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.

“I have heard, my lord, the indictment read, wherein I find myself charged with the highest crime, with an enormity I am altogether incapable of; a fact, to the commission of which there goes far more insensibility of heart, more profligacy of morals, than ever fell to my lot; and nothing possibly could have admitted a presumption of this nature but a depravity not inferior to that imputed to me. However, as I stand indicted at your lordship’s bar, and have heard what is called evidence adduced in support of such a charge, I very humbly solicit your lordship’s patience, and beg the hearing of this respectable audience, while I, single and unskilful, destitute of friends and unassisted by counsel, say something, perhaps like argument, in my defence. I shall consume but little of your lordship’s time: what I have to say will be short; and this brevity, probably, will be the best part of it: however, it is offered with all possible regard and the greatest submission to your lordship’s consideration, and that of this honourable court.

“First, my lord, the whole tenor of my conduct in life contradicts every particular of the indictment: yet had I never said this, did not my present circumstances extort it from me, and seem to make it necessary. Permit me here, my lord, to call upon malignity itself, so long and cruelly busied in this prosecution, to charge upon me any immorality of which prejudice was not the author. No, my lord, I concerted no schemes of fraud, projected no violence, injured no man’s person or property. My days were honestly laborious, my nights intensely studious; and I humbly conceive my notice of this, especially at this time, will not be thought impertinent or unseasonable, but, at least, deserving some attention; because, my lord, that any person, after a temperate use of life, a series of thinking and acting regularly, and without one single deviation from sobriety, should plunge into the very depth of profligacy precipitately and at once, is altogether improbable and unprecedented, and absolutely inconsistent with the course of things. Mankind is never corrupted at once. Villany is always progressive, and declines from right, step by step, till every regard of probity is lost, and every sense of all moral obligation totally perishes.

“Again, my lord, a suspicion of this kind, which nothing but malevolence could entertain and ignorance propagate, is violently opposed by my very situation at that time with respect to health; for, but a little space before, I had been confined to my bed, and suffered under a very long and severe disorder, and was not able, for half a year together, so much as to walk. The distemper left me indeed, yet slowly, and in part—but so macerated, so enfeebled, that I was reduced to crutches; and so far from being well about the time I am charged with this fact, I have never, to this day, perfectly recovered. Could then a person in this condition take anything into his head so unlikely, so extravagant?—I, past the vigour of my age, feeble and valetudinary, with no inducement to engage, no ability to accomplish, no weapon wherewith to perpetrate such a deed, without interest, without power, without motive, without means. Besides, it must needs occur to every one, that an action of this atrocious nature is never heard of, but when its springs are laid open. It appears that it was to support some indolence, or supply some luxury; to satisfy some avarice, or oblige some malice; to prevent some real or some imaginary want: yet I lay not under the influence of these. Surely, my lord, I may, consistently with both truth and modesty, affirm thus much; and none who have any veracity and knew me, will ever question this.

“In the second place, the disappearance of Clarke is suggested as an argument of his being dead; but the uncertainty of such an inference from that, and the fallibility of all conclusions of such a sort from such a circumstance, are too obvious and too notorious to require instances; yet superseding many, permit me to produce a very recent one, and that afforded by this Castle.

“In June 1757, William Thompson, for all the vigilance of this place, in open daylight and double-ironed, made his escape, and, notwithstanding an immediate inquiry set on foot, the strictest search, and all advertisement, was never heard of since. If, then, Thompson got off unseen, through all these difficulties, how very easy it was for Clarke, when none of them opposed him! But what would be thought of a prosecution commenced against any one seen last with Thompson?

“Permit me next, my lord, to observe a little upon the bones which have been discovered. It is said (which perhaps is saying very far) that these are the skeleton of a man. It is possible, indeed, it may; but is there any certain known criterion which incontestably distinguishes the sex in human bones? Let it be considered, my lord, whether the ascertaining of this point ought not to precede any attempt to identify them?

“The place of their depositum, too, claims much more attention than is commonly bestowed upon it; for of all places in the world, none could have mentioned any one wherein there was greater certainty of finding human bones than a hermitage, except he should point out a churchyard; hermitages, in time past, being not only places of religious retirement, but of burial too: and it has scarce or never been heard of, but that every cell now known contains or contained these relics of humanity, some mutilated and some entire. I do not inform, but give me leave to remind your lordship, that here sat solitary Sanctity, and here the hermit or the anchoress hoped that repose for their bones when dead they here enjoyed when living.

“All the while, my lord, I am sensible this is known to your lordship, and many in this Court, better than to me; but it seems necessary to my case that others, who have not at all, perhaps, adverted to things of this nature, and may have concern in my trial, should be made acquainted with it. Suffer me then, my lord, to produce a few of many evidences that these cells were used as repositories of the dead, and to enumerate a few in which human bones have been found, as it happened in this question; lest, to some, that accident might seem extraordinary, and, consequently, occasion prejudice.

