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.

JOHN M‘CANELLY AND LUKE MORGAN.

EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.

In the confusion created by these proceedings, the youngest daughter, a girl of thirteen, whose presence of mind and courage were alike admirable, made her escape, and determined to procure some assistance to repel the attack which had been made; and running into the stable, she got astride the bare back of a horse, with the halter only in his mouth, and galloping over hedges and ditches, so as to avoid the house, from which she might be seen by the villains, she rode to Pulford, a village at a short distance, to inform her eldest brother of the danger to which their relations at the farm were exposed. Young Porter, with a friend named Craven, (whose conduct certainly was the very opposite of his name,) immediately resolved upon attacking the villains in turn, and, with the girl, set off at full speed to render such aid as lay in their power. On their reaching the farm, they discovered a fellow on the watch, whom they instantly killed with so little noise as to create no alarm, and then proceeding to the parlour, they found four others in the very act of placing old Mr. Porter on the fire, having deprived him of his clothes, in order to extort from him a confession of the depository of his money, his daughter being on her knees at their side praying for his life. The appearance of two strangers was sufficient to induce the villains at once to desist from their horrid purpose; and being now violently attacked, they were compelled to use their utmost exertions to defend themselves. A desperate conflict took place, but one of the robbers being felled senseless to the ground, and the others wounded and deprived of their arms, they jumped through the window and ran off.

They were instantly pursued by the young men, and the alarm having by this time been given, M‘Canelly and Morgan were secured on Chester bridge, having a silver tankard in their possession which they had stolen from Mr. Porter’s house. A fellow named Stanley, who turned out to be ringleader in this desperate attack, was subsequently apprehended on board a vessel bound for the West Indies, at Liverpool: and with M‘Canelly, Morgan, and a youth named Boyd, who had been left in the house, was committed to Chester jail for trial.

They were indicted at the ensuing assizes held in March, 1752, and after a long investigation, were found guilty and sentenced to death; but Boyd, in whose case some mitigating circumstances were proved, was respited, and his punishment eventually commuted to transportation for life.

On the night before the execution, Stanley slipped his irons, and got clear off from the jail, not without some suspicion that his escape was connived at by the keeper.

On the 25th May, 1752, M‘Canelly and Morgan were brought out of prison in order to be hanged. Their behaviour was as decent as could be expected from persons of their station. They both declared that Stanley, who escaped, was the sole contriver of the robbery. They died in the Catholic faith, and were attended by a priest of that persuasion.

ELIZABETH JEFFRIES AND JOHN SWAN.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

THE case of these offenders is one of the greatest atrocity. It appears that the female was the niece of a gentleman of respectability residing at Walthamstow, who, having acquired an ample fortune, and having no children, adopted his brother’s daughter, and made a will in her favour, bequeathing to her nearly his whole estate. The girl, however, returned her uncle’s kindness with ingratitude, and having heard him declare that he would alter his will on account of her bad behaviour, she determined to

Duel between Lord Mahon and the Duke

prevent his carrying his design to her detriment into execution by murdering him. She soon discovered her inability to complete this project single-handed, and she gained the assistance of her accomplice in the crime, John Swan, who was in the employment of her uncle, and with whom there is good reason to believe she was on terms of intimacy. They endeavoured to suborn a simple fellow named Matthews to assist them, but although the promise of a large reward at first staggered him, his terrors eventually steeled him against the temptations held out to him. The night of the 3rd July, 1751, was fixed upon for the completion of this villany; and at the trial, which took place at Chelmsford, before Mr. Justice Wright, on the 11th March, 1752, the following facts were proved:

Matthews having travelled from Yorkshire was accidentally met in Epping Forest by Mr. Jeffries, who gave him employment as an assistant to Swan, who was his gardener. After he had been at work only four days, he was sent up stairs by Miss Jeffries to wipe a chest of drawers, and she followed him, and asked him if he was willing to earn one hundred pounds? He answered that he was, “in an honest way;” on which she desired him to go to Swan. He accordingly joined him in the garden, and he offered him seven hundred pounds to murder their master. He acquiesced; and on his being dismissed two days afterwards, Swan gave him half a guinea to buy a brace of pistols; but having spent the money given to him, he was ordered to meet Miss Jeffries and Swan at Walthamstow on the Tuesday following, at ten o’clock at night, the object being then to carry out their intentions with respect to the murder.

When he arrived, he found the garden door on the latch; and going into the pantry, he hid himself behind a tub till about eleven o’clock, when Swan brought him some cold boiled beef. About twelve Miss Jeffries and Swan came to him; when the latter said, “Now it is time to knock the old miser, my master, on the head;” but Matthews relented and said, “I cannot find it in my heart to do it.” Miss Jeffries then immediately replied, “You may be d—d for a villain, for not performing your promise!” And Swan, who was provided with pistols, also loudly abused him, and said he had a mind to blow his brains out for the refusal. Swan then produced a book, and insisted that Matthews should swear that he would not discover what had passed: and he did so, with this reserve, “unless it was to save his own life.” Soon after this Matthews heard the report of a pistol; when getting out of the house by the back way, he crossed the ferry, and proceeded to Enfield Chase. Immediately afterwards Miss Jeffries appeared at the door of the house, and called out for assistance, and some of the neighbours going in, they found Mr. Jeffries dying, but they failed in discovering any thing which could lead to the supposition of any person having quitted the house. Violent suspicions in consequence arose, and Miss Jeffries was taken into custody, but no evidence arising to criminate her, she was discharged, and immediately administered to her uncle’s estate and took possession of his property. Renewed suspicions, however, were raised, and Matthews having been discovered, Jeffries and Swan were apprehended. Upon this testimony a verdict of Guilty was returned.

