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 Cornell University Library 
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 Lives of twelve bad men. 0|;'9i"f,] ..Sf.lJ'''^ 
 
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 3 1924 029 870 874 
 
|l Cornell University 
 J Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029870874 
 
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LIVES OF 
 
 TWELVE BAD MEN 
 
 ORIGINAL STUDIES OF EMINENT 
 SCOUNDRELS BY VARIOUS HANDS 
 EDITED BY THOMAS SECCOMBE 
 
 ^o(j)oi fiev TTOvfjpol Se. 
 
 gonhon 
 
 T. FISHER UNWIN 
 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE 
 
 MDCCCXCIV 
 
 «1 
 

 / 
 
 IV, I^^OXO 
 
TO THE MEMORY 
 
 OF 
 
 BARRY LYNDON, ESQUiRE, 
 
 THESE MEMOIRS 
 
 ARE 
 
 PIOUSLY 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Preface 
 
 PAGE 
 
 xvii 
 
 I. James Hepburn, ^ar/^^(7//zzc/^// (1536-1578) . t 
 
 By G. GREGORY SMITH. 
 
 II. Sir Edward Kelley, Necromancer (1555-1595) . 34 
 
 By a. F. pollard. 
 
 III. Matthew Hopkins, Wttchjinder {d. id^-j) . . 55 
 
 By J. O. JONES. 
 
 IV. George Jeffreys, Unjust Judge {i64%-i62>()) . . 67 
 
 By W. a. J. ARCHBOLD. 
 
 V. Titus Gates, /V?-/?^;^*?- (1649-1705) . . 95 
 
 By THOMAS SECCOMBE. 
 
 VI. Simon Eraser, Z(7r(/Z(?»a/ (1667-1747) . . 155 
 
 By J. W. ALLEN. 
 
 VII. Colonel Francis Charteris, Zz/^^r^mi? (1675-1732) . 200 
 
 By ARTHUR VINCENT. 
 
 VIII. Jonathan Wild, 7%/(?/%z,4er (1682-1725) . . 219 
 
 By ARTHUR VINCENT. 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 IX. James Maclaine " The Gentleman Highwayman" 
 
 (1724-1750) ...... 246 
 
 By G. thorn DRURY. 
 
 X. George Robert Fitzgerald '■^Fighting Fitzgerald" 
 
 (1748-1786) . . . . . .265 
 
 By G. LE G. NORGATE. 
 
 XI. Thomas Griffiths WAiNEWRiGHT,/'(7?Vtf«^i>-(i794-i852) 292 
 
 By a. G. ALLEN. 
 
 XII. Edward Kelly, Bushranger (1855-1880) . 322 
 
 By J. W. ALLEN. 
 
 Appendix . ■ 3Si 
 
 Index . ... 363 
 
NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Frontispiece. 
 
 "^ 
 
 Simon, Lord Lovat, counting the clans on his fingers. *' Drawn from the 
 life and etch'd in aquafortis by William Hogarth." Published on August 25, 
 1746. The original of this famous etching, a sketch in oils, is now in the 
 National Portrait Gallery. It is said that, when the plate was finished, a 
 bookseller offered its weight in gold for it. The impressions, sold at one 
 shilling each, could not be taken from the copper as fast as they were wanted, 
 though the rolling press was kept at work day and night. Hogarth received 
 twelve pounds a day for the impressions. The description given of Lovat by 
 a correspondent in the Gentletnan's Magazine at the time of the trial tallies 
 well with this remarkable likeness : — " Lord Lovat makes an odd figure, 
 being generally more loaded with clothes than a Dutchman with his ten pairs 
 of breeches ; he is tall, walks very upright considering his great age, and is 
 tolerably well shaped ; he has a large mouth and short nose, with eyes very 
 much contracted and down-looking, a very small forehead, almost all covered 
 with a large periwig ; this gives him a grim aspect, but upon addressing any 
 one he puts on a smiling countenance." 
 
 Title-page. 
 
 The illustration on the title-p^e is engraved from a rare gilt medal struck in 
 1678, and now in the British Museum. On the obverse is a portrait of 
 " T. Oates, D.D.," and on the reverse a view of Pickering, with his "screw- 
 gun," stalking Charles II. in St. James's Park. One of the cards in the well- 
 known popish-plot pack of playing cards, mentioned on p. Ill, has the same 
 subject. This medal is figured. in Pinkerton, and described in Hawkins's 
 " Medallic History." 
 
 Kelley Invoking a Spirit . . . to face p. 34 
 
 This picture of " Ed. Kelley, a magician, in the Act of invoking the 
 Spirit of a Deceased Person," engraved by Ames, after Sibly, is from 
 an illustration in one of Dee's works. The figure holding the book is 
 that of Kelley, as his earless head testifies. George Cruikshank depicted 
 the necromancer, engaged in a similar occupation, in Ainsworth's "Guy 
 Fawkes." 
 
X NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Portrait of Sir Edward Kelley . . to face p. 3S 
 
 This portrait is after a mezzotint by R. Cooper, and was originally 
 executed for Baldwyn's edition of William Lilly's Autobiography, 
 London, 1822. A note states that it was prefixed to Dr. Dee's " Book 
 of Spirits," 1659, a work which it is not easy to identify. It certainly 
 resembles the older portraits, one of which is given in Meric Casaubon's 
 work. There is another portrait in the IVIuseum Print-room, subscribed 
 " Eduardvs Kellaevs celebrus Anglus et Chymise Peritissimus. Ex 
 coUectione Frederici Rothscholtzii." 
 
 Portrait of Matthew Hopkins . . to face -p. 55; 
 
 This curious woodcut forms the frontispiece to the witch-finder's " Dis- 
 covery of Witches " (see p. 65). On one side sits Elizabeth Clark, who 
 gives the names of her imps, and on the right is another witch, perhaps 
 Helen Clark. It was reproduced in Caulfield's " Memoirs of Remark- 
 able Persons," 1794, where it is described as " correctly copied from an 
 extreme rare print in the collection of J. Bindley, Esq." It is similarly 
 reproduced in the first volume of the Anthologia Hibernica. A rude 
 portrait of Hopkins in a cuirass and a conical hat, as he is here repre- 
 sented, is prefixed to a reprint of his " Discovery " issued in 1838. 
 
 Portrait of JudCtE Jeffreys . . to face p. 67 
 
 There are two engravings in the British Museum from this fine portrait 
 by Kneller — one by Isaac Oliver, the other by E. Cooper. Both, but 
 especially the former, are extremely rare. It is uncertain whether the 
 title was ever actually conferred (see p. 91). It has been seriously asserted 
 that the titles " Earle of Flint," &c. (as reproduced at the foot of the 
 portrait), were given satirically. Another fine portrait of the judge by 
 Kneller was engraved by R. White, who executed our portrait of Titus 
 Oates, in 1684. 
 
 Jeffreys taken at Wapping . . to face p. g? 
 
 The original of this plate, dated December 12, 1688, and described as 
 engraved for the " Devil's Broker," represents the Lord Chancellor 
 surrounded by a crowd of persons, who are conducting him to a place of 
 safe keeping, and, in the meantime, not sparing their reproaches. It is 
 worth noting that his eyebrows are not shaved off, as Reresby states them 
 to have been, as a means of disguise. On the right, above, is Father 
 Petre, and at the foot is the devil issuing, amid flames, from the earth, 
 and clawing a Jesuit's head. This print was very popular both in Eng- 
 land and the Netherlands. 
 
 Portrait of Titus Oates . . . to face p. 95 
 
 This portrait of the perjurer, drawn and engraved by R. White, was 
 executed in 1679, when Titus was at the zenith of his popularity. The 
 verses below are fitter for reproduction than the scurrilities appended to 
 
NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS. xi 
 
 the uncomplimentary portraits of him "peeping through a two-inch 
 board," or as " Oats well thresh't," which became the fashion in 1685 : — 
 
 " Behold the Chief and Happy Instrument, 
 Whom Providence for Britain's safety sent. 
 Westminster (?) taught him, Cambridge bred him, then 
 Left him instead of books to study Men. 
 And these he studied with so true an Art, 
 As deeply div'd into the very Heart 
 Of Foul Conspiracy. . . " 
 
 This is the most authentic portrait, though it is perhaps surpassed in 
 interest by another, entitled " Bob Ferguson ; or, the Raree Shew of 
 Mamamouchee Mufty." This in reality represents Oates, his head-dress 
 being half a Jesuit's cap, half a Turk's turban. He carries a Protestant 
 flail in his right hand ; on his left side he wears a loose cloak. The title 
 is a reference to the notorious plotter with whom Oates is compared. 
 Mamamouchi (homme habille h la Turque) Mufti are two cant words 
 borrowed from the ballet in Moliere's Bourgeois Gentilhomme. The 
 lines below are rich in choice allusions to the more outlandish traits in 
 Oates's character. Other portraits of him are numerous. 
 
 The Devil, Titus Oates, and the Pope . to face p. 1 1 7 
 
 This print, which was probably published in 1678, explains itself. The 
 partnership between those two oft-quoted functionaries, the devil and the 
 pope, forms the subject of numerous rhymes and pictures at this period. 
 A woodcut of "The Plot first hatched at Rome by the Pope and the 
 Cardinalls " forms the ace in the pack of playing-cards already alluded to. 
 The devil is here represented crouching under a table at which the pope 
 and cardinals are sitting. Another broadside, with a typical cut, was 
 entitled, "London's Drollery; or, the Love and Kindness between the 
 Pope and the Devil " ; and in a similar vein were conceived " A Nest of 
 Nunne's Eggs," " Rome's Hunting Match for Three Kingdoms," and 
 "The Pope Haunted with Ghosts." 
 
 Oates, his Degrees . ... to face p. 142 
 
 This is one of a large number of satires upon Oates, examples of which 
 are almost as numerous as the laudatory productions. The crushed eggs 
 on the pillory are prophetic only of the artist's hopes, the mezzotint 
 having been published two days before Oates's actual punishment. The 
 devil perched upon the gallows behind looks wistfully at his pupil, and 
 dangles a halter over his head. 
 
 The Beautifull Simone . . . to face ^. 155 
 
 This portrait of Lovat in female attire refers to the report current at the 
 time that he was taken disguised as an old woman, and some added that 
 he was found spinning and smoking a short pipe (see Westminster 
 Journal, June 28, 1746). The foundation for the myth is confined to 
 the fact that Simon's hiding-place in the hollow of a tree was discovered 
 owing to the protrusion of a few of the many yards of flannel in which 
 his body was swathed. 
 
xii NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Interior of Westminster Hall . . to face p. 196 
 
 This admirable contemporary print is entitled, " A Perspective View of 
 Westminster Hall with both Houses of Parliament Assembled on the 
 Tryal of Simon, Lord Lovat." Subjoined is a key to the figures. A— 
 Speaker, B— Members of House of Commons, C— Other members, D— 
 Managers for the House of Commons, E— The Managers' Clerks, 
 F— Lord Lovat, G — Witness giving evidence, H — Prisoner's counsel, 
 K— King's box, L— Prince of Wales's box, M— Duke of Cumberland 
 and other members of the Royal Family, N — The box where Princess 
 ■ Amelia sat during the trial, O— Foreign Ambassadors, P— Peeresses, 
 T — Earl of Orford's gallery. The most important numbers are : — 
 I— The King's Chair, 5— The Lord High Steward, 6— The two arch- 
 bishops, 7 — The bishops, 8, 9 — Dukes and barons, 10 — Earls and 
 viscounts, 14— The judges, 15 — Serjeant at the Mace, 16 — Lord High 
 Steward's Purse-bearer, 17 — Clerks belonging to the House of Lords. 
 The scaffoldings, we are particularly informed, were hung with red bays, 
 except where the House of Commons sat, and that portion was covered 
 with green bays. 
 
 Portrait of Colonel Charteris . . to face p. 200 
 
 This mezzotint of " Colonel Francisco,'' with his thumbs tied, which was 
 executed in 1730, is fully described in the text (p. 213). Other portraits 
 in the Print-room at the British Museum are, " To the glory of Colonel 
 Don Francisco upon his delivery out of gaol," and " Colonel Charteris 
 contemplating the Venus of Titian." 
 
 Portrait of Jonathan Wild . . . to face p. 219 
 
 The rough woodcut from which this is taken is probably the only con- 
 temporary representation of the Thief-taker in existence. 
 
 Portrait of James Maclaine . . to face p. 246 
 
 This, which is by far the most elaborate of the portraits of Maclaine, is 
 reproduced in Caulfield's " Memoirs of Remarkable Persons." The face 
 bears a decided resemblance to that of the portraits prefixed to the " Con- 
 temporary Lives," which are mentioned in the Appendix of Authorities. 
 The names of both the original artist and the engraver are unknown. 
 
 James Maclaine at the Bar . . . to face p. 259 
 
 The number of these portraits and illustrations of the close of Maclaine's 
 career testify to the extraordinary interest which was excited at the time 
 by this very unattractive rogue. Another engraving in the Museum 
 represents him in Newgate surrounded by members of the fair sex, who 
 are making a liberal use of their pocket-handkerchiefs. It is entitled, 
 " Newgate's Lamentation ; or, the Ladys last farewell of Maclean." 
 Lady Caroline Petersham, afterwards Cpuntess of Harrington, who is 
 here depicted speaking on the outlaw's behalf, was satirised in some 
 other engravings, of which we have not been able to find any trace. 
 According to the advertisements in the contemporary papers, she was 
 portrayed, with Miss Ashe, as one of Maclaine's "doxies," and also 
 figured in "The presentation of the purse of gold to Maclean by the sub- 
 scribers." 
 
NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS. xiii 
 
 / 
 Portrait of G. R. Fitzgerald . . to face p. 265 
 
 This likeness of Fitzgerald, which was originally engraved for the 
 Monthly Mirror, has been said to exhibit great duplicity. Investigation 
 has revealed the melancholy fact that the same block has done duty both 
 for the duellist and for the actor, Stephen Kemble. As, however, no 
 other portrait of Fitzgerald is known to exist, it would be rash to deny to 
 this one the merit of resemblance. 
 
 Ned Kelly in his Armour . . . to face p. 322 
 
 For permission to use this illustration from Superintendent Hare's book, 
 "The Last of the Bushrangers," we are indebted to the courtesy of 
 Messrs. Hurst and Blackett. A full description of the armour depicted 
 will be found in the text. 
 
 For information respecting the authorities used in the compilation 
 of the Twelve Lives, the reader is referred to the Appendix of 
 Authorities at the end of the volume. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE practice of whitewashing has proved as injurious 
 to biography as the worst taint of bigotry or partisan- 
 ship in the pages of history. Of course there are no really 
 bad men extant in England at the present day, so that the 
 process might naturally be expected to be but little in 
 demand. But many picturesque figures of the past have 
 undergone this philistine disfigurement. Richard III., 
 Henry VIH., Bloody Mary, and Oliver Cromwell, have all 
 been rehabilitated, and the last, at least, demonstrated to be 
 much nearer akin to a saint than a sinner. The very pirates 
 of romance, men such as Sir Henry Morgan and Captain 
 Kyd, have been proved to be no worse than they need have 
 been ; and as for literary characters, any unamiable traits 
 that might have been attributed to certain members of that 
 saintly band have long since been shown to be misinterpreted 
 virtues. The villain has been banished to the detective 
 story, and every deviation from the path of mere collective 
 morality is explained by either artistic temperament or 
 psychological eccentricity. The tendency has gone so far 
 that one is led to ask oneself, not without the gravest appre- 
 hension, " Is there, then, no evidence to be found of extreme 
 depravity ? " For the wholesale elimination of the utter 
 villain from history could hardly be regarded save in the light 
 of an aesthetic calamity. Fortunately for lovers of the pic- 
 turesque, as the result of careful inquiry, a few choice spirits 
 have been found whose robust vices have deiied the insidious 
 influence of research : men whom it would certainly be pre- 
 mature to make any attempt at whitewashing. This work, 
 
xviii PREFACE. 
 
 then, avows as its serious object the rehabilitation of the 
 bad man in his native badness. 
 
 Society is apt to flatter itself that exceptional talents are 
 denied to persons who indulge in the worst forms of depravity. 
 But it can hardly be denied that some of the individuals 
 whose exploits we have recorded, from materials which have 
 hitherto been often completely unexplored, were men of 
 really great ability. All of them attained to eminence in 
 ill-doing, and if they had devoted their energies to more 
 legitimate pursuits, would doubtless have long since found 
 authoritative biographers. " An honest man," as Schiller 
 says, " may be formed of windle-straws, but to make a rogue 
 you must have grist." 
 
 Our first principle being the exclusion of other than un- 
 mitigated miscreants, the process of selection, though far 
 from easy, was much simplified. To turn, albeit regretfully, 
 from palaeontological evidences of villainy was imperative. 
 History possesses a fine mammoth criminal in King John, 
 but the deposits in which areto be found the records of his 
 activity are unsavoury with age, difficult of exploration, and 
 incapable of exact exposition. The bad men of modern 
 Britain exhaust our scheme, and ample material has been 
 found without extending the rake to any scandal older than 
 Queen Elizabeth. So, too, the temptation to paradox has 
 been sternly resisted, and the task of resolving such com- 
 pound characters as those of Lord Verulam and John 
 Churchill, Eugene Aram and Leonard Macnally, has been 
 left to the perennial ingenuity of essayists less single-minded 
 and less modest than ourselves. 
 
 A natural succession of precedents led us almost insensibly 
 to fix upon twelve as the number of subjects; and if, as has 
 been affirmed, "the phrase a had, man has rather degene- 
 rated in England," let it be our worthy endeavour, by 
 associating it with such men as Titus Gates and Jonathan 
 Wild and Thomas Griffiths Wainewright, to restore to a 
 really expressive and comprehensive term as much as 
 possible of its native vigour. As biography, like gossip, is 
 rather apt to be spoiled by moralising, this corroding ele- 
 ment has as far as possible been eliminated. Nevertheless, 
 
PREFACE, xix 
 
 and in case any serious reader, after a perusal of the book, 
 should entertain any doubts as to its precise ethical drift, 
 we are free to maintain with the utmost sincerity that, 
 since " George Barnwell " has been denied to the London 
 prentices, no narratives of life and adventure have appeared 
 more commendably moral in tendency than these ; and they 
 are frankly and freely suggested as a source whence earnest 
 and improving divines may point their morals and enliverr 
 their pulpits. That their researches have led the writers- 
 of this volume into some exceedingly curious byways 
 of social history is a fact which, it is trusted, will be 
 patent to the general reader no less than to the advocates of 
 social purity and to those specially interested in antiquarian 
 matters. 
 
 Our contents will be found to exhibit a striking diversity 
 in the manner of the crime as well as in the historic period 
 and status of the criminal. Our unifying principle is pre- 
 eminence in ill-doing. Our fit protagonist is Bothwell, a 
 spacious villain of the bloody, bold, and resolute type. In 
 piquant contrast figures the vulpine alchemist. Sir Edward 
 Kelley, a rival to Galeotti in pretension, to Cagliostro in 
 cunning, and to Casanova in profligacy. The reigns of 
 the o'erwise author of " Dcemonologie . . . divided into 
 Three Bookes " and his successor are appfopriately repre- 
 sented by Matthew Hopkins, the witch-pricker ; then comes 
 a portrait of Judge Jeffreys, cramoisie from bullying wit- 
 nesses adverse to the Crown, whose career (in spite of 
 attempts to powder his visage to a semblance of refine- 
 ment) remains a standing reproach to judicial history,, 
 and in its endowment with lethal properties is only 
 approached by that of his monstrous contemporary, that 
 upas-tree of his period, Titus Oates. The era of political 
 vicissitudes and of the Vicar of Bray is represented by 
 yet another historical personage, the double-faced old 
 Jacobite fox, Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat. Him follows 
 Colonel Francis Charteris, a valuable corrective to erroneous 
 notions respecting the teacup times of Queen Anne, who 
 possesses, moreover, the peculiar interest that attaches to vice- 
 specialists. The professional rascality of the eighteenth 
 
XX PREFACE. 
 
 century is represented by that weevil among criminals, 
 Jonathan Wild, and by James Maclaine, a robber whose 
 fame has become clouded, but in whom the absence of 
 redeeming qualities is really noticeable. The possibility 
 of another injustice to old Ireland has been obviated by 
 the selection of Fighting Fitzgerald from among a mob 
 of meritorious countrymen and contemporaries. Eng- 
 land reasserts its supremacy with the pseudo-Italianate 
 scoundrel, Thomas Griffiths Wainewright, poisoner and 
 precioso ; and the tale is suitably completed by that too 
 enterprising colonial, Ned Kelly, the bushranger. The 
 picturesque achievements of this last are worthy of the 
 best traditions, and afford welcome refutation to the charge 
 of nineteenth-century tameness or degeneracy. 
 
