property on which he had claims near Exeter. This she enjoyed for a
number of years, but ultimately her rights, whether erroneously or not,
were decided to be invalid, and she was deprived of the pittance which
had formed her maintenance. She was thrown into great distress, and was
compelled to solicit assistance from the charitable, having become
nearly if not entirely blind. The late King William gave her at one time
10_l._, and at another 20_l._ In 1836, the forlorn and miserable
condition of poor Parker's widow was made known to the London
magistrates, and a temporary refuge was provided for her. But temporary
assistance was of little avail to one whose physical infirmities
rendered her incapable any longer of helping herself, and again her
miserable condition came under the cognizance of the public authorities.
An appeal to the charitable has recently been made, by a portion of the
daily press, in her favour, but with what success we are unable to say.
She is now seventy years of age, blind, and friendless. Time and
misfortune have not quenched her affection for the partner of her early
days. Of him she yet speaks with all the enthusiasm of youthful
affection, and still mourns his fate.
MARIA THERESA PHIPOE, _alias_ MARY BENSON
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
We do not recollect ever to have seen the case of any woman who has
exhibited so much masculine determination as Mrs. Phipoe. She was twice
tried at the Old Bailey upon charges equally atrocious, and each equally
exhibiting the ferocity of her disposition.
In the first case, the indictment charged that she had feloniously
assaulted Mr. John Cortois, with intent to kill and murder him. Her
trial came on at the Old Bailey in the month of January 1795, when it
was proved in evidence that the prisoner was a person of abandoned
character, and that she kept a house, where she was in the habit of
receiving visits of a certain character from gentlemen. Among her other
patrons was Mr. John Cortois, a gentleman of considerable property; and
it appears that Mr. Cortois having called upon her one evening, he was
alarmed at finding himself suddenly seized from behind by his paramour,
and her servant, a woman almost as powerful as herself, by whom he was
speedily overpowered, and bound to his chair with strong cords. His
person being thus secured, Mrs. Phipoe immediately, with horrid
imprecations, demanded that he should sign a note or bill in her favour
for 2000_l._, threatening that, in the event of his refusal, she would
instantly cut his throat; and even enforcing her demands by holding a
knife at his throat in such a position as that on the smallest movement
on his part would have procured the infliction of a wound. In a state of
the utmost terror and alarm, he consented to attach his name to the
instrument which was produced, ready drawn by Mrs. Phipoe, and then he
imagined, as a matter of course, that he should be at liberty. But Mrs.
Phipoe by this time had begun to consider the possibility of his
preventing the negotiation of the note, and determining that "Dead men
tell no tales," she had made up her mind that he should have no
opportunity of disclosing the means by which it had been obtained. For
this diabolical purpose, she now made a violent attack upon him with a
knife, and wounded him in many places; but Mr. Cortois, becoming
desperate in his turn, burst the bonds by which he was confined with a
violent effort, and attacked his assailant. A struggle took place, in
which Mr. Cortois was again mastered by the united efforts of Mrs.
Phipoe and her servant; and then a choice was tendered to him whether he
would die by poison, by being shot, or by the knife which Mrs. Phipoe
brandished in a threatening manner over his head. The unfortunate
gentleman was now much weakened by loss of blood, and was almost
prevented from opposing the further violence of his demoniac assailants,
when, luckily, the cries which he had raised brought him assistance in
the shape of a watchman, through whose instrumentality Mrs. Phipoe was
secured.
Upon this testimony a verdict of guilty was returned; but a point of law
being subsequently raised in favour of the prisoner, it was declared
that the judgment must be arrested.
Mrs. Phipoe was, however, subsequently, on the 23rd of May, indicted for
the common assault upon Mr. Cortois, and a verdict of guilty having been
a second time returned, she was subjected to twelve months' imprisonment
in Newgate.
A year had scarcely elapsed after the termination of the period of her
incarceration, before Mrs. Phipoe, or Mrs. Benson, as she was now
called, was again in custody on a charge of murder.