After conviction Elizabeth Jeffries made the following confession:—

“I, Elizabeth Jeffries, do freely and voluntarily confess that I first enticed and persuaded John Swan and Thomas Matthews to undertake and perpetrate the murder of my deceased uncle, which they both consented to do the first opportunity. That on the third day of July 1751, myself and John Swan (Matthews, to my knowledge, not being in the house) agreed to kill my said uncle; and, accordingly, after the maid was gone to bed, I went into John Swan’s room, and called him, and we went down together into the kitchen, and having assisted Swan in putting some pewter and other things into a sack, I said I could do no more, and then I went into my room; and afterwards Swan came up, as I believe, and went into my uncle’s room and shot him; which done, he came to my door and rapped. Accordingly I went out in my shift, and John Swan opened the door and let me out. That done, I alarmed the neighbourhood. And I do solemnly declare that I do not know that any person was concerned in the murder of my deceased uncle but myself and John Swan; for that Matthews did not come to my uncle’s house the day before, or night in which the murder was committed as I know of.

“Elizabeth Jeffries.”

“Taken and acknowledged March 12, 1752.”

Swan for some time expressed great resentment at Miss Jeffries’s confession; but when he learned that he was to be hung in chains he began to relent, and seemed at length to behold his crime in its true light of enormity.

On the day of execution the convicts left the prison at four in the morning, Miss Jeffries being placed in a cart and Swan on a sledge. The unfortunate woman repeatedly fainted on her way to the gallows; and having fallen into a fit, had not recovered when she was turned off. The execution took place near the six-mile-stone on Epping Forest on the 28th of March 1752; and the body of Miss Jeffries having been delivered to her friends for interment, the gibbet was removed to another part of the forest, where Swan was hung in chains.

DOCTOR ARCHIBALD CAMERON.

EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.

THE Scottish rebellion had been suppressed nearly eight years, and England had, during that time, enjoyed internal peace, when Doctor Cameron fell a victim to his exertions in the cause of the Pretender. Doctor Cameron was the brother of the chief of the Highland clan of the same name; and it appears that having studied successively at Glasgow, Edinburgh, Paris, and Leyden, he returned to Scotland admirably qualified to practise the profession of medicine, to which he had been brought up. Although educated in a manner which rendered him fit to mix in the best society of the day, he took up his residence in the district of Lochaber, where, in a short time, he was married to a lady of respectable family. Universally esteemed, and beloved by his neighbours for his zealous and effectual services in the civilisation of the manners of his countrymen, and for his generous conduct in the attendance of the sick poor, he was residing in the bosom of his family, when the rebellion of 1745 broke out, which laid waste the country, and introduced misery and wretchedness to many a happy home. The chief of the Camerons was a zealous friend to Prince Charles; and although he firmly believed that any attempt at the restoration of the Stuart family to the throne of England must prove abortive, yet being pledged to assist his prince, he generously sacrificed his own feelings, and appeared in arms at the head of nearly twelve hundred men. Thus arrayed he sent for his brother to undertake the medical charge of his troops; but although the doctor urged every argument which could be raised against so rash an undertaking as that which was proposed, he was at length compelled to forego all further resistance, and to attend the army in his professional capacity, although he absolutely refused to accept any commission. Thus circumstanced, Doctor Cameron was remarkable throughout the whole advance and retreat of the rebel army for the humanity and assiduity with which he attended all, whether friend or foe, who required his aid. And when the battle of Culloden put an end to all the hopes of the Pretender, he and his brother escaped to France in a vessel belonging to that kingdom. While in France, the doctor was appointed physician to a French regiment, of which his brother obtained the command; but the latter dying about two years afterwards, he joined Ogilvie’s regiment in Flanders.

In the meantime proceedings had been taken against the rebel leaders in England, many of whom had forfeited their lives to the offended laws of their country, and by an act of attainder passed in the year 1746, for the effectual punishment of persons concerned in the rebellion, the life of Doctor Cameron was declared to be forfeited. In the years 1750 and 1752, subscriptions were entered into in Scotland for the support of those persons who had escaped into foreign countries, and Doctor Cameron having already more than once visited his native country, finally in the latter year came over to Scotland, for the purpose of procuring some permanent relief for himself and his suffering fellow-countrymen abroad. Rumours were soon set afloat that he was in Scotland, and a detachment of Lord George Beaufort’s regiment was sent in search of him. Being made acquainted with the vicinity of his hiding-place, but being unable for a considerable time to discover its exact locality, the soldiers were unable to secure their prisoner; but at length perceiving a little girl, who appeared to be acting as a scout, they followed her until she met a boy, who was evidently employed in a similar capacity, to whom they observed that she whispered something. They directly pursued the boy, but being unable to reach him, they presented their guns, threatening to shoot him if he did not immediately stop. Having then secured his person, they menaced him with instant death if he did not inform them of the hiding-place of Dr. Cameron. The boy pointed to the house where he was concealed, and the unfortunate gentleman was directly placed under arrest, and was then immediately sent to Edinburgh, and from thence subsequently to London, where he was placed in confinement in the Tower. Upon his examination before the Privy Council, he denied that he was the person mentioned in the Act of Attainder; but being brought to the bar of the Court of King’s Bench on the 17th of May, he acknowledged that he was the person who had been attainted; on which Lord Chief Justice Lee pronounced sentence in the following terms:—“You, Archibald Cameron, of Lochiel, in that part of Great Britain called Scotland, must be removed from hence to his Majesty’s prison of the Tower of London, from whence you came, and on Thursday, the 7th of June next, your body to be drawn on a sledge to the place of execution, there to be hanged, but not till you are dead,—your bowels to be taken out, your body quartered, your head cut off, and affixed at the king’s disposal,—and the Lord have mercy on your soul!”

After his commitment to the Tower he begged to see his wife, who was then at Lille, in Flanders; and, on her arrival, the meeting between them was inexpressibly affecting. The unfortunate lady wept incessantly; and on her going to take her final leave of her husband, on the morning of execution, she was attacked with fits, which left her only after grief had deprived her of her senses.

On the morning of the 7th June, 1753, the unhappy man was carried to Tyburn to be executed. He was dressed in a light-coloured coat, red waistcoat and breeches, and a new bag-wig. He looked much at the spectators in the houses and balconies, as well as at those in the street, and bowed to several persons with whom he was acquainted. He was attended at the scaffold by a clergyman of the Church of England; and before his being turned off, he declared that he was at peace with all men, and that he died firmly hoping for the forgiveness of his sins through the merits of his blessed Redeemer. When his body had hung during twenty minutes it was cut down, and the heart was taken out and burned, but the sentence was not further fulfilled. On the following Sunday, his remains were interred in a large vault in the Savoy chapel.

