"I can tell you, then," he replied, "that it was in that chair Fauntleroy,
the banker, who was hanged for forgery, was sitting when he was arrested."
"Indeed!"
"Fact, sir! I gave ten guineas for it. I thought also to have obtained the
night-cap in which he slept the night before his execution, but another
collector was beforehand with me, and bribed the turnkey to steal it for
him."
"I had no idea there could be any competition for such an article," I
observed.
"Ah! sir," said he, with a deep sigh, "you don't know the value of these
interesting relics. I have been for upwards of thirty years a collector of
them, and I have now as pretty a museum of Criminal Curiosities as you
could desire to see."
"It seems you have been indefatigable in your pursuit," said I.
"Yes," he replied, "when a man devotes himself to a great object, he must
go to it heart and soul. I have spared neither time nor money in _my_
pursuit; and since I became a collector, I have attended the execution of
every noted malefactor throughout the kingdom."
Perceiving that my attention was drawn to a common rope, which served as a
bell-pull, he said--
"I see you are remarking my bell-cord--that is the identical rope, sir,
which hanged Bellingham, who shot Mr. Perceval in the House of Commons. I
offered any sum for the one in which Thistlewood ended his life to match
it--but I was unfortunately disappointed; and the laws have now become so
disgracefully lenient, that I fear I shall never have an opportunity of
procuring a respectable companion rope for the other side of my
mantel-piece. And 'tis all owing to the rascally Whigs, sir--they have
swept away all our good old English customs, and deprived us of our
national recreations. I remember, sir, when Monday was called 'hanging
day' at the Old Bailey; on that morning a man might he certain of seeing
three or four criminals swung off before his breakfast. 'Tis a curious
study, sir, that of hanging--I have seen a great many people suffer in my
time: some go off as quiet as lambs, while others die very reluctantly. I
have remarked, sir, that 'tis very difficult to hang a Jew pedlar, or a
hackney-coachman--there's something obstinate in their nature that won't
let them die like other men. But, as I said before, the Whigs and
reformers have knocked up the hanging profession; and if it was not for
the suicides, which, I am happy to say, are as abundant as ever, I don't
know what we should do."
After my friend's indignation against the anti-hanging principles of
Reform had subsided a little, he invited me to examine his curiosities,
which he had arranged in an adjoining room.
"I have not," said he, as we were proceeding thither, "confined my
collection to objects connected with capital offenders only; it
comprehends relics of every grade of crime, from murder to petty larceny.
In that respect I am liberal, sir."
We had now reached the door of the apartment, when my conductor, seizing
my arm suddenly, pointed to the door-mat upon which I had just set my
foot, and said, "Observe that mat, sir; it is composed of oakum picked by
the fair fingers of the late Lady Barrymore, while confined in the
Penitentiary."
I cast a glance at this humble memorial of her late ladyship's industry,
and passed into the museum. In doing so, I happened to stumble over a
stable-bucket, which my friend affirmed was the one from which Thurtell
watered his horse on his way to Probert's cottage. Opening a drawer, he
produced a pair of dirty-looking slippers, the authentic property of the
celebrated Ikey Solomons; and along with them a pair of cotton hose, which
he assured me he had mangled with his own hands in Sarah Gale's mangle. In
another drawer he directed my attention to a short clay pipe, once in the
possession of Burke; and a tobacco-stopper belonging to Hare, the
notorious murderer. He had also preserved with great care Corder's
advertisement for a wife, written in his own hand, as it appeared in the
weekly papers, and a small fragment of a tile from the Red Barn, where
Maria Martin was murdered by the same Corder. He also possessed the fork
belonging to the knife with which some German, whose name I forget, cut
his wife's and children's throats; and a pewter half-quartern measure,
used at the Black Lion, in Wych-street, by Sixteen-string Jack.
There were, likewise, in the collection several interesting relics of
humorous felony; such as the snuff-box of the Cock-lane ghost--the stone
thrown by Collins at William the Fourth's head--a copy of Sir Francis
Burden's speech, for which he was committed to the Tower--an odd black
silk glove, worn by Mr. Cotton, the late ordinary of Newgate--Barrington's
silver tooth-pick--and a stay-lace of Miss Julia Newman.
These were but a small portion of the contents of the museum; but I had
seen enough to make me sick of the exhibition, and I withdrew with the
firm resolution never again, during my life, to enter the house of a
_Criminal Curiosity Hunter_.