TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: This e-text has been prepared in accordance with
the Introduction’s explanation that the papers are presented _verbatim
et literatim_, “word for word from copy”; all apparent errors are as
printed in the original.
CURIOSITIES OF STREET LITERATURE:
[Illustration]
LONG-SONG SELLER.
(_From a Daguerreotype by_ BEARD.)
“Three yards a penny! Three yards a penny! Beautiful songs!
Newest songs! Popular songs! Three yards a penny!
Songs, songs, songs!”
CURIOSITIES OF STREET LITERATURE:
COMPRISING
“COCKS,” OR “CATCHPENNIES,”
A LARGE AND CURIOUS ASSORTMENT OF STREET-DROLLERIES, SQUIBS,
HISTORIES, COMIC TALES IN PROSE AND VERSE,
BROADSIDES ON THE ROYAL FAMILY,
POLITICAL LITANIES, DIALOGUES, CATECHISMS, ACTS OF PARLIAMENT,
STREET POLITICAL PAPERS,
A VARIETY OF “BALLADS ON A SUBJECT,”
DYING SPEECHES AND CONFESSIONS.
TO WHICH IS ATTACHED THE ALL-IMPORTANT AND NECESSARY
AFFECTIONATE COPY OF VERSES,
AS
“Come, all you feeling-hearted Christians, wherever you may be,
Attention give to these few lines, and listen unto me;
It’s of this cruel murder, to you I will unfold,
The bare recital of the same will make your blood run cold.”
“What hast here? ballads? I love a ballad in print, or a life;
for then we are sure they are true.”--SHAKESPEARE.
“There’s nothing beats a stunning good murder, after
all.”--EXPERIENCE OF A RUNNING PATTERER.
LONDON:
REEVES AND TURNER,
196, STRAND.
1871.
NOTICE.
The “Execution Paper” of John Gregson, for the Murder of his Wife, at
Liverpool--page 235 of CONTENTS--is CANCELLED, and Eight Pages, “THE
HEROES OF THE GUILLOTINE,” supplied instead.
196, STRAND, _December 30th, 1870_.
CURIOSITIES
OF
STREET LITERATURE.
[Illustration: No. 126 _of the_
Fine TONED DEMY 4to EDITION.
ONLY
TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY
COPIES PRINTED.]
Purchased _by_ ______________________________________
_Of_ ____________________________________________
_On the_ __________ _day of_ ______________ 187
GUARANTEED ONLY FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX COPIES PRINTED,
NAMELY,--
£ s. d.
250 on Fine Toned Demy 4to Published at 1 1 0
100 on Large Post 4to, printed on one side of the paper only ” 1 5 0
100 on Fine French Linear Writing Paper, printed on one side
only, and in imitation of the Catnachian tea-like paper of old ” 1 11 6
6 on Yellow Demy 4to paper ” 2 2 0
----
456
[Illustration] EACH COPY OF EACH EDITION NUMBERED.
INTRODUCTION.
In selecting and arranging this collection of “Street Papers” for
publication, every care has been taken to print them _verbatim et
literatim_. They all bear the printer’s name and address were such is
used, and, in many cases, the wood-cuts have either been borrowed or
purchased for the purpose of presenting them in their original style.
The real object being to show, in the most genuine state, the character
and quality of the productions written expressly for the amusement
of the lower orders by street-authors. The general instruction given
to our printer has been to “set up word for word from copy, with the
exception of sɹǝʇʇǝʃ pǝuɹnʇ (_sic_) and those of a WRO_n_g _F_oNT
(?)”--it being thought quite unnecessary to repeat these _convenient_
and at that time _compulsory_ “Errors of the Press” and which were
very common in former days with the printers and publishers of street
and public-house literature; arising alike from a want of skill in the
art, a deficiency of capital, and the hurried manner in which they were
prepared and worked off to meet the momentary demand.
Old “Jemmy” Catnach--whose name is ever associated with the literature
of our streets--was a man who hated “innowations,” as he used to call
improvements, and had a great horror of buying type, because, as he
used to observe, he kept no standing formes, and when certain sorts run
short, he was not particular, and would tell the boys to use anything
which would make a good shift. For instance, he never considered a
compositor could be aground for a lowercase l while he had a figure
of 1 or a cap. I to fall back upon; by the same rule, the cap. O and
figure 0 were synonymous with “Jemmy;” the lower-case p, b, d, and
q, would all do duty for each other in _turn_, and if they could not
always find roman letters to finish a word with, why the compositor
knew very well that the “reader” would not mark out ita_lic_.
At the time Catnach commenced business. “Johnny” Pitts,[1] of the
Toy and Marble Warehouse, No. 6, Great St. Andrew Street, was the
acknowledged and established Printer of Street-Literature for the
“Dials” district; therefore, as may be easily imagined, a powerful
rivalry and vindictive jealousy soon arose between these “two of a
trade”--most especially on the part of “Old Mother” Pitts, who is
described as being a coarse and vulgar-minded personage, and as having
originally followed the trade of a bumboat woman at Portsmouth: she
“vowed vengeance against the young fellow in the court for daring to
set up in their business, and also spoke of him as young “Catsnatch,”
“Catblock,” “Cut-throat,” and many other opprobrious terms being freely
given to the new comer. Pitts’ staff of “bards” were duly cautioned
of the consequences which would inevitably follow should they dare to
write a line for Catnach--the new _cove_ in the court. The injunction
was for a time obeyed, but the “Seven Bards of the Dials” soon found it
not only convenient, but also more profitable to sell copies of their
effusions to both sides at the same time, and by keeping their own
council they avoided detection, as each printer accused the other of
buying an early sold copy, and then reprinting it off with the utmost
speed, and which was in reality often the case, as “Both Houses” had
an emissary on the constant look-out for any new production suitable
for street-sale. Now, although this style of “Double dealing” and
competition tended much to lessen the cost price to the “middle-man,”
or vendor, the public in this case did not get any of the reduction,
as a penny broadside was still a penny, and a quarter sheet still a
halfpenny to them, the “street-patterer” obtaining the whole of the
reduction as extra profit.
The feud existing between these rival publishers, who have been
somewhat aptly designated as the Colburn and Bentley of the “paper”
trade, never abated, but, on the contrary, increased in acrimony of
temper until at last not being content to vilify each other by words
alone, they resorted to printing off virulent lampoons, in which
Catnach never failed to let the world know that “Old Mother Pitts” had
been formerly a bumboat woman, while the Pitts announced that--
“All the boys and girls around,
Who go out prigging rags and phials,
Know Jemmy _Catsnatch_!!! well,
Who lives in a back slum in the Dials.
He hangs out in Monmouth Court,
And wears a pair of blue-black breeches,
Where all the “Polly Cox’s crew” do resort
To chop their swag for badly printed Dying Speeches.
At length Catnach, from the possession of greater capital and business
acumen, became--to use the words of our informant--“the Cock of the
Walk,” and continued so until his retirement in 1839. In his Will--or
LAST DYING SPEECH--which was proved April, 1842, “James Catnach, of
Dancer’s Hill, South Mimms, in the county of Middlesex, gentleman,
formerly of Monmouth Court, Monmouth Street, printer, bequeathed the
whole of his estate to his sister Anne, the widow of Joseph Ryle, in
trust, nevertheless, for her daughter, Marion Martha Ryle, until she
obtain the age of twenty-one years. Witnesses--William Kinsey, 13,
Suffolk St., Pall Mall, Solr. Wm. Tookey his clerk.”
The present street literature printers and publishers are Mr. W.
S. Fortey (Catnach’s successor), of 2 and 3, Monmouth Court, Seven
Dials. Mr. Henry Disley (formerly with Catnach), 57, High Street, St.
Giles’s. Mr. Taylor, Brick Lane, Spitalfields. Mr. H. Such, 177, Union
Street, Borough; and Mr. J. Harkness, 121, Church Street, Preston. From
whose “establishments” upwards of two thousand street “papers” and
“ballads” have been obtained, and from which--together with a private
collection--we have made our selection to form “THE CURIOSITIES OF
STREET LITERATURE.”
With such a vast amount of “material” to hand, it is somewhat difficult
to know which to retain and which to reject. It being utterly
impossible to reproduce the whole, the only thing to be done is to
make the attempt to divide them into something like classes. We have,
therefore, arranged our collection into four divisions, which may be
briefly alluded to as--I. “COCKS,” OR “CATCHPENNIES.” II. ROYALTY AND
POLITICAL. III. BALLADS ON A SUBJECT. IV. DYING SPEECH AND CONFESSIONAL
PAPERS.
During the progress of our “Collection” through the press, we had, by
a special appointment, an interview with Mr. John Morgan, a street
author, and who may be said to be the oldest of his peculiar class.
“I’m the last one left of our old crew, Sir,” he observed during our
conversation. He is now upwards of 70 years of age, and formerly
wrote for “Old Jemmy” Catnach, with whose personal history he is
well acquainted, and still continues to write for the “Seven Dials
Press.” A street ballad from his pen will be found at page 103 of our
work. In allusion to Mr. John Morgan, the writer of an article on
“Street Ballads” in the _National Review_ for October, 1861, makes the
following remarks:--
“This ballad--‘Little Lord John out of Service’--is one of the few
which bear a signature. It is signed ‘John Morgan’ in the copy which
we possess. For a long time we believed this name to be a mere
_nom-de-plume_; but the other day, when making a small purchase in
Monmouth Court, we were informed, in answer to a casual question, that
this is the real name of the author of some of the best comic ballads.
Our informant added, that he is an elderly, we may say old, gentleman,
living somewhere in Westminster; but the exact whereabouts we could
not discover. Mr. Morgan followed no particular visible calling so far
as our informant knew, except writing ballads, by which he could not
earn much of a livelihood, as the price of an original ballad, in these
buying-cheap days, has been screwed down by publishers to somewhere
about a shilling sterling. Something more like bread-and-butter might
be made perhaps by poets who were in the habit of singing their own
ballads, as some of them do, but not Mr. Morgan. Should this ever
meet the eye of that gentleman (a not very probable event, we fear),
we beg to apologise for the liberty we have taken in using the verses
and name, and hope he will excuse us, having regard to the subject
in which we are his humble fellow-labourers. We could scarcely avoid
naming him, the fact being that he is the only living author of street
ballads whose name we know. That self-denying mind, indifferent to
worldly fame, which characterised the architects of our cathedrals and
abbeys, would seem to have descended on our ballad-writers; and we must
be thankful, therefore, to be able to embalm and hand down to posterity
a name here and there, such as William of Wykeham, and John Morgan. In
answer to our inquiries in this matter, generally we have been told,
‘Oh, anybody writes them’ and with that answer we have had to rest
satisfied. But in presence of that answer, we walk about the streets
with a new sense of wonder, peering into the faces of those of our
fellow-lieges who do not carry about with them the external evidence
of overflowing exchequers, and saying to ourselves, ‘That man may be a
writer of ballads.’
With regard to illustrations, a ballad-printer is in the habit of
buying up old wood-cuts which have been engraved for any other works,
and of applying them to his own purposes; disregarding alike their age,
rudeness, and condition. Most of those adopted are repeatedly employed
over and over again. The printers of “broadsides” seldom care whether
an ornament of the kind used is, or not, appropriate to the subject of
the ballad, so long as it is likely to attract attention. Many examples
will be found in this collection, and we are indebted to Mr. H. Disley
and others for the use of the same.
“The authors and poets who give this peculiar literature, alike in
prose or rhyme to the streets, are all in some capacity or another
connected with street-patter or song; and the way in which a narrative
or a ‘copy of werses’ is prepared for the press is usually this:--The
leading members of the ‘schools’--some of whom refer regularly to the
evening papers--when they hear of any out-of-the-way occurrence, resort
to the printer and desire its publication in a style proper for the
streets. This is usually done very speedily, the school--or a majority
of them--and the printer agreeing with the author. Sometimes an author
will voluntarily prepare a piece of street-literature and submit it to
a publisher, who, as in case of other publishers, accepts or declines,
as he believes the production will or will not prove remunerative.
Sometimes the school carry the manuscript with them to the printer, and
undertake to buy a certain quantity to insure publication. The payment
to the author is the same in all cases--a shilling; but sometimes if
the printer and publisher like the verses he “throws a penny or two
over.” And sometimes also, in case of a great sale there is the same
“over-sum.” The “Dials” and its immediate neighbourhood is the chief
residence of these parties, as being nearest to the long-established
printer they have made it the ‘head meet’ of the fraternity.
“It must be borne in mind that the street-author is closely restricted
in the quality of his effusions. It must be such as the patterers
approve, as the chanters can chant, the ballad singers sing, and--above
all, such as the street buyers will buy.”[2]
We have recently met, near the Strand, the street ballad singer of our
youth, and, from whom we procured, “Wait for the Turn of the Tide,” and
“Call her back and Kiss Her,” and the following information--“Oh, yes,
I remember you, remember you well; particularly when I see you down at
Brighton; when you treated me to that hot rum and water; when I was
so wet and cold, at a little snug public-house in one of the streets
that leads off the main street. I don’t remember the name on it now,
but I remembers the rum and water well enough; it was good. You said
it would be, and so it was, and no mistake. How old am I now? Why,
59. How long have I been at it? Why, hard on fifty years. I was about
nine or ten year old--no, perhaps I might have been 12 year old, when
I come to think on it. Yes, about 12 year old; my mother was a widow
with five children, and there was a boy in our street as used to go
out singing ballads, and his mother said to my mother, ‘Why don’t you
let your boy (that’s me) go out and sing ballads like my boy.’ And I
said I didn’t mind, and I did go out, and I’ve been at it ever since,
so you see it ’aint far short of 50 year. How many do I sell in a day?