“1. The bones, as was supposed, of the Saxon saint, Dubritius, were discovered buried in his cell at Guy’s Cliff, near Warwick; as appears from the authority of Sir William Dugdale.

“2. The bones thought to be those of the anchoress Rosia were but lately discovered in a cell at Royston, entire, fair, and undecayed, though they must have lain interred for several centuries; as is proved by Dr. Stukely.

“3. But my own country—nay, almost this neighbourhood—supplies another instance; for in January 1747, were found, by Mr. Stovin, accompanied by a reverend gentleman, the bones, in part, of some recluse, in the cell at Lindholm, near Hatfield. They were believed to be those of William of Lindholm, a hermit, who had long made this cave his habitation.

“4. In February 1744, part of Woburn Abbey being pulled down, a large portion of a corpse appeared, even with the flesh on, and which bore cutting with a knife; though it is certain this had lain above two hundred years, and how much longer is doubtful; for this abbey was founded in 1145, and dissolved in 1538 or 1539.

“What would have been said, what believed, if this had been an accident to the bones in question?

“Farther, my lord:—it is not yet out of living memory that at a little distance from Knaresborough, in a field, part of the manor of the worthy and patriot baronet who does that borough the honour to represent it in parliament, were found, in digging for gravel, not one human skeleton only, but five or six, deposited side by side, with each an urn placed at its head, as your lordship knows was usual in ancient interments.

“About the same time, and in another field, almost close to this borough, was discovered also, in searching for gravel, another human skeleton; but the piety of the same worthy gentleman ordered both pits to be filled up again, commendably unwilling to disturb the dead.

“Is the invention of these bones forgotten, then, or industriously concealed, that the discovery of those in question may appear the more singular and extraordinary? whereas, in fact, there is nothing extraordinary in it. My lord, almost every place conceals such remains. In fields, in hills, in highway sides, in commons, lie frequent and unsuspected bones; and our present allotments for rest for the departed are but of some centuries.

“Another particular seems not to claim a little of your lordship’s notice, and that of the gentlemen of the jury; which is, that perhaps no example occurs of more than one skeleton being found in one cell: and in the cell in question was found but one; agreeable, in this, to the peculiarity of every other known cell in Britain. Not the invention of one skeleton, but of two, would have appeared suspicious and uncommon. But it seems another skeleton has been discovered by some labourer, which was full as confidently averred to be Clarke’s as this. My lord, must some of the living, if it promotes some interest, be made answerable for all the bones that earth has concealed and chance exposed? and might not a place where bones lay be mentioned by a person by chance as well as found by a labourer by chance? or is it more criminal accidentally to name where bones lie than accidentally to find where they lie?

“Here too is a human skull produced, which is fractured; but was this the cause, or was it the consequence, of death? was it owing to violence, or was it the effect of natural decay? If it was violence, was that violence before or after death? My lord, in May 1732, the remains of William, Lord Archbishop of this province, were taken up, by permission, in this cathedral, and the bones of the skull were found broken; yet certainly he died by no violence offered to him alive that could occasion that fracture there.

“Let it be considered, my lord, that, upon the dissolution of religious houses and the commencement of the Reformation, the ravages of those times affected both the living and the dead. In search after imaginary treasures, coffins were broken up, graves and vaults dug open, monuments ransacked, and shrines demolished; and it ceased about the beginning of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. I entreat your lordship, suffer not the violence, the depredations, and the iniquities of those times, to be imputed to this.

“Moreover, what gentleman here is ignorant that Knaresborough had a castle, which, though now a ruin, was once considerable both for its strength and garrison? All know it was vigorously besieged by the arms of the parliament; at which siege, in sallies, conflicts, flights, pursuits, many fell in all the places round it, and, where they fell, were buried, for every place, my lord, is burial-earth in war; and many, questionless, of these rest yet unknown, whose bones futurity shall discover.

“I hope, with all imaginable submission, that what has been said will not be thought impertinent to this indictment; and that it will be far from the wisdom, the learning, and the integrity of this place, to impute to the living what zeal in its fury may have done—what nature may have taken off, and piety interred—or what war alone may have destroyed, alone deposited.

“As to the circumstances that have been raked together, 1 have nothing to observe but that all circumstances whatever are precarious, and have been but too frequently found lamentably fallible; even the strongest have failed. They may rise to the utmost degree of probability, yet they are but probability still. Why need I name to your lordship the two Harrisons recorded by Dr. Howel, who both suffered upon circumstances because of the sudden disappearance of their lodger, who was in credit, had contracted debts, borrowed money, and went off unseen, and returned a great many years after their execution? Why name the intricate affair of Jacques de Moulin, under King Charles II. related by a gentleman who was counsel for the crown? And why the unhappy Coleman, who suffered innocently, though convicted upon positive evidence; and whose children perished for want, because the world uncharitably believed the father guilty? Why mention the perjury of Smith, incautiously admitted king’s evidence: who, to screen himself, equally accused Faircloth and Loveday of the murder of Dun; the first of whom, in 1749, was executed at Winchester; and Loveday was about to suffer at Reading, had not Smith been proved perjured, to the satisfaction of the Court, by the governor of Gosport hospital?