She was indicted on the 8th of December 1797, for the wilful murder of
Mary Cox; and it appeared that at the time of the commission of this
offence, the prisoner lived in lodgings in Garden-street, St. George's
in the East. On the night of the murder, Mrs. Cox called upon her; but
within a short time after she had entered her room, a scuffle was heard,
followed by loud groans. The mistress of the house demanded to know the
cause of the disturbance, but the prisoner declared that it was only
Mrs. Cox in a fit. The door being opened, however, Mrs. Benson was
observed to be covered with blood, and Mrs. Cox was found lying on the
ground desperately wounded. Two persons immediately went for a doctor,
while a constable was also sent for, by whom the prisoner was taken into
custody. Mrs. Cox, on being examined, was found to have sustained some
severe wounds, from which there was no prospect of her recovering; and
she pointed out Mrs. Benson as the person by whom they had been
inflicted. A large clasp-knife, covered with blood, was found on the
table in the room; and by its side lay a part of a finger; and on Mrs.
Benson being questioned, she admitted that that was the knife with which
"she had done the woman's business;" and said that her own finger had
been cut off in the scuffle. Mrs. Cox subsequently died in the hospital,
from the effects of the stabs she had received, having previously made a
declaration before a magistrate as to the circumstances attending her
murder. She said that having purchased a gold watch of the prisoner for
11_l._, she asked that a coffee-cup, which she pointed out, might be
given to her into the bargain. The prisoner bade her take it; but on her
raising her hand to remove it from the shelf, she received a stab in the
neck, which was followed by many others in the same place and on
different parts of her body. The prisoner subsequently got her on the
bed, and swore that she would murder her outright, that she should not
tell her own tale; but she was interrupted by the entrance of the
landlady.
The prisoner in her defence declared that Mrs. Cox had abused her, and
had violently wounded her, so as to cut off part of her finger before
she offered any violence to her; but that then, being maddened with pain
and rage, she admitted she had attacked her. She knew nothing of what
subsequently occurred, until she was found by her landlady in her own
room covered with blood.
The jury having returned a verdict that the prisoner was guilty, she
behaved with great hardihood, frequently interrupting the learned judge
(Mr. Baron Perryn) in his observations, while condemning her to death.
Sentence having been passed, however, that she should be hanged and
subsequently dissected, she was removed from the bar, and then she
appeared to be fully sensible of her guilt, and of the nature of her
present position.
She was executed before Newgate, December the 11th, 1797; and after
hanging an hour in the view of a great number of spectators, one-third
of whom were females, the body was cut down, and delivered to the
surgeons for dissection.
In her last moments she confessed the justice of her sentence, but
denied having cut off her own finger, saying it was done in the scuffle
with the woman she murdered. She owned to have been guilty of many
enormities, and attributed her frequent gusts of passion to the use of
laudanum.
Her body was publicly exhibited in a place built for the purpose in the
Old Bailey.
JAMES O'COIGLEY, _alias_ FAVEY.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
James O'Coigley was indicted at Maidstone, on the 21st of May 1798, for
high treason. The indictment was read by Mr. Knapp, who afterwards
stated the charges it contained in a summary manner. He said there were
three distinct species of treason charged in the indictment and seven
overt acts. The first treason was compassing and imagining the death of
the king; the second, adhering to his enemies; the third, compassing and
imagining, inventing, devising and intending, to move and stir certain
foreigners and strangers, that is to say, the persons exercising the
powers of government in France, to invade this kingdom. The first overt
act was sending intelligence to the enemy; the other overt acts were
attempts to hire vessels, and to leave the kingdom.
At the trial, which lasted during the whole of two days, an immense body
of evidence was produced in support of the charges preferred against the
prisoner. A pocket-book, however, which had been found in his
great-coat, and in which was a letter addressed to the Executive
Directory of France, afforded conclusive evidence of his guilt.
