THE PRESS-YARD
The press-yard described—Charges for admission—Extortionate
fees paid to turnkeys and governor—The latter's perquisites—
Arrival of Jacobite prisoners—Discussed by lower officials—
Preparations for them—Their appearance and demeanour—High
prices charged for gaol lodgings—They live royally—First
executions abate their gaiety—Escapes—Keeper superseded by
officials specially appointed by lord mayor—Strictness of new
_régime_—A military guard mounts—Rioting and revels among
the Jacobites once more checked by execution of members of the
party—Rumours of an amnesty—Mr. Freeman, who fired a pistol
in theatre when Prince of Wales was present, committed to
Press-yard—Freeman's violent conduct—Prisoners suffer from
overcrowding and heat—Pardons—Rob Roy in Newgate—Other
prisoners in press-yard—Major Bernardi—His history and long
detentions—dies in gaol after forty years' imprisonment.
The press-yard of the prison was intended especially for State
prisoners, or those incarcerated on "commitments of State," and was
deemed to be part and parcel of the governor's house, not actually
within the precincts of the prison. This was a pious fiction, put forth
as an excuse for exacting fees in excess of the amounts prescribed by
act of Parliament. A sum of twenty guineas was charged for admission
to this favoured spot; in other words, "for liberty of having room
enough to walk two or three of a breadth." "The gentlemen admitted here
are moreover under a necessity of paying 11_s._ each per week, although
two and sometimes three lie in a bed, and some chambers have three or
four beds in them." The act referred to specially provided that keepers
might not charge more than half a crown per week as rent for every
chamber.
This rule the governor of Newgate—for this haughty commander-in-chief
over defenceless men was styled by the same name as the constable of
the Tower—entirely ignored, and the prisoner committed to his custody
had to decide between submitting to the extortion, or taking up his
abode in the common gaol, where he had thieves and villains for his
associates, and was perpetually tormented and eaten up by distempers
and vermin.
The extortion practised about 1715 is graphically described by one who
endured it. The author of the "History of the Press-yard," after having
been mulcted on first arrival at the lodge for drink and "garnish,"
was, although presumably a State prisoner, and entitled to better
treatment, at once cast in the condemned hold. In this gruesome place,
he lay "seized with a panic dread" at the survey of his new tenement,
and willing to change it for another on almost any terms. "As this
was the design of my being brought hither, so was I made apprized of
it by an expected method; for I had not bewailed my condition more
than half an hour, before I heard a voice from above crying out from
a board taken out of my ceiling, which was the speaker's floor, 'Sir,
I understand your name is ——, and that you are a gentleman too well
educated to take up your abode in a vault set apart only for thieves,
parricides, and murderers. From hence criminals after sentence of
death are carried to the place of execution, and from hence you may
be removed to a chamber equal to one in any private house, where
you may be furnished with the best conversation and entertainment,
on a valuable consideration.'" The speaker went on to protest that
he acted solely from good-will; that he was himself a prisoner, and
had suffered at first in the same manner, but had paid a sum to be
removed to better quarters, and which he thanked God he enjoyed to his
heart's content, wanting for nothing that a gaol could afford him. The
victim begged to know the terms, and to be put in communication with
the proper officer to make a contract for release. The other promised
accordingly, and a quarter of an hour afterwards "clang went the chain
of my door and bolts, and in comes a gentleman-like man of very smiling
aspect," who apologized profusely, swearing that those who had ill-used
a gentleman in such an unhandsome manner should be well trounced
for it. "He moreover excused the want of suitable entertainment for
persons of condition in prison-houses, and assured me that I should
be immediately conducted to the governor's house, who would take all
imaginable care of my reception. After this he very kindly took me by
the hand to lead me down into the lodge, which I rightly apprehended as
a motive to feel my pulse, and therefore made use of the opportunity
to clap two pieces, which he let my hand go to have a fast grip of, in
his." His deliverer was the head turnkey, by name Bodenham Rouse, whom
he accompanied to the lodge, and there again stood drink and was his
firm friend.
