There are some persons who are unhappy, even from their cradles, and
though every man is said to be born to a mixture of good and evil
fortune, yet these seem to reap nothing from their birth but an entry
into woe, and a passage to misery.
This unhappy man we are now speaking of, Joseph Ward, is a strong
instance of this, for being the son of travelling people, he scarce knew
either the persons to whom he owed his birth, or the place where he was
born. However, they found a way to instruct him well enough to read, and
that so well that it was afterwards of great use to him, in the most
miserable state of his life.
He rambled about with his father and mother until the age of fourteen,
when they dying, he was left to the wide world, with nothing to provide
for himself but his wits; so that he was almost under necessity of going
into a gang of gipsies that passed by that part of the country where he
was. These gipsies taught him all their arts of living, and it happened
that the crew he got into were not of the worst sort either, for they
maintained themselves rather by the credulity of the country folks, than
by the ordinary practices of those sort of people, stealing of poultry
and robbing hedges of what linen people are careless enough to leave
there. I shall have another and more proper occasion to give my readers
the history of this sort of people, who were anciently formidable enough
to deserve an especial Act of Parliament[55] altered and amended in
several reigns for banishing them from the Kingdom.
But to go on with the story of Ward; disliking this employment, he took
occasion, when they came into Buckinghamshire, to leave them at a common
by Gerrard's Cross, and come up to London. When he came here, he was
still in the same state, not knowing what to do to get bread. At last he
bethought himself of the sea, and prevailed on a captain to take with
him a pretty long voyage. He behaved himself so well in his passage,
that his master took him with him again, and used him very kindly; but
he dying, Ward was again put to his shifts, though on his arrival in
England he brought with him near 30 guineas to London.
He look up lodgings near the Iron Gate at St. Catherine's, and taking a
walk one evening on Tower Wharf, he there met with a young woman, who
after much shyness suffered him to talk to her. They met there a second
and a third time. She said she was niece to a pewterer of considerable
circumstances, not far from Tower Hill, who had promised, and was able
to give her five hundred pounds; but the fear of disobliging him by
marriage, hindered her from thinking of becoming a wife without his
approbation of her spouse.
These difficulties made poor Ward imagine that if he could once persuade
the woman to marriage, he should soon mollify the heart of her relation,
and so become happy at once. With a great deal to do, Madam was
prevailed upon to consent, and going to the Fleet they were there
married, and soon returned to St. Catherine's, to new lodgings which
Ward had taken, where he had proposed to continue a day or two and then
wait upon the uncle.
Never man was in his own opinion more happy than Joseph Ward in his new
wife, but alas! all human happiness is fleeting and uncertain,
especially when it depends in any degree upon a woman. The very next
morning after their wedding, Madam prevailed on him to slip on an old
coat and take a walk by the house which she had shown him for her
uncle's. He was no sooner out of doors, but she gave the sign to some of
her accomplices, who in a quarter of an hour's time helped her to strip
the lodging not only of all which belonged to Ward, but of some things
of value that belonged to the people of the house. They were scarce out
of doors before Ward returned, who finding his wife gone and the room
stripped, set up such an outcry as alarmed all the people in the house.
Instead of being concerned at Joseph's loss they clamoured at their own,
and told him in so many words that if he did not find the woman, or make
them reparation for their goods, they would send him to Newgate. But
alas! it was neither in Ward's power to do one, nor the other. Upon
which the people were as good as their word, for they sent for a
constable and had him before a Justice. There the whole act appearing,
the justice discharged him and told them they must take their remedy
against him at the Common Law. Upon this Ward took the advantage and
made off, but taking to drinking to drive away the sorrows that
encompassed him, he at last fell into ill-company, and by them was
prevailed on to join in doing evil actions to get money. He had been but
a short time at this trade, before he committed the fact for which he
died.
Islington was the road where he generally took a purse, and therefore
endeavoured to make himself perfectly acquainted with many ways that
lead to that little town, which he effected so well, that he escaped
several times from the strictest pursuits. At last it came into his head
that the safest way would be to rob women, which accordingly he put into
practice, and committed abundance of thefts that way for the space of
six weeks, particularly on one Mrs. Jane Vickary, of a gold ring value
twenty shillings, and soon after of Mrs. Elizabeth Barker, of a gold
ring set with garnets. Being apprehended for these two facts, he was
committed to New Prison, where either refusing or not being able to make
discoveries, he remained in custody till the sessions at the Old Bailey.
There the persons swearing positively to his face, he was after a
trivial defence convicted, and received sentence of death accordingly.
As he had no relations that he knew of, nor so much as one friend in the
world, the thoughts of a pardon never distracted his mind a moment. He
applied himself from the day of his sentence to a new preparation for
death, and having in the midst of all his troubles accustomed himself to
reading, he was of great use to his unhappy companions in reading the
Scripture, and assisting them in their private devotions. He made a just
use of that space which the mercy of the English Law allows to persons
who are to suffer death for their crimes to make their peace with their
Creator.
[Illustration: TRIAL OF A HIGHWAYMAN AT THE OLD BAILEY
The manacled rogue is seen in the foreground, his head bowed in despair,
as the witness by his side unfolds his damning evidence. Through one
window is shown the robbery for which he is being tried; the other
affords a prophetical glimpse of the villain's end at Tyburn Tree.
(_From the Newgate Calendar_)]
There was but one person who visited this offender while under the
sentence of the Law, and he, thinking that the only method by which he
could do him service was to save his life, proposed to him a very
probable method of escaping, which for reasons not hard to be guessed
at, I shall forbear describing. He pressed him so often and made the
practicability of the thing so plain that the criminal at last
condescended to make the experiment, and his friend promised the next
day to bring him the materials for his escape.
That night Ward, who began then to be weak in his limbs with the
sickness which had lain upon him ever since he had been in the prison,
fell into a deep sleep, a comfort he had not felt since the coming on of
his misfortunes. In this space he dreamed that he was in a very barren,
sandy place, which was bounded before him by a large deep river, which
in the middle of the plain parted itself into two streams that, after
having run a considerable space, united again, having formed an island
within the branches. On the other side of the main river, there appeared
one of the most beautiful countries that could be thought of, covered
with trees, full of ripe fruit, and adorned with flowers. On the other
side, in the island which was enclosed, having a large arm of water
running behind it and another smaller before, the soil appeared sandy
and barren, like that whereon he stood.
While he was musing at this sight, he beheld a person of a grave and
venerable aspect, in garb and appearance like a shepherd, who asked him
twice or thrice, if he knew the meaning of what he there saw, to which
he answered, _No. Well, then_, says the stranger, _I will inform you.
This sight which you see is just your present case. You have nothing to
resolve with yourself but whether you will prepare by swimming across
this river immediately, forever to possess that beautiful country that
lies before you; or by attempting the passage over the narrow board
which crosses the first arm of the river and leads into the island,
where you will be again amidst briars and thorns, and must at last pass
that deep water, before you can enter the pleasant country you behold on
the other side._
This vision made so strong an impression on the poor man's spirits that
when his friend came he refused absolutely to make his escape, but
suffered with great marks of calmness and true repentance, at Tyburn, in
the twenty-seventh year of his age.