 Chapter 29 of Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals Vol. 2 Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals Vol. 2 by Arthur L. Hayward Chapter 29 The Life of John Claxton, Alias Johnston, A Thief, etc. This unhappy malefactor was amongst the number of those who, through want of education, was the more easily drawn into the prosecution of such practices as became fatal to him. His father was a common sailor belonging to the town of Sunderland, who had it not in his power to breed him in a very extraordinary manner, and what little he was able to do was frustrated by the evil inclinations of his son, who, instead of applying himself closely while he remained at school, loitered away his time, and made little or no proficiency there. His head, as those of most seamen's children do, ran continually on voyages and seeing foreign countries, with which roving temper the father too readily complied, and while yet a boy, unacquainted with any kind of learning, and unsettled in the principles of religion, he was sent forth into the world to pick up either as he could. The first voyage he made was up the Straits, where he touched at Gibraltar, and went soon after to Leghorn, the port to which they were bound. Being a young, sprightly lad, the mate carried him on shore with him, and being a man of intrigue, made use of him to go between him and an Irish woman, who was married to an Italian captain of a ship. The lady's husband was in Sicily, and they therefore apprehended themselves to be secure. She proposed to the mate the carrying off of jewels and other things to the amount of some thousand crowns, and then flying with him from Italy. The project had certainly succeeded, if it had not been for their imprudence. For the mate, who passed for her cousin, being continually in the house for three days before the ship went away, a suspicion entered into some of the neighbours, as they often do amongst Italians, that there was something more than ordinary concealed under the frequency of his visits. They therefore dispatched a messenger to Signor Stefano de Calvo, the captain's brother, with the account of their surmises. He came immediately to Leghorn, and going directly to his brother's house, found his sister had packed up all his valuable effects, and, having loaded the boy with as much as he could carry, was on the point of setting out with him for the vessel. Stefano dragged her back into an inner apartment, where he locked her in, and afterwards fastened to the doors of the outward apartment through which they passed thither. But Jack, seeing how things went, laid down his burden, and fled as hard as he could drive to the port, where he gave notice to the master of their disappointment, and caused the vessel immediately to weigh anchor, and stand to see, as fearing the consequences of the affair, which he knew would make a great noise, and might possibly turn to the detriment of his owners. Claxton had hitherto done nothing that was criminal within the eye of the law, though, while at sea, he was continually employed in some mischievous trick or other. When he came into England, the ship happened to go to Yarmouth, and, as all places were alike to him, so short a stay there engaged him to marry a young woman who had some little matter of money, with which he proposed to do for himself some little matter at sea, and, taking the greatest part of it with him, came up to London in order to see after a good voyage. But this was the most fatal journey he ever made, for, falling, unfortunately, into the hands of bad women and their companions, they quickly drew him to be as bad as themselves, so that forgetting the poor woman he had married, and regardless of the business which brought him up to town, he gave himself up entirely to the pursuit of such villainies as they taught him, and in a short space, became as expert a proficient as any in the gang. Some of them had consulted together to rob a woodmonger's house of a considerable quantity of plate, but there was one difficulty to be encountered, without overcoming which there was no hopes of success. The woodmongers made, carried up the keys every night to her master, the outer court having a gate to it, and, unless they could call upon some stratagem either to prevent the gate being shut, or to gain the means of unlocking it, their attempt was certainly in vain. In order to bring this to pass, they put Jack, who was a neat little fellow, into a very good habit, and found means to introduce him to the acquaintance of the wench at a neighbouring chandler's shop where he took lodgings. In a fortnight's time he prevailed upon Mrs. Anne to come out at twelve o'clock to meet him, which she could not do without leaving the great gate ajar, having first carried up the key to her master, though for her own convenience she had thus left it upon a single lock. While she and her sweetheart were drinking punch and making merry together, the rest of the Confederates got into the house and carried away silver plate to the value of eighty pounds, leaving everything behind them in so good order that the maid who was a little tipsy into the bargain discovered nothing that night. Going to acquaint her lover with the accident as soon as it was found out, to her great surprise she was informed that he was removed, having carried away all the things before his landlord and landlady were up. The girl carefully concealed the passage, knowing how fatal it would be to her if it should reach her master's ears, but for her spark she heard no more of him until his commitment to Newgate for another fact for which he was ordered for transportation. Being on board the vessel with the rest of the convicts, he soon procured the favour of the master to be let to go out upon deck, and being a strong able sailor, he ingratiated himself so far as to meet no worse usage than any other sailor in the ship. On their arrival at the Canaries, where by stress of weather they were obliged to put in, a quarrel happened between the master of their vessel and the captain of a Jamaica man homeward bound. It ended in a duel with sword and pistol, and the captain of the transport, having carried John with him, he behaved so well upon this occasion that he promised him his liberty as soon as they arrived in America, which he honourably performed, and Jack was so indefatigable in his endeavours to get home that he arrived at London six weeks before the captain came back. He herded again with his old crew, though before he was able to do much mischief amongst them, he was apprehended for returning from transportation, and was, at the next sessions, tried and convicted. By this time the captain who had carried him was arrived, and hearing of John's misfortune, he made such interest as procured the sentence of death to be changed into a second transportation. Such narrow escapes, one would have imagined, might have taught him how dangerous a thing it was to dally with the laws of the nation in any respect whatsoever. And yet, when he was on shore in New England, where the master took care to provide him with as easy a service as a man could have wished, as soon as the captain's back was turned, he found means to give the planter the slip, and in nine months' time revisited London a second time. Whether he intended to have gone on in the old trade or no is impossible for us to determine, but this we are certain, that he had not been in England many weeks ere a person who made it his business to detect such as returned from transportation clapped him up in his old lodging at Newgate, brought him to his trial, and convicted him the third time. As soon as he had received sentence, he relinquished all hopes of life, and as in all this time he had never made any enquiry after his wife at Yarmouth, so he would not now bring an odium upon her and her family by sending to them, and making his misfortune public in the place where they lived. The man seemed to be of an easy tractable disposition, readily yielding to whatever those who conversed with them desired to bring him to, whether it were good or evil. He attended with great seeming piety and devotion to the books which Thomas Smith read to his fellow prisoners, and gained thereby a tolerable notion of the duty of repentance and that faith which men ought to have in Jesus Christ. Thus by degrees he brought himself to a perfect indifference as to life or death, and at the place of execution showed neither by change of color or any other symptom any extraordinary fear of his approaching dissolution, and, having conformed very devoutly to the prayers said by the ordinary, after a short private devotion, he submitted to his fate with the aforementioned malefactors Smith and Reynolds, being then about twenty-eight years old or thereabouts. Chapter 30 of Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, Volume 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, Volume 2 by Arthur L. Hayford, Chapter 30 The Life of Mary Standford, A Pickpocket and Thief This unfortunate woman was born of very good parents, who sent her to school and caused her to be bred up in every other respect, so as to be capable of performing well in her station of the world and doing her duty towards God, from a just notion of religion. But it happening, unluckily, that she set her mind on nothing so much as the company of young men and running about with them to fears and such other country diversions. Her friends were put under the necessity of sending her to London, a thing which they saw could not be avoided. When she came to town, she got in one or two good places, which she soon lost from her forward behaviour, and having been seduced by a footman, she soon became a common street walker and practised all the fine arts of those women who were a scandal to their six. When she was young, she was tolerably handsome and associated herself with one Black Mary, whose true name was Mary Rawlins, a woman of notorious eel fame, and who, from being kept by a man of substance in the city, by her own eel management was turned upon the town, and reduced to getting her bred after the infamous manner of the inmates of Drury. These two marries used to walk together between Temple Bar and Luget Hill, where sometimes they met with foolish young fellows out of home they got considerable sums, though at other times their adventures produced so little that they were obliged to part with almost every rag of clothes they had. Nay, they were now and then reduced so low that one was obliged to stay at home while the other went out. Mary Rawlins, contrary to the rules established amongst the sisterhood, married a man who had been a life-guardsman, and so was obliged to remove her lodgings to go with him into a little court near King Street Westminster. Some of my readers may perhaps imagine that either her love for her husband or the fear of his authority might work a reformation, where therein they would be highly mistaken for he proposed no other end to himself than plundering her of those presents she received from gallants, so that whenever Evening drew on, he was very acidous for her to turn out, as they phrase it. That is to go upon the street walking account picking pockets, she had not followed this trade long before she became so uneasy under it that one night, meeting with her old companion Standford, she persuaded her to remove into a new quarter of the town, with her she fled to her from her husband. They there carried on their intrigues together and lived much more at their ease than they had done before. For being now got towards wapping, they drew in the silers when they had any money to part with for their favours, and getting into acquaintance with some nappy solicitors. They found means to raise them