who were in the workhouse there; but that on his arrival there, it was so dark that he returned to London at about eight o’clock, but that he never saw his wife again.

The learned judge, in summing up the case to the jury, remarked to them that the prisoner’s story was utterly at variance and inconsistent with the evidence adduced; and a verdict of Guilty was returned, and the prisoner was sentenced to death.

He subsequently confessed the justice of his conviction and punishment; and admitted that he had conducted his wife twice to the same spot with the same object, before he could summon up courage to destroy her. He assigned no reason for the diabolical deed, except that he had taken an unaccountable dislike for her, and did not know how otherwise to rid himself of her.

He was executed at the Old Bailey, on the 18th January, 1803.

After he had hung the usual time, his body was cut down and conveyed to a house not far distant, where it was subjected to the Galvanic process, by Professor Aldini, under the inspection of Mr. Keate, Mr. Carpue, and other medical gentlemen. M. Aldini, who was the nephew of the discoverer of this most interesting science, showed the powers of Galvanism to be far superior to those of any other stimulant. On the first application of the process to the face, the jaw of the deceased criminal began to quiver, and the adjoining muscles were horribly contorted, and one eye actually opened. In the subsequent part of the process, the right hand was raised and clenched, and the legs and thighs were set in motion. Mr. Pass, the beadle of the Surgeons’ Company, being officially present during the time of these extraordinary experiments, was so alarmed, that on his going home he died from fright.

An experiment of another description was made on a convict, named Patrick Redmond, who was hanged for a street-robbery, on the 24th of February, 1767, in order to bring him to life. It appears that the sufferer had hung twenty-eight minutes, when the mob rescued the body, and carried it to an appointed place, where a surgeon was in attendance to try the experiment of bronchotomy, which is an incision in the windpipe, and which, in less than six hours, produced the desired effect. A collection was made for the poor fellow, and interest made to obtain his pardon, for it will be remembered that the law says the condemned shall hang until he is dead; consequently, men who, like Redmond, recovered, are liable to be again hanged up until they are dead.

ROBERT EMMET.

EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.

A mind so sanguine as that of Emmet was not to be damped by an accidental disappointment: he collected his partisans, took another house in a lane in Thomas-street, and again commenced preparations for a popular rebellion. The ramifications of treason were easily extended through Ireland, where the discontent of the Catholics induced them to join in any extravagant scheme which promised them redress of grievances. Emmet had correspondents in every county; and the 23rd of July 1803 was the day appointed for a general rising, the signal of which was to be an attack upon Dublin.

The plan of surprising the metropolis was admirably adapted for its sanguinary purpose; but fortunately several disappointments took place, and Emmet was unable to proceed as he intended. In the confusion of such a moment the rebels deceived one another, and several hundred men, who came in from the country, returned home, being told that the rising was postponed, while those who remained were crowded into the depôt, and impeded the preparations. It was too late, however, to retract, or alter the intended movement, as Emmet expected the whole country to rise on that night. He therefore made the desperate attempt, and, with eighty followers, sallied out, at nine o’clock, into Thomas-street, and made towards the Castle, which he intended to surprise.

The experience of a few minutes showed him his madness and folly; for he quickly found himself without authority, in the midst of a ruffianly mob, who would neither obey nor accompany him; but who soon convinced him, that, though cowardly, they were brutal and sanguinary. When he had arrived at the market-house, his followers had diminished to eighteen, and as he was now convinced of his rashness, he prevented the discharge of a rocket which was to be the signal for the outposts to commence hostilities. This act saved the lives of hundreds, for the Wexford men, to the number of three hundred, had assembled on the Coal-quay, and other large bodies had met in the barley-fields behind Mountjoy-square; all of whom, in consequence, escaped uninjured, and were prevented from inflicting injury on others.

The rebel band in Thomas-street, meanwhile, largely increased in numbers; but, being without a leader, they remained confused and inactive. At this moment, however, an act of atrocity was perpetrated, sufficiently serious to exhibit the nature of the design. The coach of the lamented Lord Kilwarden, chief-justice of the Court of King’s Bench, containing his lordship, and his nephew and niece, the Rev. Mr. Wolfe, and Miss Wolfe, drove up, and was instantly surrounded. Much confusion prevailed, and his lordship received a deadly stab from the hand of an assassin which eventually deprived him of life: his nephew was dragged from the vehicle and ill-treated; but Miss Wolfe was borne to an opposite house in the arms of a lusty rebel, apparently more humane than his comrades.

