am ill-fitted for the task of addressing you on this occasion. Agitated
as I am between hope and fear, I can only solemnly assure you that I
never forged a stamp in my life; but the public mind has been prejudiced
against me by unfounded reports and advertisements, containing vile
insinuations against me. But, gentlemen, I entreat and charge you upon
your oaths, that you banish all that you have heard out of this court
from your minds, and all that I have to wish from you is, that you be
influenced only by the evidence, and that you will do unto me as you
would wish to be done unto, were you placed in my unfortunate situation.
I have practised as an attorney among my townsmen and neighbours with
credit and respectability for twenty-seven years; you will hear from
them upon their oaths, the character I have maintained during that
period. In making my defence, I have many great and, indeed, insuperable
difficulties to contend with: I am called to furnish an answer, and that
by evidence, against a charge which I never heard of until I entered
this court, for until I heard the indictment read I had no knowledge of
that which they have imputed to me by this indictment, and of course it
was absolutely impossible for me to be prepared with evidence to rebut
the charge. With respect to the deed in question, I know nothing of it,
it has been long out of my possession, and it is clear by the evidence
of the witnesses for the prosecution, that it has been very much
exposed. I would only observe that if it had not had a regular stamp
affixed to it, the engrossing clerk must have seen it, and it must
likewise have been observed at the office when the deed was registered.
When my house was searched, my account-books were taken away, which has
deprived me of all means of tracing the deed in question, or of proving
where the stamp was bought; I had therefore no clue to direct my search.
With respect to the spoiled stamps, I would observe, that they have lain
by me a long time, and that the period of claiming the allowance for
them has long elapsed. It often happens, that after a deed is engrossed,
the execution may be delayed a very considerable time beyond the period
allowed for claiming the allowance, and if ultimately it should not be
executed the stamp would be entirely lost; this will account for the
spoiled stamps which in a long series of time have been accumulated. I
declare to you, gentlemen, that the deed in question had upon it a
regular stamp when it was executed in my office, and I trust you will
not presume anything against me; that you will attend only to the
evidence, and that you will decide upon my fate with the same candour as
you would wish in similar circumstances to have shown to you. My life is
in your hands. I shall bow with resignation to your decision, and I
trust that your decision will be right."
As many as twenty-four gentlemen of the highest respectability were
called to speak to the prisoner's character, and they all joined in
declaring that they believed him incapable of committing such an offence
as that which was imputed to him.
The learned Judge then proceeded to sum up the case, and the Jury having
retired from the Court, for about a quarter of an hour, returned with a
verdict of Guilty.
Mr. Blackburn and Mr. Wainewright were subsequently put to the bar
together and arraigned upon an indictment, in which they were charged
jointly with removing a stamp from one deed and affixing it to another,
but the evidence being inconclusive, they were declared to be Not
guilty.
The court during the whole day was crowded to excess, and the greatest
interest appeared to be excited amongst the inhabitants of Leeds, where
the prisoners had lived, many of whom were present. Mr. Blackburn was
dressed in a suit of mourning, with his hair powdered. He conducted
himself with great propriety during the trial, but upon the verdict of
Guilty being returned he appeared to be completely unmanned. He paid no
attention whatever to the proceedings in the second trial, nor was he
observed to take any notice of his fellow-prisoner, Mr. Wainewright,
upon his being placed by his side.
Upon the Wednesday after the trial, sentence of death was passed upon
the unhappy man, and on Friday the 24th March Mr. Justice Le Blanc
quitted York, leaving him for execution on Saturday the 8th April. The
interval was brief, and his friends determined to lose no time in
applying to the Prince Regent for a mitigation of his sentence. A
petition was accordingly prepared, praying for the exercise of the royal
clemency towards him, and in the course of two or three days, this
application for mercy was signed by upwards of three thousand persons,
chiefly the fellow-townsmen of the unfortunate prisoner. On Sunday, the
26th March, Mr. Elliot Carrett, of Dewsbury, one of the attorneys
employed in conducting the defence of the prisoner, went to London, for
the purpose of presenting the petition to the Prince Regent, and of
taking such other steps as should appear likely to contribute to the
attainment of this object of the petition. Mrs. Blackburn, the wife of
this unfortunate gentleman, also repaired to London, with the view if
possible of throwing herself at the feet of his Royal Highness to
supplicate for the life of her unhappy husband. Every means which zeal
and friendship could suggest was used to give effect to this petition:
applications were made to persons of influence and consideration in the
state, to secure their co-operation, but, unhappily, without success;
and every hope of procuring either a mitigation or suspension of the
dreadful sentence of the law was extinguished by the following letter
from Viscount Sidmouth, his Majesty's principal Secretary of State for
the Home Department.
