facts, as far as I can recollect. May knew nothing of the murder,
and I do not believe he suspected that I had got the body except
in the usual way, and after the death of it. I always told him
that I got it from the ground; and he never knew to the contrary
until I confessed it to Mr. Williams since the trial. I have known
May as a body snatcher four or five years, but I do not believe
he ever obtained a body except in the common course of men in
that calling, by stealing from the graves. I also confess that I
and Williams were concerned in the murder of a female, whom I
believe to have been since discovered to be Fanny Pigburn, on or
about the 9th of October last. I and Williams saw her sitting,
about eleven or twelve o'clock at night, on the step of a door in
Shoreditch, near the church. She had a child, four or five years
old, with her, on her lap. I asked why she was sitting there. She
said she had no home to go to, for her landlord had turned her out
into the street. I told her that she might go home with us, and
sit by the fire all night. She said she would go with us; and she
walked with us to my house, in Nova Scotia Gardens, carrying her
child with her. When we got there, we found the family in bed;
and we took the woman in and lighted a fire, by which we all sat
down together. I went out for beer, and we all partook of beer
and rum (I had brought the rum from Smithfield in my pocket). The
woman and her child lay down on some dirty linen on the floor,
and I and Williams went to bed. About six o'clock next morning I
and Williams told her to go away, and to meet us at the London
Apprentice, in Old-street-road, at one o'clock; this was before
our families were up. She met us again at one o'clock at the
London Apprentice, without her child. We gave her some halfpence
and beer, and desired her to meet us again, at ten o'clock at
night, at the same place. After this we bought rum and laudanum
at different places, and at ten o'clock we met the woman again
at the London Apprentice. She had no child with her. We drank
three pints of beer between us there, and stayed about an hour.
We should have stayed there longer, but an old man came in, whom
the woman said she knew; and she said she did not like him to see
her there with anybody; we therefore all went out. It rained hard,
and we took shelter under a doorway in the Hackney-road for about
half an hour. We then walked to Nova Scotia Gardens, and Williams
and I led her into No. 2, an empty house, adjoining my house.
We had no light. Williams stepped out into the garden with the
rum and laudanum, which I had handed to him. He there mixed them
together in a half-pint bottle, and came into the house to me and
the woman, and gave her the bottle to drink. She drank the whole
at two or three draughts. There was a quartern of rum and about
half a phial of laudanum. She sat down on the step between two
rooms in the house, and went off to sleep in about ten minutes.
She was falling back; I caught her, to save her fall, and she
lay with her back on the floor. Then Williams and I went to a
public-house, got something to drink, and in about half an hour
came back to the woman. We took her cloak off, tied a cord to her
feet, carried her to the well in the garden, and thrust her into
it headlong. She struggled very little afterwards, and the water
bubbled a little at the top. We fastened the cord to the palings
to prevent her going down beyond our reach, and left her, and took
a walk to Shoreditch, and came back in about half an hour; we left
the woman in the well for this length of time, that the rum and
laudanum might run out of the body at the mouth. On our return, we
took her out of the well, cut her clothes off, put them down the
privy of the empty house, carried the body into the wash-house of
my own house, where we doubled it up, and put it into a hat-box,
which we corded, and left it there. We did not go to bed, but went
to Shields' house, in Eagle-street, Red-lion-square, and called
him up; this was between four and five o'clock in the morning. We
then went with Shields to a public-house near the Sessions House,
Clerkenwell, and had some gin, and from thence to my house, where
we went in and stayed a little while, to wait the change of the
police. I told Shields he was to carry that trunk to St. Thomas'
Hospital. He asked if there was a woman in the house who could
walk alongside of him, so that people might not take any notice.
Williams called his wife up, and asked her to walk with Shields,
and to carry the hat-box which he gave her to carry. There was
nothing in it, but it was tied up as if there were. We then put
the box with the body on Shields' head, and went to the hospital,
Shields and Mrs. Williams walking on one side of the street, and
I and Williams on the other. At St. Thomas' Hospital I saw Mr.
