of his life without reproach. His parents were poor, and Robert was
employed as a carter. In his twenty-fourth year he got into bad company,
and was engaged in the robbery of a chandler in Edinburgh, and being
apprehended he was brought to trial with two others, and found guilty.
His companions had their sentence commuted to transportation for life,
but on Johnston the law was ordered to be put in force.
The execution was directed to take place on the 30th December 1818, and
on that day, the judgment of the law was carried out, but under
circumstances of a most extraordinary nature. A platform was erected in
the customary manner with a drop in the Lawnmarket, and an immense crowd
having assembled, the unfortunate culprit was brought from the lock-up
house at about twenty minutes before three o'clock, attended by two of
the magistrates, the Reverend Mr. Tait, and the usual other
functionaries. The customary devotions took place, and the unhappy
wretch, with an air of the most undaunted boldness, gave the necessary
signal. Nearly a minute elapsed, however, before the drop could be
forced down, and then it was found that the toes of the wretched culprit
were still touching the surface, so that he remained half suspended, and
struggling in the most frightful manner. It is impossible to find words
to express the horror which pervaded the crowd, while one or two persons
were at work with axes beneath the scaffold, in the vain attempt to hew
down a part of it beneath the feet of the criminal. The cries of horror
from the populace continued to increase with indescribable vehemence;
and it is hard to say how long this horrible scene might have lasted,
had not a person near the scaffold, who was struck by a policeman, while
pressing onward, cried out 'Murder!' Those who were not aware of the
real cause of the cry imagined that it came from the convict, and a
shower of stones, gathered from the loose pavement of the street,
compelled the magistrates and police immediately to retire. A cry of
"Cut him down--he is alive," then instantly burst from the crowd, and a
person of genteel exterior jumped upon the scaffold, cut the rope, and
the culprit fell down in a reclining position, after having hung during
about five minutes only. A number of the mob now gained the scaffold,
and taking the ropes from the neck and arms of the prisoner, they
removed the cap from his head and loosening his clothes, carried him,
still alive, towards High Street; while another party tore the coffin
prepared to receive his body into fragments, and endeavoured
unsuccessfully to demolish the fatal gallows. Many of the police were
beaten in this riot; and the executioner, who was for some time in the
hands of the mob, was severely injured. In the meantime the
police-officers rallied in augmented force, and re-took the criminal
from the mob, at the head of the Advocates' Close. The unhappy man, half
alive, stripped of part of his clothes, and with his shirt turned up, so
that the whole of his naked back and the upper part of his body were
exhibited, lay extended on the ground in the middle of the street, in
front of the police-office. At last, after a considerable interval, some
of the police-officers laying hold of him, dragged him trailing along
the ground, for about twenty paces, into the office, where he remained
upwards of half an hour, while he was attended by a surgeon, bled in
both arms, and in the temporal vein, by which suspended animation was
restored; but the unfortunate man did not utter a word. In the meantime
a military force arrived from the Castle under the direction of a
magistrate, and the soldiers were drawn up in the street surrounding the
police-office and place of execution.
Johnston was then carried again to the scaffold. His clothes were thrown
about him in such a way, that he seemed half naked, and while a number
of men were about him, holding him up on the table, and fastening the
rope again about his neck, his clothes fell down in a manner shocking to
decency. While they were adjusting his clothes, the unhappy man was left
vibrating, upheld partly by the rope about his neck, and partly by his
feet on the table. At last the table was removed from beneath him, when,
to the indescribable horror of every spectator, he was seen suspended,
with his face uncovered, and one of his hands broke loose from the cords
with which it should have been tied, and with his fingers convulsively
twisting in the noose. Dreadful cries were now heard from every quarter.
A chair was brought, and the executioner having mounted upon it,
disengaged by force the hand of the dying man from the rope. He then
descended, leaving the man's face still uncovered, and exhibiting a
dreadful spectacle. At length a napkin was thrown over his face amidst
shouts of "Murder," and "Shame, shame," from the crowd. The unhappy
wretch was observed to struggle very much, but his sufferings were at an
end in a few minutes. The soldiers remained on the spot till the body
was cut down; and, as it was then near dusk, the crowd gradually
dispersed.
