DANIEL DOODY, JOHN CUSSEN, alias WALSH, JAMES LEAHY, MAURICE LEAHY,
WILLIAM DOODY, DAVID LEAHY, DANIEL RIEDY, WILLIAM COSTELLO, AND WALTER
FITZMAURICE, alias CAPTAIN ROCK,
CONVICTED OF ABDUCTION.
IT was the opinion of Dr. Johnson that many of the romantic tales of the middle ages had their origin in truth, and that the absolute distress of females might, in all probability, have called for the institution of “knight errantry.” To protect the defenceless is a natural impulse, which has its foundation in the sympathies of our nature; but when a female, young, beautiful, and innocent, is the victim of oppression, there is no man, with common feelings, who would not risk his life to snatch her from despair and misery. In this happy country there are few instances of abduction; but in Ireland this unmanly crime is too prevalent. The disturbed state of certain parts of the country gives aid to the schemes of unprincipled ruffians, acting on the presumption that injured females, when degraded and dishonoured, would, of necessity, save the violators of their innocence from ignominy by a marriage—the only means, they suppose, left them to escape from unmerited shame. The persons thus forcibly carried away are generally the daughters of opulent farmers—a fact which clearly shows the mercenary views of those who commit so base and cowardly an outrage on the most defenceless part of the creation.
Among the numerous outrages of this nature was one on the person of Miss Honora Goold, a young lady remarkable for her personal beauty. She lived in the house of her mother at Glangurt, in the county of Cork, and had two sisters older than herself, she being scarcely sixteen, and a brother. On the 4th of March 1822, about twelve o’clock at night, their dwelling was attacked by an armed banditti, who, on threatening to burn the house, were admitted. One of the ferocious ruffians burst into Miss Honora’s apartment, and asked if she was the eldest Miss Goold. She replied in the negative, and said that her sister was on a visit in Cork. The inquirer then withdrew, and having searched several other apartments, returned, followed by five or six others, and repeated his interrogations, but on this occasion answered them himself in the affirmative, and then ordered her to rise and dress herself, and to accompany them. At the suggestion of one of the party, they withdrew from the room; but Miss Goold was scarcely dressed when they returned; and one of them seizing her round the waist, carried her screaming to the outside of the house, where she was received by a stranger on horseback. She was placed in front of the horseman, and then the party, in spite of her cries and entreaties, set off in the direction of the Galties, a range of hills between the counties of Cork and Limerick. At the distance of several miles they halted, and there, having procured a pillion, their captive was compelled to ride behind the leader of this atrocious band. In her eagerness to escape she fell several times during their progress; and having continued her screams all the time, one of the ruffians threatened to murder her unless she desisted.
By daylight they had entered the recesses of the Galties; and several of the party having occasionally dropped off, she was conducted by the few that remained to the house of David Leahy, a substantial farmer.
The leader of this outrage was a young man named Brown, of a respectable family, and who had received an education which should have rendered him incapable of such base and unmanly conduct. The elder Miss Goold was entitled, on her marriage, to a large fortune; and Brown, hoping to possess himself of it, resolved to carry off the young lady. Being disappointed by the precipitancy and mistake of his assistants, he determined to make sure of the lovely victim who had fallen into his power, knowing that the opulence of her family could make him independent, provided he could insure the consent of the astonished girl he had forcibly carried off. With virtuous indignation, however, she repulsed his advances, and begged the protection of Mrs. Leahy, in whose parlour she now was; but, strange to say, this woman, who was herself a mother, connived at the ruin of her unprotected guest.
Foiled in his direct attack, Brown had recourse to an expedient which, for the honour of human nature, we would wish never to record, did not impartial justice demand an honest discharge of our duty as faithful narrators of criminal occurrences. It was proposed, immediately after breakfast, that Miss Goold should take some rest. A bed was in the parlour, and she was directed to repose upon it. This, indeed, after the fatigue of the night, was most desirable; but to her utter astonishment, the family in which were two females, left the room, at the same time locking the
Abduction of Miss Goold.
P. 66.
door upon herself and Brown. The monster, in spite of her entreaties and screams, proceeded to undress her, and insisted on lying beside her. The reader need not be told the rest—the purity of female innocence was grossly violated in the person of this young and lovely creature; and her destroyer arose from his bed of lust, the polluter of one whose peace of mind neither the world’s sympathy nor the world’s wealth could restore.
The friends of Miss Goold, who comprised the wealth and respectability of the county of Cork, instantly set about recovering the injured lady. The pursuit was continued from day to day for three weeks; and the vigilance of her friends was only evaded by her being removed from house to house, and from cabin to cabin; and even once, by her being exposed for a whole day and night to the inclemency of the weather on a bleak mountain, when she had the agony of seeing her friends at a distance, but was prevented from calling to them, or flying to join them, by a ruffian, who stood sentinel over her with a loaded pistol. At length, however, her sufferings were to be terminated. Though weak and almost exhausted by opposition to her foul abuser, she still remained firm in her virtuous resolve to be no consenting party to the violence offered to her, and at the conclusion of three weeks, she was placed by her ferocious guards in a poor cabin on the roadside, where her friends might find her. When discovered she was in a condition of the greatest misery, being so weak as to be unable to walk, stand, or sit. Seventeen hours were occupied in removing her thirteen miles, to her mother’s house, but when once restored to home and its enjoyments her recovery was rapid, and in a short time her health was re-established, as far as it was possible under all the frightful circumstances of her affecting case. From the description, which she gave of the perpetrators of this act of violence, several of the party were apprehended. Brown, the guilty contriver of the plan, escaped from the country; and Fitzmaurice, alias Captain Rock, evaded the pursuit of justice for a considerable time, but at last surrendered to a magistrate. The men whose names head this article, except Fitzmaurice and Costello, were brought to trial on the 29th of July 1822, at Limerick. Miss Goold appeared to give evidence, and her narrative, which she delivered with modest dignity, procured her the willing sympathy of a crowded court. The prisoners were found Guilty—Death; but the three Leahys and Cussen were subsequently discharged, on a point of law operating in their favour.
On the 23rd of August following, Walter Fitzmaurice, better known at the time as Captain Rock, pleaded guilty at the Cork assizes; and, along with Costello, who was found guilty on the solitary evidence of Miss Goold’s brother, who swore to his having seen him on the night of the abduction, received sentence of Death.
On the ensuing Saturday, Costello underwent the awful sentence of the law, but Fitzmaurice was respited, something having arisen in his favour, principally on the ground of his having pleaded guilty in consequence of the judge refusing to put off his trial in the absence of a material witness. Costello, to the last, declared his innocence, not only of the crime for which he was convicted, but of any connexion whatever with the White Boys.