The moment was one of considerable political excitement. The
Pretender's first attempt had collapsed in the north, and the
press-yard was about to be crowded with more eminent guests. Our
author is aroused one fine morning by loud joy-bells pealing from
the churches, and he immediately learns from his Jacobite companion
that the "king's affairs were ruined, and that the generals Willis
and Carpenter had attacked the Jacobite forces in Preston, and taken
all prisoners at discretion." Newgate is convulsed by the news.
Its officers are wild with delight, "calling for liquor after an
extravagant manner, and drinking to their good luck, which was to arise
from the ruin and loss of lives and fortunes in many good families."
In 1716 Mr. Pitt, the governor, appears upon the scene, accompanied
by other officials, to survey the rooms, and estimate the number of
new tenants that could be accommodated therein. All due preparations
made, a few days more brought to Newgate the unfortunate noblemen and
gentlemen who had surrendered at discretion, hoping thus, although
vainly, to save both life and estate. On their arrival in London they
were led in triumph through the streets to their respective places of
durance—viz., the Tower, the Marshalsea, Newgate, and the Fleet. The
prisoners on arrival at Highgate were met by Major-General Tarlton
with two battalions of Royal Foot Guards, completely armed. Cords were
also brought sufficient to pinion each prisoner after the manner of
condemned criminals, and to lead their horses, for each, from the lord
to the footman, was accommodated with a grenadier to that end. Thus
under safe conduct they marched from the Hill of Highgate to their
several places of confinement. The major-general led the way, being
"preceded by several citizens of more loyalty than compassion, who made
repeated huzzas to excite the mob to do the like." After the general
commanding came a company of the first regiment of Guards, who made a
very fine appearance. Then came the division for the Tower, two and
two, the Earl of Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington in the first rank,
the other lords and noblemen following with haltered horses, bound like
common malefactors, and reviled and hooted.
Those for Newgate brought up the rear. They were civilly and humanely
treated on arrival there. The prison officers received them under the
gateway, and no sooner were the prisoners alighted from their horses
and their names called over, than their cords were immediately cut from
their arms and shoulders, and refreshment of wine brought to them.
"Their number was about seventy," says our author. "And amongst them in
particular I could not but cast my eye upon one Mr. Archibald Bolair,
who in the sixteenth year of his age was said to have signalized his
courage, and have displayed as much skill and dexterity in feats
of arms in the battle of Preston as the oldest commander of them,
Brigadier Macintosh himself, though trained up in warlike affairs, not
excepted. What induced me to distinguish him from the rest was the
fearless way of expression he made use of when the clerk of the prison
cut his cords. 'By my soul, man,' said he, 'you should not have done
that, but kept it whole that I might either have been hanged with it,
or have it to show, if I escaped the gallows, how I had been led like a
dog in a string for twice two miles together.' Mr. Bolair then inquired
feelingly for his followers, who had been brought so many miles from
home out of observance of his orders, and he was anxious that they
should not want." Young Mr. Bolair was told off to the same room as our
author, in which two additional beds were placed, for the convenience
of the keeper, who by four beds in one room, filled each with three
tenants, got £6 per week, besides the sums paid as entrance money.
The prisoners included many persons of note. Two of them—Mr. Forster,
who thought himself slighted and ill-used because, in consideration of
his seat in Parliament, he had not been imprisoned in the Tower; and
Francis Anderson, esquire, commonly called Sir Francis, a gentleman
of £2,000 per annum—had apartments in the governor's house at £5 per
head per week. There were also Colonel Oxborough, Brigadier Macintosh,
the two Talbots, the Shaftos, Mr. Wogan, and Captain Menzies, who with
their adherents and servants were thrust into the worst dungeons,—such
as "the lion's den" and the "middle dark,"—till for better lodgment
they had advanced more money than would have rented one of the best
houses in Piccadilly or St. James's Square. The fee or premium paid
by Mr. Forster and Sir Francis Anderson for being accommodated in the
governor's house was £60, and it cost the latter twenty-five guineas
more to keep off his irons. Mr. Widdrington, Mr. Ratcliffe, and others
paid twenty guineas apiece for the like favour at their first coming
in; and every one that would not be turned to the common side, ten
guineas, besides one guinea and ten shillings per man for every week's
lodging, although in some rooms the men lay four in a bed. As the
result of these extortions it was computed that Mr. Pitt cleared some
£3,000 or £4,000 in three or four months, besides "valuable presents
given in private, and among others a stone horse."