The following is a remarkable instance of a similar scene which occurred
in France in the year 1828.
Peter Hebard, who had been confined in the prison at Abbey, in France,
for five months, expecting the final order for his punishment, having
been convicted of a murder, committed under aggravated circumstances,
and who had been allowed to indulge in hopes of a reprieve, was told to
prepare for death in the afternoon. For nearly five years an execution
had not taken place at Abbey, and the consequence was that an immense
crowd assembled, which could with difficulty be kept in proper order by
a large body of gendarmes. The prisoner was bound to the board laid
across the scaffold; and upon the usual signal, his head was placed
between the _lunette_ in the guillotine. The knife fell with a trembling
motion, but did not touch the criminal. A cry of horror arose from the
crowd. The knife was again lifted--it fell a second time, but without
reaching the criminal's neck. A volley of stones was discharged at the
executioner and his two assistants. For the third time the instrument
was let down, but it only inflicted a slight wound. The executioners
then quitted the scaffold for fear of the stones, and the criminal's
head continued for some minutes bound to the block. The chief
executioner again mounted the scaffold, and the knife fell twice more
without success. The excitement in the crowd became indescribable. The
executioner fled, the criminal lifted his head up, and was greeted with
cries of "Bravo!" but he could not get away from the cords. One of the
executioners then got on the scaffold, told the unhappy man to turn his
head, and at the same time seized him by the neck, and gave him several
wounds with a shoemaker's knife. Hebard's head, nearly half off, hung on
his shoulder; the spectacle was so horrible, and the spectators so
enraged at the executioner, that he was obliged to make his escape
amongst the gendarmes. Hebard, who was found standing up to the block,
still breathed, and remained for two hours in that situation, during
which time he frequently opened his mouth. It appears that the scaffold
had been intentionally damaged by a person who acted as assistant to the
executioner on account of a grudge. A question might arise, whether the
executioner's assistant had a right to stab the criminal, and so alter
his punishment, which was to die by the guillotine.
HENRY HUNT.
IMPRISONED FOR A MISDEMEANOR.
The name of Mr. Hunt is too well known to require it to be introduced to
our readers with any long explanation of the particular character which
he filled up to the time at which he underwent an imprisonment for a
misdemeanor against the government. He was probably the most popular
demagogue of the day, with the exception of Wilkes; and, like his
prototype, he appears to have been totally undeserving the confidence or
the applause of the people. Like Wilkes, too, he was the occasion of
several deluded people losing their lives, while he himself escaped with
a comparatively trifling punishment.
Hunt was born at Widdington, in the parish of Upavon, near Salisbury
Plain, on the 6th November 1773. His father was a respectable farmer and
our hero, when young, being designed for the church, obtained the
rudiments of a classical education. At sixteen years of age, however, he
altered his mind and joined his father, and having attained great
proficiency in his new business, he was treated with great confidence by
his father, from whom, at this early age, he imbibed principles
diametrically opposed to those which he afterwards espoused. At the time
of the threatened invasion in the year 1795, Hunt joined the Evelyn
corps of militia; but his commanders having refused to permit their men
to quit the county in which they were enrolled, our hero, indignant at
the supposed cowardice of his fellows, after having delivered himself of
his maiden oration, urging them to volunteer in a new corps, threw his
sword at his commander's feet, and immediately afterwards joined a corps
established under the patronage of Lord Bruce. It appears, however, that
although his lordship's loyalty was greater than that of the officers of
the Evelyn militia, his attachment to his manorial rights was so strong,
as to occasion a serious quarrel with his followers; for some of them
having exercised their powers of sharp-shooting against his lordship's
pheasants, they immediately obtained their dismissal from his troop.
