ntury-State of the Metropolis-Street robberies-Burglaries-Henry Fielding on the increase of robbers-The Thieves' Company-The Revolution Club-Firearms in the Law Courts-Causes of the increase of crime-

Earl of Macclesfield, Lord Chancellor, convicted of venal practices-Embezzlement by public officials-Crimes more commonplace, but more atrocious-Murder committed by Catherine Hayes and her accomplices-She is burnt alive for petty treason-Sarah Malcolm the Temple murderess-Other prominent and

don, under the auspices of J. Robins and Co. But another book of similar character had as its compiler "George Theodore Wilkinson, Esq.," barrister-at-law. It was published by Cornish and Co. in 1814, and the work was continued by "William Jackson, Esq.," another barrister, with Alexander Hogg, of Paternoster Row, and by Offor and Sons of Tower Hill as publishers. Early and perfect editions of these works are somewhat rare and curious, fondly sought out and carefully treasured by the bibliophile. But all of them were anticipated by the editors of the 'Tyburn Calendar,' or 'Malefactor's Bloody Register,' which issued soon after 1700 from the printing office of G. Swindells, at the appropriate address of Hanging Bridge, Manchester. The compilers of these volumes claimed a high mission. They desired "to fully display the regular progress from Virtue to Vice, interspersed with striking reflections on the conduct of thos

one publisher. As the years pass the publication changes hands. Now it is "J. Wilford, behind the Chapter House, St. Pauls"; now "I. Roberts at the Oxford Arms in Warwick Lane." Ere long "T. Applebee in Bolt Court, near the Leg Tavern," turns his attention to this interesting class of periodical literature. He also published another set of semi-official documents, several numbers of which are bound up with the sessions' papers already mentioned, and like them supplying important data for the compilation of calendars. These were the accounts given by the ordinary of Newgate of the behaviour, confessions, and dying words of the malefactors "executed at Tyburn," a report rendered by command of the Mayor and corporation, but a priv

ntains a first and faithful narration of each, "without any additions of feigned or romantic adventures, calculated merely to entertain the curiosity of the Reader." Jack Sheppard had many biographers. Seven accurate and authentic histories were published, all purporting to give the true story of his surprising adventures, and bequeathing a valuable legacy to the then unborn historical novelist, Mr. Harrison Ainsworth. Again, Rich, the Manager of the Lincoln's Inn Theatre, brought out 'Harlequin Jack Sheppard' in the year of that desperado's execution, an operatic pantomime founded upon his exploits. A little

en it broke open the house of the Provost Marshal Tooley in Holborn, "to whom they owed a grudge for impressing men to sell as recruits to Flanders."[141] "They burnt his furniture in the street; many persons were killed and wounded in the affray."[142] Now political parties, inflamed with rancorous spirit, created uproars in the "mug houses"; now mutinous soldiers violently protested against the coarse linen of their "Hanover" shirts; again the idle flunkies at a London theatre rose in revolt against new rules introduced by the management and produced a serious riot.[143] In the country gangs of ruffians disguised in female attire, the forerunners of Rebecca and her daughter, ran a muck against turnpike gates, demolishing all they found. There were smuggling riots, when armed crowds overpowered the custom's officers and broke into warehouses sealed by the Crown; corn riots at periods of scarcity, when priva

beries perpetrated within three weeks in January and February of the year above mentioned. A few of the most daring cases may be quoted. Three highwaymen stopped a gentleman of the Prince's household in Poland Street, and made the watchman throw away his lantern and stand quietly by while they robbed and ill-used their victim. Other highwaymen the same night fired at Colonel Montague's carriage as it passed along Frith Street Soho, because the coachman refused to stand; and the Duchess of Montrose, coming from Court in her chair, was stopped by highwaymen near Bond Street. The mails going out and coming into London were seized and rifled. Post-boys, stage-coaches, every-body and everything that travelled were attacked. A great peer, the Duke of Chandos, was twice stopped during the period above mentioned, but he and his servants were too strong for

