Wrinkled, crabbed, grim and old;
And Tom and Jerry's fancy ladies
Are gone to get their Fortunes told.
CUT VI.--BEGGAR'S OPERA. TOM, JERRY, AND LOGICK AMONG THE CADGERS IN THE
HOLY LAND.
[Illustration]
Now to keep up the spree, Tom, Jerry and Logick,
Went disguis'd to the Slums in the Holy Land;
Through each crib and each court, they hunted for sport,
Till they came to the BEGGAR'S OPERA so named.
CUT VII.--NIGHT SCENE.--TOM AND JERRY UPSETTING THE CHARLEYS.
[Illustration]
Hark! the watchman springs his rattle,
Now the midnight lark's begun;
Boxes crashing, lanthorns smashing,
Mill the Charleys--oh! what fun.
CUT VIII.--BROUGHT BEFORE THE MAGISTRATES.
[Illustration]
An' please your Worship here's three fellows
Been hammering of us all about;
Broke our boxes, lanthorns, smellers,
And almost clos'd our peepers up.
CUT IX.--TOM, JERRY, AND LOGICK IN A ROW.
[Illustration]
Mercy! what a din and clatter
Breaks the stillness of the night,
Lamps do rattle--'tis a battle,
Quick, and let us see the sight.
CUT X.--SCENE IN A GIN-SHOP.
[Illustration]
Here some are tumbling and jumping in,
And some are staggering out;
One's pawn'd her smock for a quartern of gin,
Another, her husband's coat.
CUT XI.--POOR LOGICK IN THE FLEET.
[Illustration]
All in the Fleet poor Logick's moor'd
His swaggering's now at an end!
CUT XII.--JERRY GOING BACK TO THE COUNTRY.
[Illustration]
Three merry boys were Logick, Tom and Jerry,
And many funny larks they have seen;
Farewell, gay London, the country calls me home again,
The coach moves on--the play is done--Goodbye, Goodbye.
_Quod._ JAS. C-N-H, March 23, 1822.
How delightful Pierce Egan's book was to the youths of England, and how
eagerly all its promised feasts of pleasure were devoured by them,
Thackeray has told us in his "Roundabout Papers--DE JUVENTUTE" in the
"Cornhill Magazine" for October, 1860.
* * * * *
Mr., afterwards Sir William Cubitt, of Ipswich, erected a treadmill at
Brixton Gaol, and soon afterwards in other large prisons. A street ballad
on the subject was issued from the "Catnach Press" and had a most
unprecedented sale, keeping the pressmen and boys working for weeks--
"And we're all treading at fam'd Brixton Mill."
The treadmill--that "terror to evil doers"--excited much attention, and
the inventor's name gave rise to many jokes on the subject among such of
the prisoners as could laugh at their own crimes, who said they were
punished by the _cubit_!.
THE TREADMILL.
This Brixton Mill's a fearful ill,
And he who brought the Bill in,
Is threat'n'd by the _cribbing_ coves,
That he shall have a _milling_.
They say he shew'd a simple pate,
To think of felons mending;
As every _step_ which here they take
They're still in crime _ascending_.
Tom, Jerry, Logic, three prime sprigs,
Find here they cannot _come_ it,
For though their _fancy_ soars aloft,
They ne'er will reach the _summit_.
Corinthian Kate and buxom Sue
Must change their _warm_ direction,
For if they make one _false step_ more
They'll have _Cold Bath Correction_.
[Illustration: "The gallows does well: But how does it well? it does well
to those that do ill."--_Hamlet_, Act v., sc. i.]
There can be little doubt that Jemmy Catnach, the great publisher of the
Seven Dials, had his mind mostly centred upon the chronicling of doubtful
scandals, fabulous duels between ladies of fashion, "cooked"
assassinations, and sudden deaths of eminent individuals, apochryphal
elopements, real or catch-penny account of murders, impossible robberies,
delusive suicides, dark deeds, and--though last, not least, in _his_
love--public executions, _vulgo_ "Hanging Matches," to which was usually
attached the all-important and necessary "Sorrowful Lamentations," or
"Copy of Affectionate Verses," which according to the established custom,
the criminal composed in the condemned cell the night before his
execution, after this manner:--
[Illustration]
THE FLYING STATIONER, OTHERWISE PATTERER.
"All you that have got feeling, I pray you now attend
To these few lines so sad and true, a solemn silence lend;
It is of a cruel murder, to you I will unfold----
The bare recital of the tale must make your blood run cold."