 Each criminal has been given in charge of a competent 
 and responsible person, not so much for purposes of dis- 
 section as of description ai vivum. If any of their crime- 
 stained stories prove entertaining, it is well. But poverty 
 of crime has in no case been atoned for by a wealth of bio- 
 graphical imagination. The following memoirs are in every 
 case the outcome of genuine research among contempo- 
 rary records, combined with reference to the most authentic 
 o~f subsequent sources. So the chief authorities are given 
 for each memoir, though a pious profusion of sepulchral 
 stumbling-blocks — such as are interpolated references — has 
 been carefully avoided. It has been attempted, in fine, to 
 dissociate accuracy from its frequent concomitant, deadness ; 
 and, in the words of the worthy Lawrence Eachard, to 
 represent culpable lives and actions " with all simplicity 
 and fidelity, as well as all freedom and decency." 
 
 163, Holland Road, W. 
 Apn7 5, 1894. 
 
JAMES HEPBURN, 
 
 EARL OF BOTHWELL. 
 
 (i536-i.'578-) 
 
 " A race of wicked acts 
 Shall flow out of my anger, and o'erspread 
 The world's wide face, which no posterity 
 Shall e'er approve, nor yet keep silent." 
 
 SsyANus. 
 
 THE frenzies which issued from the Silver Casket still 
 show, at the remove of three centuries, a power for 
 havoc of the patriotic heart and critical brain which would 
 do credit to a second Pandora. We praise and damn Queen 
 Mary with the earnestness of a sixteenth-century Scot ; and 
 research is jpowerless to stay the eternal squabble of senti- 
 ment. An earnest Mariolater lately announced that his 
 beautiful quarto would " finally dispose " of the " calumnies 
 of hostile historians," but this confidence m an ending of the 
 matter was but part of the critical madness. One topic, 
 however, remains behind, about which we do not quarrel over- 
 much. The character of the man who shaped the destinies 
 of Mary, who raised the mystery we cannot solve, has passed 
 down to us and been accepted with an unanimity which is a 
 relief. Bothwell in all the fairy books of this thrilling period 
 is the bold bad man ; to dispel which pleasant fancy would 
 be unseemly. Though some have made him ugly, as others 
 have found Mary divinely fair, we may, for peace's sake, give 
 him the credit of goodly features : a well-favoured villain may 
 better the melodrama. Meanwhile, as the sanely generous 
 
2 TWELVE BAP MEN. 
 
 biographer has not yet found hin^i out an honest man seeking 
 some principle of good by strange paths, we can hurt no feel- 
 ings, and may not be charged with fanaticism, if we retell in 
 brief the story of his boldness and his badness. 
 
 I. 
 
 James Hepburn's father, Earl Patrick, gave him haughti- 
 ness and a mind for ambitious schemes. From his mother 
 Agnes, daughter of Lord Henry Sinclair, the "fader of 
 bookis and lare " of the poet Gawin Douglas, he might 
 have drawn some gentler inspiration, but the roving nature 
 of the Sinclairs, which drove them to seek honour in Nor- 
 way and the East, sorted more readily with the spirit of 
 the Hepburns. Thus fittingly endowed for his future lord- 
 ship in wild Liddesdale he passed to Spynie Castle, probably 
 before his father's divorce in 1543, to spend his early years 
 with his kinsman Patrick, Bishop of Moray. But the dis- 
 cipline was easy, — a round of feasting and merry tales and of 
 amours which were neither episcopal nor Platonic. Young 
 Hepburn must have succumbed to the delights of Spynie 
 had he not felt the stir of doing in his blood ; but the lessons 
 of his reverend kinsman were not and could not be forgotten. 
 There is reason to believe, from the evidence of some letters, 
 that his intellectual education had been good. Some of his 
 books, on mathematics and the art of war, have been pre- 
 served, but they prove little beyond his good taste in binding. 
 He lived too rapidly to be a student, and the exploits and 
 subtleties of his later years do not suggest the teaching of 
 Valturin or Sextus Julius. 
 
 On his father's death in 1556 he became fourth Earl of 
 Bothwell and succeeded by right to the offices of Lord High 
 Admiral of the kingdom, Sheriff of Edinburgh, Haddington, 
 and Berwick, Bailie of Lauderdale, and Keeper of the castles 
 of Hailes and Crichton, — thereby winning a position in men's 
 eyes and in actual power scarcely inferior to that of the royal 
 house of Hamilton. Earl Patrick had been reconciled to 
 Mary of Guise, the Regent, some years before his death, and 
 his son gave early proof of his loyalty to her party of French 
 
EARL BOTHWELL. 3 
 
 sympathies by signing, on December 14, 1577, the act consti- 
 tuting commissioners for the betrothal of the young Queen 
 to the Dauphin. Ere the year was out England was 
 involved in the Franco-Spanish strife, and so Scotland, with 
 a Guise for ruler, could not be idle. It was the old game of 
 checkmate on the Borders, with moss-troopers for pawns and 
 a castle or two to be taken. The Scottish nobility, hating 
 the French aliens in their midst rather than dreading broken 
 crowns, refused the Regent's bidding; but young Bothwell 
 was eager to ride with his Liddesdale vassals into England. 
 In after years he cherished the memory of his boyish zeal, 
 not only for the ' irreparable damage ' which he had done, 
 but because it was the burgeon of his lifelong hatred of 
 England and her Scottish partisans. 
 
 On the accession of Elizabeth and by the Treaty of Cateau- 
 Cambresis Scottish politics seemed to become more placid, 
 and Border troubles were settled by commissioners of both 
 nations, among them being Bothwell, now Lieutenant- 
 General of the Scots Marches, with " the haill charge 
 alsweill to defend as to assayle." But it was only a 
 cessation of wild soldiering in the borderlands, for Eliza- 
 beth, like her father, would not let pass opportunities given 
 by the dissensions in the North, now more embittered in 
 the name of religion. In her wisdom she saw more hope of 
 havoc among the wretched Scots nobility from a Sadler and 
 his gold than from a Belted Will and his rough-riders. 
 Bothwell, though professing the Reformed doctrine with such 
 earnestness as he could, kept by the Regent ; but he longed 
 for adventure in her cause, to assail rather than to defend, 
 and he had not long to wait. Having got word that the 
 Laird of Ormiston was riding from Berwick with a goodly 
 bribe for the Lords of Congregation, he swooped down on 
 him by the flank of Dunpender Law in East Lothian, and 
 carried the poor man and his money-bags to his castle at 
 Crichton by " the sluggish mazes of the Tyne." The Lords 
 liked ill this unfriendly act, for Bothwell had sent but three 
 days before for a safe-conduct, and had hinted, if not promised, 
 that he would do their schemes no harm. Thereupon Lord 
 James Stuart, afterwards Earl of Murray, and the Earl of 
 
4 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Arran hurried off with troops and artillery to Crichton, to 
 find that the young scamp had fled, and, grievous to tell, had 
 not forgotten the Dunpender booty. He laughed at their 
 summons to surrender it, and, when he heard that in revenge 
 they had played wantonly with his goodly halls, sent a cartel 
 to Arran to meet him before French and Scots. " First," re- 
 plied the angry Earl, "when ye may have won back the name 
 of an honest man, which by your last exploit you have lost, 
 I shall be ready to give you satisfaction which is meet ; but 
 not before Frenchmen, to whom you assign the precedence 
 over Scotsmen, for there is no Frenchman in this kingdom 
 with whose judgment I will have anything to do." Both- 
 well had no need of such jibes to increase his sympathy with 
 French policy. If he had to flee from Linlithgow, he 
 was willing to undertake the keeping of Stirling for the 
 Regent. When, despite the French success at Leith, matters 
 looked serious, he was chosen as an emissary to seek aid at 
 the French Court. He fretted at Crichton till his departure, 
 telling his liege-lady that he was desirous "to be at all 
 tymis in the roum quhair service occurris ", but as he lacked 
 " the commoditi thairto " and had not " hasti aspirans 
 thairof " he required her aid by "vrytings", which meant 
 money credit as well as credentials to the French Court. The 
 sweet recollection of the Ormiston pocket-money would not 
 clear the Paris bills of an ambassador. The sudden death of 
 Mary of Guise hastened his mission, and, after some uncer- 
 tain movements north of the Forth, he effected his escape in 
 the autumn of 1560, and landed in Denmark. 
 
 He journeyed to Paris in good style, part of the way under 
 the friendly escort of the Danish King; not assuredly in 
 breathless haste, for he found time to dally with one Ann 
 Throndsson, a noble Norwegian with a dowry of 40,000 dollars. 
 The lady, like her namesake of the ballad, had cause to 
 make moan at his sugared words, for he left her in the 
 Netherlands with no means of maintenance or return except 
 the credit which her jewels brought. At Paris he could not 
 effect anything for his party in Scotland, for the plot of 
 Amboise had compelled Guise's thoughts homewards ; but 
 he received a welcome pension of 600 crowns, and, from 
 
EARL B07HWELL. 5 
 
 the young Queen of Scots, the honour of a commission to 
 summon a Scottish Parliament. To Throckmorton, the 
 English ambassador, he appeared to be a "vainglorious, 
 rash, and hazardous young man," on whom " it were meet 
 for his adversaries to have an eye " and whom they must 
 "keep short,'' — an appreciation of the man which, if not 
 exhaustive, was as true as it is interesting. 
 
 Bothwell arrived in Scotland, in February, 1561, with 
 poor prospects of political stir. He may have been again 
 in France for a time ; at all events he was back in Edin- 
 burgh in that autumn when Mary, doubly widowed, returned 
 with something of a sad heart to the land of her birth. 
 Her earliest endeavour was for peace among her quarrel- 
 some councillors and nobles. Bothwell and his old friends of 
 Dunpender and Crichton were ordered to forget their rancour, 
 or, at least, the shows of it. But she had not such ability 
 to put down feuds as her son was to have in his Scotland, 
 and circumstance was not so kindly. Privy Councillor 
 Bothwell was among the first to disobey. There was some 
 trouble at the house of a ' respectable ' merchant, of the 
 stuff of which city magistrates are made, about his buxom 
 daughter-in-law Alison, who had the credit of an amour 
 with Arran. Bothwell, with his boon companion the 
 Marquis D'Albeuf and the Prior of Coldingham, had, in 
 an access of rowdiness, endeavoured to woo the young lady 
 by breaking down her guardian's doors at dead of night. 
 It was a horrid scandal, the more so as the Assembly was 
 in session. The wrath of the godly and peaceable found 
 its expression in a protest by the ' Professors of Christ's 
 Evangel.' The Hamilfons, with that love of justice which 
 attacked noble houses with the waywardness and sudden- 
 ness of some unknown distemper, saw fit to speak loudly 
 of the offence, and managed matters so to their liking that 
 a goodly riot was raised. The amorous French ambas- 
 sador, whom " scarce ten men could hold," was with 
 difficulty shut within the Abbey, and Bothwell was only 
 stayed in his hurry from his lodging by the unambiguous 
 threats of the Master of Maxwell and his following. It 
 was possible to Mary to pardon the night-doings of an uncle 
 
6 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 from Paris, but Bothwell's offence could not be overlooked. 
 So he was ordered to leave the capital, and that despite 
 some endeavour to be reconciled by the help of John Knox. 
 His peaceful intentions towards Arran and his friends were 
 but short-lived, for one day he came across the Laird of 
 Ormiston and his party a-hunting, and for a second time 
 carried off a Cockburn to Crichton. Again was appeal 
 made to Knox, and the preacher, sick of these unseemly 
 bickerings among the men of Reform, did his best to make 
 peace. The Earl went so far as to " lament his formare 
 inordinate lyef," and was induced by Knox's politic argu- 
 ment to submit his differences with Cockburn to Arran, 
 and thereafter to meet Arran himself. They met at the 
 Hamilton Lodging by the Kirk-o'-Field, were lectured by the 
 peacemaker, and then chopped hands and embraced. Next 
 morning they were still friendly enough and pious enough to 
 go together to hear a sermon. So ended the little farce at 
 the Kirk-o'-Field ; the heavy tragedy was to follow. 
 
 Unfortunately for Bothwell's peaceful mood, Arran's 
 mind became unhinged. The former had gone, shortly 
 after the reconciliation, on a visit to Lord Hamilton at 
 Kinneil, and his host's son, suddenly filled with wild 
 imaginings as to its purport, rode off in a frenzy to the 
 Court at Falkland, and told a pretty tale of treachery, of the 
 threatened abduction of the Queen, and of the despatch of 
 her hated step-brother James. When Bothwell arrived at 
 Falkland he was put in durance, for, though the Lord 
 James knew Arran to be mad, and could get little proof, if 
 any, of Bothwell's guilt, it was an opportunity of personal 
 revenge too good to lose. Bothwell was sent to St. 
 Andrews, and, after six weeks, to Edinburgh Castle. But 
 his foe had his troubles in plenty, none the fewer since 
 Huntly had been advanced to the chancellorship. It 
 required but another causey squabble to set parties by the 
 ears and to raise a rebellion in the country of the Gordons. 
 Bothwell heard from his prison window the sough of the 
 shouting and the sword-clatter of the Ogilvie and Gordon 
 retainers, and, like a chained dog, chafed at his enforced 
 absence,— the more angrily, as greater encounters would 
 
EARL BOTHWELL. 7 
 
 surely follow. He succeeded in breaking ward, not im- 
 probably by a daring descent from his window, though 
 some gossips had it that he got easy passage by the gates. 
 He fled to his Border castle of the Hermitage. If, as Knox 
 says, his common residence was in Lothian, he certainly 
 showed that he was far from panic-stricken. But to little 
 purpose, for all hope of resistance fell by the defeat and 
 death of Huntly and the imprisonment of his son. Bothwell 
 tells us in his autobiography, with a strange twist in the 
 sequence of facts, how his horror of " that cruel murder " 
 and his desire to know how he stood with the Queen 
 prompted him to leave the Castle of Edinburgh. "Being 
 free," he adds, "I resolved to go to France by sea," — a 
 laconic reference to his sorry plight before his escape in a 
 small vessel from North Berwick. 
 
 His journey 'by sea' was somewhat tedious. A storm 
 drove his little ship on the rocks of Holy Island, and the 
 runaway, despite some " shows of friendship from English- 
 men, such as he should not have expected," — so runs the 
 ingenuous story, — was soon after pulled ignominiously out 
 of bed near Berwick, and lodged in Tynemouth Castle. 
 There he remained till the triumphant Murray convinced 
 Elizabeth that such an unruly thwarter of English policy 
 should be put in safer ward. Strange fears distracted the 
 mind of the unfriendly Randolph, the English agent, when 
 he heard of this proposal. " I beseech your Grace," he 
 writes to Cecil, " send him where you will, only not to 
 Dover Castle, not so much for fear of my aged mother, but 
 my sister is young and has many daughters." The anxious 
 Englishman had perhaps just heard that poor Ann Thrond- 
 sson had turned up in Scotland to make plaint about her 
 absent lover, and had received but the courtesy of a passport 
 to her native land. Early in 1564 Mary, urged, it is said, by 
 his mother, the Lady of Morham, but perhaps by the politic 
 friendliness of Lethington, requested that he should have 
 liberty to pass whither he pleased. So Bothwell, as he 
 himself says, "continued his design of making journey to 
 France," and did it with such courteous despatch that Ran- 
 dolph relapsed into serenity about the dovecot at the ferry. 
 
8 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Bothwell was well received by the Most Christian King, 
 and, as before, enjoyed his bounty,^though there is reason 
 to doubt his marginal boast that he was made Captain, 
 of the Scottish Guard. Exile and inaction, however, were 
 truly to his quick bosom a hell : he was tired of breathing 
 hatred of his enemies across the Channel : intrigue, even in 
 Paris, unless a helpmate to ambition, was poor pleasure. 
 Thus pressed, he returned secretly tP Scotland in the spring 
 of 1565. It was a bit of dare-devilry, for Murray was 
 stronger than ever. He found his way to his Border 
 castle, and was resolved to enjoy as long as he might the 
 recreation of deiiant lordship amid his unruly retainers. 
 His arrival gave new life to the broken men of Liddesdale. 
 There was still no lack of opportunity for wild adventure, 
 for harrying and burning, nor would there be for fifty years 
 to come ; but there was now no longer any hope of pro- 
 fessional recognition by rival chancellors. The calling had 
 reached a painful state of disrepute. There was no romance 
 about the doings of Hab-o'-the-Shaws and his friends ; and 
 a rhyming sexagenarian wrote of them as " the thievis 
 of Liddisdail." On Bothwell's appearance in 1561 these 
 ruffians had taken encouragement, and had defied a Warden's 
 endeavour to get redress at the Hermitage ; on his arrest 
 in 1563 the Borders were threatened with their revenge ; 
 but now, with their high-born desperado in their midst, 
 the good old times seemed to return. He irritated more 
 than Murray, for the number of the vassals which he kept 
 about him was large, and, as he was ever impecunious, he 
 must reward them at the expense of honest folks. Randolph, 
 in bitterness of Spirit, foresaw great disorders' from this 
 mischief-maker, and the English Warden, Lord Bedford, 
 though well accompanied, was afraid to move about " be- 
 cause Bothwell was with such a rout of thieves and lawless 
 people so near." Murray could not afford to be unheedful, 
 and importuned the Queen for his overthrow; but Mary 
 told him that she could not hate one who had done her 
 service. In the end Murray succeeded in obtaining a 
 summons for his appearance on the old charges of con- 
 spiracy at Kinneil and breaking of ward. This, it appears. 
 
EARL BOTH WELL. 9 
 
 was done by Mary's advice, though there were suspicions 
 in the minds of some that she favoured his misrule as an 
 antidote to the hateful ascendancy of her step-brother. 
 Bothwell promised to appear, but, when the day came, 
 and with it rumours of the arrival of Murray and Argyll 
 with a large retinue, he pondered on his prospects before 
 this armed assize, and, pondering, sent the Laird of Riccar- 
 ton to protest his innocence. His absence was, after the 
 manner of the law-courts, construed as proof of guilt ; but 
 nothing further was done, Mary herself forbidding the 
 sentence of outlawry which his rivals had demanded. 
 Meanwhile Bothwell had again found his way to North 
 Berwick, and was on the high seas towards France when 
 the Court was sitting. Once more to fret in exile; but 
 opportunity was at hand. 
 
 The story of Mary's correspondence with Elizabeth, and 
 of her resolve to marry Darnley ; the consummation of her 
 desire ; the trouble which ensued from Knox and his friends 
 on the score of religion, and from Murray because of 
 thwarted ambition ; Mary's energetic suppression of the 
 rising, — these are matters of common knowledge. Her posi- 
 tion had, however, to be strengthened and secured, and she 
 was astute enough to recall the man who had already done 
 her service, and who would thwart her kinsman with all 
 the thoroughness of unexpected power and personal hatred. 
 Her husband was a pretty thing, but Bothwell was better 
 when storms had to be stilled, or stirred. Elizabeth felt 
 this when she wrote to Cecil: " Yt is wyshed if theie 
 (Bothwell and Seton) do arryve in Englande that theie 
 myghte be putt in good suerty for a tyme to passe their 
 tyme then" But Bothwell had no mind for another holiday 
 in England, as Captain Wilson, Elizabeth's agent, found 
 to his chagrin at Flushing. This worthy had done his 
 best to intercept him, but, by a daring dash under sail and 
 oars, Bothwell's two small vessels escaped the shots of the 
 English craft, and sped without further impediment till 
 they reached, on September 17, 1565, the Scottish coast 
 at Eyemouth. His breaking of ward was forgiven, his 
 honours restored, and he was off with Mary to the South 
 
lo TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 in the wake of the fugitive Murray. " I was ordered," he 
 says, "to pursue the said Earl of Murray out of the 
 kingdom of Scotland into England ; which I did." Quickly 
 done, and briefly told. Fortune's wheel had gone round. 
 Murray was in exile, and the lawless Lord of Liddesdale, 
 now Warden of the Marches, watched the highways and 
 fords with the Queen's horse and foot. 
 
 II. 
 
 During the lull which followed on his acquisition of power, 
 Bothwell, now in his thirtieth year, found time to marry. It 
 was not the commonplace ' settling down ' of the tired 
 reveller. He had, like all first-water villains, his fits of 
 horror at his past " inordinat lyf ", but he was too restless 
 and had too much on hand to uphold the doctrine of orthodox 
 sobriety. His marriage with Jean Gordon, sister of his 
 party-friend, the Earl of Huntly, Was primarily to strengthen 
 his political position. The union was by the express counsel 
 of the Queen ; and Huntly was a good ally to keep. As 
 yet there is no evidence whatever that he was meditating 
 a more ambitious move, and no proof that it was suggested 
 to him. He still humoured the Reformers by refusing, 
 contrary to the Queen's wish, to be married during mass ; but 
 whether he posed as Protestant by conviction, or by policy, 
 or by obstructive indifference, it would indeed be hard to say. 
 