Dr. Cameron, it appears, was the last person who suffered punishment on account of connection with the rebellion of Scotland; and of all those who were concerned in it, probably he least of all deserved the unhappy fate which befel him. The very small, and apparently unwilling part which he took in the proceedings, should have screened him from condign punishment, more especially at a period when all appearance of discontent having vanished, no further harm was to be apprehended.

CAPTAIN JOHN LANCEY.

EXECUTED FOR BURNING HIS SHIP.

A ship was now fitted out, and bound for Maryland: goods to a large amount were shipped on board, but re-landed before the vessel sailed, and a lading of brick-bats taken in by way of ballast; and the vessel had not been long at sea before a hole was bored in her side, and a cask of combustible ingredients set on fire with a view to destroy her. The fire no sooner appeared than the captain called to some convicted transports, then in the hold, to inquire if they had fired the vessel; but this appears to have been only a feint to conceal the real design. The boat being hoisted out, all the crew got safely on shore; and then Lancey repaired immediately to Benson to inform him of what had passed. The latter instantly despatched him to a proctor, before whom he swore that the ship had accidentally taken fire, and that it was impossible to prevent the consequences which followed.

The crime was soon afterwards discovered, however, and Lancey was taken into custody; but, secure in his anticipation of protection from Benson, he did not express much concern at his situation. His employer, in the mean time, was perfectly aware of the consequences which would fall upon him, and fled to avoid them; and his unhappy dupe being brought to trial, was capitally convicted, and received sentence of death. He subsequently lay in prison for about four months, during which time he pursued his devotional exercises with the utmost regularity, and was hanged on the 7th June, 1754, at Execution Dock, in the 27th year of his age.

NICOL BROWN.

EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS WIFE.

After having been drinking at an alehouse in the Canongate, he went home at about eleven at night, in a high degree of intoxication. His wife was also much in liquor; but, though equally criminal himself, he was exasperated against her, and struck her so violently that she fell from her chair. The noise of her fall alarmed the neighbours; but, as frequent quarrels had happened between them, no immediate notice was taken of the affair. In about fifteen minutes, the wife was heard to cry out “Murder! help! fire! the rogue is murdering me!” and the neighbours, now apprehending real danger, knocked at the door; but no person being in the house but Brown and his wife, admission was refused. The woman, meantime, was heard to groan most shockingly, and a person looking through the keyhole, saw Brown holding his wife to the fire. He was called on to open the door, but refused to do so; and the candle being extinguished, and the woman still continuing her cries, the door was at length forced open. When the neighbours went in, they beheld her a most shocking spectacle, lying half naked before the fire, and her flesh in part broiled. In the interim, Brown had got into bed, pretending to be asleep, and when spoken to, appeared ignorant of the transaction. The woman, though so dreadfully burnt, retained her senses, and accused her husband of the murder, and told in what manner it was perpetrated. She survived till the following morning, still continuing in the same tale, and then expired in the utmost agony.

The murderer was now seized, and being lodged in the jail of Edinburgh, was brought to trial and capitally convicted.

On August the 14th, 1754, he was attended to the place of execution at Edinburgh by the Rev. Dr. Brown; but to the last he denied having been guilty of the crime for which he suffered.

After execution he was hung in chains; but the body was stolen from the gibbet, and thrown into a pond, where being found, it was exposed as before. In a few days, however, it was again stolen; and though a reward was offered for its discovery, it was not again found.

EDWARD MORGAN.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

“The Gloucester Journal,” of the year 1757, describes the property consumed by fire on this melancholy occasion to have been “the dwelling-house, a barn full of corn, a beast-house, with twelve head of cattle in it.”

It was at first conjectured that the unfortunate people had perished in the conflagration. Their murdered bodies, it is too true, were consumed to ashes; but the manner of their death was subsequently proved, partly by what the concealed apprentice overheard, but chiefly from the murderer’s own confession. Morgan was executed at Glamorgan, April the 6th, 1757.

The Rev. JOHN GRIERSON and the Rev. Mr. WILKINSON

TRANSPORTED FOR UNLAWFULLY PERFORMING THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY.

One of the most notorious of these scandalous officials was a man of the name of George Keith, a Scotch minister, who, being in desperate circumstances, set up a marriage-office in May-Fair, and subsequently in the Fleet, and carried on the same trade which has since been practised in front of the blacksmith’s anvil at Gretna Green. This man’s wedding-business was so extensive and so scandalous, that the Bishop of London found it necessary to excommunicate him. It has been said of this person and “his journeyman,” that one morning, during the Whitsun holidays, they united a greater number of couples than had been married at any ten churches within the bills of mortality. Keith lived till he was eighty-nine years of age, and died in 1735. The Rev. Dr. Gaynham, another infamous functionary, was familiarly called the Bishop of Hell.

“Many of the early Fleet weddings,” observes Mr. Burn, “were really performed at the chapel of the Fleet; but as the practice extended, it was found more convenient to have other places, within the Rules of the Fleet, (added to which, the Warden was forbidden, by act of parliament, to suffer them,) and, thereupon, many of the Fleet parsons and tavern-keepers in the neighbourhood fitted up a room in their respective lodgings or houses as a chapel! The parsons took the fees, allowing a portion to the plyers, &c.; and the tavern-keepers, besides sharing in the money paid, derived a profit from the sale of liquors which the wedding-party drank. In some instances, the tavern-keepers kept a parson on the establishment, at a weekly salary of twenty shillings! Most of the taverns near the Fleet kept their own registers, in which (as well as in their own books) the parsons entered the weddings.” Some of these scandalous members of the highest of all professions were in the habit of hanging signs out of their windows with the words “Weddings performed cheap here.”

