THE annals of crime record few tragedies so fearful in their enactment,
so mysterious in their present concealment, so singular in their ultimate
discovery as the Oddingley murder. A clergyman is shot at noon-day,
while walking in his own fields—the assassin and the motive are perfectly
known, yet he eludes justice, and suddenly and for ever disappears. Some
of the men to whom common rumour points as the probable instigators of
the crime, pass to their account, and make no sign. At last, when
twenty-four years have elapsed, the body of the murderer is strangely
discovered, in a state of preservation and under circumstances which
leave no room to doubt that he was himself murdered by those who had
hired him to commit the crime they were afraid to perpetrate with their
own hands.
Thus circumstance combined with circumstance to increase the romance of
this tale of blood, and invest it with a fearful interest, creating an
unparalleled excitement, not only in this neighbourhood but throughout
the whole country. People delighted to point to it, as showing how, with
silent footfall, justice ever tracks the murderer’s steps, and at last
exposes his guilt to the gaze of day, with whatever care and midnight
secrecy he has sought to hide and cover it. But it showed, also, that
the punishment of murder, as of other crimes, is sometimes postponed to a
more perfect time of retribution, and that men doubly dyed with the blood
of others—shed under the influence of passions the most
detestable—avarice, hate, and fear—can walk their lives long among their
fellows with a smooth brow, and at last placidly turn their faces to the
wall without, to outward seeming, one pang of remorse or outcry of
conscience.
The first notice of this terrible crime appeared in the Worcester papers
of June 26, 1806, and is as follows:
“The Rev. G. Parker, rector of Oddingley, in this county, was, on
Tuesday evening last, most inhumanly murdered in a field near his own
dwelling house. The perpetrator of this cruel deed discharged a gun
at the unfortunate gentleman, the contents of which entered his right
side; and afterwards, in a manner peculiarly atrocious, with the butt
end of his gun fractured his skull. An inquest was held the
following day, before R. Barneby, Esq., coroner, when the jury
returned this verdict—‘Wilful murder, by some person or persons
unknown.’”
Mr. Parker was an amiable man and benevolent to the poor, but there had
been an unhappy dispute between him and his parishioners about the
tithes, which was perfectly well understood to have been the cause
prompting to his death. His predecessor had been in the habit of
compounding with the farmers for his tithes, they giving him in lieu
thereof £135 per annum. Mr. Parker, considering this inadequate,
proposed raising it to £150. Captain Evans, one of his parishioners,
however, prevailed on the farmers to join him in resisting this proposal,
and Mr. Parker, in consequence, collected the tithe. After he had done
so for two years, the farmers, finding themselves losers by the system,
offered to accede to the proposal previously made. Mr. Parker told them
he was still willing to abide by it, but required, as he had been at an
expense of £150 in erecting a barn, and making other arrangements for
collecting the tithe, that they should, in addition, repay him that sum,
but this was refused.
The magistrates, immediately after the murder, issued a bill, offering a
reward of fifty guineas for the apprehension of the murderer, and
minutely described the person and dress of Richard Hemming, a carpenter
of Droitwich, who was at once suspected as the perpetrator of this
fearful crime. The report of the gun was heard by several parties, and
two persons from Worcester saw Hemming escaping over some fields in the
neighbourhood of the spot—indeed he was distinctly traced to a wood at
Lench, but there all trace of him was entirely lost, and it was thought
that he had left the country in security. A free pardon was offered at
the time by Government to any accomplices in the murder who would become
king’s evidence.
In June, 1807, a man, who had enlisted into the marines, was detained by
the magistrates at Plymouth on suspicion of being Hemming. Mr. Carden
immediately despatched parties to ascertain the truth of the matter, but
it proved to be a case of mistaken identity. The affair, though public
notice of it was hushed, was never forgotten—the country people had their
beliefs and traditions concerning it, and though it was confidently
affirmed by some that Hemming had been seen alive in America, the real
truth was more than guessed at. It was by some firmly believed that
Hemming had been murdered by the parties who employed him to assassinate
Mr. Parker, and they themselves seemed scarcely anxious to avoid the
imputation. Captain Evans, whom all pointed at as being the principal
instigator of the assassination, constantly kept standing upon his estate
a certain clover rick, which he had made three days only after Mr.
Parker’s murder, and when he parted with the estate two years afterwards
to a Mr. Barnett, this rick was still kept standing. The general belief
was that Hemming’s body had been buried beneath this rick, and in 1816
Hemming’s widow (then married again) made a deposition before the
Droitwich magistrates of her conviction that this was the case. A search
warrant was granted, but in that same night the clover rick mysteriously
disappeared, and though the ground which it had covered was carefully dug
up, nothing was discovered. Captain Evans, at the time of Mr. Parker’s
murder, lived upon the Church Farm, Oddingley; but in 1808 he went to
reside on a small estate called New House, upon the confines of the two
parishes of Hadsor and Oddingley. Here he remained till 1826, when he
went to Droitwich, and there lived till his death, which occurred in
1829; he was then ninety-four years of age. He was formerly a captain in
the 89th Foot, and received half pay up to the day of his death. He was
a magistrate of the borough of Droitwich.
It may be well conceived that all idea of any further discovery of the
circumstances under which this terrible crime was committed had long been
given up, and that the discovery of the skeleton of Hemming created the
most startling surprise. On the 21st January, 1830, a carpenter named
Burton was engaged in removing a barn upon the Netherwood Farm,
Oddingley, which, at the time of Mr. Parker’s murder, was occupied by Mr.
Thomas Clewes. He had begun to remove the foundation when he met with a
pair of shoes and carpenter’s rule. The story of Hemming immediately
recurred to his mind, and, carefully covering up again what he had found,
he went to the magistrates of Droitwich and the coroner of the county
(Mr. William Smith). The further investigation of the spot was very
carefully conducted by the neighbouring magistrates and Mr. Pierpoint of
Worcester; and the whole skeleton of a man, of just such height and make
as Hemming was known to have been, was disclosed to view. His former
wife particularly identified the remains by the mouth and teeth, and
declared her firm belief to be that the rule which Burton had found was
that which Hemming used customarily to carry in his pocket. The bones of
the skull had been beaten into many pieces. An inquest was commenced
upon these remains on the following Tuesday, and, by adjournment, on the
Friday; at the close of which sitting, Thomas Clewes was taken into
custody on suspicion of having been concerned in the murder of Hemming,
and in the course of the next day he expressed his desire to make a
confession. The coroner and jury accordingly went to him in the County
Gaol, where, with great composure, he gave the following account of the
circumstances under which Hemming was himself murdered on the evening of
the day after that on which he had shot Mr. Parker. Whether it is the
absolute truth or not, coming as it did from an accomplice, must always
be a matter of doubt, but it is at any rate all that will now be known of
this deed of terror.