facts as far as I can recollect. May knew nothing of the murder;
and I do not believe that he suspected 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 the contrary until I
confessed 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 Frances 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 she might go home with us, and sit by
the fire all night; she said she would go with us, and 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, and
staid there about an hour. We should have staid 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 we gave her the bottle to
drink; she drank the whole in two or three draughts; there was a
quartern of rum and about half-a-phial of laudanum; she sat down on
the step between the 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 laid 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 back in about half-an hour; we
left the woman in the well 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 hair-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 staid a little while to wait the change of the police.
I told Shields he was to carry the trunk to the London 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 a
hat-box, which he gave her. 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's Hospital I saw Mr. South's footman, and sent him up
stairs to Mr. South to ask if he wanted a subject. The servant
brought me word that his master wanted one, but could not give an
answer until 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 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's Hospital and took it to Mr. Appleton,
who paid me 5_l._ then, and the rest on the following Monday. After
receiving the 5_l._ I went to Shields and Williams and his wife at
the public-house, when I paid Shields 10_s._ for his trouble, and
we 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 small-pox.--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-hoards 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 then 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 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 mixture we had given him to run
out of his body. We then took the body from the well, tore off the
clothes in the garden, and buried them there. The body we carried
into the wash-house, and put it into the same box, and left it
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 engaged, 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 getting 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 two
months, and were killed, I think, by a cat in the garden, when 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 whilst we were at tea.
Until the transactions before set forth, I never was concerned in
obtaining a subject by the 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 a 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. U.S."
"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,
nor 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, nor concerned in the sale of any
other body than the three murdered by Bishop and myself; that May
is a stranger to me; and that I had never seen him more than once
or twice before Friday, the 4th of November last; and that May is
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, 4th December, 1831.
"The above confessions, taken literally, from the prisoners, in our
presence.
"T. WOOD. R. ELLIS. _Under-Sheriffs._"
It was not until subsequently to the delivery of these statements, that
May was acquainted with the merciful consideration which his case had
received.
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. The
reverend 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 he could not possibly
survive--it was believed, indeed, that the warrant of mercy had proved
his death-blow. It was nearly a quarter of an hour before he 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 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 he acknowledged he had
committed many sins for which the Almighty might have justly 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.
On Sunday night the criminals retired to rest at an early hour, but
their efforts to obtain sleep appeared to be vain. They frequently
awoke, and entered into conversation with the persons appointed to watch
them. Occasionally they entered into religious observances, but
generally were averse to them. Once, when the person who sat up with
Williams proposed to read to him some extracts out of religious books
left him by the ordinary, he roughly declined the proposal, saying, "I
had religious talk enough during the day; I will have none of it
to-night." He then entered into conversation with the officer upon the
subject of the offence for which he was going to suffer. He solemnly
assured him, that up to the time of his marriage, he had never had any
connexion with resurrection-men; and even added, that it was not until
his wedding-night that he had any idea that Bishop got his livelihood by
that horrible trade. He told the officer, that on that night, shortly
after he had got to bed, his wife conjured him not to have anything to
do with the snatchers. This led to inquiries on his part, which
terminated in a full disclosure by his wife of the practices by which
his father-in-law (Bishop) supported his family. No communication took
place between him and Bishop on the subject till some time afterwards,
when he was suddenly thrown out of work. Bishop then gradually disclosed
to him his mode of life, and asked him to become a partner in the
trade. Williams assented. He then became a regular resurrection-man;
but, being tired with the difficulties and dangers of the trade, he
proposed to Bishop that, instead of disinterring, they should murder
subjects. He was then asked what led him to make such a proposal, and
his reply was, "the recollection of what Burke had done at Edinburgh."
After some other facts, tallying with those in Bishop's account, he
stated, that on the Sunday after the murder of the woman Pigburn, they
attempted to "Burke" a man whom they accidentally lured into their
power. The laudanum, however, which they had mixed with his liquor was
not strong enough, as Bishop said, to stupify him beyond resistance, and
he was, therefore, allowed to escape, partly from a fear of his
struggles, and partly from Bishop's arm being palsied by a similar
feeling to that which palsied _Lady Macbeth's_ arm in a similar
situation--namely, the feeling that the man whom he was about to
dispatch, "resembled his father as he slept." Still bent on their
murderous trade, they endeavoured, on the following Tuesday, to get
another subject by the same means. Again was the laudanum inefficient;
and in this case, as in the former, the intended victim left the house
in which he met these ruffians without any idea of his having been
exposed to such great and imminent danger.
During a subsequent intermission of sleep, he wrote the following
letter, addressed to Mr. Russell, the chaplain of the Penitentiary, in
which prison he had once been confined for three years:--
"Newgate, 4th December, 1831.