 The marriage took place in the Abbey Kirk of Holyrood 
 on February 24, 1565-6, and the royal household honoured 
 the occasion by holding high festivity for several days. 
 
 "Lord Love went Maying, 
 Where Time was playing, 
 In light hands weighing 
 Light hearts with sad." 
 
 Light hearts mostly then ; but in little less than a week 
 confusion and horror, and a miserable Italian foully done to 
 death. It was an ominous day for Bothwell, the early shadow 
 of his darker future, and at a time when his heart was freest 
 
EARL BOTH WELL. n 
 
 from guile. Darnley's insane fit of jealousy, his Judas kiss, 
 and then Ruthven's cold steel aroused, perhaps completed, 
 that Queen's hatred from which sprang the darker evil 
 of our tale. 
 
 "You have taught me worthier wisdom than words ; 
 And I will lay it up against my heart." 
 
 Bothwell's first impulse in that bloody hour was to arms 
 
 and to his Queen, but the sight of superior numbers and 
 
 the threats of Morton cooled his ardour. He resolved on 
 
 immediate flight, and with one or two companions escaped 
 
 with diificulty by a back window. He did not rest till 
 
 he found shelter in his castle at Crichton. " Had we not 
 
 escaped," he moralises, " we should not have been better 
 
 treated than Riccio." Now that he had a free hand, his 
 
 chief thought was to deliver her Majesty from her rough 
 
 keepers, and to this end he schemed with Huntly. They 
 
 were prepared to try the hazard of ropes over the palace 
 
 walls, but Darnley's flighty spirit and lack of nerve made 
 
 such endeavour unnecessary. After interviews with the 
 
 rebel lords, including Murray who had well timed his return 
 
 from exile, the wretched pair left Holyrood about midnight, 
 
 with poor accompaniment, and arrived in the early morning, 
 
 after a stiff canter, at the Castle of Dunbar. Safety brought 
 
 revived spirits, and the call to arms went forth. The first to 
 
 arrive was Bothwell at the head of a goodly troop of vassals. 
 
 Mary had ever found Bothwell loyal, even in her greatest 
 
 straits. She had liked him for his dash and spirit. What 
 
 wonder that she came to like him more, under the constant 
 
 fret of a worthless consort growing daily more petulant and 
 
 unsympathetic ! 
 
 "How fairer is this warrior face, and eyes 
 With the iron light of battle in them left 
 As the after-fire of sunset left in heaven 
 When the sun sinks, than any fool's face made 
 Of smiles and courtly colour." 
 
 And what wonder, too, that Bothwell, though loyal, yet 
 
12 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 ambitious, cunning, and daring, would seek to better the 
 opportunities which might turn liking into loving! From 
 the hour of Mary's triumphant return to her capital his 
 influence grew. In worldly wealth he had his reward, — the 
 rich benefices of Melrose, Haddington, and Newbattle, a 
 goodly slice of the patrimony of the Earl of March, but, 
 chief of all, the Castle of Dunbar, so comfortably near his 
 own Lothian towers. The torment of an empty purse was 
 at last removed. He boasts not a little of the favour and 
 access which he enjoyed at Court, and tells with conscious 
 pride that he determined to live peaceably with his neigh- 
 bours, and notto think of "vengeance or quarrel" on account 
 of the imprisonment and exile which he had endured. He 
 was wise enough to assume the manner of the dove, and to , 
 help Knox to put to rights the untoward confusion which 
 had begun to vex the party of Reform ; so amiable indeed 
 as to befriend the Laird of Ormiston. Small punishment 
 was eked out by Mary ; and even Murray was pardoned. 
 After a month's easy exile in Argyll, the hated step-brother 
 banquetted in the castle with the Queen and Bothwell and 
 Huntly. Nothing embarrasses and weakens opponents so 
 much as the show of unexpected lenity. There were cour- 
 tesies to spare, even for them, so long as Darnley played 
 the fool. 
 
 In the autumn of 1566 Bothwell retired from Edinburgh 
 to his wardenry in the South, to lay by the heels some of 
 his erst friends of Liddesdale for Mary's coming justice-eyre 
 at Jedburgh. During one of his sallies from the Hermitage 
 he strayed from his men and fell in the way of the renowned 
 freebooter John-o'-the-Park. Bothwell, with that severe 
 official manner which was proper, refused a private under- 
 standing; which not pleasing outlaw Elliot, there resulted 
 a vigorous give-and-take with pistol, sword, and dagger. 
 Law had a narrow triumph. John dragged himself off to 
 an early death on a knoll near by; Bothwell, perilously 
 wounded, lay till his men came up. He was carried to 
 his castle gate, but entrance was refused by some unruly 
 prisoners, who had made themselves masters, till the Warden 
 had promised to make suit for their lives. On the eighth 
 
EARL BOTHWELL. 13 
 
 day of his sickness, when his wounds were healing, he was 
 visited by Mary. She had ridden all the way from Jedburgh, 
 a good twenty miles and a rough road. Folks talked much 
 of this tender courtesy. Was it regard for the serviceable 
 Warden, or the pleasing young man ? She had ridden hard, — 
 the morrow's fever told how hard : was it to escape the 
 roving moss-troopers, or to hurry to " give him comfort," 
 to talk of the hanging of Armstrongs and Elliots, or to 
 know how it really fared with her friend ? Answer it as we 
 may, and infer from it as little as we can, it remains a 
 pretty episode. Of its effect on Bothwell we need not 
 have a doubt. Ambition, ever willing to be prompted, 
 would readily build a future on past success. If the 
 " mass of writings " which came from Jedburgh were 
 but political confidences or assize-reports, he could at 
 least read between the lines. He had opportunity, ere 
 long, at his castle of Dunbar, to test the truth of his in- 
 terpretation. 
 
 At Craigmillar we hear the first whisperings of wishes and 
 schemes. Mary appeared to Du Croc to be ill at ease. " I 
 do assure you," he wrote, " she is not at all well ; and I do 
 believe the principal part of her disease to consist of a deep 
 grief and sorrow; nor does it seem possible to make her 
 forget the same. Still she repeats these words, ' I could 
 wish to be dead.' We know very well that the injury she 
 received is exceeding great, and her Majesty will never 
 forget it." Lethington guided the counsels of the fretful 
 lords about her, and in the end spoke for them to her about 
 her consort. He did not hesitate to suggest divorce. Mary 
 flinched, lest thereby her infant's future might be imperilled ; 
 but Bothwell, pleased for once with the drift of the Chame- 
 leon's argument, joined in with the pretty story how he, the 
 son of divorced parents, had not lost his heritage nor his 
 sovereign's favour. They reasoned on, and Lethington 
 waxed bolder ; his friends would " find the means ", and 
 Murray would " look through his fingers " at their doings. 
 " Madam," by way of peroration, " let us guide the 
 matter amongst us, and your Grace shall see nothing 
 but good, and approved by Parliament." If as yet it was 
 
14 TWEL VE BAD MEN. 
 
 but of divorce that they had thought, in a few days they 
 had made up their minds that the " young fool " should be 
 " put off by one way or another," and more, that " who- 
 soever suld tak the deid in hand, or do it, they suld defend 
 and fortify it as themselves." Thereafter Bothwell had 
 communication with the exiled lords. On Christmas Eve 
 Mary yielded to the importunities, first urged at Craigmillar, 
 and bade them return. In three weeks' time Bothwell, after 
 a brief visit to the South for some practice of authority 
 among the brawling Borderers, met the returned Morton at 
 Whittinghame, and urged prompt action. His mysterious 
 statement that the Queen " would have it to be done " was 
 perhaps begotten of his own eagerness ; at any rate, Morton 
 would not be joint conspirator till he had written proof. 
 Preparations went on, and Bothwell a second time (February 
 7th) sought Morton's aid. Again a cautious refusal. Both- 
 well had resolved " to tak the deid in hand." For the rest, 
 his laconic " which I did " is the epitome ; but how he 
 did it he. left history to say. 
 
 In the evening of the last day of January, 1567, Darnley 
 and Mary were met by Bothwell beyond the western gates 
 of the capital. The Queen had gone to Crookston, near 
 Glasgow, to visit her husband in his convalescence, — a 
 show of reconciliation which caused wonder to many who 
 had heard of his conduct at Stirling. The sick man was 
 not taken to Holyrood, " through fear," says our auto- 
 biographer, " of endangering the health of Queen and 
 infant." There was a subtle inconsistency in sending him, 
 on the plea of infection, to the house near the Kirk-o'-Field, 
 and fitting up a bed for the Queen in an adjoining room, as . 
 there was in putting him, on the plea of "helsumnes of air", 
 in a botched-up ruin in a slum of beggars' cottages and 
 rank-grown graves. The separation, which was neces- 
 sary to Mary alone, might have been easily obtained in the 
 palace, but the house at Kirk-o'-Field could be better spared 
 for the practice of Bothwell's dark magic. From Holyrood 
 came silk cushions and tapestries which had been plundered 
 at Corrichie ; the sick-bed was hung with violet velvet 
 and covered with blue taffeta, — kindly courtesies, like our 
 
EARL BOTH WELL. 15 
 
 favours and gift of blessings on the mornings of our acts of 
 justice. 
 
 For ten days life at Holyrood held on in its wonted gaiety, 
 with no serious suspicions of the dark councils in Bothwell's 
 chamber. On Sunday, February gth, the household were to 
 be specially merry over the marriage of one Pagez, a popular 
 master of ceremonies. The Queen's promise to grace the 
 masked ball in the evening was not unwelcome news to the 
 conspirators, and probably hastened their decision. Both- 
 well hied from a conference with his minions to join the 
 Queen at a farewell banquet in the town in honour of the 
 ambassador of Savoy. At the parting of the guests he 
 slipped out and rejoined them in the neighbourhood of 
 Darnley's lodging. As there was time to spare before the 
 masquerade, Mary with a few nobles followed thither to 
 visit the sick-chamber, — a favour surely the prettiest or the 
 most fiendish which Scottish history has recorded. 
 
 At nine they entered, passed upstairs by the chamber where 
 Mary had slept on previous nights, and entered Darnley's 
 room. There was some semblance of early courtship in the 
 meeting, — kisses and the gift of a ring. The noble attendants 
 sat aloof, eager at dice. Bothwell could not yet join his 
 charitable mistress. About ten o'clock two horse-loads of 
 Dunbar powder had been brought round outside the city 
 walls to the postern of the dwelling, and the sacks had been 
 placed in a large barrel to save time and labour in carrying 
 them within. But the doorway was too narrow, and Hay of 
 Talla, John Hepburn, and the Ormistons had to scurry to and 
 fro with their little loads till all was deposited in the Queen's 
 room, Bothwell the while bidding them hasten in their work. 
 This done. Hay and Hepburn were locked in to put the 
 train in order, and the Earl mounted the stair. At eleven 
 came the farewells, and royalty descended, tripping by the 
 closed door unheeding, and, with torch-bearers before, passed 
 through the quiet wynds to Monsieur Pagez's merry-making. 
 Bothwell joined in the fun, the better to mask suspicion 
 when questions came to be asked ; but at twelve he retired 
 privily to his chamber. Off went his velvet and silver 
 finery, on plain hat and doublet and a long black cloak. 
 
i6 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 What else but a first-fflurderer this dark figure wandering 
 forth in the blackness of a winter midnight : who could rriis- 
 take it, whether it paced the streets of old Edinburgh or the 
 boards of Drury ? The second and third murderers hurried 
 on behind. The palace sentinels stopped them, but the 
 words " My Lord Bothwell's friends " gave them passage 
 towards the town. The Canongate Port was shut, but the 
 same phrase pulled John Galloway out of bed and opened 
 the gates. When they had reached the garden wall of 
 Darnley's lodging, Bothwell, though his hand was still weak 
 from a sword-cut from John-o'-the-Park, climbed over with 
 Mary's servitor Hubert. In half-an-hour they returned 
 with the two men who had been arranging the train and 
 had fired it. The powder was slow of action, and Bothwell, 
 grown impatient and " angry ", would have returned to the 
 house to see " if the lint were burning enough ", had not his 
 kinsman restrained him with a confident " Ye need not." 
 And just in time, for 
 
 " Came the wind and thunder of the blast 
 That blew the fool forth who took wing for death." 
 
 The murderers' first impulse was to climb the city wall, but 
 its height baffled Bothwell's wrist and Hubert's quaking 
 knees. So back to the Canongate Port. The pass-word 
 given, " What crash was that ? " asked John Galloway. 
 " We know not ", they said, and hurried on to the palace. 
 Bothwell quaffed off some wine, and then to bed, to be 
 rouseid in half an hour from his feigned slumber by a 
 messenger black with fright and scarce able to speak. 
 "What is the matter, man?" quoth the anxious bed- 
 clothes ; and thereafter " Fie, treason ! " He rose, donned 
 his velvet and silver, and went straightway to the chamber 
 of the Queen. Later he met Sir James Melvil, and told him 
 it was " the strangest accident that ever chancit," for " the 
 powder come out of the luft (sky) and had burnt the King's 
 house." But in the true story of his life he speaks of the 
 putting of powder beneath the bed and of the setting of it on 
 fire by some foul traitors rather than by a reckless Heaven. He 
 
EARL BOTHWELL. 17 
 
 does not tell us that his accomplices that morning received 
 gifts and promises of lasting favour should they hold their 
 tongues. He revisited the scene in style becoming the 
 Sheriff of Edinburgh, with a troop of men-at-arms to 
 search for the traitors, and gave orders for the removal 
 of the body from the garden, where it had been found un- 
 dressed and unharmed, — which distant position, nakedness, 
 and lack of scars and burns caused shaking of heads, 
 and a suspicion of that half-hour when he was within the 
 garden wall. The Queen's surgeons said nay to the sugges- 
 tion that Darnley had been strangled, and the murderer's 
 accomplices in their most earnest moments of confession 
 denied the charge. Bothwell may stand free of this impu- 
 tation, though the proneness of the popular mind to think 
 nothing too horrible for the villain is a fact of some interest. 
 We must not be distracted by the nice questions which 
 have arisen from Mary's subsequent conduct and utterances, 
 both weighty and trivial, — whether it was chance or God 
 " that put it in her head " to pass the powder room, or 
 neither ; whether she had no knowledge or suspicion of the 
 traitor for whose arrest she had offered a large reward. Her 
 guilt, her indifference, or her innocence can neither diminish 
 the tragic interest of the story nor yet mar Bothwell's 
 villainy by extenuation. Mistrust of Bothwell grew faster 
 than doubt of the Queen. Placards were posted on the 
 church doors and at the street corners, showing his portrait 
 in rough with the superscription, " Here is the murtherer of 
 the King." As yet Bothwell paid little heed. Though 
 charged to guard the young Prince at Holyrood, he would 
 ride out to Seton for an afternoon with the Queen at the 
 butts. But when dark hints were made about her Majesty 
 and the market-women began to cry out against her, and 
 when the victim's father made complaint against Bothwell 
 and others and demanded their trial, something had to 
 be done. " I begged the Queen and Council," his good 
 conscience writes, "to allow my being called to justice." 
 Lennox and his friends were requested by Mary to appear 
 and make the indictment. Bothwell had not forgotten 
 the lesson that armed retainers were the best advocates. 
 
i8 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 He had been ordered to have no more than six of a body- 
 guard ; he obeyed by presenting himself for trial with 
 nigh four thousand at his heels. Lennox, like Bothwell 
 himself in days gone by, saw the hopelessness of his cause 
 at such an assize and endeavoured to have the trial post- 
 poned. Queen Elizabeth sent a letter to Mary in his behalf, 
 but Lethington stayed its delivery. The legal farce was 
 acted over again ; there was no pursuer, as there had been 
 no defender ; the luckless fifteen thanked their stars, and 
 readily gave " Not guilty." Four thousand men might have 
 given Bothwell a cheery countenance in court, but Laird 
 Ormiston noted his pallor and concern. " Fye, my lord, 
 what devill is this ye ar doand ? Your face schawls what 
 ye ar : bald up your face, for Godis sake, and luik blythlie. 
 Ye might luike swa and ye wer gangand to the deid. 
 Allace, and wo worth them that evir devysit it. I trow it 
 sail garr us all murne." " Had your tongue," said Both- 
 well, " I wald not yet it wer to doe. I have an outgait fra 
 it, cum as it may, and that ye will knaw belyve." It was 
 remarked that on many occasions when he spoke with men 
 his hand was on his dagger. The miscarriage of the popu- 
 larity which he had expected from the Protestant lords had 
 darkened the issue of his plot, but had made him almost 
 nervously alert. Legal formalities over, he proclaimed by 
 placards on the places where his dishonour had been written 
 his challenge to all, gentle or simple, rich or poor, who dared 
 to call him traitor. Two days later (April 14th) Parliament 
 met, and in willing spirit confirmed the act of court and his 
 titles and possessions and added the gift of lands round his 
 castle of Dunbar. By his influence Huntly was restored to 
 his forfeited estates. A safe Dunbar and a grateful Huntly 
 would mean something in a few weeks. 
 
 in. 
 
 After the meeting of Parliament Bothwell was not so 
 reticent about his matrimonial schemes, nor so careful in 
 suppressing the pleasing rumours. As early as the 30th 
 
EARL BOTHWELL. 19 
 
 of March the Englishman Drury had drawn attention to 
 the unusually steady pointing of the Palace weathercock. 
 It had veered so much of late, and the times were so 
 gusty, that men had grown tired of straining their necks. 
 On the very night when the Estates had dissolved we have 
 the first authoritative evidence of Bothwell's intentions. 
 " After I had won my case," he proceeds, " there came 
 to my lodging eight-and-twenty of the Parliament, of their 
 own free-will, without my asking, and did me the honour 
 of offering me their assistance and friendship." This 
 meeting at Ainslie's Tavern was, says a sometimes face- 
 tious historian, like a present-day State dinner, — but with 
 this minor difference, that hagbutters more bland of mien 
 and rosier of hue take charge of the free-will of the guests. 
 Bothwell thought the supper passed off well, — thanks, 
 doubtless, to the presence of his men-at-arms. Here is his 
 pleasant account of the toast of the evening. " First, they 
 acknowledged that I had done my duty in defending my 
 honour in all things of which I had been accused, and for 
 that reason would give their lives, goods, kin, friends, and 
 all whom they could control to support me against all who 
 would, in whatever manner, pursue me for the foresaid 
 crime. Moreover, each one heartily thanked me that I had 
 borne myself so friendly towards them. (Cheers for the 
 hagbutters.) They said that they saw that the Queen was 
 a widow and might have children ; that she had yet but one 
 young Prince; that they did not wish her to marry a 
 stranger; and that it seemed to them I was the worthiest 
 in the realm. (Cheers for' the Lord High Admiral.) To 
 this end they had resolved to do what they could till the 
 marriage was accomplished, and to oppose all who should 
 put obstacles in the way. At the same time they consulted 
 how I might legitimately repudiate my princess, according 
 to the laws of God and the Church and the custom of the 
 country." Bothwell's words are a not unfair summary of 
 the bond which the wretched twenty-seven, — Eglintoun had 
 slipped out, — had to subscribe. To clinch the matter, he 
 produced a false writing from the Queen testifying her wish 
 for such a desirable match. This was a half lie, the con- 
 
30 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 fusion by the confident villain of the early future with 
 the present. He could not, however, have ventured on 
 this wile had there not been already some hint of acquies- 
 cence on the part of Mary. Even if the liaison, which 
 some papers have hinted, were a libel, Bothwell had reason 
 to be confident in his power to bully ; if it were a fact, 
 it proved a subservience, which to a blusterer was but an 
 incentive to seek the glory which would come with legal 
 recognition. 
 
 On 2ist April Mary rode to Stirling to see her infant son, 
 who had been removed thither for security. Bothwell, on 
 the pretext of Wardenry duties, gathered together a large 
 troop of spearmen and marched southwards, but after a 
 short ride he thought better of his Borderers' insolence, 
 wheeled to the right, and advanced towards the highway 
 between the capital and Linlithgow. Mary's visit to Stirling 
 had been brief, for she is found at Linlithgow on the 34th. 
 Next day her company was overtaken by Bothwell at the 
 Foul-brigs (fitting place !) at the river Almond. The Earl 
 had some story of dangers which threatened her Majesty, 
 and how he had come to take her to a place of safety. Her 
 retinue was dismissed, but Huntly, Lethington, and Melvil 
 were compelled to gallop with their mistress and her keeper 
 to his castle of Dunbar. Some wise-heads afterwards said 
 that Mary had made the tryst by the Almond, and that she 
 was not honestly frightened or indignant when Bothwell laid 
 hand on her bridle. 
 