Hunt was enraged at this supposed affront, and riding to the parade, he
publicly challenged his late noble commander to fight a duel. Lord Bruce
had not expected to meet with so violent a reception, and fairly fled;
but in a few days afterwards he obtained a criminal information against
his challenger, in the Court of King's Bench, who was in consequence
fined 100_l._, and sentenced to six weeks' imprisonment. Old Hunt by
this time had discharged the debt of nature, and the penalty was soon
paid; but the six weeks during which our hero was detained in the
Queen's Bench prison served to banish all those feelings of loyalty with
which he had before been inspired; and having associated himself with
some persons, who were professed democrats, he soon joined them in their
political creed. At about this time he was married to the daughter of a
respectable inn-keeper, for whom he is said to have formed a most
romantic attachment. The heat of his passion appears to have worn off
very soon; and ere five years had elapsed he seduced another man's wife,
who eloped with him from Brighton. The conduct of Hunt in reference to
this person appears to be of a most extraordinary character; for in his
Memoirs, he speaks of the unalterable attachment which he bore her, and
with the most fulsome declarations of his love for her, dwells on the
happiness which he had experienced in her society up to the time of the
publication of his work, when she was still living with him (1824). His
indignant and injured wife, it appears, received an annuity of 300_l._
from him, with which she continued to maintain her two daughters, while
her son remained under the care of his father, and his mistress.
Mr. Hunt, at this time, appears to have been living in a style of
considerable pretension. The high prices of farm produce enabled him to
maintain a large establishment, and he followed the sports of the field
with great avidity, while he resided in Bath during the months which
constituted the "season" of that then gay city.
We do not profess to give any lengthened history of his remarkable
career, because to do so would be to exceed the limits and intention of
a work of the character of the present; but the following, we believe,
will be found to be a faithful, though necessarily short, narrative of
the chief circumstances of his life.
While in Bath Mr. Hunt formed an acquaintance with the son of a brewer,
who deluded him into a partnership; and it appears that he absolutely
lost eight thousand pounds in a brewing concern at Bristol, which was
the first occasion of his becoming acquainted with the people of that
city.
In 1804 he first attended a public meeting, which was held at Devizes,
respecting the conduct of Lord Melville; and, in the next year, he first
affixed his name to a public address, calling on the inhabitants of
Wiltshire to oppose the corn laws. Having once embarked in politics, he
was ever restless, and on every possible occasion he forced himself upon
public notice with officious zeal; and in 1807 he came forward at
Bristol, to propose Sir John Jarvis, as a fit representative for that
city.
His noisy interference on all public questions at this time, drew upon
him a host of enemies, particularly among his own neighbours, who
forbade him to sport upon their grounds; and, as no gentleman would hunt
with him, he was obliged to dispose of his stud of horses. On one
occasion he committed a trifling trespass, on which an action was
brought against him, when he effectually pleaded his own cause, and,
encouraged by success, he determined, from that day forward, to dispense
with the assistance of counsel in any legal proceedings in which he
might be engaged.
In 1809 he held the first meeting for reform, for by this time he had
become a disciple of Cobbett. In 1811 he took a large farm in Sussex,
called Rowfant, where he continued to reside for one year, at the
expiration of which he sold it, and went to live at Middleton cottage,
which is situated on the western road, three miles from Andover.
In 1812 he stood twice candidate for Bristol, but was defeated by a
large majority on the opposition of the venerated Sir Samuel Romilly.
This year he also became a liveryman of London, and from that time
Guildhall was often favoured with his presence. He now attended almost
every public meeting throughout the country, and gradually became the
idol of the mob, to whose comprehension his speeches were admirably
adapted. His patriotism, however, proved injurious to his private
affairs, for we find, that in 1815, he had overdrawn his account with
his bankers, who refused to advance him any more money.
