Amongst the many other ill consequences of a debauched life and wicked
conversation, it may be reckoned, perhaps, no small one that they render
men liable to suspicions, imprisonments and even capital punishment,
when at the same time, they may be innocent of the particular fact with
which they are charged; nor in such a case is the conviction of an
innocent person so great a reflection on any, as on themselves having
rendered such an accusation probable.
Benjamin Wileman, of whom we are now to speak, was the son of honest
parents in the city of Dublin. They gave him a very good education at
school, and when he was fit to go out apprentice, his father bred him to
his own trade, which was that of a tailor. When he grew weary of that
business, he listed himself as a soldier, and in that state of life
passed twelve years, a sufficient space of time to acquire those
numerous vices which are so ordinary amongst the common sort of men, who
betake themselves to a military employment. Then he came over into
England and lived here, as he himself said, by working at his own trade;
though certain it is, that he led a most debauched and dissolute life,
associating himself with those of his countrymen who of all others were
the most abandoned in their characters. In fine, in all the associations
of his life he seemed to proceed without any other design than that of
gratifying his vicious inclinations.
In the midst of this terrible course of folly and wickedness he was
apprehended for a highwayman, committed to Newgate, and at the ensuing
sessions capitally indicted for two robberies, the one committed on
William Hucks, Esq., and the other on William Bridges, Esq. On the first
indictment it was deposed by the prosecutor that he believed Wileman to
be the person who attacked him. John Doyle, who owned himself to have
been an accomplice in the robbery, swore that Wileman and he committed
it together, and that he paid Wileman five guineas and a half for his
share of the gold watch and other things which were taken from the
gentleman. As to the second fact, Mr. Bridges gave evidence that he was
robbed on the highway and lost a sword, a hat, a pocket-book and a
bank-note for twenty pounds. Doyle gave evidence in this, as in the
former case, declaring that Wileman and he committed the fact together.
Then Elizabeth Jones being produced, swore that the same day she met
Doyle and Wileman booted and spurred and very dirty in Bedford Row, and
that they showed her the bank note, which when shown to her, she deposed
to be the same. Arabelle Manning deposed that on the night of the day
the robbery was committed, the prisoner Wileman and Doyle gave her a
dram at a gin-shop in Drury Lane, and that one of them let fall a paper,
and taking it up again, said that the loss of it would have been the
loss of twenty pounds.
The prisoner objected to the character of Doyle, Jones and Manning, and
called some persons as to his own, but the jury thinking the fact
sufficiently proved, found him guilty on both indictments. Under
sentence of death, his behaviour was very regular, professing a deep
sorrow and repentance for a very loose life which he had led, and at the
same time peremptorily denying that he had any hand in, or knew anything
of either of those facts which had been sworn against him, and for which
he was to die.
Notwithstanding that the most earnest entreaties were made use of to
induce him to a plain and sincere confession, yet he continued always to
assert his innocence as to thieving, letting fall sharp and invidious
expressions against the evidence of Doyle whom he charged with swearing
against him only to preserve another guilty person from punishment, whom
Wileman intended to prosecute and had it is his power to convict. The
effects of his former good education were very serviceable to him in
this his great and last misfortune, for he seemed to have very just
notions of those duties which were incumbent upon him in his miserable
state; therefore, especially towards the latter part of his time, he
appeared gravely at chapel and prayed fervently in his cell until the
boy James Grundy, whom we have mentioned before, put it in to his head
to make his escape; for the attempting which they were all carried (as
we have said before) into the old condemned hold and there stapled down
to the ground.
As there is no courage so reasonable as that which is founded on
Christian principles, so neither constitutional bravery nor that
resolution which arises either from custom, from vanity, or from other
false maxims preserves that steady firmness at the approach of death
which gives true quiet and peace of mind in the last moments of life,
taking away through the certainty of belief, those terrors which are
otherwise too strong for the mind, and which human nature is unable to
resist. Wileman's conduct under his misfortunes, fully verified this
observation in its strongest sense; he only retained just notions of
religion and this enabled him to support his affliction after a very
different manner from that in which it affected his two companions; or
as it had done himself before, from a just contemplation of the mercy of
God, and the merits of his Saviour, he had brought himself to a right
idea of the importance of his soul, and thereby took himself off from
the superfluous consideration of this world and stifled those uneasy
sensations with which men are naturally startled at the approach of
death. Yet he did not in all this time alter a jot in his confession,
but asserted calmly that he was innocent, and that Doyle had perjured
himself in order to take away his life.
At the place of execution his wife came to him, embraced him with great
tenderness, and all he said there in relation to the world was that he
hoped nobody would reflect upon her for the misfortune which had
befallen him, and then, with great piety and resignation in the midst of
fervent ejaculations, yielded up his last breath at Tyburn, at the same
time with the malefactor before mentioned, being at the time of his
decease about forty-three years of age.
The Life of JAMES CLUFF, a Murderer, in which is contained a concise
account of the nature of Appeals
To curb our vicious inclinations and to restrain those passions from the
sudden transports of which cruel and irreparable mischiefs are done, is
without doubt the best end of all instructions; and for my own part, I
cannot help thinking that this very book may contribute as much to this
purpose as any other that has been published for a long time. That vices
are foul in their nature is certainly true, and that they are fatal in
their consequences, those who, without consideration pursue them, feel.
There are few who will take time to convince themselves of the first,
but no man can be so blind as to mistake the latter after the perusal of
these memoirs, in which I have been particularly careful to describe the
several roads by which our lusts lead us to destruction; and have fixed
up Tyburn as a beacon to warn several men from indulging themselves in
sensual pleasures.
This unfortunate person we are now going to give the public an account
of was the son of very honest people who kept a public-house in Clare
Market. They were careful in sending him to school, and having taught
him there to read and write etc., sufficiently to qualify him for
business, then put him apprentice to the Swan Tavern near the Tower.
There he served his time carefully and with a good character, nor did
his parents omit in instructing him in the grounds of the Christian
religion, of which having a tolerable understanding he attained a just
knowledge, and preserved a tolerable remembrance unto the time of his
unhappy death.
After he was out of his time, he served as a drawer at several public
houses, and behaved himself civilly and honestly without any reflections
either on his temper or his honesty until he came to Mr. Payne's, who
kept the Green Lettuce, a public house in High Holborn, where the
accident fell out which cost him his life.
It seems there lived with him as a fellow servant, one Mary Green, whom
some suggested he had an affection for; but whether that were so or not,
did not very clearly appear, but on the contrary it was proved that they
had many janglings and quarrels together, in which Cluff had sometimes
struck her. However it was, on the 11th of April, 1729, Mary Green being
at dinner in a box by herself, Cluff came in and went into the box to
her, where he had not continued above four or five minutes before he
called to his mistress, who was walking up and down, _Madam, pray come
here._ By this time the maid was dead of a wound in her thigh, which
pierced the femoral artery. There was a noise heard before the man
himself came out, and the wench was dead before her mistress came in.
However, Cluff was immediately apprehended, and at the ensuing sessions
at the Old Bailey he was indicted for the murder of Mary Green, by
giving her a mortal wound in the right thigh, of the breadth of one
inch, and of the depth of five inches, of which she instantly died. He
was a second time indicted upon the coroner's inquest for the said
offence, and also a third time upon the Statute of Stabbing. However the
evidence not being clear enough to satisfy the jury, on his trial he was
acquitted by them all. But this not at all satisfying the relations of
the deceased Mary Green, her brother William Green brought an appeal
against him, which is a kind of proceeding which has occasioned several
popular errors to take rise. Therefore it may not be improper to say
something concerning it for the better information of our readers.
Appeals are of two sorts, viz., such as are brought by an innocent
person, and such as are brought by an offender confessing himself
guilty, who is commonly called an approver. An innocent person's appeal
is the party's private action, prosecuting also for the Crown, in
respect of the offence against the public, and such a prosecution may be
either by writ or by bill. As to the writ of appeal, it is an original
issuing out of Chancery and remarkable in the Court of King's Bench
only. Bills of Appeal are more common and contain in them the nature
both of a writ and a declaration, and they may be received by
commissioners of gaol delivery or justices of assize.
Those which are in use at present in capital cases are four, viz.,
Appeals of Death, of Larceny, of Rape and of Arson. The first is both
the most common and that of which we are particularly to speak. It is to
be brought by the wife or heir of the person deceased, unless they be
guilty of the murder, and then the heir may have an appeal against the
wife, or if he be accused the next heir may have it against him. The
appellant must be heir general to the deceased, and his heir male (for
by _Magna Charta_ a woman cannot have an appeal of death for any but her
husband) and in the appeal also it must be set forth how the appellant
is heir unto the deceased. As to the time in which an appeal may be
brought, it is by the Statute of Gloucester[86] restrained within a year
and a day from the time of the deed done. There is great nicety in all
the proceedings on appeals of death and everything must be set forth
with the greatest exactness imaginable. The appellant hath also the
liberty of pleading as many pleas, or to speak more properly, to take
issue on as many points as he thinks fit. He is tried by a jury, and on
his being found guilty, the appellant hath an order for his execution
settled by the Court; but when the appellee is acquitted, the appellant
is chargeable with damages on such a prosecution, provided there appear
to have been no just cause for the commencement thereof.
But to return to the case of Cluff, which led us into this discourse.
The evidence at his trial upon the appeal was, as to its substance thus.
Mrs. Diana Payne, at the Green Lettuce in Holborn, deposed that the
prisoner James Cluff and the deceased Mary Green were both of them her
servants; that about a quarter of an hour before Mary Green died, she
saw the prisoner carry out a pot of drink; that while she was walking in
the tap-house with her child in her arms, she saw Mary Green go down
into the cellar and bring up two pints of drink, one for a customer and
another for herself, which she carried into a box where she was at
dinner; that about four or five minutes before the accident happened,
Cluff came in, and went to the box to the deceased, and in about four
minutes cried out, _Madam, pray come hither_; that the witness thereupon
went to the door of the box and saw the deceased on her backside on the
floor, and the prisoner held her up by the shoulders, while the blood
ran from her in a stream; that on seeing her, she said to the prisoner,
_James, what have you done?_ To which he answered, _Nothing, Madam._
Whereupon this evidence enquired whether he had seen her do anything to
herself, he replied. _No_, the deceased at that time neither speaking
not stirring, but looking as if she were dead. However, the prisoner at
that time said he saw her have a knife in her hand in the cellar, and
the witness being prodigiously affrighted called her husband and ran for
an apothecary.
Mr. John Payne, husband of the first witness, deposed to the same
purpose as his wife, adding that no struggling was heard when the blows
were given and that she had no knife in her hand when she came out of
the cellar; that in the morning between nine and ten o'clock, a young
man came in, who, as he was informed, had been formerly a sweetheart of
the deceased; that this person drank a pint of drink and smoked a pipe,
the deceased sitting by him some little time, during which as he
believed the stranger kissed her; at which, as they stood before the
bar, he observed the prisoner's countenance alter, as if he were out of
humour at somewhat, although he could not say that he had ever heard of
courtship between them; adding, that when the prisoner went into the box
where the deceased was at dinner, he did take notice of his throwing the
door after him with an unusual violence.
Mr. Saunders, who happened that day to dine at Mr. Payne's house,
confirmed all the former evidence, deposing moreover, than when Mr.
Payne gave the prisoner some harsh language, the prisoner replied, _Sir,
I am as innocent as the child is at my mistress's breast_; that the
prisoner also pretended the deceased took a knife in her hand when she
went into the cellar, upon which this evidence and Mr. Payne went down,
and found not a drop of blood all the way. Mr. Saunders also deposed
that the prisoner was out of the way when the deceased went to draw
drink, and that they saw no knife in her hand.
Mr. Cox, the surgeon, deposed that he saw the deceased lying upon her
back, amid a vast stream of blood which had issued from her; that upon
the table among other knives he had found one amongst them which was a
little bloody and answered exactly to the cut, it going through her
apron, a stuff petticoat and a strong coarse shift. The wound was in her
thigh, going obliquely upwards, and therefore, as he thought, could not
have been given by the deceased herself. The knife, too, was as he said,
laid farther than the deceased could have carried it after the receipt
of the wound, which being in the femoral artery must be mortal in a
minute, or a minute and a half at most. He observed, also, that under
her chin and about her left ear there seemed to have been some violence
used, so as to have caused a stagnation of the blood. This deposition
was confirmed by another surgeon and apothecary, and also in most of its
material circumstances by a surgeon who looked on her on behalf of the
prisoner.
Cluff asked very few questions, and Mr. Daldwin being called for the
appellant, swore that at nine o'clock in the morning he was at Mr.
Payne's and saw the prisoner and the deceased quarrelling, that he
looked maliciously and was an ill-natured fellow. Here the counsel of
the appeal rested their proof, and the prisoner made no other defence
than absolutely denying the fact. After his counsel had said what they
thought proper on the nature and circumstances that had been sworn
against him, the jury withdrew, and after a short stay brought in the
prisoner guilty.
During the space he was confined, between their verdict and his death,
he behaved with a calmness very rare to be met with. He attended the
public devotion of the chapel very gravely and devoutly, behaved quietly
and patiently in his cell, never expressed either fear or uneasiness at
his approaching death, nor ever let fall a warm expression against his
prosecutors, but on the contrary always spoke well of them, and prayed
heartily for them. When pressed, by the ministers who attended him, not
to pass into the other world with a lie in his mouth, but to declare
sincerely and candidly how Mary Green came by her death, he at first
looked a little confused, but at last seeming to recollect himself, he
said, _Gentlemen, I know it is my duty to give glory unto God, and to
take shame unto myself for those sins I have committed in my passage
through this life. I therefore readily acknowledge that my offences have
been black in their nature, and many in number; but for the particular
crime I am to suffer death as the punishment of it, I know no more of it
than the child that is unborn, nor am I able to say in what manner she
came by her death._ And in this he continued to persist unto the time of
his death, appearing to be very easy under his sufferings and did not
change countenance when he was told the day was fixed for his execution,
as it is ordinarily observed the other malefactors do.
As he passed through Holborn to the place of execution, he desired the
cart might stop at his master's house, which accordingly it did. Cluff
thereupon called for a pint of wine and desired to speak with Mr. Payne.
Accordingly he came out, and then he addressed himself to him in these
words. _Sir, you are not insensible that I am going to suffer an
ignominious death for what I declare I am not guilty of, as I am to
appear before my Great Judge in a few moments, to answer for all my past
sins. I hope you and my good mistress will pray for my poor soul. I pray
God bless you and all your family._ Then he spoke to somebody to bid the
carman go on. It was remarkable that he spoke this with great
composedness and seeming cheerfulness.
At the place of execution he did not lose anything of that cheerful
sedateness which he had preserved under the course of his misfortunes,
but made the responses regular to the prayers in the cart and standing
up, addressed himself in these words to the multitude. _Good People, I
die for a fact I did not commit. I have never ceased to pray for my
prosecutors most heartily, ever since I have been under sentence. I wish
all men well. My sins have been great, but I hope for God's mercy
through the merits of Jesus Christ._ Then a Psalm was sung at his own
request. Afterwards, overhearing somebody say that his mistress was in a
coach hard by his execution, he could not be satisfied until somebody
went to search and coming back assured him she was not there. As the
cart was going away he spoke again to the people saying, _I beg of you
to pray for my departing soul. I wish I was as free from all other sins
as I am of this for which I am now going to suffer._
He desired of his friends that his body might be carried to Hand Alley
in Holborn, and from thence to St. Andrew's Church, to lie in the grave
with his brother. He suffered on the 25th of July, 1719, being then
about thirty-two years of age.