CHAPTER IV.

NEWGATE IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

(AFTER THE GREAT FIRE).

NEWGATE was refronted and refaced in 1638 in the manner already described.[63] No further change or improvement was made in the building until a total re-edification became inevitable, after the great fire in 1666. Of the exact effect of that conflagration upon the prison gate-house I can discover no authentic records. Knight, in his ‘London,’ gives a woodcut of the burning of Newgate, designed by Fussel, which many dismissed as imaginative rather than historically accurate. The gate as represented is altogether larger than it could possibly have been, and the aspect of the structure is very much what a nineteenth century artist would conceive a mediæval prison would be. According to a writer in the ‘Gentleman’s Magazine’ for April, 1764, Newgate was only damaged, not destroyed, in the great fire. He goes on to speak of the “present beautiful structure,” an edifice so inadequate for prison purposes, it may be remarked that it had already been condemned at this date, and schemes for its entire reconstruction propounded. This beautiful structure as represented in the woodcut is thus described by the above-mentioned writer:—

“The west side is adorned with three ranges of Tuscan pilasters with their entablatures, and in the inter columniations are four niches, in one of which is a figure representing Liberty; the word ‘libertas’ is inscribed on her cap, and at her feet lies a cat in allusion to Sir Richard Whittington, a benefactor to the prison, who is said to have made the first step to his advancement and good fortune by a cat. The inside of the gate is also adorned with a range of pilasters, with their entablatures, and in their niches

The Gate

are the figures of Justice, Mercy, and Truth.... Newgate,” he continues, “considered as a prison is a structure of more cost and beauty than was necessary, because the sumptuousness of the outside but aggravates the misery of the wretches within; but as a gate to such a city as London, it might have received considerable additions both of design and execution, and abundantly answered the cost in the reputation of the building. The gate of a city, erected rather for ornament than use, ought to be in the style of the triumphal arches.... If Newgate be considered as a prison, it is indeed a very dismal one. It is the county gaol for Middlesex both for debtors and malefactors, as well as the city prison for criminals. The debtor, rendered unfortunate by the vicissitudes of trade or unforeseen losses, has the reproach of being confined in the same prison with the greatest villains, and too often his being in Newgate is imputed by the ignorant to crimes which he abhors. On the other hand, those confined as criminals are, even before they are found guilty by the laws of their country, packed so close together that the air being corrupted, ... occasions a dismal, contagious disease called the gaol distemper, which has frequently carried off great numbers, and even spread its contagion to the Court of Justice, where they take their trials. But to prevent these dreadful effects the city has introduced a ventilator on the top of Newgate to expel the foul air, and make room for the admission of such as is fresh; and during the sessions herbs are also spread in the Justice Hall and the passages to it to prevent infection. However, as these precautions, with some others, have often proved ineffectual, and as the prison in its present state is far from being commodious, it was lately resolved by the Common Council of the city of London to petition Parliament for leave to build a new prison in a more commodious place.”

An accurate and detailed account of the interior of the 1667 prison has been preserved in a small work published in 1724, and written by “B. L. of Twickenham.” This book purports to be “an accurate description of Newgate, with the rights, privileges, allowances, fees, dues, and customs thereof, together with a parallel between the master debtors’ side and the several spunging houses in the county of Middlesex, 1724.” The author’s short historical preface contains no new facts. It is when he proceeds to describe the inside of the building, such as he evidently knew it from personal inspection, that his account becomes interesting. He gives no illustrations, but I have constructed plans of each floor from the descriptions in the letter-press, which may assist the reader in understanding the text.

Before proceeding to a detailed description of the various chambers and cellars into which the interior was divided, it will be well to recount briefly the general divisions to be found within Newgate. These were—