Keith, of whom we have already spoken, seems to have been a bare-faced profligate; but there is something exceedingly affecting in the stings of conscience and forlorn compunction of one Walter Wyatt, a Fleet parson, in one of whose pocket-books of 1716 are the following secret (as he intended them to be) outpourings of remorse:—

“Give to every man his due, and learn y^e way of Truth.”

“This advice cannot be taken by those that are concerned in y^e Fleet marriages; not so much as y^e Priest can do y^e thing y^t it is just and right there, unless he designs to starve. For by lying, bullying, and swearing, to extort money from the silly and unwary people, you advance your business and get y^e pelf, which always wastes like snow in sunshiney day.”

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. The marrying in the Fleet is the beginning of eternal woe.”

“If a clerk or plyer tells a lye, you must vouch it to be as true as y^e Gospel, and if disputed, you must affirm with an oath to y^e truth of a downright damnable falsehood.—Virtus laudatur & alget^r.”[9]

“May God forgive me what is past, and give me grace to forsake such a wicked place, where truth and virtue can’t take place unless you are resolved to starve.”

But this very man, whose sense of his own disgrace was so deep and apparently so contrite, was one of the most notorious, active, and money-making of all the Fleet parsons. His practice was chiefly in taverns, and he has been known to earn nearly sixty pounds in less than a month.

With such facilities for marriage, and such unprincipled ministers, it may easily be imagined that iniquitous schemes of all sorts were perpetrated under the name of Fleet weddings. The parsons were ready, for a bribe, to make false entries in their registers, to ante-date weddings, to give fictitious certificates, and to marry persons who would declare only the initials of their names. Thus, if a spinster or widow in debt desired to cheat her creditors by pretending to have been married before the debt was contracted, she had only to present herself at one of the marriage-houses in the Fleet, and, upon payment of a small additional fee to the clergyman, a man could instantly be found on the spot to act as bridegroom for a few shillings, and the worthless chaplain could find a blank place in his Register for any year desired, so that there was no difficulty in making the necessary record. They would also, for a consideration, obliterate any given entry. The sham bridegrooms, under different names, were married over and over again, with the full knowledge of the clerical practitioners. If, in other instances, a libertine desired to possess himself of any young and unsuspecting woman, who would not yield without being married, nothing was easier than to get the service performed at the Fleet without even the specification of names; so that the poor girl might with impunity be shaken off at pleasure. Or if a parent found it necessary to legitimatise his natural children, a Fleet parson could be procured to give a marriage-certificate at any required date. In fact, all manner of people presented themselves for marriage at the unholy dens in the Fleet taverns,—runaway sons and daughters of peers,—Irish adventurers and foolish rich widows,—clodhoppers and ladies from St. Giles’s,—footmen and decayed beauties,—soldiers and servant-girls,—boys in their teens and old women of seventy,—discarded mistresses, “given away” by their former admirers to pitiable and sordid bridegrooms,—night-wanderers and intoxicated apprentices,—men and women having already wives and husbands,—young heiresses conveyed thither by force, and compelled, in terrorem, to be brides,—and common labourers and female paupers dragged by parish-officers to the profane altar, stained by the relics of drunken orgies, and reeking with the fumes of liquor and tobacco! Nay, it sometimes happened that the “contracting parties” would send from houses of vile repute for a Fleet parson, who could readily be found to attend even in such places and under such circumstances, and there unite the couple in matrimony!

Of what were called the “Parish Weddings” it is impossible to speak in terms of sufficient reprobation. Many of the churchwardens and overseers of that day were in the frequent practice of “getting up” marriages in order to throw their paupers on neighbouring parishes. For example, in the Daily Post of the 4th July, 1741, is the following paragraph:—

“On Saturday last the churchwardens for a certain parish in the city, in order to remove a load from their own shoulders, gave forty shillings, and paid the expense of a Fleet marriage, to a miserable blind youth, known by the name of Ambrose Tally, who plays on the violin in Moorfields, in order to make a settlement on the wife and future family in Shoreditch parish. To secure their point they sent a parish-officer to see the ceremony performed. One cannot but admire the ungenerous proceeding of this city parish, as well as their unjustifiable abetting and encouraging an irregularity so much and so justly complained of, as these Fleet matches. Invited and uninvited were a great number of poor wretches, in order to spend the bride’s parish fortune.”

In the Grub Street Journal for 1735, is the following letter, faithfully describing, says Mr. Burn, the treachery and low habits of the Fleet parsons:—

“Sir,—There is a very great evil in this town, and of dangerous consequence to our sex, that has never been suppressed, to the great prejudice and ruin of many hundreds of young people every year, which I beg some of your learned heads to consider of, and consult of proper ways and means to prevent for the future. I mean the ruinous marriages that are practised in the liberty of the Fleet and thereabouts, by a set of drunken swearing parsons, with their myrmidons, that wear black coats, and pretend to be clerks and registers to the Fleet. These ministers of wickedness ply about Ludgate-hill, pulling and forcing people to some pedling ale-house or a brandy-shop to be married, even on a Sunday stopping them as they go to church, and almost tearing their clothes off their backs. To confirm the truth of these facts I will give you a case or two which lately happened.