Well, not so many as I used to do, by a long way. I’ve sold me four and
five quires a-day, but I don’t sell above two and three dozen a-day
now. That’s all the difference you see, sir--dozens against quires.
How do I live then? Why, you see I am now so well-known in different
parts of London, that lots and lots of people comes up to me--like you
always do--and says--‘How do you do, old fellow? I remember you when I
was a boy, if its a man, and when I was a girl, if its a woman.’ And
says, ‘So you are still selling songs, eh?’ Then they give me a few
coppers; some more and some less than others, and says they don’t want
the songs. Some days--very often--I’ve had more money giving me than
I’ve took for the ballads. Yes, I have travelled all over England--all
over it I think--but the North’s the best--Manchester, Liverpool, and
them towns; but down Bath and Cheltenham way I was nearly starved. I
was coming back from that way, I now remember, when I met you, sir,
at Brighton that time. I buy my ballads at various places--but now
mostly over the water, because I live there now and it’s handiest.
Mr. Such, the printer, in Union-street in the Borough. Oh! yes, some
at Catnach’s--leastways, it ain’t Catnach’s now, it’s Fortey’s. Yes,
I remember ‘old Jemmy Catnach’ very well; he wa’n’t a bad sort, as
you say; leastways, I’ve heard so, but I never had anything of him.
I always paid for what I had, and did not say much to him, or he to
me--writing his life of him, are you indeed? No, I can’t give you no
more information about him than that, because, as I said before, I
bought my goods as I wanted them, and paid for them, then away on my
own account and business. Well, he was a man something like you--a
little wider across the shoulders, perhaps, but about such a man as
you are. I did know a man as could have told you a lot about ‘old
Jemmy,’ but he’s dead now; he was one of his authors, that is, he
wrote some of the street-ballads for him, and very good ones they
used to be, that is, for selling. Want some old ‘Dying Speeches’ and
‘Cocks,’ do you indeed; well, I a’nt got any--I don’t often ‘work’ them
things, although I have done so sometimes, but I mostly keep to the
old game--‘Ballads on a Subject.’ You see them other things are no use
only just for the day, then they are no use at all, so we don’t keep
them--I’ve often given them away. You’d give sixpence a piece for them,
would you, indeed, sir; then I wish I had some of them. Now I come
to think of it I know a man that did have a lot of them bye him, and
I know he’d be glad to sell them. I don’t know where he lives, but I
sometimes see him. Oh! yes, a letter would find me. My name is Samuel
Milnes, and I live at No. 81, Mint-street, that’s in the Borough;
you know, Guager is the name at the house. Thank you, sir, I’m much
obliged. Good day, sir.”
It will be seen that our street-ballads and “papers” come down to
the latest period, several being issued during the printing of this
collection; in fact, any public affair seems of sufficient importance
to write a ballad about. We have, therefore, placed some blank leaves
between each division, for the purpose of mounting other examples that
may be from time to time published by the printers of Street Literature.
[1] Pitts, a modern publisher of love garlands, merriments, penny
ballads,--
“Who, ere he went to heaven,
Domiciled in Dials Seven!”--G. DANIEL’S “Democritus In London.”
[2] “Mayhew’s London Labour and the London Poor.”
CONTENTS.
DIVISION I.
“COCKS” or “CATCHPENNIES,” STREET DROLLERIES, &c.
PAGE
Horrid Murder committed by a Young Man on a Young Woman a
Cruel and Inhuman Murder committed upon the body of Captain Lawson b
Life, Trial and Execution of James Ward c
Shocking Rape and Murder of two Lovers d
Full Particulars of this Dreadful Murder 1
Committal of W. Thompson for the Murder of his Wife 2
A Remarkable Punishment of Murder 3
The Life of the Man that was Hanged, but is now Alive 4
The Liverpool Tragedy 5
Massacre of Passengers and Crew, &c. 6
Full Particulars of the Horrible Great Fire in London 7
An Account of the Fatal Thunderstorm 8
The Scarborough Tragedy 9
An Extraordinary Wager of £5,000 12
Funny Doings in this Neighbourhood 13
The Love Letter, or a Married Man Caught in a Trap 14
All Found out at Last 15
The Yorkshire Knight 16
Account of the Faithful Lovers 17
Full Account of the Dreadful Quarrel, &c. 18
An Account of the Dreadful Apparition to Henry ---- 19
Dreadful Catastrophe in this Neighbourhood 20
The Secrets Revealed of Lord and Lady ---- 21
Elopements Extraordinary 22
Funny Love Affair and Elopement 23
Wonderful Judgment on a Blasphemer 24
Strange Warning to a Publican 25
Apparition to Discover a Hidden Murder 26
Particulars of a well-known Fortune Teller 27
Fortune Telling and its Results 28
A Minister in a Trance for four days and nights 29
The Female Sleep-Walker 30
Dialogue between Death and a Sinner 31
The Railway to Heaven 32
Railroad to Hell 33
Pretty Maidens Beware 34
The Pretty Maid and Amorous Squire 35
The “Taking off” of Prince Albert’s Inexpressibles 36
Battle of Pea Soup 37
The greatest old ---- in this neighbourhood 38
Old Mother Clifton 39
Sale of a Wife 40
The Perpetual Almanack 41
The Far Famed Fairy Tale 42
Teasing made Easy for the Ladies 43
The Tradesman’s Hymn 44
The Register of the Manor of Dunmow 45
The Rent Day, or Black Monday 46
How to Cook a Wife 47
Alarming Sacrifice! Sale by Auction 48
The Genuine Thing, or Last of the Cocks 49
Blank Leaves for Mounting other Examples of STREET LITERATURE
DIVISION II.
BROADSIDES ON THE ROYAL FAMILY, POLITICAL LITANIES, &c.
Our King is a true British Sailor 53
King William IV. and his Ministers 54
Queen Victoria 55
Coronation of Queen Victoria 56
Sailor Jack and the Queen 57
The Queen’s Marriage 58
Attempt to Assassinate the Queen and Albert 59
Accouchement of Her Majesty--Birth of a Princess 60
Queen’s Wants at Childbirth, &c. 61
A Stranger in Her Majesty’s Bedroom--Boy Jones again! 62
Mr. Ferguson and Queen Victoria 63
Accouchement of the Majesty--Birth of Prince of Wales 64
A New Song on the Birth of the Prince of Wales 65
The Owdham Chap’s Visit to the Queen 66
Opening of the Royal Exchange 67
Prince of Wales’s Marriage 68
A Scene in the Election--a Farce! 69
Universal Spelling Book 70
Dialogue and Song on the Times 71
John Bull _v._ the Pope’s Bull 72
A Political Catechism 73
The Famine Fast Day 74
New Form of Prayer and Belief 75
A Political Litany on the Times 76
Political Litany on Present Parliament 77
Derbyites, Dizzyites, and Adullumites 78
A New Litany on Reform 79
The Coming Election--a Conversation between Bill Gladstone and
Ben Dizzy 80
A Political Thanksgiving, for the Victory gained by the Liberals,
and the Defeat of the Tories!! 81
Belief and Commandments on the Rights of Women 82
Political and Reform Alphabet 83
A Litany on the Irish Church Question 84
A Litany on the Irish Land Question 85
The New Intended Reform Bill 86
The New Act of Parliament 87
The New Streets Act 88
The Poor Law Catechism 89
The Soldier’s Catechism 90
The Drunkard’s Catechism 91
New Beer House Act 92
Conversation of Nelson--Battle of Waterloo 93
New Song on the Times--The Agony Bill 94
Repeal of the Corn Laws--Opening of the Ports 95
Liberation of O’Connell--A Song on the Times 96
A New Song on Byng and Burdett 97
Fleetwood Strickland and Reform Triumphant--Peterloo 98
The State of Great Britain--Song of the Election 99
Death of Wellington 100
The Fall of Sebastopol--Battle of Alma 101
The Nightingale of the East--Battle of Inkerman 102
Sebastopol Arose--Little Lord John 103
To the Memory of Cobden--Kearsage and the Alabama 104
Dizzy’s Lament: Oh, dear! Oh, dear! what shall I do? 105
Battle of Freedom and Reform 106
The Great Reform Meeting 107
When we get Johnny’s Reform 108
Freedom and Reform 109
The Liberal Majority of 110 110
The Reform Demonstration 111
Reform Meeting at Blackheath 112
The Fenians are Coming 113
Awful Explosion in Clerkenwell 114
Sunday Trading Bill 115
Southwark Election--Odger and Victory 116
Blank Leaves for other Examples
DIVISION III.
A COLLECTION OF “BALLADS ON A SUBJECT.”
The Female Husband 119
Shakespeare’s House 120
The Bloomer Costume 121
Manchester’s an altered Town--Preston Guild 122
Prophecy for 1850--Grace Darling 123
Sayer’s and Heenan’s Fight for Championship 124
Accident on the Ice in Regent’s Park 125
Foreigners in England 126
What shall we do for meat? 127
Fifteen Shillings a week 128
The Great Agricultural Show 129
The Windham Lunacy Case 130
The Old Marquis and his Wife 131
Marriage of the Lady and her Groom 132
Yelverton Marriage case 133
The Naughty Lord and Gay Lady 134
Strike of the Journeymen Tailors 135
Wonderful Mr. Spurgeon 136
A Night in a London Workhouse 137
The Ghost of Woburn Square 138
The Wicked Woman of Chigwell 139
Mary Newell, the Artful Girl of Pimlico 140
The She-He Barman of Southwark 141
Beautiful for Ever,--So much for Madame Rachel 142
Funny Doings in the Convent 143
The Dunmow Fitch of Bacon 144
Last Dying Speech of the Lord Mayor’s Show 145
International Boat Race 146
Ladies New Fashioned Petticoats 147
Suppression of the Crinoline 148
Downfall of the Chignons 149
Dandy Horse, or The Wonderful Velocipede 150
The Lord Mayor’s Show 152
Opening of the Viaduct 152
Cabmen and their New Flags 153
The Funny Divorce Case 154
Brighton Volunteer Review 155
Frolicsome Parson Outwitted 156
The Funny He-she Ladies! 157
Blank Leaves for other Examples
DIVISION IV.
THE “GALLOWS” LITERATURE OF THE STREETS.
Life and Execution of Sir John Oldcastle (1417) 161
Dying Speeches and Execution of Ballard and others 162
” Salisbury and others 163
Execution of Ballard, &c. 164
” of Luke Hutton 165
” of the Conspirators in the Gunpowder Plot 166
” of Sir Walter Raleigh 167
” of Sir Thomas Armstrong 168
Trial and Execution of Nevison, the Highwayman 169
” of James Lowry 170
” of John Swan and Elizabeth Jeffryes 171
” of Six Malefactors at Tyburn 172
” of John Austen for a Cruel Murder 173
Trial and Sentences of all the Prisoners, and an Account of the
Pillory of John Lingard for Perjury 174
Trial and Execution of John Hogan for Murder 175
” of Joseph Richards for Murder 176
Execution of Six Unfortunate Malefactors, and the Barbarous
Execution and Burning of Phœbe Harris for Coining Silver 177
Trials and Sentences of all the prisoners, together with the
Execution of 15 Unfortunate Convicts 178
Execution of Eight Convicts at the Old Bailey 179
-------- of Five Unfortunate Sailors 180
Trial and Execution of Clinch and Mackley for the Wicked Murder
of Mr. Fryer, Islington Fields 181
Court-Martial, Sentence, and Execution of Richard Parker, for the
Mutiny at the Nore 182
Trial and Execution of Mary Nott, for the Murder of a French
Emigrant, and Richard Ludman, for the Murder of George Hebner
in a brothel 183
Execution of James Nesbett, for the Murder of Mr. Parker and
his Housekeeper 184
Sentences all the Prisoners at the Old Bailey, 11th September,
1822 185
Copy of Verses on the Death of Ann Williams, who was barbarously
murdered by her sweetheart, W. Jones, in Derbyshire, July 1823 186
Confession and Execution of John Thurtell, for the Murder of
Weare, at Hertford Gaol 187
Trial, Confession, and Execution C. T. White, the bookseller, for
Arson, and Amelia Roberts, for Robbery 188
Confession and Execution of Wm. Corder, for the Murder of Maria
Marten in the Red Barn 189
Trial, Sentence, Confession, and Execution of Bishop and Williams,
THE BURKERS 190-1
---- of James Greenacre, for the Edgeware-road Murder 192
---- of Courvoisier, for the Murder of Lord Wm. Russell 193
---- of Robert Blakesley, for the Murder of Jas. Burden 194
---- of Daniel Good, for the Murder of Jane Jones 195
---- of T. B. Rush, for the Murder of Mr. Jermy 196
---- of J. G. Wilson, for the Murder of a Wife, two children, and
the Maid at Liverpool 197
---- Manning and his Wife, for the Murder of Patrick O’Connor 198
The Esher Tragedy, Six Children Murdered by their Mother, Mrs.
