In excuse of taking base measures to procure money there is no plea so
often urged as necessity, and the desire of providing for a family
otherwise in danger of want. The reason of this is pretty evident, since
nothing could be a greater alleviation of such a crime. But the word
necessity is so equivocal that it is hard to fix its true meaning, and
unless that can be done, it will be as hard to judge of the
reasonableness of such an excuse.
John Johnson, the criminal on whose life we are next to cast an eye, was
born of a very honest and reputable family in the county of Nottingham,
and received in his youth the best education they were capable of giving
him. By this he became able to read tolerably and write well enough for
that business to which he was bred, viz., a tailor. Throughout his
apprenticeship he behaved himself virtuously and industriously, and left
his master with the character of a faithful and deserving young man.
When his time was out, and he had wrought for some time as a journeyman
in the country, the common whim of coming up to London seized him; and
after he had spent some time in town in working hard at his trade, he
married a wife with whom he lived in good correspondence for many years,
with the esteem and respect of all who knew him. But his family
increasing and he consequently finding the charge of maintaining them
rise higher than formerly, and, what was worse, that all he was capable
of doing could not maintain them, he grew very melancholy.
After considering several projects for making his circumstances more
easy, he at last pitched upon going into Lincolnshire, as a place where
the cheapness of provisions might balance the number of mouths he had to
feed. But he had not been long there before he discovered his mistake,
for the smallness of wages made everything rather dearer than cheaper,
which plunged him into new difficulties, and rendered him incapable of
ease or satisfaction. While his wits were thus on the rack, and his
invention stretched to the uttermost in order to find out some means or
other to recoup his pockets, he unfortunately fell into the company of a
man who, under the pretence of being his most zealous friend, became,
though perhaps unwittingly, the instrument of his utter ruin. For his
appearing ever disconsolate and melancholy gave the countryman an
opportunity of prying into the cause of his concern, which he soon
discovered to be the narrowness of his circumstances. As we naturally
find ease in communicating our afflictions to others, so Johnson was
ready enough to inform him of the truth of his affairs, and the man no
less assiduous in endeavouring to help him out of these straits into
which he had fallen.
At last, his Lincolnshire acquaintance told him there was but one way of
recovering his misfortunes and living like a man without labour, to
which Johnson began now to have a great aversion, and therefore he
eagerly desired to be acquainted with this delightful way of getting on.
With a grave face his associate told him that what he was about to
propose could not be effected without some risk, but that a man could
not expect to live without trouble or without hazard. Johnson said it
was true, and desired only to be informed wherein the hazard consisted,
as he would make no scruple of running it, for he lacked courage as
little as any man.
Upon this his companion opened to him his whole scheme, which consisted
in a method of counterfeiting the silver coin to a tolerable degree of
likeness. Johnson was easily drawn in, for he thought there could be no
speedier way of getting money than making it. His country friend helped
him to the necessary implements, and Johnson applied himself with such
earnestness to his new occupation that in a very short time he greatly
outdid his master, giving the false money he had made so perfect a
similitude to the specie for which he made it that it was impossible to
distinguish it by the eye. But thinking it much more hazardous to
attempt putting off in the country than it would be in London, and his
fellow labourer being of the same opinion, they first went to work and
coined a considerable sum according to their method, and they came up to
dispose of it, as Johnson had proposed.
By this time misfortune and remorse had taught the poor man whose life
we are writing to addict himself too much to drinking, especially to
strong liquors, so that the first experiment he made of the
practicability of getting rid of his false money was in putting off two
sixpences to a distiller for gin, in which he succeeded without being
suspected. But going to a shoemaker's and buying there a ready-made pair
of shoes, he was seized for attempting to pay the man with two bad
half-crowns, which though they looked pretty well to the eye, were
nevertheless much too light when they came to be weighed against the
metal that it was intended they should pass for.
