with the Parliament on the subject of the execution of priests. In
January, 1641, Thomas Goodman, a priest and Jesuit, had been condemned.
The king reprieved him; the two Houses remonstrated and urged that the
law might be executed. Charles reminded Parliament of the inconvenience
which might ensue to Protestant Englishmen and others abroad, but having
said this he left the final decision to the Houses. Goodman petitioned
the king: “He would esteem his blood well shed to cement the breach
between your majesty and your subjects.” He was suffered to die in
Newgate.
Much the same happened later in the year. Seven priests were condemned
on December 8th. The French ambassador exerted himself in their behalf.
Charles consulted the two Houses as to a reprieve, to be followed by
banishment. He did in fact reprieve them. The Houses petitioned for
execution. Charles replied that he desired to banish the priests, “but
if you think the execution of these persons so very necessary to the
great and pious work of reformation, we refer it wholly to you, declaring
hereby that upon such your resolution signified to the ministers of
justice, our warrant for their reprieve is determined, and the law to
have its course.”[184] These also were suffered to linger out their lives
in Newgate.
=1654.= To get a respite for a while from this massacre of priests, we
may deal here with the last case that occurred for some years.
John Southworth was sent on the English mission in 1619. He escaped
imprisonment till 1627, when he was tried at Lancaster, condemned,
reprieved in 1630, and given over to the French ambassador for
transportation beyond seas. If he was sent abroad, which seems uncertain,
he was soon back, and after a long interval was again arrested, and once
more released. He was finally apprehended in 1654. On his arraignment he
pleaded that he was not guilty of treason, but in spite of persuasion
acknowledged that he was a priest. The court, with, it is said, great
reluctance, passed the inevitable sentence. On June 28th five coiners
were drawn, hanged, and quartered with Father Southworth.
Father Southworth was an old man of 72; nothing was alleged against him
but that he was a priest, that he was “a dangerous seducer.”
The guilt of this judicial murder rests wholly with Cromwell. The life of
Southworth was in his hands; he was deaf to the suit of the French and
Spanish ambassadors for Southworth’s life (Challoner’s Memoirs, pt. ii.
pp. 196-200).
No more Catholics were executed in England till the Popish Plot broke out
in 1678.
=1649.= With exquisite humour, none the less delightful because it was
probably unconscious, the admirers of Cromwell have set up his statue
near to the House of Commons, his back turned towards it. He might just
have left the House with the key of the locked door in his pocket. Why
is the statue there? It cannot be simply in recognition of the fact that
Cromwell cut off the head of a king. To cut off a king’s head may be a
meritorious deed, or it may be an infamous deed, or neither the one nor
the other in any notable degree. But, taken by itself, it does not seem
to demand an expression of national gratitude. Yet what else could the
statue have been intended to commemorate? What, besides, did Cromwell do?
He set up in place of monarchy a Thing so detestable that in a few years
the people were glad to have back a Stuart at any price: anything was
better than the military despotism of Cromwell and his majors-general.
Great soldier he was, great and pitiless. The proper place for Cromwell’s
statue was Drogheda.
Our hearts have burnt within us as we have read the story of ship-money
levied by Charles I. without the authority of Parliament. But Cromwell
also levied taxes illegally. When his old friend Cony refused to pay,
and reminded Cromwell how he had often declared that the man who paid
an illegal tax was worse than he who demanded it, Cromwell threw his
old friend into prison. When Cony was brought into court on his habeas
corpus, Cromwell threw into prison the three counsel who argued the case.
Cony, deprived of the aid of counsel, pleaded his own cause. It was too
clear to suffer greatly from want of skill in the pleading: the judge
could not decide adversely to Cony, but was unwilling to give judgment
against Cromwell. He deferred his decision. Cromwell removed him from the
bench.
Enclosing went on as before; the country was desolated by civil war; the
people fell into poverty deeper and deeper. The wicked laws, “taking
away the life of men only for theft,” continued in force to the bitter
disappointment of those who had looked for better things: “You have sate
now,” wrote Samuel Chidley, addressing his Highness the Lord Protector
and the Parliament, “you have sate now above these 40 days twice told,
and passed some Acts for transporting Corn and Cattel out of the Land,
and against Charls Stuart’s, &c., but (as I humbly conceive) have left
undone matters of greater concernment; amongst which, the not curbing
this over-much justice in hanging men for stealing is one; the not
suppressing the pressing of men to death for not answering against
themselves is another.”