Money was, however, plentiful among the incarcerated Jacobites, and so
far as was consistent with their situation, they lived right royally.
Sympathetic friends from without plied them with wines and luxurious
diet. They had every day a variety of the choicest eatables in season,
"and that too as early as the greatest and nicest ladies."[136:1] Forty
shillings for a dish of peas was nothing to their pockets, nor 13_s._
for a dish of fish. These, "with the best French wine, was an ordinary
regale." They "lived in this profuse manner, and fared so sumptuously
through the means of daily visitants and helps from abroad." Money
circulated plentifully within the prison. While it was difficult to
change a guinea at any house in the street, nothing was more easy than
to have silver for gold in any quantity in Newgate. Nor did many of
them lack female sympathy. Ladies of the first rank and quality, even
tradesmen's wives and daughters, "made a sacrifice of their husbands'
and parents' rings and precious movables for the use of those whom the
law had appointed to be so many sacrifices themselves." "It is not to
be supposed that a champion so noted for the cause as Captain Silk
was neglected; for he had his full share of those treats which soon
made his clothes too little for his corpse." When not feasting and
chambering, the prisoners found diversion in playing shuttlecock, "at
which noble game the valiant Forster beat all who engaged him, so that
he triumphed with his feather in the prison though he could not do it
in the field."[137:1]
"For long there was nothing among them but flaunting apparel, venison
pasties, hams, chickens, and other costly meats." But soon all their
jollity came abruptly to an end. The news of the sad fate of the two
peers Derwentwater and Kenmure, who had been brought to trial and
executed upon Tower Hill, abated their gaiety. They were yet more
unmistakably reminded of their perilous position by the notice which
now came to them to provide themselves with counsel and witnesses
for their own defence. Fresh committals, too, were made to Newgate;
prisoners were sent in from the Tower and the Fleet. Among them were
Mr. Howard, brother to the Duke of Norfolk, the Master of Nairn, Mr.
Baird Hamilton, "a gentleman who behaved with wonderful gallantry at
the action of Preston;" Mr. Charles Radcliffe, Lord Derwentwater's
brother, "a youth of extraordinary courage;" Mr. Charles and Mr.
Peregrine Widdington, "two gentlemen of diversion and pleasure, both
papists;" the two Mr. Cottons, father and son, "nonjurant Protestants,
and of great estate in Huntingdonshire;" Mr. Thomas Errington, "a
gentleman that had been in the French service, . . . with the laird of
Macintosh, Colonel McIntosh, and Major McIntosh, together with other
Scotch gentlemen."
Brought thus face to face with their very pressing danger, all more
or less cast about them for some means of escape. Several desperate
attempts were made to break prison. Thus on the 14th March, 1717, it
was discovered that several had tried to get out by breaking through
the press-yard wall, "from which they were to be let down by a rope,
instead of being tucked up by one at Tyburn." For this several were
placed in irons.
Some time later Mr. Forster got clean away, as did Brigadier Macintosh
and eight others. Mr. George Budden, formerly an upholsterer near Fleet
Bridge, also effected his escape; and last, but not least, Mr. Charles
Radcliffe, Lord Derwentwater's brother. After Mr. Forster's escape
the Government took greater precautions, and a lieutenant with thirty
men of the Foot Guards was ordered to do constant duty at Newgate.
Mr. Pitt, the keeper, was strongly suspected of collusion, and was
attached on a charge of high treason, being after arrested committed to
the custody of one Wilcox, a messenger, "who used him in a barbarous
manner, contrary, no doubt, to the instruction of the noble lord that
issued the warrant for his confinement." The city authorities, no doubt
exercised at the insecurity of their gaol, also roused themselves "to
look better after their prison of Newgate," and instead of leaving Mr.
Rouse chief turnkey in charge of the whole place, specially appointed
Mr. Carleton Smith, an officer of the lord mayor's, and with him Mr.