cash at the rate of 60% to the broker and as much to the whore. Thus they lived till Standford took it in her head to serve her partner as she had done her before. For finding a man mad enough to marry her, she was full enough to consent to the marriage, but after living with the man for about a year, she repented her bargain and left him as Rawlins had done hers. Some time after this, she contracted an acquaintance with another man, at that time servant to a person in the city. By him she had a child, which as it increased her necessary expense, so it plunged her into the greater difficulty of knowing how to supply it. However, fancying her gains would be larger if she piled by herself. She totally left the company of her former associates and applied herself with an infamous industry to her shameful trade of prostitution. Not long after she had entered upon this single method of street walking, she fell into the company of a gentleman who was more than ordinary amorous of her, and who after treating her with his supper lay with her and, as she said, gave her forgiveness. But he on the contrary charged her with picking his pocket of a chagrin book, a silk handkerchief and the money before mentioned. For this fact she was committed to Newgate and soon after tried and convicted, notwithstanding her excuse of the man bestowing it on her as a present. After she had received sentence, some of her friends gave her hopes of having it changed into a transportation pardon, but this she rejected utterly, declaring that she had rather died not only the most ignominious, but the most cruel death that could be invented at home, rather than be sent abroad to slave for her living. Such strange apprehensions enter into the head of these unhappy creatures, and hinder them from taking the advantage of the only possibility they have left of tasting happiness on the side of the grave. And as this aversion to the plantations has so bad effects, especially in making the convicts desirous of escaping from the vessel or of flying out of the country whither they were sent, almost before they have seen it, I am surprised that no cure has been taken to print a particular and authentic account of the manner in which they are treated in those places. I know it may be suggested that the terror of such usage as they are represented to meet with there has often a good effect, in diverting them from such acts as they know must bring them to transportation. Yet though I confess I have heard this more than once repeated, yet I am far from being convinced and I am thoroughly satisfied that instead of magnifying the measures of their pretended slavery or rather of inventing stories that make a very easy surface pass on these unhappy creatures for the severest bondage, the convicts should be told the true state of the case. And be put in mind that instead of suffering death, the lenity of our constitution permitted them to be removed into another climate, no way inferior to that in which they were born, where they were to perform no harder tasks than those who work honestly for their Britain, England too. And this not under persons of another nation who might treat them with less humanity, but with those who are known as English for their living in the new. Done if they dwelt in old England, people famous for their humanity, justice and piety would know, a new Hampshire law regulating the behaviour of masters towards their white servants enacts, if any man smite out the eye or tooth of his man's servant or maids servant or otherwise mime or disfigured them much, unless it be mere casualty, he shall let him or her go free from his service and shall allow such further recompense as the court of quarter-sessions shall adjudge them. A good example of new inland humanity and justice. End of footnote. And amongst whom they are sure of mating with no variation of manners, customs etc., unless in respect of the progress of their vices, which are at present more numerous there than in their motherland. I say if pains were taken to instill into those, these unhappy persons such notions at the same time demonstrating to them that from being exposed either to want and necessity from the laws they had sustained of this reputation and being thereby under a kind of force in the following their old courses. And as soon as discharged from the fears of death, supposing a free pardon could be procured, obliged to run alike hazards immediately after, they might probably conceive justly of that clemency which is extended towards them and instead of shunning transportation, flying from the country where they are landed as soon as they have set their foot in them, or neglecting opportunities they might have on their first coming there, and be brought to serve their masters faithfully to endure the time of their service cheerfully and settle afterwards in the best manner they are able, so as to pass the close of their life in an honest, easy and reputable manner. Now it too often happens that their last end is worse than their first because those who return from transportation being sure of death if apprehended are led thereby to behave themselves worse and more cruelly than any malefactors whatsoever. But to return to Mary Stanford who led us into this digression, she showed little or no regard for anything. No, not even for her own child who she said she hoped would be well taken care of by the parish, and added that she had been a great sinner for which she hoped God would forgive her, praying as well as she could both while under sentence and at the place of execution. She declared that she bore normalised either against her prosecutor or any other person, and in this disposition she finished her life at Tiber, the same day with the aforementioned malefactors being at the time near 36 years of age. End of Chapter 30 Chapter 31 of Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, Volume 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, Volume 2 by Arthur L. Hayworth, Chapter 31 The life of John Cartwright, a thief, this unhappy young man was born in Yorkshire of a tolerable family who had been sufficiently careful in having him instructed in whatever was necessary for a person of his condition, breeding him up to all works of his family in general, and also qualifying him in every respect for a gentleman's service. In one of which capacities there were in hopes he would not find it difficult to get his bread. He lived with several persons in the country with unspotted reputation. Until at last a whim came into his head of coming up to London. An uncle of his procured him a very good service with one Mr. Charvin, a Mercer in the Peter Noster Road, with whom he stayed for some time with great satisfaction on both sides. For his master was highly pleased with the careful industry of the young man's temper and Cartwright on the other side had not the least reason to complain, considering the great kindness and indulgence with which he was hused. But some young fellows of Lowe's principles, taking notice of Cartwright's easy and tractable temper quickly drew him into becoming fond of their company and conversation. Every other Sunday he was permitted to go out where he would until nine o'clock at night, and these young fellows meeting at a fine alleyhouse not far from his master's house without the picking to bring Yorkshire Young, as they called him. There they usually ran over the description of the diversions of the town, and of those places round it which are most remarkable for the result of the company. These were new scenes to poor John, who was an acquainted with and representation better than a puppet show, a recreation of a superior nature to bull-baitings at a country fair, and therefore his thoughts were extremely taken up with all he heard and his companions were so obliging that they took abundance of pains to satisfy such questions as he asked them, and were often soliciting him to go and partake with them at plays, dancing bouts, and all the various divertisements, to which young unthinking youths are addicted. He wanted not many entreaties to comply with their request, but money. The main ingredient in such delights was wanting, and of this he at last acknowledged the deficiency to one of the young men his companions. This fellow took no notice of it at that time, further than to wish he had more, and to tell him that a young man of his spirit ought never to be without and that there were ways and wins enough to get it, if a man had not as much cash as courage. He repeated this insinuations often without explaining them at all, until frequent stories of the fine science at the theatres and elsewhere had so far raised poor John's curiosity that one evening he entreated his companion to let him into the bottom of what he meant. The cunning villain turned it at first into a chest and continued to banter him about his being a country put, and so forth, until he perceived it was past twelve o'clock and knew that it was too late for him to get in at home. Then he told him that if he promised never to reveal it, he would tell him what he meant. John, being full of leaker, soar he would not, and the other replied, Why, here you stand complaining of the want of money, while I warrant you there is a hundred or two pounds in your master's drawer under the counter. Maybe there may, said Cartwright, but what's that to me? Nay, replied the other, Nothing, if you have not the courage to go and fetch it. Why now? You can get in, I'm sure. Come, I'll put you in a way of never being taken. Cartwright, who was half drunk, remembered that there was a parcel of gold in the drawer, and that it was in his power to get it a silver watch, and some plate, so that he fatally yielded to the temptations of his companion, and thereupon the next morning conveyed to him the watch, four score pounds in money, and three silver spoons. They shared the greatest pet of the booty of which Cartwright was quickly cheated, and though he fled with the remainder as far as Monmouth Shire, in Wales, yet some way or other he was there detected, committed prisoner to the country gaol, and then sent up to London, where a few days after his arrival he was frightened, convicted. Never poor Ritch suffered deeper affliction than he did, and the reflection of his follies for giving up all hopes of life. He spent the whole interval of time between sentence and execution in grieving for the sorrows he had brought upon himself, and the stain his ignominious death would leave upon his family. His companion in the meantime was split far enough out of the reach of justice, so that Cartwright had nothing to expect but death, to which he patiently submitted, acknowledging upon all occasions the justice of that sentence which had befallen him, and wishing that his death might be sufficient to warn other young men in such circumstances as his ones were, from falling into faults of that kind which had brought him to ruin and shame. Yet though he laid aside all desires relating to worldly things, he yet expressed a little peevishness from the neglect shown towards him by his friends in the country, who though they knew well enough of his own misfortunes, yet they absolutely declined doing anything for him, from a notion perhaps that it might reflect upon themselves. Above all things Cartwright manifested, a due sense of the ingratitude he had been guilty of, towards so good a master as the gentleman whom he robbed had been to him. He therefore prayed for his prosperity even with his last breath, and declared he died without malice or ill will against any person whatsoever. At the price of his execution he attended very devoutly to the prayers, but did not say anything to the people more than to beg of them to take warning