“Now, my lord, having endeavoured to show that the whole of this process is altogether repugnant to every part of my life; that it is inconsistent with my condition of health about that time; that no rational inference can be drawn that a person is dead who suddenly disappears; that hermitages are the constant depositaries of the bones of a recluse; that the proofs of this are well authenticated; that the revolutions in religion, or the fortunes of war, have mangled or buried the dead;—the conclusion remains, perhaps, no less reasonable than impatiently wished for. I, at last, after a year’s confinement, equal to either fortune, put myself upon the justice, the candour, and the humanity of your lordship; and upon yours, my countrymen, gentlemen of the jury.”

The delivery of this address created a very considerable impression in court; but the learned judge having calmly and with great perspicuity summed up the evidence which had been produced, and having observed upon the prisoner’s defence, which he declared to be one of the most ingenious pieces of reasoning that had ever fallen under his notice, the jury, with little hesitation, returned a verdict of Guilty. Sentence of death was then passed upon the prisoner, who received the intimation of his fate with becoming resignation. After his conviction, he confessed the justice of his sentence to two clergymen who were directed to attend him—a sufficient proof of the fruitlessness of the efforts to prove him innocent, which the morbid sentimentality of late writers has induced them to attempt. Upon an inquiry being made of him as to his reason for committing the crime, he declared that he had reason to suspect Clarke of having had unlawful intercourse with his wife; and that at the time of his committing the murder he had thought that he was acting rightly, but that he had since thought that his crime could not be justified or excused. In the hopes of avoiding the ignominious death which he was doomed to suffer, on the night before his execution he attempted to commit suicide by cutting his arm in two places with a razor, which he had concealed for that purpose. This attempt was not discovered until the morning, when the jailor came to lead him forth to the place of execution, and he was then found almost expiring from loss of blood. A surgeon was immediately sent for, who found that he had wounded himself severely on the left arm, above the elbow and near the wrist, but he had missed the artery, and his life was prolonged only in order that it might be taken away on the scaffold. When he was placed on the drop, he was perfectly sensible, but was too weak to be able to join in devotion with the clergyman who attended him He was executed at York on the 16th August 1759; and his body was afterwards hung in chains in Knaresborough Forest.

The following papers were afterwards found in his handwriting on the table in his cell. The first contained reasons for his attempt upon his life, and was as follows:—“What am I better than my fathers? To die is natural and necessary. Perfectly sensible of this, I fear no more to die than I did to be born. But the manner of it is something which should, in my opinion, be decent and manly. I think I have regarded both these points. Certainly no man has a better right to dispose of a man’s life than himself; and he, not others, should determine how. As for any indignities offered to my body, or silly reflections on my faith and morals, they are, as they always were, things indifferent to me. I think, though contrary to the common way of thinking, I wrong no man by this, and hope it is not offensive to that eternal Being that formed me and the world: and as by this I injure no man, no man can be reasonably offended. I solicitously recommend myself to that eternal and almighty Being, the God of Nature, if I have done amiss. But perhaps I have not; and I hope this thing will never be imputed to me. Though I am now stained by malevolence and suffer by prejudice, I hope to rise fair and unblemished. My life was not polluted, my morals irreproachable, and my opinions orthodox. I slept sound till three o’clock, awaked, and then writ these lines—

The second was in the form of a letter, addressed to a former companion, and was in the following terms:

“My dear Friend,—Before this reaches you, I shall be no more a living man in this world, though at present in perfect bodily health: but who can describe the horrors of mind which I suffer at this instant? Guilt—the guilt of blood shed without any provocation, without any cause but that of filthy lucre—pierces my conscience with wounds that give the most poignant pains! ’Tis true the consciousness of my horrid guilt has given me frequent interruptions in the midst of my business or pleasures; but yet I have found means to stifle its clamours, and contrived a momentary remedy for the disturbance it gave me by applying to the bottle or the bowl, or diversions, or company, or business; sometimes one, and sometimes the other, as opportunity offered: but now all these, and all other amusements, are at an end, and I am left forlorn, helpless, and destitute of every comfort; for I have nothing now in view but the certain destruction both of my soul and body. My conscience will now no longer suffer itself to be hoodwinked or browbeat: it has now got the mastery; it is my accuser, judge, and executioner: and the sentence it pronounceth against me is more dreadful than that I heard from the bench, which only condemned my body to the pains of death, which are soon over; but conscience tells me plainly that she will summon me before another tribunal, where I shall have neither power nor means to stifle the evidence she will there bring against me; and that the sentence which will then be denounced will not only be irreversible, but will condemn my soul to torments that will know no end.

