THE SHIP STREET DIAMOND--SECOND-HAND PLATE--THE SILVER SLAB--LAW'S
WINDOW--OLD NEWGATE.
I have already mentioned that old Skinner Row contained a considerable
number of establishments belonging to goldsmiths and jewellers.
Pre-eminent amongst them was one kept, in the early part of the present
century, by Matthew West, who realised an ample fortune there, and
attained to high civic distinctions in Dublin. His concern was
celebrated for an extensive assortment of jewelry, and for the tasteful
and correct execution of orders specially relative to the setting of
precious stones. When such were brought to be cleaned, arranged, or set,
the owner was required to state the value which he attached to the
property, and to sign such statement on the back of the receipt given
for the articles. Mr. West gave considerable employment, especially in
gem-setting, to a man named Delandre, who occupied the upper part of a
house in Great Ship Street, in front of the ground on which the church
of St. Michael le Pole formerly stood, and over the yard of which the
windows of his working-room opened. A narrow passage led from the street
under the house to a building in the rere, and a high wall separated
this passage from the old cemetery. The top of the wall was thickly
studded with broken glass, to prevent trespasses. In the year 1811, a
gentleman called on Mr. West, and produced a diamond to which he
attached considerable value, and which he wished to have set in a
peculiar style. His order was taken, and a receipt was given for the
stone, with an endorsement of its value at £950. Delandre was sent for,
and received the diamond, with directions for the setting, and with an
injunction to be expeditious. He took it to his work-room, and, the
weather being very warm, the window close to his bench had been opened.
He was using heavy pressure of the diamond against the material in which
it was to be set, when either the tool or the gem slipped, and the
latter flew out of the opened window. Instantly alarming his family, he
watched the passage and the yard until means were adopted to prevent the
entrance of any strangers. Then the passage was swept, and the sweepings
were sifted. The surface of the old cemetery, for a considerable space,
was similarly treated, the top of the wall was brushed carefully, and a
tombstone in which a fissure was observed was raised and examined; but
all the searching was fruitless. Finally, Delandre had to betake himself
to Mr. West, and communicate the disastrous loss of the valuable jewel.
Extraordinary as was the statement, Mr. West did not discredit the
workman, in whose probity he placed great confidence. He undertook to
afford constant employment to Delandre and to his son, but stipulated
that an insurance should be effected on the life of the former, and that
weekly deductions should be made from their earnings, so as to provide
for the premium on the insurance policy, and form a reserve for the
value of the diamond. Delandre scrupulously observed his engagements. He
had full employment from West, and although he was working, as he termed
it, "for a dead horse," he kept his hands busy and his heart light.
Each year lessened his liabilities, and at length, having paid for the
diamond, he received an assignment of the policy of insurance, for the
ultimate benefit of his family. He had grown old and rather feeble, but
still, in conjunction with his son, attended industriously to his trade.
Mr. West had died, and I, who had been a schoolboy when the diamond was
lost, had become a magistrate of the Head Police Court of Dublin. In my
younger days I had often heard of the Ship Street diamond, and the
various accounts of its loss were occasionally exaggerated immensely in
reference to its size and value. In 1842 some much-needed repairs were
in progress at the rere of Delandre's dwelling. Whitewashing and
plastering were intended, and the top of the wall between the yard and
passage was to be re-glassed. Old Delandre had gone out to buy some
provisions, and on his return he was accosted by one of the workmen who
had been removing the glass from the wall, and who showed him a
_curiosity_ which he had found. Delandre did not require a second look
to satisfy himself that it was the long-lost gem. Amongst the glass
which had been on the wall there was the neck of a pint bottle, which
had been placed in the plaster with the mouth downwards, and it had
formed the trap in which the diamond had been caught on falling from the
window. Delandre gave the finder a liberal reward; but with a laudable
anxiety to remove all suspicion of a sinister nature from himself, he
had the discovery of the diamond made the subject of a solemn
declaration, which the finder subscribed before me in the Head Police
Court. The loss of the gem had been eventually highly advantageous to
the man, by whom it was at first very naturally considered a great
calamity. It had induced him to adopt a life of strict economy and
industry, which easier circumstances would not have suggested or
enforced.
SECOND-HAND PLATE.