When carried before a Justice his heart soon failed him and almost as
soon as he was asked he revealed the whole truth of the matter,
impeaching both the countryman who had taught him and a person with whom
they had trusted the secret here in town. However, his confession was of
little benefit to him, for at the next sessions he was capitally
convicted and from thenceforward cast off all hopes of life. As he was a
man who did not lack good natural parts, during the short time he had to
live he endeavoured to make his prayer to God for the forgiveness of the
many errors of his life, attending also constantly at the time of public
devotion. Yet for all this he could not be persuaded that there was any
great degree of guilt in what he had done, but imagined on the contrary
that he was much more innocent than his fellow malefactors, regretting,
however, the heavy misfortune he had brought upon himself and family,
two of his children dying during the time of his imprisonment, and his
wife and third child coming upon the parish. In which sentiments he
continued until the day of his execution, which was on the same with the
before-mentioned John Turner, this criminal being then about fifty years
of age.
The Lives of JAMES SHERWOOD, GEORGE WEEDON and JOHN HUGHS, Street
Robbers and Footpads
Amongst the many artifices by which vice covers itself from our
apprehension, there is no method which it more commonly takes, and yet
better succeeds in, than by putting on a mask of virtue and thereby
imposing the most flagitious actions upon us as things indifferent,
sometimes as things which may gain applause.
This was exactly the case with the persons whose lives we are now about
to write, who were all of them young men of tolerable education, but
giving way to their vicious inclinations, they associated themselves
together for the better carrying on those evil practices by which they
supported their extravagances, into which lewd women especially had
betrayed them.
James Sherwood, who was the eldest of them, and also went by the name of
Hobbs, was the son of but mean parents, who, however, took all the pains
that were in their power to educate him in the best manner they were
able. When he grew up they put him out apprentice to a waterman, with
whom he served his time, and was afterwards a seaman in a man-of-war.
When at home he spent his time in the worst company imaginable, viz.,
idle young men and lewd, infamous women. As he had naturally a good
understanding and quick apprehension, he quickly became adroit in every
mystery of wickedness to which he addicted himself. However, Justice
soon overtook him and his first companions in wickedness; upon which he
turned evidence and saved his own life by sacrificing theirs. He was
transported soon afterwards, but upon his finding it difficult to live
abroad without working (a thing, for which he had an intolerable
aversion) he took the first opportunity that offered of returning home
again.
When he returned he fell to his old practices, taking up his lodgings at
the house of one Sarah Payne, a most infamous woman who was capable of
seducing unwary youths for the commission of the greatest villainies,
and then ready to betray them to death, either to benefit or secure
herself. By hers and Sherwood's means George Weedon was drawn in, a
young man of very reputable parents, who had been brought up with the
greatest care in the principles of virtue and true religion. It seems,
however, that having contracted an acquaintance with a lewd and artful
woman, who drew him into an excessive fondness for her, he yielded to
the solicitations of Sherwood and his landlady, and took to such courses
as they suggested, in order to supply himself with money for the
entertainment of that strumpet who was his ruin. It was but a few days
before his apprehension that he had been induced to quit the house of
his mother, who had ever treated him with the greatest tenderness and
affection, and instead thereof had taken lodging with the
before-mentioned Payne, who continually solicited him to commit
robberies and thefts.
At length John Hughs, _alias_ Hews, another young man, joined them.
Though bred up carefully to the trade of a shoemaker by his father, who
was of the same profession, yet for many years he had addicted himself
to picking pockets and such other low kinds of theft, but had never done
any great robbery until he fell into the hands of Sherwood and Weedon;
with whom he readily agreed to associate himself, and to go with them
out into Moorfields and such other places near Town as they thought most
convenient in order to waylay and rob passengers, and at other times,
when such opportunities did not offer, to break open houses, and to
divide their profits equally amongst them. These designs were hardly
made before they were put into execution and a very short space elapsed
before they had committed many robberies and burglaries, always bringing
the booty home and spending it lewdly and extravagantly in the house of
that abandoned monster, Sarah Payne.