"Mercy on earth I'll not implore, to crave it would be vain,
My hands are dyed with human gore, none can wash off the stain,
But the merits of a Saviour, whose mercy alone I crave;
Good Christians pray, as thus I die, I may His pardon have."
A mournful and affecting
COPY OF VERSES
on the death of
ANN WILLIAMS,
Who was barbarously and cruelly murdered by her sweetheart,
W. JONES, near Wirksworth, in Derbyshire, July, 1823.
William Jones, a young man aged 20, has been fully committed to Derby
gaol for the murder of his sweetheart, under circumstances of unheard
of barbarity. The poor victim was a servant girl, whom under pretence
of marriage he seduced. On her proving with child the villain formed
the horrid design of murdering her, and carried his diabolical plan
into execution on Monday evening last. The following verses are
written upon the occasion, giving a complete detail of this shocking
affair:--
Come all false hearted young men
And listen to my song,
'Tis of a cruel murder,
That lately has been done
On the body of a maiden fair
The truth I will unfold,
The bare relation of this deed
Will make your blood run cold.
Near Wirksworth town in Derbyshire,
Ann Williams she did dwell,
In service she long time had lived,
Till this to her befel.
Her cheeks were like the blushing rose
All in the month of May,
Which made this wicked young man
Thus unto her did say:
Nancy, my charming creature,
You have my heart ensnared,
My love is such I am resolved
To wed you I declare.
Thus by his false deluding tongue
Poor Nancy was beguil'd,
And soon to her misfortune,
By him she proved with child.
Some days ago this damsel fair
Did write to him with speed,
Such tenderness she did express
Would make a heart to bleed.
She said, my dearest William,
I am with child by thee;
Therefore, my dear, pray let me know
When you will marry me.
The following day at evening,
This young man did repair,
Unto the town of Wirksworth,
To meet his Nancy there.
Saying, Nancy dear, come let us walk,
Among the flowery fields,
And then the secrets of my heart
To you I will reveal.
O then this wicked young man
A knife he did provide,
And all unknown to his true love
Concealed it by his side.
When to the fatal spot they came,
These words to her did say:
All on this very night I will
Your precious life betray.
On bended knees she then did fall,
In sorrow and despair,
Aloud for mercy she did call,
Her cries did rend the air;
With clasped hands and uplift eyes
She cried, Oh spare my life,
I never more will ask you
To make me your wedded wife.
O then this wicked young man said,
No mercy will I show;
He took the knife all from his side,
And pierced her body through.
But still she smiling said to him
While trembling with fear,
Aä! William, William, spare my life,
Think on your baby dear.
Twice more then with the bloody knife
He ran her body through,
Her throat was cut from ear to ear,
Most dreadful for to view;
Her hands and arms and beauteous face
He cut and mangled sore,
While down upon her milk white breast
The crimson blood did pour.
He took the shawl from off her neck,
And round her body tied,
With pebble stones he did it fill,
Thinking the crime to hide.
O then into the silver stream
He plunged her straightway,
But with her precious blood was stained
Which soon did him betray.
O then this young man taken was,
And into prison sent,
In ratling chains he is confin'd
His crime for to lament,
Until the Assizes do come on
When trembling he must stand,
Reflecting on the deed he's done;
Waiting the dread command.
Now all you thoughtless young men
A timely warning take;
Likewise ye fair young maidens,
For this poor damsel's sake.
And Oh beware of flattering tongues,
For they'll your ruin prove;
So may you crown your future day,
In comfort, joy, and love.
Or take another and stereotyped example, which from time to time has
served equally well for the verses _written by_ the culprit--Brown, Jones,
Robinson, or Smith:
"Those deeds I mournfully repent,
But now it is too late,
The day is past, the die is cast,
And fixed is my fate.
I see the hangman before me stand,
Ready to seize me by the law's command;
When my life is ended on the fatal tree,
Then will be clear'd up all mystery."
Occasionally the Last Sorrowful Lamentation contained a "Love Letter"--the
criminal being unable, in some instances, to read or write, being no
obstacle to the composition--written according to the street patterer's
statement: "from the depths of the condemned cell, with the condemned pen,
ink, and paper." This mode of procedure in "gallows" literature, and this
style of composition having prevailed for from sixty to seventy years.
Then they would say: "Here you have also an exact likeness of the
murderer, taken at the bar of the Old Bailey by an eminent artist!" when
all the time it was an old woodcut that had been used for every criminal
for many years. The _block!_ opposite, to our own knowledge, served as the
_counterfeit_ presentment of all popular murderers for upwards of forty
years.