h servants past and present, associated with receivers, and especially with the drivers of night coaches. Half the hackney coachmen about this time were in league with thieves, being bribed by nocturnal depre

mselves into gangs, and co-operated in crime. Fielding tells us in the same work that nearly a hundred rogues were incorporated in one body, "have officers and a treasury, and have reduced theft and robbery into a regular system." Among them were men who appeared in all disguises and mixed in all companies. The members of the society were not only versed in every art of cheating and thieving, but they were armed to evade the law, and if a prisoner could not be rescued, a prosecutor could be bribed, or some "rotten member of the law" forged a defence supported by false witnesses. This must have been perpetuated, for I find another reference later to the Thieves or Housebreaker's Company which had regular books, kept clerks, o

homas Bull in Southwark, and wounded others. Their numbers daily increase, and now become so formidable that constables are intimidated by their threats and desperate behaviour from any endeavour to apprehend

obey the rules, and if taken and sentenced to "die mute." Another instance of the lawlessness of the times is to be seen in the desperate attack made by some forty ruffians on a watch-house in Moorfields, where an accomplice was kept a prisoner. They were armed with pistols, cutlasses, and other offensive weapons. The watchman was wounded, the prisoner rescued. After this the ass

s pistols and shot Mr. Miller in the side, but it is thought did not wound him mortally. He was instantly secured and committed to Newgate." At the following Old Bailey sessions, he was tried under the Black Act, when he pleaded insanity. This did not avail him, and although the jury in convicting him strongly recommended him to mercy he was sentenced to death. Another case of still more flagrant contempt of court may fitly be introduced here. At the trial of a woman named Housden for coining at the Old Bailey in 1712, a man named Johnson, an ex-butcher and highwayman by profession, came into court and desire

lly profligate. Innumerable places of public diversion, ridottos, balls, masquerades, tea-gardens, and wells, offered crowds a ready means for self-indulgence. Classes aped the habits of the classes above their own, and the love of luxurious gratification "reached to the dregs of the people," says Fielding, "who, not being able by th

crations of the mob, which sought to vent its rage upon Sir Joseph Jekyll, the chief promoter of the Bill, was generally evaded. The much-loved poisonous spirit was still retailed under fictitious names, such as Sangree, Tow Row, the Makeshift, and King Theodore of Corsica. It was prescribed as a medicine for cholic to be taken two or three times a day. Numberless tumults arose out of the prohibition to retail spirituous liquors, and so openly was the law defied, that twelve thousand persons were convicted within two years of having sold them illegally in London. Informers were promptly bought off or intimidated, magistrates "through fear or corruption" would not convict, and the Act was repealed in t

man's Magazine' as that just quoted it is recorded that "the High Constable of Holborn searched a notorious gaming-house behind Gray's Inn Road; but the gamesters were fled, only the keeper was arrested and bound over for ￡200." Again, I find in Wade's 'Chronology' that "Justice Fielding, having received information of a rendezvous of gamesters in the Strand, procured a strong party of the Guards, who seized forty-five of the tables, which they broke to pieces, and carried the gamesters before the justice.... Under each of the broken tables were observed two iron rollers and two private springs, which those who were in the secret could touch and stop the turning whenever they had flats to deal with." No wonder these establishments throve. They were systematically organized, and administered by duly appointed officers. There was the commissioner who checked the week's accounts and pocketed the takings; a director to superintend the room; an operator to deal the cards, and four to five croupiers, who watched the cards and ga

any other trading establishment, the invention of E. O. tables, and the introduction of the "foreign games of roulet and rouge et noir. Little short of a million must have been amas