It may not be amiss to take notice here how common a thing it is for
such wicked old sinners as this woman was, to set up houses of resort
for lewd and abandoned women of the town, who, first getting young men
into their company on amorous pretences, by degrees bring them on from
one wickedness to another, till at last they end their lives at the
gallows, and thereby leave these wretches at liberty to bring others to
the same miserable fate. These agents to the Prince of Darkness are
usually women who have an artful way of flattering and a pleasing
deceitfulness in their address. By this means they, without much
difficulty, draw in young lads at their first giving way to the current
of their lewd inclinations, and before they are aware, involve them in
such expenses as necessarily lead to housebreaking or the highway for a
supply. When once they have made a step of this kind, by which their
lives are placed in the power of those old practitioners in every kind
of wickedness, they are from thenceforward treated as slaves and forced
to continue, whether they will or no, in a repeated course of the like
villainies until they are arrested by the hand of Justice. Then, none so
ready to become evidences against them as those abominable wretches by
whom they were at first seduced.
Such was the fate that befell these three unhappy young men, of whose
courses information being given, they were all apprehended and committed
close prisoners to Newgate, and at the next ensuing sessions not a few
indictments were found against them. The first indictment they were all
three arraigned upon was for felony and burglary in breaking open the
house of one William Meak, in the night-time, and taking from thence
twelve Gloster cheeses. But the evidence appearing clear only against
Sherwood, _alias_ Hobbs, he alone was convicted and the other two
acquitted. They were then indicted a second time for breaking open the
house of Daniel Elvingham, in the night-time, and taking out of it
several quantities of brandy and tobacco; upon which both Sherwood and
Weedon were, from very full evidence, convicted. On a third indictment
for breaking into the house of Elizabeth Cogdal, and taking thence eight
pewter dishes and twenty pewter plates, they were all found guilty;
Sherwood and Weedon also being a fourth time convicted for a robbery on
the highway, which was proved upon them by the testimony of their
landlady, Sarah Payne.
Under sentence of death they all testified great sorrow for the offences
of their misspent lives. Weedon was of a better temper than the two
other, retained a greater sense of the principles of religion upon which
he had been brought up in his youth and exceeded his companions in
seriousness and steadiness in his devotions. Sherwood had been a much
longer proficient in all kinds of wickedness than the other two, having
practised several kinds of thefts for nearly eighteen years together,
and this had habituated him so much to sin that he showed much less
penitence than either of his companions. Hughs had been a thief in a low
degree for some years before he fell into the confederacy of Sherwood
and Weedon, to which, as he frankly owned, he was drawn by his own
previous inclination rather than the persuasions of any of his
companions.
As the time of their death approached they seemed much more affected
than formerly they had been; in which frame of mind they continued till
they suffered, which was on the 12th of February, 1728, Sherwood being
in his twenty-sixth year, Hughs in the twenty-third, and Weedon in the
twenty-second year of his age.
The Life of MARTIN BELLAMY, a Notorious Thief, Highwayman and
Housebreaker
This criminal was amongst the number of those whom long practice had so
hardened in his offences that he took up the humour of glorying in them,
even under his confinement, and persisted in it to the hour of his
death, drawing up, when under sentence (or at least giving instructions
by which it was drawn up) an account of the several street-robberies,
burglaries, and other crimes which he had committed, in a style which
too plainly showed that nothing in his miserable condition afflicted him
but the thought of his ignominious death he was to suffer, not even the
reflection of those crimes which had so deservedly brought him to his
fate. By trade he was a tailor and a good workman in his business, by
which he lived in good credit for some time. It seems he married a woman
whose friends, at least, were very honest people, and highly displeased
with the villainous course of life he led. Insomuch that upon his being
apprehended and sent to Bridewell on suspicion, his wife's brother came
to him there in order to know where the prosecutor lived, that, as he
said, he might go and make some proposals for making up the affair.