Samuel Chidley, who, for greater emphasis, printed his arguments in red
ink, gave instructions that a copy of his book “should be nailed upon
Tiburne Gallowes before the execution, with this motto written on the
top:—
‘Cursed be that bloody hand
Which takes this downe without Command.’
… but the party could not naile it upon Tiburne Gallow-tree, for the
crowd of people, and therefore was forced to naile it on the tree which
is upon the bank by the Gallowes; and there it remained, and was read by
many both before and after execution, and its thought will stand there
still, till it drop away.”
A notable incident in the history of Tyburn!
Cromwell had enough to do to keep himself in his military saddle: he
had no time to waste on an impatient idealist.[185] Samuel Chidley
discovered, as others have since found, that the more things change the
more they remain the same. Hanging for theft went on as briskly as ever.
Indeed, by the irony of fate the Reign of the Saints furnishes us with an
account of the greatest number recorded as being executed at one time at
Tyburn. In the Thomasson collection of Tracts in the British Museum is
one bearing the following title:—
“A true and perfect Relation of the Tryall, Condemning, and executing of
the 24. Prisoners, who suffered for severall Robberies and Burglaries
at Tyburn on Fryday last, which was the 29. of this instant June, 1649,
expressing the penitent end of the said Prisoners, the grief of the many
Thousands there, and the Speech of John Mercer (who was there executed)
concerning Unity in this Kingdom, and the bringing home and setling of
the King.”
The names of the criminals are given, twenty-three men and one woman. The
prisoners were tied in eight carts, the sexton of St. Sepulchre’s made
his official speech to the culprits, “which being ended the carts were
drave unto Tiburne the Fatall place of execution, where William Lowen the
new Hangman fastned eight of them unto each Triangle.”
It would seem that there was nothing unusual, nothing to attract
attention, in the number executed. In the bound volume there is,
following the tract, “The Perfect Weekly Account … from Wednesday June
27, to Wednesday the 4 of July, 1649, Beginning Wednesday June 27.” This
little newspaper of eight pages does not so much as mention the execution.
=1650.= _October 2._ Captain Ashley was sentenced by the High Court
of Justice to have his head cut off, and one Benson to be hanged, for
conspiring against the Commonwealth in the tresonable Engagement of
Colonel Andrews.
_October 7._ Mr. Benson was executed at Tyburn according to the sentence
of the High Court of Justice; but in regard that Captain Ashley only
subscribed the Engagement, but acted nothing in it, he was pardoned by
the Parliament (Whitelocke).
=1653.= “The ambassador of Portugal had a very splendid equipage, and
in his company his brother don Pantaleon Sa, a Knight of Malta, and a
man eminent in many great actions, who out of curiosity accompanied his
brother in this embassy, that he might see England. This gentleman was of
a haughty and imperious nature, and one day being in the New Exchange,
upon a sudden accident and mistake had a quarrel with … Mr. Gerard, … who
had then returned some negligence and contempt to the _rodomontados_
of the Portuguese, and had left him sensible of receiving some affront.
Whereupon he repaired thither again the next day [November 22], with
many servants, better armed and provided for any encounter, imagining
he should find his former adversary, who did not expect the visitation.
But the Portuguese not distinguishing of persons, and finding many
gentlemen walking there, and amongst the rest one he believed very like
the other, he thought he was not to lose the occasion; he entered into
a new quarrel, in which a gentleman, utterly unacquainted with what had
formerly passed, and walking there accidentally was killed, and others
hurt; upon which the people rising from all the neighbouring places, don
Pantaleon thought fit to make his retreat to his brother’s house; which
he did, and caused the gates to be locked, and put all the servants in
arms to defend the house against the people which had pursued him, and
flocked now together from all parts to apprehend those who had caused the
disorder and had killed a gentleman.… Cromwell was quickly advertised
of the insolence, and sent an officer with soldiers to demand and seize
upon all who had been engaged in the action. And so the ambassador came
to be informed of the truth of the story, with which he was exceedingly
afflicted and astonished.”