At the entrance, on the threshold of the prison, was the lodge, “where prisoners were first received, and where they were generally fettered if the cause of their imprisonment require it.” Other writers less favourably disposed than B. L. affirm that almost all prisoners without exception were in those days ironed upon reception, whatever their condition. This, in effect, was one of the many acts of extortion practised without let or hindrance by the gaolers of the past. Debtors and unconvicted persons were clapped into manacles for a time, and until they were terrified into purchasing release; the most heinous offenders were also heavily weighted until they chose to purchase “easement,” and choice of a lighter set of chains. There was no reception ward in Newgate such as we understand it, but hard by the lodge was a chamber which served as a first resting-place for most male prisoners, as well as the last for not a few. The condemned hold for males, says B. L., is situated “adjacent to the lodge.” Another writer, the author of ‘The History of the Press-Yard,’ states more precisely that the men’s condemned hold, “falsely supposed a noisome vault underground, lies between the top and bottom of the arch under Newgate.” It was only imperfectly lighted, a “dark opace wild room,” entered by a hatch, about twenty feet in length and fifteen in breadth. The floor was of stone, but on it was a wooden barrack bed raised, “whereon you may repose yourself if your nose suffers you to rest.” Along and above this bed-place are “divers ring bolts, wherein such prisoners are locked as are disorderly. There is only one window, which is so very small that very little light comes thereby, so that the room is very dark. It is customary,” adds B. L., “when any felons are brought to the lodge in Newgate, to put them first in this condemned hold, where they remain till they have paid two-and-sixpence, after which they are admitted to the masters’ or common felons’ side.” This is a mild way of describing the custom already referred to.

I. From the lodge admission was gained at once to the Master Debtors’ Side. The principal room, in dimensions twenty-five feet by fifteen, was the Hall Ward (1), which lay to the southern side of the prison, and owned one window, five feet by six, with two casements for air. In the midst of the west side of this ward was a fire-place and good chimney, in which burnt constantly a fire of sea-coal for the general benefit. It had also wooden benches and a good common table; and in the north-west corner was a bench and shelf of wood, on which scullery work was performed. Six and a half feet above the floor, on the north and east sides, was a gallery, supported by fir-posts, wherein were five partitions for beds, one at the end of the other. These beds were made of flock, and were “of their kind very good;” the charge was half-a-crown per week per bed, and for sheets two shillings per month, “paid at the time of receiving them.” Doors on the debtors’ side were locked at 9 P.M. and opened at 8 A.M. The last arrival had to keep all clean, or pay two pence daily to have it done. “Underneath the gallery in this Hall ward is a very good place for the prisoners therein to walk at their pleasure, which advantage the other wards are deficient of.”

The King’s Bench Ward (2) lay over the Hall Ward. Its dimensions were twenty-one feet by fifteen, and it was ten feet high. It had one window six feet by four, with a southern aspect probably like that of the Hall ward. The bed partitions were the same, but on the floor, which was of oak plank. The fees too were similar. The Stone Ward (3), alongside, is described as the very best, and pleasantly situated over the gateway towards Holborn, and therefore facing west. But the beds were all on the floor, which was of stone, with fire-place fees and so forth, as in the other rooms. At the head of the stairs, between the King’s Bench Ward and the Stone Ward, was a small apartment called “my Lady’s Hold,” in which were only two beds, for the accommodation of any female debtors who came to the master’s side. “This small apartment,” says one author (B. L.), “is the very worst part of the master’s side.”

II. The lowermost apartment in the Master Felons’ Side was a large cellar (4), some four feet below the level of the street, comprising a central drinking-room or hall, with three wards alongside, two of which were appropriated to men and one to women. Prices ruled as follows in this underground tavern: wine was sold at 2s. a bottle, strong drink at 4d. per quart, and brandy at 4d. per quartern. A “cellar-man,” so called, was selected by the turnkeys from among the prisoners for the regulation and government of his fellows, who was allowed to make what profit he could on the sale of candles, as well as a penny upon every quart of beer or bottle of wine sold, “with other advantages.” Immediately over the drinking vaults was “a spacious hall,” named the “Gigger” (5), after the small grate or gigger in the door, at which prisoners in the various wards on this side were permitted to have interviews with their friends from outside. The privilege of entrance to this hall, or to the cellar below, was conceded only on payment of a fee of 1s. 6d. per diem. The same sum was charged to any felon’s friend who was admitted to the gigger, and desired to see his friends in the tap-room; besides which they paid the cellar-man for a candle to light them down, and the price of a quart of beer, or 5d. Above the gigger again stairs led to the first ward (6), in which was “a good light, a good fire-place, and convenient lodging-rooms, as also very good flock beds, for the use of which each felon pays 3s. 6d. per week. Over this ward are the other two (7 and 8), which are both of the same magnitude and light, with the like appurtenances belonging thereto.” B. L. further tells us that the prisoners were generally utilized for all prison services. Not only did they perform all menial offices, and distribute the allowance of food, such as it was, but they were also employed to rivet on and remove the irons of their fellows. Discipline even was entrusted to them; and B. L. speaks of certain prisoners who maintained order “with a flexible weapon, to the great terror and smart of those who dispute their authority. Every felon at his coming in pays 14s. 10d. for fees and garnish money only, 1s. 6d. for coals, and 1s. to be spent amongst the prisoners of the ward.”