PHILIP STOFFEL, AND CHARLES KEPPEL.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
ON Tuesday night, April the 8th, 1823, a most inhuman murder was committed at Clapham, on the body of Mrs. Elizabeth Richards, a widow of seventy-five years of age. The unfortunate lady had resided for thirty years in the same house at the above town, where she was greatly respected by the neighbours. She kept no servant, and had no inmate but an elderly lady named Bell. The latter was in the habit of going out in the evening to attend a place of religious worship. A little after eight o’clock on the evening in question a neighbouring woman calling to see Mrs. Richards found her dead, lying on her back in the parlour, with an apron stuffed into her mouth. On examination it was found that robbers had perpetrated the dreadful deed, as the pockets of the deceased had been violently torn from her side, her watch and some money taken, as well as several articles of wearing apparel. The villains, however, had missed the principal object of their attack, for a large sum of money had escaped their search, which was concealed in an upper room. Upon an examination of the person of the deceased lady, it appeared that she had been smothered. She had been left by age only two teeth, and one of these was forced down her throat by the violence with which the wretches had thrust the apron into her mouth, with the view, no doubt, of preventing her from giving alarm. A paper parcel was found in the hall, on which was written “Mrs. Bell, hat Mrs. Richards, Clapham.”
The sensation produced by this unprovoked murder was so great, that a public meeting was called in a day or two at Clapham, and a reward of two hundred guineas offered for a discovery of the murderers. The active officers of Union Hall police-office in the course of a week apprehended a suspicious character, Philip Stoffel, nephew to Mrs. Richards, a ruffianly-looking fellow of about twenty years of age. When brought to the police-office he denied all knowledge of the crime with which he was accused; but, being requested to write “Mrs. Bell, at Mrs. Richards,” &c., he wrote the word hat for at, in a hand precisely similar to that in which the superscription on the parcel found after the murder was written. Seeing himself detected, he exclaimed, “It is of no use—I was at the murder!” He then, unsolicited, gave a full account of the whole transaction, and acknowledged who were with him at the time. Previously, however, to this confession, another of the gang, named Thomas Scott, a rat-catcher, was in custody, and had been admitted king’s evidence. In his confession, which gave a minute account of the whole transaction, he stated that the robbery was planned by Stoffel, who called in the aid of himself, Keppel, and one Pritchard, but that the murder was the act of Keppel alone, Stoffel particularly desiring that they would not hurt his aunt. Whilst Scott was giving the parcel to Mrs. Richards, who went into the room to read the direction, Stoffel walked in gently and said, “My good old lady, we don’t want to hurt you; we only wish for you to be quiet.” She exclaimed “Oh Lord! oh dear!” when Stoffel put his hand upon her mouth, and the other two men coming in, he desired Keppel to hold her whilst he went up stairs, as he knew best where the money was, but not to hurt her. They then proceeded to rifle the house of all they could get at, but did not break any locks, for fear of alarming the people in the next house. Though Mrs. Richards did not move, Scott declared that he did not think she was dead, but only that she had fainted.
In consequence of the information contained in Scott’s confession, the officers went in pursuit of Keppel and Pritchard; and after having travelled from Gravesend to Portsmouth, they succeeded in apprehending Keppel, who was disguised in a smock-frock, &c. Keppel and Pritchard were by trade bricklayers, but had led a most abandoned life among the lowest prostitutes about Westminster. Pritchard, we are sorry to say, escaped the pursuit of justice, as he was never apprehended. Keppel denied all knowledge of the murder, and behaved in the most hardened manner.
Stoffel had every expectation of being admitted king’s evidence; but he was not so fortunate, and he was arraigned along with Keppel at the Croydon assizes, July the 25th, for the murder of Mrs. Richards. The evidence against them was conclusive; for the confession of Stoffel, and the corroborated testimony of the accomplice, Scott, left no doubt whatever of their guilt.
Having been declared guilty by the jury, the learned judge (Mr. Serjeant Onslow) put on the black cap, and passed the awful sentence of the law upon the prisoners. Keppel, whose conduct throughout the whole transaction had been most thoughtless and hardened, then directly addressed the court in the most abominable language. He told the judge, that he was a bloody old rogue, and damned him and his laws together; and was only prevented from continuing his abuse, by his being forcibly removed from the dock.
The unhappy wretches continued, up to the day of their execution, which took place at Horsemonger-lane jail on the 28th July, 1823, to exhibit the utmost levity of demeanour, but were at length brought to a just sense of their condition on the morning of their death, and were turned off, professedly lamenting their past misspent life.
JOHN THURTELL AND JOSEPH HUNT.
CONVICTED OF MURDER.
FOR cold-blooded villany in its conception, its planning, and its perpetration, this murder must be allowed to stand unparalleled. The sensation which it created throughout the country was such, as was probably never exceeded in any previous case.
John Thurtell, the principal actor in the affair, was the son of a respectable and worthy man, Alderman Thurtell of Norwich, who twice filled the office of mayor of that city. Early in life he went to sea, and on his return obtained a lieutenant’s commission in the German Legion, then serving in Portugal. He also served in Spain, and was at the storming of St. Sebastian. In 1821 he was residing at Norwich as a bombasin manufacturer, and in that year, he came to London to receive 400l. for goods which he had sold to a respectable house, and which, on his return, he was to pay among his creditors. Instead of doing so, however, he fabricated a story that, as he was walking along a lonely spot, near Norwich, he was stopped by footpads, and robbed of it; but his creditors did not hesitate to tell him that he had invented this tale for the purpose of defrauding them; and, to avoid their importunities, he set off for London, in company with a girl, with whom he had lived for some time. Here he commenced business, in conjunction with his brother Thomas, but soon failed. On the 26th of January, 1823, their premises in Watling-street were burnt down, and very strong suspicions were entertained that the fire was wilful, and that the object of the Thurtells was to defraud the insurance-office.