"MR. RUSSELL--If you will be kind enough to let my brother
prisoners know the awful death which I shall have suffered when you
receive this, it will, through your expostulations, prevent them
from increasing their crimes when they may be liberated; and tell
them, bad company, and drinking, and blasphemy, is the foundation
of all evil. Give my brotherly love to them, and tell them never to
deviate from the paths of religion, and have a firm belief in their
blessed Saviour. Give my love to John Edwards, John Justin, and
John Dingle, and receive the prayers of the unfortunate and
guilty--
"THOMAS HEAD." (His real name.)
Both prisoners rose at six o'clock in the morning, and were soon after
visited by the reverend gentleman who had before attended them.
Williams, at times, appeared fervent in his devotions, and prayed
earnestly; but at intervals he would pause, and seem as if his prayer
was hopeless; again he would resume his prayer, and clasp his hands in
great agony. Bishop also prayed, but he by no means showed the same
fervour as his companion. There was a listlessness in his manner
approaching to indifference, not merely to religion, but to everything
passing around him. At one time, when urged on the subject of his hope
of forgiveness, he said he did hope and trust for mercy through Jesus
Christ. He added, that he fully deserved what he was about to suffer,
but that his case would be desperate if some greater mercy were not
extended to him in the world which he was about to enter.
At half-past seven o'clock, the sheriffs, accompanied by the
under-sheriffs, and several gentlemen to whom they had given permission
to be present, entered the prison. The sheriffs immediately proceeded to
the condemned cells, where Mr. Wontner, the governor, delivered the
prisoners up to them for execution. The sheriffs then proceeded to the
press-room, to which the strangers who had obtained admission to the
prison were also admitted. The prisoners were soon after introduced by
the sheriffs' officers. Bishop entered first. That kind of stupor which
had been noticed when the verdict of the jury was pronounced, was still
more strongly upon him. He advanced in rather a drooping manner, his eye
fixed on the ground. His step was slow, without being firm, and his
whole bearing was rather that of a man unconscious of, than indifferent
to, the dreadful scene through which he was about to pass. He had got
more than half-way to the upper end of the room before he looked around;
when he did, a kind of half-suppressed groan escaped him, as from one
who was, for a moment, roused to a quick sense of an approaching violent
death.
But it was only for a moment; for at once he seemed to relapse into his
former stupor: his eye was again bent on the ground, and he moved
mechanically up to the officer, who stood ready to tie his hands, and
stretched forth his arms, the wrists being closely pressed together.
When that part of the preparation was concluded, he turned round, and
allowed his arms to be pinioned. This done, he took his seat at a side
bench without uttering a word. One of the under-sheriffs took a seat by
his side, and, in a low tone, asked him whether he had anything more to
confess. His answer was, "No, sir, I have told all." The under-sheriff
remained with him for a few moments, but the only answers which could be
obtained from him were to the effect that he had nothing more to tell.
Williams was next introduced, and came up the room with the same short
hasty step which was noticed at the time of his sentence. Since then,
however, his whole appearance had undergone the most terrible
alteration. That cunning and flippant air which was noticed in him on
his trial had left him. His look, as he entered the press-room on
Monday, was one of downright horror--every limb trembled as he
approached the officer by whom he was to be pinioned, and his hands
shook to that degree, that one person was obliged to hold them up while
another bound them together. While submitting to this operation, he
frequently ejaculated, "Oh, I have deserved all this and more!--oh, I
have deserved all I am about to suffer!" One of the under-sheriffs now
asked him whether he had anything more on his mind, or wished to make
any further disclosure. He replied, "Oh no, sir, I have told all--I hope
I am now at peace with God. What I have told is the truth."
After the operation of pinioning had been gone through, at a few minutes
before eight, the sheriffs, accompanied by their officers and the
prisoners, proceeded towards the scaffold, the ordinary reciting part of
the funeral service. Bishop moved on in the same gloomy and desponding
manner which we have noticed. His appearance underwent no change as he
approached the foot of the scaffold. Williams became more and more
agitated as he advanced. Just as he came to the room which led out to
the drop, he expressed a wish to see the Rev. Mr. Russell once more.
That gentleman came forward, and while Bishop was being led out, seated
himself near him. Mr. Russell said to him, "Now, Williams, you have
another moment intervening between this and death; and, as a dying man,
I implore you, in God's name, to tell the truth; have you told me the
whole truth?" Williams: "All I have told you, is true." Mr. Russell:
'But, Williams, have you told me all?" Williams, (still evasive): "All I
have told you is quite true." This was the last remark he made, and in a
few moments he ascended the scaffold.
