From the life of Roche, the course of those papers from which I extract
these accounts leads me to mention this criminal, that the deaths of
malefactors may not only terrify those who behold them dying, but also
posterity, who, by hearing their crimes and the event which they brought
on, may avoid falling into the one, for fear of feeling the other.
Humphry Angier was by birth of the Kingdom of Ireland, his father being
a man in very ordinary circumstances in a little town a few miles
distant from Dublin. As soon as this son was able to do anything, he
sent him to the city of Cork, and there bound him apprentice to a
cooper. His behaviour while an apprentice was so bad that his master
utterly despaired to do any good with him, and therefore was not sorry
that he ran away from him. However, he found a way to vex him
sufficiently, for he got into a crew of loose fellows, which so far
frightened the old cooper that he was at a considerable expense to hire
persons to watch his house for the four years that Angier loitered about
that city. At last his father even took him from thence, and brought him
over into England where he left him at full liberty to do what he
thought fit; resolving with himself that if his son would take to
ill-courses, it should be where the fame of his villainies might not
reflect upon him and his family.
He was now near eighteen years of age and being in some fear that some
persons whom he had wronged might bring him into danger, he listed
himself in the king's service, and went down with a new raised regiment
into Scotland, where he hoped to make something by plundering the
inhabitants, it being in the time of the Rebellion[33]. But he did not
succeed very well there, and on his return fell into the company of
William Duce, whom we have mentioned before. His conversation soon
seduced him to follow the same course of life, and that their intimacy
might be the more strongly knit, he married Duce's sister. Then engaging
himself with all that gang, he committed abundance of robberies in their
company, but was far from falling into that barbarous manner of beating
the passengers which was grown customary and habitual to Mead, Butler,
and some others of his and Duce's companions.
Angier told a particular story of them, which made a very great
impression upon him, and cannot but give my readers of an idea of that
horrible spirit which inspired those wretches. Mead and Butler came one
evening to him very full of their exploits, and the good luck they had
had. Mead particularly, having related every circumstance which had
happened since their last parting, said that amongst others whom they
had robbed they met a smooth-faced shoemaker, who said he was just
married and going home to his friends. They persuaded him to turn out of
the road to look in the hedge for a bird's nest, whither he was no
sooner got, but they bound, gagged and robbed him, and afterwards
turning back, barbarously clapped a pistol to his head and shot out his
brains. After this Angier declared he would never drink in the company
of Mead, and when Butler sometimes talked after the same manner, he used
to reprove him by telling him that cruelty was no courage, at which
Butler and some of his companions sometimes laughed, and told him he had
singular notions of courage.
After this, he and his wife (Duce's sister) set up a little alehouse by
Charing Cross, which soon against his will, though not without his
consent, became a bawdy-house, a receptacle for thieves, etc. This sort
of company rendered his house so suspicious and so obnoxious to the
magistrates for the City of Westminster, that he quickly found the
necessity of moving from thence. He then went and set up a brandy-shop,
where the same people came, though as he pretended much to his
dissatisfaction. While he kept the alehouse, there were two odd
accidents befell him, which brought him for the first time to Newgate.
It happened that while he was out one day, a Dutch woman picked up a
gentleman and brought him to Angier's house, where, while he was asleep,
she picked his pocket and left him. For this Angier and his maid were
taken up, and tried at the Old Bailey. He was also at the same time
tried for another offence, viz., an Irishwoman coming to his house and
drinking pretty hard there, he at last carried her upstairs, and
throwing her upon a bed pretended a great affection for her person; but
his wife coming in and pretending to be jealous of the woman, pulled her
off the bed and in so doing picked her pocket of four guineas. But of
this there being no direct evidence against him, he was also acquitted.
However, it ruined his house and credit, and drove him upon what was too
much his inclination, the taking money by force upon the road.
He now got into an acquaintance with Carrick, Carrol, Lock, Kelly, and
many others of that stamp, with whom he committed several villainies,
but always pretending to be above picking pockets, which he said was
practised by none of their crew but Hugh Kelly, who was a very dextrous
fellow in his way. However, when Angier was in custody, abundance of
people applied to him to help them to their gold watches, snuff-boxes,
etc.; but as he told them, so he persisted in it always, that he knew
nothing of the matter; and Kelly being gone over into America and there
settled, there was no hopes of getting any of them again.
One evening he and Milksop, one of his companions, being upon the road
to St. Albans, a little on this side of it, met a gentleman's coach, and
in it a young man and two ladies. They immediately called to the
coachman to stop, but he neglecting to obey their summons, they knocked
him off from the box, having first prevented him from whipping off, by
shooting one of his horses. They then dragged him under the coach, which
running over him hurt him exceedingly and even endangered his life. Then
they robbed the young gentleman and the ladies of whatever they had
about them valuable, using them very rudely and stripping things off
them in a very harsh and cruel way. Angier excused this by saying at the
time he did it he was much in liquor.
In the beginning of the year '20, Angier, who had so long escaped
punishment for the offences which he had committed, was very near
suffering for one in which he had not the least hand; for a person of
quality's coachman being robbed of a watch and some money, a woman of
the town, whom Angier and one of his companions had much abused, was
thereupon taken up, having attempted to pawn the fellow's watch after he
had advertised it. She played the hypocrite very dexterously upon her
apprehension, and said that the robbery was not committed by her, but
that Angier, Armstrong and another young man were the persons who took
it, and by her help they were seized and committed to Newgate. At the
ensuing sessions the woman swore roundly against them, but the fellow
being more tender, and some circumstances of their innocence plainly
appearing, they were acquitted by the jury and that very justly in this
case in which they had no hand.
During the time he lay under sentence, he behaved himself with much
penitence for another offence, always calling earnestly to God for His
assistance and grace to comfort him under those heavy sorrows which his
follies and crimes had so justly brought upon him.
At the place of execution he did not appear at all terrified at death,
but submitted to it with the same resignation which for a long space he
had professed since his being under confinement. Immediately before he
suffered he recollected his spirits and spoke in the following terms to
that crowd which always attends on such melancholy occasions.
Good People,
I see many of you here assembled to behold my wretched end. I hope
it will induce you to avoid those evils which have brought me
hither. Sometime before my being last taken up, I had formed within
myself most steady purposes of amendment, which it is a great
comfort to me, even here that I never broke them, having lived at
Henley upon Thames, both with a good reputation, and in a manner
which deserved it. I heartily forgive and I hope God would do the
same to Dyer, whose evidence hath taken away my life. I hope he will
make a good use of that time which the price of my blood and that of
others has procured him. I heartily desire pardon of all whom I have
injured and declare that in the several robberies I have committed,
I have been always careful to avoid committing any murder.
After this he adjusted the rope about his own neck, and submitted to
that sentence which the Law directed, being at that time about
twenty-nine years of age. He suffered on the 9th of September, 1723.