The same Mr. West to whom the last incident referred had a handsome
private residence in Harcourt Street, and he was known habitually to
place an unlimited confidence in the care and discretion of his wife, to
leave large sums in her custody, and to approve of or acquiesce in the
investments to which she might apply such moneys. Her management fully
justified his confidence, and he made no secret of the course he had
adopted or of the satisfactory results it produced. In 1817 he had
arrived one morning in Skinner Row, when a livery servant, of very
stylish appearance, entered and enquired, "Had Captain Wilson been
there?" Mr. West replied that "he had not the pleasure of knowing
Captain Wilson;" and then the servant stated, that "his master, Captain
Marmaduke Wilson, intended to purchase some plate, and had ordered him
to go to Mr. West's, and await his arrival there." He added, "He is a
fine-looking man, but he has lost his right arm at Waterloo. I have to
deliver a message in Dame Street. You will easily know him when he
comes; and please to tell him that I shall be back in about ten
minutes." The servant departed, and very soon after his master made his
appearance. A complete _militaire_, he displayed moustaches, a Waterloo
ribbon, and a frogged frock-coat; but the right sleeve was empty from
the elbow, and the cuff was looped up to the breast. He inquired for the
servant, and seemed a little dissatisfied at the fellow's absence. He
then proceeded to inform Mr. West that he was about to fix his residence
on a property which he held in the county of Monaghan, and that he
wished to unite economy with respectability in his domestic
arrangements. He had heard that Mr. West's stock of second-hand plate
was very ample, and wished to purchase some on which the crestings could
be obliterated and the Wilson crest substituted, producing at the same
time a silver snuff-box, on which a crest was engraved, with the
initials of Marmaduke Wilson beneath it. The servant had returned, and
accompanied his master through the warerooms, conducted by the
proprietor, who succeeded in displaying tea services, salvers, &c.,
which met with Captain Wilson's approval, provided the prices were
lower. The demands were reduced considerably, as the customer urged that
it was a dealing for "cash down." The charges amounted to one hundred
and forty pounds, when the Captain said "he would not go any further for
the present," and requested Mr. West to have the plate packed in a
basket which the servant had brought, in order that Mrs. Wilson might
see the articles before the crests were altered. The silver was directed
to be treated as he desired, and he then turned to Mr. West and said,
"You must be my amanuensis, and write the order to Mrs. Wilson for the
cash. I shall send my man for the money, and when he brings it, you will
let him have the basket." Mr. West took the pen, and wrote, at the
Captain's dictation--
"DEAR MARIA,
"I have bought some second-hand plate, of which, I think, you will
approve. Send me, by bearer, £140."
He added--"Just put my initials, M. W. Is it not very curious, Mr. West,
that our initials are the same?" He then took the pen in his left hand,
and made a rough kind of small semicircle in the left-hand corner, which
he designated his private mark. "Now," said he to the servant, "make all
haste to your mistress, get the money, and fetch it here. I shall wait
until you return, for you have not far to go." The servant departed, and
the Captain remained for about twenty minutes, and seemed very impatient
at the fellow's delay. He expressed an opinion that perhaps his wife had
gone out, and said that he would take a car and see what caused the
delay, adding, "When he brings you the cash you can let him have the
hamper." The Captain then departed. The servant did not come for the
plate, and it remained packed and ready for delivery on the arrival of
the purchase money. Late in the afternoon Mr. West went home, and having
dined, was asked by his wife, "What second-hand plate was it that you
bought to-day?" "I bought none," he replied, "but I sold some, and it
was to have been taken away at once, but I suppose it will be sent for
to-morrow." "And why," enquired Mrs. West, "did you send to me for one
hundred and forty pounds? Here is your note, which a servant in livery
brought, and I gave him the money."
The swindle was complete. The basket was never called for, nor could the
defrauded party ever obtain any trace of the Waterloo Captain or of his
livery servant. The reader need not suppose that the veteran delinquent
was minus an arm. He was "made up" for the part which he was to play in
the deliberate and deeply-planned villainy, and in all probability he
had both his hands in full use, to take off his moustache and frogged
coat in a few minutes after leaving Mr. West's premises. The transaction
excited much interest and some merriment. It afforded a subject for one
of Burke Bethel's jokes. He said that whether the captain reappeared or
not, he could never be designated otherwise than as _off-handed_ in his
dealings with Mr. West.
THE SILVER SLAB.
There was another Dublin establishment in the gold, silver, and jewelry
trade, and also belonging to a Mr. West. It was in Capel Street. I may
mention an incident connected with it of a very extraordinary nature.
There were mills at Chapelizod, near Dublin, kept by a Mr. M'Garry, in
which he had very powerful machinery for rolling metals. He was
frequently employed to roll silver for Mr. West. In the year 1829, a
silver slab, valued at £27, was delivered to his carrier at Capel
Street, and the usual receipt was given for it. The slab was to be
rolled into a silver sheet; but when the vehicle in which it had been
placed arrived at Chapelizod, the article was not to be found. In
appearance it was not bright, having lain in store for some time after
being cast. Advertisements and enquiries failed to discover it, and Mr.
M'Garry paid its value to the owner. In 1845, it was brought to a
silversmith named Chapman, on Essex Quay, and offered for sale. Chapman
stopped the article, and gave the bearer of it into custody. On an
investigation before me, it appeared that a shoemaker who lived in
Leixlip had found it on the road and taken it home with him. He never
suspected that it was silver. He considered it to be pewter or zinc, and
it was used for the purposes of a lapstone for sixteen years. How the
person in whose possession it was found had ascertained its real quality
did not appear, but he had purchased it from the shoemaker for
half-a-crown. West's and M'Garry's books coincided as to the nature of
the article, its value, and the time of its loss. The old slab was
adjudged to M'Garry, who at once sold it to Chapman for the price he
offered, £22. The shoemaker expressed deep, and certainly sincere regret
that he had never suspected the real value of his lapstone. His only
consolation was, that the roguish fellow who induced him to sell it for
half-a-crown, lost two shillings and sixpence by the bargain.