“Oh! had I but hearkened to the advice which dear-bought experience has enabled me to give, I should not now have been plunged into that dreadful gulf of despair which I find it impossible to extricate myself from; and therefore my soul is filled with horror inconceivable. I see both God and man my enemies, and in a few hours shall be exposed a public spectacle for the world to gaze at. Can you conceive any condition more horrible than mine? O, no! it cannot be! I am determined, therefore, to put a short end to trouble I am no longer able to bear, and prevent the executioner by doing his business with my own hand, and shall by this means at least prevent the shame and disgrace of a public exposure, and leave the care of my soul in the hands of eternal mercy. Wishing you all health, happiness, and prosperity, I am, to the last moment of my life, yours, with the sincerest regard,

“Eugene Aram.”

It is impossible to view the circumstances of this remarkable case, without being struck with the extraordinary conduct of Aram. It is most singular that a man of his talents and mind should have leagued himself with a person like Houseman, who appears to have been utterly uneducated, in the commission of a murder, and with the hope only of gain; for whatever his declarations after his conviction may have been, as to his object being revenge only for the supposed injury which had been done him by his victim in the seduction of his wife, his ready acquiescence in the plot with another, and his willing acceptance of the plunder which was obtained, distinctly show that that was not the only end which he sought to attain. If, indeed, his feelings were outraged, as he suggested, he would have selected some other mode of obtaining that satisfaction to which the injury alleged would have entitled him; and it is hardly to be supposed that he would have obtained the assistance of another to secure the object which he had in view, more particularly when it appears that it was he who absolutely committed the foul act, without the immediate aid of Houseman,—a circumstance which clearly exemplifies the power which he possessed to dispose of his victim, and which would seem to show a desire on his part only to obtain the participation of another in a preconceived act, anticipating doubtless that some aid would be necessary in appropriating and disposing of the property which might be procured from the deceased, and also that some advice would be requisite in the event of suspicion attaching to him. But while these circumstances cannot but surprise us, how much more astonishing is the Divine power of Providence, which disclosed to human eyes, after so long a lapse of time, such evidence as in the result proved the commission of the crime, and which secured the seizure of the criminal, who had up to that time remained unsuspected, and who even then was living in fancied security, free from all fear of discovery and apprehension! It is said that

and how truly is this observation of the most wonderful of poets exemplified by nearly every page of these records of crime!

WILLIAM ANDREW HORNE, ESQ.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

They then returned home; and it was afterwards learned that the child died in the course of the night from exposure to the cold; but in a short time afterwards a quarrel arising between the brothers, the whole transaction was communicated by Charles to his father. The latter enjoined him to the strictest secrecy; and this injunction was obeyed up to the time of the old man’s death, which occurred in the year 1747, in the 102nd year of his age. The real estate of the family, being entailed, then descended to the eldest son; but the father had previously made over his personal property by deed of gift to his son Charles. No sooner had the new squire assumed the government of the estate than he behaved with the utmost severity towards his brother as well as his tenants; and at length the former, rendered miserable by his participation in the horrid act, having some business to transact with Mr. Cooke, an attorney at Derby, told him of the long-concealed affair, and asked his advice. The lawyer told him to go to a justice of the peace and make a full discovery of the whole transaction; and he accordingly went to a magistrate, and acquainted him with what had happened. He hesitated to take cognizance of the matter, however, saying that it might hang half the family; and as it had passed so many years ago, advised that it might remain a secret.

No further notice of the circumstance was then taken until the year 1754, when Charles being suddenly seized with a severe fit of illness, called in a Mr. White of Ripley, to whom, in anticipation of his death, he disclosed all that had occurred. Mr. White declined to interfere; but his patient almost immediately recovered, declaring that “he had been better ever since the weight of the transaction had been taken off his mind by his making the disclosure.”

The discovery, however, soon became a matter of notoriety; and William Horne having a quarrel with a publican named Roe, the latter called him “an incestuous old dog.” A suit in the Ecclesiastical Court at Lichfield was the consequence; and Roe being unsuccessful, was ordered to pay all the costs. This circumstance inflamed him with revenge; and having made such inquiries as persuaded him of the truth of the report which he had heard, he procured a warrant to be issued for the apprehension of his late opponent. A constable of Annesley and he in consequence proceeded to the house of the squire at about eight o’clock in the evening, and after having experienced considerable difficulty, succeeded in obtaining admittance. A strict search was then commenced; but it was not until a long time had elapsed that they discovered the object of their inquiry concealed in a large box, which had been described as containing clean linen. He was immediately carried before two justices, who committed him to take his trial at the following assizes.