Brough, Nurse to the Prince of Wales 199
Execution of William Cogan, for the Murder of his Wife 200
---- of G. Gardner for Shooting his Sweetheart 201
Life, Trial and Execution of W. G. Youngman, the Walworth Murderer 202
The Wigan Murder.--Examination and Confession of John Healey 203
Execution of Priscilla Biggadike for the Wilful Murder of her
Husband 204
---- of Frederick Baker, the Alton Murderer 205
---- of M’Conville and Dolan 206
---- of Samuel Wright, for Murder of Maria Green 207
---- of James Clitheroe, for Murder 208
Horrid Murder of a Gentleman in a Railway Carriage 209
Murder in a Railway Train 210
Chase, Capture, and Arrival of Muller, for the Murder of Mr.
Briggs in a Railway Train 211
Execution and Confession of Muller 212
---- of James Longhurst 213
---- of Miles Weatherhill, the Young Weaver, and his Sweetheart,
Sarah Bell 214
Trial and Sentence of Miss Constance Kent 215
---- of Forward, for the Murder of Three Children and his Wife 216
Execution of the Five Pirates of the Flowery Land 217
Condemnation and Execution of Leigh for the Murder at Brighton 218
Barbarous Murder of a Child by a Schoolmistress 219
Farewell to the World of E. Bishop, under Sentence of Death, for
the Murder of Alfred Cartwright 220
Lamentations of J. Mapp under Sentence of Death in Shrewsbury Gaol 221
Lamentations of H. Lingley, Sentenced to Death for Murder
“For that cruel murder he’s doomed to die
On Norwich fatal sad gallows high.” 222
Trial, Confession and Execution of Alice Holt, for the Wicked
Murder of her own Mother 223
Cruel and Inhuman Murder of a little Boy by his Father 224
Lamentation and Confession of J. E. Jeffery, of Bristol
“I am doomed to die, my glass is run,
For the murder of my darling son.” 225
Murder of a Wife near Hastings 226
Lamentation of John Fletcher and Ann Lawrence, who now lie under
Sentence of Death at Maidstone Gaol 227
Execution of Michael Barrett for the Wilful Murder of Sarah Jane
Hodgkinson, one of the Sufferers of the Clerkenwell Explosion 228
---- of Allen, Gould, and Larkins, for the Murder of Sergeant
Brett 229
The Last Moments and Confession of Wm. Sheward 230
Execution of John Devine, for the Murder of Joseph Duck at
Marylebone 231
---- of Martin Brown, for the Diabolical Murder on Newmarket Hill,
near Lewes 232
---- of A. Mackay, for the Murder of Mrs. Grossmith 233
Shocking Murder of a Wife and Six Children 234
Execution of John Gregson, for the Murder of his Wife at Liverpool 235
---- of F. Hinson, for the Murder of Maria Death 236
---- of J. Rutterford, at Bury St. Edmunds, for the Murder of
J. Hight 237
Blank Leaves for mounting other Examples of “GALLOWS LITERATURE”
A COLLECTION
OF
“COCKS,” OR “CATCHPENNIES.”
“The common people are to be caught by the ears as one catches a pot by
the handle.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
DIVISION I.
A COLLECTION OF “COCKS,” OR “CATCHPENNIES,” STREET DROLLERIES, SQUIBS,
HISTORIES, COMIC TALES IN PROSE AND VERSE.
“COCKS--fictitious narratives, in verse or prose, of murders, fires,
and terrible accidents, sold in the streets as true accounts. The
man who hawks them, a patterer, often changes the scene of the
awful event to suit the taste of the neighbourhood he is trying to
delude. Possibly a corruption of COOK, a cooked statement, or, as a
correspondent suggests, the COCK LANE ghost may have given rise to
the term. This had a great run, and was a rich harvest to the running
stationers.”--HOTTEN’S SLANG DICTIONARY.
“Few of the residents in London--but chiefly those in the quieter
streets,” says Mr. Henry Mayhew, in his exceedingly amusing work
of “London Labour and the London Poor,”--“have not been aroused,
and most frequently in the evening, by a hurly-burly on each side
of the street. An attentive listening will not lead any one to an
accurate knowledge of what the clamour is about. It is from a ‘mob’
or ‘school’ of running patterers, and consists of two, three, or
four men. All these men state that the greater the noise they make,
the better is the chance of sale, and better still when the noise is
on each side of the street, for it appears as if the vendors were
proclaiming such interesting or important intelligence, that they
were vieing with one another who should supply the demand which must
ensue. It is not possible to ascertain with any creditude _what_ the
patterers are so anxious to sell, for only a few leading words are
audible, as ‘Horrible,’ ‘Dreadful,’ ‘Murder,’ ‘One penny,’ ‘Love,’ ‘One
penny,’ ‘Mysterious,’ ‘Seduction,’ ‘Former crimes,’ ‘Nine children,’
‘Coal-cellar,’ ‘Pool of blood,’ ‘One penny,’ and the like, can only
be caught by the ear, and there is no announcement of anything like
‘particulars.’ The running patterers describe, or profess to describe,
the contents of their papers as they go along, and they seldom or never
stand still. They usually deal in murders, seductions, crim.-cons.,
explosions, alarming accidents, ‘assassinations,’ deaths of public
characters, duels, and love-letters. But popular, or notorious murders
are the ‘great goes.’ The running patterer cares less than any
other street-sellers for bad weather, for if he ‘work’ on a wet and
gloomy evening, and if the work be ‘A COCK,’--which is, a fictitious
statement,--there is less chance of anyone detecting the _ruse_.
Among the old stereotyped ‘COCKS’ are love-letter. One is well known
as a “Married Man caught in a Trap.” And being in a dialogue and an
epistolary form, subserves any purpose: as the ‘Love-Letters,’ that
have passed between Mr. Smith, the butcher, baker, grocer, draper,
&c.--‘the decoyer of female innocence’--and Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Jones, or
Mrs. Robinson, or Miss A--, B--, or C--, not 100 yards off--‘And the
very image of his father,’ &c., &c.--and can be fitted to any real or
pretended local scandal.
When the patterer visits the country, he is accompanied by a mate,
and the “copy of werses” is then announced as being written by an
“underpaid curate” within a day’s walk. “It tells mostly, sir,” said
one man; “for its a blessing to us that there always is a journeyman
parson what the people knows, and what the patter fits.” Sometimes the
poetry is attributed to a sister of mercy, or to a popular poetess;
very frequently, by the patterers who best understand the labouring
classes, to Miss Eliza Cook. Sometimes the verses are written by
a “sympathising gent” in that parish, “but his name wasn’t to be
mentioned, or any nobleman or gentleman,” whose name is before the
public in connection with any recent event, or an assumed account of “A
Battle between Two Ladies of Fortune.” The patterers have only to stick
a picture in their hat to attract attention, and to make all the noise
they can.
Occasionally, the running patterer transmigrates into a standing
one, betaking himself to “board work,” as it is termed in street
technology, and stopping at the corners of thoroughfares with a large
pictorial placard raised upon a pole, and glowing with highly-coloured
exaggerations of the interesting terrors of the pamphlet he has for
sale.
When there are no “popular murders” the standing patterer orders of
the artist a new and startling “cock-board” and sells his books or
pamphlets, the titles of some of which are fully set forth and well
displayed; for example: “Horrible murder and mutilation of Lucy Game,
aged 15, by her cruel brother, William Game, aged 10, of Westmill,
Hertfordshire. His committal and confession, with a copy of a letter
sent to his affectionate parents.” “Full particulars of the poisonings
in Essex,--the whole family poisoned by the female servant. Confession
of her guilt.--Was seduced by her master.--Revenged herself on the
family.” Another is--“Founded on facts--The Whitby Tragedy, or the
Gambler’s Fate, containing the lives of Joseph Carr, aged 21, and his
sweetheart, Maria Leslie, aged 18, who were found dead, lying by each
other on the morning of the 23rd of May. Maria was on her road to town
to buy some ribbon and other things for her wedding day, when her
lover, in a state of intoxication, fired at her, then run to rob his
prey, but finding it was his sweetheart, reloaded his Gun, placed the
Muzzle to his Mouth, and blew out his Brains, all through the cursed
Cards and Drink. With an affectionate copy of verses.”
A popular street-book for “board work” is entitled “Horrible Rape and
Murder!!! The affecting case of Mary Ashford, a beautiful young virgin,
who was diabolically Ravished, Murdered, and thrown into a Pit, as she
was returning from a Dance, including the Trial of Abraham Thornton
for the Wilful Murder of the said Mary Ashford; with the whole of the
Evidence, Charges to the Jury, &c., with a Correct Plan of the Spot
where the Rape and Murder were Committed.”
This “street-book” is founded on a fact, and, in reality, gives the
salient points of a memorable circumstance which took place in 1817,
when Abraham Thornton was charged at the Warwick Assizes, before
Mr. Justice Holroyd, for the murder and violation of Mary Ashford,
at Erdington, near Birmingham. The prisoner was found--after a
consultation of the jury of five minutes--Not Guilty, to the utmost
surprise and disappointment of all persons assembled. The second
charge of committing a rape on the body of the said Mary Ashford was
abandoned by the prosecution. The case created the greatest possible
sensation at the time, and the trial and subsequent appeal were printed
and published in a separate form, and occupies 120 pages in double
columns, “with a correct plan of the spot where the rape and murder
were committed, and a portrait of Thornton drawn and engraved by G.
Cruikshank.”
The acquittal of Thornton in the atrocious rape and murder of Mary
Ashford excited the most undisguised feelings of disappointment in
all classes of persons throughout the kingdom, and various provincial
newspapers began to canvass the subject with vigour, freedom, and
research. This aroused most of the London papers, and the _Independent
Whig_ on Sunday, August 17th after fully commenting on the case, cited
several instances where individuals, who, after having been arraigned
under the charge of murder and acquitted, were tried a second time
for the same offence, in consequence of an appeal by the next of kin
of the deceased against the verdict of the jury, and wound up their
remarks by that,--“If ever there was a case of brutality, violation
and murder, that had greater claims upon the sympathy of the world
than another, and demands a second trial, we think it is exhibited in
that of the unfortunate Mary Ashford.” This gave the “key-note,” a
very large section of the press adopted the same view of the case, and
a subscription was immediately set on foot--Mary’s friends being in
indigent circumstances--to defray the necessary expenses. And Abraham
Thornton was apprehended a second time, on a Writ of Appeal, for the
murder of Mary Ashford, which excited an interest in the public mind
altogether unprecedented--an interest that was heightened by the
unusual recurrence of the obsolete proceedings necessary in the case by
the Saxon Writ of Appeal, together with the staggering fact of Thornton
having challenged his appellant--William, the eldest brother of the
deceased Mary Ashford--to a solemn trial by battle, and avowing himself
ready to defend his innocence with his body.
The challenge was formally given by throwing down a glove upon the
floor of the Court of King’s Bench, whence the case had been removed
by “Writ of Habeas Corpus,” to be heard before Lord Ellenborough. But
the combat did not take place, and the prisoner escaped. An Act of
Parliament was then passed abolishing the trial by battle in any suit,
as a mode unfit to be used.
Mary Ashford was buried in the Churchyard of Sutton Colefield, and over
her remains is placed a stone with the following inscription, written
by the Rev. Luke Booker:--
“As a warning to female virtue, and a humble
Monument to female chastity,
This stone marks the grave of
MARY ASHFORD,
Who, in the 20th year of her age,
Having incautiously repaired to a
Scene of amusement, without proper protection,
Was brutally violated and murdered
On the 27th of October, 1817.”
The artist who paints the patterers’ boards, must address his art
plainly to the eye of the spectator. He must use the most striking
colours, be profuse in the application of scarlet, light blue,
orange--not yellow--that not being a good candle-light colour--and must
leave nothing to the imagination. Perspective and back-grounds are
things but of minor consideration, everything must be sacrificed for
effect. These paintings are in water colours, and are rubbed over with
a solution of gum-resin to protect them from the influence of rainy
weather.
The charge of the popular street-artist for the painting of a board
is 2s. or 3s. 6d., according to the simplicity or elaborateness of
the details; the board itself is provided by the artist’s employer.
The demand for this peculiar branch of street art is very irregular,
depending entirely upon whether there has or has not been perpetrated
any act of atrocity, which has rivetted, as it is called, the public
attention. And so great is the uncertainty felt by the street-folk
whether “the most beautiful murder will take or not,” that it is rarely
the patterer will order, or the artist will speculate, in anticipation
of a demand, upon preparing the painting of any event, until satisfied
that it has become “popular.” A deed of more than usual daring, deceit,
or mystery, may be at once hailed by those connected with murder-patter
as “one that will do,” and some speculation maybe ventured upon, as it
was in such cases as Greenacre, Rush, Tawell, and the Mannings, but
these are merely exceptional, so uncertain, it appears, is all that
depends, without intrinsic merit, on mere popular applause.