III. The Common Side for Debtors comprised four apartments, all situate towards Newgate Street, in other words, facing north. The ground-floor apartment was named the “Stone Hall” (9); its dimensions are not given, but it owned a cistern for water, and on the north side a chimney, “in which no fires are made except at Christmas, when there is a quantity of beef boiled there to be given to the felons.” This Stone Hall led to some subordinate chambers; in the north-east angle was the iron hold for fetters, and in the south-east a chamber for the confinement of refractory prisoners, styled “the Partner’s room,” where four men could lie at a time. In the south-west of the room was a large place called the “tap-house,” in which were sold beer, ale, brandy, wine, tobacco, and pipes, at the customary prices, “which of their kind are absolutely good.” Of the tap-house itself B. L. speaks in less complimentary terms. “It is great pity,” he says, “that greater decorum is not maintained among the prisoners of the common side, especially in the tap-house, for therein, by connivance, the felons are permitted to converse and drink with the debtors; by which means such wretchedness abounds therein, that the place has the exact aspect of hell itself, and by this means ’tis much to be questioned whether one debtor in ten who enters therein an honest man comes out the same, the wickedness of the place is so great.”

At the west side of the Stone Hall was a staircase, leading to a large room called “High Hall” (10), wherein felons alone were admitted to walk. I have placed this High Hall in the plan on that part of the gate-house which lay to the north side of Holborn. There is no precise evidence that it was exactly so situated, but as all other rooms on this first floor can be pretty accurately placed, I think the conclusion is just that High Hall was approximately where I have put it. High Hall was large, being thirty-three feet by twenty-eight, and in altitude twelve. In the midst of the place was a stone anvil, whereon the irons were knocked off the unhappy persons sentenced to death, when they came down from the chapel (on the third floor), on their way to the cart which was to carry them to Tyburn.

Opposite the entrance to the tap-house was a passage leading to a second common-side debtors room. This came to be called “Tangier” (11) in due course, no doubt from the stifling atmosphere. “The air in this ward is very bad,” says B. L., “occasioned by the multitude of the prisoners in it, and the filthiness of their lodging.” The room was large, but “dark and stinking,” and it only contained “divers barracks for the prisoners to lie on.” Debtors’ Hall (12), a third room for common-side debtors, was on the floor above. It also faced Newgate Street, and being higher up, enjoyed very good air and light. It had a very large window, which was, however, unglazed, and subjected the prisoners not only to the weather, but also to all kinds of rain, snow, sleet, &c., which the north-eastern winds produce. Unlike those in Tangier, the prisoners in Debtors’ Hall had no barrack-beds to lie on, and were obliged therefore to sleep upon the boarded floor. Close by Debtors’ Hall was a kind of kitchen, containing a large fire-place and grate, and known in B. L.’s time as the Hangman’s, or Jack Ketch’s kitchen, “because it is the place in which that honest fellow boils the quarters of such men as have been executed for treason.”[64] Over this kitchen again, on the third floor, that is to say, was “an indifferent good ward,” called the Women’s Ward (13), and devoted to common debtors of that sex.

These poor debtors were but ill lodged and provided for. They had no firing save what they themselves found. They had to provide their own beds or sleep on the boards supplied by the sheriffs. But every debtor on the common side was allowed “each day one coarse household wheaten loaf, almost the bigness of a common penny white loaf; and there is also given a certain quantity of beef every week, in proportion to the number of debtors. Every debtor at his entrance paid 11s. 6d. garnish money, which was expended among the prisoners of the ward, and on discharge or removal a further fee of 7s. 10d. as on the master’s side. ‘The conversation of these debtors,’ says B. L., ‘was generally very profligate, being, as before mentioned, perpetually drinking and conversing with the felons.’”