Bellamy gave him the best account he could, and the man finding out the
person, advised him to prosecute Martin with the utmost severity, in
hopes, no doubt, that he should in this way rid his sister of a very bad
husband. However, Bellamy was so irritated by the attempt that he would
never cohabit with her afterwards, but with implacable hatred pursued
her and her family with all the mischiefs he was able.
The methods which he and his gang mostly took in robbing, according to
the account which, as I have before said, he has left us of himself,
were chiefly these: the gang having met together in the evening used to
go, three or four in a company, to visit the shops of those tradesmen
who deal in the richest sort of toys[78] and other goods that are
portable and easily conveyed away. Then one of the company cheapens
something or other, making many words with the shopkeeper about the
price, thereby giving an opportunity to some of his companions to hand
things of value from one to another till they were insensibly vanished,
the honest shopkeeper being left to deplore the misfortune of having
such light-fingered customers find the way to his shop. Another practice
of theirs, to the same laudable purpose, was carried on after this
manner: three or four of them walked up and down several streets, which
by observation they had found fitted for their purpose, and on
perceiving things of any value lying in a parlour, they, with an engine
contrived for that purpose, suddenly threw up the sash; and
notwithstanding there being persons in the room, they would venture to
snatch it out and often get clear off before the people who saw them
could recover themselves from the surprise. But if there was nobody in
the way, then one of their associates, slipping off his shoes, stole
softly into the room and handed out whatever was of most value to his
companions without doors.
But Bellamy was not only adroit in these ordinary practices, but was
also perfectly acquainted with the art and mystery of counterfeiting
hands; and as an instance thereof, upon which he much valued himself, he
used to relate a trick of that sort which he put upon the late Jonathan
Wild, after this manner: having accustomed himself for some time to
frequent the levee of that infamous agent of thieves, he became so well
acquainted with Jonathan's manner of writing and also with the persons
who gave him credit on particular occasions when money was low.
Whereupon he took occasion to forge a note from the said Wild to one
Wildgoose, servant at an inn, who used to be Jonathan's banker upon
emergencies, who, on receipt of the note, paid Bellamy the contents
thereof without hesitation. A few days after, Mr. Wild and his
correspondent met. The forgery was soon detected and Jonathan
immediately gave directions to that infamous band of villains who were
always in his pay and under his direction, to leave no means untried for
the apprehending Bellamy, who from Wildgoose's description he knew to be
the man who had been guilty of the forgery.
In the search after him they were so assiduous that in a very short
space they surprised him at a house in Whitefriars, where he was forced
to fly up to a garret in order to conceal himself. His pursuers thinking
they had now lodged him pretty securely, sent notice of it to their
master. But Martin perceiving a long rope lying upon a bed in the room
where he hid himself, resolved for once to venture his neck; and having
fastened it as well as he could, he slipped down by it into the street,
with so great agility that none of his attendants perceived it till he
was in the street, by which time he got so much the start of them that
they found it but in vain to pursue him, and therefore laid by all
thoughts of catching him until another opportunity.
However, the trick he had played them made them so diligent in pursuing
him that it was but a very short time before they surrounded him in a
brandy-shop in Chancery Lane, seized him and brought him in a coach to
the Elephant and Castle alehouse, Fleet Street, from whence they
dispatched advice to Jonathan of his apprehension. It happened that that
great man was gone to bed when the message arrived with this news;
however it was carried up and Jonathan with an air of generosity bid the
fellow return and inform his people that he would take Mr. Bellamy's
word, and that he might meet him with safety the next morning at his
levee. Bellamy, who well knew the temper of the man, failed not to pay
his court at the time appointed and adjourning to the Baptist Head
tavern in the Old Bailey, after drinking a refreshing bottle, he
presented Mr. Wild with five guineas, by way of atonement for the
offence which he had committed against him. Jonathan was so well
appeased by the intervention of the golden advocates that he promised
not only to forgive him, himself, but also to prevail with Mr. Wildgoose
to do the same, provided he entered into a bond for the repayment of the
ten guineas. This was a condition easily submitted to by Martin in his
present circumstances. This danger thus got over, he returned to his old
profession without running any further hazard of Jonathan's
interruption.