The scene without the prison was no less exciting than that which was
passing within the jail.
The execution of these wretched and atrocious criminals attracted, as
might have been expected, an immense assemblage to the spot, and every
possible preparation had been made by the civil authorities for the
purpose of mitigating the pressure of the anticipated crowd. The crowd,
as early as one o'clock in the morning, had amounted to several thousand
persons, and continued rapidly increasing. By five o'clock nearly
two-thirds of the Old Bailey were filled with a dense mass of people.
The continued buz among the multitude at this time, the glare of light
from the torches that were used for the purpose of enabling the workmen
to proceed with their labours, and the terrific struggles among the
crowd, altogether presented a scene which those who witnessed it will
not soon forget. When the fatal drop was stationed in its usual place,
it was observed that three chains were suspended from it. As soon as Mr.
Wontner, the governor of Newgate, heard of it, he ordered an officer to
remove one of them, in consequence of May having been respited. This was
done; and, although it was then dark, it was instantly communicated
throughout the vast assemblage, and a general cry of "May is respited!"
was uttered.
At daybreak there were not less than from thirty thousand to forty
thousand persons assembled. The tops of the houses, lamp-posts, and
every station from which the most distant view of the execution could be
obtained was occupied. In fact, from one end of the Old Bailey to the
other was one dense mass; and the streets in the neighbourhood, although
not a glance could be had of the platform or the proceedings, were, from
an early hour, rendered impassable by the throng of persons hurrying
towards the scene of execution. The assemblage was the largest that had
ever been witnessed on an occasion of the kind since the execution of
Holloway and Haggerty, upwards of twenty years before. Notwithstanding
the precautions taken by the city authorities to prevent accidents,
several occurred. At the end of Giltspur-street, immediately opposite
the Compter, a very heavy barrier was erected across the road, for the
purpose of counteracting the immense pressure of the mob, which in that
direction extended to Smithfield. This barrier was fastened to two
uprights, that were placed two feet in the ground, by iron hooping,
which was by no means of sufficient strength for the immense weight of
the timber to which it was attached. The consequence was, that at the
moment the culprits were visible on the gallows, the barrier was forced
down, and a number of persons of both sexes fell with it. The screams of
the females, and the confusion that ensued, was truly alarming. Several
persons were carried to the hospital, but no life was lost.
As the hour of eight approached, the anxiety of the multitude became
most intense; and every eye appeared directed towards the door through
which the wretched criminals were to be led to the scaffold.
At eight o'clock the procession began to move from the Press-room, and
the appearance of the executioner and his assistant on the scaffold
indicated that the last awful ceremony was just at hand. A general cry
of "Hats off!" took place, and in an instant the immense multitude were
all uncovered. Bishop was first conducted on the scaffold, and his
appearance was the signal for the most tremendous groans, yells, and
hootings from all parts of the crowd. The wretched man came forward
apparently unmoved by the dreadful reception he experienced. The
executioner proceeded at once to the performance of his duty; and having
put the rope round his neck, and fixed it to the chain, placed him under
the fatal beam. A terrific cheer from the crowd proclaimed their
satisfaction at the completion of the preparation for his exit to the
other world; but still, though placed on the brink of eternity, and
about to be launched into it amidst the execrations of his
fellow-creatures, the miserable criminal betrayed scarce a symptom of
fear. The same listless and sullen manner that had marked his conduct
throughout appeared to be preserved by him to the last moment. Not a
muscle seemed to be moved, not a limb to shake, though he remained,
during the awful interval of two minutes that elapsed before Williams
was brought forward, exposed to the indignant hootings of the multitude.
Williams next ascended the scaffold, on reaching which he bowed to the
crowd, who returned his salutation with the most dreadful yells and
groans. He appeared to labour under extreme anguish, and his demeanour
altogether formed a complete contrast to that of his guilty associate.
While the cap was being put over his eyes, and the rope adjusted by the
executioner, his whole frame seemed convulsed by a universal tremor. The
Rev. Mr. Cotton, having engaged the wretched men in prayer--in which
Williams appeared to join fervently, wringing his hands and ejaculating
aloud--gave the signal for the falling of the drop, when they were
launched into eternity. Bishop appeared to die almost instantaneously,
but Williams struggled for several minutes. The moment the drop fell,
the crowd, which had been yelling all the time, set up a shout of
exultation that was prolonged for several minutes.
The bodies having been suspended for the usual time, were cut down at
nine o'clock. That operation was performed by the executioner amidst the
shouts and cheers of the crowd, which still continued very great.