“Since Midsummer last a young lady of birth and fortune was deluded and forced from her friends, and, by the assistance of a wry-necked swearing parson, married to an atheistical wretch, whose life is a continued practice of all manner of vice and debauchery. And since the ruin of my relation, another lady of my acquaintance had like to have been trepanned in the following manner. This lady had appointed to meet a gentlewoman at the Old Playhouse in Drury-lane, but extraordinary business prevented her coming. Being alone when the play was done, she bade a boy call a coach for the city. One dressed like a gentleman helps her into it, and jumps in after her. ‘Madam,’ says he, ‘this coach was called for me, and since the weather is so bad, and there is no other, I beg leave to bear you company. I am going into the city, and will set you down wherever you please.’ The lady begged to be excused; but he bade the coachman drive on. Being come to Ludgate-hill, he told her his sister, who waited his coming but five doors up the court, would go with her in two minutes. He went, and returned with his pretended sister, who asked her to step in one minute, and she would wait upon her in the coach. Deluded with the assurance of having his sister’s company, the poor lady foolishly followed her into the house, when instantly the sister vanished, and a tawny fellow in a black coat and black wig appeared. ‘Madam, you are come in good time; the Doctor was just a-going.’—‘The Doctor!’ says she, horribly frighted, fearing it was a madhouse: ‘what has the Doctor to do with me?’—‘To marry you to that gentleman. The Doctor has waited for you these three hours, and will be payed by you or that gentleman before you go!’—‘That gentleman,’ says she, recovering herself, ‘is worthy a better fortune than mine,’ and begged hard to be gone. But Doctor Wryneck swore she should be married, or if she would not, he would still have his fee, and register the marriage from that night. The lady, finding she could not escape without money or a pledge, told them she liked the gentleman so well, she would certainly meet him to-morrow night, and gave them a ring as a pledge, which, says she, ‘was my mother’s gift on her death-bed, enjoining that if ever I married it should be my wedding-ring.’ By which cunning contrivance she was delivered from the black Doctor and his tawny crew. Some time after this I went with this lady and her brother in a coach to Ludgate-hill in the day-time, to see the manner of their picking up people to be married. As soon as our coach stopped near Fleet Bridge, up comes one of the myrmidons. ‘Madam,’ says he, ‘you want a parson?’—‘Who are you?’ says I.—‘I am the clerk and register of the Fleet.’—‘Show me the chapel.’ ‘At which comes a second, desiring me to go along with him. Says he, ‘That fellow will carry you to a pedling alehouse.’ Says a third, ‘Go with me; he wilt carry you to a brandy-shop.’ In the interim comes the Doctor. ‘Madam,’ says he, ‘I’ll do your job for you presently!’—‘Well, gentlemen,’ says I, ‘since you can’t agree, and I can’t be married quietly, I’ll put it off ‘till another time:’ so drove away. Learned sirs, I wrote this in regard to the honour and safety of my own sex: and if for our sakes you will be so good as to publish it, correcting the errors of a woman’s pen, you will oblige our whole sex, and none more than, sir,

“Your constant reader and admirer, “Virtuous.”

Such are but a few of the iniquities practised by the ministers of the Fleet. Similar transactions were carried on at the Chapel in May Fair, the Mint in the Borough, the Savoy, and other places about London; until the public scandal became so great, especially in consequence of the marriage at the Fleet of the Hon. Henry Fox with Georgiana Caroline, eldest daughter of the Duke of Richmond, that at length,—not, however, without much and zealous opposition,—a Marriage Bill was passed, enacting that any person solemnising matrimony in any other than a church or public chapel, without banns or license, should, on conviction, be adjudged guilty of felony, and be transported for fourteen years, and that all such marriages should be void. This act was to take effect from the 25th of March, 1754.

Upon the passing of this law, Keith, the parson who has already been alluded to, published a pamphlet entitled, “Observations on the Act for Preventing Clandestine Marriages.” To this he prefixed his portrait. The following passages are highly characteristic of the man:—

“ ‘Happy is the wooing that is not long a-doing,’ is an old proverb, and a very true one; but we shall have no occasion for it after the 25th day of March next, when we are commanded to read it backwards, and from that period (fatal indeed to Old England!) we must date the declension of the numbers of the inhabitants of England.”—“As I have married many thousands, and consequently have on those occasions seen the humour of the lower class of people, I have often asked the married pair how long they had been acquainted; they would reply, some more, some less, but the generality did not exceed the acquaintance of a week, some only of a day, half a day,” &c.—“Another inconveniency which will arise from this act will be, that the expense of being married will be so great, that few of the lower class of people can afford; for I have often heard a Fleet-parson say, that many have come to be married when they have but had half-a-crown in their pockets, and sixpence to buy a pot of beer, and for which they have pawned some of their clothes.”—“I remember once on a time, I was at a public-house at Radcliff, which then was full of sailors and their girls; there was fiddling, piping, jigging, and eating: at length, one of the tars starts up, and says, ‘D—n ye, Jack, I’ll be married just now; I will have my partner, and....’ The joke took, and in less than two hours ten couple set out for the Fleet. I staid their return. They returned in coaches, five women in each coach, the tars, some running before, others riding on the coach-box, and others behind. The cavalcade being over, the couples went up into an upper room, where they concluded the evening with great jollity. The next time I went that way I called on my landlord and asked him concerning this marriage adventure. He at first stared at me, but recollecting, he said those things were so frequent that he hardly took any notice of them; for, added he, it is a common thing when a fleet comes in, to have two or three hundred marriages in a week’s time, among the sailors.” He humorously concludes, “If the present Act in the form it now stands should (which I am sure is impossible) be of service to my country, I shall then have the satisfaction of having been the occasion of it, because the compilers thereof have done it with a pure design of suppressing my Chapel, which makes me the most celebrated man in this kingdom, though not the greatest.”

The passing of the Marriage Act put a stop to the marriages at May Fair; but the day before the Act came into operation (Lady-day 1754)[10] sixty-one couple were married there.[11]

It would exceed the limits of this brief sketch were we to give the official history of the different scandalous ministers who thus disgraced themselves, and impiously trifled with one of our most sacred institutions. That some of these wretched adventurers were merely pretended clergymen is certain; but it cannot be denied that many of them were actually in holy orders.

Of this latter class were Grierson and Wilkinson, the subjects of our present notice; and notwithstanding the heavy penalties imposed by the statute, they were not to be deterred from continuing the dangerous and unlawful traffic in which they had been engaged. Wilkinson, who was the brother of a celebrated comedian of the day, it would appear, was the owner of a chapel in the Savoy, and Grierson was his assistant; and their proceedings having at length become too notorious to be passed over, proceedings were instituted against them. Grierson was first apprehended, and his employer sought safety in flight; but supposing that he could not be deemed guilty of any offence, as he had not actually performed the marriage ceremony, a duty which he left to his journeyman, he returned to his former haunts. It was not long before he was secured, however, and having been convicted with Grierson, they were shipped off as convicts together to the colonies, in the year 1757.