by him after the rope was fixed about his neck. He was executed at Tyburn on Monty the 21st of September 1726, being then about 23 years of age, a remarkable instance of how far youth, even of the best principles, is liable to be corrupted if they are not carefully watched over and may justify those restraints which parents and masters, from unjust apprehension of things, put upon their children or servants. Chapter 32 of Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals Volume 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals Volume 2 by Arthur L. Hayward Chapter 32 The Life of Francis, alias Mary Blackett, a highwaywoman Nothing deserves observation more than the resolution or rather obstinacy, with which some criminals deny the facts they have committed, though ever so evidently proved against them. There are two evils which follow from a hasty judgment formed from this consideration. The first is that people either instigated through malice or rashly and by mistake swear against innocent persons from a presumption that nobody would be so wicked as to die with a lie in their mouths. The other fault consists in imagining that the prosecutor is never in the wrong, but believing that covetousness or revenge can never bring people to such a beach as to take away the life of another to gain money or glut their passions. Our experience convinces us that either of these notions taken generally is wrong in itself, and that even as many have died in the profession of falsehoods, so some have suffered though innocent of the crime for which they died. The true use, therefore, of this reflection is that, where life is concerned, too much care cannot be taken to sift the truth, since appearances often deceive us, and circumstances are sometimes strong where the evidence, if the whole affair were known, would be but weak. Mary Blackett, which was the real name of this unfortunate woman, was the daughter of very mean parents who yet were so careful of her education that they brought her up to read and write tolerably well and to do everything which could be expected from a household servant, which was the best station they ever expected she would arrive at. When she grew big enough to go out, they procured for her a service in which, as well as in several others. While a single woman, she lived with very good reputation. After this, she married a sailor, and for all her neighbours knew, lived by hard working while he was abroad. Then on a sudden, she was taken up and committed to Newgate, for assaulting William Whittle in the highway, and taking from him a watch value four pounds and six pence in money on the 6th of August 1726. When sessions came on, the prosecutor appeared and soared the fact positively upon her, whereupon the jury found her guilty. Though at the bar, she declared with abundance of assertion that she never was guilty of anything of that sort in her life, and insisted on it that the man was mistaken in her face. While under sentence of death, she behaved herself as great devotion, and seemed to express no concern at leaving the world, accepting her only apprehensions that her child would neither be taken care of, nor educated so well after her disease, at the church of the parish, as he did to it had been. Yet, with respect to the crime for which she was to die, she still continued to profess her innocence thereof, offering that she had never been concerned in ensuring anybody by theft, and charging the vote of the prosecutor wholly upon his mistake, and not upon Willful Design to do her prejudice, at Chapel, as well as, in the place of her confinement, she declared she absolutely forgive him, who had brought her to that economic end as freely as she hoped forgiveness from her creator, and with these professions, she left the world at Tiber on the same day with the before-mentioned malefactor, being then about 34 years of age, persisting even at the place of execution in the denial of the fact. End of Chapter 32, Chapter 33 of Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, Volume 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, Volume 2 by Arthur L. Haverd, Chapter 33. The Life of Jane Holmes, Alias Barrett, Alias Fraser, a shoplifter. In the summer of the year 1726, shoplifting became so common a practice and so detrimental to the shopkeepers that they made an application to the government for assistance in apprehending the offenders, and in order thereto offered a reward and a pardon for any who would discover their associates in such practices. It was not long before by their vigilance and warmth in carrying on the prosecution. They seized and committed several of the most notorious shoplifters about town, and at the next several and swing sessions convicted six or seven of them, which seems to have pretty well broke the neck of this branch of living ever since. The malefactor of whom we are now speaking pretended to have been the daughter of a gentleman of some rank in a northern county. Certain it is that the woman had had a tolerable education and neither in her person nor in her behaviour betrayed anything of vulgar birth, yet those whom she called her nearest relations absolutely disowned her on her application to them, and would not be prevailed on to take any steps whatsoever in order to procure her a reprieve. When between 15 and 16 years old, she came up to London to her aunt, as she asserted much against the will of her relations. At that time she was not ugly, and therefore a young man in the neighbourhood began to be very aciduous in his courtship to her, hoping also that the persons she talked of as her father and brothers in the country would give him a sum of money to set up his trade. Miss Jenny was a forward lass, and the fellow being a spruce young spark soon prevailed over her affections, and they were accordingly privately married, though it proved not much to her advantage. For her husband finding no money come began to use her indifference, upon which she fell into that sort of business which goes under the name of a Holland straighter, and gave the best opportunities of vending goods that are ill come by, at a tolerable price and with little danger. Whether in the lifetime of this husband or afterwards, I cannot say, but she fell into the acquaintance of the famous Jonathan Wilde, and possibly received some of his instructions in managing her affairs in the disposal of stolen goods, but as Jonathan's friendships were mostly fatal, so in about a year's time afterwards she was apprehended upon that score, and shortly after was tried and convicted, and there upon ordered for transportation, she continued abroad for two years or somewhat more, and then under pittance of love to her children ventured over to England again, where it was not long before she got acquainted with her old crew, who if they were to be believed upon their votes were inferior to her in the art or mystery of shoplifting. However it were, whether by selling stolen goods or by stealing them, certain it is, she ran into so much money that an Irish shopper thought fit about Christmas before her death to marry her in order to possess himself of her effects, which without ceremony he did upon her being last apprehended, disposing of everything she had and taking away particularly a large part of old gold, which by her industry she had collected against a rainy day. The woman who became an evidence against her source so positively on the several indictments, and what she said was corroborated with so many circumstances that the jury found her guilty on the four following indictments. Viz, for stealing twenty years of straw ground brocaded silk, value ten pounds, the goods of John Moon and Richard Stone, on the first of June 1726. Of stealing in the shop of Mr. Matthew Herbert, forty years of pink coloured mantua silk, value ten pounds, on the first of May in the same year. Of stealing in company with Mary Robinson, a silver cup of the value of five pounds, the goods of Elizabeth Dobbinson, on the seventh of January. Of stealing in the company of Mary Robinson at Forsade, eighty years of cherry coloured mantua silk, value five pounds, the goods of Joseph Bourne and Mary Harper on the 24th December. Notwithstanding the clearness of the evidence given against her, while under sentence of death she absolutely denied not only the several facts of which she was convicted, but of her having been ever guilty of any theft during the whole life. Yet she confessed her acquaintance with Jonathan Wilde, nay, she went so far as to own having bought stolen goods and disposing of them, by which she had got great sums of money. She was exceedingly uneasy at the thoughts of dying and left no method untried to produce or reprive, venting herself in most appropriate terms against some whom she would have put upon procuring it for her. By pretending to be their near relation, though the people knew very well that she had nothing to do with them or their family, and she herself had been reproved her for nuking such pretensions by the ministers who assessed condemned persons. Yet she still persisted therein and on the ordinary of nukes acquainting her that the gentleman she called her father died the week before. Suddenly she fell into a great agony of crying, and as soon as she came a little to herself reproached, though in very modest terms the unnatural conduct of those she still efforted to be so nearly related to her. Nothing could be more fond than she was of her children, who were brought to Nuget to see her, and over whom she wept bitterly, and expressed great concern at her not having saved, wherewith to support them in their tender years. At last, when she lost all hopes of life instead of going calmer and better reconciled to death, as is frequent enough with persons in that sad condition on the contrary, she became more impassioned than ever, flew out into excessive passions, and behaved herself with such vehemence and flights of railing that she did not a little disturb those who lay under sentence in the same place with her. For this she was reprimanded by the keepers, and exalted to alter her behavior by the minister of the place, which had at last so good an effect upon her that she became more quiet for the two or three last days of her life, in which she possessed herself exceedingly grieved for the many offenses of her misspent life, declaring she heartily forgave the woman who was an evidence against her, and who she believed was much wickeder than herself, because as this criminal pretended, she had varied not a little from the truth. At the place of execution, she was more composed than could have been expected, and with many prayers that her life might prove of warning to others, she yielded up her last breath at Tyburn, on the same day with the aforementioned malefactors, being then about 34 years of age. Chapter 34 of Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, Volume 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, Volume 2 by Arthur L. Hayward, Chapter 34. The Lives of Catherine Fitzpatrick, Ilias Green, Ilias Boswin, are notorious shoplifts. After once, the Mercers had got Burton, who was the evidence into their hands, she quickly detected numbers of her confederates. Several of whom were apprehended, and chiefly on her evidence convicted. Amongst the rest was this Catherine Fitzpatrick, who was born in Lincolnshire of parents far from being in low circumstances, and who were careful in bestowing on her a very tolerable education. In the country, she discovered a little too much forwardness, and though London was a very improper place, yet either her friends sent her where she quickly fell into such company as deprived her of all sentiments, where she quickly fell into such company as