South's footman, and sent him upstairs to Mr. South to ask if he
wanted a subject. The footman brought me word that his master
wanted one, but could not give an answer till the next day, as
he had not time to look at it. During this interview, Shields,
Williams, and his wife, were waiting at a public-house. I then
went alone to Mr. Appleton, at Mr. Grainger's, and agreed to sell
it to him for eight guineas; and afterwards I fetched it from St.
Thomas' Hospital, and took it to Mr. Appleton, who paid me five
pounds then, and the rest on the following Monday. After receiving
the five pounds I went to Shields, and Williams and his wife,
at the public-house, where I paid Shields ten shillings for his
trouble, and we then all went to the Flower Pot, in Bishopsgate,
where we had something to drink, and then went home. I never saw
the woman's child after the first time before mentioned. She said
she had left the child with the person she had taken some of her
things to, before her landlord took her goods. The woman murdered
did not tell us her name; she said her age was thirty-five, I
think, and that her husband, before he died, was a cabinet-maker.
She was thin, rather tall, and very much marked with the
smallpox. I also confess the murder of a boy, who told us his
name was Cunningham. It was a fortnight after the murder of the
woman. I and Williams found him sleeping, about eleven or twelve
o'clock at night, on Friday, the 21st of October, as I think,
under the pig-boards in the pig-market at Smithfield. Williams
woke him, and asked him to come along with him (Williams), and
the boy walked with Williams and me to my house in Nova Scotia
Gardens. We took him into my house, and gave him some warm beer,
sweetened with sugar, with rum and laudanum in it. He drank two
or three cups full, and then fell asleep in a little chair,
belonging to one of my children. We laid him on the floor, and
went out for a little while and got something to drink, and then
returned, carried the boy to the well, and threw him into it, in
the same way as we had served the other boy and the woman. He
died instantly in the well, and we left him there a little while,
to give time for the mixtures we had given him to run out of the
body. We then took the body from the well, took off the clothes
in the garden, and buried them there. The body was carried into
the wash-house, and put into the same box, and left there till
the next evening, when we got a porter to carry it with us to St.
Bartholomew's Hospital, where I sold it to Mr. Smith for eight
guineas. This boy was about ten or eleven years old, said his
mother lived in Kent-street, and that he had not been home for a
twelvemonth and better. I solemnly declare that these are all the
murders in which I have been concerned, or that I know anything
of; that I and Williams were alone concerned in these, and that
no other person whatever knew anything about either of them, and
that I do not know whether there are others who practise the same
mode of obtaining bodies for sale. I know nothing of any Italian
boy, and was never concerned in, or knew of, the murder of such
a boy. There have been no white mice about my house for the last
six months. My son, about eight months ago, bought two mice, and I
made him a cage for them. It was flat, with wires at the top. They
lived about two months, and were killed, I think, by a cat in the
garden, where they got out of the cage. They were frequently seen
running in the garden, and used to hide in a hole under the privy.
I and my wife and children saw one of them killed by a cat in the
garden whilst we were at tea. Until the transactions before set
forth, I never was concerned in obtaining a subject by destruction
of the living. I have followed the course of obtaining a
livelihood as a body-snatcher for twelve years, and have obtained
and sold, I think, from five hundred to one thousand bodies; but I
declare, before God, that they were all obtained after death, and
that, with the above exceptions, I am ignorant of any murder for
that or any other purpose.
'JOHN BISHOP.'
'Witness, ROBERT ELLIS,
Under-Sheriff.'
'I, Thomas Head, alias Williams, now under sentence of death in
Newgate, do solemnly confess and declare the foregoing statement
and confession of John Bishop, which has been made in my presence,
and since read over to me distinctly, is altogether true, so
far as the same relates to me. I declare that I was never
concerned in, or privy to, any other transaction of the like
nature--that I never knew anything of the murder of any other
person whatever--that I was never a body-snatcher, or concerned
in the sale of any other body than the three murdered by Bishop
and myself--that May was a stranger to me, and I had never seen
him more than once or twice before Friday the 4th of November
last--and that May was wholly innocent and ignorant of any of
those murders in which I was concerned, and for one of which I am
about to suffer death.