WILLIAM PAGE.

EXECUTED FOR HIGHWAY ROBBERY.

To return, however, to the ordinary events of his life. It appears, that his cousin having given him employment in his shop, his vanity prevented him from bestowing that attention on his business to which it was entitled; and his extravagance being checked by his relation, who stopped his pocket-money in order to curb his refined notions, he had recourse to plunder to supply his necessities. Money being repeatedly missed from the till, and all attempts to discover the thief among the servants having failed, suspicion at length rested on our hero; and his guilt having been distinctly proved he was dismissed from his situation forthwith. An effort which he made to conciliate his relation after this proved ineffectual; and his father, who had learned the nature of his irregularities, having refused to render him any assistance, he at length journeyed to York, and there joined a company of strolling players. His exertions in his new capacity were not unsuccessful; but at length attempting to play Cato while in a state of intoxication, his character in the play and his condition of person were found to agree so badly, that he was compelled to be carried from the stage, and was dismissed from his engagement. He afterwards went to Scarborough, where his necessities compelled him to accept a situation as livery-servant with a gentleman; but his master having been robbed on his way to town, he formed a notion that highway robbery was an easy and profitable mode of living; and determined that so soon as he should have the means of starting in the profession, he would become a “gentleman of the road.” Quitting his master at the end of twelve months, he became acquainted with a woman of abandoned character, in conjunction with whom he took lodgings near Charing Cross, and he then commenced highwayman. His first expedition was on the Kentish road; and meeting the Canterbury stage near Shooter’s-hill, he robbed the passengers of watches and money to the amount of about thirty pounds; and then riding through great part of Kent to take an observation of the cross-roads, he returned to London. He now took lodgings near Grosvenor-square, and frequenting billiard-tables won a little money, which, added to his former stock, prevented his having recourse to the highway again for a considerable time; but at length he met with a gambler who was more expert than himself, and stripped him of all his money. He then again sought the road as a means of subsistence. His exertions were for some time fruitless; but at length meeting with a handsome booty, he was emboldened by his success; and taking handsome lodgings he soon gained the friendship of some young men of fashion. His next object was to improve his mind and person; and having gained some knowledge, by dint of impudence and through a pleasing exterior he got introduced into decent society.

By this time, he had drawn, from his own observation and for his private use, a most curious map of the roads twenty miles round London; and, driving in a phaeton and pair, he was not suspected for a highwayman.

In his excursions for robbery he used to dress in a laced or embroidered frock, and wear his hair tied behind; but when at a distance from London, he would turn into some unfrequented place, and, having disguised himself in other clothes, with a grizzle or black wig, and saddled one of his horses, he would ride to the main road, and commit a robbery. This done, he hastened back to the carriage, resumed his former dress, and drove to town again. He was frequently cautioned to be on his guard against a highwayman, who might meet and rob him: “No, no,” said he, “he cannot do it a second time, unless he robs me of my coat and shirt, for he has taken all my money already.”

He had once an escape of a very remarkable kind:—Having robbed a gentleman near Putney, some persons came up at the juncture, and pursued him so closely that he was obliged to cross the Thames for his security. In the interim, some haymakers crossing the field where Page’s carriage was left, found and carried off his gay apparel; and the persons who had pursued him, meeting them, charged them with being accomplices in the robbery. A report of this affair being soon spread, Page heard of it, and throwing his clothes into a well, he went back almost naked, claimed the carriage as his own, and declared that the men had stripped him, and thrown him into a ditch. All the parties now went before a justice of the peace; and the maker of the carriage appearing, and declaring that it was the property of Mr. Page, the poor haymakers were committed for trial; but obtained their liberty after the next assizes, as Page did not appear to prosecute.

After this, he made no farther use of the phaeton as a disguise for his robberies; but it served him occasionally on parties of pleasure, which he sometimes took with a girl whom he had then in keeping.

Page was passionately fond of play, and his practice this way was occasionally attended with good fortune. One night he went to the masquerade with only ten guineas, but joining a party at cards, he won above five hundred pounds; but this money was no sooner in his possession, than a lady, most magnificently dressed, made some advances to him, on which he put the most favourable construction. After some conversation, she told him that her mother was a widow who would not admit of his visits; but that possibly he might prevail on her attendant, whose husband was a reputable tradesman, to give them admission to her house.

Page, who had repeatedly heard the other address her by the title of “My lady,” became very importunate with the good woman to grant this favour; and at length, all parties having agreed, the servants were called. Page handed the lady and her attendant into a coach, on which was the coronet of a viscountess. Two footmen with flambeaux got up behind, and the coachman was ordered to drive home. The “home” which they reached, however, was a brothel; and on the lady quitting him in the morning, he found that she had been dexterous enough to rob him of his pocket-book and its contents, which no doubt more than compensated her for the favour which she had bestowed upon him.

The road and the gaming-table were now his only means of support, and he found a fitting companion in his proceedings in the person of an old schoolfellow named Darwell, in conjunction with whom, in the course of three years, he committed upwards of three hundred robberies. At length, however, their iniquitous proceedings caused an active search to be made for them; and Darwell being apprehended, “peached” upon his companion, and disclosed the places where it was most likely that he would be found.

The consequence was, that Page was apprehended at the Golden Lion, near Hyde Park, when three loaded pistols were found on him, with powder, balls, a wig to disguise himself, and the correct map of the roads round London which we have already mentioned.

He was sent to Newgate, and an advertisement inserted in the papers, requesting such persons as had been robbed to attend his re-examination but he denied all that was alleged against him; and, as he was always disguised when he committed any robbery, no person present could identify his person.

He was tried at length on suspicion of robbing Mr. Webb in Belfourd Lane, but acquitted for want of evidence; and after this he was tried at Hertford, but again acquitted for a like reason.

From Hertford he was removed to Maidstone jail, and being tried at Rochester for robbing Captain Farrington on Blackheath, he was capitally convicted, and received sentence of death. After conviction he acknowledged his guilt, yet exerted himself in the most strenuous manner to procure a pardon. He wrote to a nobleman with this view, and also sent a letter to a gentleman with whom he had lived as a servant, begging his interest that he might be sent to America as a foot-soldier; but his endeavours proved fruitless, and he was ordered for execution.