The ambassador pleaded the privilege accorded to ambassadors, but the
officer was resolute; finally after an appeal to Cromwell, don Pantaleon
and the rest were given up and sent to Newgate.
“The ambassador used all the instances he could for his brother, being
willing to leave the rest to the mercy of the law, but could receive
no other answer but that justice must be done. And justice was done to
the full, for they were all brought to their trial at the sessions at
Newgate, and there so many of them condemned to be hanged as were found
guilty. And the rest of those who were condemned were executed at
Tyburn; and don Pantaleon himself was brought to the scaffold on Tower
Hill.”[186]
Strangely enough Gerard, with whom the quarrel began, was executed (for
high treason against the Protector) on the same day and on the same
scaffold.
=1658.= On June 8, Slingsby and Hewet were executed on Tower Hill:
Colonel Ashton, Mr. Stacy, and Mr. Bestely were drawn, hanged, and
quartered in the streets of the City, and on July 6 several of “the new
conspirators” were executed in London and at Tyburn.
These were Cromwell’s last executions. He died on September 3, 1658.
=1660.= A terrible vengeance followed. Between October 13 and 17 eight of
the Regicides were executed “at the Round or railed Place neer Charing
Crosse.” “And now the stench of their burnt bowels had so putrified the
air, as the inhabitants thereabout petitioned His Majesty there might
be no more executed in that place: therefore on Friday [_October 19_],
Francis Hacker, without remorse, and Daniell Axtell, who dissolved
himself into tears and prayers for the King and his own soul, were
executed at Tyburn, where Hacker was only hanged, and his brother
Rowland Hacker had his body entire, which he begged, and Axtell was
quartered.”[187]
To finish with the story of the regicides:—
Colonel Okey, Colonel Barkstead, and Miles Corbet were basely betrayed by
Downing, who had been chaplain in Okey’s regiment; the States General,
in violation of their fundamental maxim to receive and protect those
who took refuge in their territory, basely surrendered them. They were
executed at Tyburn on April 16, 1662.
A miserable vengeance was wreaked on the dead—on the “carcases” of
Cromwell, Ireton, and Bradshaw.
=1660.= _December 4._ A resolution was passed in the House of Commons;
the Lords made an addition, and finally the Resolution stood thus:—
_December 8._ Resolved, by the Lords and Commons assembled in Parliament,
That the carcases of Oliver Cromwell, Henry Ireton, John Bradshaw, Thomas
Pride, whether buried in Westminster Abbey or elsewhere, be, with all
expedition, taken up and drawn upon a hurdle to Tyburn, and there hanged
up in their coffins for some time: and after that buried under the said
gallows: and that James Norfolke Esquire, Serjeant at Arms attending
the House of Commons, do take care, that this order be put in effectual
execution by the common executioner for the County of Middlesex, and all
such others to whom it shall respectively appertain: who are required
in their several places to conform to and observe this order, with
effect; And the Sheriff of Middlesex is to give his assistance herein, as
there shall be occasion: And the Dean of Westminster is desired to give
directions to his officers of the Abbey to be assistant in the execution
of this order.[188]
A new gallows had been erected for the purpose. Let Evelyn tell us of the
use to which it was put on January 30, 1661:—
=1661.= _January 30._ This day (O the stupendous and inscrutable
judgments of God!) were the carcases of those arch-rebels, Cromwell,
Bradshawe (the judge who condemned his Majesty) and Ireton (son-in-law
to the Usurper) dragged out of their superb tombs in Westminster among
the Kings, to Tyburn, and hanged on the gallows there from nine in
the morning till six at night, and then buried under that fatal and
ignominious monument in a deep pit: thousands of people who had seen them
in all their pride being spectators.[189]
Here is another account, showing the feelings of a partisan:—
“The odious carcasses of O. Cromwell, H. Ireton, and J. Bradshaw drawn
upon sledges to Tyburn, and being pull’d out of their Coffins, there
hang’d at the severall Angles of that Triple-tree till Sun-set. Then
taken down, beheaded, and their loathesome Truncks thrown into a deep
hole under the Gallowes. Their heads were afterwards set upon Poles on
the top of Westminster Hall.”[190] Here Pepys saw them.
Neal says that the bodies were drawn upon hurdles, but the two words were
at this time used indifferently for the same thing.