'THOMAS HEAD.'
'Witness, R. ELLIS,
'Newgate, December 4, 1831.'
'The above confessions taken literally, from the prisoners, in our
presence,
'T. WOOD, }
'R. ELLIS,} Under-Sheriffs.'
In regard to this confession of Bishop, we may be allowed to offer a
few cursory remarks, and particularly as we have, on another occasion,
laid before the public the confessions of Holloway, two of which were
given, as he himself expressly declares, for the express purpose of
misleading the judicial authorities of the country, with the avowed
aim of saving the life of his guilty accomplice, and in which, with
shame be it spoken, he too well succeeded. A voluntary confession of
a criminal, standing almost at the foot of the scaffold, ought to be
received with the utmost degree of caution and distrust; but in the
case of the confession of Bishop, the most singular feature of the
case is, that part of it has actually been believed and acted upon,
whilst another part is wholly rejected, and declared to be false,
although no documentary evidence has been brought forward to prove
it such. In regard, however, to confessions in general, it really
appears to us, that every magistrate, who has a prisoner to examine,
thinks it his duty to set himself, with all his skill, to prevent
the discovery of the truth from the only person, who, although he
may strive to disguise, knows completely the facts of the case. This
custom has no sanction in law, is repugnant to common sense, and
contrary to the practice of all other nations, whose criminal codes
are, generally speaking, in a more perfect state, and are certainly
much more humane than our own. A man charged with an offence ought
not to be compelled to confession by the promise of pardon; but is
there no difference between this and actually urging him to silence
against his will, as a method of escape, though he may have committed
the offence? We are really sick of reading examinations, every part
and portion of which are made up of injunctions to the accused, to do
and say nothing whatever that can by any possibility injure his chance
of eluding justice. The following, in our opinion, ought to be the
practice:--All hints of advantage to the accused from confession--all
recommendations to confess being cautiously abstained from; what he
has to say, or chooses voluntarily to say, should be received in
silence, and no obstruction thrown in his way; and, after all, what
do these confessions amount to? They are but too frequently a tissue
of falsehood and truth, calculated to mislead the jury, and cast a
doubt upon the positive facts of the case. In all cases of confession,
however, after conviction, the circumstances under which the confession
is given should be particularly taken into consideration before any
decisive opinion is formed as to its falsity or truth. From the nature
of these circumstances a clue may be obtained to the motive which
prompts the individual to make the confession, and on which depends, in
a great degree, its claim to our credibility and confidence. The motive
which prompted Bishop to make his confession could not have had any
relationship with the hope of its saving him from an ignominious death;
and it is not rational to believe that a man, under his circumstances,
would make a confession for the mere purpose of deceiving, when he
must have been fully conscious to himself, that not the slightest
benefit could accrue to him. In the confession of Bishop there is an
evident attempt to shake the verdict of the jury, to throw a doubt
upon the administration of justice, and to agitate the public mind,
and, as such, we would receive it with the utmost distrust; but the
most striking peculiarity of the case is, that the main circumstances
of it are corroborated by an accomplice, who could not have been
actuated by any flattering motive to confirm the testimony already
given, and who was actually ignorant at the time of the exact tenor of
the circumstances detailed in the confession as given by Bishop. The
confessions of Williams and Bishop were given to different individuals,
in different places, but nearly at the same time, the chief question
then to be decided is, had any previous agreement been entered into
between these individuals as to the nature of the confession which
they were to make? for unless such agreement had been entered into,
the statement put forth by one of them, and corroborated in every
particular by the other, supposing no previous collusion to exist, is
certainly entitled to a great share of our belief. It is certain that
the confession of Bishop made a very strong impression on the public
mind, and to qualify the effect of it, Mr. Corder put forth a written
statement to the public, which will be given in another part of the
work; and the aim of which was to demonstrate, that the last words
of Bishop and Williams were false. The whole gist of Mr. Corder's
statement rests on the following syllogism:--
Bishop confesses to the murder of a Lincolnshire boy,
No Lincolnshire boy has been missing;
_Ergo_--No Lincolnshire boy has been murdered.