In 1816 he attended the notorious meeting in Spa-fields, where he acted
as chairman; but it is only justice to say, that he had held no previous
communication with Thistlewood and his colleagues, except for the
purpose of striking out some portion of their resolutions, which he
considered as offensive. In the year 1818, he appears to have become so
flattered by the success which his previous exertions as a popular
speaker had gained for him, that he resolved to stand for Westminster,
in opposition to Sir Francis Burdett; but whatever may have been his
popularity among his own peculiar party, the experiment was
unsuccessful, and at the close of the poll it was found that his friends
had given only forty-one votes for him; and he had also to regret his
rashness in thus publicly thrusting himself forward, as, while upon the
hustings, he was soundly horsewhipped by a gentleman, upon whom he had
previously inflicted a cowardly and an unmerited injury.
In the year 1819 the principles of radicalism appear to have reached a
point of almost ungovernable fury, and Hunt secured to himself the
character of the best and firmest champion of the party, by his conduct
at a public meeting, which took place at Smithfield at this period, and
at which, in truth, it appears that he acted in a manner without
reproach.
An event, however, soon afterwards occurred which procured for him still
greater notoriety. The Manchester reformers, who had posted up notices
of a meeting to be holden on the 9th of August in this year, for the
purpose of proceeding to the election of a representative, as at
Birmingham, where the people had, some time before, elected Sir Charles
Wolseley as their legislatorial attorney or representative, was informed
by the magistrates that as the object of the proposed assemblage was
unquestionably illegal, it would not be permitted to take place. In
consequence of this expressed determination on the part of the
authorities, the meeting was abandoned, but fresh notices were issued
for a new assemblage on the 16th of the same month, with the avowed
legal object of petitioning for a reform in parliament. An open space in
the town, called St. Peter's Field, was selected as the place of
meeting, and never upon any former occasion of a similar nature was so
great a number of persons known to have met together. For some hours
before the proceedings were appointed to commence, large bodies of
people continued marching into Manchester from the neighbouring villages
and towns, formed in ranks five deep, and many of them armed with stout
staves, while the whole body stepped together as if trained for military
purposes. Each party bore its own banners, and among others two clubs of
female reformers made their appearance, bearing flags of white silk. By
mid-day it was calculated that 60,000 persons had assembled. The
magistrates, it appears, were anxious that the peace should be
preserved, and a number of special constables were sworn in, who formed
themselves in a line, from the house in which the justices were sitting,
to the stage or waggon fixed as a platform for the speakers. Soon after
the business of the meeting had commenced, a body of yeomanry cavalry
entered the ground, and advanced with drawn swords towards the stage,
when their commanding-officer called to Mr. Hunt, who was addressing the
meeting, and informed him that he was his prisoner. Mr. Hunt endeavoured
to procure tranquillity among the people, and offered to surrender
himself to any civil officer who should present himself, and should
exhibit his warrant; and a constable immediately advanced and took him
into custody, with some other persons who were similarly engaged. Some
uneasiness being now exhibited among the mob, the yeomanry cried out to
seize their flags. The men stationed near the waggon, in consequence
began to strike down the banners, which were attached to the platform,
and a similar course being pursued with respect to those which were
raised in other parts of the field, a scene of the most indescribable
confusion ensued. The immense number of persons on the field, rendered
it almost impossible for the military to move without trampling down
some of them under foot; and some resistance being offered, many
persons, including females, were cut down with sabres, and while some
were killed, the number of wounded amounted to between three and four
hundred. In a short time, however, the ground was cleared of its
original occupants, and as they fled in all directions, military
patroles were immediately placed in the streets, to preserve
tranquillity.