[Illustration: LIKENESS OF THE MURDERER.]
"There's nothing beats a stunning good murder after all," said a "running
patterer" to Mr. Henry Mayhew, the author of "London Labour and London
Poor." It is only fair to assume that Mr. James Catnach shared in the
sentiment, for it is said that he made over £500 by the publication of:--
"The Full, True and Particular Account of the Murder of Mr. Weare by
John Thurtell and his Companions, which took place on the 24th of
October, 1823, in Gill's Hill-lane, near Elstree, in
Hertfordshire:--Only One Penny."
There were eight formes set up, for old Jemmy had no notion of
stereotyping in those days, and pressmen had to re-cover their own
tympans with sheep-skins. But by working day and night for a week they
managed to get off about 250,000 copies with the four presses, each
working two formes at a time.
[Illustration: THURTELL MURDERING MR. WEARE.]
As the trial progressed, and the case became more fully developed, the
public mind became almost insatiable. Every night and morning large
bundles were despatched to the principal towns in the three kingdoms.
One of the many street-ballads on the subject informed the British public
that:--
"Thurtell, Hunt, and Probert, too, for trial must now prepare,
For that horrid murder of Mr. William Weare."
The circumstances immediately attending the murder are so fully and so
well detailed in the proper channels that we need not here say more than
that the trial took place at Hertford on the 5th January, 1824.
The prisoners who stood indicted were John Thurtell and Joseph Hunt. The
latter was at the time well known as a public singer and was somewhat
celebrated for the talent which he possessed. Both prisoners were found
guilty, but Hunt was reprieved and subsequently ordered to be transported
for life. Thurtell, who fully confessed to the crime, was executed in
front of Hertford gaol on Friday, the 9th of January, 1824.
As before observed, Catnach cleared over £500 by this event, and was so
loth to leave it, that when a wag put him up to a joke, and showed him how
he might set the thing a-going again, he could not withstand it; and so,
about a fortnight after Thurtell had been hanged, Jemmy brought out a
startling broad-sheet, headed, "WE ARE ALIVE AGAIN!" He put so little
space between the words "WE" and "ARE" that it looked at first sight like
"WEARE." Many thousands were bought by the ignorant and gullible public,
but those who did not like the trick called it a "catch penny," and this
gave rise to this peculiar term, which ever afterwards stuck to the issues
of the "Seven Dials' Press," though they sold as well as ever.
Probert, who had been mixed up in the affair, was admitted as King's
evidence and discharged at the rising of the Court. He subsequently met
the fate he so richly deserved, for, having been found guilty at the Old
Bailey of horse stealing, he was executed there on the 20th of June, 1825.
[Illustration]
THE CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OF JOHN THURTELL
At HERTFORD GAOL, On Friday, the 9th of January, 1824.
THE EXECUTION.
_Hertford, half-past twelve o'clock._
This morning, at ten minutes before twelve, a bustle among the
javelin-men stationed within the boarded enclosure on which the drop
was erected, announced to the multitude without that the preparations
for the execution were nearly concluded. The javelin-men proceeded to
arrange themselves in the order usually observed upon these melancholy
but necessary occurrences. They had scarcely finished their
arrangements, when the opening of the gate of the prison gave an
additional impulse to public anxiety
When the clock was on the stroke of twelve, Mr Nicholson, the
Under-Sheriff, and the executioner ascended the platform, followed on
to it by Thurtell, who mounted the stairs with a slow but steady step.
The principal turnkey of the gaol came next, and was followed by Mr
Wilson and two officers. On the approach of the prisoner being
intimated by those persons who, being in an elevated situation,
obtained the first view of him, all the immense multitude present took
off their hats.
Thurtell immediately placed himself under the fatal beam, and at that
moment the chimes of a neighbouring clock began to strike twelve. The
executioner then came forward with the rope, which he threw across it.
Thurtell first lifted his eyes up to the drop, gazed at it for a few
moments, and then took a calm but hurried survey of the multitude
around him. He next fixed his eyes on a young gentleman in the crowd,
whom he had frequently seen as a spectator at the commencement of the
proceedings against him. Seeing that the individual was affected by
the circumstance, he removed them to another quarter, and in so doing
recognised an individual well known in the sporting circles, to whom
he made a slight bow.