About two years before this event, by which the brothers were thrown out of the immediate means of subsistence, John Thurtell had become a frequenter of a public-house in Bow-street, called the Brown Bear, which has since been removed, but which was then well known, as the resort of sporting men, and as a house much frequented by persons addicted to gaming. There was a room at the back of the premises, where high play was frequently countenanced among the customers, and where Thurtell, almost on his first introduction to the society, lost 300l. at blind hookey in the course of a very short time. Mad at his loss, he appears to have almost formed a resolution to quit a house for ever, where he firmly believed that unfair play was resorted to; but at the persuasion of his new friends, he became reconciled, and seemed to enter into the sporting circles, with somewhat of a determination to endeavour, by any means, to retrieve his own losses, and to profit by the inexperience and indiscretion of any, who might come in his way. He was doomed to be again disappointed, however, and to be again taught a somewhat severe lesson. The fights between Hickman, the Gasman, and Oliver, and between Jack Randall, and Martin “the master of the Rolls,” were at this time on the tapis, and Hickman and Martin were in training at Wade’s Mill, Herts. Thurtell was too good a flat to be given up yet, and on his exhibiting some anxiety to become acquainted with the men, he was conducted to them and introduced to them; the object being to deprive him of any little money, which he might still possess. Weare, who was his subsequent victim, was no less a frequenter of the Brown Bear, and no less an admirer of all the sports of the ring, and of the field; and having by a pretty long acquaintance with the “flash” world obtained a good knowledge of its members, and of its habits and proceedings, he was selected as the “plant,” to be put upon the pigeon, who was to be plucked; or in other words, he was to be introduced to Thurtell as a new hand, and by pretending little acquaintance with the ways of the sporting world, was to draw him out, and then, bringing his real knowledge of all the habits of playmen into operation, was to fleece him of all he possessed. The plan being agreed upon was soon carried out, and another 300l. being eventually won from Thurtell, he swore vengeance against those who, he now clearly found, had conspired to rob him. They saw, however, that it was useless to proceed further against their dupe with any chance of getting anything from him, and in order to conciliate him, they determined to let him into a secret, which cost them nothing, and by which he might be able to secure some return for the losses, which he had sustained, by their instrumentality. He was therefore informed of a “cross,” which was about to take place, that is, an unfair fight, which was to be fought, and by introducing him among their acquaintance, they procured for him a bet, by which he secured a sum of 600l. Thus successful, no effort could induce him to quit a circle, for which he appeared to have formed a strong partiality; and he soon became known as one of a gang of the most unprincipled and successful gamblers. In his rounds, he frequently met Mr. Weare, and it appears that that gentleman had originally possessed a very considerable property, but, unfortunately, from his being a dupe, had himself become a gambler. It was not until Thurtell had been for some time acquainted with this person, however, as will be seen by the evidence, that the plan was laid for his murder; and the inducement for the commission of this diabolical offence is now well known to have been a “private bank,” which Mr. Weare carried about him, in a pocket in an under waistcoat, and to which he had been frequently seen to convey money, when any “chance” turned up in his favour; and from which he had also been seen to take the necessary funds for carrying on any game, when he saw the likelihood of winning by the hazard of a large stake.
The circumstances immediately attending the murder are so fully and so well detailed in the opening speech of Mr. Gurney, (now Mr. Baron Gurney,) who was employed to conduct the prosecution, on the trial, which took place at Hertford, on the 5th January 1824, that it is almost unnecessary to do more than to give it at length.
The prisoners, who stood indicted, were John Thurtell and Joseph Hunt. The former has been already described; the latter was at that time well known as a public singer, and was somewhat celebrated for the talent which he possessed.
Mr. Gurney, in opening the case to the jury, stated that the deceased, Mr. William Weare, was known to be addicted to play, and to be in the habit of frequenting gaming-houses, and that the prisoner, Thurtell, was acquainted with him, and, as it was said, had been wronged by him, in respect to some play, in which they had been engaged, and had been deprived by him of a large sum of money. The prisoner, Hunt, was also known to Mr. Weare, but was not in habits of friendship or intimacy with him. He would next describe a person, whom he should have to call in evidence against the prisoners. He alluded to Probert, who was a party to the murder, after its commission, although it did not appear that he had any hand in its actual perpetration. He was engaged in trade as a spirit-dealer, and he rented a cottage in a secluded spot, called Gill’s Hill Lane, situated about three miles from Elstree. He was himself usually engaged in London, in his business, during the day, and his wife lived at the cottage, which was a small one, and was fully occupied by his wife, her sister, (Miss Noyes,) some children of Thurtell’s brother, Thomas, a maid-servant, and a boy. The vicinity of this cottage was selected by the prisoners as a fit spot for the perpetration of the murder, which had been already determined upon; and the mode of the commission of which, he should now proceed to describe. Thurtell and the deceased met at a billiard-room, kept by one Rexworthy, on the evening of Thursday, the 23rd of October, and being joined there by Hunt, Mr. Weare was invited by Thurtell to go to Probert’s cottage, for the purpose of enjoying some shooting in the neighbourhood, for two or three days. He accepted the invitation, and the following day was fixed for him to meet Thurtell, who promised to drive him down to the place. On the forenoon of the Friday, the deceased called at Rexworthy’s, saying, that he was going out shooting with Thurtell, and at about three o’clock he went home, to the chambers, which he occupied in Lyon’s Inn, and having partaken of a chop dinner, he packed up some clothes in a green carpet bag, and the laundress having called a coach, he went away in it, carrying with him the carpet bag, a double barrelled gun, in a case, together with a back-gammon board, containing dice, &c. He left his chambers in this manner before four o’clock, and drove first to Charing Cross, and afterwards to Maddox-street, Hanover square; thence he proceeded to the New Road, where he got out of the coach, but returned after some time, accompanied by another person, and took his things away. At this time, Thomas and John Thurtell had need of temporary concealment, owing to their inability to provide the bail requisite to meet a charge of misdemeanour; and Probert had procured for them a retreat at Tetsall’s, at the sign of the Coach and Horses, in Conduit-street, where they remained for two or three weeks previous to the murder. On the morning of Friday, the 24th of October, two men, answering in every respect to the description of John Thurtell and Hunt, went to a pawnbroker’s in Mary-le-bone, and purchased a pair of pocket-pistols. In the middle of the same day Hunt hired a gig, and afterwards a horse, under the pretence of going to Dartford, in Kent: and he inquired at the stables where he could purchase a sack and a rope, and was directed to a place over Westminster Bridge, which, he was told, was on his road into Kent. Somewhere, however, it would be found that he did procure a sack and cord; and, on the same afternoon, he met at Tetsall’s Probert, the two Thurtells, and Noyes. Some conversation took place at the time between the parties, and Hunt was heard to ask Probert if he, “would be