On the 10th of August 1759, he was brought to trial before Lord Chief Baron Parker; and after a hearing of about nine hours, the jury found him guilty, and sentence of death passed of course.

Horne being convicted on a Saturday, was sentenced to die on the Monday following; but a number of gentlemen waited on the judge, intimating that he had been so long hardened in iniquity, that a farther time would be necessary to prepare him for his awful change, and a respite of a month was in consequence granted.

When this time was nearly expired, he received a reprieve during his majesty’s pleasure; so that he began to entertain hopes of obtaining a free pardon: and he employed a considerable part of his time in writing to his friends to make interest to secure this object. He, however, confessed the justice of his conviction, but seemed little affected by the enormity of his crime, and frequently said, “it was d—d hard to suffer on the evidence of a brother for a crime committed so many years before.”

He gave the following account of the transaction:—He said he had no design of destroying the infant, but put it in a bag lined with wool, and made a hole in the bag that it might not be stifled. He added, that the child was handsomely dressed, and he had intended to have left it at the door of Mr. Chaworth, of Annesley; but the dogs barking, and there being a light in the house, he desisted from his first intention, in the fear of a discovery. After some hesitation, he said, he resolved to place it under a warm hay-stack, in the hope that, when the servants came to fodder the cattle in the morning, it would be found.

He acknowledged to a clergyman who assisted him in his devotions that he forgave all his enemies, even his brother Charles; but made the following strange addition to his speech: “that if, at the day of judgment, God Almighty should ask him how his brother behaved, he would not give him a good character.”

The hopes of a pardon which he had entertained soon proved unfounded; and an order arrived for his execution on the 11th December 1759, on which day he completed his 74th year, and terminated his life on a scaffold erected at Nottingham.

LAURENCE, EARL FERRERS.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

This nobleman was united in the year 1752 to the youngest daughter of Sir William Meredith; but although his general conduct when sober was not such as to be remarkable, yet his faculties were so much impaired by drink, that when under the influence of intoxication, he acted with all the wildness and brutality of a madman. For a time his wife perceived nothing which induced her to repent the step she had taken in being united to him; but he subsequently behaved to her with such unwarrantable cruelty, that she was compelled to quit his protection, and rejoining her father’s family, to apply to Parliament for redress. An act was in consequence passed, allowing her a separate maintenance to be raised out of her husband’s estate; and trustees being appointed, the unfortunate Mr. Johnson, who fell a sacrifice to the ungovernable passions of Lord Ferrers, having been bred up in the family from his youth, and being distinguished for the regular manner in which he kept his accounts, and his fidelity as a steward, was proposed as receiver of the rents for her use. He at first declined the office; but subsequently, at the desire of the Earl himself, he consented to act, and continued in this employment for a considerable time.

His lordship at this time lived at Stanton, a seat about two miles from Ashby de la Zouch, in Leicestershire; and his family consisted of Mrs. Clifford, a lady who lived with him, and her four natural daughters, besides five men-servants, exclusive of an old man and a boy, and three maids.

Mr. Johnson lived at the house belonging to the farm, which he held under his lordship, called the Lount, about half a mile distant from Stanton. It appears that it was his custom to visit his noble master occasionally, to settle the accounts which were placed under his care; but his lordship gradually conceived a dislike for him, grounded upon the prejudice raised in his mind on account of his being the receiver of the countess’ portion, and charged him with having combined with the trustees to prevent his receiving a coal contract. From this time he spoke of him in opprobrious terms, and said he had conspired with his enemies to injure him, and that he was a villain; and with these sentiments he gave him warning to quit an advantageous farm which he held under his lordship. Finding, however, that the trustees under the act of separation had already granted him a lease of it, it having been promised to him by the earl or his relations, he was disappointed, and probably from that time he meditated a more cruel revenge.

The circumstances immediately attending the transaction, which terminated in the death of Johnson, are as follow:—

On Sunday the 13th of January 1760, my lord went to the Lount, and after some discourse with Mr. Johnson, ordered him to come to him at Stanton on the Friday following, the 18th, at three o’clock in the afternoon. His lordship’s usual dinner-hour was two o’clock; and soon after that meal was disposed of, on the Friday, he went to Mrs. Clifford, who was in the still-house, and desired her to take the children for a walk. She accordingly prepared herself and her daughters, and with the permission of the earl went to her father’s, at a short distance, being directed to return at half-past five. The men-servants were next despatched on errands by their master, who was thus left in the house with the three females only. In a short time afterwards Mr. Johnson came according to his appointment, and was admitted by one of the maid-servants, named Elizabeth Burgeland. He proceeded at once to his lordship’s apartment, but was desired to wait in the still-house; and then, after the expiration of about ten minutes, the earl calling him into his own room, went in with him and locked the door. Being thus together, the earl required him first to settle an account, and then charging him with the villany which he attributed to him, ordered him to kneel down. The unfortunate man went down on one knee; upon which the earl, in a tone of voice loud enough to be heard by the maid-servants without, cried, “Down on your other knee; declare that you have acted against Lord Ferrers; your time is come—you must die:” and then suddenly drawing a pistol from his pocket, which was loaded, he