s Dau

ce bribed, informers intimidated. Armed ruffians and bludgeon men were employed to barricade the houses and resist the civil power. Private competed with public hells. Great ladies of fashion, holding their heads high in the social world, made their drawing-rooms into gambling places, into which young men of means were enticed and despoiled. This was called "pidgeoning," and probably originated the expression. The most noted female gamesters were Lady Buckinghamshire, Lady Archer, Lady Mount Edgecombe, a trio who had ea

e mischief by developing the rage for speculation, which extended to the whole community. The rich could purchase whole tickets, or "great goes"; for the more impecunious the tickets were subdivided into "little goes." Those who had no tickets at all could still gamble at the lottery insurance offices by backing an

nts, or a gang of thieves, are almost too big for the civil authority to repress;"[150] and the civil power generally, according to Fielding, was in a lethargic state. Yet private enterprise had sought for some time past to second the efforts of the State, and various societies for the reformation of manners laboured hard, but scarcely with marked success, to reduce crime. The first of these societies originated in the previous century by six private gentlemen, whose hearts were moved by the dismal and desperate state of the country "to engage in the difficult and dangerous enterprise;" and it was soon strengthened by the addition of "persons of eminency in the law, members of Parliament, justices of the peace, and considerable

in some way or other connected with Newgate. Crime was confined to no one class; while the lowest robbed with brutal violence, members of the highest stabbed and murdered each other on flimsy pretences, or

of the Keepe

mean?" cried the other. Swords were drawn, and a fight ensued. Savage, who found himself in front of one Sinclair, made several thrusts at his opponent, and ran him through the body. Lights were put out, and Savage tried to escape, but was captured in a back court. He and his associates were committed first to the gatehouse and thence to Newgate. Three weeks later they were arraigned at the Old Bailey, found guilty of murder, and cast for death.[151] The king's pardon was, however, obtained for Savage through the intercession of influential friends, but contrary, it is said, to the expressed wish of his mother.

he was at play in the Castle Tavern in Drury Lane, when a Mr. Gower and he fell out about a bet. Oneby threw a decanter at Gower, and Gower returned the fire with a glass. Swords were drawn, but at the interposition of others put up again. Gower was for making peace, but Oneby sullenly swore he would have the other's blood. When the party broke up he called Gower into another room and shut the door. A clashing of swords was heard within, the waiter broke open the door, and the company rushed in to find Oneby holding up Gower with his left hand, having his sword in his right. Blood was seen streaming through Gower's waistcoat, and his s

till he had consulted his eleven brethren; but the Major, elated at the ingenious arguments of his lawyer, fully counted upon speedy release. On his way back to gaol he entertained his friends at a handsome dinner given at the Crown and Anchor Tavern.[152] He continued to carouse and live high in Newgate for several months more, little doubting the result of the Judges' conference. They met after considerable delay in Sergeant's Inn Hall, counsel was heard on both sides, and the pleadings lasted a whole day. A friend called in the evening, and

is extremity. He was further exasperated by a letter from an undertaker in Drury Lane, who, having heard that the Major was to die on the following Monday, promised to perform the funeral "as cheap and in as decent a manner as any man alive." Another cause of annoyance was the publication of a broad sheet, entitled 'The Weight of Blood, or the Case of Major John Oneby,' the writer of which had visited the prisoner, ostensibly to offer to suppress the publication, but really as an "interviewer" to obtain some additio

great deal of trouble with me since I have been here." After this he begged to be left to sleep; but a friend called about seven, the Major cried feebly to hi

rs' contain a detailed account of another murder of much the same kind, that perpetrated by the Marquis de Paleoti upon his servant, John Niccolo, otherwise John the Italian, in 1718. The Marquis had come to England to visit his sister, who had married the Duke of Shrewsbury in Rome, and had launched out into a career of wild extravagance. The Duchess had paid his debts several times, but at length declined to assist him further. He was arrested and imprisoned, but his sister privately procured his discharge. After his enlargement, being without funds, the Marquis sent Niccolo to borrow what he could. But "the servant, having met with frequent denials, declined going, at which the Marquis drew his sword and killed him on the spot."[154] The Marquis seems to have hoped to have found sanctuary at the Bishop of Salisb