There were various legends on the subject. One was that Cromwell was
not buried in Westminster Abbey, but on Naseby field. Another, that his
friends contrived that the body of Charles I. was substituted for that of
Cromwell, and was hanged on the gibbet. It was said that persons present
observed a seam on the neck—the head having been joined to the body after
decollation.[191]
Many bodies, including those of Cromwell’s mother and daughter, Admiral
Blake and John Pym, were taken from the Abbey, and buried in a pit in St.
Margaret’s churchyard.[192]
=1660.= On June 9 the House of Commons resumed debate on the Act of
general Pardon, Indemnity, and Oblivion, and a list was produced of some
who, though they did not sit at the trial of Charles I., on January 27,
1648, did sit on some of the preceding days. The subject was considered
on subsequent occasions, and finally an Act was passed, 13 Charles II.,
c. 15 (1661), enacting that Lord Monson, Sir Henry Mildmay, and Robert
Wallop (and others who had fled) should on January 27, 1662, be “carried
to the Tower of London and from thence drawne upon Sledges with Ropes
about theire necks, and according to the manner of persons executed for
High Treason quite through the streets of London unto the Gallows att
Tiburn,” and then carried back in like manner to the Tower or such other
prison as the king may think fit, and remain prisoners during their lives.
Accordingly on January 27, 1662:—“This morning, going to take water, upon
Tower-hill we met with three sleddes standing there to carry my Lord
Monson and Sir H. Mildmay and another to the gallows and back again, with
ropes about their necks: which is to be repeated every year, this being
the day of their sentencing the king.”[193]
The Act, however, contains nothing as to the repetition of the ceremony.
=1661.= This year witnessed the outbreak of the Fifth Monarchy men. John
James, a small-coal man, was executed at Tyburn. “The sheriff and hangman
were so civil to him in his execution, as to suffer him to be dead before
he was cut down, beheaded, bowelled, and quartered. His quarters were set
on the gates of the City, his head was first fixed on London bridge, but
afterwards upon a pole, near Bulstake Alley, Whitechapel, in which was
James’s meeting-house.”[194]
=1662.= _December 22._ Thomas Tonge, George Phillips, Francis Stubbs and
Nathaniel Gibbs, convicted of taking part in a plot to seize the Tower
and Whitehall, to kill the King and declare a Commonwealth. They were
drawn to Tyburn on two hurdles, hanged, beheaded and quartered; their
heads were set up on poles on Tower Hill.[195]
=1668.= _May 9._ This day Thomas Limerick, Edward Cotton, Peter
Messenger, and Richard Beasley, four of the persons formerly apprehended
in the Tumult during the Easter Holydays, having upon their Trial at
Hicks-Hall been found guilty and since sentenced as Traytors, were
accordingly Drawn, Hang’d, and Quartered at Tyburn, where they showed
many signs of their penitence, their quarters permitted Burial, only two
of their Heads ordered to be fixt upon London-Bridge.[196]
=1670.= In February of this year ended the brilliant career of Claude
Duval, the famous highwayman. There had been highwaymen before Duval, as
he was succeeded by others. But the great merit of Duval is that he gave
a tone and dignity to the profession which it never wholly lost. Before
giving any account of this prince of highwaymen it may be permitted to
say something on this branch of the profession of the art of thieving.
The century from 1650 to 1750 may be considered the era of the
highwayman. When civil war rages bands of marauders will spring up, whose
operations present a resemblance to the methods of a soldiery not kept
well in hand. Thus during the Commonwealth James Hinde was the captain
of a band of twenty or more whose operations were coloured by a pretence
of acting for the king. On November 11, 1651, Hinde was examined by the
Council of State, and “confessed his serving of the king in England,
Scotland and Ireland.” Highwayman as he was, his pretensions as a servant
of the king must have been admitted, as he was condemned at the Old
Bailey, sent to Worcester, and drawn, hanged, and quartered, for high
treason against the State. Accounts of his exploits were printed even a
century after his death. The catalogue of the British Museum contains
more than twenty entries relating to this worthy.
The prevalence of highway robbery is shown by the great number
of Proclamations issued during the reigns of Charles II. and his
immediate successors. Thus royal Proclamations offering rewards for the
apprehension of highwaymen were issued on December 23 and 30, 1668.