Upon his being called upon for his defence, he addressed the jury in the
following terms:--
"It is impossible for me to prove a negative; but it is a duty I owe to
you, and to myself, solemnly to declare that I never was the bearer of
any message or paper of this kind to France in the course of my life.
That paper is not mine: it never belonged to me. It states that it was
to be carried by the bearer of the last: this is something which might
have been proved, but it is impossible for me to prove a negative. There
is also in this paper an allusion to secret committees and political
societies. I declare that I never attended any political society
whatever. With these considerations I consign my life to your justice;
not doubting but that you will conduct yourselves as English jurymen
ever do, and that your verdict will be such as shall receive the
approbation of your own conscience, your country, and your God."
The jury, after about half-an-hour's consideration, found O'Coigley
Guilty.
Mr. Justice Buller, in an address to the prisoner, which he read from a
written paper previously to his passing the sentence, observed that he
had been clearly convicted of the most atrocious crime which could be
committed in any country--that of meditating the destruction of a
sovereign, who was one of the best, the most just, upright, and amiable
of princes that ever graced a throne; and he could not conceive what
were the motives which could actuate any man even to wish for the death
of one who had ever been the father of his people.
The prisoner was also found guilty of conspiring to overturn the
constitution of these kingdoms--a constitution which, from the
experiment of years, had been found to be the best calculated of any
that ever existed in the world to ensure the liberty, security, and
happiness of the people who lived under it.
These atrocious crimes became still greater from the manner in which
they were intended to be perpetrated--that of inviting a foreign enemy
to come and invade and conquer these countries.
Those people who had fancied such an event to be a desirable one ought
to think seriously what the consequences of it would be, provided it was
possible to be accomplished. Did they suppose that (desperate as their
present situation might be) their condition would be bettered by having
their country put into the possession of people who were holding out the
delusive hopes of what they call liberty to other nations? Could such
persons hope that they themselves should enjoy liberty, even supposing
the conquerors to have enjoyed as free a constitution as any in the
world? No; they would become suspected, be despised, and destroyed by
them.
A celebrated writer (Montesquieu) very justly observed upon this
subject, that a country conquered by a democratic nation always enjoyed
less liberty, was more miserable, and more enslaved, than if that
country happened to have been conquered by a nation whose government was
monarchical. But if there was any illustration of this observation
wanting, one had only to look to the conduct of the French at this
moment towards Holland, Italy, Switzerland, and every other country they
had conquered. His lordship believed that the prisoner might have been
actuated by motives similar to those which used formerly to induce many
people to think that the killing of men of a different religion would
give them a claim to canonization. But, though the motives might be
similar, the subjects connected with them were very different. In the
present times he did not believe that any person entertained such
sentiments about religion. On the contrary, he was sorry to find that
religion was too much neglected, and that the peace and tranquillity of
numbers of people were destroyed in consequence of their having lost all
belief of the existence of a Divine Providence, and totally abandoned
all hopes of a future state. He was afraid that the prisoner had been
infected with this infidelity; and if he was, he (the judge) prayed that
the Almighty God, in his infinite mercy and goodness, would change his
heart, and cause him to repent of his sins.
His lordship then, in a solemn and awful manner, passed the following
sentence:--
"That the prisoner be taken from the bar to prison, and from thence to
the place of execution; there to be hanged, but not until he be dead, to
be cut down while yet alive, and then to have his heart and bowels taken
out and burnt before his face; his head to be severed from his body, and
his body to be divided into four quarters."
Mr. O'Coigley listened to this address and sentence with attention, but
at the same time with the greatest coolness. He bowed his head when the
judge concluded, his countenance expressing at once resignation and
firmness.