Russell, to take care of the rebels in the press-yard. These new
officials "performed their part so well," it is said, "by examining all
the visitors, debarring entrance to all riding-hoods, cloaks, and arms,
and by sitting up all night in the prison, each in his turn, that not
one man escaped from thence during their time."
The new keepers appear to have stirred up much animosity from their
punctual discharge of their duties. Mr. Russell, we read, shortly after
his appointment was very much abused and threatened by Captain Silk and
some of the rebels, who surrounded him in the press-yard, but he made
his retreat without any harm. There must have been some in the reigning
monarch's service with secret sympathies for the Pretender; for it is
recorded, May 14th, that "an officer of the guards with two others
conversed with the rebels all day." They were, moreover, humoursome
and abusive to the new keepers because of their care in looking after
their prisoners; whereof Messrs. Carleton Smith and Russell complained
to the lord mayor, who thereupon ordered that no officer should be
permitted to visit the prisoners without the express permission of the
Secretary of State; and next day it is stated the officer in fault was
"submissive and sorry for his offence." This was not the first offence
of the kind. A few days previous to this the officer of the guard
went in, contrary to custom, with his sword on, to see the prisoners.
He continued with them for some hours, and whether heated with wine
or otherwise, beat one of the turnkeys as he brought in a rebel from
trial. This officer was placed in arrest, and another mounted guard in
his place, who "prevented the drunkenness and other irregularities of
the soldiers which might have given the prisoners an opportunity to
escape."
Matters were not too comfortable for the military guard. The men at the
gate were liable to insults as on the 19th May, when they were reviled
by a Tory constable. They were also exposed to efforts to wean them
from their allegiance. One day Mr. Carleton Smith detected a prisoner,
Isaac Dalton,[140:1] in durance for libel, endeavouring to corrupt the
sentinels by giving them money to drink the Pretender's health. "But
he missed his aim." The soldiers heartily drank to King George in wine
supplied by Mr. Smith, and declared they would oppose the Pretender
to the last drop of their blood. All the guards were not equally
loyal, however. On another occasion the soldiers of the guard "had the
impudence to sing Captain Silk's dearly beloved tune, 'The king shall
have his own again,' for which their officer, Captain Reeve, a very
loyal gentleman, threatened them with imprisonment."
The peril of the prisoners bred a certain reckless turbulence among
them. On the 29th May a mob collected in great numbers outside,
carrying oaken boughs on pretence of commemorating the restoration. The
guard was reinforced, lest the mob should attempt to break open the
gaol. Inside the rebels were very noisy, and insulted their keepers;
"but they were soon put out of a capacity of doing much harm, for by
way of precaution they were all locked up before ten o'clock." This
hour of early closing was continued, and greatly resented by them. A
few days later they made a great disturbance at the sound of a bell set
up by order of the lord mayor to ring them to their apartments at the
regular hour. They asked for the order. It was read to them, to their
manifest dissatisfaction, for it referred the recent escapes to the
unaccountable liberty of indulgence permitted them, and insisted that
upon the ringing of the bell in question all should betake themselves
to their apartments. Ten was the hour of retiring "at farthest;"
any infringement of the rule would be followed by the deprivation
of all freedom, and double irons for the offenders. Except Captain
Silk, however, all acquiesced in the order. He alone, "with his usual
impudence, bullied the keeper, and made many unbecoming reflections
upon the lord mayor and sheriffs." Nor did insubordination end here. A
day or two later the lord mayor's notice, which had been posted up in
the various press-yard rooms, was torn down by the rebels in contempt
of authority.
A fresh and more serious riot soon occurred in the streets, on the
occasion of the thanksgiving on the anniversary of Preston fight.