Lord Ferrers shooting his Steward.

presented it and immediately fired. The ball entered the body of the unfortunate man; but he rose up, and entreated that no farther violence might be done him; and the female servants at that time coming to the door, being alarmed by the report, his lordship quitted the room. A messenger was immediately despatched for Mr. Kirkland, a surgeon, who lived at Ashby de la Zouch; and Johnson being put to bed, his lordship went to him and asked him how he felt? He answered that he was dying, and desired that his family might be sent for. Miss Johnson soon after arrived, and Lord Ferrers immediately followed her into the room where her father lay. He then pulled down the clothes, and applied a pledget, dipped in arquebusade water, to the wound, and soon after left him.

From this time it appears that his lordship applied himself to his favourite amusement, drinking, until he became exceedingly violent (for at the time of the commission of the murder he is reported to have been sober), and on the arrival of Mr. Kirkland he told him that he had shot Johnson, but believed he was more frightened than hurt; that he had intended to shoot him dead, for that he was a villain and deserved to die; “but,” said he, “now I have spared his life, I desire you would do what you can for him.” His lordship at the same time desired that he would not suffer him to be seized, and declared, that if any one should attempt it, he would shoot him. Mr. Kirkland, who wisely determined to say whatever might keep Lord Ferrers from any further outrages, told him that he should not be seized, and directly went to the wounded man.

The patient complained of a violent pain in his bowels; and Mr. Kirkland preparing to search the wound, my lord informed him of the direction of it, by showing him how he held the pistol when he fired it. Mr. Kirkland found the ball had lodged in the body; at which his lordship expressed great surprise, declaring that he had tried that pistol a few days before, and that it then carried a ball through a deal board near an inch and a half thick. Mr. Kirkland then went down stairs to prepare some dressings, and my lord soon after left the room. From this time, in proportion as the liquor which he continued to drink took effect, his passions became more tumultuous, and the transient fit of compassion, mixed with fear for himself, which had excited him, gave way to starts of rage and the predominance of malice. He went up into the room where Johnson was dying, and pulled him by the wig, calling him villain, and threatening to shoot him through the head; and the last time he went to him he was with great difficulty prevented from tearing the clothes off the bed, that he might strike him.

A proposal was made to him in the evening by Mrs. Clifford, that Mr. Johnson should be removed to his own house; but he replied, “He shall not be removed; I will keep him here to plague the villain.” He afterwards spoke to Miss Johnson about her father, and told her that if he died, he would take care of her and of the family, provided they did not prosecute.

When his lordship went to bed, which was between eleven and twelve, he told Mr. Kirkland that he knew he could, if he would, set the affair in such a light as to prevent his being seized, desiring that he might see him before he went away in the morning, and declaring that he would rise at any hour.

Mr. Kirkland, however, was very solicitous to get Mr. Johnson removed; and as soon as the earl was gone, he set about carrying his object into effect. He in consequence went to Lount, and having fitted up an easy-chair with poles, by way of a sedan, and procured a guard, he returned at about two o’clock, and carried Mr. Johnson to his house, where he expired at about nine o’clock on the following morning.

The neighbours now began to take measures to secure the murderer, and a few of them having armed themselves, set out for Stanton; and as they entered the yard, they saw his lordship, partly undressed, going towards the stable, as if to take out a horse. One of them, named Springthorpe, then advancing towards his lordship with a pistol in his hand, required him to surrender; but the latter, putting his hand towards his pocket, his assailant, imagining that he was feeling for some weapon of offence, stopped short and allowed him to escape into the house. A great concourse of people by this time had come to the spot, and they cried out loudly that the earl should come forth. Two hours elapsed, however, before anything was seen of him, and then he came to the garret window and called out, “How is Johnson?” He was answered that he was dead; but he said it was a lie, and desired that the people should disperse; but then he gave orders that they should be let in and be furnished with victuals and drink, and finally he went away from the window swearing that no man should take him. The mob still remained on the spot, and in about two hours the earl was descried by a collier, named Curtis, walking on the bowling-green, armed with a blunderbuss, a brace of pistols, and a dagger. Curtis, however, so far from being intimidated by his bold appearance, walked up to him; and his lordship, struck with the resolution he displayed, immediately surrendered himself, and gave up his arms, but directly afterwards declared that he had killed the villain, and gloried in the act. He was instantly conveyed in custody to a public-house at Ashby, kept by a man named Kinsey; and a coroner’s jury having brought in a verdict of wilful murder against him, he was on the following Monday committed to the custody of the keeper of the jail at Leicester. Being entitled, however, by his rank to be tried before his peers, he was in about a fortnight afterwards conveyed to London, in his landau, drawn by six horses, under a strong guard; and being carried before the House of Lords, he was committed to the custody of the Black Rod, and ordered to the Tower, where he arrived at about six o’clock in the evening of the 14th February. He is reported to have behaved, during the whole journey and at his commitment, with great calmness and propriety. He was confined in the Round Tower, near the drawbridge: two wardens were constantly in the room with him, and one at the door; two sentinels were posted at the bottom of the stairs, and one upon the drawbridge, with their bayonets fixed; and from this time the gates were ordered to be shut an hour sooner than usual.