Whitehall, 1st April, 1816.
"SIR,--I have laid before his Royal Highness the petition which I
received on behalf of Joseph Blackburn, a prisoner under sentence of
death in the Castle of York, for forgery; and I am under the painful
necessity of acquainting you, that it did not appear to me consistent
with my public duty, to advise his Royal Highness to remit or suspend
the execution of the sentence passed upon this unfortunate person.
"I have the honour to be,
"Sir, your most obedient servant,
(Signed) "SIDMOUTH."
Before the result of this application to the Prince Regent was known to
either the prisoner or to his friends at Leeds, it was deemed advisable
to submit to Mr. Justice Le Blanc, who was then at Lancaster, certain
affidavits.
The object of these affidavits was to show that the deed was executed on
the day it purported to bear date, which was on the 30th September 1812,
and that as the dies spoken to by Mr. Topham were not delivered at the
office of Mr. Blackburn until the following month, it was quite
impossible that any forgery of the stamp on the deed in question, could
have been made by him at the time it was executed.
This application like that to the Crown was unsuccessful, and the
unhappy prisoner having received an intimation that no hope remained
that his life would be spared, he proceeded anxiously and ardently to
apply himself to his religious offices. He was attended up to the time
of his execution by the Rev. John Hamilton, the minister of a
dissenting congregation at Leeds, to whose religious exhortations he
paid the utmost attention. He continued for some days to labour under a
despondency approaching to despair, arising as he himself stated, not
from the dread of temporal death, but from a deep consciousness of the
aggravated guilt of his past life, his total neglect of religious
observances, and his gross indulgence in forbidden sensual pleasures. He
stated "that the irregularities of his past life had been so great as to
have deserved that death which had been awarded against him for an
offence of a different nature." He added, "that these crimes had been
committed against light and knowledge, and that he had only repented of
them, and thought upon religion, when every pleasure had been cut off,
and every earthly hope had become extinct." We rejoice however in being
able to add, that in a few days some faint rays of hope penetrated the
gloom which oppressed his mind; and as the merciful provisions of the
gospel were unfolded to him, and its encouraging promises pressed upon
his consideration, these hopes became brighter, and cast, if not a
brilliant, yet a cheering ray of light on the gloomy path he had yet to
tread.
On Thursday, the 6th of April, he attended the chapel, and heard with
profound attention, a sermon preached by the Rev. Mr. Richardson, who
had some religious conversation with him after the other prisoners had
retired. On Friday afternoon the prisoner had a last interview with his
brother; his unhappy wife had come to York on the same painful errand,
but on Mr. Hamilton representing to her that an interview might disturb
the tranquillity of her husband's last hours, she abstained from
pressing the request which she had made. She had seen him only once
since his conviction, and the meeting was of the most distressing
nature.
On the night before the execution, Mr. Hamilton continued in prayer with
the wretched prisoner up to a late hour, and he repeatedly expressed
himself perfectly resigned and ready at any moment to meet his fate.
On Saturday, at about half-past eleven o'clock, Mr. Blackburn was called
from his cell, and, the necessary arrangements having been made, he was
conducted to the scaffold supported by Mr. Hamilton. He walked with a
firm, unhesitating step, and perfectly erect. It was a quarter before
twelve o'clock when the procession arrived upon the platform. The
prisoner immediately kneeled down upon a stool provided for the
occasion, with his face averted from the numerous spectators, who were
assembled to witness this sad and melancholy spectacle.