Several visitors came to the rebels with rue and thyme in their hats
and bosoms in contempt of the day; but the new keepers made bold
to strip them of their badges and strew the floors with them, "as
more worthy to be trodden underfoot than be worn by way of insult on
that glorious day." About midnight brickbats were thrown from the
neighbouring houses upon the soldiers on guard; and the guard in
retaliation fired up at the places whence came the attack. Mr. Carleton
Smith whose turn it was to sit up, feared some attempt was being
made to break the gaol, and "leaping out to know the occasion of the
firing, searched several of the houses; in doing which he was like to
have been shot by a ball which came up to the room where he was." But
the attachment of the rebels to their cause was not to be checked. It
broke out again on the 10th June, the anniversary of the Pretender's
birth. "Captain Booth, whose window looked into Phœnix Court, was so
insolent as to put out a great bunch of white roses at his window," and
several visitors of both sexes came wearing the same rebellious badges.
But again the keepers pulled them out and threw them on the floor.
In all these disturbances Captain Silk was a ringleader. He is
continually ready to make a noise. Now he swears revenge upon the
keeper for not allowing supper to be carried in to him and his
"conrogues" after 10 P. M.; now he incites other prisoners to
riot. "They are for the most part very drunk and rude, so that it was
with great difficulty that they were got to their rooms by one o'clock
in the morning." Next day Captain Silk continues his insolence. He
threatens Mr. Smith for refusing to pass in visitors after regulated
hours. Again he and his companions are drunk and insolent, and cannot
be got to their rooms till the same late hour. A night or two later
they crowded about the doors when they were opened, cursing and
assaulting the person who rang the night-bell. Captain Silk, as before,
encouraged them, and to provoke them further, when the bell sounded
cried out, "Get up, ye slaves, and go."
Sadder moments soon supervened. The trials were proceeding, and already
the law had condemned several. Among the first to suffer were Colonel
Oxborough and Mr. Gascoigne: the latter was offered his pardon on
conditions which he rejected, and both began to make great preparations
for "their great change." Colonel Oxborough, who lay in the condemned
hold, behaved with an astonishing serenity of mind; and when his
friends expressed their concern in tears, he gravely rebuked them,
showing an easiness very unaccustomed in the bravest minds under such
a sentence. Next an order of the court came down for the execution
of twenty-four more who had been condemned, and "universal sorrow"
prevailed in the gaol. Parson Paul,[144:1] one of the number, was
"so dejected he could not eat;" most of the other prisoners retired
to their apartments to vent their grief, and a vast number of their
friends in tears came to condole with them. After this all were busy
with petitions to the court. Some were immediately successful. Handsome
young Archibald Bolair was discharged, "at which Lady Faulconbridge,
his supposed benefactress, went out with a smiling countenance." Next
night he returned in his kilt to visit his friends, but was denied
entrance. That same midnight there were great shouts of joy in the
prison: a reprieve had come down for all but Parson Paul and Justice
Hall,[144:2] both of whom were led next day to Tyburn. Neither would
admit the ministrations of the ordinary, to whom they "behaved rudely,"
and they were attended at the place of execution by priests of their
own stamp in a lay habit. The condemned were hardened to the highest
degree, says their implacable opponent, and gave free vent to their
treason in seditious speeches at the gallows.
Great consternation prevailed after these executions. It was greatly
increased by the known displeasure of the Government at the demeanour
of some of the condemned at Tyburn. But the king (George I) was now
gone on a visit to Hanover; and the Prince of Wales, as regent, was
pleased to put an end to the further effusion of blood. Rumours of an
Act of Indemnity were spread abroad, and abundance of visitors came to
congratulate the prisoners on their approaching release. But the happy
day being still postponed, the Jacobites became turbulent once more;
Mr. Pitt, the old governor, who had been tried for neglect in allowing
Mr. Forster and others to escape, had been acquitted, upon which the
lord mayor and sheriffs recalled Messrs. Carleton Smith and Russell.
The latter delivered up their charge, "having performed it so well that
not one prisoner had escaped." But Mr. Pitt was again unfortunate; and
suffering another man (Flint) to escape, the court of aldermen resolved
to reinstate Smith and Russell. This gave great dudgeon to the rebels
in the press-yard, who soon proved very refractory, refusing to be
locked up at the proper time. Then they made bitter reflections on the
advice given to the new keepers in the _Flying Post_, a Whiggish organ,
who were, as the author of the "Secret History" observes sarcastically,
"so inhuman, that they would let none of the rebels make their escape,
either in the habits of women, footmen, or parsons." It was difficult
for the keepers not to give cause of offence. Their prisoners were
angry with them because they would not sit down and drink with
them, as did their former keepers, even upon the bribe offered when
the indemnity loomed large, of swallowing a bumper to King George.