Immediately after a small cart drove up to the platform, and the bodies
of the culprits were placed in it, covered with two sacks. The cart then
moved on at a slow pace, followed by the sheriffs and city-marshal, and
a large body of constables, along Giltspur-street, to the house of Mr.
Stone, No. 33, Hosier-lane--the vast crowd yelling and making other
discordant sounds as they proceeded. On reaching Mr. Stone's house, it
was with great difficulty the bodies could be removed from the cart, the
crowd appearing anxious to get possession of them. The bodies were
placed on a table, and in the presence of the sheriffs (in conformity
with their duty), an incision was made in their chests, after which they
withdrew. The bodies were removed the same night--Bishop to the King's
College, and Williams to the Theatre of Anatomy, in Windmill-street,
Haymarket--to be dissected. They were publicly exhibited on Tuesday and
Wednesday, at both places, when immense crowds of persons were admitted
to see their remains.
The skeletons of the two criminals still adorn the museums of the
schools, in which their bodies were dissected.
The case of the murder of a Mrs. Pigburn has already been alluded to in
the course of this article, and it will be seen that, in the confession
made by the two convicts, they admitted their participation in that
crime. The statement made by them appears to be strictly correct, as it
was fully borne out by Shields, the porter, in a statement which he made
before the magistrates at Bow-street.
In consequence of this declaration Mrs. Williams, the wife of the
prisoner, was taken into custody on suspicion of her having been
concerned in the murder. From her statement, some curious circumstances
were elicited as to the prisoners, and her own and her mother's
relationship to them. She said that Bishop was the son of a carrier, who
lived at Highgate, and who, in the course of a long life, succeeded in
amassing a considerable sum of money. Mrs. Bishop, who was at the time
of the inquiry about forty years of age, was married to the old man as
his third wife, and at this time there were several children living,
amongst whom were John Bishop, the convict, and herself, who were
half-brother and sister, being both the children of the old man, but by
different mothers. At the death of old Bishop, it was found that, by his
will, he had divided his property between his last wife, his children,
and some other relatives: and the payment of 15_s._ per week was secured
to his widow out of a portion of the estate, in which some of the
relations had a reversionary interest. In less than six months after the
old man's death, his widow and his son married, and they had lived
together ever since. She (then Rhoda Bishop), subsequently became
acquainted with Williams, whose real name was Head; he had been bred a
carpenter, but at this time followed the occupation of a glass-blower,
and after a short courtship they were married (about two months before
her husband's apprehension on the charge of murder), she being then
seventeen years of age. She denied that she was at all aware of the
diabolical crimes which had been resorted to by her husband and her
half-brother; and although she admitted that she had accompanied Shields
on the occasion pointed out, she declared that she was not informed of
the nature of the load which he carried.
Mrs. Williams was remanded for a week, but at the expiration of that
time, there being no evidence to implicate her in the horrid affair, she
was discharged.
We have only a few words to add, in reference to May, to close our
notice of these most detestable criminals.
May (who was a tall, light-haired, and rather good-looking man, about
thirty years of age) was the natural son of a barrister, who formerly
had chambers in the New Inn. His mother was a laundress in the chambers;
she was particularly fond of her son, and when he was about twelve years
of age she used to lead him about, fearful that any harm should come to
him. He was brought up at a boarding-school, and received a tolerable
education: he wrote an excellent hand, and at the age of fourteen he was
employed in a professional gentleman's office, at No. 10, in the New
Inn; but he was always of a wild, roving disposition, and whenever he
could get away from his duties he was associating with the worst
characters about Clare-market. This appeared to be his sole delight,
until he neglected the office altogether, and was, consequently,
discharged. He had at the same time some good friends, who felt an
interest in his welfare, but nothing could induce him to break-off with
his associates; and, instead of remaining a clerk, which he was well
adapted for, he took a liking to be a butcher. The first place he got
was at Mr. Roberts's, in Clare-market, with whom he lived some time: he
afterwards lived with Mr. Price, in the same market; but he never
remained long in one place. At last he took up the trade of a
"body-snatcher;" and, in order to carry on the business with the greater
facility, took a lodging in one of the houses in Clement's-lane, Strand,
the back of which looks into the burying-ground, situated in
Portugal-street, at the rear of St. Clement Danes' workhouse. Here he
commenced business, and was very successful; but, like many others,
flushed by success, he could not keep his own secret, and would brag of
the number of bodies he had got out of the burying-ground at the back of
his lodgings of a night, and what sums he had sold them for. He at first
made no secret of his profession, and considered it meritorious, till,
at last, he found that he was detested and despised by every person. He
then left that part of the town, and got acquainted with Bishop and his
associates.