It is stated that Catnach cleared over £500 by Weare’s murder and
Thurtell’s trial and execution, and was so loth to leave it, that when
a wag put him up to a joke, and showed him how he might set the thing
a-going again, he could not withstand it, so about a fortnight after
Thurtell had been hanged “Jemmy” brought out a startling broad-sheet,
headed “WE ARE ALIVE AGAIN!” He put so little space between the two
words “we” and “are,” that it looked at first sight like “WEARE.” Many
thousands were bought by the ignorant and gullible public, but those
who did not like the trick called it a “CATCHPENNY,” and this gave rise
to this peculiar term, which ever afterwards stuck to the issues of the
“Seven Dials Press.”
For the use of the first two wood cuts in our collection of “Cocks”
and “Catchpennies” we are indebted to the kindness of Messrs. Charles
Griffin and Co., of Stationers’ Hall Court, the present proprietors
of Mayhew’s _London Labour and the London Poor_--a work which, of all
others, gives by far the best description of LONDON STREET-FOLK;
and is of itself a complete cyclopædia of the condition and earnings
of--those that _will_ work, those that _cannot_ work, and those that
_will not_ work. We had intended to have used the originals of “Jemmy”
Catnach, but Mr. W. S. Fortey, his successor, writes to inform us that,
after a lengthened and active service, the cuts in question were worked
and worked until they fell to pieces.
With these remarks we now introduce our readers to a genuine Catnachian
“Cock,” and one that is said to have “fought well in its day,”
entitled, “Horrid Murder Committed by a Young Man on a Young Woman.”
[Illustration]
HORRID MURDER, Committed by a young Man on a young Woman.
George Caddell became acquainted with Miss Price and a degree of
intimacy subsisted between them, and Miss Price, degraded as she was
by the unfortunate step she had taken, still thought herself an equal
match for one of Mr. Caddell’s rank of life. As pregnancy was shortly
the result of their intimacy, she repeatedly urged him to marry her,
but he resisted her importunities for a considerable time. At length
she heard of his paying his addresses to Miss Dean, and threatened, in
case of his non-compliance, to put an end to all his prospects with
that young lady, by discovering everything that had passed between
them. Hereupon he formed a horrid resolution of murdering her, for he
could neither bear the thought of forfeiting the esteem of a woman who
he loved, nor of marrying one who had been as condescending to another
as to himself. So he called on Miss Price on a Saturday and requesting
her to walk with him in the fields on the following day, in order to
arrange a plan for their intended marriage. Miss Price met him at the
time appointed, on the road leading to Burton, at a house known by the
name of “The Nag’s Head.” Having accompanied her supposed lover into
the fields, and walked about till towards evening, they sat down under
a hedge, where, after a little conversation, Caddell suddenly pulled
out a knife and cut her throat, and made his escape, but not before
he had waited till she was dead. In the distraction of his mind he
left behind him the knife with which he had perpetrated the deed, and
his case of instruments. On the following morning, Miss Price being
found murdered in the field, great numbers went to take a view of the
body, among whom was the woman of the house where she lodged, who
recollected that she said she was going to walk with Mr. Caddell, on
which the instruments were examined and sworn to have belonged to him.
He was accordingly taken into custody.
J. Catnach, Printer, Monmouth Court.
CRUEL AND INHUMAN MURDER Committed upon the body of Captain Lawson.
[Illustration]
It is with surprise we have learned that this neighbourhood for a
length of time, was amazingly alarmed this day, by a crowd of people
carrying the body of Mr James Lawson to a doctor, while streams
of blood besmeared the way in such a manner, that cries of murder
re-echoed the sound of numerous voices. It appears that the cause of
alarm, originated through a courtship attended with a solemn promise
of marriage, between him and Miss Lucy Gurd, a handsome young lady
of refined feelings, with the intercourse of a superior enlightened
mind, who lived with her aunt, who spared neither pain, nor cost,
to improve the talents of Miss G. these seven years past, since the
death of her mother in Ludgate Hill, London, and bore a most excellent
character, until she got entangled by the deluding allurements of Mr
L., who after they mutually agreed and appointed the nuptial day, not
only violated his promise, (on account of her fortune being small,)
but boasted thro’ the neighbourhood of the unbecoming manner he had
triumphed over her virtue (which left her in a languishing situation
those six months past) while he chanted his eloquence to another young
lady, of a stamp more adequate to a covetous mind, (namely of a great
fortune) who took such a deep impression in his heart, that he advanced
the most energetic gallantry, and obtained her consent, got the banns
published in London, and on the point of getting married to her, with
a rapturous prospect of holding a rural wedding, yet we find that the
intended bride had learned that Miss Gurd held certain promissory
letters of his, and that she determined to enter an action against
him for a breach of promise, which moved, clouded and eclipsed over
the variable Mr Lawson, who knew that Miss Gurd had letters of his,
sufficient to substantiate her claim in a Court of Law. However, he was
determined to remove that obstacle, at all events, which was not likely
to diminish the only idol which the twofold miscreant so faithfully
worshipped--namely, gold and that nothing should prevent his intended
wedding, but it appears, when he comes to traverse his imagination,
that two unexpected obstacles greatly embarrassed his proceedings. He
demanded from her his letters at the peril of her life, which Miss G.
like a distinguished young lady, refused, and prepared herself with
unequal fortitude, and after stating to him the consequences of his
unmanly conduct she cautiously ordered him to quit the premises, where
to confirm his ambition (which crowned his reward) he readily attempted
to get near her trunk, through which a sturdy scuffle ensued, and while
she screamed for assistance, he attempted to commit an outrageous
violation on her person, when to protect her virtue, she drew a large
carving knife, and stabbed him under the left breast (which quickly
brought him to subjection), his vehement cries alarmed the neighbours,
who came to her assistance, and found them both in a contest at the
door, while she thrusted him out in a gore of blood, which exhibited
a scene of such momentary confusion, that the most anxious conjecture
was unable to draw the slightest idea on the wanton provocation, yet
it appears that though the skillful physicians succeeded in stopping
the blood, that they can form but little hopes of his recovery, as they
are doubtful as to the knife having separated an artery, and should
thus prove to be the case, they are decidedly of opinion, that it
will put a certain period to his existence, which leaves the intended
bride to bewail her disappointment, while the valiant victress was
forced to submit to judicial decorum in the 19th year of her age, where
sufficient sponsors voluntary offered to join her recognisance, to
await the issue. The whole of her evidence being bound to appear on
her final trial (which will gratify the curious where we expect the
judge of equity will give an electrical oration, on amorous gallantry,
passionate affection, breach of promises, &c., when Cupid’s private
Ambassadors, or the precious Love Letters will appear unmasked at
Chelmsford ensuing Assizes.--_Epping Telegraph._
J. Catnach, Printer, Monmouth Court, Seven Dials.
The Life, Trial, Execution, Lamentation, and Letter written by the
unfortunate man James Ward,
[Illustration]
Aged 25, who was hung in front of the Gaol,
_For the Wilful Murder he committed on the body of his Wife, near
Edminton_.
TRIAL.
At an early hour on the morning of the trial, the court was crowded to
excess, the Judge taking his seat at nine o’clock. The Prisoner, on
being placed at the bar, pleaded ‘Not Guilty’ in a firm tone of voice.
The trial lasted many hours, when, having been found ‘GUILTY,’ the
learned Judge addressed the prisoner as follows:--
“Prisoner, you have been found guilty of a most cold-blooded murder, a
more deliberate murder I never heard of. You and your wife had been to
a neighbouring town, and were returning home, when you did it. She was
found in a ditch. I cannot hold out the slightest hope of mercy towards
you in this case.” During this address the whole court was melted into
tears. His Lordship then put on the black cap and passed the sentence
as usual, holding out no hope of mercy to the prisoner.
Letter written after his Condemnation.
Condemned Cell.
Dear Sister,
When you receive this you will see that I am condemned to die;
my Father and Mother are coming to take their last farewell,
and I should very much liked to have seen you, but knowing that
you are on the eve of bringing into the world another to your
family, I beg that you will refrain from coming; if that you do
serious may be the consequences, therefore, dear Sister, do not
attempt to come. I hope that no one will upbraid you for what
I have done; so may God bless you and yours; farewell! dear
sister for ever.
J WARDE
EXECUTION.
The Execution of the above prisoner took place early this morning at
eight o’clock, the people flocking to the scene at an early hour. As
the period of the wretched man’s departure drew near, the chaplain
became anxious to obtain from him a confession of the justice of the
sentence. He acknowledged the justice of his sentence, and said he
was not fit to live, and that he was afraid to die, but he prayed
to the Lord for forgiveness, and hoped through the merits of his
Saviour that his prayer would be heard. Having received the sacrament,
the executioner was not long in performing his office. The solemn
procession moved towards the place of execution, the chaplain repeating
the confession words, “In the midst of life we are in death.” Upon
ascending the platform he appeared to tremble very much. The cap being
drawn over his eyes and the signal given, the wretched man was launched
into eternity. He died almost without a struggle. After the body had
hanged the usual time it was cut down and buried according to the
sentence, in the gaol.
LAMENTATION.
Come all you feeling hearted christians, wherever you may be,
Attention give to these few lines, and listen unto me;
Its of this cruel murder, to you I will unfold,
The bare recital of the same will make your blood run cold.
Confined within a lonely cell, with sorrow I am opprest,
The very thoughts of what I’ve done deprives me of rest;
“Within this dark and gloomy cell in the county Gaol I lie,
For murder of my dear wife I am condemned to die.
For four long years I’d married been, I always lov’d her well,
Till at length I was overlooked, oh shame for me to tell;
By Satan sure I was beguiled, he led me quite astray,
Unto another I gave way on that sad unlucky day.
I well deserve my wretched fate, no one can pity me,
To think that I in cold blood could take the life away;
I took a stake out of the hedge and hit on the head,
My cruel blows I did repeat until she were dead.
I dragged the body from the stile to a ditch running by,
I quite forgot there’s One above with an all-seeing eye,
Who always brings such deeds to light, as you so plainly see,
I questioned was about it and took immediately.
The body’s found, the inquest held, to prison I was sent,
With shame I do confess my sin, with grief I do repent;
And when my trial did come on, I was condemned to die,
An awful death in public scorn, upon the gallows high.
While in my lonely cell I lie, the time draws on apace,
The dreadful deeds that I have done appear before my face;
While lying on my dreadful couch those horrid visions rise,
The ghastly form of my dear wife appears before my eyes.
Oh may my end a warning be now unto all mankind,
And think of my unhappy fate and bear me in your mind;
Whether you are rich or poor, your wives and children love,
So God will fill your fleeting days with blessings from above.
Rocliff, Printer, Old Gravel Lane, London.
SHOCKING RAPE AND MURDER OF TWO LOVERS.
[Illustration]
Showing how John Hedges, a farmer’s son, committed a rape upon Jane
Williams, and afterwards Murdered her and her lover, William Edwards,
in a field near Paxton.
This is a most revolting Murder. It appears Jane Williams was keeping
company, and was shortly to be married to William Edwards, who was in
the employment of Farmer Hodges. For some time a jealousy existed in
John Hodges, who made vile proposals to the young girl, who although
of poor parents was strictly virtuous. The girl’s father also worked
on farmer Hodges’s estate. On Thursday last she was sent to the farm
to obtain some things for her mother, who was ill; it was 9 o’clock
in the evening when she set out, a mile from the farm. Going across
the fields she was met by the farmer’s son, who made vile proposals to
her, which she not consenting to, he threw her down, and accomplished
his vile purpose. In the meantime her lover had been to her house, and
finding she was gone to the farm, went to meet her. He found her in
the field crying, and John Hodges standing over her with a bill-hook,
saying he would kill her if she ever told. No one can tell the feelings
of the lover, William Edwards. He rushed forward, when Hodges, with the
hook, cut the legs clean from his body, and with it killed the poor
girl, and then run off. Her father finding she did not return, went to
look for her; when the awful deeds were discovered. Edwards was still
alive, but died shortly afterwards from loss of blood, after giving his
testimony to the magistrates. The farmer’s son was apprehended, and has
been examined and committed to take his trial at the next Assizes.
Thousands of persons followed the unfortunate lovers to the grave,
where they were buried together.
Copy of Verses.
Jane Williams had a lover true
And Edwards was his name,
Whose visits to her father’s house,
Had welcome now became.
In marriage soon they would be bound,
A loving man and wife,
But John Hodges, a farmer’s son,
With jealousy was rife.
One night he met her in the field,
And vile proposals made;
How can I do this wicked thing;
Young Jane then weeping said.
He quickly threw her on the ground,
He seized her by surprise,
And did accomplish his foul act,
Despite her tears and cries.
Her lover passing by that way,
Discovered her in tears,
And when he found what had been done
He pulled the monster’s ears.
Young Hodges with the bill-hook,
Then cut young Edwards down:
And by one fatal blow he felled
Jane Williams on the ground.