This extraordinary malefactor suffered at Maidstone on the 6th of April, 1758.

EUGENE ARAM.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

“Objections are made to the admission of Eugene Aram into the Biographia Britannica, and the exclusion of Bishop Atherton; but it appears to me that the remarks on this subject are far from being just. The insertion of Aram is objected to because he was a man of bad principles, and terminated his life on the gallows; but it should be remembered that it was never understood that in the Biographia Britannica the lives of virtuous men only were to be recorded. In the old edition are the lives of several persons who ended their days by the hands of the executioner. Bonner was not a virtuous man, and yet was very properly inserted, as well as Henry Cuff, who was executed at Tyburn in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. As to Eugene Aram, it is truly said of him in the Biographia Britannica, in the article objected to, that the progress he made in literature, allowing for the little instruction he had received, may justly be considered as astonishing; and that his powers of mind were uncommonly great cannot reasonably be questioned. Eugene Aram possessed talents and acquisitions that might have classed him among the most respectable of human characters, if his moral qualities had been equal to his intellectual. It was certainly the extraordinary talents and acquirements of Eugene Aram which occasioned his introduction into the Biographia; and I know that by persons of undoubted taste and judgment, the account of him in that work has been thought a curious and interesting article. His singular defence alone was well worthy of being preserved in such a work.

“With respect to Bishop Atherton, he never had the least claim to insertion in such a work as the Biographia Britannica, and was therefore very properly omitted in the new edition. He was not in the least distinguished for genius or learning; his merely being a bishop could give him no just pretensions, and still less the unnatural crime for which he suffered. The friends of Bishop Atherton say that his reputation was suspected to have been destroyed, and his catastrophe effected, more by the contrivance of a party than by the aggravated guilt with which he was charged. If this were perfectly just, which however may be reasonably questioned, it would not give Bishop Atherton the least claim to insertion in the Biographia Britannica. Aram was inserted on account of his uncommon talents and learning; but Atherton, who was not distinguished for either, never had the least pretension to be recorded in such a work.”

The talents and abilities of this criminal, therefore, seem to be undoubted; but that a man possessing powers of intellect so great should have been guilty of such a crime as that which he committed, seems most extraordinary.

Within the second peculiarity of the case will very properly come the narrative of the life of its hero, as well as the circumstances attending the commission of the crime and the discovery of its perpetrator. A succinct description of the case will probably be more intelligible than a detail of all the exceedingly minute circumstances by which it was surrounded.

Eugene Aram was born at the village of Netherdale, in Yorkshire, in the year 1704, of an ancient and highly respectable family; but although it is shown by the chronicles that one of his ancestors served the office of high sheriff in the reign of Edward the Third, it appears that at the time of the birth of Eugene, the vicissitudes of fortune had so far reduced its rank, that his father was compelled to support himself and his children by working as a gardener in the house of Sir Edward Blackett; although in that situation he was well employed and highly respected. In his infancy, Aram’s parents removed to the village of Shelton, near Newby, in the same county; and when about six years old, his father, having saved a small sum of money out of his weekly earnings, purchased a small cottage at Bondgate, near Rippon. The first indications of that singular genius which afterwards displayed itself in so remarkable a manner in our hero, were given while his father was in the service of Sir Edward. Eugene was employed as an attendant upon that gentleman, and he early displayed a taste for literature, which was fostered and supported by his indulgent master. His disposition was solitary, and every leisure hour which presented itself to him was devoted to retirement and study; and in the employment which good fortune had bestowed upon him, ample opportunities were afforded him of following the bent of his inclinations. He applied himself chiefly to mathematics, and at the age of sixteen he had acquired a considerable proficiency in them; but his kind and indulgent master dying about this time, he was employed by his brother, Mr. Christopher Blackett, a merchant in London, who took him into his service as book-keeper. This was an occupation ill suited to his desires, and an attack of the small pox having rendered his return to Yorkshire necessary, he did not afterwards resume his employment in London, but at the invitation of his father he remained at Newby, to pursue his studies. He now found that the study of mathematics possessed but few charms; and the politer subjects of poetry, history, and antiquities, next engaged his attention. Every day served to increase the store of knowledge which he possessed, and his fame as a scholar having now extended to his native place, he was invited to take charge of a school there. The means of study and of profit appeared to him to be thus united, and he immediately accepted the offer which was made; and after a short time he married a young woman of the village, to whom he appeared tenderly attached. To this marriage, however, which proved unhappy, he attributed all his subsequent misfortunes; but whether with truth or not, the course of the narrative does not distinctly disclose. His deficiency in the learned languages now struck him, and he immediately set about conquering the difficulties which presented themselves in this new field of research; and so rapid was his progress, that ere a year had passed, he was able to read with ease the less difficult of the Latin and Greek historians and poets. In the year 1734 an opportunity was afforded him of adding a knowledge of the Hebrew language to his list of acquirements; for in that year Mr. William Norton, of Knaresborough, a gentleman of great talents, who had conceived a strong attachment towards him, invited him to his house, and afforded him the means necessary for pursuing its study. He continued in his situation in Yorkshire until the year 1745, when he again visited London, and accepted an engagement in the school of the Rev. Mr. Plainblanc, in Piccadilly, as usher in Latin and writing; and, with this gentleman’s assistance, he acquired the knowledge of the French language. He was afterwards employed as an usher and tutor in several different parts of England; in the course of which, through his own exertions, he became acquainted with heraldry and botany; and so great was his perseverance, that he also learned the Chaldaic and Arabic languages. His next step was to investigate the Celtic in all its dialects; and, having begun to form collections, and make comparisons between the Celtic, the English, the Latin, the Greek, and the Hebrew, and found a great affinity between them, he resolved to proceed through all those languages, and to form a comparative lexicon. But, amid these learned labours and inquiries, it appears that he committed a crime which could not naturally have been expected from a man of so studious a turn, as the inducement which led him to it was merely the gain of wealth, of which the scholar is seldom covetous.