deprived her of all sentiments, either of virtue or honesty. What practices she might pursue before she fell into shoplifting I have not been able to learn, and will not therefore impose upon my readers at the expense of a poor creature, who is so long ago gone to answer for her offenses, which as they were doubtless many of themselves, so they shall never be increased by me. Being a woman of a tolerable person, notwithstanding her not having the best of characters, she got a man in the mind to marry her, to whom she made an indifferent good wife, and though he was not altogether clear from knowing of her being concerned with shoplifters, yet he was so far from giving her the least encouragement they are in, that they were on the contrary continually quarrelling upon this subject, and whenever from any circumstances he guessed she had been thieving. He beat her severely, yet all this was to no purpose. She still continued to treat in the old path, and associated herself with a large number of women, who were at this time busy instilling silks out of the shops, either in the absence of the master, or under the pretense of seeing others. It is observable not only of Catherine Fitzpatrick, of whom we are now speaking, but also of all the persons who died for this offense, that they were extremely shy of making detailed compassions, though ready enough to compass in general that they had been grievous sinners, and that the punishment they were to undergo was very just from the hand of God. Fitzpatrick, as well as the former criminal Holmes, charged Burton the evidence with disingenuity in what she delivered on her work against them, and yet Fitzpatrick could not absolutely deny having been guilty of a multitude of offenses, as to shoplifting, so that it is highly probable, even if the evidence erred a little in immaterial circumstances, that in the main she swore truth. The particular facts on which Fitzpatrick was convicted were, 1. Stealing 19 years of green damas, valued at 9 pounds, the goods of Joseph Gifford and John Ravenel on July 29, 1724. 2. Taking 10 years of green satin out of the shop of John Moon and Richard Stone, valued 3 pounds on the 10th of February, 1724 or 1725. 3. Stealing in company with another person, 50 years of green mantua, valued 10 pounds, the goods of John out, made the 5th, 1725. 4. Stealing 63 years of Modena and Pink Italian Mantua, the goods of Joshua Ferry, February 24, 1724 or 1725. These dates were all of them somewhat more than a 12 month before the time of her apprehension, and she insisted on it that she had left of committing any such thing for a considerable space, which made the evidence envy her, and so brought on the prosecution. As she was a woman of good natural parts, and had not utterly lost that education which had been bestowed upon her, she was not near so much confuted at the apprehension of death as people in her circumstances usually are. She said she was glad she had some reformation in her life before this great evil came upon her, because she hoped her repentance was the more sincere as it had not proceeded from force, yet she was very desirous of life and first contempt, and, like Mrs. Holmes, pleaded her belly in hopes her pregnancy might have prevented her execution. But a jury of matrons found neither of them to be quick with the child, yet both to the time of their death effort they were so, and seemed exceedingly uneasy that their children should die violent deaths within them. When the time of her execution drew very near, she called her thoughts totally off from worldly affairs, and seemed to apply herself to the great business which lay before her with an earnestness and acidity seldom to be seen in such people. The assistance she had from her friends abroad were not large, but she contented herself with a very spirit-eyed, being unwilling that anything should call her off from penitence and religious duties. She seemed to have entirely weaned her affections from the desire of life and never showed any extraordinary emotions, except, on the visit of her youngest child, at the nurse's arms at the first sight of which she fell into strong convulsion fits, from which she was not brought to herself without great difficulty. She sometimes expressed a little uneasiness at the misfortunes which had befallen her after she had left of that way of living, but upon her being spoken to by several reverent persons who explained and vindicated the wisdom and justice of providence, she acquiesced under its decrees, and without murmuring submitted to her fate. A little before she died, she, with the rest of the shoplifters, was asked some questions concerning one, Mrs. Susanna, who was suspected of having been in some degree concerned with her. Mrs. Fitzpatrick and Mrs. Holmes, each of them declared that they knew nothing at all about her. Mrs. Fitzpatrick did indeed say that she had some little acquaintance with the woman, and knew that she got her living by selling coffee, tea, and some other little things, yet never was concerned in any ill practices in relation to them or anybody else she knew of. After having done this public justice, she, with great meekness, yielded apart with, at Tiber, the 6th of September 1726, being then about 38 years of age. End of Chapter 34 Chapter 35 of Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, Volume 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals, Volume 2 by Arthur L. Haverd. Chapter 35 The Life of Mary Robinson, a shoplift. The indiscretions of youth are always pitied, and often excused, even by those who suffer most by them. But when persons grown up to years of discretion continue to pursue with eagerness the most flagitious courses and grow in wickedness as they grow in age, pity naturally forsakes us, and they appear in so execrable a light that instead of having compassion for their misfortunes, we congratulate our country on being reed of such monsters, whom nothing could tame. Nor the approach even of death in a natural way hindered them from anticipating it by drawing on a violent one through their crimes. I am drawn to this observation from the fate of the miserable woman of home we are now speaking. What her parents were, or what her education, it is impossible to say, since she was shy of relating them herself, and being 70 years old at the time of her execution, there was nobody then leaving who could give an account about her. She was indicted for stealing a silver cup in company with Jane Holmes, and also stealing 80 yards of cherry-colored mantua silk, value 5 pounds, in company with the aforesaid Jane Holmes, the property of Joseph Brown and Mary Harper. On the 24th of December, on this fact, she was convicted as the rest were in the evidence of Burton, whom, as is usual in such cases, they represented as a woman worse than themselves, and who had drawn many of them into the commission of what she now deposed against them. As to this old woman, Mary Robinson, she said she had been a widow for 14 years, and had both children and grandchildren living at the time of her execution. She said she had worked as hard for her living as any woman in London, yet when pressed there upon to speak the truth, and not wrong her conscience, in her last moments, she did then declare she had been guilty of fiving tricks, but persisted in it that the evidence Burton had not been exactly right in what she had sworn against her. It was a menonqually thing to see a woman of her years, and who really wanted not capacity, brought into those lamentable circumstances, and going to a violent and ignominious death, when at a time when she could not expect it would be any long term before she submitted to a natural one. Possibly my readers may wonder how such large quantities of silk were conveyed away. I thought therefore proper to inform them that the evidence Burton said they had a contrivance under their petticoats, not unlike two large hooks upon which they laid a whole roll of silk, and so convict it away at once, while one of their confederates amused the people of this shop in some manner or other, until they got out of rich, and by this means they had for many years together carried on their trade with great success and as much safety, until the losses of the tradesmen ran so high as to induce them to take the method before mentioned, which quickly produced a discovery, not only of the purses of the offenders, but of the place also where they had deposited the goods. By this means a good part of them were recovered, and those who had so long lived by this infamous practice were either detected or destroyed, so that shoplifting has been thereby kept under ever since. Or at least the offenders have not ventured in so large a way as before. But to return to the criminal of home we are to treat, she said she was not afraid of death at all, though she confessed herself troubled as to the manner in which she was to die, and reflected severely upon Burton, who had given evidence against her. By degrees she grew calmer, and on the day of her execution appeared more composed and cheerful than she had done during all her troubles. She suffered at the same time with the malefactors before mentioned, and in her years looked as if she had been the mother of those with whom she died. End of Chapter 35 Chapter 36 of Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals Volume 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals Volume 2 by Arthur L. Hayward Chapter 36 The life of Jane Martin, alias Lloyd, a cheat and a thief, etc. This woman was the daughter of parents in very good reputation, about 100 miles off in the country. While they lived, they took care to breed her to understand everything as become a gentle woman of a small fortune, and in her younger years she was tractable enough. But her parents dying while Jane was but a girl, she came into the hand of guardians who were not altogether so careful as they out. Before she was of age, she married a young gentleman who had a pretty little fortune, which he and she quickly confounded in so much that he became a prisoner in the king's bench for death. Being thus destitute and in great want of money, she set her wits to work to consider ways and means of cheating people for her support, in which she became as dexterous as any who ever followed that infamous trade. Yet her husband, as she herself owned, was a man of strict honor, and so much offended at these villainies that he used her with great severity thereupon. But that had no effect, for she still continued the old trade, putting on the saint until people trusted her, and pulling off the mask as soon as she found there was no more to be caught by keeping it on. Amongst the rest of her adventures in this way, she once took it in her head that it was possible for her to set up a great show entirely upon credit, for except some good clothes she had nothing else to go to market with. Accordingly, she first took a shop not far from Somerset Hills and having caught some bales of brickpads to be made up, sent them thither in a cart with one of her confederates, which was safely deposited in that which was to pass for the warehouse. A carpenter was sent for, who was employed in making shelves, drawers, and other utensils for a haberdasher's shop. Then going to the wholesale people in that way, she found means to draw them into six or seven hundred pounds worth of goods to the house which she had taken. All of this stuff, the Saturday night following, she caused to be carried over into the mint, a practice very common with the infamous shelterers there who preserved their pretended privileges. Mrs. Martin having got some acquaintance in a tolerable family and having a very fair tongue, she quickly huddled them into a belief of her