obtained a new commission through powerful friends, and was soon advanced to the grade of Colonel. Moving in the best society, he extended his gambling operations, and nearly robbed the Duchess of Queensbury of ￡3000 by placing her near a mirror, so that he could see all her cards. Escaping punishment for this he continued his depredations till he acquired a considerable fortune and several landed estates. Fate overtook him at last, and he became the victim of his own profligacy. Long notorious as an unprincipled and systematic seducer, by means of stratagems and bribes he effected the ruin of numbers, but was at length arrested on a charge of criminal assault. He lay in Newgate on the State side, lightly ironed, and enjoying the best of the prison until the trial at the Old Bailey in Feb. 1730. He was convicted and sentenced to die

thus dishonestly to mend his fortunes, impaired, it was said, by the South Sea Bubble speculations. He was tried before his peers, found guilty, and declared for ever incapable of sitting in Parliament, or of holding any office under the Crown; and further sentenced to a fine of ￡30,000 with imprisonment in the Tower until it was paid. Lord Macclesfi

d. It is thought greater people are in it to destroy the credit of the nation." Following this confession, bills were brought into the House of Commons charging Burton, Knight, and Duncombe with embezzlement, but "blanks are left for the House to insert the punishment, which is to be either fine, imprisonment, or loss of estates." Knight was found guilty of endorsing Exchequer bills falsely, but not of getting money thereby. Burton was found guilty; Duncombe's name is not mentioned, and Marriott was discharged. But this does not end the business. In the May following "Mr. Ellers, master of an annuity office in the Exchequer, was committed to Newgate for forging people's hands to their orders, and receiving a considerable sum of money thereon." Again in October, "Bellingham, an old offender, was convicted of felony in forging Exchequer bills; and a Mrs. Butler, also for forging a bond of ￡20,000, payable by the executors of Sir Robert Clayton six years after his death." Later on (1708) I find an entry in Luttrell that

te son, to join her in an attempt upon Hayes. A new lodger, Wood, arriving, it was necessary to make him a party to the plot, but he long resisted Mrs. Hayes' specious arguments, till she clenched them by declaring that Hayes was an atheist and a murderer, whom it could be no crime to kill, moreover that at his death she would become possessed of ￡1500, which she would hand over to Wood. Wood at last yielded, and after some discussion it was decided to do the dreadful deed while Hayes was in his cups. After a long drinking bout, in which Hayes drank wine, probably drugged, and the rest beer, the victim dragged himself to bed and fell on it in a stupor. Billings now went in, and with a hatchet struck Hayes a violent blow on the head and fractured his skull; then Wood gave the poor wretch, as he was not quite dead, two other more blows and finished him. The next job was to dispose o

which was now issued for the apprehension of the murderers. The woman was arrested by Mr. Justice Lambert in person, who had "procured the assistance of two officers of the Life Guards," and Billings with her. One was committed to the Bridewell, Tothill Fields, the other to the Gatehouse. Catherine's conduct when brought into the presence of her murdered husband's head almost passes belief. Taking the glass in which it had been preserved into her arms, she cried, "It is my dear husband's head," and shed tears as she embraced it. The surgeon having taken the head out of the case, she kissed it rapturously, and begged to b

rally burnt alive.[159] The fire reaching the hands of the hangman, he let go the rope by which she was to have been strangled, and the flames slowly consumed her, as she pushed the blazing faggots from her, and rent the air with her agonized cries. Hers, which took place on 9th May, 1726, was not the last execution of its kind. In November, 1750, Amy Hutchinson was burnt at Ely, after a conviction of petty treason, having poisoned a husband newly married, whom she had taken to spite a t

ded wealth, both in silver plate and broad coins, and she resolved to become possessed of it, hoping when enriched to gain a young man of her acquaintance named Alexander as her husband. Mrs. Duncombe had two other servants, Elizabeth Harrison, also aged, and a young maid named Ann Price, who resided with her in the Temple. One day (Feb. 2, 1733) a friend coming to call upon Mrs. Duncombe was unable to gain admittance.