LAW'S WINDOW.
Whilst shops profusely stocked with articles of the precious metals and
with costly jewels attract affluent and even extravagant customers, they
also afford immense temptations to thieves and swindlers. No
establishment in Dublin was superior in any respect to that in Sackville
Street belonging to Mr. Law. On each side of the entrance there was a
window, consisting of a single sheet of glass, inside of which a most
magnificent display of costly plate, gems, and watches tacitly demanded
and obtained the admiration of all spectators. In the year 1847, and in
the afternoon of a pleasant May day, an elderly gentleman stood at the
window next the corner of Eden Quay, and gazed with delight on the
various splendid and tasteful productions inside. He had an umbrella,
which he carried beneath his arm in a horizontal position, and with the
ferule end unluckily too near the costly sheet of glass. A young fellow
came rapidly running along the footway, and violently jostled the
respectable admirer of the splendid contents of the window. The glass
was smashed by the point of the umbrella, and the mischief resulting
from the collision only imparted greater celerity to the jostler's
movements. He fled down Eden Quay, and was almost instantly out of
sight. Mr. Law was in his shop, and along with some of his assistants
seized on the proprietor of the intruding umbrella. The old gentleman
demurred to the imputed liability, and ascribed all the mischief to the
ruffian who had rushed against him. Law was persistent, and demanded
nine pounds for his fractured glass. He threatened to give the old
gentleman in charge to the police. The latter became very indignant and
excited, used extremely strong language, and even applied opprobrious
epithets to those by whom he was detained. He said that he was a
stranger, just arrived from England, to transact some affairs of
importance connected with the purchase of extensive properties in the
west of Ireland. He warned Law that he would bring an action, and look
for ample damages, if he were not permitted to depart. He stated his
name to be James Ridley, and that his residence was in Lincoln's Inn
Fields, London. Finding that Law was about to send for a constable, he
produced a Bank of England note for £100, and told the "obdurate
scoundrel" to take the cost of his window out of that, but _at his
peril_. Law disregarded the threat, deducted nine pounds, and gave £91
to Mr. Ridley, who departed, vowing vengeance. However, no proceedings
were instituted, and subsequent enquiries after James Ridley in
Lincoln's Inn Fields resulted in no such person being known there. _The
£100 note was a forgery._
OLD NEWGATE.
Towards the close of the last century, a gaol for the city of Dublin was
built, and its appearance had a great tendency to deter any person from
incurring the liability of becoming an inmate. Its soot-begrimed walls
and rusty portal completely falsified its designation of Newgate, and
its front constituted a considerable portion of a locality, the aspect
of which suggested no idea of verdure, although it was called Green
Street. It was a place replete with fatal memories, very few of which
are worthy of being evoked, and it has been completely taken down. The
sons of the gentleman who was governor more than fifty years ago were my
schoolmates, and my associations with them made me acquainted with some
incidents which may be worthy of narration. When Oliver Bond was under
sentence of death for treason; and whilst there was the strongest
probability that the law would take its course, he was permitted, during
the day-time, to occupy an upper apartment, the door of which was partly
of glass. Mrs. Bond was as much with him as the rules of the prison
allowed, and was sitting in the room on the day when Mr. Michael William
Byrne was executed as a united Irishman. The fatal procession had to
pass close by the door of Bond's apartment; and as it approached, Mr.
Byrne remarked to the sheriff, that Mrs. Bond would be greatly shocked
by seeing a person pass to that scaffold on which her husband expected
to suffer. Mr. Byrne then suggested that they should stoop and creep
noiselessly by the door, so as to escape her observation. His wish was
complied with, and on reaching the drop, he turned to the sheriff, and
remarked, with an air of great satisfaction, "we managed that extremely
well." This spontaneous solicitude to spare the feelings of an afflicted
female, will aptly class with that of the gallant Count Dillon, who was
one of the earliest victims of the Reign of Terror in France, and who,
when he arrived at the guillotine, was requested by a female
fellow-sufferer, to precede her, upon which the _preux chevalier_
saluted her with courtly grace, and stepped forward, saying, "anything
to oblige a lady."
In one of the back yards of Newgate, to the right of the entrance, was
the place of confinement for the condemned, the walls of which exhibited
initials, sometimes entire names of unhappy occupants. One, who suffered
the extreme penalty of the law nearly sixty years ago, for forging
notes of the Bank of Ireland, pencilled the following lines on the door
of his cell:--
"Unhappy wretch, whom Justice calls
To bide your doom within these walls,
Know that to thee this gloomy cell
May prove, perhaps, the porch of Hell.
Thy crimes contest, thy sins forgiven,
Mysterious change! it leads to heaven."
It is to be hoped that the soul of the poor prisoner experienced the
"mysterious change" which his untimely fate led him so fully to
appreciate.