Captain Silk was troublesome as ever. One Sunday he cursed and swore
prodigiously because the doors had been shut during divine service, and
his roaring companions could not have access to him. Another time the
prisoners insulted the keepers, asking them why they carried arms? The
Jacobites declared they could not endure the sight since the battle of
Preston.
Another prisoner added greatly to the trials of the keepers about this
period. This was Mr. Freeman, who was committed for firing a pistol
in the playhouse when the prince was present. Freeman was continually
intoxicated when in gaol. He was also very mischievous, and kept a
burning candle by him the greater part of the night, to the danger of
the prison, especially when in his mad freaks. "He is a lusty, strong,
raw-boned man, has a stern, dogged look, is of an obstinate temper
when vexed, but fawning and treacherous when pleased." In a day of
two Freeman showed the cloven foot. He flew into a violent passion,
and beat one of the female servants of the prison, shutting the door
against the keepers, after he had wounded one of them with a fork
which he held in one hand, having a knife and pistol in the other. He
was overpowered, and carried to the condemned hold, where he was put
in irons. His villainous designs there appeared by his setting his
handkerchief alight, and concealing it in his hat near his bed, and
it was suspected that he wished to set the gaol on fire, so that the
prisoners might have the opportunity to escape. A day later Mr. Freeman
"regretted that he had not murdered his keeper in the last scuffle;"
and the same day Mr. Menzies and Mr. Nairn did honestly tell the
keepers that the prisoners meant to injure them, Freeman's disturbance
having been raised "chiefly to that end, and that the female servant he
only pretended to assault, so as to make her cry out murder before she
was in the least hurt."
Royal clemency was still delayed, and the advancing summer of 1717 was
intensely hot. The close confinement of so many persons in a limited
space began to tell seriously on the prisoners. A spotted fever,
which had before shown itself with evil effects, reappeared. It had
proved fatal to Mr. Pitcairn the previous August, and in the winter
Mr. Butler had died of the same. Now it carried off Mr. Kellet, Sir
Francis Anderson's man. Mr. Thornton was also attacked, but through the
care of his doctors recovered. The following month Mr. David Drummond
died, and Mr. Ratcliffe was indisposed. It was generally feared that
the distemper would become contagious; whereupon some of the principal
inmates, among them Mr. Ratcliffe, the two Mr. Widdingtons, Mr. Murray,
and Mr. Seaton, "who is styled by them the Earl of Dumferline,"
petitioned the prince regent and Council for enlargement to more
commodious prisons. The king's physicians were accordingly despatched
to the prison to inquire into its sanitary condition. Their report was
that no contagious distemper existed. The matter was therefore ordered
to stand until his Majesty's pleasure should be known at his arrival
from Hanover. George I soon afterwards returned, and signified his
orders for an Act of Grace, which duly passed both Houses of Parliament.
The news of an amnesty was joyfully received in the press-yard. One
of the first acts of the prisoners so soon to be set free was to get
in a poor fiddler, "whom they set to play tunes adapted to their
treasonable ballads; . . . but this was so shocking to the keepers that
they turned the fiddler out." Next the prisoners had a badger brought
in, and baited him with dogs. Other already pardoned rebels came and
paid ceremonious visits, such as Mr. Townley, who appeared with much
pomp and splendour after his discharge from the Marshalsea. Several
clergymen also visited, and a noted common council man, whose friends
stood a bowl of punch that night in Captain Silk's room. The State
prisoners were soon "very busy in getting new rigging, and sending
away their boxes and trunks; so that they looked like so many people
removing from their lodgings and houses on quarter-day."
On July 4th a member of Parliament came to assure Mr. Grierson that
the Act of Indemnity would surely pass in a few days. This occasioned
great joy. A fortnight later the pardon was promulgated, and all the
prisoners remaining were taken to Westminster to plead the Act, "where
many were so very ungrateful that they refused to kneel or speak out in
asking the king's pardon till they were forced to it."