Thursday, 7th June, being fixed upon for the execution, on the previous
day, the unhappy prisoner received an intimation to that effect without
emotion. He spent the evening very calmly. He had but one thing, he
said, on his mind which created any anxiety; that was, an apprehension
that he might be misrepresented after his death. He was anxious to be
faithfully reported, and that was all he wanted. On Thursday, at a
quarter past eleven o'clock, O'Coigley left the jail. He was dressed in
black; his hair was cropped and powdered, his shirt-collar open, and he
wore no neckcloth. His elbows were tied behind with ropes, and over his
shoulders was the rope with which he was to be executed. He stepped into
the hurdle; and on his sitting down, a chain was put round his waist to
fasten him. The executioner sat opposite to him. The cavalcade was well
guarded by a large body of the Kent Volunteers; and throughout the
journey to Pennenden Heath, the prisoner was engaged in reading from a
book of devotions.
Upon their arrival at the place of execution, the military formed a
square. The prisoner being unchained, he rose up and stood in the
hurdle, and read two prayers, one of them aloud in Latin. He then took
out of his pocket an orange, and also a penknife; but being unable to
cut the orange, from his hands being bound, he gave it to a friend, whom
he beckoned to come near him, saying, "Open this orange with my
penknife; it has been said they would not trust me with a penknife, lest
I should cut my throat; but they little knew that I would not deprive
myself of the glory of dying in this way." He desired his friend to keep
the penknife for his sake, and to hold the orange, several pieces of
which he ate.
After finishing his devotions, the clergyman gave him absolution; and
having ascended the platform, he bid farewell to the jailor, thanking
him for the many civilities he had shown him. On his being tied up to
the gallows, he made the following speech:--
"I shall only here solemnly declare, that I am innocent of the charge
for which I suffer. I never was in my life the bearer of any letter, or
other paper or message, printed, written, or verbal, to the Directory of
France, nor to any person on their behalf; neither was I ever a member
of the London Corresponding Society, or of any other political society
in Great Britain; nor did I attend any of their meetings, public or
private, so help me God! I know not whether I shall be believed here in
what I say, but I am sure I shall be believed in the world to come. It
can scarcely be supposed that one like me, in this situation, going to
eternity, before the most awful tribunal, would die with a falsehood in
his mouth; and I do declare, by the hopes I confidently feel of
salvation and happiness in a future state, that my life is falsely and
maliciously taken away by corrupt and base perjury, in some cases
proceeding from mistake, no doubt, but in others from design. Almighty
God, forgive all my enemies. I beg of you to pray that God will grant me
grace--for I have many sins to answer for; but they are the sins of my
private life, and not the charge for which I now die. (Raising his
voice.) Lord have mercy on me, and receive my soul."
A white nightcap was then drawn over his face, and he made a signal by
dropping a handkerchief. The board was then let down, and he remained
suspended for twelve or thirteen minutes. Upon his being taken down, his
head was taken off by a surgeon, and the executioner held it up to the
populace, saying "This is the head of a traitor." Both head and body
were then put into a shell, and buried at the foot of the gallows.
GEORGE WALDRON, _alias_ BARRINGTON.
TRANSPORTED FOR PICKING POCKETS.
This notorious offender was born of decent parents in the year 1755, in
the town of Maynooth, county Kildare, Ireland. His father, whose name
was Waldron, was a working silversmith; and his mother followed the
occupation of mantua-maker, and occasionally joined with it the
profession of a midwife. Owing to a law-suit in which they were engaged
with a relative, for the recovery of a legacy to which they conceived
themselves entitled, their circumstances were by no means affluent. But
although they were unable to procure for their son the advantages of a
superior education, they had him instructed at an early age in reading
and writing; and afterwards, through the bounty of a medical gentleman
in the neighbourhood, he was taught the principles of arithmetic, and
the elements of geography and English grammar.
When he had entered his sixteenth year, he had the good fortune to
attract the notice of a dignitary of the Church of Ireland, through
whose interest he was placed at a free grammar-school in the Irish
capital, where his patron proposed he should fit himself for the
University; and in order that he might be able to make an appearance
equal to that of the youths with whom he was to associate, his generous
protector supplied him with money and every other necessary that could
render his situation at school not only comfortable, but respectable.