being able to do great matters by her interest with some person of distinction whose name she made use of on this occasion, and thereby got several presents and small sums of money. And if she herself were to be believed among the rest, a silver cup, whether her falling in her promises really provoked the people to swearing a theft upon her, or whether, which is more probable, she took an opportunity of conveying it secretly away. Certain it is that for this she was prosecuted, and the fact appearing clear enough to the jury was there upon convicted and ordered for transportation. This afflicted her at least as much as if she had been condemned to instant death, and therefore she applied herself continually to thinking which way it might be eluded, and she might escape. Soon after her going abroad, she affected what she so earnestly desired, and unhappily for her returned again into England. The numerous frauds she had committed had exasperated many people against her, who as soon as it was rumored that she was come back again, never left searching for her until they found her out, and got her committed to Newgate, and on the record of her conviction, being produced the next sessions, and the prosecutor swearing positively that she was the same person. The jury after a short consultation brought her in guilty, and she received sentence of death, from which as she had no friends, she could not hope to escape. When she found death was inevitable, she fell into excessive agonies and well-nigh into despair. The reflection on the many people she had endured gave her so great grief and anxiety of mind that she could scars be persuaded to get down a sufficient quantity of food to preserve her life until the time of her execution. But the minister at Newgate having demonstrated to her the wickedness and the folly of such a course, she by degrees came to have a better sense of things. Her mind grew calmer, and though her repentance was accompanied with sighs and tears, yet she did not burst out into those lamentable outcries by which she before disturbed both herself and those poor creatures who were under sentence with her. In this disposition of mind, she continued until the day of her death, which was on the 12th of September 1726, being between 27 and 8 years of age in the company of the before-mentioned malefactors. Cartwright, Blackhead, Holmes, that's Patrick Robinson, and William Allison, a poor country lad of about 25, apparently of an easy gentle temper, who had been induced into the fact, partly through covetousness, and partly through want. by Arthur L. Hayward Chapter 37 The Life of Timothy Benson, a highwayman. Amongst the number of those unfortunate persons, whose memory we have preserved to the world, in order that their punishments may become lasting warnings unto all who are in any danger of following their footsteps, none is more capable of affording useful reflections than the incidents that are to be found in the life of this robber are likely to create. He was the son of a sergeant's wife in the regiment of the Earl of Derby, but who his father was, it would be hard to say. His mother having had a long intrigue with one Captain Benson, and the sergeant dying soon after this child was born, she thought fit to give him the Captain's name, declaring publicly enough that if it was in her power to distinguish, the Captain must be his father. Certain it is that the woman acted cunningly at least, for Benson, who had never had a child, was so pleased with the boy's ingenuity that he sent him to a grammar school in Yorkshire, where he caused him to be educated, as well as if he had been his legitimate son. Nothing could be more dutiful than Tim was, while a child. The Captain was continually vexed with long letters from the gentlewoman where he was boarded, concerning master's fine person, great parts, and wonderful improvements, which Benson, being a man of sense, took to be such gross flattery that he came down to Bellaby, the village where the child was, on purpose to take it away. But Mr. Tim, upon his arrival, appeared such a prodigy both in beauty and understanding that the old gentleman was perfectly ravished with him, and whatever he might believe before, Vanity now engaged him to think for youth his son. For this reason he doubled his care in providing for him, and when he had made a sufficient progress at the grammar school, he caused him to be sent over to Leiden, a university of which he had a great opinion. Timothy lost not any of his reputation in this change of climate, but returned in three years' time from Holland as accomplished a young fellow, as has been bred there for a long time. He had but just made his compliments to his supposed father, and received 30 guineas from him as a welcome to England, before the old gentleman fell ill of a pleurisy, which in four days' time deprived him of his life. And as he had no will, he's a state of 300 pounds a year, and about 700 pounds in money, which he had lent out on securities, descended to his sister's son as aren't a booby as ever breathed, and deprived him both of his present subsistence and future hopes. In this distressed condition he took lodgings in a little court at the father end of Westminster. He had a great number of good clothes, and as he then addicted himself to nothing so much as reading, he lived so frugally as to make a very tolerable appearance, and to pay everybody justly for about half a year, which so well established his credit in the neighbourhood that he was invited to the houses of the best families thereabouts. And might undoubtedly, if he had had his wits about him, have married some young gentlewoman thereabouts of a tolerable fortune. But happening to lodge over against a great man to her makers, he took notice of a young girl who was her apprentice, and happened to be a childless daughter at Hammersmith. The wench, whose name was Jenny, was really handsome and agreeable, but as things were circumstances with him, nothing could be more ridiculous than that passion which he suffered himself to entertain for her. It was very probable that he might have had some transient amours before this, but Jenny was certainly the mistress to whom he made his first addresses, and the real passion of his heart. The girl was quickly tempted by the person and appearance of her lover, and without inquiring too narrowly into his circumstances, would certainly have yielded to his passion, if marriage had been the thing at which he aimed. But he was an obstacle hard to get over. Tim looked upon himself to be irretrievably undone from the hour he entered into that state. At last he conquered that virtue which his mistress had hitherto preserved, and after they had fooled away a month or two together, at the expense of all he had, Tim found himself at last obliged to confess the truth of his circumstances, and by that confession brought a flood of grief upon his fair one, who had hitherto been unaccustomed to misfortunes. When they first came together, it was agreed between them to quit that part of the town where they were both known, and they afterwards lodged in a very pretty little house on the edge of red lion fields. On the morning Tim made this discovery, his cash was reduced to a single crown. It is true he had abundance of things of value, but when once they began to go, he was conscious to himself that starving would be quickly their lot, and what added more to his misfortunes was that his mistress, amidst all her sighs and afflictions, declared she would rather continue with him than go home to her relations, though from the indulgence of her mother she did not doubt of meeting with a good reception. However, they came to this resolution that Jenny should go and raise five innings upon a diamond ring of his, and while she was gone on this errand, poor Benson sat leaning with his head upon his arm in a window that looked towards the fields. Casting up his eyes by chance, he saw a gentleman walking up and down as if for his diversion, whereupon a thought immediately struck him that it would be an easy matter to rob him, and by his appearance it was not unlikely but that he might prove a good prize. Without reflecting he resolved upon the thing and putting on over his nightgown an old grape coat which he had in his closet, and with a case of pistols in his breast, he slipped out at the garden gate without being perceived and was up with him in an instant. Then, taking the button of his hat in his teeth, he mumbled out, deliverer, or you're a dead man. The gentleman in great confusion gave him a green purse of gold and was going to pull his ring off his finger and his watch out of his pocket, but Tim stopped him and said he had enough. Only commanded him to turn his back towards him and knock to alter his position for fifteen minutes by his own watch. This the gentleman religiously observed and Tim made all the hasty could through the garden into his own chamber, where, having hid the cloak at the back of the bed, he began to examine the value of the plunder and found that the purse contained seventy guineas and two diamond rings, one a single stone and a very fine one, the other consisting of seven but small and of no great value. These he went down and buried in the garden, having first burnt the purse in the fire. The hurry of the fact being over, he sat down once again in his own room and had leisure to reflect a little on what he had done, which threw him into such an agony that he was scarce able to sit upon the chair. Shame at the villainy he had committed, the fear of being apprehended and the apprehensions of Tyburn gave so many wounds to his imagination that he thought his former uneasiness a state of quiet for the pangs which he now felt, which were much more bitter as well as of a very different nature from anything he had known before. In the midst of these terrors he heard the voices of a great deal of company in his land, ladies parlour. The hopes of being a little easy where he had not so much opportunity of a frighting himself with his own thoughts occasioned his going downstairs and without well knowing what he did he knocked at the parlour door which went open. The first thing which struck his eyes was the gentleman whom he had robbed, drinking a glass of water. This gave him such a shock that he had much to do to collect spirits enough to tell a gentlewoman of the house that he perceived she had company and therefore would not intrude. For she, laying her hand upon his arm, said, Pray, Mr. Benson, walk in, as nobody here but a gentleman who has had the misfortune to be robbed in the field, the fright of which has put him into such a disorder that he desired to step in here, that he might have leisure to come a little to himself. Tim saw it was impossible for him to retreat and so putting on the best face he was able he came in and sat down. The landlady began then to inquire the circumstances of the robbery. Why, madam, replied he, I was walking there as I generally do of a fine afternoon in order to get a little fresh air. When a man came up all of a sudden to me, close muffled up in a green or blue grapecoat. In truth, I cannot say which. He clapped a pistol to my breast and I gave him my purse and my niece's two rings, one of which cost me four score guineas but three weeks ago. And as I was afraid he would murder me, I was going to give him this off my finger and my watch out of my pocket. But that the fellow said he had enough and his leaving these surprised me almost as much as taking the rest. But what sort of a man was he? Said she. Why, I think he was about that gentleman's height, had it he, but I am so short-sighted that I question whether I should have known his face even had it not been covered with his