The reverend gentleman who had with so much zeal and unwearied assiduity
attended him in prison, to speak to him the words of peace, did not
shrink from the painful task of accompanying him through this last
painful stage of his earthly pilgrimage; placing himself near the
prisoner, he in a low tone of voice asked him some questions relative to
the state of his mind with respect to his approaching change, and
particularly with respect to his entire dependence on the mercy of God
through the merits and mediation of the Messiah.--To these inquiries he
replied, "I have no other, I wish no other trust." Mr. Hamilton now
inquired if it was his wish that he should pray with him, and he eagerly
replied, "If your feelings on this occasion are not too much agitated, I
shall be greatly obliged." Kneeling down close to the prisoner, who kept
his eyes closed during the whole of this sad solemnity, he then offered
up a prayer at once solemn and tender, and adapted equally to the
former character and present situation of the humble penitent before
him. Mr. Blackburn appeared deeply to feel and fervently to join in this
last act of devotion, and when the minister came to that comprehensive
model of devotion, the Lord's Prayer, the prisoner accompanied him in an
audible voice.
When Mr. Hamilton rose up from prayer, he took Mr. Blackburn by the
hand, and having commended him to the mercy and protection of the
Almighty, took a sad adieu of him, conjuring him that when he suffered
death, and was entering eternity, he should aim at no higher strain than
this, "God be merciful to me a sinner." The poor sufferer grasped his
hand, and appeared reluctant to part; and in a voice rendered tremulous
by emotion, said, "May God Almighty bless and protect you." It now only
remained for the executioner to perform his part in the heart-rending
ceremony. Mr. Blackburn was assisted to rise, but it was evident that
the powerful emotion of his mind had impaired his strength, and the
under jailor supported him in his arms until the fatal cord was placed
round his neck, and properly adjusted. At this awful moment he
ejaculated, "O Lord God Almighty, have mercy upon me, and preserve my
soul alive." These were the last words he was heard to utter, as the
drop instantly fell.
It is painful to add that the noose of the cord had, by some means or
other, slipped from its proper situation, and he appeared much
convulsed. After he had been suspended about two minutes, the
executioner endeavoured to replace the cord in its original situation;
and though he succeeded in this attempt, it seemed to harrow up the
feelings of every person present, and produced a stronger sensation of
distress than any part of this mournful ceremony. In about six or seven
minutes from the falling of the drop, the unfortunate man appeared
insensible of further suffering. The body, after remaining suspended the
usual time, was put into a coffin, and delivered to his friends. His
remains were interred at an early hour on Monday, at Rothwell, a village
near Leeds.
JEREMIAH GRANT
EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.
The exploits of this celebrated Irish freebooter gained for him a
notoriety almost equal to that of his successor Captain Rody. Grant was
the son of a poor peasant in the Queen's County, and early evinced a
predilection for a life of idleness. His progress in literature amounted
to what his countryman shot at, "nothing at all;" but his fertile genius
obviated his misfortune in being supremely ignorant of reading and
writing, and his daring spirit triumphed over all minor obstacles.
Having reached the age of nineteen his "public life" began, for at that
time he commenced his depredations upon his fellow-countrymen in the
capacity of a highwayman, and his daring, and the fame of his exploits,
in the course of the ensuing two years gained him so much celebrity
among others of the same character, that at twenty-one he was chosen
"captain" of a select band of "gentlemen" who "followed the road."
His depredations for several years were confined to his native county,
and there his improvident liberality secured him the esteem and
blessings of the lower orders, while the terror of his name and the
dread of his
[Illustration: Discovery of Captain Grant and his band.
_P. 576_]
vengeance kept those of a higher rank in complete subjection to his
authority.
Like Rob Roy, he levied an annual tax on the farmers, which they
cheerfully paid, as it secured them from the nocturnal visits of his
followers; and the Captain was so rigid a disciplinarian, that any
dereliction of duty in this respect was punished with a heavy hand. His
exploits soon became too notorious, however, to pass unnoticed by the
authorities, and large rewards were offered for his apprehension; but,
although he was as well known as the "Hill of Howth," he was to be seen
at every fair and pattern in the country, and had a more numerous
acquaintance than the village doctor. At every farmer's table he was
welcome, and the cottages that gave him shelter were sure of reward; for
he freely shared the contributions he obtained with danger.