It would be almost impossible to give any lengthened or minute
description of this riot, or "massacre," as it has always been called by
the radical opponents of government, without in some degree entering
into the very strong feeling of party prejudice, which has been
universally excited upon the subject. The real circumstances of the case
may be said to be unsettled even to this day; and while the magistrates
and their friends declare that, the Riot Act having been read, the
subsequent proceedings on the part of the soldiery were both justified
and necessary, the friends of the people as invariably deny the
allegation of the reading of the Riot Act, and therefore contend, that
the introduction of a military force was harsh and unconstitutional. The
whole transaction does not appear to have occupied more than ten
minutes, in the course of which time the field seems to have been
cleared of its recent occupiers, and filled with different corps of
infantry and cavalry. Hunt and his colleagues were, after a short
examination before the magistrates, conducted to solitary cells, on a
charge of high-treason, and on the following day notices were issued by
the magistrates, by which the practice of military training, alleged to
have been carried on in secret, by large bodies of men, for treasonable
purposes, was declared to be illegal. Public thanks were, by the same
authority, returned to the officers and men of the respective corps
engaged in the attack; and, on the arrival in London of a despatch from
the local authorities, a cabinet council was held, the result of which
was, the return of official letters of thanks to the magistrates, for
their prompt, decisive, and efficient measures for the preservation of
the public tranquillity; and to all the military engaged, for the
support and assistance afforded by them to the civil power.
The circumstances of the Manchester case eventually turned out to be
such, that government, by the advice of the law officers of the crown,
found it expedient to abandon the threatened prosecution of Mr. Hunt and
his colleagues for high-treason. Those persons were accordingly informed
that they would be proceeded against for a conspiracy only, which might
be bailed; but Mr. Hunt refused to give bail, even, as he said, to the
amount of a single farthing: but some of his friends liberated him. On
his return from Lancaster, where he had been confined, to Manchester,
Hunt was drawn about two miles by women, and ten miles by men. In fact,
his return was one long triumphal procession, waited upon by thousands,
on horse, on foot, and in carriages, who hailed him with continued
shouts of applause.
The sensation produced throughout the country by this fatal business was
intense. Hunt's conduct was universally applauded, and he received the
thanks of nearly every county in England, and those even who opposed him
on principle now forgot their enmity, and hailed him as the
uncompromising champion of liberty. His entry into London was public,
and some of the first characters of the day honoured him with their
presence, whilst hundreds of thousands welcomed him with deafening
applause.
The agitation had hardly subsided when true bills were found against
Hunt and his companions, and their trials came on at York, and
continued, without intermission, for fourteen days, during which time
Hunt displayed powers of intellect, and acuteness of perception, of
which even his friends did not suppose him to be possessed. He was found
guilty, however, and ordered to be brought up to the Court of King's
Bench for sentence, but he afterwards moved, in person, for a new trial.
Although he argued with all the tact and ability of the most experienced
lawyer, his motion was refused, and he was sentenced to two years and a
half imprisonment in Ilchester jail.
He had not been long incarcerated when he brought to light a system of
the most infamous cruelty which had been practised on the unfortunate
inmates of that prison by the barbarous jailor. Mr. Hunt himself, being
treated with great cruelty, addressed a letter to Mr. Justice Bayley,
detailing cases of atrocious cruelty; and the question being at length
brought before the House of Commons, an inquiry followed. Hunt
substantiated all his charges, and the inhuman jailor was dismissed and
punished, while the country rang with the praises of his accuser.
The period of his imprisonment having expired, he again made a public
entry into London; but he found that the times had changed, even during
that short time. The public prosperity had banished discontent, and with
it that wild enthusiasm, which had before been exhibited in his favour,
and he was greeted with none of those demonstrations of delight which
had been before exhibited. He made several attempts to arouse the
lethargy of his former admirers, but in vain; and he at length betook
himself to repair his broken fortunes by the manufacture of English
coffee, with roasted corn, and subsequently in 1824 he added that of
blacking; and so successful was he in this enterprise, that "Hunt's
matchless" became almost as celebrated as the polish of Messrs. Day and
Martin.
Mr. Hunt was subsequently returned as member for Preston in Lancashire,
and he died while yet representing that place in parliament.
ARTHUR THLSTLEWOOD, RICHARD TIDD, JAMES INGS, WILLIAM DAVIDSON, AND JOHN
THOMAS BRUNT.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.