in it,”—meaning what they (Hunt and John Thurtell) were about. Thurtell drove off from Tetsall’s between four and five o’clock, to take up a friend, as he said to Probert, “to be killed as he travelled with him:” and he requested Probert to bring down Hunt in his own gig. In the course of that evening the prisoner, Thurtell, was seen in a gig, with a horse of an iron-grey colour, with a white face and white legs. He was first seen by a patrol, near Edgeware; beyond that part of the road he was seen by the landlord of a public-house; but from that time, until his arrival at Probert’s cottage, on the same night, there was no direct evidence to trace him. Probert, according to Thurtell’s request, drove Hunt down in his gig, and, having a better horse, on the road they overtook Thurtell and Weare, in the gig, and passed them without notice. They stopped afterwards at a public-house on the road, to drink grog, where they believed Thurtell must have passed them unperceived. Probert afterwards drove Hunt until they reached Phillimore Lodge, where he (Hunt) got out, as he said, by Thurtell’s desire to wait for him. Probert from thence drove alone to Gill’s Hill cottage, in the lane near which he met Thurtell on foot, and alone. Thurtell inquired—Where was Hunt, had he been left behind? and added, that he had done the business without his assistance, and had killed his man. At his desire, Probert then returned to bring Hunt to the spot, and went to Hunt for that purpose. When they met, he told Hunt what had happened. “Why, it was to be done here!” said Hunt, (pointing to a spot nearer Phillimore Lodge,) admitting his privity, and that he had got out to assist in the commission of the deed. When Thurtell rebuked Hunt for his absence, “Why,” said the latter, “you had the tools.” “They were no good,” replied Thurtell, “the pistols were no better than pop-guns: I fired at his cheek, and it glanced off.” He then proceeded to detail to them the mode, in which he had committed the murder. He said that when he fired, Weare jumped out of the gig, cried for mercy, and offered to give up his money; but that he had pursued him up the lane, and finding the pistol useless, had knocked him down; that they then struggled together, and he tried to cut his throat with a pen-knife; but that eventually he had killed him, by driving the barrel of the pistol into his forehead, and then turning it in his brains. Mr. Gurney then continued to state, that a few minutes before the time at which the murder must have been committed, a gig was heard to pass Probert’s cottage at a rapid pace, and the servant boy, who was in momentary expectation of his master’s return, imagined that it was he. He found, however, that he did not arrive at the cottage, and he proceeded about the work on which he was before engaged. In about five minutes after this, some persons who were near the road distinctly heard the report of a gun or pistol, and then voices, as if in contention. Groans were next distinguished; but they became fainter and fainter, and at length they altogether died away. The spot from which these noises proceeded, was Gill’s Hill Lane, near the cottage of Probert. At about nine o’clock Thurtell arrived at the cottage, and although he had started from town accompanied by a friend, he now was alone; but he had with him the double-barrelled gun, the carpet bag, and the backgammon board, which Mr. Weare had taken with him from his chambers. He gave his horse to the boy, and it had the appearance of having been sweated; but it was now cool, and it appeared as if, after having been driven fast, it had been allowed to stand. The boy inquired after his master, and was told that he would soon arrive, and then Thurtell went out again. His meeting with Probert had been already described; and Hunt having been again taken into the gig by the latter, from Phillimore’s Lodge, they all returned to Probert’s cottage together; Thurtell walking by the side of the gig. Probert on his arrival immediately went into the parlour, and acquainted his wife with the circumstance of Thurtell and Hunt having come down, as they were not expected; and presently on their joining him, Hunt, who was a stranger to Mrs. Probert, was formally introduced to her. They then supped on some pork-chops, which Hunt had carried down in the gig from London; and afterwards they all three went out together, professedly with the intention of calling on Mr. Nicholls, a neighbour, but in reality to visit the body of the murdered man. Thurtell conducted his two companions down the lane, and having led them to the spot where the murder was committed, they dragged the body through a hedge into an adjoining field, and there rifled the pockets of his clothes. Thurtell had already taken away his purse and watch, and they now secured a pocket-book, and any other valuables which he had in his possession. They then went back to the cottage, and Thurtell, with a sponge which was in the gig, endeavoured to remove some marks of blood which were on his clothes, many of which were distinctly seen by Probert’s boy; and having been partially successful, they all proceeded again into the parlour. In the course of the evening Thurtell produced a gold watch and seals, but without a chain; and he also displayed a gold curb chain, which when single might be used for a lady’s neck, or when joined, was fit to be used for a watch. Opening the chain, he remarked, that it was more fit for a lady than a gentleman; and he pressed it on Mrs. Probert, and eventually made her accept it. Some conversation then took place, and Hunt sang two or three songs, and then an offer was made, that Miss Noyes’ bed should be prepared for the two visitors, and that Miss Noyes should sleep with the children. This, however, was declined, and Thurtell and Hunt declared that they would rather sit up all night in the parlour. Mrs. Probert and Miss Noyes at length retired to rest, leaving the three men down stairs; but something had raised suspicion in the mind of Mrs. Probert, in consequence of which she did not go to bed, nor undress herself. She went to the window, and, looking out, saw that Probert, Hunt, and Thurtell were in the garden. It would be proved that they went down to the body, and finding it too heavy to be removed, one of the horses was taken from the stable. The body, enclosed in a sack, was then placed across the horse; and stones having been put into the sack, the body, with the sack, was thrown into the pond. Mrs. Probert distinctly saw something heavy drawn across the garden. The parties then returned to the house; and Mrs. Probert, whose fears and suspicions were now most powerfully excited, went down stairs, and listened behind the parlour door. The parties proceeded to share the booty; and Thurtell divided with the rest, money to the amount of six pounds each. The purse, the pocket-book, and certain papers which might lead to detection, were carefully burned. They remained up late; and Probert, when he went to bed, was surprised to find that his wife was not asleep. Hunt and Thurtell still continued to sit up in the parlour. The next morning, as early as six o’clock, Hunt and Thurtell were seen in the lane together. Some men who were at work there observed them, as they called it, “grabbling” for something in the hedge; and being spoken to by these men, Thurtell observed, “that it was a very bad road, and that he had nearly been capsized there last night.” The men said, “I hope you were not hurt.” To which Thurtell answered, “Oh! no, the gig was not upset,” and then went away. These men, thinking something might have been lost on the spot, searched, after Thurtell and Hunt were gone. In one place they found a quantity of blood, further on they discovered a bloody knife, and next they found a bloody pistol—one of the pair which were purchased by Hunt. That pistol bore upon it the marks of blood and of human brains. The spot was afterwards still further examined, and more blood was discovered, which had been concealed by branches and leaves; so that no doubt could be entertained that the murder had been committed in this particular place. On the following morning, Saturday, the 25th of October, Thurtell and Hunt left Probert’s cottage in the gig, carrying away with them the gun, the carpet bag, and