These advantages he enjoyed but a short time, for the impetuosity of his
passions hurried him into an action by which he lost his patron's favour
for ever. When he had been about half a year at the grammar-school, he
was involved in a quarrel with a lad much older and stronger than
himself. Some blows passed, in which George suffered considerably; but
in order to be revenged, he stabbed his antagonist with a penknife; and
had he not been prevented, would probably have murdered him. For this
atrocious offence the discipline of the house was inflicted with proper
severity, which irritated the youth to such a degree, that he formed the
resolution of abandoning not only the school, but also his family and
friends. His plan of escape was no sooner formed than it was carried
into execution; but before his departure he found means to steal ten or
twelve guineas from the master, and a gold repeating-watch from his
sister. With this booty he safely effected his escape from the
school-house in the middle of a still night in the month of May 1771; and
pursuing the great north road from Dublin all that night and the next
day, he arrived late in the evening at Drogheda without interruption.
Having reached this town, where he thought that he should be safe from
the chances of pursuit and discovery, by a species of forced march,
without rest or refreshment, he entered a small public-house in order to
procure the one and the other; but the following morning introduced to
his notice a band of strolling players, whose acquaintance he
immediately made. A friendship commenced under such unfavourable
circumstances, it might be thought would scarcely last many days, but it
was nevertheless maintained through choice and affection for several
years; and it appears that whilst engaged as a member of the company, he
picked up much information which was exceedingly useful to him in his
subsequent career.
Price, the manager of the company, having lived some time in London, in
the capacity of clerk to a pettifogging attorney, was intimately
acquainted with the town, and all the arts of fraud, deception, or
violence, which are practised in it by the most unprincipled classes to
procure money. For indulging these vicious propensities, he subjected
himself to the lash of the law, and was at this time an involuntary
exile in Ireland till the expiration of the term for which he was to be
transported; and this man soon became the confidant and counsellor of
the young fugitive. By his advice he renounced his paternal name,
assumed that of Barrington, and entered into the company; and in the
course of four days he became so well initiated in the mysteries of his
profession as to be able to perform the part of Jaffier in "Venice
Preserved," without the aid of a prompter, in a crowded barn in the
neighbourhood of Drogheda with the most flattering demonstrations of
applause.
His success, however, was by far too great to render it at all desirable
that he should continue his performances so near the scene of his late
depredations; and in obedience to the dictates of prudence, lest our
hero might be called upon to make his last appearance on a "stage"
fitted up with a drop, before his character as a player was fully
established, it was resolved that the whole company should, without
delay, move northwards with all speed, so as to get out of the way, with
the anticipation of their being able to reach sixty or eighty miles from
Dublin without any long bait. In order to carry this resolution into
effect, however, it was recollected that some means must be found to
feed the strollers, as the produce of their late performances was not so
weighty as to require any great exertion on the part of the treasurer to
squeeze it into his waistcoat pocket; and the gold repeater being
remembered, it was immediately given up by our hero, _pro bono publico_,
with a degree of liberality which procured for him a burst of applause
from his companions in the search of histrionic fame. The watch being
disposed off, its proceeds were equally divided, and the party set out
on its march; but when they arrived at Londonderry, it was found that
the Belvidera of the company had surrendered her heart to the new
Jaffier. A reciprocal attachment was found to exist, and the connexion
was only dissolved by the death of the lady. It appears that she was the
daughter of a respectable tradesman at Coventry; and having eloped from
her father's house, at the age of sixteen years, with a lieutenant of
marines, conducted by him to Dublin, and there, in less than three
months, was infamously abandoned to all the horrors of penury and want.
Reduced to this extremity, she readily embraced a proposal made to her
by Price, to join his company, as her only resource; and being young and
beautiful, it is not extraordinary that she should have excited a flame
in the bosom of her new admirer. She was unfortunately drowned, in her
eighteenth year, in crossing the Boyne, through the negligence of the
ferryman.