The precise particulars of the murder of Lord Kilwarden are not known, and have always been the subject of controversy. By some it is alleged that it was the unpremeditated act of a ferocious rabble; by others, that he was mistaken for another person; but there is another account, which admits the mistake in the first instance, but subjoins other particulars, which appear sufficiently probable. It is related, that, in the year 1795, when his lordship was attorney-general, a number of young men, between the ages of fifteen and twenty years, were indicted for high treason, and upon the day appointed for their trial they appeared at the bar, wearing shirts with tuckers and open collars, in the manner usual with boys. When the chief-justice of the King’s Bench appeared in court to proceed with their trial, he remarked, “Well, Mr. Attorney, I suppose you are ready to go on with the trial of these tuckered traitors?” The attorney-general was quite prepared to proceed at once; but, disgusted with the remark which had been made, he said, “No, my lord, I am not ready;” and he added in a lower tone to the prisoners’ counsel, “If I have any power to save the lives of these boys, whose extreme youth I did not before observe, that man shall never have the gratification of passing sentence upon one of these tuckered traitors.” He performed his promise, and soon afterwards procured pardons for them all, upon condition of their going abroad. One of them, however, refused to accept the pardon upon the condition imposed; and being obstinate, he was tried, convicted, and executed. After his death, it is said that his relatives, readily listening to every misrepresentation which flattered their resentment, became persuaded that the attorney-general had selected him alone to suffer the utmost severity of the laws. One of these, a person named Shannon, was an insurgent of the 23rd July; and when Lord Kilwarden, hearing the popular cry of vengeance, exclaimed from his carriage, “It is I, Kilwarden, chief-justice of the King’s Bench,” Shannon immediately cried out, “Then you are the man I want,” and instantly plunged a pike into his lordship’s body.

Whatever may be the truth or falsehood of this story, his lordship’s death, there is no doubt, was the effect of the violence of the mob on this occasion; and it appears, that the fatal wound had scarcely been given, when a party of military reaching the spot, the people were put to flight, and his lordship’s body rescued from further violence, and conveyed to Werburgh-street.

Major Swan soon after arrived, and in his fury at the attack upon so good a man, exclaimed indignantly, that every rebel taken with arms in his hands ought to be instantly hanged; when his lordship, who still lived, turned round, and impressively exhorted him “to let no man suffer but by the laws of his country.” In a few minutes after, this great and good man expired.

For a few hours the rebels continued to skirmish with the military, and several men were killed. By morning, however, all appearance of rebellion had vanished, and large rewards were offered for the apprehension of the leader, Robert Emmet, who had escaped to the county of Wicklow, where he arrived in time to prevent a rising of the assembled rebels.

This unfortunate young man was every way an enthusiast; for his love was as extravagant as his patriotism. It appears that soon after his return from France he visited at the house of Curran, the celebrated Irish barrister, and became attached to that gentleman’s youngest daughter. Their affection was mutual, but unknown to Mr. Curran. Upon the failure of the insurrection Emmet might easily have effected his departure from the kingdom, had he attended solely to his safety; but, in the same spirit of romantic enthusiasm which distinguished his short career, he could not submit to leave the country to which he could never more return, without making an effort to have one final interview with the object of his unfortunate attachment, in order to receive her personal forgiveness for what he now considered as the deepest injury. With a view of obtaining this last gratification, he selected a place of concealment midway between Mr. Curran’s country-house and Dublin; but before the meeting took place he was arrested. On his person were found some papers, which showed that he corresponded with Mr. Curran’s family, in consequence of which that gentleman’s house was searched, and the letters there found were produced in evidence against him.

His trial came on, at the sessions-house, Green-street, Dublin, September the 19th, 1803, before Lord Norbury; and the evidence being conclusive, his conviction followed. When called upon in the usual way, before passing sentence, he addressed the Court as follows:—

“I am asked if I have anything to say why sentence of death should not be pronounced upon me. Was I to suffer only death, after being adjudged guilty, I should bow in silence; but a man in my situation has not only to combat with the difficulties of fortune, but also the difficulties of prejudice: the sentence of the law which delivers over his body to the executioner, consigns his character to obloquy. The man dies, but his memory lives; and that mine may not forfeit all claim to the respect of my countrymen, I use this occasion to vindicate myself from some of the charges advanced against me.