IV. The Common Felons’ Side, which was adjacent to that for the common debtors, was evidently a foul disgrace to the prison and to those charged with the administration of the law. B. L. describes it as “a most terrible, wicked, and dreadful place.” In this side were five wards. The first, known as the Stone Hold (14), was an underground dungeon lying beneath the “middle ward,” which I fix somewhere near the Tangier Ward of the debtors’ common side. “The Stone Hold,” says the authority already quoted, “was a terrible, stinking, dark, and dismal place, situate underground, into which no daylight can come. It was paved with stone; the prisoners had no beds, and lay on the pavement, whereby they endured great misery and hardship. The unhappy persons imprisoned therein are such as at their unfortunate entrance cannot pay the customary fees of the gaol.” Alongside the Stone Hold was the “Lower Ward” (15), another large dungeon, in which were confined felons for non-payment of fines. The Middle Ward (16), on the floor above, was for those who had paid their bare fees, no more. Here also they had no beds, but the floor on which they lay was of oak, not stone. There were two wards for common female felons. The first, on this second floor, was called “Waterman’s Hall” (17), a very dark and stinking place; the floor is of oaken planks, which is all the bed allotted to its miserable inhabitants. Water was, however, well supplied to this ward. Close by it were other rooms applied to ghastly uses. One was the “press-room,” still used in the writer’s time for the execution of the frightful sentence of pressing to death culprits arraigned who refused to plead; another the Bilbows,[65] adjacent to the press room, also very dark, “and used as a refractory cell for such as occasioned quarrel or disturbance.” Near this again was the women’s condemned hold, “a small, dark, dismal dungeon, wherein is a barrack for the prisoners to lie on, but no fire-place, and it is therefore cold at all times. A second ward (18) for common side females existed on the third, or floor above all, “the highest part of the whole gaol in the north part thereof, and is of large extent, in which is one window only, and that very small.” Barracks were fixed on the walls on each side, but without any kind of bed whatsoever. “The persons imprisoned therein were generally those that lie for transportation, and they, knowing their time to be short here, rather than bestow one minute towards cleaning the same, suffer themselves to live far worse than swine, and, to speak the truth, the Augean Stable would bear no comparison to it, for they are almost poisoned by their own filth, and their conversation is nothing but one

continued course of swearing, cursing, and debauchery, insomuch that it passes all description and belief.... It is with no small concern,” he adds, “that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men, not only in respect to nastiness and indecency of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can be.”

These remarks, unhappily, are fully borne out by more modern experience. Female prisoners are, as a rule, far worse than the male.

V. The one division remaining, and commonly called the Press-Yard and Castle, was quite the best part of the prison. The entrance was at the base of the stairs between the common debtors’ and the common felons’ sides. It was composed of “divers large spacious rooms,” on all three floors: those on the ground and first floor faced towards east and south; those on the second—the Castle so called—to the west. These rooms were all well supplied with light and air, free from all ill smells, and possessed all necessary appurtenances. A yard or place for walking in the open air was attached to this side, and was situate between the door or postern which entered from Newgate Street and the fabric itself. This yard, which was fifty-four feet long by seven feet wide, and was handsomely paved with Purbeck stone, could have been little better than a narrow passage running the whole north side of the prison between the building and its boundary wall. The Press-Yard was for State prisoners, or great and opulent criminals who could afford to pay such high premium at entrance as they and the gaoler might agree upon, and also the weekly rent of their wards. This premium was fixed according to the quality of the individual, and ranged from £20 to £500. The weekly rent of tenancy of the rooms was 11s. 6d. per head, 1s. of which was paid to a woman called the laundress, who made the fires and cleaned the rooms; the remainder went into the gaoler’s pocket. The prisoners themselves provided their fires and candles, as also all other necessaries, “save the beds, which were very good of their kind, and which the gaoler found, sheets being always excepted.” A less aristocratic section of this very select part of the prison was the Castle, which comprised two wards above the Stone ward and King’s Bench ward of the master debtors’ sides, and of the same dimensions, with the same air and light, as the wards immediately beneath. In the Castle wards were divers partitions for beds, for each of which a prisoner paid 2s. 6d. per week.