hat. Besides, I am so much taken with the rogue's generosity that I would not prosecute him if I had him in the room. This set Tim's heart so much at risk that he began to come to himself a little and asked the strange gentleman if he would not be so good as to drink a glass of wine. A bottle was sent for and during the time they were drinking it, Jenny came in and it being quite dark before they had finished, a coach was called and Mr. Benson offered to see the gentleman home in order to which he was going upstairs to put on his clothes. But this the stranger would not permit begging him to go as he was upon which Jenny said then my dear I'll fetch a great coat. He had much ado to desire the gentleman to walk to the coach and he'd go as he was which he did accordingly and after drinking a glass of citron water with the lady whose rings he had stolen he came home again as fast as the coach could carry him. Jenny was very melancholy at his return and giving him three guineas told him that it was all the pawnbroker would lend and she had much ado to get that as she was not known. Tim bid her be of good cheer and said he hoped things would mend and so they went to bed. Two or three days after he took an opportunity of going out pretty early and returning after dinner time told her with much seeming joy that he had met with a gentleman whom he had been acquainted with at Leiden and who hearing of his father's death had begged him to accept of 20 guineas as a mark to his esteem. Jenny was in raptures at their good fortune and went that afternoon and fetched the ring home returning poor creature with as much satisfaction as if she had received ever so much money. The hopes of living quietly a month or two with the man she loved dispelled all the apprehensions of poverty which she was before under. Tim considering that this supply would not last always and resolving with himself never to run such a hazard again he began to beat his brains about the best method to be taken of getting money in an honest way. As he had been bred to no profession not withstanding the excellent education he had had never was a man more at his wits end. After a thousand schemes had offered themselves to his mind and were rejected it came at last into his head that as he was tolerably versed in physics it might not be impossible for him to get his bred by that but how to get into practice there was the difficulty. A little recollection helped him here he had seen a quack doctor exhibit his medicines with a panagery on their good qualities on his journey to London. He resolved scandalous as the profession was to venture upon it rather than run the risk he had done before. This scheme doubtless cost him some trouble before he brought it to bear so as to give him any hopes of his putting it into execution but having at last settled it as well as he could he determined with himself to go down into some distant county and undertake it. In order to have his thoughts at greater liberty to resolve about it he took a walk into the fields and being very dry after his perambulation he stepped into a little alehouse and called for a mug of drink. While he sat there he heard two men discoursing upon the vast sums of money that was got by one Smith a practitioner in the very art which he was going to set up and he found by them that the chief scene of Smith's adventures had lain in Lincolnshire and thereabouts so without more ado as all places were alike to him he settled his intentions to go down to the same place where he understood by the man that his quandammed doctor had done some great cures and got a tolerable reputation. When he came home he could not avoid appearing very thoughtful and Jenny fearful of some new disaster would not let him rest until he had acquainted her fully with his design which he would not consent to do until she promised to comply with a proposal he was to make her after he had revealed the secret she was so desirous to know. When he had told her his project she next demanded what the condition was to which she had bound herself to yield. Benson replied that it was to remain at some place 30 or 40 miles distant from where he intended to go that she might not be exposed to any inconveniences from that unhappy figure he saw himself obliged to make. It was with great reluctance that she ratified the consent he had given but at length after much persuasion she again acknowledged he was in the right and promised to do as he would have her. Things being thus adjusted nothing remained for him to do but to get ready for his journey and that his mate might be the less timorous of the event. He told her he had procured another supply of 25 Guinness. His cloak bag was soon stored with such medicines as he thought proper and having packed up a few practical books he thought he might have occasion for he took a place for himself and Jenny who passed for his wife in the stagecoach for Huntingdon at a village near which paying the people for a month's board he left his consort and having hired horses to Boston he took a young fellow from Huntingdon with him thither. As Benson had a very smooth tongue so he set off the wonderful properties of his drugs in so artful a manner that in the space of a fortnight he had cleared 10 pounds besides his expenses. As he had left Jenny five Guinness in her pocket he wrote to her to pay the people another month's board and assured her that he would return within that space. Hiring accordingly visited Sleaford and some other great towns thereabouts in seven weeks time he set out for his return into Huntingdonshire with 50 Guinness all clear again in his pockets. This good luck encouraged him to run through the greatest part of the north of England in the same manner and within the compass of three years he cleared upwards of 500 pounds. At the time of his making this calculation he was set down at Bristol in order to exercise his talent in that great city but an unexpected accident broke all his measures. Just as his stage was set up and he mounted and opening his harangue which was now become familiar to him a constable stepped up upon the stage and told him that a gentleman had sworn a robbery directly against him and he must go immediately before the mayor. This put him into a lamentable confusion he knew himself innocent but the character of a man to bank was sufficient to make the thing believed at first and therefore he could not be blamed for his apprehensions especially considering he took it as a just return for that robbery which he had committed in town and for which he made no satisfaction when it was so fully in his power. Upon his prosecutors appearing before the mayor and swearing flatly to his face as to his robbing him of seven Guinness, a silver watch and a snuff box Tim had his mitimus made for Nugut but upon his desiring the mayor that his effects might be searched but not plundered he had leave given him to return with the officer and see them looked over at the inn. As many of them were valuable of themselves as the drugs were of the best sorts and as he had several letters from persons of good character in the several counties through which he had passed and bank notes and bills to the value of 400 pounds they thought fit to report all this to the mayor before they did anything. The mayor thereupon resolved to act very cautiously and having first looked over everything himself he then ordered the effects to be delivered up to Mr. Benson himself who however was obliged to undergo a confinement of eight weeks till the assizes. The prosecutor not appearing and Mr. Benson by permission of the court examining two gentlemen of undoubted credit who proved to his being at the time when the robbery was sworn in another place he was acquitted and a copy of his indictment ordered him. It seems a person under condemnation at Hartford acknowledged the fact for which Tim had been committed and produced both the snuff box and watch which though the gentleman who lost them got again yet it proved an affair of very ill consequence to him for he was obliged to give Benson 100 guineas to obtain a general release and Tim fearing the noise of the thing had undone his reputation resolved to go over to America and settle there. A gentleman at Bristol who traded largely to the plantations offered him his assistance in the affair and matters being quickly adjusted between them Tim to show himself grateful and a man of honor was married privately to Jenny whom he resolved should be the companion of his future fortunes as she had hitherto been the constant solace of all his sorrows but before they set out he thought it proper to make a journey to London as well as to provide some necessary articles in the profession he intended to follow as to make an end of a little affair which we have before related and which lay very hard upon his conscience. To time then came Jenny and he and took a lodging near Tower Street where in about a fortnight's time Mr Benson had put everything in order for his voyage. The day before he set out on his return to Bristol he wrote the following letter to the old gentleman he had robbed and who as he informed himself was still living in the same place. Sir under the pressure of severe necessity my misfortunes tempted me to commit so greater piece of villainy as the robbing you in red lion fields. You may remember sir that I took from you a green purse in which was seventy guineas and two diamond rings the one of a large the other of a less value. The first comes to you enclosed in this the latter the same necessity which urged me so far as to take them obliged me some months after to dispose of which I did for 14 pounds as a satisfaction for the injury I did you be so good sir as to accept of the enclosed note of 100 pounds which I hope will amount to the whole value of those things I took from you and may I flatter myself procure your pardon the only thing wanting to making him easy who is sir your most obedient humble servant this he took care to convey by a ticket quarter of whose fidelity he was well assured and having dispatched this affair he let slip nothing to make his intended voyage successful. His skill in his profession was such that he soon had as much business in the plantation where he settled as he knew what to do with and in seven or eight years practice acquired such an estate as was sufficient to furnish him with all the necessaries of life upon which he lived when he gave this account to the gentleman who communicated it to me and as it is an instance of a return of virtue not often to be met with I thought it might be as useful as any other relation which hitherto had a place in this confession. End of Chapter 37 Chapter 38 of Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals Volume 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by April 690 California United States of America. Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals Volume 2 by Arthur L. Hayward The life of Joseph Shrewsbury, Alias Smith, a robber, etc. This unhappy criminal of whom we are now to speak was the son of parents in so mean circumstances that they were not able to give him any education at all. Yet they were careful in carrying him constantly to church with them and instructing him as far as they were able in the principles of the Christian faith and did everything that narrow capacity would give them leave. In order to enable him to get his bread in some honest employment then they put him out apprentice to a tanner in the neighborhood a very honest considerate man who treated him with all the indulgence and kindness he could have wished throughout the time of his apprenticeship. But he was so unfortunate as to falling to the company of a set of giddy young people who were totally addicted to merrymaking and dancing which when he had once got into the road of he so neglected his business that his master after abundance of reproofs was obliged to part with him. He had not at that time any designs of doing anything like the fact for which he afterwards suffered but continuing still to frequent his dancing mate's company they promised to put him into a road to supply him with money enough to live without working provided he had courage to do as they would have him and he without considering what he did giving consent to their motions went out one evening with David Anderson country will in Jenny Austin and after a while they stripped one Thomas Collier and robbed him of his coat and waistcoat hat and a pair of silver buckles and other things with a half guinea in gold and twenty five shillings in silver for this offense he was quickly after committed apprehended and sent to Newgate whereupon a plane proof he was convicted and ordered for execution when the poor man was under sentence of death he sufficiently repented those idle hours he had consumed in dancing and in other merryments into which he had been led by his companions he was now sensible how easily he might have lived if he had taken the advice of his kind master who with so much pains endeavored not only to instruct him in his profession but also to reclaim him from those follies in which he saw him engaged the thoughts of death threw him into violent agonies from once his natural sense of which he had a great deal at last in some measure recovered him and when upon the coming down of the death warrant he saw there were no hopes left for him in this life he applied himself with very great ardency to secure happiness in the next he declared that the fact for which he died was the first ever king committed and that the depositions against him were not exactly conformable to truth a day or two before his death he appeared to be very calm and very cheerful submitted with a perfect resignation to the lot which had befallen him and at the place of execution exhorted the people not to let their curiosity only be satisfied in the sight of his wretched death but he warned them also from the commission of such crimes as might bring them to a like fate he suffered on the 3rd of november 1726 at tyburn being then about 22 years of age end of chapter 38 chapter 39 of lives of the most remarkable criminals volume two this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Jennifer Painter lives of the most remarkable criminals volume two by Arthur L. Hayward chapter 39 the life of Anthony Drury a highwayman this unfortunate man whose fate made a great noise in the town at the time it happened was born of parents neither mean in family nor fortune in the county of Norfolk where he received his education on which no little pains and expense were bestowed as the particular circumstances of his life in his most early years as no exact accounts have come to my hands so I do not think myself obliged to frame any adventures for the entertainment of my readers a practice very common yet I think unjustifiable in itself all that I can is that it appears he lived at Oxford and Vista before he came to Wendover at which place he had a house and family at the time of his death he was not as far as I'm able to learn bred up to any particular profession whatever his parents leaving him in circumstances capable of supporting himself however whether he arrived at it after some misfortunes or had it discovered to him before certain it is that he gained some knowledge in the act of curing smoking chimneys by which he got very considerably and from whence be derived the name of the smoking chimney doctor by which he was commonly known in the county of Bucks some few years before his death he married a widow gentlewoman at Oxford of a considerable fortune the world though something too largely reported that she had 1500 pounds however it were he still addicted himself to women and in all probability made her but an indifferent husband since she took so little care about him when in the midst of so great calamities however it were he maintained a tolerable character in the neighborhood and his credit had not been impeached in any degree when he committed the fact I'm going to relate on the 25th of September 1726 he attacked the Bista wagon as it was coming from London and committed the following robberies therein vis he took from Thomas Eldridge 15 more doors 210 guineas 80 half guineas and the goods and money of Mr Burroughs he was likewise indicted and found guilty for assaulting Sarah the wife of Robert King on the highway and robbing her of two shillings and sixpence as likewise on a third indictment for assaulting the aforesaid Thomas Eldridge and taking from him a calico gown and petticoat value 20 shillings the goods of Giles Betts there was a fourth indictment against him for assaulting Mary the wife of Joseph Page and taking from her two shillings and sixpence but the three former being all capital the court did not think proper to try him upon this while he lay under sentence of death he did not discover any signs of excessive fear but appeared rather perplexed and confused than dispirited or dejected he entertained at first great hopes of a reprieve at least in order to be transported and for obtaining it he spent a great deal of time writing to several friends who he thought might be instrumental in procuring it however he was far from neglecting the concerns of his soul but read daily with much seeming diligence several little books proper for a man in his condition and whenever he attended a chapel behaved with the utmost gravity praying if we may guess from exterior signs with much fervour and devotion there was a man very well acquainted with the principles of the christian religion and was in all appearance better persuaded of the merit and efficacy of his saviour's passion than people often are in his condition as to his capacity it appeared to have been very tolerable in itself and to have received many advantages from education how he acquired the art of curing smoky chimneys is not very well known he having been bred up to no trade whatsoever but coming into the world with a little fortune left him by his parents he lived there upon with a tolerable reputation until the time of his marriage when he was first under sentence he was very desirous of having his wife come to town and for that purpose wrote her several pressing letters to which he received no answer this gave him great disturbance he thereupon wrote to a friend in the country who lived near her on whom also he had a strong dependence in treating him to go to his wife and solicit her not absolutely to desert him in his extreme calamity but to come up to town with him in order to make their last efforts for his preservation this epistle however proved in the main as unsuccessful as the rest though it procured him an answer wherein the person he wrote to informed him that his wife was extremely lame in so much that she could not put on her own clothes that her servant was gone that she had no money wherewith to defray the expenses of a journey to town much less to assist him in his distress as for himself his friend excused his coming by reason of a great cold which he had caught in london when he came up before to attend mr drury's affairs hereupon the unfortunate criminal had fought himself of another expedient which he imagined would not fail of engaging mrs drury to come to london he informed her by letter that in the beginning of his troubles he had pawned some silver plate in town for four and twenty pounds that it was more than double the value and might probably be lost on his death so this his friend wrote him back that if anybody would take the plate out and give advice thereof to mrs drury she would repay them and gratify them also for their trouble when this letter came to the poor man's hand he said he was satisfied that his wife did not desire he should live however he heartily forgave her he constantly denied that he had ever been concerned in any act of a lifetime with that for which he died he acknowledged that with what his wife had and the business he followed he might have lived very gently in the country that he had not indeed been very prudent in the management of his affairs however it was no necessity that forced him on the base and wicked act for which he died the sole cause of his committing which was as he solemnly protested the repeated solicitations of king the wagoner who for a considerable time before represented the attempt to him as a thing no way dangerous in itself and which would bring him a very large sum of ready money as soon as king perceived that his insinuations begun to make some impression he opened himself more fully as to the facility of robbing the vista wagon wherein says he you will find generally a pretty handsome sum of money and as to opposition depend on it you shall meet with none at last these speeches prevailed on him and it was agreed that the wagoner should have half the booty for his advice and assistance and the better to conceal it dreary was directed to rob king's wife of about four pounds which was all she had about her a minister of the church of england who was either acquainted with mr. dreary or out of charitable intention attended him at the request of his friends took abundance of pains to give him just notions of his duty in that unfortunate slate into which his folly had brought him he repeated to him the reasons which render a public confession necessary from those who die by judgment of the law he exhorted him not to equivocate or even extenuate in his declarations concerning his offense mr. dreary heard him with great patience seemed to be much affected with the remonstrances which were made to him and finally promised that he would act sincerely in the confessions he made to the public adding that he had none in whom to trust but god alone and therefore he would not offend him the reverend divine to whom he spoke approved his resolution and promised to afford him all the assistance in his power till death as soon as the criminal was satisfied at all applications that had been made for mercy were ineffectual and that there was not the least probability of a pardon he immediately sent for the clergyman before mentioned and desired to receive the sacrament at his hands to which the gentleman readily assented uttering only a short previous exhortation unto a true repentance open and genuine confession and full and free forgiveness unto all who had ever injured him or unto whom he bore any ill will mr. dreary therefore before he received the elements owned in express terms his being guilty of the fact for which he died affirmed the truth of what he had formerly said concerning the wagoner declared that he forgave both him and his own wife sincerely and that having now in some measure eased his mind he was no longer afraid of death mr. dreary even after receiving sentence was indulged by the keepers of nougat in having a room to himself in the press yard which afforded him leisure and privacy for his devotions and he seemed especially for the last days of his life to make proper use of those conveniences by excluding himself from all company and applying earnestly to god in prayer for the forgiveness of his sins during the two or three days succeeding that whereon he received sentence a gentlewoman attended pretty constantly upon him who she was we can neither say nor is it very material but mr. dreary appealing to her in the presence of some persons as to the truth of what he alleged concerning king the wagoner she desired to relate what she knew as to that point the account she gave was to this purpose mr. dreary carried me out of town with