The prisoner was attired in a dark brown great coat, with a black
velvet collar, white corduroy breeches, drab gaiters and shoes. His
hands were confined with handcuffs, instead of being tied with cord,
as is usually the case on such occasions, and, at his own request, his
arms were not pinioned. He wore a pair of black kid gloves, and the
wrists of his shirt were visible below the cuffs of his coat. As on
the last day of his trial, he wore a white cravat. The irons, which
were very heavy, and consisted of a succession of chain links, were
still on his legs, and were held up in the middle by a Belcher
handkerchief tied round his waist.
The executioner commenced his mournful duties by taking from the
unhappy prisoner his cravat and collar. To obviate all difficulty in
this stage of the proceedings, Thurtell flung back his head and neck,
and so gave the executioner an opportunity of immediately divesting
him of that part of his dress. After tying the rope round Thurtell's
neck, the executioner drew a white cotton cap over his countenance,
which did not, however, conceal the contour of his face, or deprive
him entirely of the view of surrounding objects.
At that moment the clock sounded the last stroke of twelve. During the
whole of this appalling ceremony, there was not the slightest symptom
of emotion discernible in his features; his demeanour was perfectly
calm and tranquil, and he behaved like a man acquainted with the
dreadful ordeal he was about to pass, but not unprepared to meet it.
Though his fortitude was thus conspicuous, it was evident from his
appearance that in the interval between his conviction and his
execution he must have suffered much. He looked careworn; his
countenance had assumed a cadaverous hue, and there was a haggardness
and lankness about his cheeks and mouth, which could not fail to
attract the notice of every spectator.
The executioner next proceeded to adjust the noose by which Thurtell
was to be attached to the scaffold. After he had fastened it in such a
manner as to satisfy his own mind, Thurtell looked up at it, and
examined it with great attention. He then desired the executioner to
let him have fall enough. The rope at this moment seemed as if it
would only give a fall of two or three feet The executioner assured
him that the fall was quite sufficient. The principal turnkey then
went up to Thurtell, shook hands with him, and turned away in tears.
Mr Wilson, the governor of the gaol, next approached him. Thurtell
laid to him, "Do you think, Mr Wilson, I have got enough fall?" Mr
Wilson replied, "I think you have, Sir. Yes, quite enough." Mr Wilson
then took hold of his hand, shook it, and said, "Good bye, Mr
Thurtell, may God Almighty bless you." Thurtell instantly replied,
"God bless _you_, Mr Wilson, God bless _you_." Mr Wilson next asked
him whether he considered that the laws of his country had been dealt
to him justly and fairly, upon which he said, "I admit that justice
has been done me--I am perfectly satisfied."
A few seconds then elapsed, during which every person seemed to be
engaged in examining narrowly Thurtell's deportment His features, as
well as they could be discerned, appeared to remain unmoved, and his
hands, which were extremely prominent, continued perfectly steady, and
were not affected by the slightest tremulous motion.
Exactly at two minutes past twelve the Under-Sheriff, with his wand,
gave the dreadful signal--the drop suddenly and silently fell--and
JOHN THURTELL WAS LAUNCHED INTO ETERNITY.
On the 10th of September, 1824, Henry Fauntleroy, of the firm of Marsh,
Stracey, Fauntleroy, and Graham, bankers, in Berners-street, was
apprehended in consequence of its being discovered that in September,
1820, £10,000 3 per cent stock, standing in the names of himself, J. D.
Hume, and John Goodchild, as trustees of Francis William Bellis, had been
sold out under a power of attorney, to which the names of his co-trustees
and some of the subscribing witnesses were forged. It was soon ascertained
that the extent to which this practice had been carried was enormous, no
less than £170,000 stock having been sold out in 1814 and 1815 by the same
fraudulent means.
Every exertion was used by Mr. Fauntleroy's counsel, his case being twice
argued before the Judges, but both decisions were against him; and on the
30th of November, 1824, his execution took place. The number of persons
assembled was estimated at nearly 100,000.
The station in society of this unfortunate man, and the long-established
respectability of the banking-house, in which he was the most active
partner, with the vast extent of the forgeries committed, gave to his case
an intensity of interest which has scarcely ever been equalled, and during
the whole time it was pending afforded plenty of work for the printers and
vendors of street literature. Catnach's advanced position, which was now
far beyond all his compeers, caused him to get the lion's share. Every
incident in the man's character, history, and actions was taken advantage
of. The sheets, almost wet from the press, were read by high and low; by
those who lived and revelled in marble halls and gilded saloons, as well
as by those who thronged our large towns and centres of industry.