The remainder of this top floor, with the exception of the high hall, and the second ward for common female felons, was taken up by the prison chapel, which looked towards the south-east. The chapel was partitioned on the north side into large apartments called pens, which were all strongly built, as they contained every Sunday the common debtors and the felons of both kinds. The pulpit stood in the

north-west angle of the chapel, against it were the pens of the male common debtors, next to them those of the male and female felons, but in separate divisions, and in the pens were gratings through which the occupants could be observed from the chapel pews. On the south side, opposite the felons’ pens, were two very handsome enclosures for the master debtors; adjoining the pulpit was another large pew, wherein were placed such prisoners as were under sentence of death, and here in this same apartment “the blessed sacrament was administered to them at proper times, more particularly on the morning before execution.” Besides these were a number of other handsome open pews, free to all persons who choose to come and sit in them. They were generally well filled on the Sundays when the condemned sermon was preached to prisoners about to die.[66]

A few corroborative facts may be quoted from other authorities as to the horrors of Newgate, the mismanagement, tyranny, and lax discipline which prevailed. Its insanitary condition was chronic, which at times, but only for influential inmates, was pleaded as an excuse for release. Lord Montgomery, a prisoner there in 1697, was brought, Luttrell tells, out of Newgate to the King’s Bench Court, there to be bailed, upon two affidavits, which showed that there was an infectious fever in Newgate, of which several were sick and some dead. He was accordingly admitted to bail, himself in £10,000, and four sureties—the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Yarmouth, Lord Carington, and Lord Jeffereys—in £5000 each. An effort to secure release was made some years later in regard to Jacobite prisoners of note, less successfully, although the grounds alleged were the same and equally valid.

Within the gaol all manner of evil communication went forward unchecked among the prisoners. That same year Sir Richard Ford, the recorder, states that it has been made appear to the court of aldermen “that the keeper of Newgate hath at this day made his house the only nursery of rogues, prostitutes, pickpockets, and thieves in the world, where they were held and entertained and the whole society met, and that for the sake of the sheriffs[67] they durst not this

day commit him for fear of making him let out the prisoners, but are fain to go by artifice to deal with him.” The keeper at this time was one Walter Cowday, as appears from a State pardon “for seven prisoners ordered to be transported by their own consent,” which he endorses. Sharper measure was dealt out to his successor, Mr. Fells, the keeper in 1696, who was summoned to appear before the Lords Justices for conniving at the escape of Birkenhead, alias Fish, alias South, East, West, &c., one of the conspirators in Sir John Fenwick’s business, and who lay in prison “to be speedily tried.” On examination of Fells, it was stated that Birkenhead’s escape had been effected by a bribe, whereupon the sheriffs were instructed to find out the truth in order to displace Fells. Fells was furthermore charged with showing favour to Sir John Fenwick by suffering him to have pens, ink, and paper alone; a little later he was convicted on two indictments before Lord Chief Justice Holt at Guildhall, viz. for the escape of Birkenhead already mentioned, and of another prisoner imprisoned for non-payment of fine. Fell’s sentence was postponed till the next term at the King’s Bench Bar; but he moved the court in arrest of judgment, a motion which the King’s Bench took time to consider, but which must have been ultimately decided in his favour, as two years later Fells still held the office of gaoler of Newgate.

The crimes of the latter half of the seventeenth century are of the same character as those of previous epochs. Many had, however, developed in degree, and were more widely practised. The offence of clipping and coining had greatly increased. The extent to which it was carried seems almost astounding. The culprits were often of high standing. A clipper, by name White, under sentence of death, was reprieved by the king upon the petition of the House of Commons in order that a committee of the House might examine him in Newgate as to his accomplices and their proceedings. Accordingly, White made “a large discovery” to the committee, both of clippers and coiners, and particularly of Esquire Strode, who had been a witness at the trial of the Earl of Bath (1697). Luttrell says (1696), among twenty persons convicted of coining was Atkinson, the beau “that made such a figure in town about eight years before, and spent an estate of £500 per annum in Yorkshire.” In the lodgings of a parson, by name Salisbury, who was arrested for counterfeiting stamped paper, several instruments for clipping and coining were found. University men were beguiled into the crime of clipping; so were seemingly respectable London tradesmen. Goldsmiths and refiners were repeatedly taken up for these malpractices. “A goldsmith in Leicester Fields and his servants committed to Newgate for receiving large quantities of broad money from Exeter to clip it.”[68] “A refiner’s wife and two servants committed to Newgate for clipping; the husband escaped.” Bird, a laceman, in custody for coining, escaped; but

surrendered and impeached others. Certain gilders committed to Newgate petitioned therefrom, that if released they would merit the same by a discovery of a hundred persons concerned in the trade. Such are the entries which appear time after time in contemporary chronicles.