handle. The watchmen had suffered Sarah to go at large, but she was forthwith rearrested; on searching her, a green silk purse containing twenty-one counters was found upon her, and she was committed to Newgate. There, on arrival, she sought to hire the best accommodation, offering two or three guineas for a room upon the Master Debtors' side. Roger Johnston, a turnkey, upon this searched her, and discovered "concealed under her hair," no doubt in a species of a chignon, "a bag containing twenty moidores, eighteen guineas, and a number of other broad pieces." This money she confessed had come from Mrs. Duncombe; but she sto

times. But women had no monopoly of assassination, in those days when life was held so cheap. Male murderers were still more numerous, and also more pitiless and bloodthirsty. The calendars are replete with homicides, and to refer to them in anything like detail would bot

d entering the navy, "served with credit on board different king's ships for eighteen years." On his discharge, seeking employment, he obtained the situation of public executioner. He might have lived decently on the hangman's wages and perquisites, but he was a spendthrift, who soon became acquainted wit

on a Charge of Murde

ead in a most shameful manner, and forced one of her eyes from the socket."[161] One account says that he was taken red-handed close to the scene of his guilt; another, the more probable, that he was arrested on his way to Tyburn with a convict for the gallows. In any case his unfortunate victim had just life left in her to bear testimony against him. Price was committed to Newgate, and tried for his life. His defence was, that in crossing Moorfields he found something lying in his way, which

not been long married before his new wife taxed him with having another wife. He swore it was false, and offered to take the sacrament upon it. She appeared satisfied, and begged him to clear his reputation. "Do not be uneasy," he said; "in a little time I will make you sensible I have no other wife." He now resolved to make away with the first Mrs. Louis Houssart, otherwise Ann Rondeau, and reopened communications with her. Finding her in ill-health, one day he brought her "a medicine which had the appearance of conserve of roses, w

heir, now lodged an appeal, in the name of John Doe and Richard Roe, against Houssart, who was eventually again brought to trial. Various pleas were put forward by the defence in bar of further proceedings, among others that there was no such persons as John Doe and Richard Roe, but this plea, with the rest, was overruled, the fact being sworn to that there was a John Doe in Middlesex, a weaver, also a Richard Roe, who was a soldier, and the trial went on. The boy's evidence was very plain. He remembered Houssart distinctly, had seen him by the light of a lantern at a butcher's shop; he wore a whitish coat. The boy also recognized Mrs. Rondeau as the woman to whom he

in his company, as he was married to "Little Jenny." But she implored him to be friends, and having followed him to an ale-house seeking reconciliation, he so slashed her fingers with a knife that she came back with bleeding hands. That same night, when his wife met him on his return home, he ordered her to light him to his room, then drawing his knife, stabbed her in the breast. The poor woman bled to death in half-an-hour. Davis after the deed was done was seized with contrition, and when arrested and on his way to Newgate, he told the peace officer that he had k

was warned by some of his fellow-servants against trusting herself alone with him, but "she said she had no fear of him, as he had treated her with unusual kindness." They drove off towards Hounslow. On the way she begged him to stop while she bought some snuff, but he refused, laughingly declaring she would never want to use snuff again. When they reached Hounslow Heath it was nearly ten o'clock at night. The time and place being suitable, he suddenly threw his whip-lash round his wife's throat and drew it tight. As the cord was not quite in the right place he coolly altered it, and di

ng on and on till he reached his own home in Wales. His father gave him refuge for a couple of days, but a report of his being in the house got about, and he had to fly to Gloucester, where he became an ostler at an inn. In Gloucester he was again recognized as the man who had killed his wife on Hounslow Heath by a gentleman who promised not to betray him, but warned him that he would be taken into custody if he remained in t