Bishop, however, does not confess to the murder of the Italian boy,
but he says, that the corpse which was taken, as it may be said, upon
him, was not that of Carlo Ferrari, but of a Lincolnshire youth, who
had been entrapped into their snares, as described both by Bishop and
Williams. It must be also remarked, that the identity of the body of
the Italian boy was never fully established; in fact, the chief witness
who was brought forward to depose to the fact, declared positively
that he could not swear it was the body of Carlo Ferrari, but that
_it was very like it_. If we examine the majority of the confessions
made by convicted criminals, we shall generally find them destitute
of all truth. The confession of Fauntleroy was a confession of being
_innocent_ of almost all the forgeries he had committed; and it is
rather remarkable, that the chief murderer of Mr. Steele, upwards of
thirty years ago, was JOHN HOLLOWAY, and the most just verdict which
was pronounced against him and his accomplice, Owen Haggarty, was
attempted to be invalidated after their execution, on account of the
confession made by the latter. A variety of opinions still exists in
regard to the truth of Bishop's confession; but we shall here close
our remarks, with the brief observation, that we do not perceive
what right, in a Protestant Church, either priest or magistrate has
to urge a convict to make a confession; for we are convinced, that
if a confession before conviction be of little worth, the confession
afterwards is almost universally false.
There was, however, one circumstance connected with the confession of
Williams, which subjected the worthy Ordinary of Newgate to public
animadversion; and, subsequently, to an examination of his conduct
before the Court of Aldermen.
It appears, that whilst Williams was making his confession to the
Rev. Mr. Williams, of Hendon, the Rev. Ordinary stepped in, and put an
end to all further disclosure from the mouth of Williams, which act
was construed into one of supererogation on the part of Mr. Cotton,
incompatible with his clerical character, and at variance with the
promotion of the ends of justice. This circumstance was brought before
the public in the following letter, addressed to the editor of a
morning paper:--
'SIR,
'Can you inform me by what authority the Rev. Mr. Cotton
interposed to suppress the confessions of the two murderers? Were
they, in consequence, better qualified to receive from him that
spiritual instruction which he professes to give, or had he any
other motive by which his conduct was actuated?
'I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
JAMES STONE.
'_Dec. 10._'
This letter produced the following one from Mr. Under-Sheriff Wood,
addressed to the Editor of the same paper:--
'SIR,
'I read in your paper this morning a letter signed "James Stone,"
requesting to be informed "by what authority the Rev. Mr. Cotton
interposed to suppress the confessions of the two murderers."
That letter is dated December 10, but has not the address of
the writer. Will you be so obliging as to furnish it to me, in
order that the Sheriffs may ascertain upon what authority it was
written, and whether there is any foundation for the imputation it
is intended to convey? Till then, it must be obvious to Mr. Stone
that he cannot receive an answer.
'I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
'THOMAS WOOD, Under-Sheriff.
'_Little St. Thomas Apostle, Dec. 12._'
By the letter of Mr. Wood, he seemed to intimate that the Sheriffs
were disposed to institute a solemn inquiry into the conduct of the
Ordinary. If, however, they could suppose that person capable of acting
the monstrous part imputed to him, surely they would not have wanted
such aid as the unknown letter-writer could be expected to supply, in
order to induce them to bring his merits before the proper authorities.
At all events, it was no very handsome compliment paid to the worthy
Ordinary.
In explanation, however, of the conduct of Mr. Cotton, the following
letter appeared in the same paper, and on the same day, as that of Mr.