 Bothwell's mood was not what it had been at Mary's last 
 visit to his fortress. He astonished poor Melvil with loud 
 boasts " that he would marry the Queen, who would or who 
 would not, yea, whether she would herself or not." Mary 
 was certainly at a disadvantage. Later she admitted as 
 much in her instructions to the Bishop of Dunblane when 
 he set off for Paris to explain how she had come to 
 give her hand to Bothwell. The letter is a poor piece of 
 excuse-making, suggestive, after the manner of such 
 epistles, of wilful misconstruction and deceit ; but, though 
 it may prompt us to doubt her motives, it may be ac- 
 cepted sa a fair exposition of Bothwell's aggressive con- 
 
EARL BOTH WELL. 21 
 
 duct since the death of her husband. The "visage" which 
 she gave him may have been " ane ordinarie countenance " 
 for a nobleman who had done loyal service, or it may have 
 been something else ; but of the interpretation of the royal 
 favour which would suggest itself to Bothwell there is no 
 room for doubt. He began his wooing with gentle words, 
 and asked pardon for his frowardness, explaining it by love 
 for her and fear for his own life ; " and thair began," writes 
 Mary, " to mak ws a discours of his haill lyff, how unfortunate 
 he had bene to find men his unfreindis quhome he had never 
 offendit ; how thair malice had nevir ceasit to assault him 
 at all occasionis, albeit onjustlie; quhat calumpnyis had thai 
 spred upoun him twiching the odious violence perpetrated 
 on the persoun of the King oure lait husband ; how unabill 
 he was to safe himself from conspiraceis of his innemeis, 
 quhome he might not knaw, be ressoun everie man professed 
 him outwartlie to be his friend ; and yit he had sic malice, 
 that he could not find himself in suirtie, without he wer 
 assurit of oure favour to indure without alteratioun ; and 
 other assurance thairof could he not lippin in (trust), without 
 it wald pleis ws to do him that honour to tak him to husband ; 
 protesting alwayis that he wald seik na uther soveraintie 
 hot as of befoir, to serve and obey ws all dayis of oure lyff; 
 joyning thairunto all the honest language that could be usit 
 in sic a cais." There can be no fiction here. It calls to 
 -mind the meeting at Ainslie's Tavern, the poor soul's 
 craving for friendly support. But the arguments now, as 
 then, had to be supported by threats ; he must rely again 
 upon his hagbutters. " In the end he schowed ws how far- 
 he was procedit with our haill nobilitie and principallis of 
 oure Estaittis, and quhat thai had promeist him undir thair 
 handwrittis. . . . And yit gaif he ws lytill space to meditate 
 with oure self, evir pressing ws with continewall and impor- 
 tune sute." Then, when by pointed reference to state diffi- 
 culties he had " brocht ws agaitward to his intent", he " partlie 
 extorted and partlie obtenit our promeis to tak him to our 
 husband." To press for an immediate marriage was an easy 
 bit of dragooning, and so " as be a bravade in the begyinning 
 he had win the fyrst point, sa ceased he nevir till be per- 
 
22 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 suasionis and importune sute, accumpaneit notheles with 
 force, he hes finalie drevin ws to end the work begun at sic 
 tyme and in sic forme as he thocht mycht best serve his 
 turne." It does Bothwell no small credit as a professional 
 hector to have overmatched the spirit which had led troops 
 towards Corrichie and had faced the murderers of Riccio. 
 Must not the perplexed analyst suggest that that spirit may 
 have been broken since then, and, further, ask, was it by 
 political worry or by passion ? 
 
 Bothwell had one little piece of business to attend to 
 before the banns could be published. Jean Gordon was still 
 his wife. It required some manoeuvring to get this respect- 
 able lady out of the way ; but she was good enough to set up 
 no obstacles. Her collusion may have been the result of 
 ennui, or of the hopelessness of thwarting him ; perhaps, 
 rather, of the expressed desire of her brother Huntly. A 
 double process was instituted, so that the Queen's marriage 
 might not be troubled in future with the quibbles of Protes- 
 tant or Catholic divines. In the Reformed Commissary 
 Court the wife made complaint of some early infidelity, 
 and obtained a verdict against her spouse. The husband, 
 on the other hand, pled in the Catholic Consistorial Court 
 the old plea of forbidden degrees, and, as no papal dispensa- 
 tion, the dearest care of fathers-in-law in doubtful cases, 
 was forthcoming, likewise obtained decree against their 
 continued union. So exit Jean, to appear later on in 
 the minor parts of Countess of Sutherland and Lady of 
 Boyne. This " vertuous and comelie lady " lived on till 
 1629, with the added reputation of having "great under- 
 standing above the capacite of her sex " : which appears 
 to have been true, now that we have found out that she took 
 the dispensation for her marriage with Bothwell with her to 
 Dunrobin and buried it in the charter-room there. Another 
 Jean might not have been able to keep the precious paper in 
 her pocket. Disclosure, however, would have availed little 
 for the Catholic divines would have remembered that the 
 mass had been omitted at the ceremony. The divorce was 
 not a serious affair. " Ma femme repudi^e," writes the Earl 
 in his marginal, and only, note of the proceedings. 
 
EARL BOTHWELL. 23 
 
 On the 3rd of May the Queen and Bothwell journeyed to 
 Edinburgh. They marched in by the West Port, a seeming 
 peaceful company, with spears hid, and Bothwell, like a good 
 courtier, leading the Queen's jennet. They stayed for a few 
 days in the Castle, and ordered publication of the bannsy 
 which caused no small grumbling by Master John Craig, 
 minister of St. Giles. On the lath they passed down to the 
 palace of Holyrood, the Queen dropping by the way a word 
 of commendation of Bothwell to the judges in the Court of 
 Session. In the evening, as fitting preparation for the 
 morrow, she made her lover Duke of Orkney and Shetland, 
 and knighted a few, including the Laird of Ormiston. The 
 marriage was celebrated the next day by the Bishop of 
 Orkney according to tlie Reformed rites, just as Bothwell 
 had ordered at his previous wedding. The ceremony was 
 not brilliant, neither in the personnel nor in heartiness ; the 
 sullen dislike of the streets seemed to have infected the 
 palace. Not so Bothwell. He had reached the goal of his 
 ambition. Thrice had a Hepburn aspired to the hand of a 
 widowed Queen of Scots j his father had had promise ; he 
 alone had put on the ring. He was in right good humour. 
 He would pledge healths and chaff Sir James Melvil, not 
 forgetting to hint how well he was going to play the ruler. 
 But, as the evening grew,, and wine untrussed his kingly 
 points, he " fell in discourse of gentlewemen, using sic filthy 
 language " that even Sir James had to retire, — a good omen 
 for Mary's May marriage, and not less auspicious than his 
 early fits of temper and jealousy ! 
 
 Bothwell was resolved to make good his jolly boast about 
 his fitness for princely duties. His letters to potentates 
 were courteous enough, but were not lacking in kingly pride. 
 Elizabeth was honoured with one in his best style. He 
 said he knew she did not like him, but made bold to tell her 
 that her ill-will was unjust. Men of nobler birth might have 
 secured his place, but to none would he yield in the desire to 
 preserve her friendship. This swagger did not, however, 
 last long, for Bothwell had to reckon with discontent at 
 home. The hatred of the nobles had grown at his undue 
 elevation and his insolent bearing, and in the fear of 
 
24 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 French ascendency and all that that would mean. They 
 were willing, too, to magnify Mary's unhappiness, and to 
 pose as guardians of the young Prince's interests. Bothwell's 
 liking for hagbutters and military levies for baiting his Bor- 
 derers gave them excuse for action. Mary and he had set 
 out for the Marches on the 7th of June, and were resting at 
 Borthwick on the loth, when news came that Morton was 
 approaching the castle with twelve hundred horse. It was 
 useless to offer resistance with their small force, and Both- 
 well therefore fled to Haddington. Mary was free to escape 
 from the thraldom in which the lords said she was pining. 
 She took her liberty by riding, about midnight, dressed as a 
 page, to the keep of Cakemuir, where Bothwell was in waiting. 
 On the morning of the nth, ere the summer sun was up, 
 they arrived once more at the castle of Dunbar. Morton 
 and his friends had meanwhile returned to Edinburgh, and, 
 having made easy entrance, issued their pithy manifesto for 
 the doing of justice and the purging of the realm " of the 
 infamy and slander wherewith it yet remained bruited among 
 all nations." On the 14th the Court moved from Dunbar 
 towards Edinburgh with a poor following of two hundred 
 hagbutters, sixty horse, and a culverin or two, hoping to 
 gather strength as it straggled through Bothwell's domains. 
 That night the confederates got word of the advance, and 
 set out in better circumstance to meet the Queen. Bothwell, 
 after a night halt at Seton, took up his position on Carberry 
 Hill among the old trenches which had done service for the 
 English twenty years before. The Lords made menace from 
 the lower ground beyond a small stream which skirted the 
 hill. It was a battle of threats and parleys. First came 
 Du Croc, the French Ambassador, after serious but bootless 
 argument with the Lords, bearing a message from them that, 
 if her Majesty would leave the cative in whose power she 
 was, they would show their loyalty on their knees ; other- 
 wise Bothwell must answer for his crimes by single combat 
 •in sight of the levies. Mary told him she took ill their rebel 
 acts against the man whom they had given her in marriage : 
 if they asked forgiveness, she, too, would forgive. Where- 
 upon my lord, who had just joined the Queen, demanded 
 
EARL BOTHWELL. 35 
 
 ■" in a loud voice", that his lines might hear and be nerved 
 by his defiance, whether it was with him that they wished 
 to pick a quarrel, and, if so, for what offence. He had no 
 other desire than to be friendly with all ; they were envious 
 of his honours. He would meet his peer in single combat, 
 if only to save the Queen from her miserable plight and her 
 lieges from a bloody field. Mary, however, intervened, and 
 forbade Du Croc to take the message of her dear Bayard. 
 Meanwhile there had been a movement of some of the 
 confederate forces over the stream, and Bothwell, in the 
 afterglow of his grandiloquence, asked him to stay on the 
 hill, as did Scipio of old, to see the goodly scrimmage. But 
 Du Croc very properly said that it was too painful a sight for 
 ambassadorial countenance, and departed, leaving the Queen 
 in tears. As his story did not pacify the Lords, he continued 
 his journey to Edinburgh in sadness. No battle ensued. 
 After the change of position there was a parley between the 
 lines, and single combat was again proposed, this time by 
 Bothwell's own captains. First, young James Murray offered 
 to fight ; but the man who had stuck up libellous placards 
 against him was too unworthy. Then his brother TuUibar- 
 dine ; but his rank was little better. Bothwell would have 
 Morton take his glove, but the Lords thought they could 
 better spare Lord Lindsay, who was eager to fight with the 
 braggart as a reward for past services, and especially for 
 helping the despatch of Signer Riccio. These wordy delays 
 raised suspicion in the minds of the Lords that the Queen's 
 party were playing with them till reinforcements came from 
 the Hamiltons, and they accordingly made a flank movement 
 under Kirkaldy of Grange, to make sure of Bothwell should 
 he wish to flee. This action had its effect on the Queen's 
 band. In the late afternoon it had so dwindled away that 
 Mary saw no hope in resistance. She summoned Kirkaldy, 
 heard his plain tale how she must leave her husband if 
 she would remain their honoured sovereign, and, restraining 
 Bothwell's hagbutter, who had been bidden to fire, ac- 
 cepted the inevitable. As the laird rode down to his friends, 
 Bothwell entreated her — these are his words — " to retire to 
 Dunbar and to leave us to fight her just quarrel, according 
 
26 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 to our desire to honour and serve her and for the regard 
 which we had to the public good and the peace of our 
 country." He found it "impossible to move her from her 
 purpose, or to make her hear any remonstrance" — her, who 
 would have gone with him to the world's end in a white 
 petticoat, and had ridden to him at midnight in a page's 
 dress. He had better go to Dunbar alone this time, and as 
 fast as he might. Doubtless there was some emotion at the 
 parting with her dear ruffian : the Captain of Inchkeith said 
 she looked sorely grieved. When Kirkaldy returned she kept 
 him in conversation till the Duke was well on his way, and 
 then delivered herself up. So they parted, and for even 
 Three days later the runaway sent for a small box which he 
 had left in Edinburgh Castle, but the messenger was waylaid, 
 and the silver casket was sent to my Lord Morton. Had 
 George Dalgleish had better luck there had been a difference 
 in the making of history and the books thereon. In their 
 parting they had sought each other's safety ; they had but 
 vowed an eternal misery. 
 
 Bothwell was safe enough in his sea-fortress ; all the 
 heralds' trumpets in the market-place could not have blown 
 down his walls had he chosen to stay. But there was little 
 good to be had from defiant inaction ; and there was hope 
 that the Hamiltons and other friends might be stirred in his 
 cause, and in that of his wife, now completely at the mercy 
 of the Lords of Congregation. So, on the ayth of June, 
 within sight of the spot whence he had twice taken secret 
 passage to France, he set sail with two ships for the North. 
 He found his way to the seat of the Earl of Huntly and 
 endeavoured to raise the men of Strathbogie. Failing in 
 this, he departed hurriedly for the familiar rooftree at 
 Spynie, and found shelter and solace with his merry 
 kinsman. An English prisoner at the castle devised a 
 plan for taking or killing the bishop's guest, but it came. to 
 naught, for Lethington thought it better for the peace of 
 Scotland that the uncanny Duke should escape. There were 
 stories circulated of Bothwell's slaughter of one of the 
 prelate's youngsters, and of the drowning of a page who 
 was too weak of will to be trusted with the Duke's secrets. 
 
EARL BOTH WELL. 27 
 
 But the evidence is far from convincing : de odio facilius 
 creditur. After a sojourn of some weeks, — for which the 
 bishop had soon to answer, — Bothwell re-embarked and 
 sailed out of the Moray Forth towards his dukedom. When 
 he arrived at Orkney, the bailiff and keeper of his castle of 
 Kirkwall showed such scant respect that in two days he 
 found it necessary to set out for his more northern domains. 
 Olaf Sinclair and his men welcomed him to Shetland and 
 tendered the ancient due of an ox and sheep. This island 
 loyalty prompted the Lord High Admiral to take courage. 
 He cast covetous eyes on two large well-armed Hanse 
 vessels lying off the coasts. Arrangements were made 
 with the captains, and the ships joined his Scottish craft. 
 What did he intend to do with his four vessels ? Was he 
 but safeguarding himself against possible attack from the 
 South, or was he meditating some frolic with the merchant- 
 men on the high seas ? There was but the difference of 
 a hat between a Liddesdale freebooter and a North Sea 
 corsair. He had not long to wait to show his prowess, 
 for, on August 25th, four Scots ships, sent by Murray, now 
 Regent, arrived oif Bressay Sound. They were under the 
 command of his Carberry friends, Kirkaldy and Tullibar- 
 dine, and they carried the person and blessing of the 
 bishop who had married him at Holyrood. The Admiral's 
 ships, on the approach of the enemy, cut cables and 
 sailed out by the northern end of the Sound. It was a 
 hot chase, but the Pelican and her companions were not to 
 be caught. The Unicorn, with the headstrong Kirkaldy on 
 board, pursued the last of Bothwell's ships, but she came 
 to grief on a sunken rock, and left her captain, bishop, and 
 merry men to be rescued by the rest of the fleet. Bothwell, 
 who was on land at dinner with Foud Olaf when the Regent's 
 ships arrived, escaped over island and ferry to the far north 
 Unst, and there rejoined his fleet. As some of his men 
 had been left on shore in the scurry at Bressay, he sent one 
 of his vessels for them round by the west side of the islands, 
 with instructions to follow the Pelican into the North Sea. 
 He had, however, little time for new plans, for, on a sudden, 
 Kirkaldy bore down on him and hard pressed him for three 
 
28 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 hours in a running fight. Bothwell lost a mast by a cannon 
 ball, and was in danger of defeat, had not a wild breeze 
 risen and lashed his own vessel and another out into the 
 ocean. The Regent's ships gave up the chase, and the dark 
 spirit which had troubled Scotland so sorely passed away for 
 ever, out into the mist and storm, amid the fitting discord 
 of wind and cannon and the curses of disappointed foes. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The skelter of the night and following day ended off the 
 Norse island of Karm. Bothwell's pilots were out of their 
 reckoning until the chance courtesy of a Rostock vessel 
 offered to guide them into the calmer waters behind. But 
 by ill-luck his Danish Majesty's warship the Bear en- 
 countered the weather-beaten crafts as they crept haven- 
 wards, and Captain Christiern Aalborg thought fit to ask 
 some explanation of their presence. " We are Scots 
 gentlemen," replied Bothwell's master-mariner, " who wish 
 to go to Denmark to serve his Majesty." This excellent 
 desire was not considered equivalent to letters of safe- 
 conduct, the more especially as Bothwell protested that 
 those who should have given him a passport were under 
 guard. By a clever ruse, Aalborg divided the Scots sailors, 
 some to his own vessel, on the plea of supplying them with 
 fresh provisions, others to the mainland to the kindly care of 
 the Karm folks, whom he had roused against the "freebooters." 
 This done, — a sore vexation to Bothwell, who could easily 
 have " demonstrated " (his own word !) his superior strength, 
 — there followed the announcement that they would all to 
 Bergen in merry company. Whereupon Bothwell, as in 
 genuine melodrama, proclaimed his nobility to the meddle- 
 some Dane. In all approved instances the hero discloses 
 a trig and modish garb beneath his foul disguise. Un- 
 fortunately for Bothwell his silver-laced doublets were in 
 the vessel which he had ordered back from Shetland, and 
 the princeliness of a boatswain's dress, patched and be- 
 spattered, was too obvious a joke to a first-class official, who 
 
EARL BOTHWELL. 29 
 
 could not have heard of the strange ways of Caliphs or of 
 the Philosophy of Clothes. And straightway they all set 
 sail for Bergen. 
 
 Eric Rosenkrands, governor of the castle of Bergen, 
 sent on board a commission of twenty-four eminent pier- 
 masters and commission - agents to examine Aalborg's 
 prisoner. They so bothered him about his passport that 
 he had to startle them with the query, " From whom should 
 he get a passport, being himself the supreme ruler in the 
 country ? " His bourgeois censors could not treat him very 
 harshly after that ; so he was allowed to stay at an inn " at 
 his own expense " — whatever that might mean. He tells 
 that he had invitations to dine at the castle ; and we know 
 from local records that Eric did feast him in his hall, 
 perhaps for curiosity, perhaps for those post-prandial 
 romances which might not have travelled from Spynie or 
 Holyrood. He could walk about the town as he pleased. 
 "I thank the good Eric," says the memoir, "for the con- 
 fidence which he placed in me " ; and it tells no more of 
 Bergen, except that one day Bothwell was told to go to Den- 
 mark. But why ? First, nasty suspicions about his owner- 
 ship of the ship Pelican, erst of Bremen. Then, the awkward 
 ignorance of his own hirelings as to his identity, for both 
 policy and hurry had made him conceal it from them in 
 Shetland. To hear them say that he was a David Woth, — 
 and the Bergen folks tell that the said David had been 
 recently doing a little privateering on his own account, — was 
 poor support of his claims to respectability. Further, — 
 would the most gullible of men accept the situation if Mr. 
 Sims, and not History, had written it ? — Ann Throndsson 
 was living in Bergen, and, of course, confronted her dear 
 scoundrel in court. All this looks very like the fifth act, but 
 Ann was paid off with the promise of money from Scotland 
 and the gift of his smaller vessel. He had been endeavour- 
 ing to get a passport from the unwilling Eric, when yet 
 another disclosure made the good people of Bergen de- 
 termine to send him to Copenhagen. For, when things 
 looked ill, Bothwell had sent for a casket which was 
 hidden among the ballast, though at his examination he had 
 
30 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 said there was nothing in his ships for which he cared. It 
 was opened in the castle with full legal ceremony, and found 
 to contain, among other papers, a copy of his impeachment 
 as a murderer, robber, and traitor, with the offer of the 
 Scottish Lords for his person, and a letter of lament from 
 Queen Mary. There was a strange fatality for him in 
 caskets, even in Norway. This was enough, by way of 
 testimonial as to previous character, for commandant Eric 
 and the burgomasters of Bergen. His strange requests, 
 one day to go to Scotland, another to France, another to 
 Holland, his endeavour to get a boat to take him to hostile 
 Sweden, his " several mocking expressions " against them, 
 especially that he would be quits with them in time to 
 come, made them anxious to be delivered of the uncanny 
 man who had drifted to their shores. On the 30th of 
 September Captain Aalborg set sail for Copenhagen, and 
 Bothwell, with but four or five of his companions, went also 
 in the Bear. 
 