There side by side the lovers lay
Weltering in their blood:
Young Jane was dead, her lover lived,
Though ebb’d away life’s flood.
Old Williams sought his daughter dear,
When awful to relate,
He found her lifeless body there,
Her lover’s dreadful fate.
Now in one grave they both do lie,
These lovers firm and true,
Who by a cruel man were slain,
Who’ll soon receive his due.
In prison now he is confined,
To answer for the crime.
Two lovers that he murdered,
Cut off when in their prime.
J. Catnach, Printer, Monmouth Court.
FULL PARTICULARS OF THIS DREADFUL MURDER.
A scene of bloodshed of the deepest dye has been committed in this
neighbourhood, which has caused a painful and alarming sensation among
all classes in this place, in consequence of its being committed by an
individual that is well known to most of the inhabitants who are going
in great numbers to the fatal spot where the unfortunate and ill-fated
victim has met with this melancholy and dreadful end.
On the news arriving at our office, we at once dispatched our reporter
to the spot, and on his arrival he found the place surrounded by men,
women, and children, gathered around where the vital spark had fled,
which was never to be regained on the face of this earth. Deep was the
conversation among the accumulated persons, as to how a fellow creature
could be guilty of committing such a revolting and diabolical act upon
one, who, it appears, was much respected in this neighbourhood.
The reporter states that on the police authorities arriving at the
place, they had some difficulty in preserving order; but after a
short lapse of time this was accomplished. They then proceeded to the
spot where the lifeless corpse laid, and took possession of the same,
and which presented one of the most awful spectacles that has been
witnessed for many years.
What could have been the motive for such a cold-blooded and wanton
murder being committed we are at a loss to conceive; without it was
in consequence of some disagreement having taken place between the
unfortunate victims and their assailants, and then ending in the
depriving their fellow-creatures of life, which we are forbidden,
according to the commandments, to take away; but this seems to be
entirely violated in many instances by our dissipated and irregular
habits which tends to the committal of such serious things, and through
disobeying the scriptural advice brings the degraded creatures to an
untimely end. According to the Scriptures, “He that sheddeth man’s
blood, by man shall his blood be shed,” which we entirely agree with in
these instances, and fully acknowledge the just sentence that is often
obliged to be carried into effect; and certainly must say, that were it
not for the rigidness of those laws, many of us would not be able to
proceed on our journey at heart. So, therefore, we are in duty bound
to call upon those laws being fully acted up to, for it is our opinion
that those crimes are very seldom committed without there is some
disregard or ill feeling towards their unfortunate victims, and thereby
end their days in a dreadful manner.
The unfortunate persons being so well known and so much respected,
every one feels anxious to know all particulars, and it is the constant
enquiry amongst them to know if there is any one apprehended for the
murder, or if there is anything more known as to lead to the suspicion
who it has been committed by, all being very desirous to hear of the
perpetrators of this diabolical and horrid deed. We feel much for
the family, who are thrown into the greatest affliction through this
dreadful circumstance, and which has cast a gloom over the circle of
friends in which they moved.
As a member of society, there will be no one that we know of who will
be more missed; one who was often known to relieve the wants of his
fellow creatures as far as his circumstances would permit, and whose
society was courted by all. As a member, of the family to which they
belonged, none will be more deeply regretted, but those who are now
remaining will feel the loss and deplore the lamentable death of their
respected and worthy friends.--Just as we are going to press, we
have received information from our reporter, that something has been
elicited from a party that has thrown a light on this subject, and
which has led to the apprehension of one of the principal offenders,
and who, if proved guilty, will, we hope, meet with that punishment due
to his fearful crime.
London: J. Lucksway, Printer and Publisher, High Street, Westminster.
THE COMMITTAL OF W. THOMPSON,
To the County Gaol at Oxford for the
MURDER OF HIS WIFE AND THREE CHILDREN,
On the 12th instant.
This morning, the 12th inst., the neighbourhood of Queen-st., Banbury,
was thrown into a state of excitement at hearing the cries of murder
between the hours of 12 and 1, at the house of Wm. Thompson. Several
of the neighbours arose from their beds and knocked at, and tried the
door, but all was silent, when Sarah Cope said, some efforts must be
made to enter, and two Policemen were quickly on the spot, and about 2
o’clock they forced the door open, when a most awful sight presented
itself. The wife lay weltering in her blood and with her head literally
knocked to pieces, and the prisoner, who was drunk, was quickly
apprehended. Up stairs the two youngest were found lying in a pool of
blood on the chamber floor, and the eldest boy, Thomas, four years old,
was found a lifeless corpse on the bed, and the clothes covered with
blood.
Two surgeons pronounced life to be extinct. An inquest was held at the
Blue Boar, and after a post-mortem examination of the bodies, and the
whole of the Evidence heard by the Jury, a Verdict of Wilful Murder was
returned against William Thompson.
The Prisoner was calm during the whole of the proceedings, and did
not attempt to deny his guilt. Since his committal he has made the
following Confession.
THE CONFESSION.
On the 12th ultimo, I left my wife and family and went to the house of
Sarah Potts, and during the day when we were drinking, she asked me to
leave my family and live with her; I gave her no decisive answer at
that time. At midnight I returned home and found my wife and children
were gone to bed, but she got up and let me in without speaking an
angry word; but I got hold of an iron bar and struck her a fatal
blow on the head, and repeated the blows until she was dead. I then
proceeded to the bed-room, where the children were. My eldest son,
Thomas, four years of age, begged for mercy, but I was deaf to his
cries and tears; I then raised the bar of iron and struck him three
times on the head; the two youngest are twins, I beat their heads
against the chamber floor, and I hope the Lord will forgive me.
A COPY OF VERSES.
All you that have got feeling hearts, I pray you now attend,
To these few lines so sad and true, a solemn silence lend,
It is of a cruel murder, to you I will unfold--
The bare recital of the tale, must make your blood run cold.
’Twas in the town of Banbury, all in fair Oxfordshire,
One William Thomson did reside, by trade a Carpenter,
He had a kind and loving wife, likewise three children dear,
Who victims fell unto his rage, as shortly you may hear,
The one it was a little boy, just turned two years old,
The other two were lovely boys, the truth I now unfold,
Long time he kept his family, in credit and renown,
Until he was led astray, by a woman on the town--
One Sarah Potts it was her name, who first did him betray,
And from his wife and children, caused him to go astray,
At rest from her he ne’er could be, by day nor yet by night,
Until her false deluding tongue, had proved his ruin quite.
It was on the 12th day of the month, unto her house he went
A drinking, for to spend the day, it was his chief intent;
She says, come leave your house and home, your family also,
And to some other country, along with you I’ll go.
About the hour of twelve at noon, he homeward did repair,
And found his poor deluded wife, waiting his love to share--
One angry word she never spoke, though he unkind had been
But with the meekness of a lamb, she rose to let him in.
Soon as the house he entered, he straightway locked the door,
Soon seized upon an iron bar, and threw her on the floor;
With which he beat her on the head, as she lay on the ground,
Her brains most awful for to view, lay scattered all around.
Oh then he seized those lovly twins, whilst sleeping on the bed,
Now with your mother you shall die, the wretched father said--
He seized them by their little legs, and dashed them on the floor,
And soon their tender lives were gone, alas! to be no more.
The eldest child seeing what was done, upon his knees did rise,
And loud for mercy he did call, whilst tears were in his eyes--
Oh, Dadda dear, oh, Dadda dear, and asked me for a kiss,
Why are you going to murder me, what have I done amiss?
Again for mercy he did plead whilst pearly tears did fall,
The cruel father’s hardened heart, was deaf unto his call--
Again took up the iron bar, and beat him on the head,
And soon the blood of the dear boy, was spilt upon the bed.
It was early the next morning, before the break of day,
He by Policemen taken was, and to prison sent straightway,
Where till the Assizes he must lie, his trial for to stand,
When blood for blood will be required, by the laws of God and man.
[Smith, Printer, High Street, London.
A REMARKABLE PUNISHMENT OF MURDER.
[Illustration]
The following melancholy account was given by a very worthy man, Mr.
Thomas Marshall, a Church warden well-known and respected by all.
Some years ago, a young gentleman and lady came out of Scotland, as is
supposed, upon a matrimonial affair. As they were travelling through
the country, they were robbed and murdered, at a place called the
Winnetts, near Castleton. Their bones were found about two years ago,
by some miners who were sinking an Engine-pit at the place.
One James Ashton, of Castleton, who died about a fortnight ago, and who
was one of the murderers, was most miserably afflicted and tormented in
his conscience. He had been dying, it was thought, for ten weeks; but
could not die till he had confessed the whole affair. But when he had
done this, he died immediately.
He said, Nicholas Cock, Thomas Hall, John Bradshaw, Francis Butler, and
himself, meeting the above gentleman and lady in the Winnets, pulled
them off their horses, and dragged them into a barn belonging to one
of them, and took from them two hundred pounds. Then seizing on the
young gentleman, the young lady (whom Ashton said was the fairest
woman he ever saw) entreated them, in the most piteous manner, not to
kill him, as she was the cause of his coming into that country. But,
notwithstanding all her intreaties, they cut his throat from ear to
ear! They then seized the young lady herself, and, though she entreated
them, on her knees, to spare her life, and turn her out naked! yet one
of the wretches drove a Miner’s pick into her head, when she dropped
down dead at his feet. Having thus dispatched them both, they left
their bodies in the barn, and went away with their booty.
At night they returned to the barn, in order to take them away; but
they were so terrified with a frightful noise that they durst not move
them: and so it was the second night. But the third night, Ashton said
it was only the Devil, who would not hurt him; so they took the bodies
away and buried them.
They then divided the money: and as Ashton was a coal carrier to a
Smelt Mill, on the Sheffield Road, he bought horses with his share; but
they all died in a little time. Nicholas Cock fell from a precipice,
near the place where they had committed the murder, and was killed.
Thomas Hall hanged himself. John Bradshaw was walking near the place
where they had buried the bodies, when a stone fell from the hill and
killed him on the spot, to the astonishment of every one who knew
it. Francis Butler, attempted many times to hang himself, but was
prevented; however, he went mad, and died in a most miserable manner.
Thus, though they escaped the hand of human justice (which seldom
happens in such a case), yet the Invisible Hand found them out, even in
this world. How true then it is, that He art about our path, and about
our bed, and spiest out all our ways!
Evans, Printer, Long Lane.
THE LIFE, TRIAL, CHARACTER, AND CONFESSION OF The Man that was Hanged
IN FRONT OF NEWGATE, AND WHO IS NOW ALIVE!
WITH FULL PARTICULARS OF THE RESUSCITATED.
[Illustration]
“There are but two classes of persons in the world--those who are
hanged, and those who are not hanged; and it has been my lot to belong
to the former.”
There are few men, perhaps, who have not a hundred times in the course
of their life, felt a curiosity to know what their sensations would
be if they were compelled to lay life down. The very impossibility,
in all ordinary cases, of obtaining any approach to this knowledge,
is an incessant spur pressing on the fancy in its endeavours to
arrive at it. Thus poets and painters have ever made the estate of
a man condemned to die one of their favourite themes of comment or
description. Footboys and prentices hang themselves almost every other
day, conclusively--missing their arrangement for slipping the knot
half way--out of a seeming instinct to try the secrets of that fate,
which--less in jest than in earnest--they feel an inward monition may
become their own. And thousand of men, in early life, are uneasy until
they have mounted a breach, or fought a duel, merely because they wish
to know, experimentally, that their nerves are capable of carrying them
through that peculiar ordeal.
Now _I_ am in a situation to speak from experience, upon that very
interesting question--the sensations attendant upon a passage from life
to death. I have been HANGED, and am ALIVE--perhaps there are no three
other men at this moment, in Europe, who can make the same declaration.
Before this statement meets the public eye, I shall have quitted
England for ever; therefore I have no advantage to gain from its
publication. And, for the vanity of knowing, when I shall be a
sojourner in a far country, that my name--for good or ill--is talked
about in this,--such fame would scarcely do even my pride much good,
when I dare not lay claim to its identity, But the cause which
excites me to write is this--My greatest pleasure, through life, has
been the perusal of any extraordinary narratives of fact. An account
of a shipwreck in which hundreds have perished; of a plague which
has depopulated towns or cities; anecdotes and inquiries connected
with the regulations of prisons, hospitals, or lunatic receptacles;
nay, the very police reports of a common newspaper--as relative to
matters of reality, have always excited a degree of interest in my
mind, which cannot be produced by the best-invented tale of fiction.
Because I believe, therefore, that to persons of a temper like my
own, the reading of that which I have to relate will afford very high
gratification;--and because I know also, that what I describe can do
mischief to no one, while it may prevent the symptoms and details
of a very rare consummation from being lost; for these reasons I am
desirous, as far as a very limited education will permit me, to write a
plain history of the strange fortunes and miseries to which, during the
last twelve months, I have been subjected.