The numbers engaged in these nefarious practices were very great. In 1692 information was given of three hundred coiners and clippers dispersed in various parts of the city, for several of whom warrants were issued, some by the Treasury, others by the Lord Chief Justice. The profits were enormous. Of three clippers executed at Tyburn in 1696, one, John Moore, the tripeman, was said to have got a good estate by clipping, and to have offered £6000 for his pardon. Three other clippers arrested in St. James’ St., and committed to Newgate, were found to be in possession of £400 in clippings, with a pair of shears and other implements. The information of one Gregory, a butcher, who “discovered” near a hundred persons concerned in the trade, went to prove that they made as much as £6000 a month in counterfeit money. “All their utensils and moulds were shown in court, the latter being in very fine clay, which performed with great dexterity.” The extent of the practice is shown by the ingenuity of the machinery used. “All sort of material for coining was found in a house in Kentish town, with stamps for all coins from James I.” The work was performed “with that exactness no banker could detect the counterfeit.” So bold were the coiners, that the manufacture went forward even within the walls of Newgate. Three prisoners were taken in the very act of coining in that prison. One of the medals or tokens struck in Newgate as a monetary medium among the prisoners is still to be seen in the Beaufoy Collection at Guildhall. Upon the obverse of the coin the legend is inscribed: “Belonging to the cellar on the master’s side, 1669;” on the reverse side is a view of Newgate and the debtors’ prison.

Highway robbery had greatly increased. The roads were infested with banditti. Innkeepers harboured and assisted the highwaymen, sympathizing with them, and frequently sharing in the plunder. None of the great roads were safe: the mails, high officials, foreigners of distinction, noblemen, merchants, all alike were stopped and laid under contribution. The following are a few of the cases which were of constant occurrence. “His Majesty’s mails from Holland robbed near Ilford in Essex, and £5000 taken, belonging to some Jews in London.” The Worcester waggon, wherein was £4000 of the king’s money, was set upon and robbed at Gerard’s Gross, near Uxbridge, by sixteen highwaymen. The convoy, being near their inn, went on ahead, thinking all secure, and leaving only two persons on foot to guard it, who, having laid their blunderbusses in the waggon, were on a sudden surprised by the sixteen highwaymen, who took away £2,500. and left the rest for want of conveniences to carry it.” Two French officers (on their way to the coast) were robbed by nine highwaymen of one hundred and ten guineas, and bidden to go home to their own country. Another batch of French officers was similarly dealt with on the Portsmouth road. Fifteen butchers going to market were robbed by highwaymen, who carried them over a hedge and made them drink King James’ health. The Portsmouth mail was robbed, but only of private letters; and the same men robbed a captain going to Portsmouth with £5000 to pay his regiment with. Three highwaymen robbed the Receiver-General of Bucks of a thousand guineas, which he was sending up by the carrier in a pack; the thieves acted on excellent information, for although there were seventeen packhorses, they went directly to that which was laden with the gold. Seven on the St. Alban’s Road near Pinner robbed the Manchester carrier of £15,000 king’s money, and killed and wounded eighteen horses to prevent pursuit. The purser of a ship landed at Plymouth and rode to London on horseback, with £6000 worth of rough diamonds belonging to some London merchants which had been saved out of a shipwreck. Crossing Hounslow Heath, the purser was robbed by highwaymen. “Oath was thereupon made before a justice of the peace,” says Luttrell, in “order to sue the Hundred for the same.” The Bath coach was stopped in Maidenhead thicket, and a footman who had fired at them was shot through the head. The Dover stage coach, with foreign passengers, was robbed near Shooter’s Hill, but making resistance, one was killed. The western mail was robbed by the two Arthurs, who were captured and committed to Newgate. They soon escaped therefrom, but were again arrested at a tavern by Doctors’ Commons, being betrayed by a companion. They confessed that they had gone publicly about the streets disguised in Grecian habits, and that one Ellis, a tobacconist, assisted them in their escape, for which he was himself committed to Newgate. John Arthur was soon afterwards condemned and executed. Henry Arthur was acquitted, but soon after quarrelling about a tavern bill in Covent Garden, he was killed in the mêlée.

