William Lipsat was the son of a person at Dublin, in very tolerable
circumstances, which he strained to the utmost to give this lad a
tolerable education. When he had acquired this he sent him over to an
uncle of his at Stockden, in Worcestershire, where he lived with more
indulgence than even when at home, his uncle having no children, and
behaving to him with all the tenderness of a parent. However, on some
little difference (the boy having long had an inclination to see this
great City of London) he took that occasion to go away from his uncle,
and accordingly came up to town, and was employed in the service of one
Mr. Kelway. He had not been long there before he received a letter from
his father, entreating him to return to Dublin with all the speed he was
able. This letter was soon followed by another, which not only desired,
but commanded him to come back to Ireland. He was not troubled at
thinking of the voyage and going home to his friends, but he was very
desirous of carrying money over with him to make a figure amongst his
relations, which not knowing how to get, he at last bethought himself of
stealing it from a place in which he knew it lay. After several
struggles with himself, vanity prevailed, and he accordingly went and
took away the things, viz., 57 guineas and a half, 25 Caroluses,[51] 5
Jacobuses, 3 Moidores, six piece of silver, two purses valued at twelve
pence. These, as he said, would have made his journey pleasant and his
reception welcome, which was the reason he took them. The evidence was
very dear and direct against him, so that the jury found him guilty
without hesitation.
From the time of his condemnation to the day he died, he neither
affected to extenuate his crime, nor reflect, as some are apt to do, on
the cruelty of the prosecutors, witnesses, or the Court that condemned
him. So far from it, that he always acknowledged the justice of his
sentence, seemed grieved only for the greatness of his sin and the
affliction of the punishment of it would bring upon his relations, who
had hitherto always born the best of characters, though by his failing
they were now like to be stigmatised with the most infamous crimes.
However, since his grief came now too late, he resolved as much as he
was able to keep such thoughts out of his head, and apply himself to
what more nearly concerned him, and for which all the little time he had
was rather too short. In a word, in his condition, none behaved with
more gravity, or to outward appearance with more penitence than this
criminal did.
He suffered with the same resignation which had appeared in everything
he did from the time of his condemnation, on the 1st of February,
1724-5, with the before-mentioned malefactors, being then scarce
eighteen years of age.