I have stated already, that I have _been_ hanged and _am_ alive. I
can gain nothing now by misrepresentation--I was GUILTY of the act
for which I suffered. There are individuals of respectability whom
my conduct already has disgraced, and I will not revive their shame
and grief by publishing my name. But it stands in the list of capital
convictions in the Old Bailey Calendar for the Winter Sessions of 18--
Hodges, Printer (from the late J. Pitt’s) Wholesale Toy Warehouse, 31,
Dudley Street, 7 Dials.
THE LIVERPOOL TRAGEDY.
Showing how a Father and Mother barbarously Murdered their own Son.
[Illustration]
A few days ago a sea-faring man, who had just returned to England
after an absence of thirty years in the East Indies, called at a
lodging-house, in Liverpool, for sailors, and asked for supper and a
bed; the landlord and landlady were elderly people, and apparently
poor. The young man entered into conversation with them, invited them
to partake of his cheer, asked many questions about themselves and
their family, and particularly of a son who had gone to sea when a
boy, and whom they had long given over as dead. At night the landlady
shewed him to his room, and when she was leaving him he put a large
purse of gold into her hand, and desired her to take care of it till
the morning, pressed her affectionately by the hand, and bade her good
night. She returned to her husband and shewed him the accursed gold:
for its sake they mutually agreed to murder the traveller in his sleep.
In the dead of the night, when all was still, the old couple silently
creaped into the bed room of their sleeping guest, all was quiet: the
landlady approached the bedside, and then cut his throat, severed his
head from his body; the old man, upwards of seventy years of age,
holding the candle. They put a washing-tub under the bed to catch his
blood. And then ransacking the boxes of the murdered man they found
more gold, and many handsome and costly articles, the produce of the
East Indies, together, with what proved afterwards, to be a marriage
certificate.
In the morning, early, came a handsome and elegantly dressed lady and
asked, in a joyous tone, for the traveller who had arrived the night
before. The old people seemed greatly confused, but said he had risen
early and gone away. “Impossible!” said the lady, and bid them go to
his bed-room and seek him, adding, “you will be sure to know him as he
has a mole on his left arm in the shape of a strawberry. Besides, ’tis
your long lost son who has just returned from the East Indies, and I
am his wife, and the daughter of a rich planter long settled and very
wealthy. Your son has come to make you both happy in the evening of
your days, and he resolved to lodge with you one night as a stranger,
that he might see you unknown, and judge of your conduct to wayfaring
mariners.”
The old couple went up stairs to examine the corpse, and they found the
strawberry mark on its arm, and they then knew that they had murdered
their own son, they were seized with horror, and each taking a loaded
pistol blew out each other’s brains.
Printed by J. Catnach,--Sold by Marshall Bristol. Just Published--A
Variety of Children’s Books, Battledores, Lotteries, and a quantity of
popular Songs, set to Music. Cards, &c., Printed cheap.
THE MASSACRE OF THE WHOLE OF THE PASSENGERS AND PART OF THE CREW OF THE
SEA HORSE,
On her Homeward Passage from Sydney, and the Plunder of 18,000 ounces
of Gold by the Murderers.
We have just received intelligence of one of the most daring cases
of plunder and wholesale murder on the high seas that it is our duty
to make public for many years. It appears that the crew and thirteen
passengers of the ill-fated ship, the Sea Horse, some of whom had
been seeking to better their condition by toiling at the diggings of
Ballarat, Bendigo, and the several numerous diggings of the surrounding
country, whilst others had gained a respectable position in life by
mercantile and other pursuits, all returning light-hearted and elated
by their good success to the land of their birth, and to look on the
dear faces, and gladden the hearts of the dear ones they had left at
home, but whom they were doomed never to meet no more on earth. Among
the crew was a Spaniard known by the name of Digo Salvesata, and three
others, who were tempted by a love of gold to gain possession of the
valuable cargo, to do which, they conceived the horrid idea of putting
the whole of the passengers and that part of the crew who would not
join them to death. The following are the facts of this demon-like
outrage:--It appears that the Sarah Ann, of North Shields, on her
passage home, was driven by the gales into the German ocean, and it was
in sight of the white cliffs of Old England that these horrible murders
were committed. As the Sarah Ann was laying at anchor on the morning of
the 12th, at day break they saw through the fog the ill-fated vessel,
and not seeing any one on deck they hailed her, and on receiving no
answer a boat was immediately lowered, and they went on board, and on
getting below a shocking sight met their gaze, with one exception the
whole of the passengers and the remainder of the crew were in their
berths stiff and cold, with their throats cut, and otherwise dreadfully
disfigured. One poor man had a piece of dirty sheet tied tightly round
his throat, and about eight inches of it stuffed tightly into his
mouth. On this being removed, there was a large wound in the throat
four inches in extent from right to left; there were five incisors on
the right side ending in one deep one on the left. The windpipe was
cut through and the muscles of the neck on the left side; the forehead
was contused and scratched. The hair was covered with blood. On the
back part of the right hand there were several scratches. Most of the
victims were more or less mutilated. On going to the Captain’s cabin
another shocking sight presented itself, he was laying completely
hacked to pieces, his tongue was completely cut out at the root, and
his entrails strewed on the cabin floor, showing that there had been
a terrible struggle; it appears from the statement of a man who had
stowed in the hold to escape the slaughter, that the second mate, who
is one of the murderers, treated the passengers and the rest of the
crew with some grog in which some laudnum was mixed, which rendered
them senseless, and while in that helpless state murdered them in the
manner described, they afterwards went to the Captain’s cabin, who
fought bravely but was overpowered by numbers, they then took all the
gold they could find and lowered the long boat and made off with their
ill-gotten gains. The tiller of the boat has been found, so whether
they have escaped and sent the boat adrift is not known, but search is
being made after the murderers, and we hope they will soon be taken,
and meet with their just reward.
COPY OF VERSES.
You landsmen and you seamen bold,
Attention give to me,
While I a tragedy unfold,
Upon the briney sea;
In the German ocean it occurred,
Near the sight of land,
Twenty-eight fell victims
To the cursed murderers hands.
The Sea Horse it from Sydney sailed,
Bound for Old England’s shore,
With crew and thirteen passengers,
Whose fate we now deplore;
Returning home with hard earned gold,
Across the briney main,
But alas! the ones they loved at home,
They ne’er will see again.
Four of the crew they laid a plan,
The passengers to slay,
And with the gold they dearly earnt,
O’er the seas to bear away;
These murderers were led away,
All by their thirst for gold,
And their victims they did cruelly slay,
Most shocking to unfold.
In some grog they mixed some laudanum
And soon they fell asleep.
And then these wretched monsters
To their victim’s berths did creep;
Then to the Captain’s cabin,
Intent on blood did steer,
And mangled his poor body,
How dreadful for to hear.
The Sarah Ann from North Shields,
As by the facts appear,
Saw the poor ill-fated ship,
And boarded it we hear;
And found the gory victims--
How shocking for to read,
May the murderers soon be taken
And suffer for their deeds.
Walton, Printer, Mary Street, Limehouse.
FULL PARTICULARS OF THE HORRIBLE & DREADFUL GREAT FIRE IN LONDON.
[Few public calamities recorded in our annals can bear a comparison, in
point of distress, with the tremendous conflagration which reduced the
greater part of the British metropolis to ashes, in the 1666. Of this
dire catastrophe, all our histories give a general, and some of them a
detailed, account; but no relation hitherto published is so minutely
descriptive as that written at the time, and as it were on the smoking
embers of the city, by the ingenious John Evelyn; from whose memoirs we
have therefore extracted the whole narration.]
September 2. This fatal night about ten began that deplorable fire near
Fish Street, in London.
Sept. 3. The fire continuing, after dinner I took coach, with my wife
and son, and went to the bank side in Southwark, where we beheld that
dismal spectacle, the whole city in dreadful flames near the waterside;
all the houses from the bridge, all Thames street, and upwards towards
Cheapside down to the Three Cranes, were now consumed.
The fire having continued all this night (if I may call that night
which was light as day for ten miles round about, after a dreadful
manner), when conspiring with a fierce eastern wind in a very dry
season; I went on foot to the same place, and saw the whole south
part of the city burning from Cheapside to the Thames, and all along
Cornhill (for it kindled back against the wind as well as forward)
Tower street, Fenchurch street, Gracious street, and so along to
Bainard’s Castle, and was now taking hold of St. Paul’s Church, to
which the scaffolds contributed exceedingly. The conflagration was so
universal, and the people so astonished, that from the beginning, I
know not by what despondency or fate, they hardly stirred to quench it,
so that there was nothing heard or seen but crying out and lamentation,
running about like distracted creatures, without attempting to save
even their goods, such a strange consternation there was upon them,
so as it burned both in breadth and length, the Churches, Public
Halls, Exchange, Hospitals, Monuments, and ornaments, leaping after a
prodigious manner from house to house and street to street, at great
distances one from the other, for the heat with a long set of fair
and warm weather had even ignited the air and prepared the materials
to receive the fire, which devoured after a most incredible manner,
houses, furniture, and every thing. Here we saw the Thames covered
with goods floating, all the barges and boats laden with what some had
time and courage to save, as, on the other, the carts, &c., carrying
out to the fields, which for many miles were strewed with moveables of
all sorts, and tents erecting to shelter both people and what goods
they could get away. Oh the miserable and calamitous spectacle! such
as haply the world had not seen the like since the foundation of it,
nor to be outdone till the universal conflagration. All the sky was
of a fiery aspect, like the top of a burning oven, the light seen
above forty miles round about for many nights. God grant my eyes may
never behold the like, now seeing above ten thousand houses all in one
flame; the noise and cracking and thunder of the impetuous flames,
the shrieking of women and children, the hurry of people, the fall of
towers, houses, and churches, was like a hideous storm, and the air all
about so hot and inflamed that at last one was not able to approach it,
so that they were forced to stand still and let the flames burn on,
which they did for near two miles in length and one in breadth. The
clouds of smoke were dismal and reached upon computation near fifty
miles in length. Thus I left it this afternoon burning, a resemblance
of Sodom, or the last day--London was, but is no more!
H. Jones, Printer, Smith Street, London.
AN ACCOUNT OF THE FATAL THUNDERSTORM,
Which happened in these parts, and the
SINGULAR DREAM OF A YOUNG MAN,
Well known in this Neighbourhood.
On the first day of this month there was a dreadful storm of thunder
and lightning in these parts. Its most fatal effects occurred about
three miles from this town. There was a young shepherd, about
twenty-three years of age, who had always entertained a remarkable
dread of such storms; on that day, as it began to grow cloudy, his
mother would have dissuaded him from going out, but he said he must
go, as certain of his sheep absolutely required his attendance. This
was agreeable to a tenderness of temper which, from his childhood,
had been remarkable in his character. Quickly after he got into the
fields, the storm arose; he was then in an open valley of greensward,
and upon the neighbouring land there were two places of shelter equally
distant; the one a stack of beans where some men were employed in
thrashing, the other a rick of hay where nobody was. Humanly speaking,
his life depended upon the choice he made between these two places,
and he unhappily chose the rick. Quickly after, the thrashers at a
small distance saw it take fire! They immediately ran to extinguish it,
which they did without any great difficulty, as stacked hay burns but
slowly; but they found the shepherd dead! His heels were stuck up, and
his back rested against a part of the rick which had not been on fire.
On a more careful examination, they found that his coat was singed on
the right shoulder; his waistcoat did not appear to be burnt; but his
shirt was reduced to tinder, not only on the shoulder, but all over the
back. The skin under it appeared a little blistered, but the flesh not
at all torn. His right leg was blistered round the outer ankle, and
his shoe-buckle shattered almost to perfect powder. There was no wound
on any part of the body which could be thought the cause of his death.
About a month before this accident he told his mother a dream which
struck deeply upon his imagination for a considerable time. He said he
fancied himself surprised by a storm of thunder, and that he fled for
shelter to the wall of a house, when a great flash of lightning came
directly upon him, and that immediately he fancied himself strangled
for want of breath.
About three months previous to this melancholy occurrence the same
young man, who is well known in these parts, and whose name and address
we withhold out of respect to his surviving relations, dreamt that as
he sat on a fragment of St. John’s Castle, romantically situated on
the shores of Loch-Ree--one of those many ruins that are to be found
in desolated parts of this county! The scene around him was one of
age and sublimity: he felt its imposing effect and was filled with
the solemnity of its aspect! The winds were sweeping their sullen
murmurs through the broken walls of the gigantic pile; the “voice of
Time-disporting towers” fell with a sad sound upon the ear, and he
could fancy, in the pauses of the hollow blast, that he saw spectral
shapes of other days peeping from the dark passages and broken windows,
and then suddenly disappearing like night-birds, that, having wakened
too early for their dusky evening flight, shrink back aghast to
their gloomy bowers, from the offensive glare of a lingering sunset!
Melancholy and romance were in the hour, and he insensibly yielded to
their powerful influence.