All manner of men took To the road. Some of the Royal guards were apprehended for robbing on the highway. Lifeguardsmen followed the same gentlemanly occupation when on duty. “Thompson, a lifeguardsman, committed on suspicion of robbing Welsh drovers, is refused bail, there being fresh evidence against him.”[69] Captain Beau, or Bew, formerly of the Guards, was seized at Knightsbridge as a highwayman, and afterwards poisoned himself. Seven of his gang were committed to Newgate. Harris, ‘the lifeguardsman’ tried at the Old Bailey for robbing on the black mare and acquitted, was again tried a month later, and condemned. He was then reprieved, and Sir William Penn obtained the Queen’s pardon for him, and a commission as lieutenant in the Pennsylvania Militia, to which colony he was to transport himself. Persons of good social status engaged in the perilous trade. One Smith, a parson and a lecturer at Chelsea, when brought up at Westminster for perjury, was found to be a confederate with two highwaymen, with whom he had shared a gold watch, and planned to rob Chelsea Church of its plate. Smith when arraigned appeared in Court in his gown, but he was “sent to Newgate, and is like to be hanged.” Disguised highwaymen were often found in reputable citizens and quiet tradesmen, who upon the surface seemed honest folk. A mercer of Lombard Street was taken out of his bed and charged by a cheesemonger as being the man that rubbed him two years previously. Another mercer was taken up near Ludgate on suspicion of being a highwayman, and committed. Saunders, a butcher of St. James’ market, was charged with robbing the Hampton coach, and discovered three confederates, who were captured on Sunday at Westminster Abbey. “Two highwaymen taken near Highgate, one of whom was said to be a broken mercer, the other a fishmonger.” Two of Whitney’s gang were said to be tradesmen in the Strand—one a goldsmith and one a milliner.

Whitney had done business on a large scale. He had been arrested before by a party of horse despatched by William III., which had come up with him lurking between St. Alban’s and Barnet. He was attacked, but made a stout defence, killing some and wounding others before he was secured. He must have got free again very soon afterwards. His second arrest, which has just been detailed, was followed by that of many others of his gang. “Three were seized near Chelsea College by some soldiers; two more were in company, but escaped.” On Sunday two others were taken; one kept a livery stable at Moorfield’s. Soon after his committal there was a strong rumour that he had escaped from Newgate, but “he continues closely confined there, and has forty pounds weight of irons on his legs. He had his tailor to make him a rich embroidered suit with peruke and hat, worth £100; but the keeper refused to let him wear them, because they would disguise him from being known.”[70] Whitney made many attempts to purchase pardon. He offered to discover his associates, and those that give notice when and where the money is conveyed on the roads in coaches and waggons. He was, however, put upon his trial, and eventually convicted and sentenced to death. He went in the cart to the place of execution, but was reprieved and brought back to Newgate with a rope round his neck, followed by a “vast” crowd. Next night he was carried to Whitehall and examined as to the persons who hired the highwaymen to rob the mails. But he was again ordered for execution, and once more sought to gain a reprieve by writing a letter in which he offered, if he might have his pardon, to betray a conspiracy to kill the king. His last appeal was refused, and he suffered at Porter’s Block, near Cow Cross, Smithfield.

Determined efforts were made from time to time to put down these robberies, which were often so disgracefully prevalent that people hardly dared to travel along the roads. Parties of horse were quartered in most of the towns along the great highways. Handsome rewards were offered for the apprehension of offenders. A proclamation promised £10 for every highwayman taken, and this was ere long increased to £40, to be given to any who might supply information leading to an arrest. Horses standing at livery in and about London, whose ownership was at all doubtful, were seized on suspicion, and often never claimed. It was customary to parade before Newgate persons in custody who were thought to be highwaymen. They were shown in their riding-dresses with their horses, and all gentlemen who had been robbed were invited to inspect this singular exhibition.[71] But the practice flourished in spite of all attempts at repression.

One or two types of the highwaymen of the seventeenth century may here be fitly introduced. One of the earliest and most celebrated was Jack Cottington, alias Mulled Sack, who had been a depredator throughout the Commonwealth epoch, and who enjoyed the credit of having robbed Oliver Cromwell himself on Hounslow Heath. His confederate in this, Horne,