During his confinement he was moderate both in eating and drinking; his breakfast was a half-pint basin of tea, with a small spoonful of brandy in it, and a muffin; with his dinner he generally drank a pint of wine and a pint of water, and another pint of each with his supper. In general his behaviour was decent and quiet, except that he would sometimes suddenly start, tear open his waistcoat, and use other gestures, which showed that his mind was disturbed.

Mrs. Clifford and the four young ladies, who had come up with him from Leicestershire, took a lodging in Tower-street, and for some time a servant was continually passing with letters between them: but afterwards this correspondence was permitted only once a day.

Mrs. Clifford came three times to the Tower to see him, but was not admitted; but his children were suffered to be with him some time.

On the 16th of April, having been a prisoner in the Tower two months and two days, he was brought to his trial, which continued till the 18th, before the House of Lords, assembled for that purpose; Lord Henley, keeper of the great seal, having been created lord high steward upon the occasion.

The murder was easily proved to have been committed in the manner we have described; and his lordship then proceeded to enter upon his defence.

He called several witnesses, the object of whose testimony was to show that the earl was not of sound mind, but none of them proved such an insanity as made him not accountable for his conduct. His lordship managed his defence himself, in such a manner as showed an uncommon understanding; he mentioned the fact of his being reduced to the necessity of attempting to prove himself a lunatic, that he might not be deemed a murderer, with the most delicate and affecting sensibility; and, when he found that his plea could not avail him, he confessed that he made it only to gratify his friends; that he was always averse to it himself; and that it had prevented what he had proposed, and what perhaps might have taken off the malignity at least of the accusation.

The peers having in the usual form delivered their verdict of Guilty, his lordship received sentence to be hanged on Monday the 21st of April, and then to be anatomized; but, in consideration of his rank, the execution of this sentence was respited till Monday the 5th of May.

During this interval he made a will, by which he left one thousand three hundred pounds to Mr. Johnson’s children; one thousand pounds to each of his four natural daughters; and sixty pounds a year to Mrs. Clifford for her life; but this disposition of his property being made after his conviction, was not valid; although it was said that the same, or nearly the same provision was afterwards made for the parties named.

In the mean time a scaffold was erected under the gallows at Tyburn, and part of it, about a yard square, was raised about eighteen inches above the rest of the floor, with a contrivance to sink down upon a signal given, in accordance with the plan now invariably adopted; the whole being covered with black baize.

On the morning of the 5th May, at about nine o’clock, his lordship’s body was demanded of the keeper of the Tower, by the sheriffs of London and Middlesex, and his lordship being informed of it, sent a message to the sheriffs requesting that he might be permitted to be conveyed to the scaffold in his own landau, in preference to the mourning-coach which was provided for him. This being granted, his landau, drawn by six horses, immediately drew up, and he entered it, accompanied by Mr. Humphries, the chaplain of the Tower, who had been admitted to him on that morning for the first time. On the carriage reaching the outer gate, the earl was delivered up to the sheriffs, and Mr. Sheriff Vaillant entered the vehicle with him, expressing his concern at having so melancholy a duty to perform; but his lordship said “he was much obliged to him, and took it kindly that he accompanied him.” The earl was attired in a white suit, richly embroidered with silver; and when he put it on he said, “This is the suit in which I was married, and in which I will die.” The procession being now formed, moved forward slowly, the landau being preceded by a considerable body of horse grenadiers, and by a carriage containing Mr. Sheriff Errington, and his under sheriff, Mr. Jackson, and being followed by the carriage of Mr. Sheriff Vaillant, containing Mr. Nichols, his under sheriff, a mourning-coach and six, containing some of his lordship’s friends, a hearse and six for the conveyance of his body to Surgeon’s Hall after execution, and another body of military. The pace at which they proceeded, in consequence of the density of the mob, was so slow, that his lordship was two hours and three quarters in his landau, but during that time he appeared perfectly easy and composed, though he often expressed his anxiety to have the whole affair over, saying “that the apparatus of death, and the passing through such crowds, were worse than death itself,” and “that he supposed so large a mob had been collected because the people had never seen a lord hanged before,” He told the sheriff that “he had written to the king to beg that he might suffer where his ancestor, the Earl of Essex, had been executed; and that he was in the greater hopes of obtaining that favour, as he had the honour of quartering part of the same arms, and of being allied to his majesty; but that he had refused, and he thought it hard that he must die at the place appointed for the execution of common felons.”