These were followed by others in 1677, 1679-80, 1681, 1682-3. In this
last eleven notorious robbers are specially named. In 1684 and 1684-5,
two more Proclamations were issued, followed in 1687 by an Order in
Council of the same tenor. In 1690 came a new Proclamation. These
Proclamations were not wholly successful in breaking up gangs, for in
December, 1691, the Worcester waggon was plundered by sixteen highwaymen
of £2,500 of the King’s money.
Still worse, in 1692 seven highwaymen robbed the Manchester carrier of
£15,000 of royal treasure. A Proclamation was now issued raising the
reward for capture. In the earliest Proclamations this had been fixed at
£10, afterwards raised to £20. The reward now offered was £40. In the
same year, 1692, was passed the Act 4 William and Mary, c. 8, taking
effect after March 25, 1693. The reward of £40 was to be paid by the
sheriff, or if he was not in funds, by the Treasury. Under date April 8,
1693, Luttrell writes, “Some moneys have been issued out of the Exchequer
pursuant to the late Act for taking highwaymen.”
To return to Duval. He was born in Normandy, and came over to England as
page to the Duke of Richmond. His best-known exploit is told at length in
memoirs, ascribed to William Pope (reprinted in “Harleian Miscellany,”
iii. 308-16):—
This is the place where I should set down several of his exploits; but I
omit them, both as being well known, and because I cannot find in them
more ingenuity than was practised before by Hind and Hannum, and several
other mere English thieves.
Yet, to do him right, one story there is that savours of gallantry, and
I should not be an honest historian if I should conceal it. He with
his squadron overtakes a coach, which they had set over night, having
intelligence of a booty of four-hundred pounds in it. In the coach was
a knight, his lady, and only one serving-maid, who, perceiving five
horsemen making up to them, presently imagined they were beset; and
they were confirmed in this apprehension by seeing them whisper to one
another, and ride backwards and forwards: the lady to show she was not
afraid, takes a flageolet out of her pocket and plays. Du Vall takes the
hint, plays also, and excellently well, upon a flageolet of his own; and
in this posture, he rides up to the coach-side. “Sir” (says he, to the
person in the coach), “your lady plays excellently, and I doubt not but
that she dances as well; will you please to walk out of the coach, and
let me have the honour to dance one currant with her upon the heath.”
“Sir” (said the person in the coach), “I dare not deny anything to one
of your quality and good mind; you seem a gentleman, and your request
is very reasonable.” Which said, the lacquey opens the boot; out comes
the knight, Du Vall leaps lightly off his horse, and hands the lady
out of the coach. They danced, and here it was that Du Vall performed
marvels; the best master in London, except those that are French, not
being able to show such footing as he did in his great riding French
boots. The dancing being over, he waits on the lady to her coach; as the
knight was going in says Du Vall to him, “Sir, you have forgot to pay
the musick.” “No, I have not” (replies the knight;) and, putting his
hand under the seat of the coach, pulls out an hundred pounds in a bag,
and delivers it to him; which Du Vall took with a very good grace, and
courteously answered, “Sir, you are liberal, and shall have no cause to
repent your being so; this liberality of yours shall excuse you the other
three-hundred pounds”: and giving him the word, that if he met with any
more of the crew, he might pass undisturbed, he civilly takes his leave
of him.
Here is the account of the lying in state after the execution:—
After he had hanged a convenient time, he was cut down, and, by persons
well dressed, carried into a mourning-coach, and so conveyed to the
Tangier-tavern in St. Giles’s, where he lay in state all that night,
the room hung with black cloth, the hearse covered with escutcheons,
eight wax-tapers burning, and as many tall gentlemen with long black
cloakes attending; mum was the word, great silence expected from all that
visited, for fear of disturbing this sleeping lion. And this ceremony
had lasted much longer, had not one of the judges (whose name I must not
mention here, lest he should incur the displeasure of the ladies) sent to
disturb this pageantry.
The “Memoirs” are not to be taken too seriously. They are satirical, as
is sufficiently shown by the title—“Intended as a severe Reflexion on the
too great Fondness of English Ladies towards French Footmen: which, at
that Time of Day was a too common Complaint.”
According to the “Memoirs” Duval’s tomb bore the family arms curiously
engraved and under them this epitaph:—