the backgammon board, belonging to Mr. Weare. These articles were taken to Hunt’s lodgings, where they were afterwards found. When Hunt arrived in town on Saturday he appeared to be unusually gay: he said, “We Turpin lads can do the trick. I am able to drink wine now, and I will drink nothing but wine;” and he seemed to be very much elated at the recollection of some successful exploit. It was observed that Thurtell’s hands were very much scratched; and some remark having been made on the subject, he stated “that they had been out netting partridges, and that his hands got scratched in that occupation.” On some other points he gave similarly evasive answers. On the Saturday, Hunt had a new spade sent to his lodgings, which he took down to the cottage on Sunday, when he again accompanied Probert in his gig. When he got near Probert’s garden, he told him that it was to dig a hole to bury the body in; and soon after their reaching the house, Thurtell joined them. On that night Probert visited Mr. Nicholls; and in the course of a conversation which took place between them, that gentleman remarked that some persons had heard the report of a gun or pistol in the lane on Friday night, and that he supposed that it was a joke of some of his friends. He denied all knowledge of the circumstance to him, but on his return home he communicated what had passed to Thurtell and Hunt. They were much alarmed at it, and the former declared that “he was baked;” and they all became extremely desirous to conceal the body effectually, more especially as Probert considered that he should be in danger, in the event of its being discovered in his garden. Thurtell and Hunt promised to go down to do it on the next evening; and in order that Probert’s boy should be out of the way, they took him to town with them on the next day, and lodged him at Tetsall’s in Conduit-street. They returned, in obedience to their promise; and while Hunt engaged Mrs. Probert in conversation, Thurtell and Probert went into the garden, and having drawn the body from the pond, placed it in Thurtell’s gig to be carried away. Hunt was then apprised that all was ready; and he and Thurtell drove away with the body, refusing to tell Probert the place in which they intended to conceal it. He should now describe the circumstances under which this fearful and cold-blooded crime had been discovered, and its perpetrators brought to justice. The discharge of the pistol in Gill’s Hill Lane, and the subsequent suspicious finding of the blood-marks, and of the knife and pistol, were circumstances which had induced great alarm in the minds of the inhabitants and magistracy of the surrounding neighbourhood; and although at first there was little to prove the absolute fact of murder having been committed, the whole of the appearances of the case were such as to leave little doubt that the two prisoners and Probert could explain, if they would, the real cause of the events which had produced so much confusion and suspicion. They were all, in consequence, taken into custody; and although Hunt had shaved off his whiskers, which had been previously very large, and had otherwise disfigured himself, he was proved to have hired the horse and gig which Thurtell had taken to Gill’s Hill, and in which it was known that a person who was now nowhere to be found had accompanied him. Strict inquiries were made, and the most active investigation carried on by the magistrates, but nothing could be elicited which could in the slightest degree lead to the discovery of who was in reality the murdered man, for that murder had been committed was now presumed to be beyond a doubt; but at length, on the Thursday morning, Hunt, upon a species of understanding with the magistrates, pointed out a pond near Elstree, at a considerable distance from Probert’s house, and there, sunk to the bottom by means of stones, in a state of nudity and covered only by a sack, were discovered the murdered remains of a man, who afterwards proved to be the unfortunate Mr. Weare, the former friend and companion of the prisoner Thurtell. The learned counsel having stated these circumstances, declared that in order to prove them all, he should be compelled to call before the jury Probert as a witness, who was confessedly privy to the concealment of the body, if not to the actual murder; but he should so build up and corroborate his testimony by that of other witnesses, that he conceived that no doubt could be entertained of its veracity. With regard to the prisoner Hunt: he was charged as an accomplice before the fact. He hired the gig, and he procured the sack. The gun, travelling-bag, and backgammon board, were found in his lodgings. These constituted a part of the plunder of Mr. Weare, and could be possessed only by a person participating in this crime. Besides, there was placed about the neck of Probert’s wife, a chain, which had belonged to Mr. Weare; and round the neck of the murdered man there was found a shawl, which belonged to Thurtell, but which had been seen in the hands of Hunt.
The collateral circumstances were then proved by a variety of witnesses, whose examination occupied the court during several hours.
Ruthven, the officer, deposited on the table a pistol and a pistol-key, a knife, a muslin handkerchief spotted with blood, a shirt similarly stained, and a waistcoat, into the pockets of which bloody hands had been thrust. A coat and a hat marked with blood were also produced, all of which belonged to Thurtell. Ruthven then produced several articles belonging to the deceased—the gun, the carpet bag, and his clothes.
Symmonds the constable, when sworn, took from his pocket a white paper, which he carefully unfolded, and produced to the court the pistol with which the murder had been committed. It was a blue steel-barrelled pistol, with brass about the handle; the pan was open, as the firing had left it, and was smeared with the black of gunpowder and the dingy stain of blood. The barrel was bloody; and in the muzzle a piece of tow was thrust, to keep in the horrid contents, the murdered man’s brains. Against the back of the pan were the short curled hairs, of a silver hue, which had been dug from the dead man’s head, and were glued to the pan firmly with crusted blood.
We shall now give the evidence of Probert and his wife, who were called, and which discloses the circumstances attending the murder, and the disposition of the property of the deceased, with more exact minuteness than the statement of the learned counsel. Probert’s evidence was as follows:
“I occupied a cottage in Gill’s Hill Lane for six months before October last; my family consisted of Mrs. Probert, a servant maid, and a boy. In the month of October, Miss Noyes lived with us, and two children of Thomas Thurtell, a brother of the prisoner’s. I have been for some time past acquainted with the prisoner John Thurtell; and he had often been down to my cottage sporting with me: he knew the road to my cottage, and all the roads thereabouts well. Gill’s Hill Lane, in which my cottage stood, is out of the high road to St. Alban’s, at Radlett; my cottage was about a quarter of a mile from the high road, and fourteen miles and a quarter from Tyburn turnpike. In the latter end of October, the prisoner, John Thurtell, lodged at Tetsall’s, the Coach and Horses, in Conduit-street; Thomas Thurtell lodged there also. On Friday the 24th of that month, I dined at Tetsall’s with John Thurtell and Hunt; and Thomas Thurtell and Noyes were also there. After dinner, Thurtell said something to me about money, and I paid him 5l. which I had borrowed of him four days before. He then said, ‘I think I shall go down to your cottage to-night; are you going down?’ I said that I was, and he asked me to drive Hunt down with me, which I promised to do. Some further conversation took place, and he said, ‘I expect a friend to meet me this evening a little after five; and if he comes, I shall go down. If I have an opportunity, I mean to do him; for he is a man that has robbed me of several hundreds. I have told Hunt where to stop; I shall want him about a mile and a half beyond Elstree.’ He then desired me to give Hunt, who had just come in, a pound, and I did so; and Thurtell told him, in case I should not go, to hire a horse and to go to Elstree, saying, ‘You know where to stop for me.’ Hunt made no answer. At a little after five o’clock, Thurtell started from the Coach and Horses in a gig. He drove a dark grey horse; and I went away some time afterwards with Hunt in my vehicle. In Oxford-street Hunt got out and bought a loin of pork for supper; and at the end of Oxford-street he remarked, ‘This is the place where Jack is to take up his friend.’ We then drove on, and about four miles from London we overtook Thurtell, who was driving, accompanied by another man. Hunt said, ‘There they are; drive by and take no notice. It’s all right; Jack has got him.’ We, in consequence, passed on; and when we got to the Baldfaced Stag, about seven miles from London, and two miles short of Edgeware, we stopped. It was then about a quarter before seven o’clock. On our way I asked Hunt who the man was who was in the gig with Thurtell; but he answered, ‘You are not to know his name; you never saw him; you know nothing of him.’ I went into the Baldfaced Stag, as I supplied the house with liquor; but Hunt walked on, saying, ‘I won’t go in, because I have not returned those horse-cloths I borrowed.’ I stopped about twenty minutes; and then I drove on, and overtook Hunt at about a quarter of a mile from Edgeware. I took him up, and we drove on to Mr. Clarke’s at Edgeware, and there we had a glass of brandy and water. A little further on we bought half a bushel of corn for the horse, and put it in the gig; and then we went on to the Artichoke, kept by Mr. Field. It wanted now only about eight minutes of eight; and Hunt said, ‘I wonder where Thurtell is; he can’t have passed us.’ We pulled up at the Artichoke, and had four or five glasses of brandy and water; and we stayed there more than three quarters of an hour, waiting for Thurtell to come up with us. We then drove on; and at Mr. Phillimore’s Lodge, which is about a mile and a half further on, Hunt said that ‘he should remain there for John Thurtell;’ and he got out on the road. I drove through Radlett, towards my own cottage; and when I was within about a hundred yards of it, I met Thurtell on foot. He cried out, ‘Hallo! where is Hunt?’ and I answered that I had left him at Phillimore’s Lodge, waiting for him. He replied, ‘I don’t want him now; for I have done the trick.’ He said that he had killed his friend that he had brought down with him; he had ridded the country of a villain, who had robbed him of three or four hundred pounds!’ I said, ‘Good God! I hope you have not killed the man?’ and he said, ‘It’s of no consequence to you, you don’t know him; you never saw him: do you go back and fetch Hunt—you know best where you left him!’ I returned to the place where I left Hunt, and found him near the same spot. Thurtell did not go. I said to Hunt when I took him up, ‘John Thurtell is at my house—he has killed his friend;’ and Hunt said, ‘Thank God, I am out of it; I am glad he has done it without me: I can’t think where the devil he could pass; I never saw him pass anywhere, but I’m glad I’m out of it.’ He said, ‘This is the place where we were to have done it’ (meaning near Phillimore’s Lodge). I asked him who the man was, and he said, ‘You don’t know him, and I shall not tell you;’ he said it was a man that had robbed Jack of several hundred pounds, and they meant to have it back again. By that time I had reached my own house; John Thurtell stood at the gate as we drove into the yard. Hunt said, ‘Thurtell, where could you pass me?’ Thurtell replied, ‘It don’t matter where I passed you; I’ve done the trick—I have done it. But what the devil did you let Probert stop drinking at his d—d public-houses for, when you knew what was to be done?’ Hunt said, ‘I made sure you were behind, or else we should not have stopped.’ Having taken the loin of pork in the kitchen, and given it to the servant to cook for supper, I went into the parlour and introduced Hunt to Mrs. Probert; he had never been there before. Thurtell followed immediately; we had stopped in the yard a short time before we went in, and when I spoke to my wife, I told her that we were going to Mr. Nicholls’s to ask for a day’s shooting. We then went out together, Thurtell carrying a sack and a cord with him, which he had taken from the gig. We went down the lane, and I carried the lantern. As we went along, Thurtell said, ‘I began to think, Hunt, you would not come;’ when Hunt answered, ‘We made sure you were behind.’ I walked foremost; and Thurtell said, ‘Probert, he is just beyond the second turning.’ When he came to the second turning, he said, ‘It’s a little further on,’ and he at length said, ‘This is the place.’ We then looked about for a pistol and knife, but could not find either; we got over the hedge and there found the body lying; the head was bound up in a shawl, I think a red one. Thurtell searched the deceased’s pockets, and found a pocket-book containing three five-pound notes, a memorandum-book, and some silver. He said, ‘This is all he has got; I took the watch and purse when I killed him.’ The body was then put into the sack head foremost; the sack came to the knees, and was tied with a cord; we left the body there, and went towards home. On our way Thurtell explained how he had killed him. He said, ‘When I first shot him, he jumped out of the gig and ran like the devil, singing out that ‘he would deliver all he had, if I’d only spare his life.’ I jumped out of the gig and ran after him: I got him down, and began to cut his throat, as I thought, close to the jugular vein; but I could not stop his singing out: I then jammed the pistol into his head; I gave it a turn round; and then I knew I had done him.’ Turning to Hunt, he said, ‘Joe, you ought to have been with me, for I thought at one time he would have got the better of me. Those d—d pistols are like spits, they are of no use.’ Hunt remarked, that he should have thought one of the pistols would have killed him dead, but that at all events he had plenty of ‘tools’ with him; and then we entered the house and had our supper. In the course of the evening Thurtell produced a handsome gold watch and seals, and a gold chain. He offered the chain to Mrs. Probert, saying, that it was more fit for a lady than a gentleman: but she at first refused it, although after a time she consented to accept it as a present. He then put the watch and seals into his pocket. A proposal was then made, that Hunt and Thurtell should sleep in Miss Noyes’ bed, and that Miss Noyes should sleep with Thomas Thurtell’s children; but they refused to consent to such a course, and declared that they would rather sit up and take a turn on the sofa. Hunt then sang two or three songs, and Mrs. Probert and Miss Noyes went to bed between twelve and one o’clock. When they had retired, Thurtell produced a pocket-book, a purse, and a memorandum-book. The purse contained sovereigns, but I cannot say how many. He took three five-pound notes from the pocket-book, and giving a note and sovereign to Hunt, and a similar sum to me, said, ‘That’s your share of the blunt.’ The papers and books were burned, to avoid any discovery, and then the carpet bag was examined. Its contents were replaced, and, as well as the backgammon board and the gun, were taken away on the ensuing day, by Hunt and Thurtell, in a gig. When this examination was completed, Thurtell said, ‘I mean to have Barber Beaumont after this, and Woods.’ The former is a director to an insurance company, with whom Thurtell had had some dispute; and the latter kept company with Miss Noyes. A general conversation then took place, the particulars of which I cannot recollect; and he may have mentioned other names, but I do not now remember them. At length Thurtell said, ‘Well, Joe, we must go and get the body, and put it in the pond, meaning the pond in my garden. I said, ‘By G—d, you shan’t put it in my pond, or you will be my ruin;’ but at length they induced me to consent, Thurtell saying, ‘Had it not been for Hunt’s mistake, I should have killed him in the other lane, and then returned to town and inquired of his friends why he had not come.’ The two prisoners then went out together, and I waited for their coming back; but in a short time they returned, and Hunt said, ‘Probert, he’s too heavy; we cannot carry him; we have only brought him a little way.’ Thurtell invited me to accompany them, and said, that he would put the bridle on his horse to fetch the body; and then we all went out together. We took the horse from the stable, and Thurtell and I went and fetched the body, while Hunt remained at the gate. The horse having been put into the stable again, we dragged the body down the garden, and putting some stones into the sack, we threw it into the pond. The man’s feet were then found to be, perhaps, half a foot above the water; and Thurtell got a cord, threw it over the legs, and giving me one end, while he held the other, we drew the body into the centre of the pond, where it sunk out of sight. We all three then returned to the cottage, and I went to bed almost immediately. I found my wife up. Next morning I came down about nine o’clock. Thurtell said, in presence of Hunt, that they had been down the lane, to look for the pistol and knife, but neither could be found. They asked me to go down the lane and seek them, in the course of the day; which I promised to do: but when I went down the lane, I saw a man at work near the spot. That morning they went away after breakfast. On Sunday they came down again; and Thomas Thurtell and Mr. Noyes came also. Hunt brought a new spade with him. He said it was to dig a grave for the deceased. Hunt returned with the gig after setting down Thomas Thurtell, and brought out John Thurtell and Noyes. Hunt was very dirtily dressed when he came down, and went up stairs to change. When he came down, he was well dressed—in almost new clothes; and he said the clothes belonged to the deceased: he told me he had thrown a new spade over the hedge into my garden, and I found it there afterwards. John Thurtell and I walked to the pond. He asked me, if the body had risen? I said no; and he said it would lie there for a month. In the afternoon Hewart called, and I went with him to Mr. Nicholls’s. On my return, I told Thurtell and Hunt that Mr. Nicholls had told me, that some one had fired a pistol or gun off, in Gill’s Hill Lane, on Friday night, and that there were cries of murder, as though some one had been killed. He said it was about eight o’clock, and added, ‘I suppose it was done by some of your friends, to frighten each other.’ John Thurtell said, ‘Then I am booked.’ I said, ‘I am afraid it’s a bad job, as Mr. Nicholls seems to know all about it; I am very sorry it ever happened here, as I fear it will be my ruin.’ Thurtell said, ‘Never mind, Probert, they can do nothing with you;’ and I declared that the body must be immediately taken out of my pond again. Thurtell answered, ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Probert: after you are all gone to bed, Joe and I will take the body up and bury it.’ But I told them that would be just as bad, if they buried it in the garden. John Thurtell said, ‘I’ll bury him where you nor no one else can find him.’ As John Thurtell was going into the parlour, Hunt said, ‘Probert, they can do nothing with you or me, even if they do find it out, as we were neither of us at the murder.’ Thurtell and Hunt sat up all that night: I, Noyes, and Thomas Thurtell went to bed. Thomas Thurtell slept with his children. In the morning, John Thurtell and Hunt said that they had gone to dig a grave, but the dogs were barking all night, and they thought some one was about the ground; and he added, ‘Joe and I will come down to-night and take him quite away, and that will be better for you altogether.’ Thomas Thurtell and Hunt, and my boy, Addis, went away in one chaise after breakfast and John Thurtell, Thomas Noyes, and Miss Noyes in another. The boy was sent to town to be out of the way. That evening John Thurtell and Hunt came again in a gig about nine: they took supper; after supper, John Thurtell and I went to the stable, leaving Hunt talking to Mrs. Probert. Thurtell said, ‘Come, let’s get the body up; while Hunt is talking to Mrs. Probert, she will not suspect.’ We went to the pond, and got the body up; we took it out of the sack, and cut all the clothes from it, and then we returned to the house, leaving the body naked on the grass. After a short time we all three went into the stables and took out Thurtell’s gig; and Thurtell having produced from it a new sack and a cord, we put the body into the former, and then Hunt and Thurtell put it into the gig; but I refused to have anything more to do with it: they then drove away with it. On the ensuing morning I destroyed the clothes which we had cut from the body, and subsequently on the same day I was taken into custody.”
Mrs. Probert, on being examined, corroborated the testimony of her husband with regard to all the circumstances which occurred in the cottage up to the time of her going to bed on the Friday night. She then went on to say—“On my going up stairs, I did not go to bed directly, and my curiosity being aroused at my husband remaining below, I went to the head of the stairs to listen. I leaned over the banisters, and I heard a whispering going on, and what I took to be a trying on of clothes. The first words which I could distinguish were, ‘This, I think, will fit you very well.’ There was then a sound as of the rustling of papers on the table; and then they seemed to be thrown on the fire and burned. I afterwards went into my own chamber, and subsequently hearing something in the garden, I looked out. I saw two men go from the parlour to the stable; and then they led a horse out, and opening the yard gate, they took the horse into the lane. Some time after that, I again heard them in the garden; and there seemed to be something heavy dragged along the path. It appeared to be dragged in a direction from the stable to the garden, along the dark walk. I looked out, and had a view of it as they took it out of the dark walk, and it looked to be in a sack. After this I heard a noise, which sounded to me like a heap of stones thrown into a pit—I can describe it in no other way. In addition to the conversation which I have already detailed as having taken place in the parlour, I also heard a voice, which I think was Hunt’s, say, ‘Let us take a five-pound note each.’ I did not hear Thurtell say anything; but then I heard my husband say, ‘We must say that there was a hare thrown up in the gig, on the cushion—we must tell the boy so in the morning.’ I next heard a voice, I can’t exactly tell whose say, ‘We had better be off to town by four or five o’clock in the morning;’ and then, I think, John Thurtell it was, who said, ‘We had better not go before eight or nine o’clock;’ and the parlour door then shut. I heard John Thurtell say also (I think it was his voice), ‘Holding shall be next.’ I rather think it was Hunt who next spoke; he asked, ‘Has he (Holding) got money?’ John Thurtell replied, ‘It is not money I want, it is revenge; it is Holding who has ruined my friend here.’ I did not at first understand who this friend was; I believe it meant Mr. Probert, my husband. I cannot say whether Holding had anything to do in the transactions of my husband’s bankruptcy. ‘It was Holding,’ said John Thurtell, ‘who ruined my friend here, and destroyed my peace of mind.’ My husband came to bed about half-past one or two o’clock; I believe it was; I did not know the hour exactly.”
The whole of the evidence in support of the case for the prosecution having now been adduced, the learned judge inquired of the jury, whether they conceived that it would be better at once to proceed to the conclusion of the case; or whether they would prefer that the defence of the prisoners should be postponed until the morning. The jury expressed their wish that the case should be at once concluded; but at the desire of the prisoner Thurtell, who respectfully pressed on their attention the long and harassing time he had stood at that bar, and begged for a night’s cessation to recruit his strength, previous to making his defence, the court adjourned, the jury being locked up until the following morning.
The trial then proceeded, and Ruthven and Thomas Thurtell being recalled to be examined on some trifling points, in a short time Mr. Justice Park informed John Thurtell, that he was ready to hear any observations he had to make.
The prisoner then commenced his defence;—speaking in a deep, measured, and unshaken tone, and using a studied and theatrical action.