 Frederick II. was not at his capital when the ship arrived, 
 but the fussy High Steward, Peter Oxe, received him, and, 
 because of a letter which he had received from the Earl of 
 Murray, detained him in gentle ward in the royal castle. 
 There was some correspondence between Frederick and Oxe 
 on the subject, in which the former showed himself inclined 
 to look leniently on the case of his royal cousin's spouse, 
 despite the warning of his slave that Bothwell was " very 
 cunning and inventive ", could no longer be kept with safety 
 in the said castle, and should be despatched to another 
 castle, say, in Jutland. These arguments were the more 
 unavailing by reason of a letter from Bothwell to Frederick, 
 which the honest Oxe had sent on with his own, and the 
 king seemed likely to let his guest remain in easy captivity 
 till his return to his capital. But it chanced that with 
 provoking impropriety there arrived a Scottish herald, who 
 had been storm-tossed for two months, with a letter in the 
 name of James VL, containing the inevitable demand for 
 Bothwell's surrender. Frederick could not choose between 
 the Scottish story and that of his prisoner, who pleaded 
 he had been acquitted of the charge of murder, and was 
 
EARL BOTHWELL. 31 
 
 the husband of the Queen, herself an unwilling recluse in 
 the islet of Lochleven. So he resolved that the disputants 
 might, if they would, hammer out the truth on Danish 
 soil, and Bothwell might write for witnesses and papers ; 
 but, for better security, the latter should go to the arched 
 chamber in Malmoe Castle, where a former High Steward 
 of Denmark had been lodged. " And we command you," 
 wrote Frederick to Constable Kaas, " that you wall up the 
 secret closet in the same ^hamber, and, if the windows with 
 the iron trellis be not strong and quite secure, that you see 
 to that." Danish High Stewards, whether in prison or at 
 large, had not been equal to Bothwell in " cunning and 
 invention." 
 
 Bothwell carried with him to Malmoe the true story 
 of his life and misfortunes, from which we have already 
 culled not a few of his most studied veracities ; and there 
 he added a shorter petition, craving liberty and aid for 
 the rescue of Mary from Lochleven, and promising, with 
 assumed authority from Mary and her Council, to hand 
 over the Orkneys by way of recompense. This offer 
 was most politic, for the Danes were still hankering 
 after their old possessions, and it came all the better from 
 the man whose patent of earldom of these islands was 
 among the arrested papers. This may, as one biographer 
 has hinted, have been the reason why Bothwdl, though 
 still a prisoner, was guarded by Frederick from all the 
 heralds, ambassadors, and agents who demanded his hateful 
 person. 
 
 Into all the intrigue which is associated with the names 
 of Captain John Clerk and Thomas Buchanan ; into the 
 prayer for Bothwell's execution in Denmark, the handing 
 over of his servants Murray and Paris, whom we last met 
 at the Kirk-o'-Field; into events connected with the death 
 of Murray and the fiercer persecution by the next Regent, 
 Lennox, father of the murdered Darnley, — into these we 
 cannot be expected to enter. They are the topics of our 
 larger histories and the pet labour of Professor Schiern. 
 There the reader will find how well Bothwell kept his wits 
 in the crisis, how astutely he completed the discrediting of 
 
32 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Clerk, how comfortable he managed to make his durance in 
 Malmoe, so comfortable, indeed, that we are led to expect 
 that he is on the eve of liberty. Strangely enough it was 
 but the prelude to the last and saddest episode of the 
 tragedy, for suddenly, on June i6, 1573, for some reason 
 which record does not name, he was hurried off to a foul 
 dungeon in the lonely castle of Dragsholm. What it was 
 that had thus compassed his exile Bothwell probably did 
 not know, though he may have se^n how his prospects with 
 Frederick would darken as news came and re-came of the 
 growing strength of his foes in Scotland, and, worst of all, 
 of the bloody deeds on the Eve of St. Bartholomew by the 
 French partisans and blood-relations of his Queen. 
 
 The governor of Dragsholm had seen well to his outer 
 trellises, for Bothwell's friends and foes for long knew 
 naught of how he fared within the grim walls. Then came 
 those rumours which ever cling to such mysteries, — that 
 he had died, that he "was greatly swollen, not dead", 
 then, at last, with the persistence almost of fact, that 
 he had succumbed to slow disease. We know, at least, 
 that in 1578 he was buried by the sea in the lonely 
 church of Faareveile. If poetic justice be not requited 
 by the cruel durance of his later years, or the artistic 
 soul be not satisfied by the weird ceremony amid the 
 screaming of the wild sea-birds on that restless shore, let 
 those who will fill in with what colour they may the 
 horror of his dying madness. " Ad sordes aliasque miserias 
 accedente amentia, vita turpiter acta dignum habuit exitum." 
 So the ideal villain is complete, and that world, which, 
 confident of endless deliria and an everlasting dungeon, 
 yet likes, for Art and the Preacher's sake, to see a little 
 meted out before a spirit passes from their midst, smiled 
 complacently at this bitter foretaste of his woe. But 
 Bothwell can never be a mere George Barnwell, the 
 scoundrel of the virtuous tale, who is punished and 
 dies, as surely as the goodly youth finds his princess and 
 is for ever happy. The measure of his magnificent 
 iniquity is the unending fascination of his life. Not a 
 hundred history books, sober and fantastic, not twice 
 
EARL BOTHWELL. 33 
 
 as many reams of Swinburnian verse can drive him, or his 
 lovely Duessa, into that limbo to which all flabby villainy 
 does inevitably go. His mischief made, he vanished from 
 the world weirdly and in shadow, as Mephisto does : like 
 « him he is perennially interesting. 
 
SIR EDWARD KELLEY. 
 
 (ISSS-IS9S-) 
 
 " He bears 
 The visible mark of the Beast on his forehead ; 
 And for his sfone, it is a work of darkness, 
 And with philosophy Winds the eyes of man." 
 
 The Alchemist. 
 
 IN the year of grace fifteen hundred and fifty-five, at the 
 hour of four o'clock p.m., in the town of Worcester, there 
 was born an infant who subsequently bore the name of 
 Edward. There would have been something wanting to the 
 fitness of things if the name of so doubtful a character had 
 been above doubt ; and if a man of such duplicity had not 
 also possessed a double designation. Accordingly, although 
 Edward's original name was Talbot, he appears to have 
 found it convenient occasionally to dub himself Kelley, and 
 by that appellation he is known to fame. The stars had 
 marked him out to be a man of " clear understanding, quick 
 apprehension, and excellent wit, with a great propensity to 
 philosophical studies and the mysteries of nature," but the 
 days of his youth and apprenticeship to an apothecary at 
 Worcester gave few signs of the future that awaited him. 
 At the age of seventeen Kelley proceeded to Gloucester Hall, 
 Oxford, but his academic career was cut short after a resi- 
 dence of twelve months ; perhaps he did not consider the 
 university a suitable arena for the exhibition of his peculiar 
 talents, or it may be that a premature display of them pre- 
 judiced the authorities against allowing him proper scope 
 for their further development ; at all events Kelley never 
 graduated in anything but deception, or became master of any 
 

 KEI.I.EV AND DK. DEE INVOKING THE SPIRIT OF A DEAD PERSON. 
 
SIJi EDWARD KELLEY. 35 
 
 art but that of lying. He seems to have adopted a manifold 
 calling ; he became, either in turn or all at once, a lettered 
 rogue and vagrant, a roving astrologer, a London attorney, 
 and a deft forger. 
 
 The pursuit of one or other of these professiops 
 brought him into Lancashire, where he attained notoriety 
 by digging up the body of a man who had been buried 
 the previous day, and by means of incantations making 
 it answer questions which he put concerning a certain 
 young gentleman of quality: Kelley was his guardian, 
 and naturally felt some anxiety to learn the exact manner 
 and time of his de^th. Accordingly, with friendly solici- 
 tude and the help of an accomplice named Paul Waring, 
 he performed the orthodox black ceremonies (as shown 
 in the accompanying picture), and proceeded to extract 
 the desired information. Either he found some difficulty in 
 fulfilling the dead man's prophecies, or their accomplish- 
 ment was not attended by the needful pecuniary gains, 
 for immediately afterwards Kelley found it necessary to 
 practise as a forger; his was as yet a 'prentice hand, 
 and the lack of artistic finish exhibited by this performance, 
 " together with certain other foul matters," led to the loss 
 of his ears in the pillory at Lancaster. This was a serious 
 blow for one who coveted the reputation of a philosopher, 
 but Kelley's ingenuity devised a skull-cap which not only 
 concealed his loss but gave him a sage and sober look which 
 deceived even his most intimate enemies. He found it con- 
 venient, however, to retire to Wales, where he adopted the 
 name Kelley, and spent some time wandering about as an 
 itinerant astrologer, eking out a hand-to-mouth existence. 
 His travels were not altogether fruitless. A certain inn- 
 keeper, with whom he stayed, had become possessed of an 
 old and curious manuscript, which had been discovered in 
 the tomb of a bishop in a neighbouring church ; some fanatics 
 or thieves had sacrilegiously opened up his grave in the hope 
 of securing the treasures said to be concealed within it. 
 They found nothing but the aforesaid manuscript and two 
 small ivory bottles, containing respectively a ponderous 
 white and red powder. These pearls beyond price were 
 
36 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 rejected by the " pigs of apostasy " ; one of the bottles was 
 shattered on the spot and its contents for the most part lost. 
 The remnant with the other bottle and the manuscript were 
 disposed of to the innkeeper, who, in his turn, sold them to 
 Kelley for one pound sterling. With this treasure Kelley 
 made his way to Dr. John Dee, whose fame as a hermetical 
 philosopher had probably reached his ears ; and thus began 
 a partnership pregnant with instruction and interest. 
 
 Dee and Kelley were excellent types of the two classes into 
 which mankind is divided by those who consider themselves 
 exceptions to the rule. Dee was a fool and Kelley was a knave. 
 When such conjunctions occur they are generally happy for 
 the knave, and Kelley succeeded in making out of Dee what 
 must then have been the comfortable income of £50 a year, 
 besides board and lodging. Dee was a man of parts ; edu- 
 cated at Cambridge, he devoted himself assiduously to the 
 study of mathematics and astrology ; he made a practice of 
 working eighteen hours a day, so that his subsequent mental 
 aberrations need not excite much surprise. He was now in 
 his fifty-fourth year and had published many learned works, 
 but his astrological studies had once, at least, nearly proved 
 fatal to him. He had been consulted by some of Elizabeth's 
 servants as to the date of Queen Mary's death, for which 
 offence he and two others were thrown into prison. Dee was 
 charged with heresy as well, and when the former accusation 
 was dismissed he was left to the tender mercies of Bonner; 
 he combined, however, a certain amount of cunning with his 
 folly and succeeded in proving his innocence to the satisfac- 
 tion of his judge. The accession of Elizabeth brought him 
 into royal favour ; his mathematical and astronomical 
 learning gained him the friendship of mariners bent on the 
 discovery of a north-west passage and other adventurers 
 such as Gilbert, Hawkins, and Frobisher ; he knew Burleigh 
 and Walsingham ; even Elizabeth herself used to call at his 
 house at Mortlake, and when Dee was ill sent her own 
 physician to attend him. But social advancement did not 
 divert Dee from his search after the secrets of life, and his 
 practice of astrology seems to have added considerably to his 
 income. One evening he was pursuing this mysterious 
 
SIR EDWARD KELLEY. 37 
 
 occupation when he was dazzled by a sudden blaze of light 
 
 and a being appeared at his window who professed to be the 
 
 angel Gabriel and presented him with " the philosopher's 
 
 stone." It was a round piece of polished cannel coal, but is 
 
 always referred to as the crystal, and after passing through 
 
 various adventures and hands, including those of Horace 
 
 Walpole, it is now said to repose in the British Museum. 
 
 Other crystals have, however, claimed the honour of being 
 
 Dee's ; one such belonged to Richard James Morison, better 
 
 known as Zadkiel, who made use of it to interview Christ 
 
 and His disciples. A distinguished admiral who charged 
 
 Zadkiel with "gulling the nobility" by its means, was in 
 
 1863 sued for libel and cast in damages to the extent of 
 
 twenty shillings. 
 
 For some time Dee found but little use for this supernatural 
 gift ; he was unable to distinguish clearly what the spirits 
 who appeared in it said, and forgot their communications 
 before he could write them down. He had already employed 
 several skryers, or seers, with varying degrees of ill-success, 
 and the last, whose name, Barnabas Saul, should have been 
 a guarantee of permanent grace, began to suffer from loss of 
 spiritual insight about October, 1581, and by the following 
 March the well of his imagination had completely dried up. 
 Kelley's appearance was therefore like that of an angel — per- 
 haps a little in disguise. He received the story of the crystal 
 with rapturous delight and unhesitating credulity. To his 
 eye of faith the spirits appeared in no stinted measure, and 
 immediately he was constituted Dee's " skryer." It was he 
 who looked into the crystal and heard the communications 
 of the spirits while Dee took them down at his dictation. 
 In Butler's words — 
 
 " Kelley did all his deeds upon 
 The devil's looking-glass, a stone." 
 
 This alchemical neophyte was now fairly embarked on his 
 career : more fortunate than modern mediums he escaped 
 exposure, and made a living out of his profession. Various 
 opinions have been held as to his good faith ; he may have 
 been more sinned against than sinning, and diabolical 
 
38 TWELVE BAD ME A. 
 
 ingenuity is said to have been merely the guise which his 
 childhke simplicity assumed. But reality or disguise, no 
 manner of doubt as to its astounding nature remains after 
 an impartial study of his adventurous career. He devoted 
 himself energetically to the practice of his art, and, indeed, 
 to interpret the sayings of his spiritual intervievs^ers was no 
 easy task; their utterances, according to another famous 
 magician, " were very indistinct, and they spoke like the 
 Irish, very thick in the throat." As a rule their prophecies 
 were not given vocally, but they signified by " forms, shapes, 
 and creatures what was demanded." Dee, moreover, had 
 an unreasonable habit of expecting the spirits to be able to 
 answer questions on all subjects, and this necessitated hard 
 work on Kelley's part to acquire sufficient knowledge to 
 meet these demands. But all this did not satisfy his rest- 
 less energy ; he broke out into lucubrations in Latin verse 
 on the philosopher's stone which pass all understanding 
 save that of an alchemist. These have been frequently 
 republished, and a translation has even recently appeared. 
 Kelley also wrote numerous recipes for transmuting 
 baser metals into gold, but he appears to have found 
 precept in this respect more practicable than example. 
 His position does not, however, seem to have met all his 
 ambitious requirements, and he made an attempt to leave 
 Dee, taking every precaution to ensure discovery in time 
 for Dee to prevent his departure by the offer of a fixed salary 
 of £50 a year besides board and lodging. Probably on the 
 strength of this, Kelley married; his master had just taken 
 a second wife, and the two families lived together with 
 almost apostolic community of goods. Kelley was intro- 
 duced into the fashionable society which occasionally called 
 at Dee's house, and the credulous interest of these visitors 
 in astrology suggested the idea that the crystal might be- 
 come an invaluable aid towards the realisation of certain 
 ambitious schemes that he had conceived. 
 
 In the year 1582 there came to England a Polish noble 
 named Albert Laski or k Lasco ; his father had been one 
 of the pioneers of the Reformation in Poland, but Albert 
 followed the fashion and returned to the Roman Catholic 
 

 S., Co o-p ei' .■■- cTilp : 
 SIR EDWARD KELLEV. 
 
SIJi EDWARD KELLEY. 39 
 
 fold. Attracted to England by the fame of Elizabeth, he 
 
 was made much of at the Court and taken, among other 
 
 places, to Oxford, where he was much disappointed not to 
 
 find Dr. Dee, whose hermetical fame had excited his curiosity. 
 
 An interview was easily arranged between the two in London, 
 
 and Laski became an enthusiastic devotee of the spirits ; 
 
 Dee and Kelley were nothing loth to admit him to their 
 
 stances, but not their secrets, for Laski was a bird as ripe 
 
 for plucking as they could wish. His ambition and vanity 
 
 were only surpassed by his credulity. The spirits, charmed 
 
 with his childlike faith, responded liberally to his desire for 
 
 revelations, and their disclosures were as flattering as they 
 
 were extraordinary. At their first attempt, there appeared 
 
 in the crystal " a pretty girl of seven or nine years of age, 
 
 with her hair rolled up before and hanging down very long 
 
 behind, with a gown of sey, changeable green and red, with 
 
 a train that seemed to play up and down like and seemed to 
 
 go in and out between the books lying in heaps." Madimi — 
 
 for such was her name — was a bright, attractive creature, 
 
 exceedingly willing to give all the assistance in her power, 
 
 even to the length of learning Greek, Latin, and Syriac, if 
 
 that would be of any use, but it usually happened that when 
 
 very inconvenient questions were asked by Dee to which 
 
 Kelley's knowledge or inventive faculty did not supply him 
 
 with an answer, she was called away by her mother, an 
 
 ill-natured person, to look after her young brothers and 
 
 sisters. On this occasion, however, she found time to 
 
 intimate that Laski was fated to become the ruler of two 
 
 kingdoms, and to promise him as great a future as Kelley 
 
 thought his vanity or credulity would stomach. " His 
 
 name," said she, " is in the book of life. The sun shall not 
 
 pass his course before he be a king, his counsel shall breed 
 
 alteration in his state, yea, of the whole world." The one 
 
 thing needful to secure entrance into his earthly kingdom 
 
 was apparently to provide sustenance for Dee and Kelley ; 
 
 at least this was Kelley's interpretation of Madimi's behest. 
 
 Laski's vanity proved equal to the task, and he became more 
 
 and more dependent upon the oracular utterances of the 
 
 spirits. 
 
40 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 In the whole story there is nothing more touching than 
 the consideration of the spirits for Kelley's welfare and 
 comfort ; they even condescended to such minutiae as to 
 bid him sit down during their interviews because they knew 
 it was troublesome to him to stand. Curiously enough it 
 seems to have come to their ears that a warrant was out 
 against Kelley for coining false money, and with prompt 
 solicitude they commanded Laski to take Dee and Kelley 
 with their families and return to his estates in Poland. 
 The order was no sooner given than obeyed, and this embryo 
 church of the spirits embarked with all its goods and chattels 
 on a trading vessel a little below Greenwich. But the winds 
 and waves have a grudge against fugitive prophets; their 
 departure was signalised by the commencement of a storm 
 which caused their speedy disembarkation on the Isle of 
 Sheppey, as neither Dee nor Kelley aspired to the roh of a 
 second Jonah. There they waited three days ; their second 
 attempt proved that the most spiritual exaltation is no proof 
 against physical prostration, but at length they landed at 
 Brill on July 30, 1583 ; proceeding through Holland, Fries- 
 land, and Germany by way of Embden and Bremen, they 
 arrived at Lubeck where they remained during November 
 and part of December. On Christmas Day they reached 
 Stettin, and it was not till February, 1584, that they found 
 a haven of refuge in Laski's broad estates nearXracow. 
 
 Here was a veritable promised land flowing with milk and 
 honey. Laski's pockets were well lined, and supplied all 
 their wants ; the communications of the spirits were nicely 
 adjusted to his liberality. Each act of generosity on Laski's 
 part was rewarded with a new and more generous promise 
 from Kelley's ghostly friends, whose skill in explaining 
 delays in their fulfilment might well be called superhuman, 
 while any suspicions as to their genuineness were banished 
 for the time by the gradual approach to success made by the 
 experiments in transmuting baser metals into gold. This 
 formed the main occupation of the little leisure which 
 Kelley's angelical visitors permitted him. The powder 
 procured from the Welsh innkeeper was prolific of expecta- 
 tions, and Kelley showed great industry in the consumption 
 
SIR EDWARD KELLEY. 41 
 
 of materials provided at Laski's expense ; at length a piece 
 of metal cut out of a frying-pan was transmuted into pure 
 gold, and sent with the pan to Queen Elizabeth as con- 
 clusive proof of Kelley's alchemistic talents. Meanwhile 
 Laski's means grew small by degrees and beautifully 
 less; his estates were mortgaged almost to their full 
 value, and as Kelley's experiments in alchemy cost more 
 than the gold produced was worth, they were not a very 
 valuable source of income. An introduction to Stephen 
 Batory, King of Poland, did not increase the resources 
 of this band of philosophers, as that redoubtable monarch 
 was wary in his dealings with the unseen world, and 
 hesitated to part with his money before he got its value. 
 The goose appeared- to have laid its last golden egg, and 
 the spirits, accommodating as usual, began to suggest that 
 perhaps after all Laski was not the chosen instrument for 
 the redemption of the world by means of universal monarchy, 
 and to hint that Kelley's presence was required elsewhere. 
 