Under-Sheriff Wood:--
'SIR,
'By way of elucidation, relative to the letter inserted in your
paper of this day, demanding by what authority the Rev. Mr. Cotton
interposed to suppress the confessions of the two murderers,
and signed "James Stone," I beg to inform you, that whilst the
Rev. Mr. Williams, of Hendon, was listening to the confession of
Williams the murderer, Mr. Cotton went into the cell, and called
out, "Come, come, Mr. Williams, what is all this about? I suppose
you want to extract confessions with a view to publish them:
let me converse with the criminal." Upon this unexpected and
extraordinary interruption by the Ordinary, the Rev. Mr. Williams
retired to another part of the room, and was much astonished. I
am, Sir, your obedient servant,
'A READER.
'_Paul's Chain, Dec. 12._'
Now there were but very few persons present when Williams is said to
have been engaged in his confessions, and, of course, the writer of it
could have been easily ascertained; but the publicity which had been
given to the transaction induced the Court of Aldermen to institute an
inquiry into the conduct of the Rev. Ordinary, and after a most minute
investigation, he was fully exonerated from all the blame which had
been imputed to him.
It may be here necessary to epitomize some parts of the confessions of
Bishop and Williams, as it was on account of the concurrent testimony
of those two individuals that a respite for May was ultimately obtained.
Bishop, during his interview with the Rev. Mr. Williams, had confessed
to the commission of three murders, and he was proceeding to detail the
particulars of a fourth, in which a black man, a negro, was the victim;
and he was about to give the names of other parties who were implicated
with him in the last-mentioned murder, when the interruption of the
Rev. Ordinary already alluded to took place; nor could Mr. Williams, in
the course of that interview, induce the convict to resume the thread
of his narrative. The confessions, however, of Bishop and Williams both
went to exculpate May from any participation in any of the murders.
They both declared that May did not see the body, supposed to be the
Italian boy, till the Friday evening, the day after the murder; they
denied that their next door neighbour, Woodcock, could have heard any
footsteps or scuffling, as he had described in his evidence; and they
asserted, that, after hocussing the boy with laudanum in rum, he became
as dead as a log. In that state they carried him to the well in the
yard, and held his head under the water, till they were sure that he
was completely suffocated. Previously to going into the yard for the
above horrid purpose, they both took off their shoes.
They added, that, during the whole affair, there was no person in the
lower part of the house, but themselves, Bishop and Williams, they
having some time previously sent their wives to bed. The prisoners also
denied the correctness of the medical testimony given on the trial. It
will be remembered that the death of the boy was described in evidence,
as having been occasioned by a blow inflicted during life on the back
of the neck; whereas the prisoners asserted, that this appearance of
a supposed deadly injury was occasioned by the twisting of the neck
to force the corpse into the trunk, immediately after it was brought
from the well. They also said that extravasation of blood, such as
that described by the surgeons, always occurs when a body is thus
doubled up while it is warm. Having received these confessions, and
having heard the most solemn declarations from May of his innocence,
the Rev. Mr. Williams and Mr. Wontner immediately waited upon Mr.
Justice Littledale and Baron Vaughan, who had been present on the bench
whilst the prisoners were tried by Lord Chief Justice Tindal, and
who were still engaged in trying cases at the Old Bailey. On hearing
the statements made by Mr. Wontner and the Rev. Mr. Williams, Baron
Vaughan felt inclined to suggest to Chief Justice Tindal, the propriety
of recommending that a respite should be granted to May. Mr. Justice
Littledale believed, on the contrary, that the verdict was correct in
the case of May, as well as those of Bishop and Williams, and that the
law ought to take its course. The Rev. Mr. Williams and Mr. Wontner
then waited upon Mr. Chief Justice Tindal at his residence, and upon
communicating to him the statements which they had previously laid
before Baron Vaughan and Mr. Justice Littledale, the Chief Justice
said, he would, as early as possible, see the Home Secretary on the
subject. This learned judge appeared to agree in opinion with Baron
Vaughan. It was next ascertained that Lord Melbourne was not in town;
but as a Cabinet Council was to be held at two o'clock on Sunday
afternoon, no doubt was entertained that his lordship would attend
officially, and that shortly previous to that hour, the Chief Justice
would have an opportunity of conferring with him on the facts of this
extraordinary case.