“I am charged with being an emissary of France:—’tis false! I am no emissary—I did not wish to deliver up my country to a foreign power, and least of all, to France. No! never did I entertain the idea of establishing French power in Ireland—God forbid! On the contrary, it is evident from the introductory paragraph of the Address of the Provisional Government, that every hazard attending an independent effort was deemed preferable to the more fatal risk of introducing a French army into the country. Small would be our claims to patriotism and to sense, and palpable our affectation of the love of liberty, if we were to encourage the profanation of our shores by a people who are slaves themselves, and the unprincipled and abandoned instruments of imposing slavery on others. If such an inference be drawn from any part of the proclamation of the Provisional Government, it calumniates their views, and is not warranted by the fact.—How could they speak of freedom to their countrymen? How assume such an exalted motive, and meditate the introduction of a power which has been the enemy of freedom in every part of the globe? Reviewing the conduct of France to other countries, could we expect better towards us? No! Let not, then, any man attaint my memory by believing that I could have hoped for freedom through the aid of France, and betrayed the sacred cause of liberty, by committing it to the power of her most determined foe: had I done so, I had not deserved to live; and dying with such a weight upon my character, I had merited the honest execration of that country which gave me birth, and to which I would have given freedom.

“Had I been in Switzerland, I would have fought against the French—in the dignity of freedom, I would have expired on the threshold of that country, and they should have entered it only by passing over my lifeless corpse. Is it, then, to be supposed, that I would be slow to make the same sacrifice to my native land? Am I, who lived but to be of service to my country, and who would subject myself to the bondage of the grave to give her independence—am I to be loaded with the foul and grievous calumny of being an emissary of France? My Lords, it may be part of the system of angry justice to bow a man’s mind by humiliation to meet the ignominy of the scaffold; but worse to me than the scaffold’s shame or the scaffold’s terrors, would be the imputation of having been the agent of French despotism and ambition; and while I have breath I will call upon my countrymen not to believe me guilty of so foul a crime against their liberties and their happiness.

“Though you, my lord, sit there a judge, and I stand here a culprit, yet you are but a man, and I am another; I have a right therefore to vindicate my character and motives from the aspersions of calumny; and as a man to whom fame is dearer than life, I will make the last use of that life in rescuing my name and my memory from the afflicting imputation of having been an emissary of France, or seeking her interference in the internal regulation of our affairs.

“Did I live to see a French army approach this country, I would meet it on the shore with a torch in one hand and a sword in the other—I would receive them with all the destruction of war! I would animate my countrymen to immolate them in their very boats; and before our native soil should be polluted by a foreign foe, if they succeeded in landing, I would burn every blade of grass before them, raze every house, contend to the last for every inch of ground, and the last spot on which the hope of freedom should desert me, that spot I would make my grave: what I cannot do, I leave a legacy to my country, because I feel conscious that my death were unprofitable, and all hope of liberty extinct, the moment a French army obtained a footing in this land. God forbid that I should see my country under the hands of a foreign power. If the French should come as a foreign enemy, Oh! my countrymen! meet them on the shore with a torch in one hand, a sword in the other: receive them with all the destruction of war; immolate them in their boats before our native soil shall be polluted by a foreign foe! If they proceed in landing, fight them on the strand, burn every blade of grass before them as they advance—raze every house; and if you are driven to the centre of your country, collect your provisions, your property, your wives, and your daughters; form a circle around them—fight while but two men are left; and when but one remains, let that man set fire to the pile, and release himself, and the families of his fallen countrymen, from the tyranny of France.

“My lamp of life is nearly expired—my race is finished: the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom. All I request, then, at parting from the world, is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph; for as no man, who knows my motives, dare vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them; let them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain undescribed, till other times and other men can do justice to my character.”

Judgment was then passed on him in the usual form, and he was ordered for execution. On his return to Newgate he drew up a statement of the insurrection, and the cause of its failure, which he requested might be sent to his brother, Thomas Addis, who was then at Paris.

The unfortunate young man, on the night before his execution, wrote to Mr. Curran and his son Robert, excusing himself for his conduct towards Miss Curran, and the firmness and regularity of the original hand-writing contain an affecting proof of the little influence which the approaching event exerted over his frame. The same enthusiasm which allured him to his destruction enabled him to support its utmost rigour. He met his fate with unostentatious fortitude; and although few could ever think of justifying his projects or regretting their failure, yet his youth, his talents, and the great respectability of his connexions, and the evident delusion of which he was the victim, have excited more general sympathy for his unfortunate end, and more forbearance towards his memory, than is usually extended to the errors or sufferings of political offenders.

Moore, the celebrated Irish bard, has lamented his fate in the following melody:—