According to this last-quoted writer, the rebels in Newgate were not
of exemplary character. Their daily practice in prison was profane
swearing, drunkenness, gluttony, gaming, and lasciviousness. That such
was permitted speaks volumes as to the shameful negligence of prison
rule in those unsettled times.
There were other rebel prisoners, who do not seem to have benefited
by this Act of Grace, and who remained much longer in prison. It is
recorded in the _Weekly Journal_, of January 24th, 1727, that George
I had pardoned another batch of Jacobites, who had been capitally
convicted in the first year of his reign for levying war against
him. The pardoned traitors were Robert Stuart, of Appin; Alexander
Macdonald, of Glencoe; Grant, of Glenmorrison; Maclimmin, of that
Ilk; Mackenzie, of Fairburn; Mackenzie, of Dachmalnack; Chisholm, of
Shatglass; Mackenzie, of Ballumakie; MacDougal, of Lorne; and two
others, more notable than all the rest, "James, commonly called Lord,
Ogilvie," and "Robert Campbell, _alias_ Macgregor, commonly called Rob
Roy." They had been under durance in London, for it is added that "on
Tuesday last they were carried from Newgate to Gravesend, to be put on
shipboard for transportation to Barbadoes." Rob Roy marching handcuffed
to Lord Ogilvie through the London streets from Newgate to the prison
barge at Blackfriars, and thence to Gravesend, is an incident that has
escaped the notice of Walter Scott, and all of Rob's biographers. The
barge-load of Highland chiefs, and of some thieves, seems, however, to
have been pardoned, and allowed to return home.
Before leaving the press-yard some reference must be made to certain
political "suspects" who were lodged therein for terms varying from
nineteen to forty years. Their case is remarkable, as being the last
instance of the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act in England,
with the full knowledge and sanction of Parliament, and in spite of
repeated strongly urged petitions from the prisoners for release.
Their names were John Bernardi, Robert Cassilis, Robert Meldrum,
Robert Blackburne, and James Chambers. Of these, the first-named, Major
Bernardi, has told his own story in a volume penned in Newgate, and
"printed by J. Newcomb, in the Strand, for the benefit of the author,
1729." Macaulay is disposed to discredit the version given by Bernardi,
although there is a certain air of truthfulness in the prisoner's
narrative. Bernardi begins at the beginning. He was of Italian
extraction, he tells us. His ancestors had been in the diplomatic
service. Count Philip de Bernardi, his grandfather, came to England
with a Genoese embassy. Francis Bernardi, son of the former, and father
of Major John, was also accredited to Charles II on the restoration,
but when replaced as resident, being English born, he preferred to
live and die in the land of his birth. According to his son, he was a
stern parent, ready to award him penal treatment, with imprisonment for
trifles, "in a little dark room or dungeon, allowing only bread and
small beer when so confined." By and by John ran away from home, and
through the favour of Lady Fisher was employed as a "listed soldier" in
a company at Portsmouth when barely fifteen years of age. A year or two
later his godfather, Colonel Anselme, took him to the Low Countries,
where by gallant conduct in the wars he gained an ensigncy from the
Prince of Orange. At the siege of Maestricht he lost an eye, and was
badly wounded in the arm. When scarcely twenty he was promoted to a
lieutenancy, and eight years later obtained a company in Colonel Monk's
regiment. He was now, by his own account, arrived "at a high pitch of
fortune." He was a captain at twenty-seven in an established service,
was personally well known to the Prince of Orange (afterwards William
III), had married well, and was, with his wife's fortune, in the
receipt of "a considerable income."
James II, on coming to the throne, summoned home all English officers
in the service of the States. Among the few who obeyed was Major
Bernardi, and he then gave up, as he says, a certainty for an
uncertainty. Very soon his former chief, the Prince of Orange, replaced
James upon the throne, and Bernardi, unfortunately for himself,
thereafter espoused the wrong side. He refused to sign the "association
put about by General Kirk," under which all officers bound themselves
to stand by William "against all persons whomsoever," and proceeded to
France to throw in his lot with the exiled king. When James embarked
for Ireland, Bernardi followed in command of a party of newly organized
adherents. He was at several of the engagements in that island, and
was presently commissioned major. After that he went to the Highlands
with Seaforth Mackenzie on a special mission, and on his return had the
honour of dining at the same table with King James. A second mission
to Scotland followed, after which Bernardi made his way south, and
escaping great perils by the way, reached London, meaning, when he
had disposed of horses and effects, to cross over to Flanders. At
Colchester, however, from which he hoped to reach easily a port of
embarkation, he was seized and committed on suspicion, first to the
town gaol, then to that of Chelmsford. After being much harassed he at
length obtained his release, only to be soon involved in still greater
trouble.
To his great misfortune he now fell in with one Captain Rookwood. It
was about the time of the discovery of the assassination plot, of which
Major Bernardi declares that he was in absolute ignorance till he heard
of it like the rest of the world. He was by chance in the company of
Captain Rookwood at a tavern, and was with him arrested on suspicion
of being "evil-minded men." While in the Compter Rookwood incautiously
revealed his own identity, and was lost. Rookwood seems at the same
time to have unintentionally betrayed Bernardi, whose name had, it
appears, and in spite of his protestations of perfect innocence, been
included in a proclamation. The inference is that the Government was in
the possession of certain information that Bernardi was mixed up in the
plot.[153:1] Both men were carried before the Council, and committed
close prisoners to Newgate, "loaded with heavy irons, and put into
separate dismal, dark, and stinking apartments." Rookwood was speedily
condemned and executed at Tyburn. Bernardi remained in prison without
trial, until after Sir John Fenwick had suffered. Then with his fellow
prisoners he was taken to the Old Bailey to be bailed out, but at the
instance of the Treasury solicitor, who "whispered the judges upon
the bench," they were relegated to Newgate, and a special act passed
rapidly through the House to keep them for another twelvemonth on the
plea of waiting for further evidence against them. A second act was
passed prolonging the imprisonment for another year; then a third,
to confine them during the king's pleasure. On the death of the king
(William III), a fresh act extended the imprisonment during the reign
of Queen Anne. During this long lapse of time repeated applications
were made to judges, but the release of the prisoners was always
bitterly opposed by the law officers. Bernardi's doctors certified that
imprisonment was killing him; he was said to suffer from fits and the
constant trouble of an old wound. Nevertheless he lived on; and when
in his sixty-eighth year he married, in Newgate, a second, "virtuous,
kind, and loving wife, who proved a true helpmeet," supporting him
by her good management, and keeping his heart from breaking in the
"English Bastile." Bernardi had ten children born in Newgate of this
second wife. The imprisonment continued through the reigns of George I
and II. Frequent petitions were unheeded, and finally Bernardi died in
Newgate in 1736, the last survivor, after forty years' incarceration,
and aged eighty-two.
FOOTNOTES:
[136:1] "Secret History of the Rebels in Newgate: giving an account of
their daily behaviour from their commitment to their gaol delivery."
Taken from "the diary of a gentleman in the same prison"—one who was
evidently no particular admirer of theirs.
[137:1] It will be remembered that Mr. Forster's want of generalship
lost the battle of Prestonpans.
[140:1] For this Dalton was convicted and fined fifty marks, with
imprisonment for one year, also to find security for three more years.
[144:1] Parson Paul was the Rev. William Paul, M. A., vicar of
Orton-on-the-Hill, in Leicestershire. He met the rebels at Preston,
and performed service there, praying for the Pretender as King James
the Third. When the royal troops invested Preston, Mr. Paul escaped
"in coloured clothes, a long wig, a laced hat, and a sword by his
side." He came to London, and was recognized in St. James's Park by a
Leicestershire magistrate, who apprehended him, and he was committed to
Newgate.
[144:2] One of the Halls of Otterburn, Northumberland, and a magistrate
for the county. He joined the Pretender early, and was one of his most
active and staunch supporters.
[153:1] According to the deposition of Harris, the informer, Bernardi
came with Rookwood to London on purpose to meet Barclay, the chief
conspirator.