Mr. Humphries took occasion to observe, that the world would naturally be very inquisitive concerning the religion his lordship professed, and asked him if he chose to say anything upon that subject; and his lordship answered that he did not think himself accountable to the world for his sentiments on religion; but that he had always believed in and adored one God, the maker of all things; that whatever his notions were, he had never propagated them, or endeavoured to gain any persons over to his persuasion; that all countries and nations had a form of religion by which the people were governed, and that he looked upon any one who disturbed them in it as an enemy to society. That he blamed very much my Lord Bolingbroke for permitting his sentiments on religion to be published to the world. That he never could believe what some sectaries teach, that faith alone will save mankind; so that if a man, just before he dies, should say only “I believe,” that alone will save him.

As to the crime for which he suffered, he declared “that he was under particular circumstances—that he had met with so many crosses and vexations, he scarce knew what he did:” and he most solemnly protested “that he had not the least malice against Mr. Johnson.”

When his lordship had got to that part of Holborn which is near Drury-lane, he said “he was thirsty, and should be glad of a glass of wine and water;” upon which the sheriffs remonstrating to him, “that a stop for that purpose would necessarily draw a greater crowd about him, which night possibly disturb and incommode him, yet, if his lordship still desired it, it should be done,” he most readily answered, “That’s true—I say no more—let us by no means stop.”

When they approached near the place of execution, his lordship, pointing to Mrs. Clifford, told the sheriff “that there was a person waiting in a coach near there, for whom he had a very sincere regard, and of whom he should be glad to take his leave before he died.” The sheriff answered that, “if his lordship insisted upon it, it should be so; but that he wished his lordship, for his own sake, would decline it, lest the sight of a person, for whom he had such a regard, should unman him, and disarm him of the fortitude he possessed.” His lordship, without the least hesitation, replied, “Sir, if you think I am wrong, I submit:” and upon the sheriff telling his lordship that if he had anything to deliver to the individual referred to, or any one else, he would faithfully do it, his lordship delivered to him a pocket-book, in which were a bank-note and a ring, and a purse with some guineas, which were afterwards handed over to the unhappy woman.

The landau being now advanced to the place of execution, his lordship alighted from it, and ascended the scaffold with the same composure and fortitude of mind he had exhibited from the time he left the Tower. Soon after he had mounted the scaffold, Mr. Humphries asked his lordship if he chose to say prayers, which he declined; but, upon his asking him “if he did not choose to join with him in the Lord’s Prayer,” he readily answered “he would, for he always thought it a very fine prayer;” upon which they knelt down together upon two cushions, covered with black baize and his lordship, with an audible voice, very devoutly repeated the Lord’s Prayer, and afterwards, with great energy, ejaculated, “O God, forgive me all my errors—pardon all my sins!”

His lordship, then rising, took his leave of the sheriff and the chaplain; and, after thanking them for their many civilities, presented his watch to Mr. Sheriff Vaillant, of which he desired his acceptance; and requested that his body might be buried at Breden or Stanton, in Leicestershire.

The executioner now proceeded to do his duty, to which his lordship, with great resignation, submitted. His neckcloth being taken off, a white cap, which he had brought in his pocket, being put upon his head, his arms secured by a black sash, and the cord put round his neck, he advanced by three steps to the elevated part of the scaffold, and, standing under the cross-beam which went over it, which was also covered with black baize, he asked the executioner “Am I right?” Then the cap was drawn over his face, and, upon a signal given by the sheriff, (for his lordship, upon being before asked, declined to give one himself,) that part upon which he stood instantly sunk down from beneath his feet, and he was launched into eternity May the 5th 1760.

From the time of his lordship’s ascending upon the scaffold, until his execution, was about eight minutes; during which his countenance did not change, nor his tongue falter.

The accustomed time of one hour being past, the coffin was raised up, with the greatest decency, to receive the body; and, being deposited in the hearse, was conveyed by the sheriffs, with the same procession, to Surgeons’ Hall, to undergo the remainder of the sentence. A large incision was then made from the neck to the bottom of the breast, and another across the throat; the lower part of the belly was laid open, and the bowels taken away. It was afterwards publicly exposed to view in a room up one pair of stairs at the Hall; and on the evening of Thursday, the 8th of May, it was delivered to his friends for interment.

The following verse is said to have been found in his apartment:—