On the 8th of February 1745, in conjunction with a man named Richard Houseman, he committed the murder for which his life was afterwards forfeited to the laws of his country. The object of this diabolical crime was Daniel Clarke, a shoemaker, living at Knaresborough; and it appears that this unfortunate man, having lately married a woman of a good family, industriously circulated a report that his wife was entitled to a considerable fortune, which he should soon receive. Aram and Houseman, in consequence, conceiving hopes of procuring some advantage from this circumstance, persuaded Clarke to make an ostentatious show of his own riches, in order to induce his wife’s relations to give him that fortune of which he had boasted. It is not impossible that in giving their subsequent victim this advice, they may at the time have acted from a spirit of friendship, and without any intention of committing that crime for which they afterwards received their reward; but the belief that the design was already formed receives equal confirmation from subsequent events.

Clarke, it seems, was easily induced to comply with a hint so agreeable to his own desires; and he borrowed, and bought on credit, a large quantity of silver plate, with jewels, watches, rings, &c. He told the persons of whom he purchased, that a merchant in London had sent him an order to buy such plate for exportation; and no doubt was entertained of his credit till his sudden disappearance in February 1745, when it was imagined that he had gone abroad, or at least to London, to dispose of his ill-acquired property.

Whatever doubt may exist as to the original intention of the parties, their object at this time is perfectly clear, and there can be no hesitation in supposing that Aram and Houseman had at this time determined to murder their dupe, in order to share the booty. On the night of the 8th February 1745, they persuaded Clarke to take a walk with them, in order to consult upon the proper method to dispose of the effects; and, engaged in the discussion of this subject, they turned into a field, at a small distance from the town, well known by the name of St. Robert’s Cave. On their arrival there, Aram and Clarke went over a hedge towards the cave; and when they had got within six or seven yards of it, Houseman (by the light of the moon) saw Aram strike Clarke several times, and at length beheld him fall, but never saw him afterwards. These were the facts immediately connected with the murder, which were proved at the trial by Houseman, who was admitted King’s evidence; and, whatever were the subsequent proceedings of the parties in respect of the body, they must remain a mystery.

The murderers, going home, shared Clarke’s ill-gotten treasure, the half of which Houseman concealed in his garden for a twelvemonth, and then took it to Scotland, where he sold it. In the mean time Aram carried his share to London, where he sold it to a Jew, and then returned to his engagement with Mr. Plainblanc, in Piccadilly.

Fourteen years afterwards elapsed, and no tidings being received of Aram, it was concluded that he was dead; and these fourteen years had also elapsed without any clue being obtained to unravel the mystery of the sudden disappearance of Clarke. The time at length came, however, at which all the doubts which existed upon both subjects were to be solved. In the year 1758, a labourer named Jones was employed to dig for stone in St. Robert’s Cave, in order to supply a limekiln at a place called Thistle Hill, near Knaresborough; and having dug about two feet deep, he found the bones of a human body, still knit together by the ligaments of the joints. It had evidently been buried double; and there were indications about it which could not but lead to the supposition that some unfair means had been resorted to in order to deprive the living being of life. The incident afforded good grounds for general curiosity being raised, and general inquiry taking place; and hints were soon thrown out that it might be the body of Clarke, whose unexpected disappearance was still fresh in the memory of many, and whose continued absence had been the subject of so much surprise. Suggestions of his murder which had been thrown out by Aram’s wife were called to mind, and a coroner’s inquest being held, she was summoned. By this time a general impression prevailed that the remains found were those of Clarke, and the testimony of Mrs. Aram greatly confirmed the idea which had gone abroad. She deposed that she believed that Clarke had been murdered by Houseman and her husband, and that they had acquired considerable booty for the crime; but she was unable to give any account of her husband, or to state whether he still was in existence or not. Inquiries being made, however, Houseman was soon found; and on his being brought forward to be examined, he exhibited the utmost confusion. The coroner desired that he would take up one of the bones, probably with a view of seeing what effect such a proceeding would produce; and upon his doing so, he showed still further terror, and exclaimed, “This is no more Daniel Clarke’s bone than it is mine!” The suspicions which were already entertained of his guilt were, in a great measure, confirmed by this observation; and it was generally believed that he knew the precise spot where the real remains of the murdered man were deposited, even if he had not been a party to their interment. He was therefore strictly questioned; and after many attempts at evasion, he said that Clarke was murdered by Eugene Aram, and that his body was buried in St. Robert’s Cave, but that the head lay further to the right in the turn near the entrance of the cavern than the spot where the skeleton produced was found. Search was immediately made, and a skeleton was found in a situation corresponding exactly with that which had been pointed out. In consequence of this confession an inquiry was immediately set on foot for Aram, and after a considerable time he was discovered, occupying the situation of usher in a school at Lynn in Norfolk.

He was immediately apprehended and conveyed in custody to York Castle; and on the 13th of August 1759, he was brought to trial at the assizes before Mr. Justice Noel. The testimony of Houseman to the facts which we have described, and of the other witnesses whose evidence was of a corroborative character, was then adduced; and from the proof which was given, it appeared that the share of plunder derived by the prisoner did not exceed one hundred and fifty pounds.

Aram’s defence was both ingenious and able, and would not have disgraced any of the best lawyers of the day. It is a curious and interesting address, and we subjoin it as affording the best criterion of the talents of the prisoner which can well be adduced. He thus addressed the court:—

“My Lord,—I know not whether it is of right or through some indulgence of your lordship that I am allowed the liberty at this bar, and at this time, to attempt a defence, incapable and uninstructed as I am to speak; since, while I see so many eyes upon me, so numerous and awful a concourse fixed with attention and filled with I know not what expectancy, I labour not with guilt, my lord, but with perplexity; for having never seen a court but this, being wholly unacquainted with law, the customs of the bar, and all judiciary proceedings, I fear I shall be so little capable of speaking with propriety in this place, that it exceeds my hope if I shall be able to speak at all.