With the ladies he was a second Macheath, and more wives than one
claimed him for their husband; and it is reported that he was frequently
complimented on his person and manner, by the mistresses of those houses
which he visited without the formality of an invitation. But it must be
observed that he never forgot his accustomed humanity and politeness;
and, unless when attacked by the police, he never did an individual a
personal injury. His behaviour always evinced a degree of refinement
above his education and birth; and even those who suffered from his
depredations never spoke of him but as an "accomplished villain."
His character at length grew so notorious in the Queen's County, that a
consultation of magistrates was held for the purpose of devising means
for his apprehension, and in consequence of the measures they adopted
several of Grant's followers were brought to justice, and died, as their
Captain expressed it, of the "gallows fever." For some time his
knowledge of the country, and the partiality of the peasantry towards
him, aided him in evading the pursuit which was made after him; but a
traitor was found, and Grant was delivered into the hands of the
Philistines.
The gentry of the country, and ladies of the first rank, crowded to the
jail of Maryborough to see the "bold outlaw;" and it was supposed that
their impertinent curiosity so much affected his sensibility, that he
took his departure one night from prison, through a window, having first
contrived to cut the bars that guarded it.
Dreading another specimen of the rudeness of the Irish aristocracy, he
prudently resolved to leave the Slieve-bloom mountains, and with the
remnant of his banditti, he removed to the wood of Killoughram, in the
county of Wexford, within four miles of the town of Enniscorthy. Here he
continued for some time, and made frequent visits to the neighbouring
towns, where he was known by the name of Cooney.
In the March of 1816 he made a journey to his native county, where he
robbed the house of Thomas Cambie, Esq., of money and plate to a large
amount. Mrs. Cambie was at home, and he behaved with so much politeness,
that she ordered him supper and wine. The captain being impatient of
delay, applied his teeth to extract a cork from a bottle; upon which the
mistress observed "it was a pity to spoil his fine white teeth," and
immediately stood up and procured him a corkscrew. Grant, on his
departure, took the liberty of borrowing Mr. Cambie's horse and gig, in
which he rode to his retreat in the wood of Killoughram.
The Captain's occasional depredations in the county of Wexford excited
great alarm, for a robbery there then was a thing of very rare
occurrence. Notice was at length given of the banditti retreat, and
Archibald Jacob marched the military out of Enniscorthy and surrounded
the wood. Some of the soldiers and yeomanry penetrated the fastness, and
in the thickest part of the shade they discovered the "Robber Chief,"
and five of his followers, on a bed of straw, in a romantic cave. The
freebooters defended themselves with desperate valour, and before they
surrendered, wounded five of the military. After they were secured,
their retreat was found to contain all the necessary implements for
housebreaking, and abundance of arms. The captain was committed to
Wexford jail in the name of Cooney; but the evidence against him being
doubtful, it was apprehended that he would be acquitted, when,
unfortunately for him, it was discovered that he was the celebrated
Captain Grant. The jailor of Maryborough now claimed his body, and he
was forthwith transmitted to his former abode, only just in time, as it
was eventually found out, to prevent his again escaping from the jail in
which he was confined, in obedience to and in conformity with a plan
which had been matured, and which was to be put into operation on the
very night on which he was removed.
His trial came on at Maryborough, August the 16th 1816, when he was
found guilty of the burglary in Mr. Cambie's house. To the question
"What reason he had why judgment and sentence of death should not be
passed on him?" he replied in the most firm, collected, and, indeed,
feeling manner, "My lord, I only beg of the Court some short time to
arrange things before my departure for another place; not in the idle
hope of escape or pardon, but to make restitution to the persons who
have suffered by my bad line of life. I have been visited in my cell by
some blessed people, who have, thank God, given this turn to my mind,
and to which I implore your lordship's attention."
Sentence was then immediately passed upon him; but in obedience to his
request, his execution was deferred until the 29th of August, when he
met his fate with decent fortitude and pious resignation.