 There was no lack of aspirants for the honour of his 
 society; two emperors — Ivan of Russia and Rudolf of 
 Austria — sent invitations to their respective Courts, but the 
 friendship of a private individual with fewer calls upon his 
 purse and less power of vengeance in case of disappointment 
 was preferred to the fickle favour of princes ; Dee and Kelley 
 with their families removed to Cracow in March, 1586, and 
 after various wanderings took up their residence at Trebona 
 with a Bohemian noble named Rosenberg. Here their 
 " actions " were resumed with renewed vigour and expense ; 
 and the result was an ounce and a quarter of gold. But the 
 manipulation of spirits is easier than the manufacture of 
 gold, and practice had perfected Kelley's imagination, ven- 
 triloquism, or clairvoyance; he no longer saw them as in 
 a glass, darkly ; his visitors came thick and fast to the 
 crystal, and were of all sorts and conditions, from " angelical 
 creatures and spiritual beings down to a divel of Hell," 
 with whom Kelley, drawn it may be by the force of mutual 
 attraction, seems to have been peculiarly intimate. Gabriel, 
 Raphael, Uriel, and Michael all appeared at Kelley's call, 
 while humanity was represented by a galaxy of strange 
 
42 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 women in stranger costumes. Their revelations were 
 catholic, and ranged from paradise and the kingdom of 
 heaven to hell and the kingdoms of earth; the mysteries 
 of the future no less than the secrets of the present were 
 disclosed, though, unlike Cassandra's, their prophecies were 
 always believed and never came true. On one occasion 
 Kelley came to Dee in a state of righteous indignation ; he had 
 discovered that a description of some countries given by the 
 spirits had come straight out of Ptolemy, and declared them 
 to be a mere snare and a delusion. Dee rose up in defence 
 of his angelical creatures, and his belief was only strengthened 
 by Kelley's doubts. 
 
 Similar occurrences were frequent, and it would seem 
 that Kelley treated Dee in the most approved method of 
 dealing with women ; he always asked for what he did 
 not want and said what he did not mean. Whenever 
 he particularly wished Dee to believe the sayings of the 
 spirits, he expressed disbelief himself, and his master in- 
 variably rose to the bait. But artifice was rarely neces- 
 sary, and only when it was more than usually evident 
 that the sphere of the spirits' communications was strictly 
 limited by the range of Kelley's knowledge. These were 
 always made in Biblical language, a knowledge of which 
 was the only virtue to which Kelley pleaded guilty ; and it 
 was a virtue eminently qualified to impose upon a pious fool 
 like Dee. But the "sermon-like stuff" served up by the 
 spirits was not all that Kelley heard in the crystal. Some- 
 times it thundered in the stone ; once he says, " I have heard 
 a voice about the shew-stone very great, as though men were 
 beating down of mud walls — the thumping and shussing and 
 cluttering is such." Bountiful converse with angels like this 
 was reserved for the faithful few, and could only be the 
 reward of scrupulous observance of all spiritual require- 
 ments. These are said by a famous astrologer of the next 
 century to be " neatness and cleanliness of apparel, a strict 
 diet, upright life, and frequent prayers to God " ; another 
 wizard is said " to have been much given to debauchery, so 
 that at times the demons would not appear to the speculator; 
 he would then suffumigate ; sometimes to vex the spirits he 
 
SIR EDWARD KELLEY. 43 
 
 would curse them and fumigate with contraries." It would 
 seem that the demons, like gods and other mortals, take 
 pleasure in incense offered at their shrine ; or the fumigation 
 may have been by way of a personal disinfectant. The same 
 authority states that the reason why Kelley " had not more 
 plain resolutions and more to the purpose was because he 
 was very vicious unto whom the angels were not obedient 
 or willingly did declare the questions propounded." But 
 these charges might with equal justice be brought against 
 most astrologers and might be attributed to professional 
 jealousy, for Kelley certainly saw much more in his crystal 
 than any one else did. 
 
 The usual interleaving of astrology with alchemy now 
 received a fresh impetus from Kelley's acquisition of a new 
 elixir; the story is told by William Lilly, the famous astrolo- 
 ger already quoted, " who had it related from an ancient 
 minister who knew the certainty thereof from an old English 
 merchant, resident in Germany at what time both Dee and 
 Kelley were there." According to this unimpeachable and 
 conclusive authority, while the two philosophers were at 
 Trebona a certain friar called on them ; as he knocked Dee 
 peeped down the stairs and instructed Kelley to give the 
 polite answer that he was not at home. The friar replied 
 that he would take another time to wait upon him, and some 
 few days after came again. Dee required Kelley to return 
 the same answer if it were the same man. Kelley did so. 
 This was too much for the friar's patience ; he broke out 
 into angry reproaches. " Tell thy master I came to speak 
 with him and to do him good, because he is a great scholar 
 and famous ; but now tell him, he put forth a book and 
 dedicated it to the Emperor : it is called ' Monas Hiero- 
 glyphicus.' He understands it not ; I wrote it myself. I 
 came to instruct him therein, and in some other profound 
 things. Do thou, Kelley, come along with me ; I will make 
 thee more famous than thy master Dee." Kelley hesitated, 
 but finally joined the friar and obtained from him the elixir. 
 There is a Mephistophelian air about this story, and some 
 have been so irreverent as to suggest (on insufficient evidence) 
 that the reverend friar was none other than his Satanic 
 
44 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 majesty, who demanded Kelley's soul in exchange for the 
 elixir ; in that case neither could be congratulated on the 
 bargain. Kelley, however, was more fortunate than Faust, 
 and this event was followed by unusual liberality on his 
 part ; at the wedding of one of his maidservants he gave 
 away £"4,000 worth of gold rings. The unlucky friar's exist- 
 ence was now of course superfluous, and was conveniently 
 cut short; perhaps the spirits who showed such unfailing 
 consideration for their votary did not stick at a trifle hke 
 murder where he was concerned, but Kelley's enemies have 
 taken a mean advantage of the evidence being against him, 
 and attributed the friar's death to poison administered by his 
 pupil. 
 
 This was one of the many occasions on which Dee 
 and Kelley quarrelled and had temporary separations. In 
 the course of these Kelley appears to have visited Antwerp 
 where, according to Dee, he fought valiantly against the 
 Spaniards during the siege in 1585. Both found lucrative 
 occupation in transmitting to Burleigh such news as they 
 could pick up from abroad, and Dee had a permanent salary 
 as Queen's intelligencer. They always, however, came to an 
 agreement again, and continued their alchemistic and other 
 labours. On one occasion, at the instigation of the Papal 
 nuncio, they were expelled from the Emperor's dominions, but 
 Rosenberg's intercession procured their return to Prague. 
 Their dubious occupation gained them many enemies, and 
 they lived in constant dread of spies. One of these was a 
 certain Francis Pucci who had insinuated himself into their 
 confidence, and accompanied them from Cracow to Prague; he 
 was a tool of the Papal nuncio in Prague, and informed him 
 of all that passed between Dee and Kelley, and when they 
 were expelled tried to persuade them to go to Rome, where 
 they would assuredly have had a very warm reception from 
 the Inquisition. Rudolf still hesitated between his belief 
 that Kelley could make gold and his deference to the nuncio; 
 at one time Dee and Kelley are conspicuous marks of his 
 favour, at another they are fleeing from his resentment. But 
 in spite of all interruptions the conferences with the spirits 
 and experiments in transmuting metals proceeded merrily 
 
Sm EDWARD KELLEY. 45 
 
 at Rosenberg's expense. Once, after a more than usually 
 serious squabble between the two philosophers, Dee ap- 
 pointed his son Arthur his skryer, but the uninventive boy 
 could see nothing in the crystal, and Kelley's success in 
 interpreting things that had been invisible to Arthur made 
 Dee more convinced than ever of his indispensability. He 
 was restored to his position with a firmer hold than ever 
 on Dee's weak mind, and the spirits continued to give vent 
 to unending prophecies of ruin and success in terms that 
 rendered their application sufficiently easy to any one whom 
 they might subsequently seem to suit. 
 
 At length the iteration of such abracadabra became a 
 trifle wearisome, and either Kelley or one of the spirits 
 was responsible for a variety of the entertainment. Evil 
 communications are popularly supposed to corrupt good 
 manners, and before long Kelley's devotion to spiritualism 
 degenerated in appearance into a cult of carnalism. It were, 
 however, unwise to inquire too curiously whether Kelley 
 corrupted the spirits or the spirits Kelley; it is, moreover, the 
 privilege of the holy to stand unspotted in equivocal situa- 
 tions, for to the pure all things are pure, and Kelley, with a 
 conscience void of offence, did not shrink from disclosing to 
 Dee revelations of the angelical beings, which in the case of 
 a less irreproachable character might have been attributed 
 to a prurient imagination. Madimi, who first appeared on 
 the scene as an innocent and attractive maiden, began to 
 evince an acquaintance with carnal affections which ill 
 became her tender years and spiritual character. Some of 
 the spirits adopt a garb gradually more scanty and meretri- 
 cious, and at last Madimi is seen clothed only in her native 
 modesty, itself a garment only too threadbare and trans- 
 parent, while her language might suggest that she had been 
 revelling in Milesian novels or the Decameron ; other spirits 
 again, anti-types of Chaumette's goddess of reason, proclaim 
 new doctrines of moral degeneration in the language of pro- 
 phets and the garb of prostitutes. One of these Corinthian 
 ladies was the herald of a departure in the direction of the 
 doctrine of which Brigham Young has become the high 
 priest, and Utah the headquarters. 
 
46 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Matrimonial felicity was not among the blessings vouch- 
 safed to Kelley. His wife was as ill-favoured as Dee's was 
 comely, and he does not appear to have been equal to the 
 taming of the shrew ; but with the evidence as to Kelley's 
 morality before him, the unprejudiced observer will no more 
 connect this fact with the circumstances that followed than 
 he will impute to so profound a philosopher a weakness so 
 mundane as an eye for beauty. Still less will he charge so 
 pious a believer with wilful infraction of the seventh com- 
 mandment. Such innuendoes need only be mentioned to 
 be dismissed as unfounded and malicious, leaving the 
 reader free for an unprejudiced consideration of the facts. 
 
 On Friday, April i8, 1587, after the usual prayers, the 
 spirits, with equivocal gestures and " provocations to 
 sin," gave Kelley to understand that a Divine command 
 required him and Dee to live in such manner as to 
 have their wives in common. With what feelings of 
 horror such an injunction would be received by a man 
 of Kelley's morality and honour may be more easily 
 imagined than described, and he at once took refuge in the 
 assumption that spiritual love and charity was all that was 
 meant. But the unconventional detail into which Madimi 
 entered at the next stance left no room for doubt as to her 
 meaning. A less conscientious medium might have been 
 tempted to conceal such unpalatable revelations, but no 
 such idea crossed Kelley's mind, or, if it did, it was at once 
 dismissed as unworthy of his character and reputation. 
 Only one course remained to a sensitive and honourable 
 man, and that was a counsel of despair ; he roundly declared 
 that these angelical beings were the servants of Satan and 
 the children of darkness because they manifestly urged and 
 commanded in the name of God a doctrine damnable to the 
 laws of God and His commandments ; for his part he would 
 have nothing more to do with them, and sacrificing his 
 salary to his honour he left his master. 
 
 This new doctrine was no less a stumbling-block to Dee 
 than to Kelley, but his faith was more robust and proof 
 against all the insidious assaults of the devil, reason, or 
 scepticism ; Kelley's language shocked him and defeated its 
 
SIR EDWARD KELLEY. 47 
 
 own object. What more conclusive proof could he have 
 than Kelley's disgust, that this was a genuine command of 
 the spirits ? and what more terrible catastrophe could 
 happen to him than by Kelley's departure to be cut off 
 from intercourse with those spirits who had become his 
 guides, philosophers, and friends ? At length, actuated, no 
 doubt, solely by consideration for his master, Kelley yielded 
 to his entreaties and consented to resume his position and 
 salary. Had this unhappy victim to spiritualism and friend- 
 ship been an unprincipled debauchee bent on securing his 
 neighbour's wife, the most diabolical ingenuity could not 
 have devised surer methods of attaining the consummation 
 he devoutly wished for, than the communication of the 
 angelical beings. " What is sin ? " asked Madimi at their 
 next seance. "To break the commandment of God," 
 answered Dee. " If the self-same God," was the rejoinder, 
 " give you a new commandment, taking away the former 
 form of sin which he limited by law, what remaineth 
 then ? " "Then must the same God be obeyed," confessed 
 Dee, and the injunction about having their wives in 
 common was repeated with a threat of terrible punish- 
 ment in case of disobedience — " Behold, evil shall enter 
 into your senses, and abomination shall dwell before your 
 eyes as a recompense, and your wives and your children 
 shall be carried away before your face." Dee trembled and 
 obeyed ; his wife consented " for God His sake, and His 
 secret purposes," and a solemn agreement was drawn up 
 and signed by the four parties concerned, to give effect to 
 this new commandment. 
 
 But even this heroic measure did not bring a millennium 
 to this singular community, and quarrels, strange in a 
 fraternity so completely guided by the spirits, broke out 
 between the two pious philosophers. At length they agreed 
 to part. Dee handed over to Kelley his powder, books, and 
 instruments, and departed through Germany to England, 
 where he arrived on December 3, 1589 ; he subsequently 
 became warden of Manchester, and lived to the ripe age of 
 eighty-four. Kelley remained behind at Prague, where he 
 enjoyed the unabated confidence of Rosenberg and the 
 
48 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Emperor. Even Dee apparently had as high an opinion of 
 him as ever, for, though he occasionally complains in his 
 diary of Kelley's behaviour, he recommended him to 
 Burleigh as a man of the keenest intelligence and utmost 
 value for gathering information respecting the secret 
 counsels of foreign states, as well as thorough master of 
 Hebrew, Greek, Latin, French, and Italian — a testimonial 
 not more credible than most panegyrics, in face of a 
 later statement of Dee's that Kelley was quite innocent 
 of Greek. Kelley, however, in spite of his honours, did not 
 feel secure ; the Emperor's goodwill was dependent upon 
 the alchemist's ability to provide a sufficient quantity of 
 gold, while the Papal nuncio was constantly urging the 
 imprisonment of a heretic and wizard. There were, 
 besides, numerous other aspirants to favour and a philo- 
 sopher's fame, who were not sparing of insinuations as 
 to Kelley's honesty and ability. These were ominous 
 symptoms. Kelley, a competent reader of the signs of 
 the times, began to look around him with a view to 
 feathering a nest in a new quarter. Whether or not " his 
 patriot soul within him burned, his footsteps home once 
 more to turn, and tread his native strand," Kelley, after 
 mature reflection, fixed upon England. There were, how- 
 ever, initial difficulties. The suspicion of being a forger and 
 conjurer is not a good introduction anywhere, least of all 
 for a prophet returning to his own country ; and Kelley's 
 first object was to create as favourable an impression as 
 possible in the minds of Queen Elizabeth and the Court. 
 He had never quite abandoned the idea of returning to 
 England, and his gift of that remarkable piece of gold cut 
 out of a frying-pan, accompanied with the insinuation that 
 he who had done such a feat once could do it again with 
 obvious advantage to a penurious and parsimonious princess, 
 was doubtless intended as an incentive to an invitation. 
 
 In 1589 a fresh means of ingratiating, himself presented 
 itself to his mind. It was an age of plots and poison, 
 when every Protestant prince was supposed to be the 
 mark of Jesuit weapon ; but a few years had passed since 
 the silent William had fallen a victim to a Jesuit's dagger, 
 
SIJ? EDWARD KELLEY. 49 
 
 and England was still ringing with the discovery of a 
 similar attempt upon the Virgin Queen. What better 
 title to gratitude than the disclosure of such machinations ? 
 Patriotism, according to Johnson, is the last refuge of 
 scoundrels; and Kelley felt himself compelled, by the 
 interests of his country and himself, to discover another 
 Jesuit intrigue ; he had himself before had dealings with 
 the Jesuits who were said to be his friends and ghostly 
 fathers, but no right-minded man would hesitate to throw 
 over his friends at the call of duty. The device might 
 be a little stale, but a generation that has seen Pigott 
 needs no persuading that people, even grave and reverend 
 seigniors, when in the mood, possess unbounded credulity ; 
 and the association of the term Jesuit with the conspiracy 
 was sufficient testimonial to its genuineness. Kelley, then, 
 had his theory; the next step was to make facts fit the 
 theory or invent them. It is an easy task, even for 
 German scholars; it is a trifle to the average imagina- 
 tion, and Kelley was to the manner bred, if not born. 
 A victim was soon forthcoming in the person of Dr. 
 Christopher Parkins. 
 
 This worthy person was an Englishman, and had been 
 a Jesuit in Rome. Some years previously Burleigh's son 
 visited the Eternal City, where a somewhat indiscreet 
 expression of Protestant opinions brought down on him 
 the fury of the mob ; he owed his life to Parkins's inter- 
 vention. In gratitude he brought the quondam Jesuit back 
 to England; his father made Parkins Dean of Carlisle, 
 and he was frequently employed in missions abroad. One 
 of these journeys took him to Prague, and there he seems to 
 have had intercourse with some Jesuits, probably to learn 
 their secrets with a view to informing Burleigh. This came 
 to Kelley's ears, and gave him his opportunity. Rapidly 
 concocting a story with enough detail to give artistic 
 versimilitude to his invention, he despatched a couple of 
 servants to London with the following important dis- 
 closures, through Divine Providence, made to him in confi- 
 dence by " one Parkyns, a Jesuit come from Rome to Prague 
 in Bohemia." The Pope and his confederates had evolved 
 
 5 
 
50 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 seven methods " of murthering her Majesty Queen Eliza- 
 beth, so that if the first, second, third, fourth and fifth 
 failed, the sixth or seventh should take effect, though all 
 the devils in hell said nay." Parkins was the instrument 
 chosen to proceed to Dantzic, and thence, in the habit of 
 a merchant, to England, as " he wras the King of Spain's 
 right-hand man in all his treacherous enterprises against 
 England." 
 
 Parkins wrote in great trepidation to Walsingham, hoping 
 that Burleigh would lend his assistance to deliver the 
 innocent from the malicious practice of enemies. He 
 obtained a testimonial from the King of Poland, and the 
 continuation of his embassy proved that confidence was 
 still reposed in him. But Kelley's patriotism met with a 
 reward which must ever encourage the cultivation of similar 
 virtues in others. Burleigh wrote urging him to return to 
 England, and explaining to him of what inestimable use he 
 might be by his admirable art in rescuing his native country 
 from the mighty preparations of the King of Spain. There 
 were indeed, he continued, " some that spake against him 
 as pretending to do a thing impossible ; and others had said, 
 that some such there had been, that pretended to that skill, 
 that proved but cheats. But that they at the Court had 
 a more honourable opinion of him." This letter is not 
 without a suspicion of irony, and it concluded with a request 
 that Kelley would send a small portion of his powder to 
 make a demonstration with before her Majesty, or at least 
 enough to defray her charges that summer for the navy. 
 Kelley found the sting of the letter in its tail, and the 
 invitation does not seem to have met with a very eager 
 response. At any rate he remained in Bohemia. 
 
 The cloud that threatened him had for the time rolled by ; 
 and once more he basked in the sunshine of Imperial favour. 
 His fortunes were now at their zenith. Burleigh wrote two 
 letters more effusive than the last, full of compliments and 
 • regrets at his non-arrival in England. The Emperor 
 offered substantial inducements for him to remain, and 
 Kelley was created a Baron of the Empire and Marshal of 
 Bohemia. Agents travelled all the way from England to 
 
S/H EDWARD KELLEY. 51 
 
 consult with him on the north-west passage, and returned 
 crest-fallen when he declined to sanction the scheme. But 
 even these marks of honour could not silence the murmur- 
 ings of the people, and with them Kelley was in no good 
 odour. Report said that he was deeply in debt. He had 
 been indiscreet in some of his references to the Emperor and 
 his Court, and laboured under the suspicion of an attempt to 
 poison him, of which the following account is given. Rudolf 
 was reported to be suffering from a throbbing of the heart ; 
 " Sir Edward Kelley distilled an oyl for it ; which being sent 
 unto the Emperor, and Sir Edward's enemies being by, 
 persuaded his Majesty that it was appointed to poison him. 
 Proof was made of the force of it ; and it wrought the effect 
 of poison. Some said the throbbing of the heart was given 
 forth for a colour to hide a more infamous disease ; which 
 I leave in doubt. The circumstances beat shrewdly about 
 it. For the oyl is said to have had the vertue of effecting 
 in favour or otherwise, according to the quantity. Which 
 for an inward disease soundeth somewhat improbably." 
 Kelley had, moreover, shown a distressing modesty which 
 was much misunderstood. A certain Italian named Scoto 
 had got an introduction at the Court, and challenged Kelley 
 to an exhibition of his art, which the latter, too generous to 
 publicly convict a rival of imposture, chivalrously declined 
 on the plea of sickness. Rudolf was too opaque to appre- 
 ciate such motives of self-abnegation, and his suspicions 
 were not allayed by a letter of the Duke of Bavaria, 
 informing the Emperor that a Venetian alchemist, whom 
 he had executed at Munich, had confessed to being in sworn 
 league with Kelley. Rudolf was accordingly not inclined to 
 allow this retiring alchemist to escape scot-free, and the 
 intelligence that Kelley had received an invitation from 
 Queen Elizabeth, and was preparing to depart, convinced 
 him that a prison was the most efficacious means of pre- 
 venting that undesirable consummation. 
 