About this time the gang to which he belonged entered upon a new method
of housebreaking, which they effected by stealing the keys which
fastened the pins in shopkeepers' window-shutters and thereby removing
the greatest difficulty they had of getting in. This trade they carried
on successfully for a good space; though now and then they miscarried in
their attempts, particularly at a goldsmith's shop in Russell Court,
where, having got into the shop and being about to remove a show-glass,
a man who lay in the shop suddenly started up and presenting a
blunderbuss with a great presence of mind told the thieves that he was
tender of shedding their blood and therefore advised them to get off as
soon as they could. They took his advice and withdrew accordingly, with
great confusion. But the same night they had, as Mr. Bellamy expresses
it, much better luck at a toy-shop not far from the same place, where,
entering the house, they found the maid sitting by the fire. She at
first screamed, but they soon made her silent, and then proceeded to
carry off the show-glass, with all the boxes that were contained in it.
Not long after this they broke off the padlock from a toy-shop in
Swithin's Alley, in Cornhill. Not being able afterwards to enter the
house they fell to work next upon the thick timber that supports the
shutters, and after labouring at it about an hour, forced it off,
whereupon all the shutters dropping down at once into the court, made so
great a clatter that they doubted not that all the neighbourhood was
alarmed, and thought it would be no ill night's work if, after such an
accident, they had the good luck to escape. Upon which they endeavoured
to shift, everyone for himself. However, seeing nobody alarmed at the
noise of the falling of the shutters and that during two hours' time the
watch had never passed that way, they took courage at last: and
returned, entered the house, and putting up the most valuable goods,
went off without any molestation.
A multitude of robberies of the same kind he confessed, but as they are
narrated in the account we have so often mentioned, it would be a kind
of imposition on our readers to transcribe those accounts there.
Wherefore, in the following articles concerning him, we shall make no
use at all of any that is to be found there.
During the space he led this life he cohabited with one Amy Fowles, who
passed for his wife and bore him several children. At last, though he
had so often escaped, he was apprehended for a burglary committed on the
house of Mr. Holliday, in Bishopsgate Street, and upon very full
evidence was convicted at the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey. After
his commitment to Newgate he entered, it seems, into a treaty with a
certain Justice of the Peace for making a full discovery of all his
accomplices, which might at that time have contributed very much to the
public advantage; but in the interim some person had talked thereof too
openly, it came to the ears of one who collected news for a daily paper.
This man thereupon went to Bellamy, making the poor fellow believe that
he came to him by the direction of some persons in power (a thing not at
all unlikely, considering that a proclamation had been issued but very
little before for the better encouraging the discovery of and bringing
first offenders to justice). And having by this means drawn the poor
fellow into a confession of several robberies and burglaries, he
digested it, or got somebody to do it for him, into proper paragraphs
which were inserted the next day in a newspaper and gave thereby an
opportunity to the persons impeached, of making their escape. This
rogue, therefore defeated Bellamy of all hopes of pardon and hindered
the public from receiving any benefit from his confession. All which
enormous villainies were perhaps perpetrated for the sake of a poor
crown, the utmost that could be expected by the collector for procuring
this extraordinary passage big with so much mischief, and which in its
consequences produced little better than a murder, since it is possible
that Bellamy's life might have been saved if a right use had been made
of his confession.
At his trial he behaved with great impudence and during the time he lay
under sentence continued to affect that gaiety which amongst persons of
his profession is too often mistaken for bravery and true courage. But
when the fatal day approached he, as is common with most of them, sank
much in his spirits and had a great deal to do to recover himself so as
to be able to read the following paper, which he had written for that
purpose and brought with him to the tree, which, as the words of a dying
man, I publish verbatim: