As I have stepped in the former stories a little back in time, so in
this I shall make bold to go out of our own nation, to relate a very
extraordinary passage which happened at Paris in the beginning of the
last century, because it will serve as a notable instance of that
confusion and fear which guilt brings over the souls of the most
hardened villains and thereby renders them often instruments of justice
upon themselves; so that it seems not virtue only is its own reward, but
vice also brings upon itself those torments which it ought to feel. Thus
Providence ordereth, with inscrutable wisdom, that every man should feel
happiness or misery according as his own demeanour serves. But it is now
time that we hearken to the story.
It happened that a certain architect, who was in high esteem with the
greatest nobles in France for his excellent skill in building after the
Italian model, and had thereby obtained both a great reputation and a
large estate, being a generous and charitable man, took into his house
one Jacques Perrier, in the nature of an accountant, for the better
ordering of his affairs. For the six years that this Jacques lived in
his master's house, never any man was known to behave better or more
commendably than he did. At length he married and had children, so that
the master looking upon him as a staid discreet person, of whose
fidelity he had indubitable proofs; he therefore gave him the charge of
everything, when he went to a country house of his, a small distance
from Paris, where he sometimes stayed for a week or so to unbend his
mind and enjoy the benefit of the summer season.
At last, Jacques observing what great wealth he had acquired, began to
be covetous and desirous of obtaining it; and after having cast it long
in his head how he might obtain it, he at length resolved with himself
to join with certain villains who at that time robbed in the streets and
committed murders on the roads about Paris. Gaining notice of a house
where such people frequented, he found ways and means to be admitted
into the room where they had their consultations. And the person who
introduced him having promised for his fidelity, they listened very
attentively to the proposal which he promised to make them, and which
after a little pause, he performed in these words. _My good friends, it
is now upwards of six years since I have lived in the service of a rich
and eminent person. I thought that before this time I might have made my
fortune under him, and therefore have hitherto served him faithfully and
honestly; but finding my expectations herein deceived, I come to make
you an offer which may enrich you all. He has a house in the country,
whither he retires with his daughter and maid-servant only. These may
easily be dispatched and then all his effects will be our own. I will
venture to assure you, they will be worth ten thousand crowns._
The thieves were not a little rejoiced at the thoughts of so
extraordinary a booty, and therefore, after returning Perrier thanks,
they readily embraced his motion and promised him whatever assistance he
should require. It was not long before the unfortunate, gentleman went,
as usual, with his daughter and her maid, to enjoy the pleasures of his
rural habitation, leaving the direction of his affairs to Jacques, who
no sooner saw him safe out of Paris, but he went to give notice to his
associates that the time was now come to execute his bloody proposal.
They quickly got all things in readiness, and as soon as it was evening,
set out under the command of this desperate varlet to commit that
horrible murder which he had contrived. Arriving at the house, Perrier
knocked at the door; the maid knowing him, supposed some extraordinary
business had brought him thither, and readily opened the door. But she
was exceedingly surprised to find him followed by five ruffians oddly
dressed, masked and with large staves in their hands. However, they did
not give her much time to consider, but followed her immediately into
the kitchen, where, by the direction of their abominable leader, they
immediately, with many cruel blows, put her to death. From thence they
went upstairs into the old gentleman's apartment, and found him sitting
upon his bed. As soon as they entered, _Perrier_, said his master, _is
it thus that you return that kindness with which I have always treated
you. Did I not take you from misery and want. Have I not maintained you,
and put it in your power to maintain your family? Will you repay this my
charity with robbing me of all I have? Must the tenderness I have shown
towards you draw upon me death from your hands, and do you not think
that the same God who hath seen me cherish and relieve you, will not
bring upon you condign punishment for this execrable villainy thou art
going to commit?_
Perrier was sensible of the truth of what he said, but knowing it was
impossible for him to go back, he gave a sign to the murderers to fall
about the execution of their work; but the old man, who was too wise to
expect mercy from their hands, endeavoured to lay hold of a halbert
which stood in his room, designing therewith, as well as he could, to
defend himself. But before he could get it into his hands the villains
struck him down, and with thirty or forty wounds gave a passage for his
soul into a better life.
The unfortunate young lady lay in the next room to her father's, and
being already got to bed, heard with astonishment the execrable fact.
However, full of fear and astonishment, she covered herself with the bed
clothes, and endeavoured all she was able, to hide herself in the bed.
But alas, her caution was to small purpose. Perrier knew too well the
situation of all things to be deceived by so trivial an artifice, and
therefore after pulling the bedclothes into the middle of the floor, he
exposed, naked, to his fellow ruffians, the most beautiful young lady in
France. In vain she fell upon her knees, and with all that tender
elocution so natural to their sex when in distress, besought them that
they would spare her life, which, as she said, could be of no benefit to
them, and could only serve to increase the number of their sins; but
they were too much flushed in cruelty and blood to give any attention to
her entreaties, and so without respect either to the softness of her
sex, or to her tender age, with a shower of blows from their clubs they
laid her dead upon the floor. Being thus become master of the house,
Perrier took the keys, and opening the several apartments, disclosed to
them all the riches of his deceased master. They immediately brought
away all the ready money they found in the house, which amounted to
little less than ten thousand crowns. All the rich movables they
conveyed away to a boat which they had prepared for that purpose, and
had fastened in a creek of the river on a bank of which the house stood.
They loaded and unloaded this vessel five or six times, for there was no
hurry in carrying away the goods, seeing it was the dead time of the
night, and when they had thoroughly plundered it of everything that
would yield money, they then came away and went to the place where they
laid up their spoils. There it was resolved to divide the booty, and
Perrier claimed the largest share, as well in right of his having put
them upon that project, as that he had assisted more strenuously in the
execution of it than any of them; for when men associate themselves to
commit wickedness, he who surpasses the rest in villainy claims the same
reward, and from the same reasons, as he who in another society
surpasses all his neighbours in virtue. When this execrable fact was
over, and he had secured his share in the plunder, he returned home to
the house of his master, and remained in carrying on the ordinary course
of business of his master.
About two days after, it happened that a man who had business with the
old gentleman called at his country house, and after knocking a good
while at the door, finding that nobody answered, he went to town, and
meeting with Jacques Perrier at his master's house, he told him of his
calling upon him in the country, and that he found nobody there. Jacques
counterfeited the greatest surprise at the news, and calling many
assistants, went down immediately to his master's seat, and with all the
seeming horror imaginable, became a second time a witness of those
barbarities which he and his villainous associates had committed. At the
sight of the murdered maid in the kitchen, he cried out with the
greatest vehemence, and seemed in an agony of sorrow; but when he saw
the body of his master, he roared and stamped, he cried out, tore his
hair and threw himself upon the body as if he had never more intended to
have drawn breath. All the persons he had carried with him were
effectually deceived by his behaviour, and were under apprehensions lest
his too violent grief should throw him into a fever or prompt him to lay
hands upon himself. He was not contented with acting thus upon the spot,
but resolved to play it over again when he came back to Paris. There
abundance of people pitied him, and looked on him as one whom the
sincere love he had for his master had drawn to the utmost despair by
reason of his unfortunate death.
But one of the old gentleman's relations, who was a man of more
penetration than the rest, began to suspect his excessive affliction,
and by his arguments drew another gentleman, who was also interested in
the family affairs, to be of his opinion; whereupon Jacques was
apprehended on suspicion and sent to prison. Solitude and confinement
are often the roads to repentance and confession, for the vanities of
the world being no longer before them, in such cases people are apt to
retire into the recesses of their own breasts, and having no avocations
from considering how they have spent their former years, the reflection
often extorts truth which would never be by any other method
discovered. But it was not so with Perrier. His dissimulation was of a
stronger contexture, and not to be broken even by sorrow and
confinement. He not only continued to deny the knowledge of the murder,
but also to lament the loss of so indulgent a master, with such floods
of tears, and so many strong appearances of real sorrow and affection
that, no proof appearing against him, the magistrates were afraid of
having themselves reproached with injustice if they had not given him
his liberty, to which, after six months imprisonment, he was restored.
The rest of the assassins seeing a long space of time elapsed, and that
still not the least discovery was made of the murder, laid aside all
fears of being taken, and began to appear more openly than hitherto they
had done since the perpetration of that fact. But in the midst of their
security the Providence of God forced them to betray themselves; for as
the father, son and cousin, who were all concerned in the murder, were
sitting with one Masson, another of the confederates, making merry at a
public-house, on a sudden they turned their heads and saw ten or twelve
archers or marshal's men (who have the same authority as constables in
our country) who by chance met together and came into the house to
drink. Guilt on a sudden struck the whole company with apprehensions
that they were come in search of them, the fear of which made them throw
down their knives and forks, leave what they had upon the table and fly
with the utmost precipitation, as supposing they ran for their lives.
This extravagant behaviour struck the archers with amazement, and
immediately calling for the landlord, they enquired of him what should
be the sudden cause of this terror in his guests. He replied that it was
impossible for him to tell certainly, but from discourse which he had
heard, he took them to be persons of no very honest character, and from
the great sums of money he had heard them count out, he was apprehensive
that they had committed some robbery or other. There wanted not any
farther account to stir up the archers to a pursuit, from whence they
already assured themselves they should be considerable gainers, the
thing speaking for itself, since honest people are not used to fall into
such panics; but only guilt creates apprehensions in men at the sight of
the ministers of justice. Immediately, therefore, the officers pursued
them in the road they had taken, and the old man being less able to
travel than the rest, in about two hours time they came up with him at
the side of a rivulet, where, for very weariness he had stopped as not
being able to cross it.
No sooner did they come up to him but he surrendered, and fear having
brought a sudden repentance, he, without any equivocation, began to
confess all the crimes of his life. He said that it was true they all of
them deserved death, and he was content to suffer; he said, moreover,
that in the course of his life he had murdered upwards of three-score
with his own hands. He also carried the officers to an island in the
river, which was the usual place of the execution of those innocents who
fell into the hands of their gang, and acknowledged that of all the
offences he had committed, nothing gave him so much pain as the having
murdered a hopeful young gentleman (for the sake of a trifle of money
which he had about him) by putting a stone about his neck and sinking
him in the water.
Of the other three, two were apprehended, but the third made his escape
and was running hastily with the news to Jacques Perrier and their other
companions, but he was soon after seized, and carried to prison with the
rest, none escaping from the hands of Justice but Masson and the cruel
Perrier, the author of all this mischief. The three who were in prison
endured the torture with the greatest constancy, absolutely denying that
they knew anything of the murders and robberies which had been
committed, yet when they were confronted by the old man, their courage
deserted them, they acknowledged the fact, and judgment was pronounced
upon them that they should be broke alive upon the wheel, before the
house of the unfortunate architect whom they had murdered.
When they were brought there, with a strong guard, to suffer that
punishment to which the Law had so justly doomed them, they appeared to
be very penitent and sorrowful for their crimes, and one of them in
particular did, with greatest vehemency, beseech the pardon of Almighty
God, of the king his sovereign, and of his people whom he had so much
injured, declaring that he could not die in peace without informing the
multitude who were assembled to behold their execution, of a certain
kind of villainy in which he was particularly concerned. He said it was
his custom to watch about the sides of the road which lay near the
woods, and that having a cord with him, he suddenly threw it about the
neck of any passenger who was coming by, and therewith immediately
strangled him before he was aware, or capable of resisting them, and if
at any time there came by several passengers together who demanded what
he did there, he replied that he was sent thither by his master to catch
a cow; and his going in the habit of a peasant gave such an aspect of
truth to the story that he was never suspected.
Though the concourse of people be generally very great, yet the
assembly on this occasion was much larger than ordinary, and those who
were spectators, contrary to the ordinary custom, showed but very little
compassion at the miserable tortures which those wretches endured. On
the contrary, they continually cried out that they should discover what
was become of Perrier and their other accomplice, Masson. These
unfortunate men continued to assert in their last moments that they knew
nothing of either of them, but supposed that, hearing of their
apprehension, they had immediately made their escape, and were retired
as far as they were able from the danger. The people were infinitely
satisfied with the death of these assassins, and nothing was wanting to
complete the triumph of Justice but the apprehension of Perrier and his
associate, to whose adventures it is now time that we return, in order
to display the severe justice of Providence, and the admirable methods
by which it disappoints all the courses that human wit can invent in
order to frustrate its intent.
Masson had hid himself in a village not far from the city of Tours,
where he concealed himself so effectually that the inhabitants had not
the least suspicion of his being a dishonest man. On the contrary, he
applied himself to an honest way of getting his livelihood, and after
sojourning there for a considerable space, he married a young woman,
with the consent of her parents, and seemed to be now established in a
state of peace and security, if it were possible for a guilty soul to
know either security or peace. A trivial accident, in which no man but
Masson would have had a hand, proved the instrument by which he was
drawn to suffering that cruel death which his companions had before
undergone, and he so justly deserved.
There was, it seems, a young country fellow in the neighbourhood where
Masson lived, who was just married, and according to a silly notion
which prevails not only among the peasants of France but also among the
clowns of all other nations in Europe, fancied himself bewitched by some
charm or other, which rendered him incapable of performing the rites of
his marriage bed. Masson thereupon offered, if he would give him a
reasonable gratuity, to free him from this insupportable malady, and a
bargain was accordingly struck for four crowns, two of which the fellow
gave him in his hand, and two more were to be paid on the accomplishment
of the cure, when there were no more complaints of insufficiency. Upon
this he immediately demanded the other two crowns, which the other
refused, and our infatuated thief brought the cause before the
magistrates, where, when it came to be examined, it appeared plainly
that Masson had bragged to his companions that he had wrought the
charm, for the undoing of which he now claimed a reward. And as the
Justice of the Court required, he was sentenced to be banished as a
sorcerer, after being first whipped at all the cross-streets in town.
But behold the marvellous conduct of Divine Justice. He appealed from
this sentence to the parliament at Paris, whither he was no sooner
conducted under a strong guard, but he was immediately known to be one
of that gang of assassins which had been executed for the murder of
Perrier's master and family. Immediately he was charged with this fact,
and the heirs of that unfortunate gentleman prosecuted their charge with
such vigour that he received the like judgment, to be broken alive upon
the wheel at the same place where his associates had suffered death;
which sentence was rigorously executed five years after the perpetration
of that execrable fact.
There remained nobody but Jacques Perrier, the author and contriver of
this horrid villainy, who had not suffered according to their deserts.
He, after hiding himself for a while, until he saw what became of his
companions, hastily betook himself to flight, and endeavoured to fly
into England, where, if he once arrived, he knew he should remain in
safety. But in this attempt he was disappointed (although nobody pursued
him), for being arrived at Calais, the same covetous and wicked
disposition which had prompted him to murder so kind a master and all
his family, egged him on to rob a certain rich merchant there, which
villainous design he effected whilst the gentleman was at church. But he
gained not much by that, for the booty being too large to be concealed,
he was very quickly apprehended and for this fact condemned to be
hanged. He had more wit, however, than his companion, Masson, and
therefore never dreamt of appealing to the parliament of Paris, where he
knew he should meet with the same fate which had befallen the rest of
the gang. However, when he came to suffer that death which was appointed
him by Law, he did not stick to acknowledge that execrable parricide
which he had projected, as well as carried into execution; so that when
the news reached Paris, it occasioned universal joy that not one of
these bloody villains had escaped, but were so wonderfully cut off, when
they themselves fancied the danger to be over.
The French author from whom I have transcribed this account hath swelled
the relation with much of that false eloquence which was so common in
the last age, not only in France, but throughout all Europe. Except that
I have rejected this, I have been very faithful in this translation, the
story appearing to me to be very extraordinary in its kind, and worthy
therefore of being known to the public, since it will sufficiently
declare that as vice prevails generally throughout all countries and
climates, stirring up men to cruel and atrocious deeds, so the eye of
Providence is continually watchful, and suffers not the blood of
innocents to cry out for revenge in vain. It remains that I inform my
readers that this villainy was transacted about the year 1611, and that
Masson and Jacques Perrier suffered in the year 1616.
The Lives of ABRAHAM WHITE, FRANCIS SANDERS, JOHN MINES, _alias_
MINSHAM, _alias_ MITCHELL, and CONSTANCE BUCKLE, Thieves and
Housebreakers
Of these unfortunate lads, Abraham White was born of mean parents who
had it not in their power to give him much education, but taught him,
however, the business of a bricklayer, which was his father's trade, and
by which, doubtless, if he had been careful, he might have got his
bread. But he unfortunately addicting himself from childhood to drinking
and lewd company, soon plunged himself into all manner of wickedness,
and quickly brought on a fatal necessity of stepping into the road of
the gallows; and associating himself with Sanders and Minsham, they had
all gone together upon the road for about six weeks before they were
taken.
Francis Sanders was a young fellow of very tolerable arts and education.
He had been put out apprentice to a stay-maker, attained to a great
proficiency in his trade; and by the help of his friends, who were very
willing to lend him their assistance, he might have done very well in
the world if it had not been for that unfortunate inclination to roving,
which continually possessed him. His acquaintance with a certain bad
woman was in all probability the first cause of his addicting himself to
ill-courses, and as in the papers I have before me relating to him, her
history is also contained, I thought it would not be unentertaining to
my readers if I ventured to insert it. This woman's true name was Mary
Smith. She was brought up, while young, from her native country of
Yorkshire to London, where getting into the service of an eminent
shopkeeper, she might, had she been honest and industrious, have lived
easily and with credit; but unfortunately both for herself and her
master's apprentice, the young man took a liking to her, and one night,
having first taken care to make himself master of the key of her door,
he came out of his chamber into hers, where after a faint resistance,
he got to bed to her. Their correspondence was carried on for a good
while without suspicion, but the young man having one night stole a
bottle of rum with a design that it should make his mistress and he
merry together before they went to bed, they inconsiderately drank so
heartily of it that the next morning they slept so sound that their
master and mistress came upstairs at ten o'clock, and found them in bed
together. Upon this, the wench, without more ado, was turned out of
doors, and was forced to live at an alehouse of ill-repute, where
Sanders used to come of an evening, and so got acquainted with her.
John Minsham was an unfortunate wretch, born of mean parents, and
equally destitute of capacity or education. From the time he had been
able to crawl alone, he had known scarce any other home than the street.
Shoe-blacks and such like vagabonds were his constant companions, and
the only honest employment he ever pretended to was that of a
hackney-coachman, which the brethren of the whip had taught him out of
charity.
Thus furnished with bad principles, and every way fitted for those
detestable practices into which they precipitated themselves, they first
got into one another's company at a dram-shop near St. Giles in the
Fields, much frequented by Constance Buckle, a most lewd and abandoned
strumpet, and one Rowland Jones, a fellow of as bad principles as
themselves. One night, having intoxicated themselves with the vile
manufacture of the house, they went out, after they had spent their
money, and in Bloomsbury Square attacked one John Ross, from whom they
took away a hat value five shillings, and fourpence halfpenny in money.
This man, it seems, lived the very next door to the gin-shop where they
frequented. Going there the next day, to make complaint, he was
immediately told that the people who had robbed him had sold his hat,
and were coming thither by and by to drink the money out in gin. Upon
this information Ross procured proper assistance, and the people keeping
their appointment pretty exactly, were all surprised and taken.
In the confusion they were under when first apprehended, Minsham and
Sanders in part owned the fact, but Rowland Jones making a full and
frank discovery, was accepted as an evidence, and produced against them
at their trial at the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey, where, upon
full evidence, they were all convicted of this fact, and Francis
Sanders, Constance Buckle, and Robert Tyler, were indicted for
assaulting Richard Smith on the highway, putting him in fear, and taking
from him a hat value five shillings.
Rowland Jones, the evidence, deposed that the night the robbery was
committed he was in company with the prisoners at a brandy shop, where
having drunk until they were all pretty much elevated, they went out in
order to see what they could pick up. And not far from the place they
went from, overtaking a man whom they saw had a pretty good hat on,
Sanders hit him a blow in the face, and that not doing the business, he
repeated it, and at the second blow, the hat fell off from his head,
whereupon Constance Buckle caught it and clapped it under her coat. The
constable deposed that by the information of Rowland Jones, he
apprehended the prisoners. Constance Buckle acknowledged that she was in
their company when the man was knocked down and the hat taken, whereupon
the jury, without withdrawing, found them guilty, and they received
sentence of death.
The woman Constance Buckle pleaded her being with child, and a jury of
matrons being impannelled, they found she was quick, and thereby
procured her a respite of execution, and soon after her sentence was
changed to transportation. The rest, under conviction, behaved
themselves very indifferently, and manifested sufficiently that though
custom and an evil disposition might make them bold in the commission of
robberies, yet when death looked them steadily and unavoidably in the
face, all that resolution forsook them, and in their last moments they
behaved with all the appearances of terror which are usually seen in
souls just awakened to a due sense of their guilt. They died on the 23rd
of December, 1730; White being eighteen, Sanders near eighteen, and
Minsham sixteen years of age.