THOMAS CARSON.
CONVICTED OF MURDER.
The Irish are capital actors, but generally give to tragic parts a comic
effect. The following case of successful adroitness is only one out of
many such tricks played off in the prisons of the sister kingdom.
Thomas Carson and his brother John were tried at the Meath assizes, in
the spring of 1816, for the wilful murder of a man named Cassidy. The
Carsons belonged to a corps of yeomen; and being Protestants, they were
privileged to carry arms. Of these, however, they made a bad use, and
turned them against one of his Majesty's subjects, named Cassidy, whose
life they took away, through wanton cruelty, in Kilmainham Wood, in the
county of Meath. John was acquitted; but Thomas Carson was found guilty,
and ordered for execution on the following Friday morning, at one
o'clock.
At five o'clock on Friday morning a brother of the prisoner went to see
the unhappy culprit, and informed the jailor that Mr. Wainwright, the
clergyman, would attend in a short time to pray with and administer the
sacrament to his brother. The judge had, from humanity, directed that
his relations should have free access to the prisoner, so that his
brother was permitted to go into the condemned cell to him. Some time
after the jailor entered the cell, and said that the time was very
short, and if the clergyman was expected, they had better send for him.
The brother offered to go for him, and apparently retired. Shortly after
Mr. Wainwright came; and being shown into the cell, continued a long
time in prayer with the prisoner. The time of execution approaching, the
jailor came in, accompanied by the prisoner's uncle. The clergyman told
the prisoner he had no time to lose--that his uncle had come, and would
communicate with him in the administration of the sacrament. The
prisoner entreated to be allowed to pray a little longer, and appeared
absorbed in devotion. At length the jailor becoming quite impatient, he
rose from the straw on which he was kneeling, and welcomed his uncle.
The latter instantly exclaimed, "Good God! how grief has altered him!
this cannot be Tommy!" and looking nearer--"No," said he, "this is
Anthony Carson!" The clergyman was amazed--the jailor ran down stairs,
and discovered that the person whom he had sent for the clergyman was no
other than the convict himself, who had not thought proper to return.
Coming back into his cell, the jailor cried out, "Your brother is gone
off! what shall I do? I am ruined!"--"Gone off!" cried Anthony with
great surprise; "Oh, he has taken away my big coat."
The two brothers served in the same corps, and were so alike in
appearance that Anthony came to the prison in a frize great-coat, which
he gave to the convict, who, thus disguised, passed all the doors of the
prison, and walked deliberately into the street, from whence, in great
apparent affliction, he looked up at the preparation for execution, and
passed on as if to Mr. Wainwright's house.
Diligent search was made for the fugitive, but without effect. The
brother was detained, but the extent of his crime was a misdemeanour.
The case of this lucky prisoner clearly exemplified, in the language of
the prisoner about to receive judgment of death, that he did not believe
he was "safe in the hands" of his jailors.
The story runs thus:--An Irishman had been convicted of a robbery at the
Old Bailey sessions, for which he was brought up, with others at the
conclusion of the session, to receive judgment of death. The ready wit
and the natural disinclination of the Irish to give a straightforward
answer to a question, are universally known and admitted. The prisoner
in question on being called on by Mr. Shelton, the officer of the court,
in the usual way, to declare what he had to say why sentence of death
should not be passed upon him, advanced to the front of the dock with a
vacant stare, and inquired "What was the question?"
Mr. Shelton.--You have been convicted of robbery; what have you to say
why sentence of death shall not be passed upon you, according to law?
Prisoner.--Faith, I have nothing much to say, except that I do not think
I am safe in your hands.
The answer was received with a loud burst of laughter, which even the
melancholy nature of the scene could not prevent the learned recorder
from joining in. The gravity of the court was, however, soon again put
to the test. Sentence had been passed, and the prisoner was about to
retire from the bar, when he was unexpectedly called back by Mr.
Shelton, who demanded to know his age.
Prisoner.--Is it my age you mean?
Mr. Shelton.--What is your age?
Prisoner.--I believe I am pretty well as ould as ever I'll be.