wife into the grate and scorched her arm; frequently he drove her out of doors in scanty clothing at late hours and in inclement weather. One day his anger was roused by seeing a pot of ale going into his house for his wife, who was laid up with a fractured arm. He rushed in, and after striking the tankard out of her hand, seized her by the bad arm, twisted it till the bone again separated. The fracture was

s barely touching it, by a rope run through a staple. She was locked up in a closet, and close by was placed a small piece of bread and butter, which she could just touch with her lips. She was allowed a small portion of water daily. Sometimes a girl who was in the house gave the poor creature a stool to rest her feet on, but Williamson discovered it

ked him about the miniature. Provoked by her insults, Gardelle told her she was a very impertinent woman; at which she struck him a violent blow on the chest. He pushed her from him, "rather in contempt than anger," as he afterwards declared, "and with no desire to hurt her;" her foot caught in the floor-cloth, she fell backward, and her head came with great force against a sharp corner of the bedstead, for Gardelle apparently had followed her into her bed-room. The blood immediately gushed from her mouth, and he at once ran up to assist her and express his concern; but she pushed him away, threatening him with the consequences of his act. He was greatly terrified

try for the day. Later on he paid her wages on behalf of Mrs. King and discharged her, with the, explanation that her mistress intended to bring home a new maid with her. Having now the house to himself, he entered the chamber of death, and stripped the body, which he laid in the bed. He next disposed of the blood-stained bed-clothes by p

first time. The discharged maid-servant was hunted up, and as she declared she knew nothing of the wash-tub or its contents, and as Mrs. King was still missing, the neighbours began to move in the matter. Mr. Barron, an apothecary, came and questioned Gardelle, who was so much confused in his answers that a warrant was obtained for his arrest. Then Mrs. King's bed-room was examined, and that of Gardelle, now a prisoner. In both were found conclusive evidence of foul play. By-and-by in the cock-loft and elsewhere portions of the missing woman were discovered, and some jewellery known to be hers was traced to Gardelle, who did not long deny hi

so kept for three successive days, but suffered to go to bed at night time. On the third night she was so weak she could hardly creep up-stairs. On the fourth day her fellow apprentices were brought to witness her torments as an incentive to exertion, but were forbidden to afford her any kind of relief. On this the last day of her torture she faltered in speech and presently expired. The Meteyards now tried to bring their victim to with hartshorn, but finding life was extinct, they carried the body up to the garret and locked it in. Then four days later they enclosed it in a box, left the garret door ajar, and spread a report through their house that "Nanny" had once more absconded. The deceased had a sister, a fellow apprentice, who declared she was persuaded "Nanny" was dead; whereupon the Meteyards also murdered the sister and secreted the body. Anne's body remained in the garret for a couple of months, when the stench of decomposition was

nights in a coal-hole, with no bed but a sack and some straw. She was often nearly perished with cold. Once after a long diet of bread and water, when nearly starved to death, she rashly broke into a cupboard in search of food and was caught in the act. Mrs. Brownrigg, to punish her, made her strip, and while she was naked repeatedly beat her with the butt end of a whip. Then fastening a jack-chain around her neck she drew it as tight as possible without strangling, and sent her back to the coal-hol

nt she and Mary Clifford had received. A further search was made in the Brownrigg's house, but without effect. At length, under threat of removal to prison, Mrs. Brownrigg produced Clifford "from a cupboard under a beaufet in the dining-room." "It is impossible," says the account, "to describe the miserable appearance of this poor girl; nearly her whole body was ulcerated." Her life was evidently in imminent danger. Having been removed to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, she died there within a few days. The man Brownrigg was arrested, but the woman and son made their escape. Shifting their abode from place to place, buying new disguises from time to time at rag-fairs, eventually they took refuge in lodgings at Wandsworth, where they were recog