As his half-closed eyes were carelessly fixed upon a little chasm in
the vaulted floor, that lay some fifty feet beneath him, he perceived,
with a surprise not unmixed with terror, that the long grass which
partly concealed it began to move with more than the wind-motion. He
thought a thin blue smoke issued from the widening aperture, and a
confused murmer of hollow voices arose. He would have fled from the
place, but his companions had, at his own request, left him to indulge
in melancholy, and had taken his boat for a short sail to some islands
farther up the lake; besides, he had no means of quitting the almost
insulated ruin, but by passing the mysterious vapour, which crossed the
only path to a strip of land that connected the basement of the castle
with the main shore. This he was determined not to do. He therefore
quietly remained in the watch-tower with mingled feelings of curiosity
and dread!
The blue mist at length disappeared--the murmur of hollow voices died
away--all was silent again save the beach-wave and the moaning of the
wind through the caverns of the ruin. He began to think he had imagined
the scene, and was just about to quit his hiding-place, when suddenly
the vapour issued again, and, thunder-struck with astonishment and
admiration, he beheld a female figure slowly rising from the vault like
a spirit from earth’s tomb on its way to immortal blessedness! she was
lightly clad--lightly enough to betray a form of beauty, half-woman,
half-child, that he had never before contemplated, even in his dreams!
It was loveliness even beyond his ideal conceptions, and seemed to be
of that age when childhood usually gives her last portion of innocence
to youth, and fearfully resigns her little charge to approaching
maturity.
She ascended, with the rapidity of a winged creature, up a curtain-wall
that shut out the northern view of the lake from the interior of the
castle, when, having gazed long and wistfully (as he thought) upon
the dim sail of his little bark in the hazy distance, she descended
with the same careless activity, to a mound of ivy and wild flowers
that sprung up spontaneously in the ruin, like sweet, but unbidden
recollections of happy days gone by in a broken heart.
THE SCARBOROUGH TRAGEDY.
Giving an Account how Susan Forster, a Farmer’s only Daughter, near
Scarborough, was seduced by Mr Robert Sanders, a Naval Officer, under
promise of Marriage. How she became Pregnant, and the wicked hardened,
and cruel Wretch appointed to meet her at a well-known retired spot,
which she unhappily did, and was basely Murdered by him, and buried
under a Tree, and of the wonderful manner in which this base Murder was
brought to light, and he was committed to Gaol.
Young virgins fair of beauty bright,
And you that are of Cupid’s fold,
Unto my tragedy give ear,
For it’s as true as e’er was told.
In Yorkshire, liv’d a virgin fair,
A farmer’s only daughter dear,
And young sea-captain did her ensnare,
Whose station was her father near.
Susannah was this maiden’s name,
The flower of all that country,
This officer a courting came,
Begging that she his love would be.
Her youthful heart to love inclin’d,
Young Cupid bent his golden bow,
And left his fatal dart behind,
Which prov’d Susannah’s overthrow.
Ofttimes at evening she would repair,
Close to the borders of the sea,
Her treach’rous love would meet her there,
The time it passed most pleasantly,
And while they walked the sea-banks over,
To mark the flowing of the tide,
He said he’d be her constant lover
And vow’d that she should be his bride.
Within the pleasant groves they walk’d,
And vallies where the lambs do play,
Sweet pleasant tales of love they talk’d,
To pass away the summer day.
My charming lovely Susan, said he,
See how the pleasant flowers spring,
The pretty birds on every tree,
With melody the groves doth ring.
I nothing want for to delight
My soul, but those sweet charms of thine,
My heart is fix’d, therefore my dear,
Like the turtle-dove let us combine,
Let me embrace my heart’s delight,
Within this pleasant bower here;
This bank of violets for our bed,
Shaded with these sweet roses fair,
She said, what can you mean, I pray,
I am a farmer’s daughter born.
What signifies my beauty bright,
A trifle, when my honour’s gone.
My parents they will me disdain,
Young virgins they will me deride,
Oh! do not prove my overthrow,
If you love me stay till your bride.
Sweet angel bright, I here do vow,
By all the powers that are divine,
I’ll ne’er forsake my dearest dear,
The girl that does my soul confine.
And if that you will me deny,
This sword shall quickly end my woe,
Then from her arms he ran straightway
In fury, out his sword he drew.
Her hands as white as lilies fair,
Most dreadfully she then did wring
She said, my death’s approaching near,
Would I pity take and comfort him
It only brings my fatal fall,
’Tis I who must receive the wound
The crimson dye forsook her cheeks,
At his feet she dropp’d upon the ground.
Thus innocence he did betray,
Full sore against her chaste desire;
True love is a celestial charm,
The flame of lust a raging fire.
But when her senses did revive,
He many vows and oaths did make,
That he’d for ever true remain,
Her company would not forsake.
Now virgins in the second part,
Observe this maiden’s fatal end,
When once your virtue is betray’d,
You’ve nothing young men will commend.
After the traitor had his will
He never did come near her more,
And from her eyes both day and night,
For his sake the crystal tears did pour,
Into a mournful valley she crossed,
Would often wander all alone,
And for the jewel she had lost
In the bower would often mourn.
Oh! that I were some pretty bird,
That I might fly to hide my shame;
O silly maid, for to believe
The fair delusions of a man.
The harmless lamb that sports and plays,
The turtle’s constant to his mate,
Nothing so wretched is as I,
To love a man that does me hate.
I will to him a letter send,
Remind him of the oaths he made
Within that shady bower, where
My tender heart he first betray’d.
Her trembling hand a letter wrote,
My dearest dear, what must I do?
Alas! what have I done, that I
Forsaken am now by you!
I could have wedded a worthy farmer,
Who little knows my misery;
I did forsake a wealthy grazier,
All for the love I bore to thee.
And now my little infant dear
Will quickly spread abroad my shame,
One line of comfort to me send,
E’er I am by your cruelty slain.
This answer he to her did send,
Your insolence amazes me,
To think that I should marry one
With whom, before, I have been free.
Indeed I’ll not a father be
Unto a bastard you shall bear,
So take no further thought of me,
No more from you pray let me hear.
When she this letter did receive,
She wrung her hands and wept full sore:
And every day she still would range,
To lament within the pleasant bower.
The faithless wretch began to think,
Her father’s rich, as I do hear,
He said, I sure shall punished be,
Soon as the story he does hear.
The devil then he did begin
To enter in his wretched mind;
Her precious life he then must have,
Thus he to act the thing did find.
He many times did watch her out,
Into the pleasant valley, where
One day he privately did go,
When he knew she was not there.
And privately he dug a grave
Underneath an oaken tree.
Then in the branches he did hide,
To act his piece of cruelty.
Poor harmless soul she nothing knew,
As usual she went there alone,
And on a bank of violets
In mournful manner sat her down.
Of his unkindness did complain;
At length the grave she did espy,
She rose indeed to view the same,
Not thinking that he was so nigh.
You gentle gods so kind, said she,
Did you this grave for me prepare?
He then descended from the tree,
Saying, strumpet now thy death is near.
O welcome, welcome, she replied,
As long as by your hand I die,
This is a pleasant marriage bed,
I’m ready, use your cruelty.
But the heavens bring to light
Thy crime, and thus let it appear,
Winter and summer on this grave,
The damask rose in bloom spring here.
Never to wither though ’tis cropped,
But when thy hand do touch the same,
Then may the bloom that minute blast
To bring to light my bitter shame.
More she’d have said, but with his sword,
He pierc’d her tender body through;
Then threw her in the silent grave,
Saying, now, there is an end of you.
He fill’d the grave up close again,
With weeds the same did overspread;
Then unconcerned, he straight went home,
Immediately went to his bed.
Her parents dear did grieve full sore, at
The loss of their young daughter,
Thinking she was stole away, as
To all their riches she was heir to.
Twelve months after this was passed,
Thousands for a truth do know,
According as she did desire,
On her grave a damask rose grew.
Many wonder’d at the same,
For in the winter it did spring,
If any one did crop the rose,
In a moment it would grow again.
The thing it blazed the country round,
And thousands went the same to see,
This miracle from heaven shew,
He ’mong the rest must curious be.
To go and see if this was true,
But when unto the plant he came,
The beauteous rose he saw in bloom,
And eagerly he cropp’d the same.
The leaves did fall from off the bush,
The rose within his hand did die,
He cried, ’tis fair Susannah’s blood,
That spring up from her fair body.
Many people that were there,
Took notice of what he did say,
They told him he’d a murder done,
He the truth confess’d without delay.
They dug and found the body there,
’Twas but this month that it was known.
Before a magistrate he went,
And now in prison lies forlorn.
Till he his punishment receives,
No doubt but he will have his due;
Young men by this a warning take,
Perform your vows whate’er ye do.
For God does find out many ways,
Such heinous sins to bring to light,
For murder’s a most horrid sin,
And hateful in his blessed sight.
TRAGIC VERSES.
Come all fair maids both far and near and listen unto me,
While unto you I do relate a dreadful Tragedy,
A deed of blood I will unfold which lately came to light,
When ’tis made known, you’ll surely own you never heard the like.
’Tis of an honest farmer’s child, a damsel fair and young,
Who was in tender years beguil’d all by a flattering tongue,
The finest lady in the land could not with her compare,
Her dimpled cheeks and rosy looks how charming sweet they were.
Crowds of admirers flocking came, to gain fair Susan’s love;
But none her favour could obtain, nor her affections move,
Till by mischance a youth she met, as fate would have it so,
Who caught her heart in Cupid’s net and prov’d her overthrow.
A naval Captain of renown, beguil’d her tender youth,
Deceit and lies he did disguise with air of seeming truth,
He prais’d her looks, her shape, her air, vow’d she should be his wife,
And thus did vilely her ensnare--then took her precious life.
When he had thus her ruin prov’d by many a solemn vow,
The very maid he vow’d to love was hateful in his view.
With bitter tears she did implore that he’d his vows fulfil;
But all in vain--she charm’d no more now he had had his will.
She wrote a letter which she thought would grieve his heart full sore,
And tenderly she him besought, to mind the vows he swore,
T’was you that did my heart trepan, which now in tears I rue--
Slighted many an honest man all for the love of you.
I wish that my young babe was born and on the nurse’s knee,
And I myself was dead and gone and the grass grown over me.
When he this letter through had read, which expos’d his villainy,
A deadly thought came in his head her butcher for to be.
With seeming kindness in his face which made poor Susan gay,
He did appoint a lonely place to meet with her next day.
The hour arriv’d, she hasten’d there to the appointment true,
Where the deceitful murderer the lovely damsel slew.
When she beheld his deadly knife she rais’d her lovely face,
Crying, Oh! spare, Oh! spare my life and leave me to disgrace,
Have pity on your unborn babe tho’ you have none for me;
Alas! a dark untimely grave, my bridal bed will be.
Her lovely face, her beauteous eyes, for mercy plead in vain,
Of no avail were tears or cries unmov’d he did remain,
He rais’d his arm,--a deadly plunge, and down she weltering lay,
And while her heart’s-blood stain’d the ground, with dying breath
did say.
“Monster, the fearful crime you’ve done heaven’s LORD will bring to
light,
“No human eye is looking on--none sees the cruel sight.
“Yet righteous KING of heaven and earth my blood doth cry to thee,
“To visit my untimely death that all mankind may see.”
Now when this deed of blood was done he dug a hole so deep,
And thrust her murdered body in, then homeward did retreat,
But vengeance did his crime requite for to his great dismay,
The horrid murder came to light all in a wond’rous way.
He did confess--they dug the ground while hundreds came to view.
And here the murder’d corpse they found, of her who lov’d so true,
In irons now in Prison strong lamenting he does lie;
And, by the laws condemn’d ere long, most justly he will die.
J. Catnach, Printer, 2, Monmouth-court, 7 Dials.
THE NAKED TRUTH, OR DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND,
BEING THE FULL ACCOUNT OF AN EXTRAORDINARY WAGER OF £5000, Laid between
Lord ---- and the Duke’s Son, TWO MEN OF FASHION.
To Miss C----
=When=--fiercest storms are gone to rest,
=Shall=--mild and gentle calms succeed,
=I=--’m told, to ease the heart opprest,
=Sleep=--is the only balm we need.
=With=--these few lines, by nature taught,
=You=--will a simple question find;
=My=--meaning’s plain, so find it out,
=Love=--will direct you, tho’ he’s blind.
Miss C----’s answer.
=To=--bless you is my soul’s desire,
=Night=--brings in dreams my flame,
=If=--you can feel an equal fire,
=You=--’ll find me still the same.
=Will=--you be still of tender mind;
=Bring=--love not light, but constant kind,
=The=--world would ne’er see such a couple;
=Parson=--’s can conquer every scruple,
[Illustration]
A few nights since, at a fashionable _hell_ in the western part of
this _well policed_ metropolis, the following extraordinary wager
was laid and decided. Lord -------- bet £5000 with the eldest son of
the Duke of -------- who had frequently distinguished himself by his
eccentricities, that he would carry him on his shoulders nine times
round St. James’s square after the business of the house was finished.
At three o’clock in the morning, the parties, attended by their
friends, repaired to the spot; but here Lord ------- observed that his
bet was to carry his opponent, but _not his clothes also_. However, the
young hero of joking and smoking celebrity, was not to be done by his
cunning adversary, and he actually, at that hour of the morning, with
the wind sharp as a “serpent’s tooth,” stripped himself to the _buff_.