The parliamentary election of 1826, for the county of Northumberland, the
principal seat of which was at Alnwick, gave early promise of being
severely contested. There were four candidates in the field, namely, Henry
Thomas Liddell, afterwards first Earl of Ravensworth, of Ravensworth
Castle, county Durham; Mr. Matthew Bell, of Woolsingham, Northumberland;
Mr. Thomas Wentworth Beaumont, and Lord Howick, afterwards Henry the third
Earl Grey, K.G. The nomination of the candidates took place on Tuesday,
June 20th, 1826, and the polling continued till July 6th, when the result
was as follows:--
Liddell 1562
Bell 1380
Beaumont 1335
Howick 997
This contest was the greatest political event in the history of the
county. It is estimated that it cost the candidates little short of
£250,000.
Now, as we have before observed, Mr. Mark Smith--who till the time of his
death, on the 18th of May, 1881, aged 87--carried on the business of
printer and bookseller at Alnwick--and James Catnach, were fellow
apprentices, both being bound to learn the art of printing to the elder
Catnach on the same day. This early-formed acquaintanceship continued
throughout the remaining portion of Catnach's life, and whenever Mr. Mark
Smith came to London in after years, he always visited Jemmy's house.
It was in consequence of the continued friendship existing between Mr.
Mark Smith and Jemmy Catnach that the latter had often expressed a desire
to serve his fellow-apprentice, should circumstances occur to render it
necessary. The Alnwick election of 1826 promised to be a good one as
regarded printing, and Mr. Smith anticipating a difficulty in getting
through his work, applied to Catnach to know if he could render him any
assistance. The result was that Jemmy at once proffered to go to Alnwick
and take with him a small hand-press. After his arrival he seldom went out
of the house, as all hands worked early and late, for, besides addresses,
squibs, &c., they had to get out the state of the poll every afternoon,
shortly after four o'clock. The number of addresses and squibs, in prose
and verse, during this memorable election was enormous. The whole, when
collected together, forms four good-sized volumes. The principal printers
in Alnwick at this time, and who were engaged by the candidates, were
Smith, Davison, and Graham. But there was a great deal of printing done at
Newcastle, Gateshead, North Shields, Morpeth, and other towns.
There can be but little doubt that all who were professionally engaged at
this election made a good thing out of it. The money spent upon printing
alone must have been very great. And nearly all the public-houses in
Alnwick were made "open houses," as well as most of those in the principal
towns throughout the county. Old people talk to this day, with a degree of
pride of "those good old times" that existed at the Parliamentary
elections previous to the passing of the Reform Bill of 1832. As far as
Catnach was concerned, he merely went to help to pay off a deep debt of
gratitude owing by him to the Smith family for many past favours to his
own family when they were in dire distress in _auld lang syne_. Besides,
Jemmy was now getting towards that state known as being "comfortably
well-to-do," and the trip was a change of air--a bit of a holiday, and a
visit to the town of his birth. And as he had buried his mother in London
during the early part of the year, he took the opportunity to erect in the
parish churchyard, that which at once stands as a cenotaph and a
tombstone, bearing the following inscription:--
"JOHN, Son of JOHN CATNACH,
Printer, died August 27th,
1794, Aged 5 years & 7 months.
JOHN CATNACH died in
LONDON, 1813, Aged 44.
MARY, his wife died Jany.
24th, 1826, Aged 60 years,
Also John, Margaret, and
Jane Catnach, lie here."[9]
During Catnach's absence from London on the Alnwick election, his old
rivals--the Pitts family--were, as usual, concocting false reports, and
exhibiting lampoons, after the following manner:--
"Poor Jemmy with the son of Old Nick,
Down to Northumberland he's gone;
To take up his freedom at Alnwick,
The why or the wherefore's known to none.
"Before he went, he washed in soap and sud,
The Alnwick folks they found the fiddle;
Then they dragged poor Jemmy through the mud,
Two foot above his middle.
The above was in allusion to the old ceremony of being dragged through the
dirty pool to be made a Freeman of the town of Alnwick. But, as far as
Catnach was concerned, there is no truth whatever in the matter, it was
simply "a weak invention of the enemy." It was in the latter part of June
and the beginning of July in the same year, that Catnach was at Alnwick,
and the ceremony of making freemen always took place on St. Mark's Day,
April 25th, or at least two months earlier.
Thus the statement of the Pitts' party was--
"As false
As air, as water, as wind, as sandy earth,
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,
Pard to the hind, or step-dame to her son."