John Molony was an Irishman likewise, born at Dublin and sent to sea
when very young. He served in the fleets which during the late Queen's
reign sailed into the Mediterranean, and happening to be on board a ship
which was lost, he with some other sailors, was called to a very strict
account for that misfortune, upon some presumption that they were
accessory thereto. Afterwards he sailed in a vessel of war which was
fitted out against the pirates, and had therein so good luck that if his
inclinations had been honest, he might certainly have settled very
handsomely in the world. But that was far from his intention; he liked a
seaman's pleasures, drinking and gaming, and when on shore, lewd women,
the certain methods of being brought to such ways of getting money as
end in a shameful death.
When abroad, his adventures were not many, because he had little
opportunity of going on shore, yet one happened in Sicily which made a
very great impression upon him, and which it may not therefore be
improper to relate. There were two merchants at Palermo, both young men,
and perfectly skilled in the arts of traffic; they had had a very
liberal education, and had been constant friends and companions
together. The intimacy they had so long continued was cemented by their
marriage with two sisters. They lived very happily for the space of
about two years, and in all probability might have continued to do so
much longer, had not the duenna who attended one of their wives, died,
and a new one been put in her place. Not knowing the young ladies'
brothers, upon their speaking to them at Church, she gave notice of it
to the husband of her whom she attended, and he immediately posting to
his neighbour, the woman told them both that their wives,
notwithstanding all she could say, were talking to two well-dressed
cavaliers, which the duenna who waited on the other, notwithstanding the
duties of her post, saw without taking any notice. This so exasperated
the jealousy of the Sicilians that without more ado they ran to the
church, and meeting with their spouses coming out from thence with an
air of gaiety, seized them, and stabbed them dead with a little dagger,
which for that purpose each had concealed under his coat. Then flying
into the church for sanctuary, they discovered their mistake, when one
of them, seized with fury at the loss of a wife of whom he was so
extravagantly fond, stabbed the other, though not mortally, and with
many repeated wounds murdered the duenna, whose rash error had been the
occasion of spilling so much blood.
Upon Molony's return to England, he was totally out of all business,
and minded nothing but haunting the gaming tables, living on the
charity of his fortunate countrymen when his luck was bad, and relieving
them, in turn, when he had a favourable run at dice. It was at one of
these houses that he became acquainted with Carrick, and the likeness of
their tempers creating a great intimacy, after a short knowledge of one
another they joined with Carrol, a fellow as wicked as themselves, but
much more cruel, and were all concerned in that robbery for which
Carrick and Molony died.
When these two criminals came to be tried at the Old Bailey, their
behaviour was equally ludicrous, silly and indecent; affecting to rally
the evidence that was produced against them, and to make the people
smile at their premeditated bulls. Carrick, was a lean, fair man, and
stood at the left hand corner of the bar; Molony was a larger built man,
who wore a browner wig. Carrick took occasion to ask Mr. Young, when he
stood up to give his evidence, which side of the chair it was he stood
on, when he robbed him. Mr. Young answered him, that he stood on the
right side. _Why now, what a lie that is_, returned Carrick, _you know
Molony, I stood on the left._ Before the people recovered themselves
from laughing at this, Molony asked him what coloured wig he took him to
have on at the time the robbery was committed; being answered it was
much the same colour with that he had on then, _There's another story_,
quoth Molony, _you know, Carrick, I changed wigs with you that morning,
and wore it all day._
Yet after sentence was passed, Molony laid aside all airs of gaiety, and
seemed to be thoroughly convinced he had mistaken the true path of
happiness. He did not care to see company, treated the Ordinary civilly
when he spoke to him, though he professed himself a Papist, and was
visited by a clergymen of that Church.
As he was going to the place of execution, he still looked graver and
mote concerned; though he did not fall into those agonies of sighing and
tears as some do, but seemed to bear his miserable state with great
composedness and resignation, saying he had repented as well as he could
in the short time allowed him, suffering the same day with the two last
mentioned malefactors.