 So far Kelley had flourished like a bay-tree on his one 
 peculiar talent. But accidents will happen even to the 
 biggest scoundrels. His preparations were progressing 
 favourably, and by the 29th of April all was ready for 
 
52 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 his departure on the morrow. Shortly after dark, how- 
 ever, a friendly hint was sent him that it would be 
 well not to stand upon the order of his going, but go at once. 
 Kelley was not slow to act ; he gave no sign, not even to his 
 family, but procuring a horse set out alone for Sobislaus, 
 a town twelve miles from Prague, belonging to Rosen- 
 berg. On the next day at noon an unwonted crowd of 
 visitors gathered round his door; it consisted of a portion 
 of the Emperor's guard, the captain and lieutenant of the 
 castle, the provost of the town and a secretary of state, 
 accompanied by the usual mob of urchins and idlers 
 eager for anything new. They had chosen that hour, 
 expecting to find Kelley at dinner; but the bird had flown, 
 and all they could do was to seize his property and seal up 
 the doors ; his servants were bound and carried off to prison, 
 and every means was taken to extract his whereabouts from 
 his brother without much success, as his ignorance was as 
 great as their own. 
 
 The Emperor's rage knew no bounds ; he swore like a 
 trooper, or, as the chronicler has it, " in Dutch fashion " ; 
 orders were immediately issued to have the highways 
 watched ; every possible hiding - place in Prague was 
 searched, and a post despatched to Rosenberg command- 
 ing him forthwith to deliver up Kelley if he took refuge 
 with him. On the 2nd of May he was overtaken at 
 Sobislaus. He had shown his usual cunning in his choice 
 of a retreat, and when charged with his flight, with an air 
 of injured innocence exclaimed that nothing was further 
 from his intentions — he was merely on a visit to his dear 
 friend and patron the Earl of Rosenberg. He protested 
 against being arrested, and said he was a Bohemian (which 
 was true), and councillor of state; but Rudolf was in- 
 exorable, and a courier returned with an order for his 
 imprisonment in the castle of Pirglitz, three miles from 
 Prague. 
 
 Kelley's first attempt at escape was thus frustrated. 
 But this insult offered to so eminent a man was not 
 allowed to pass unnoticed by the English Court ; the 
 Queen despatched an agent named Webb with letters to 
 
Sm EDWARD KELLEY. S3 
 
 the Emperor on his behalf; diligent inquiry was made into 
 the cause of his arrest, and Webb's representations seem 
 to have produced some effect upon the Emperor. At all 
 events Kelley was once more set at liberty in October, 
 1593. But his freedom was short lived. Elizabeth sent 
 a Captain Peter Gwynne to induce him to return to 
 England, and Kelley, having gained sufficient experience 
 of Rudolf, was by no means loth ; but a report about this 
 plan, or a fresh access of piety and submission to Rome on 
 the Emperor's part led to the necromancer's re-imprison- 
 ment in 1595. This was too much for the patience even of 
 a philosopher : he murdered one of his guards in a moment 
 of exasperation, and thus rendered his position desperate. 
 Perpetual imprisonment stared him in the face. Kelley 
 was not a man to submit calmly to such a fate ; he deter- 
 mined once more to escape. His place of confinement was 
 on the city wall ; some friends procured horses to be under 
 his window at two o'clock in the morning. Kelley tore up his 
 sheets, and, tying them together, made a rope which reached 
 nearly to the ground. On hearing the appointed sign he 
 began his descent, but alas ! he had been no believer in the 
 doctrine that neither eating nor drinking is necessary to 
 man, and corpulency had been the consequence of living not 
 wisely but too well. His descent was scarcely begun when 
 the sheets gave way, and Kelley's fall resulted in the fracture 
 of two legs and a rib. His injuries proved fatal, and after 
 lingering two days in a cottage close by, this sixteenth- 
 century Cagliostro went to join the angelical beings or 
 devils of hell with whom he had enjoyed such enter- 
 taining and edifying converse during life. 
 
 He left behind him one request. " I venture to hope," he 
 writes in his treatise "De Lapide Philosophorum," "that my 
 name and character will so become known to posterity that 
 I may be counted among those who have suffered much for 
 the sake of truth." The foregoing sketch, biassed though it 
 may be by a pardonable lues biographica, is a humble and 
 pious endeavour to meet this pathetic appeal, and show 
 forth a martyr to alchemy and truth in the light he deserves ; 
 it is, perhaps, not too much to hope that as such it may 
 
54 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 afford some comfort, solace, and gratification to Kelley's 
 troubled spirit and to those of the noble army of his 
 imitators and apologists who yet tarry among us, to whom 
 it is, with confidence and affectionate esteem, submitted for 
 approval. 
 
MATTHEW HOPKINS INTERROGATING TWO WITCHES. 
 
MATTHEW HOPKINS. 
 
 (Died, 1647.) 
 
 " By the pricking of my thumbs 
 Something wicked this way comes." 
 
 Macbeth (Act iv. sc. i.). 
 
 AFTER having been comfortably ignored by the majority 
 for many centuries, a minute knowledge of witches, 
 their nature, institutions, and homicidal habits, evolved 
 amid the forests and mountains, the legends and myths of 
 Germany, seems to have reached England and become 
 general during Tudor times. With a curious mental rapidity 
 the dullest of mankind assimilated the theory and practice 
 of witchcraft. Men of all ranks became greatly exercised as 
 to this new department of the universe, much alarmed at 
 the increasing number of witches and the appalling extension 
 of their powers. Before the middle of the seventeenth 
 century the subject had already been solemnly expounded 
 and carefully systematised by the learned. John Gaule, 
 in his " Select Cases of Conscience touching Witches 
 and Witchcraft " (1646), expresses the views of a con- 
 scientious believer at this period. From Deuteronomy xviii. 
 and other Biblical sources he deduces not only the fact 
 of witchcraft, but principles of witch-classification, " the 
 nature, the signes, and the markes of witches." 
 
 The first law directed against witchcraft proper, making it 
 a felony, was passed in 1541, and was renewed by Elizabeth 
 in 1562. Jewell, preaching before the Queen, piously prayed 
 that " the witches and sorcerers, who in these last four years 
 are marvellously increased, may never practise further than 
 
56 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 upon the subject." But with the advent of James I. the 
 real mania began. The King, who had written a work on 
 Demonology, was a firm believer and had presided in person 
 at several trials in Scotland. One poor woman told him 
 that Satan, with a tremendous oath, had declared " he was 
 the greatest enemy he ever had." This delighted the King, 
 who bragged about it till the end of his life, but did not 
 spare the witch. Another performed before him the very 
 dance she had danced for the pleasure of Satan. The King 
 encored the dance, but burned the poor girl, who had thus 
 lied in vain. Some of the stories were, however, too much 
 even for the credulity of James, who stigmatised many 
 witches as " extreme lyars." 
 
 As soon as James came to England, the Parliament, to 
 please him, passed a stringent law against witchcraft, which 
 was responsible for much that followed. Fashion and 
 interest now combined with an already sufficiently strong 
 belief to spread the mania. The delusion became epidemic 
 and penetrated to all parts of the kingdom. 
 
 Even the greatest men are not able wholly to escape 
 from their environment. Alone of the Elizabethan dra- 
 matists, Ben Jonson, whose strong common sense was 
 worthy of his great intellect, and who was intimately 
 acquainted with occult literature, speaks with no uncertain 
 voice. In his masterpiece, " Volpone," and in his admirable 
 comedy, " The Devil is an Ass," he ridicules fearlessly and 
 unsparingly not only witch-finders, but witchcraft itself. 
 What James thought of his Poet Laureate is not recorded. 
 It is difficult to say what Shakespeare's opinion was on 
 almost any subject, and witchcraft is certainly not one of 
 the few exceptions. His witches, at once grotesque and 
 terrible, embody one phase of the popular belief. They 
 raise storms, they sail through the air, they kill swine, cats 
 and toads are their familiars. But what their creator 
 thought of their reality cannot be known. It is even 
 doubtful whether the great mind of Bacon was free from 
 this delusion. In his "Advancement of Learning," he 
 seems to credit the accounts of witches, but as he was a 
 courtier, and his work was dedicated to the greatest enemy 
 
MATTHEW HOPKINS. 57 
 
 the devil ever had, it is perhaps permissible to doubt his 
 sincerity in this matter. Later, Selden took up the doubtful 
 position that witches, whether real or not, should be 
 executed for their evil wishes, though they might have no 
 power to realise them. Still later, Sir Thomas Browne, the 
 author of " Vulgar Errors Exposed," aided and abetted Sir 
 Matthew Hale in the trial and condemnation of two 
 wretched old women upon evidence which it would be 
 complimentary to call ridiculous. 
 
 The witch panic reached its climax during the reign of 
 saints in this country. Multitudes were destroyed between 
 the accession of James I. and the triumph of the Puritans. 
 At 'least three thousand were hanged or burned during the 
 Long Parliament and the Commonwealth. The time was 
 ripe, and Matthew Hopkins, " Witch-finder General," the 
 Sprenger of England, sprang into being, " new hatched to 
 the woeful time." 
 
 Matthew Hopkins was born in Suffolk, early in the seven- 
 teenth century. He was the son of James Hopkins, of 
 Wenham, Suffolk, a *' minister." Scarcely anything is 
 known of his early life, but it appears that he practised 
 the law, first at Ipswich, and afterwards at Manningtree 
 in Essex. In 1644 his career as a witch-seeker — a trade 
 never before formally taken up in England — began. His 
 attention appears to have been first called to the subject 
 in March, 1644, when seven or eight witches met in his 
 neighbourhood and offered sacrifices to the devil. Four 
 witches were hanged for sending the devil, in the shape 
 of a bear, to kill him in his garden, a proceeding which 
 naturally incensed him. About this time his success in 
 discovering the devil's works caused the execution of 
 twenty-nine witches in a batch, and made him abandon 
 the law for the calling of a " Witch-finder General." 
 
 In this capacity he journeyed on horseback through 
 Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, and Huntingdonshire, with an 
 assistant named John Stern, and a female searcher. His 
 charges were twenty shillings a town, besides expenses 
 thither and back, and twenty shillings for each witch 
 convicted. Supposed witches were urged to confess, and 
 
S8 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 on the strength of their own confession were hanged. If 
 they refused to confess, they were searched. The " search- 
 ing " was a process that was hideous in its cruelty j 
 nevertheless Hopkins asseverates that divers witches " have 
 come ten or twelve miles to be searched, of their own 
 accord, and hanged for their labour." 
 
 Hopkins was the first to reduce the practice of witch- 
 finding to a science and to systematise the methods in 
 vogue, besides adding novelties of his own invention. He 
 had four principal tests, those of " pricking " and " swim- 
 ming " being, as he said, the most satisfactory. 
 
 A suspected witch, then, was subjected to one or more of 
 the following tests : — 
 "~ I. She was stripped naked, shaved, and searched for the 
 devil's mark, of which a third teat on any part of the body 
 was the most decisive of guilt ; but any mark which was 
 insensible to pain, and which refused to bleed when pricked, 
 was sufficient for the witch-finder's purpose. This method, 
 though a favourite one with Hopkins, was not so widely 
 adopted in England as in Scotland, where the " prickers " 
 formed a separate trade. 
 
 2. The witch was placed on a stool, bound if she resisted, 
 and closely watched for at least twenty-four hours, during 
 which time she was kept without meat or drink. If a fly, 
 wasp, or other insect entered the room the watchers 
 endeavoured to kill it; if it escaped, nothing could be clearer 
 than that it was the witch's imp come to suck her blood.^ 
 
 ' This part of the procedure is described with more minuteness by 
 Gaule, who had it on the authority of a witch-finder, confirmed both 
 by a witch and by a witness of the proceedings : " Having taken the 
 suspected witch, she is placed in the middle of a room, upon a stool 
 or table, cross-legged, or in some other uneasy posture ; to which, if 
 she submits not, she is then bound with cords ; there is she watched 
 and kept without meat for the space of four-and-twenty hours (for 
 they say that within that time they shall see her imp come and suck). 
 A little hole is likewise made in the door, for the imps to come in at ; 
 and lest it should come in some less discernable shape, they that 
 watch are taught to be ever anon sweeping the room, and if they see 
 any spiders or flies, to kill them. And if they cannot kill them, 
 then they may be sure they are her imps." 
 
MA TTHE W HOPKINS. 59 
 
 This test, which was the invention of Hopkins himself, 
 was applied to an old woman who confessed that four flies 
 who appeared in her room were her imps, named " Ile- 
 mauzar," " Pye-wackett," " Pecke in the Crowne," and 
 " Griezzell Greedigutt," names which Hopkins declared 
 " no mortal man could invent." 
 
 This test was also applied in the case of Elizabeth Clark. 
 With this woman Hopkins watched for three nights, 
 assisted by his confederate Stern, and on the third night 
 she confessed that the devil had appeared to her in the 
 shape of a " proper gentleman." Also that he had three 
 imps, a little dog — white with sandy spots — named " Jar- 
 mara," a greyhound called "Vinegar Tom," and a third, 
 like a polecat, whose name the conscientious Hopkins could 
 not remember at the trial. All these imps were seen by 
 Hopkins himself, and, in addition, a black cat, three times 
 as big as an ordinary cat. This, on being pursued by the 
 greyhound, vanished, and the latter returned to Hopkins 
 " shaking and trembling exceedingly." Stern added the 
 valuable testimony that the third imp's name was " Sacke 
 and Sugar." 
 
 3. The third method was to make the suspected witch 
 walk incessantly for many hours till, her feet being blistered, 
 and herself exhausted, she was ready to confess anything to 
 avoid further torture. This was the plan adopted with John 
 Lowes, for fifty years Vicar of Brandeston, in Suffolk. He 
 was nearer eighty than seventy years of age, described by 
 Baxter as a " reading " parson, a strong Loyalist, and no 
 doubt obnoxious to the Parliament on that account. Under 
 the torture described he confessed that he had two imps, and 
 that he commissioned one of them, when he was walking on 
 the shore near Landguard Fort, to sink a ship. This ship, 
 which belonged to Ipswich, was picked out by Mr. Lowes 
 from amongst a number of others, and sank immediately. 
 Fourteen widows were made in a quarter of an hour, and 
 the other ships sailed unconcernedly on. It is worthy of 
 note that, though nothing could have been easier than to 
 verify this remarkable statement, no inquiries were made, 
 and the whole thing was taken for granted. Mr. Lowes 
 
6o TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 confessed and gloried in many other mischiefs, and declared 
 that he had a charm to keep him out of gaol. In this he 
 was, however, mistaken, for he was hanged at Framling- 
 ham shortly after. He died declaring his innocence, and 
 reciting from memory the Burial Service of the Church 
 of England. This horrible murder was committed in the 
 year of grace 1645. 
 
 4. The witch was swum. This was the favourite test of 
 Hopkins, and was applied by tying the right hand to the 
 left foot, and vice versa, and then placing the victim, wrapped 
 in a sheet or blanket, carefully upon the water. If she sank, 
 she was drowned, but without loss of character; if she 
 floated she was found guilty and burned, the idea being that 
 the sacred element used in baptism refused to receive into 
 its bosom an accursed witch. 
 
 The career which Hopkins hewed out for himself was 
 fortunately not a long one. It only lasted some three years, 
 but during that time, according to his confederate, Stern, 
 he procured the execution of more than two hundred women. 
 All this time he had the complete approval of Parliament, 
 who sent a committee to support him, and assist, or in other 
 words intimidate, the judges. 
 
 At Bury St. Edmunds in 1645 Hopkins procured the 
 execution of eighteen witches in one day, and one 
 hundred and twenty more were left for trial. But the 
 appearance of the King's troops caused an adjournment, 
 and probably saved many lives. At Yarmouth in the 
 same year, sixteen women, all of whom confessed, were 
 hanged.^ One of these, whose imp took the rather un- 
 common form of a blackbird, made a waxen image of 
 a child, and buried it. She pointed out the spot, but 
 as no image came to light it was quite clear that the 
 devil had removed it — the more so, though the logic of this 
 is not quite obvious, as the child, who had suffered grievous 
 torments, recovered immediately. Another victim had two 
 children by the devil, but as soon as they were born they ran 
 away in " most horrid, strange, ugly shapes." 
 
 ' " Collection of Modern Relations." London, 1693. 
 
MA TTHE W HOPKINS. 6i 
 
 At Ipswich Hopkins was also very successful.^ Many 
 were hanged or burned, notably one "very religious woman" 
 who had three imps — a mole and two dogs — and who had 
 bewitched her husband to death, and also a person who 
 refused to lend her a needle. 
 
 At Faversham also, in 1645, which, on the whole, was 
 perhaps Hopkins' best year, though as the records of many 
 of his cases are lost this is not certain, three witches were 
 put to death.2 In these cases, as in many others, the devil 
 provided his victims but very sparingly with money. In no 
 case did he give more than one shilling at a time, and more 
 frequently sixpence, or even threepence. For this moderate 
 largess, and the promise of an imp, these foolish women had 
 signed away their salvation, had lived in contempt and 
 abject poverty, and had finally been burned alive. But it 
 never seems to have struck any what wretched bargains the 
 witches made for themselves. 
 
 In 1646 we find Hopkins at Huntingdon, where he pro- 
 cured the condemnation and murder of numerous unhappy 
 women.3 • Their imps were mostly mice. One Joan Willis 
 was specially favoured by Satan, who visited her in his 
 famous character of " Blackman," and accommodated her 
 with two familiars named " Grissell " and " Greedigut " — 
 dogs with hog's bristles on their backs. To another he 
 appeared as a bear, in which disguise, it will be remembered, 
 he first attempted the virtue of Hopkins himself. One 
 Elizabeth Churcher had two imps named " Beelzebub " and 
 " Trullibub," which to the ordinary eye seemed to be merely 
 walking sticks. But Hopkins said they were imps, and 
 Hopkins being, like Brutus, an honourable man, convicta 
 et combusta was the only possible result. Another woman 
 met with the same fate on the evidence of her little seven- 
 year-old daughter, who deposed that her mother rode on a 
 bedstaff. Another had an imp named " Pretty," whose 
 
 ' " Lawes against Witches." London, 1645. 
 
 = "Witches at Feversham." London, 1645. It is uncertain 
 whether Hopkins took part in the Faversham trials. 
 
 3 "The Witches of Huntingdon" (seven trials). London, 1646, 
 4to. 
 
62 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 speciality was the slaughter of capons. This comparative 
 harmlessness did not, however, save its mistress from the 
 extreme penalty. All these women, and many more, were 
 indiscriminately burned or hanged on the evidence of Hopkins 
 and his confederates, with such outside assistance as could 
 be obtained from children and other foolish or vvicked 
 persons, and with the full sanction of the committee of 
 Parliament. 
 
 In 1647 he was active at Worcester. There is a great 
 similarity in the witch trials. But in one of the Worcester 
 cases the devil wished to enter into the honourable state 
 of matrimony, from which it may be inferred that the 
 Worcester witches were younger and more attractive than 
 the ordinary witch, who was old, decrepit, and miserable. 
 One of them on being asked what Satan was like replied 
 enigmatically that he was a " properer" man than Hopkins. 
 This is not necessarily a compliment to the Prince of 
 Darkness if we may judge from an extant portrait of the 
 other worthy. 
 
 Hopkins was not, however, allowed to proceed long with- 
 out serious opposition. The first to enter the field against 
 him was John Gaule, the Vicar of Great Staughton, in 
 Huntingdonshire, already alluded to, who in a pamphlet 
 published in 1646 denounced Hopkins as a common 
 nuisance. Gaule, who was a firm believer in witches, 
 states early in his work, " He that will needs persuade 
 himself that there are no witches would as fain be 
 persuaded that there is no devil, and he that can 
 already believe that there is no devil will ere long believe 
 that there is no God."^ He declares that many popes, 
 friars, nuns, and priests have been notorious witches, and 
 denies the difference between good and bad witches, but 
 divides them into two classes — active witches who act with 
 the devil, and passive witches who are acted upon by him, 
 such as demoniacs. But notwithstanding the orthodoxy of 
 his belief, he denounces the witch-finding trade, and par- 
 ticularly Hopkins, declaring that he would have witches 
 detected by the power of the magistracy and the ministry. 
 ' An argument repeated by John Wesley as late as 1768. 
 
MATTHEW HOPKINS. 63 
 
 " Every old woman," he writes, " with a wrinkled face, a 
 furr'd brow, a hairy lip, a gobber tooth, a squint eye, a 
 squeaking voyce, or a scolding tongue, having a rugged 
 coate on her back, a skull-cap on her head, a spindle in 
 her hand, and a dog or cat by her side, is not only sus- 
 pected but pronounced for a witch." As for Hopkins's signs, 
 he added, they discover no witch but the user of them. 
 