During the whole of Saturday, the sheriffs, under-sheriffs and several
other official persons were decidedly opposed to any mitigation of the
punishment of May, and indeed to any delay of his execution; and it
was expected that the applications that were being made on his behalf
would be frustrated by the positive opinions and predilections of some
influential individuals. But on Sunday morning the sheriffs visited
all three of the prisoners in succession; and the under-sheriffs, who
are very intelligent men, were engaged between three and four hours
in taking down the statements of the convicts; the consequence was,
we understand, that the opinions of both sheriffs and under-sheriffs
underwent a decided change, as to May being implicated in the crime of
murder. They were consequently desirous that _his_ sentence should be
mitigated. The result of all these investigations was, that on Sunday
afternoon, at half-past four o'clock, a RESPITE during his Majesty's
pleasure arrived at Newgate for May, and his sentence was commuted to
transportation for life.
Shortly after the arrival of the respite at Newgate, Dr. Cotton and Mr.
Wontner went to the room in which the three prisoners were confined
for the day. The rev. gentleman opened the paper, and began to read
it aloud. The most anxious attention was paid to its contents by all
the prisoners; but the interest manifested by May, who must have known
that the fate of his miserable companions was sealed, but had felt
that there was still hope for him, was quite painful to witness. His
agitation was dreadful; but no sooner had Dr. Cotton repeated the
words, 'that the execution of the sentence upon John May shall be
respited during His Majesty's most gracious pleasure,' than the poor
wretch fell to the earth, as if struck by lightning. His arms worked
with the most frightful contortions, and four of the officers of the
prison could with difficulty hold him. His countenance assumed a livid
paleness--the blood forsook his lips--his eyes appeared set, and
pulsation at the heart could not be distinguished. All persons present
thought that he could not possibly survive; it was believed, indeed,
that the warrant of mercy had proved his death-blow.
Mr. Wontner and Dr. Cotton, who have of course witnessed many scenes
of dreadful agitation during their experience among capital convicts,
declare that they never before beheld any human being so fearfully
affected. It was nearly a quarter of an hour before May was restored
to the use of his faculties. At last, when recollection returned, he
attempted to clasp his hands in the attitude of thanksgiving, but his
limbs shook so violently that he found even that was impossible. His
lips moved, but nothing but inarticulate sounds came from his tongue.
The parties present soothed him with assurances that they knew what
he meant to say, and with earnest entreaties that he would calm
himself, and not attempt to speak. When restored to something like
composure, May poured forth his gratitude to God, and his thanks to
the humane gentlemen who had interested themselves in his behalf. He
then explained, that when the reverend ordinary commenced reading the
warrant, he thought that all hope was at an end--that the ceremony was
to signify to him that he must die--the sudden revulsion of feeling,
when he heard the words we have quoted, caused him to swoon. He added,
that on learning that he was to be spared, he felt as if his heart
had burst in his bosom. He declared most solemnly, now that he was
out of jeopardy, as he had done before, that he had nothing to do
with the murder for which he had been condemned to die. He had never
been concerned--either directly or indirectly--in any murder; but
acknowledged he had committed many sins for which the Almighty might
justly have left him to suffer on this occasion. He hoped now to lead a
better life, and to evince his gratitude to God by sincere repentance.
It will hardly be credited that Bishop and Williams beheld this
awful scene with an indifference approaching to apathy. The dreadful
agitation of their less guilty associate seemed to have no effect upon
them, though it was remarked that the contortions of May must have
brought to their recollections the struggles of some of their murdered
victims.