Yes, gentle, refined, or rheumatic reader! he, this son of the Duke of
--------, divesting himself of shame (if ever he had any), stripped
himself of _all_, even to the most minute parts of his dress, and won
£5000. And then covering himself, not with glory, but his clothes,
went to finish at a bagnio, with the notorious and accommodating Miss
C-------- of -------- Square, not a hundred miles off.--=“These are the
Men of Fashion!!”=
Batchelar, Printer, Long Alley.
EXTRAORDINARY & FUNNY DOINGS IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD.
[Illustration]
It is ------ is a comical place,
And you’ll find from one end to the other,
And all classes of persons through life,
Can daily find fault with the other.
Some can gossip and tattle about,
And fill every person with dizziness,
What an excellent thing it would be,
If people would mind their own business.
Did you see Mrs Bubble-and-squeak,
Walk out with her young daughter Sally,
She has got on a new bonnet and shawl,
And a nice handsome gown on the tally.
Such a bustle, oh! dear, she does wear,
Why cut up with pride I am sure she is,
Some can always see other folks’ faults,
But they never can mind their own business
Mrs Stradle has just gone along,
Don’t you think she’s a queer sort of creature
She owes tenpence for chandler’s shop score,
Besides eighteen pence for the baker.
And she can drink gin like a fish,
Which oft fills her head with dizziness,
But you know that, is nothing to me,
For I always do mind my own business.
Mrs Thingembob, what do you think,
You know Mrs and Miss Carbuncle,
Last night took the pillows and sheets,
Their flat irons and gowns to my uncle.
I think between you and me,
It can be nothing more than laziness,
I wish you’d take my advice,
Look at home and mind your own business,
And we shall all find enough for to do.
Madam,
The love and tenderness I have hitherto expressed to
you is false, and I now feel that my indifference towards
you increases every day, and the more I see you the more
you appear ridiculous in my eyes, and contemptible--
I feel inclined and in every respect disposed and determined
to hate you. Believe me I never had any inclination
to offer you my hand. Our last conversation I assure you
left a tedious and wretched insipidity which has not
possessed me with an exalted opinion of your character,
your inconstant temper would make me miserable,
and if ever we are united, I shall experience nothing but
the hatred of my parents, added to the everlasting
pleasure in living with you, I have a true heart to bestow,
but however I do not wish you for a moment to think
it is at your service, as I could not give it to one more
inconstant and capricious than yourself, and one less
capable to do honour to my choice, and my family.
Yes, Madam, I beg and desire you’ll be persuaded that I
think seriously, and you will do me a great favour to
avoid me. I shall excuse you taking the trouble to
give me an answer to this, as your letters are full of
nonsense and impertinence, and have not a shadow of
wit and good sense. Adieu, and believe me truly, I am
so averse to you, that it is impossible I should ever be,
Madam, your Affectionate Servant and Lover. R. G.
Sir,
The uniform tendency of your behaviour from
the natural brutality of disposition evinced by you since
the period of our acquaintance, has possessed me with
a sovereign contempt of your understanding, without
the most exalted opinion of your politeness and integrity,
believe me, I have considered you a despisable being,
and could I ever be induced to change my condition,
you are the last person I should choose; nay, I despise you
you are only capable of inspiring in me such ideas.
Though it has lowered me in my opinion, nevertheless
your letter has afforded me satisfaction by convincing me
I am not so contemptible a character as I should be did
I possess your esteem. With respect to your heart
I believe it to be quite as worthless as your letter, and
did it offer me a refusal some difficulty might occur
to decide whether to throw it on the dunghill or the fire.
Matrimony is a union not to be formed without due care,
my knowledge of you has redoubled caution on this point,
and I should prefer you on such an event taking place,
if like Polita I wish to deal in monkeys and apes--
I cannot conclude without giving thanks for your candour,
though in it you may have violated every rule of decency,
and I shall follow your example by assuring you I am
resolved never to subscribe myself what I really am not
your well-wisher and sincere friend, E. H. M.
By reading every other line of the above letters the true meaning will
be found.
THE LOVE LETTER,
_The Lady’s Maid!! The Secret Found out!!! Or_
A MARRIED MAN CAUGHT IN A TRAP.
[Illustration]
“Good morning, Sir.”
“The same to you, Miss! Very happy to meet you here; how far are you
going?”
“Not far, Sir; but I should be proud of your company for a short time.”
“Thank you, Miss, I hope we shall be better acquainted e’re long.”
“I hope, Sir, you’re unmarried?”
“Happy to say at present--I am!”
“Very well, Sir, I am at present without a sweetheart who has
possession of my heart.”
“My dear, I will endeavour to try to gain you.”
“Excuse me, Sir, I am poor.”
“My dear, I am only a theatrical gentleman, but very fond of the fair
sex.”
“Do you think, my cherub, that you will be able to keep us when we are
wed?”
“Yes, my dear, for I will feed you on oysters, beef-steaks, and all
such fattening and strengthening things as are necessary for our
conjugal happiness and comfort.”
“But, Sir, can I really depend upon you?”
“Yes, my dear, shall we name the day for our marriage?”
“Suppose we say, my love, the day after to-morrow.”
“Agreed; until that, adieu.”
On the morning appointed for the wedding, the young woman received the
following epistle:--
[Illustration]
“MY DEAREST FANNY.--I have thought on your proposal since last we met,
but from circumstances that have transpired, I beg leave to postpone
our marriage to a future day. I thought on our conversation and your
delightful company ever since, and have enclosed a copy for your
perusal.
“I am,
“Yours for ever,
“HENRY J.N.S.
“Light of my soul! by night and day,
I’ll love thee ever;
Light of my soul! list to my lay,
I’ll leave thee never.
Light of my soul! where’er I go,
My thoughts on thee are hov’ring;
Light of my soul! in weal or woe--
_Send by the bearer a sovereign_!”
The young woman read this letter with disdain, and wrote back the
following answer:--
“SIR,--I return your note with disgust, having been informed that you
are a married man, and I hope you will bestow the trash you offered me
upon your wife. So pray trouble me no more with your foolery.”
Poor H. took this so much to heart, that he went and drowned his senses
in wine, and then returned home; undressing himself, the letter fell
from his bosom, his wife picked it up, read it, and beat him about the
head with a dish-cloth.
* * * * *
There are two ways of reading this to discover the parties. Henry ----
lives in THIS STREET, and Fanny ---- at the ---- shop round the corner,
and is said to be no better than she should be. The child’s name we
understand is to be Anthony.
ALL FOUND OUT AT LAST,
_Or the SECRET DISCOVERED_,
After having been carried on in a curious manner for a long time.
[Illustration]
“Most adorable Mary--
“Why have you left me, and deprived me of those pleasures of beholding
the most charming face that nature ever made? How shall I find words
to express the passion you have inspired me with? Since the day I
first beheld your form I have felt the sharpest pangs of love, which
have worked me up to the utmost pitch of distraction. But, alas! such
a shock I felt as is impossible to express. The dearest object of my
heart is locked in the embrace of Robert E---- that vile monster and
decoyer of female innocence. Oh! never should I have thought that
after so many pleasant hours we have passed together, and promises
pledged on either side, that you would have slighted me in the manner
you have, and find your heart callous to one who adores you, and even
the ground your angelic form walks upon. Oh, my adorable angel, do not
forsake me and the welfare of yourself; drop all connection with that
vile deceiver, R. E., and once more reinstate me to that pleasure which
none but lovers know. My fluctuation of fortune shall never abate my
attachment, and I hope the day is not far distant, when I shall lead
you to the altar of Hymen. Oh! soon may the time arrive when I may
call thee, dearest Mary, my own. Oh! my dearest angel, consent to my
request, and keep me no longer in suspense; nothing on my part shall
ever be wanting to make you happy and comfortable. My engagement will
expire in two months from hence, when I intend to open a shop in the
small-ware line, and your abilities as a seamstress and self-adjusting
crinoline maker, with the assistance of a few work girls, shall be able
to realize an independence; and, moreover, I will indulge you in all
things needful in the marriage state, and show my regard for you by
cleaning your shoes, lighting the fire every morning, buying crumpets,
new butter, and so forth; besides, my dear Mary, we will live merrily
upon beef-steak, oysters, and other tasty articles necessary for our
conjugal happiness, and upon my bended kness I pray for it, and may
earthly friendship and confidence, with truest love, continue to the
end.
“You are the first, I freely own,
That raised love in my breast,
Where now it reigns without control,
But yet a welcome guest.
Ah! must I drive the cherub hence,
In sorrow to regret,
And will you join to foster me,
And me no more neglect.”
“Most adorable Mary,--I have to repeat my former request, that is, quit
R. E.’s company, and place yourself under the protection of me, only
in whom you will find all the comfort that wedded life can bestow.
“I remain, dear Mary, yours till death,
“JOHN S----
“P. S.--Favor me, my angel, with an answer by return of post; if not, I
shall start off directly for Liverpool, and embark for America.”
THE YORKSHIRE KNIGHT, OR THE FORTUNATE FARMER’S DAUGHTER, IN THREE
PARTS.
PART I.--Showing how a noble Knight was riding by a farmer’s house,
when his wife was in travail. The Knight knowing the signs and planets,
and looking on a book, read that the farmer’s daughter that was born
that hour was to be his lady and bride. And how the cruel Knight got
the child from her parents, and flung it into a river; but by good
fortune, the child was taken up by a poor fisherman alive, and brought
home till she was eleven years old.
PART II.--How the fisherman was at an inn with some gentlemen, the
cruel Knight being in the same company, and seeing the young girl come
in, he asked the fisherman if she was his own daughter, who told the
story of his taking her up, &c. How the cruel Knight got this poor girl
away, and contrived her death a second time, and how he was prevented.
PART III.--How the Knight contrived her death a third time; but her
life was saved, by showing the Knight a ring that he flung in the sea;
when the Knight saw it, found it in vain to strive against his fortune,
so he married her, and made her his lady; with other things worthy of
note.
PART I.
In York fair city a farmer did dwell,
Who was belov’d by his neighbours full well;
He had a good wife who was virtuous and fair,
And by her he had a child every year.
In seven years time six children they had,
Which made both the father and mother’s heart glad
But a little time after as we do hear say,
This farmer in money and stock did decay,
Although at one time he had riches in store,
But a little time after he quickly grew poor.
He strove all he could, but alas! could not thrive,
Nor hardly could keep his poor children alive.
But children came faster than silver or gold,
For his wife she conceived again as I’m told,
And when her time came in hard travail she fell,
But if you will mind, a strange wonder I’ll tell;
A rich noble knight did chance to ride by,
And hearing this woman to shriek and to cry,
He being well learned in planets and signs,
Did look on a book which much puzzled his mind.
For the more he did look, still the more he did read,
And found that fate this young child had decreed,
Who was born in that house that same hour and tide
Had found it was she that must be his sweet bride.
But judge how the knight was disturbed in mind,
When he in that book his own fortune did find;
He quickly rode home, but was sorely oppressed,
From that very moment he could not have rest.
All night he did tumble and toss in his bed,
And very strange projects did run in his head:
Then he was resolved very quickly indeed,
To alter that fortune he found was decreed.
With murdering heart the next morning he rose,
And to the house of the farmer he goes:
Then asked the man with a heart full of spite,
If the child was alive that was born last night.
Worthy sir, said the farmer, although I am poor,
I had one born last night, and six long before;
Four sons and three daughters I now have alive,
Which are all in good health and likely to thrive.
The Knight then replied if that seven you have,
Let me have the youngest, I’ll keep her most brave,
For you very well with one daughter can spare,
Which if you will grant, I will make her my heir.
For I am a Knight of noble degree,
And if you will part with your child unto me,
Full three hundred pounds unto you I will give,
When I from your hand your daughter receive.
The father and mother with tears in their eyes,
Did hear this fine proffer, and were in surprise,
And seeing the Knight was so gallant and gay,
Presented the infant unto him that day.
But they spoke to him with words most mild,
We beseech you, kind sir, be good to our child;
You need not fear it, the Knight he did say,
For I will maintain her most gallant and gay.
Then with this sweet baby away he did ride
Until that he came to a broad river side,
With cruelty bent, he resolved indeed,
To drown the young infant that moment with speed.
Says he if you live you must needs be my wife,
But I am resolved to bereave you of live:
For ’till you are dead I no other can have,
Therefore you shall lie in a watery grave.
In speaking these words, that moment, they say,
He flung the sweet babe in the river straightway;
And being well pleased when this he had done,
Did leap on his horse and quickly ride home.
But mind how good fortune did for her provide,
For the child was drove safe on her back by the tide,
There was a man fishing, as fortune would have,
Who saw the child floating upon the salt wave.
He soon took her up, but he was in amaze,
He kissed her, and blessed her, and on her did gaze,
And seeing he ne’er had a child in his life,
He presently carried her home to his wife.
His wife she was pleased the child for to see,
And said, my dear husband, be ruled by me;
Since we have no child, if you let me alone,
We’ll keep this sweet baby, and call it our own.
The good man consented, as I have been told,
And spared nothing--neither silver nor gold;
Until she was aged eleven full years,
And then her sweet beauty began to appear.