“My Lord, and Gentlemen of the Jury—Under greater difficulties than ever man encountered, I now rise to vindicate my character and defend my life. I have been supported in this hour of trial, by the knowledge that my cause is heard before an enlightened tribunal, and that the free institutions of my country have placed my destiny in the hands of twelve men, who are uninfluenced by prejudice, and unawed by power. I have been represented by the press, which carries its benefits or curses on rapid wings from one extremity of the kingdom to the other, as a man more depraved, more gratuitously and habitually profligate and cruel, than has ever appeared in modern times. I have been held up to the world as the perpetrator of a murder, under circumstances of greater aggravation, of more cruel and premeditated atrocity, than it ever before fell to the lot of man to have seen or heard of. I have been held forth to the world as a depraved, heartless, remorseless, prayerless villain, who had seduced my friend into a sequestered path, merely in order to despatch him with the greater security—as a snake who had crept into his bosom only to strike a sure blow—as a monster, who, after the perpetration of a deed from which the hardest heart recoils with horror, and at which humanity stands aghast, washed away the remembrance of my guilt in the midst of riot and debauchery. You, gentlemen, must have read the details, which have been daily, I may say, hourly published regarding me. It would be requiring more than the usual virtue of our nature to expect that you should entirely divest your minds of those feelings which such relations must have excited; but I am satisfied, that as far as it is possible for men to enter into a grave investigation with minds unbiassed, and judgments unimpaired, after the calumnies with which the public has been deluged—I say, I am satisfied, that with such minds and such judgments, you have this day assumed your sacred office. The horrible guilt which has been attributed to me is such as could not have resulted from custom, but must have been the innate principle of my infant mind, and must have ‘grown with my growth, and strengthened with my strength.’ But I will call before you gentlemen whose characters are unimpeachable, and whose testimony must be above suspicion, who will tell you, that the time was, when my bosom overflowed with all the kindly feelings; and that even my failings were those of an improvident generosity, and an unsuspecting friendship. Beware then, gentlemen, of an anticipated verdict. Do not suffer the reports which you have heard to influence your judgment. Do not believe that a few short years can have reversed the course of nature, and converted the good feelings which I possessed, into that spirit of malignant cruelty, to which only demons can attain. A kind, affectionate, and a religious mother, directed the tender steps of my infancy in the paths of piety and virtue. My rising youth was guided in ‘the way that it should go,’ by a father, whose piety was universally known and believed—whose kindness and charity extended to all who came within the sphere of its influence. After leaving my paternal roof, I entered into the service of our late revered monarch, who was justly entitled the ‘Father of his people.’ You will learn from some of my honourable companions, that while I served under his colours, I never tarnished their lustre. The country which is dear to me I have served; I have fought for her; I have shed my blood for her; I feared not in the open field to shed the blood of her declared foes. But oh! to suppose that on that account I was ready to raise the assassin’s arm against my friend, and with that view to draw him into secret places for his destruction—it is monstrous, horrible, incredible. I have been represented to you as a man who was given to gambling, and the constant companion of gamblers. To this accusation, in some part, my heart with feeling penitence pleads guilty. I have gambled. I have been a gambler, but not for the last three years. During that time I have not attended or betted upon a horse-race, or a fight, or any public exhibition of that nature. If I have erred in these things, half the nobility of the land have been my examples: some of the most enlightened statesmen of the country have been my companions in them. I have indeed been a gambler. I have been an unfortunate one. But whose fortune have I ruined?—whom undone?—My own family have I ruined, undone myself! At this moment I feel the distress of my situation. But, gentlemen, let not this misfortune entice your verdict against me. Beware of your own feelings, when you are told by the highest authority, that the heart of a man is deceitful above all things. Beware, gentlemen, of an anticipated verdict. It is the remark of a very sage and experienced writer of antiquity, that no man becomes wicked all at once. And with this, which I earnestly request you to bear in mind, I proceed to lay before you the whole career of my life. I will not tire you with tedious repetitions, but I will disclose enough of my past life to inform your judgments; leaving it to your clemency to supply whatever little defects you may observe. You will consider my misfortunes, and the situation in which I stand—the deep anxiety that I must feel—the object for which I have to strive. You may suppose something of all this; but oh! no pencil, though dipped in the lines of heaven, can pourtray my feelings at this crisis. Recollect, I again entreat you, my situation, and allow something for the workings of a mind little at ease; and pity and forgive the faults of my address. The conclusion of the late war, which threw its lustre upon the fortunes of the nation generally, threw a gloomy shadow over mine. I entered into a mercantile life with feelings as kind, and with a heart as warm, as I had carried with me in the service. I took the commercial world as if it had been governed by the same regulations as the army. I looked upon merchants as if they had been my mess companions. In the transactions I had with them, my purse was as open, my heart as warm to answer their demands, as they had been to my former associates. I need not say that any fortune, however ample, would have been insufficient to meet such a course of conduct. I, of course, became the subject of a commission of bankruptcy. My solicitor, in whom I had foolishly confided as my most particular friend, I discovered, too late, to have been a traitor—a man who was foremost in the ranks of my bitterest enemies. But for that man, I should still have been enabled to regain a station in society, and I should have yet preserved the esteem of my friends, and, above all, my own self-respect. But how often is it seen that the avarice of one creditor destroys the clemency of all the rest, and forever dissipates the fair prospects of the unfortunate debtor! With the kind assistance of Mr. Thomas Oliver Springfield, I obtained the signature of all my creditors to a petition for superseding my bankruptcy. But just then, when I flattered myself that my ill fortune was about to close—that my blossoms were ripening—there came “a frost—a nipping frost.” My chief creditor refused to sign, unless he was paid a bonus of 300l. upon his debt beyond all the other creditors. This demand was backed by the man who was at the time his and my solicitor. I spurned the offer—I awakened his resentment. I was cast upon the world—my all disposed of—in the deepest distress. My brother afterwards availed himself of my misfortune, and entered into business. His warehouses were destroyed by the accident of a fire, as has been proved by the verdict of a jury on a trial at which the venerable judge now present presided. But that accident, unfortunate as it was, has been taken advantage of in order to insinuate that he was guilty of crime, because his property was destroyed by it, as will be proved by the verdict of an honest and upright jury in an action for conspiracy, which will be tried ere long before the Chief Justice of the King’s Bench. A conspiracy that was, but where? Why, in the acts of the prosecutor himself, Mr. Barber Beaumont, who was guilty of suborning witnesses, and who will be proved to have paid for false testimony. Yes; this professed friend of the aggrieved,—this pretended prosecutor of public abuses,—this self-appointed supporter of the laws, who panders to rebellion, and has had the audacity to raise its standard in the front of the royal palace—this man, who has just head enough to continue crime, but not heart enough to feel its consequences,—this is the real author of the conspiracy, which will shortly undergo legal investigation. To these particulars I have thought it necessary to call your attention, in language which you may think perhaps too warm—in terms not so measured, but that they may incur your reproof. But