him in a shades to wend over on the road we were met by the wagoner he speaks on desired mr. dreary to step out and wanted to speak with him there upon he complying with the wagoners request they walked together to a considerable distance and they're stopping talk to each other very earnestly for some time as to the subject of their discourse she declared she could say nothing but as they came back to the shades the wagoner said you need not be afraid you will be sure to get what you want to say truth it was very odd for a single man to rob a wagon to which so many people belong in company with several other wagons without any opposition though it be likewise true that he did not attempt any of the rest some persons of quality were prevailed on by his earnest solicitations and the circumstances we have before mentioned to endeavor the procuring him a pardon but it was in vain and it would certainly have been much better for the man if he never had any hopes given him for though he did not depend as much on promises as men in his miserable condition frequently do yet the desire of life sometimes excited the hopes of it and thereby took off his thoughts for more weighty concerns or at least made him more languid and confused than other ways he would have been for the very day before his death he still entertained some expectations of mercy the evening before he suffered a woman knocked at his chamber door and earnestly desired to speak a few words to him he accordingly came towards the door and asked her what it was she would have to say to him the woman after expressing much sorrow for his misfortunes told him she was desired by a person for whom she had been servant if the thing were possible to learn from his own mouth what he had to say against the wagoner mr. Drury replied that he had never had any thought of robbing wagons or any such thing if the wagoner had not advised and pressed him to it so that his blood the loss of his life and all he had in the world lay upon that man then shutting the door he returned to his devotions and continued to them all the evening and until the night was considerably spent as death drew near it seemed not to affect him as much as might be expected on the morning of his execution he appeared not only easy but cheerful attended at the prayers at chapel with much composure and went out of newgate without any sign of fright or disturbance of mind on the road to tyburn he appeared serious but melancholy spoke a good deal concerning the errors of his former life said he had never been addicted to drinking but had conversed too much with bad women which had made his wife jealous and caused home to be very uneasy he seemed truly penitent for these offenses as he confessed them without any questions being asked by those about him at the place of execution his courage did not forsake him he still preserved a great deal of serenity in his accountants and when he was desired to acquaint the people with anything he had to say concerning the crime for which he died he spoke with a strong voice and repeated what he had formally alleged about King the Wagoner adding that he advised him also to rob the Banbury wagon and not withstanding he talked of his wife's having four pounds about her yet he took but three shillings whereupon the third indictment was founded on which he was convicted he then complained of his wife's unkindness and both prayed for the spectators and desired their prayers for him as he was leaning on the side of the cart the ordinary told him that a man charged him the day before with having married a man's daughter at Norwich who is still living Mr. Drury answered he was reproached by many people and he forgave them all he then called to a gentleman who was near the gallows and spoke to him about his estate which he had before settled afterwards he exhorted the people to live virtuously and be warned by his example and then submitted patiently to his fate on Thursday the 3rd of November 1726 being at that time of his deceased about 28 years of age end of chapter 39 chapter 40 of lives of the most remarkable criminals volume two this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Jeffrey Wilson Ames Iowa lives of the most remarkable criminals volume two by Arthur L. Hayward the life of William Miller a highwayman etc as necessary correction is often a method by which when young people begin to stray into the paths of vice they are deterred and brought back again into the road of virtue yet when this is unconsciously inflicted or done in a violent manner it frequently excites worse thoughts than would otherwise probably have entered the breasts of young people thus punished and instead of hindering them from committing trivial offenses puts them on doing the worst things imaginable in order to deliver them from a state more hateful to them than death itself this criminal William Miller was the son of very honest parents who lived at Newcastle upon time who took care to give him a good education and what was much more commendable a good example they put him out apprentice to a tradesman at Annick with whom he might have lived tolerably well had it not been for the cheerlessness of his master's temper who was continually picking quarrels with him and there upon beating him inhumanly at last an accident happened which supplied a continual fund of anger and resentment and this was on account of Williams losing a horse which though his friends paid for yet every time it came into his master's head there was a battle between them for Miller being now grown pretty big made resistance when he struck him and not seldom got the better of him and beat him in his turn this occasioned such disturbances and falling out between them that at last Miller took a resolution for leaving him for good and all and determined to live as he could up and down the country at first he was so lucky as to meet with a man who employed him readily treated him with kindness and gave him good advice without accompanying his reproofs with blows but upon discovering that his man William had not served out his time but had only five years and a half with his master he absolutely refused to suffer him to work any longer it was with great reluctancy that Miller parted with this master and he became every day after more and more uneasy because he found no other master would let him work with them upon the same account so that by degrees he was reduced to the great necessity in the country and though he was willing to work yet could not tell which way to turn his hand in the midst of these perplexities he thought himself of coming up to London which he put in execution on his arrival there he listed himself as a soldier in one of the regiments of guards and as it is no very hard matter in this town got abundance of amorous affairs upon his hands with one woman he lived a short time after his coming up to London but her he soon turned off for the sake of another who was a blacksmith's wife and whom he married notwithstanding her first husband was then to his acknowledge alive this was indeed the source of a great part of his misfortunes since what between the woman's drinking and the money which the husband got out of him for permitting him to live quietly with her he was notwithstanding he had learnt a new employment the delicit that of a basket maker miserably poor and the woman having brought him a child to increase his expenses he was at last forced whether he would or no to leave her and it both after this he associated with another woman and at length married her also with whom he lived quietly enough until the time of his death these numerous intrigues drew him in consequence into a multitude of other vices which both lost him his reputation and damaged his understanding especially when he came to drink hard which he at last did to such a degree that he was seldom or never sober or if he were the reflecting on his misfortunes pushed him on getting drunk as fast as he could a case but too common amongst the meaner sort of people who as they have no philosophy of learning to support them endeavor to drown all care by sodding whether Miller really intended to go a robbing at the time he committed the fact for which he died or whether drunkenness and the sense even in that condition which he retained of his misfortune on a sudden suggested to him the stripping of the old man Nicholas born under the favor of the night certain it is though from motives we cannot determine that he attacked the man and took from him his coat and hat on the injured persons crying out a watchman ran immediately to his assistance and with his pole notwithstanding Miller drew his bayonet knocked him down and so seized him and delivered him up to justice at the next sessions of the old Bailey he was indicted for this fact and the same was very fully and clearly proved against him yet though he had no friends capable of procuring him either a reprieve or pardon he had the good luck to remain a considerable space under condemnation the delicit from one sessions to another before the report was made and so had the greater leisure left him for repentance during the space he lay in the condemned hold he expressed a very hearty sorrow for all his offenses and particularly regretted his having addicted himself so much to the company of women which as it at first led him into expenses naturally brought him into narrow circumstances and his necessities unfortunately put him upon taking the fatal method of supplying himself yet in the midst of these tokens of penitence and contrition several women came still about him so he resolved to send the child he had by the second down to his friends in the country not doubting as he said but that they would take care of it and for the last of those who went for his wife he really looked upon her as such and therefore treated her with more kindness and affection than he did any of the rest however doubtless they were no great help to him in his preparations for death and amongst the other miseries produced to our view this is not a small one that they continue to pursue us even to the last and fasten so strongly about our thoughts and inclinations that as at first they defeated all consideration so in the end they are in danger of preventing a hardy and sincere repentance as to the particular fact for which he was to die he acknowledged himself guilty thereof but for all that objected to the several circumstances that were sworn against him at his trial nor could all the arguments that were used towards him persuade him that those trifling variations for as he himself represented them they were no more were not now at all material to him but that as he justly deserved to die according to his own confession it signified little to him whether the particular steps taken in his apprehension were exactly stated by the court or not as the day of his execution drew near he receded a little from these objections and began to set himself in earnest to acquire that calmness with which every reasonable man would desire to meet death the women he forbade visiting him refused to eat or drink anything but what was absolutely necessary to support nature plied himself regularly and constantly to his devotions and seemed to have nothing at heart but to reconcile himself to that divine being who by the multitude of his crimes he had so much offended to say truth it was not a little wonderful that a person after continuing for such a length of time in the practice of wickedness and debauchery should at last be capable of applying himself with such zeal and attention to the duties of a dying man he yielded up his life the 13th of february 1727 at tiburn being then 26 years of age end of chapter 40 recording by jeffrey wilson aims iowa