 This pamphlet draws from Hopkins an insolent letter 
 addressed to the authorities at Staughton, in which he 
 stated his intentions to visit their town, provided they 
 showed their due sense of the honour intended them by 
 entertaining him with all respect, and provided they were 
 not, like their pastor, -supporters of witches and " such 
 cattle." In case the answer to this should not prove satis- 
 factory he stated that he would waive this shire altogether 
 and betake himself to such places where he might do and 
 punish not only without control, but with thanks and 
 recompense. No answer was returned to this precious 
 communication, and the terrible threat to strike the place 
 out of his visiting list was duly carried out. 
 
 This was the beginning of the end, and from Gaule's 
 attack Hopkins never recovered. Several other clergymen, 
 much to their credit, raised their voices against him. 
 Gaule's hint was taken up in certain " queries " presented 
 to the judges at the Norfolk assize, in which the theory 
 that Hopkins was himself an arch-wizard, or something 
 worse, was not obscurely propounded. The calumniated 
 '' Discoverer " found it necessary in May, 1647, to publish 
 a pamphlet (so quaint and naif in its seventeenth-century 
 phrasing that it has been deemed worthy of fuller descrip- 
 tion at the end of this paper) in answer to the queries 
 and in defence of his methods. 
 
 On his return t& Essex in 1647 Hopkins, who in three 
 years had made himself more dreaded than any witches, was 
 attacked on all sides. He was accused of sorcery, and it 
 was asserted that he was acquainted with Satan, whom he 
 had cheated out of a memorandum book containing a list of 
 witches. On one occasion he was set upon by a mob, and 
 escaped with difficulty. And it is much to be regretted, 
 
64 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 * for the sake of poetic justice, that there is no sure 
 foundation for the story that this canting scoundrel, who 
 committed his cruelties with a mask of piety, was himself 
 swum. The statement was long believed that his own 
 favourite test was applied to him, that he floated, was 
 taken out, tried, and executed. Hutchinson, in his 
 " Historical Essay Concerning Witchcraft," written in 
 1718, certainly states that his thumbs and toes were tied, 
 that he swam, and was hanged. But there appears to 
 be no record of this trial, and another account says that 
 he sank and was drowned, while a third avers that he 
 swam and escaped from the hands of the mob. There are 
 some lines in " Hudibras " (Canto III., 139-154), which are 
 probably responsible for the continuance of this belief. 
 
 " Hath not this present Parliament 
 A Ledger to the Devil sent, 
 Fully impower'd to treat about 
 Finding revolted witches out ? 
 And has he not, within a year, 
 Hang'd three score of 'em in one shire ? 
 Some only for not being drown'd. 
 And some for sitting above ground, 
 Whole days and nights, upon their breeches, 
 And feeling pain, were hang'd for witches. 
 And some for putting knavish tricks 
 Upon green geese or turkey-chicks ; 
 Or pigs that suddenly deceas'd 
 Of griefs unnat'ral as he guest ; 
 Who after prov'd himself a witch, 
 And made a rod for his own breech.'' 
 
 There is no doubt, however, that he gave up the ghost 
 in 1647, for the register of Mistley, near Manningtree, 
 contains an entry to the effect that Matthew Hopkins, 
 son of James Hopkins, Minister of Wenham, was buried 
 on the I2th of August, 1647, at Mistley. After his 
 death his confederate. Stern, published in his defence a 
 " Confirmation and Discovery of Witches," in which he 
 boasts of the destruction of two hundred women, and 
 describes Hopkins as a model of virtue and holiness. 
 
MA TTHE W HOPKINS. 6 5 
 
 The justificatory pamphlet previously mentioned, and 
 laboriously written by Hopkins himself, is not to be over- 
 looked. It bears the title, " The Discovery of Witches : 
 in Answer to severall Queries lately delivered to the 
 judges of assize for the County of Norfolk," and was 
 printed in 1647 with the well-worn text from Exodus 
 (xxii. 18), " Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." It 
 takes the form of answers to queries which had been, 
 and were likely to be, objected against Matthew in the 
 exercise of his vocation. 
 
 To the first insinuation that he " must needs be the 
 greatest witch sorcerer and wizzard himselfe else hee could 
 not doe it," he replied simply, " If Satan's kingdom be 
 divided against itselfe, how shall it stande ? " To the fourth 
 query his answer is so particular as to deserve quotation. 
 " I pray where was this experience " (in matters diabolic) 
 " gained, and why gained by him and not by others ? " 
 
 " The discoverer never travelled far for it, but in March, 
 1644, he had some seven or eight of that horrible sect of 
 witches living in the towne where he lived, a towne in 
 Essex called Maningtree, with divers other adjacent witches 
 of other towns, who every six weeks in the night (being 
 alwayes on the Friday night) had their meeting close by his 
 house, and had their severall solemne sacrifices there offered 
 to the Devill, one of which this Discoverer heard speaking to 
 her imps one night, and bid them goe to another witch, who 
 was thereupon apprehended, and searched by women who 
 had for many yeares knownethe Devill's marks, and found to 
 have three teats about her, which honest women have not : 
 so upon command from the Justice, they were to keep her 
 from sleep two or three nights, expecting in that time to see 
 her familiars, which the fourth night she called in by their 
 severall names and told them what shapes, a quarter of an 
 houre before they came in, there being ten of us in the 
 roome. The first she called was — 
 
 " I. Holt, who came in like a white kitling. 
 
 " 2. Jarmara, who came in like a fat spaniel without any 
 legs at all. She said she kept him fat, for she clapt her 
 hand on her belly and said he suckt good blood from her body. 
 
 6 
 
66 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 " 3. Vinegar Tom, who was like a long-legged greyhound, 
 with an head like an oxe, with a long tail and broad eyes, 
 who, when this Discoverer spoke to and bade him goe to the 
 place provided for him and his angels, immediately trans- 
 formed himself into the shape of a childe of four yeeres old 
 without a head and gave halfe a dozen turnes about the 
 house, and vanished at the doore. 
 
 " 4. Sacke and Sugarj like a black rabbet. 
 
 "5. Newes, like a polcat. 
 
 " Immediately after this witch confessed several other 
 witches . . . and upon their searches the same markes were 
 found, the same number, and in the same place, and the like 
 confessions from them of the same imps, and so peached one 
 another thereabouts that joyned together in the like dam- 
 nable practice, that in our Hundred in Essex, 29 were con- 
 demned at once, 4 brought 25 miles to be hanged, where this 
 Discoverer lives for sending the Devill like a Beare to kill 
 him in his garden. So by seeing diverse of the men's Papps 
 and trying wayes with hundreds of them, he gained this 
 experience, and /or ought he knowes any man else may find them 
 as well as he and his company, if they had the same skill and 
 experience." 
 
 He concludes by indignantly rebutting the charge that his 
 main object was to fleece the country. "Judge," he says, 
 "how he fleeceth the country, and inriches himselfe, by 
 considering the vast summe (of 20s.) he takes of every 
 towne." 
 
 jfudicet iillus. 
 
The- Huh Hm^.'' 
 
 JCru2l£r /ftna t 
 
 Ecu'/eafFliTii Vuanin£WufJiai7v£aran 
 af(£nj;Lmd an^ of /Us ^ta-'^ mosthan'''^ 
 
 J^ri^v C<ru.n,cell 
 
 JUDGE JEFFREYS. 
 
JUDGE JEFFREYS. 
 
 (1648-1689.) 
 
 " I'd praise your Lordship, but you've had your share 
 Of that before, if not too much by far ; 
 And now a nobler field for curses are : 
 Yet I'll not curse, but leave you to the Croud, 
 Who never baulk their rage, but speak aloud : 
 In all the lab'rinths of your crimes they'll track ye, 
 Worse than ten thousand furies they'll attack ye." 
 
 Life and Death of George, Lord Jeffreys, 1705. 
 
 I. 
 
 IN what sense was, Jeffreys a bad man ? Not one vice will 
 distinguish him from quite a crowd of respectable people of 
 his day. It was rather the greater field which he had for his 
 actions, the domineering power of his personality, and the 
 great affairs which he managed, that gave him an evil reputa- 
 tion in his own age and a worse one in ours. When reading 
 his speeches in court one feels at once that Jeffreys was a 
 man of ability, and as this personal power quickly drove him 
 through a crowd of unscrupulous rivals to the head of his 
 profession, so it distinguished him from them as a villain 
 of no common order. His father, John Jeffreys, survived 
 him, and was a Welshman of Acton, in Denbighshire. He 
 was respectable, and brought up a large family with credit — 
 that is to say, so far as he had anything to do with it. 
 Long afterwards when his son came into Wales he refused 
 to see him. One brother of the Judge went as consul into 
 Spain, and another became a successful clergyman. George, 
 the sixth son, tried various schools, ending with West- 
 minster, and from Busby, as he wished, in spite of his 
 
 67 
 
68 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 father, to go to the Bar, he passed to Trinity College, 
 Cambridge, leaving, however, before graduation. In London 
 he was a haunter of taprooms, but very attentive none the 
 less to the little arts of getting on in the world in which 
 he was afterwards so proficient. His biographer records 
 that he was poor, and probably sought the tavern because 
 he had no better place to go to, or no other place at all. 
 For his wit, or what passed for wit, he could get a free 
 dinner, and after all he was not yet twenty. So passed his 
 student days. During the Plague, a tradition, which Wool- 
 rych half believes, says that he once pleaded at the Kingston 
 Assizes. Two years after the plague he was called to the 
 Bar. There is said to have been a great deal of legal 
 business at the time of the Restoration, and it is suggested 
 by one writer that the main set of it lay towards the Guild- 
 hall and Clerkenwell. At Hicks's Hall, then, in the City, 
 and probably on the home circuit, Jeffreys first made his 
 mark. He cannot have known much law, but he had just 
 what was wanted in the smaller courts — a knowledge of 
 the world picked up from studying the weaknesses of men 
 in pothouses, and a quick, ready, rough sort of wit which, 
 as Macaulay says, went straight to the point. No sensible 
 person will believe that a man ever became Lord Chancellor 
 of England without something in which he was better than 
 his neighbours, and that something not of the worst. Jeffreys 
 had a good voice, audible at a considerable distance, as a 
 witness confessed in the trial of Sir Patience Ward for 
 perjury, and he soon became what we would now call the 
 leading junior. Woolrych records a few anecdotes of this 
 time which well illustrate the style of cross-examination 
 then in vogue. A countryman was giving evidence in a 
 leathern doublet, and when Jeffreys came to cross-examine 
 he bawled out, " You fellow in the leather doublet, pray 
 what have you for swearing ? " The man looked steadily at 
 him, and said, " Truly, sir, if you have no more for lying 
 than I have for swearing, you might wear a leather doublet 
 as well as L" Such was the practice at Hicks's Hall. 
 
 Jeffreys now designed to advance his fortunes by a rich 
 marriage, and paid his addresses to the daughter of a wealthy 
 
JUDGE JEFFREYS. 69 
 
 merchant in the City. As the way then was, he worked by 
 deputy, having secured the good graces of a companion to 
 the lady. Unfortunately the intrigue was discovered and 
 the companion dismissed. A marriage, nevertheless, took 
 place in May, 1667, when Jeffreys married, not the lady, 
 but the companion, whose name was Sarah Neesham ; she 
 was the daughter of a clergyman. 
 
 The City connection, which his successful practice at 
 Hicks's Hall was enlarging, was now to prove valuable to 
 Jeffreys. A namesake, John Jeffreys, an alderman of 
 London, known as "The Great Smoaker," took a fancy 
 to him, and by his influence he became, in March, 1671, 
 Common Sergeant of London in succession to Sir Richard 
 Browne. One of his earliest services to the City was his 
 appearance before the Council at Whitehall on behalf of the 
 Worshipful Company of Stationers who had suffered damage 
 by the printing of a psalter which the piratical publisher had 
 skilfully named the King's Psalter. It was on this occasion 
 that Jeffreys is reported to have commenced his speech in 
 the following remarkable fashion. Speaking of the opposing 
 publishers : " They have teem'd with a spurious brat, which, 
 being clandestinely midwiv'd into the world, the better to 
 cover the imposture they lay it at your Majesty's door," &c. 
 Of this kind of eloquence all one can say is that it was 
 successful : Charles was amused, and the case went in 
 favour of the Stationers. 
 
 It was rumoured that Sir John Howel (before whom Penn 
 had appeared for street preaching) was about to retire from 
 the Recordership, and Jeffreys saw that if further advancement 
 vvas to come it must come from the Court party and not 
 . from the City. He was a boon companion of Chiffinch, the 
 celebrated page of the back stairs, and, though his loyalty 
 in the City seems to have been questionable, Chiffinch 
 probably reported him as a suitable man for the King's 
 shifty business. The Duchess of Portsmouth may have 
 aided him, as he was of her party ; in any case he became 
 Recorder in succession to Sir William Dolben, who had 
 followed Howel for a short time and who proved in the 
 King's Bench subsequently that he had remembered what 
 
70 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Jeffreys had forgotten — his City principles. This in 1678 ; 
 he had become Sir George Jeffreys in 1677. Just before he 
 became Recorder his wife died, and he lost no time in 
 marrying the widow of a Mr. Jones, who was daughter of 
 Sir Thomas Bludworth, a former Lord Mayor. There were 
 reasons not very honourable to Jeffreys for this speedy re- 
 marriage, and his wife was afterwards noted as a " dame of 
 most slippery courses." 
 
 Sir George now presided at the Guildhall and frequently 
 acted as Crown prosecutor. In the hurricane of excitement 
 about the Popish Plot he found it hard work to steer a steady 
 course towards advancement. He was evidently perplexed 
 by " the wild tacking of the Court." At first, accordingly, he 
 professed to be an upholder of the Protestant religion, 
 whether sincerely or not may be left to others to decide ; but 
 he certainly was little worse than his contemporaries ; Wool- 
 rych discovers a number of instances in which he seems to 
 have been more lenient. But his reward soon came, for he 
 " scrupled so little, and did so much " ; he was made a 
 Sergeant-at-Law in 1680, a Welsh Judge, and Chief Justice 
 of Chester, and in 1681 became a baronet. All this before 
 he was forty. 
 
 His intimacy with the Court was now established. As 
 Solicitor-General to the Duke of York he was no exclusionist 
 and indeed seems to have tried to influence the Corpora- 
 tion in the duke's favour. He grew very arrogant as he 
 rose so rapidly, and experienced the checks to which such 
 men are liable. At the Kingston Assizes in 1679 he mono- 
 polised the conduct of a case and was ordered by Baron 
 Weston to hold his tongue. He foolishly complained that 
 he was not being well treated. The Judge retorted, " Ha, 
 since the King has thrust his favours upon you in making 
 you Chief Justice of Chester, you think to run down every- 
 body ; if you find yourself aggrieved, make your complaint ; 
 here's nobody cares for it." After another attempt to speak 
 Jeffreys burst into tears. The best description of his life at 
 this time is that furnished by Henry Booth, the member for 
 Cheshire, and afterwards Lord Delamere (in the course of a 
 speech, however, be it remembered upon the Corruption of 
 
JUDGE JEFFRE YS. 7 1 
 
 Judges) : "But I cannot be silent as to our Chief Judge, and I 
 will name him because what I have to say will appear more 
 probable : his name is Sir George Jeffreys, who, I must say, 
 behaved himself more like a Jack-pudding than with that 
 gravity which beseems a Judge: he was mighty witty upon 
 the prisoners at the bar ; he was very full of his jokes upon 
 people that came to give evidence, not suffering them to 
 declare what they had to say in their own way and method, 
 but would interrupt them, because they behaved themselves 
 with more gravity than he ; and in truth, the people were 
 strangely perplexed when they were to give in their evidence; 
 but I do not insist upon this, nor upon the late hours he 
 kept up and down our City: it's said he was every night 
 drinking till two o'clock, or beyond that time, and that 
 he went to his chamber drunk ; but this I have only by 
 common fame, for I was not in his company ; . . . but in 
 the mornings he appeared with the symptoms of a man that 
 overnight had taken a large cup." The speaker further 
 showed what in those times was a more serious cause of 
 complaint than these irregular habits — the neglect of the 
 assize business. 
 
 Jeffreys had now taken the Court side and must stand by 
 his masters. The Popish plot had not produced the effects 
 which some had hoped, and the attempt to convert it into a 
 means for removing the Duke of York from the succession 
 in favour of the Duke of Monmouth had hitherto failed. 
 In the conflict between the Petitioners and the Abhorrers 
 Jeffreys was forced to take a side, and as an abhorrer he 
 naturally displeased his old friends in the City. His conduct 
 in obstructing the presentation of petitions in Parliament was 
 referred to a select committee, and that committee, through 
 Mr. Trenchard, reported very unfavourably of him in 1680. 
 He seems to have been cowed, and weakly surrendered his 
 Recordership to Sir George Treby. Charles, who had a 
 stouter heart, does not seem to have wished him to give way, 
 but observing " that he was not Parliament-proof," he 
 allowed him to retire. Jeffreys was on this occasion, at 
 all events, as North says, " none of the intrepids." The 
 mob burnt him in effigy. 
 
72 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 It is somewhat strange to notice that after these difficulties 
 Jeffreys still possessed considerable interest in the City. 
 The Court could do nothing for him for the present, but 
 his wife's relations had influence; the City was not very 
 united. Jeffreys, being appointed Chairman of the Middle- 
 sex Sessions, which were held at his old haunt Hicks's Hall, 
 attempted to prevent Dissenters from serving on the jury. 
 He thus came into conflict, as he had hoped, with one party 
 in the Corporation, as the Under Sheriff had the returning 
 of the panel. The dispute ended in the Sheriff's reforming 
 the panel ; but Jeffreys was soon far too busily employed in , 
 other affairs to take much thought of what was doing at 
 Hicks's Hall. 
 
 In the year 1681 he amply vindicated the Court's choice 
 of him as an instrument. He secured the conviction of 
 Fitzharris by a speech of great force and vigour which fairly 
 carried the jury with him ; at the trial of the titular Arch- 
 bishop Plunket he forgot himself in the violence of his 
 rhetoric and had to be checked by Sawyer, the Attorney- 
 General. But any one who wishes to get a good notion of 
 the judicial ferocity of the time must read the accounts of the 
 trial of Stephen College. College was clearly a villain, though 
 a good many people of his acquaintance seem to have thought 
 otherwise ; but he was fighting for his life, and in the sultry 
 courthouse, through the long August days, had to keep up 
 a hand-to-hand fight with Jeffreys. The Attorney-General 
 and the Solicitor seem to have kept fairly quiet, but Jeffreys 
 thundered and swore and bandied jokes with the witnesses — 
 in fact did exactly what he was paid to do. He had a nasty 
 rap or two, however, having not overclean a record. Two 
 witnesses reminded him of his troubles in Parliament, and 
 it cannot have been pleasant to have had the reminiscence 
 suggested by Gates. 
 
 In attacking the privileges of the City in 1682 and 1683 
 Jeffreys gratifies at once his hatred of the aldermen and 
 of the Dissenters. His subsequent exertions against the 
 northern towns were dictated by a love of power and a 
 desire of pleasing his master. Charles, not being very ex- 
 acting, not even requiring the " little probity " demanded of 
 
JUDGE JEFFRE YS. 73 
 
 Dubois, Jeffreys became Lord Chief Justice of England 
 in 1683, and was at once called on to preside at one of the 
 most memorable trials of the time — that of Algernon 
 Sidney. " Let us have no remarks, but a fair trial, in 
 God's name," he began. This sounds well enough, being 
 occasioned by the whispering to the jury which went on 
 in court. But even if the whole of the villainy of the trial 
 be not true, he had a very odd notion of fairness. " I 
 must," said the unfortunate Sidney just before judgment, 
 " appeal to God and the world, I am not heard." Of 
 .Jeffreys, however, one said, " So as he rode on horseback 
 he cared not whom he rode over." A few days after the 
 trial he was noted by Evelyn at a wedding and reported to 
 be very merry — though Evelyn was somewhat hard to please 
 in the matter of gravity, as Pepys has borne witness. 
 
 Before James became King, Jeffreys had a great oppor- 
 tunity for proving his attachment to the Throne. He was 
 admitted to the Cabinet. He was the King's instrument in 
 freeing the Romish recusants. He never seems to have 
 been a Roman Catholic, though he may have " hesitated, 
 repented, trembled," as it was said at the time. His horror 
 of Dissent continued through life. A minister called Rose- 
 well fell in his path at this time, and after being imprisoned 
 with some severity, owing to the temper of the Chief Justice, 
 only escaped by an accident. Much, no doubt, of the severity 
 he exercised was due to his opposition to Lord Guilford, 
 whose place of Lord Keeper Jeffreys coveted, and who, more- 
 over, headed the moderate party at Court just as Jeffreys 
 headed the advanced one. Jeffreys secured the advancement 
 of Sir Robert Wright in spite of Guilford's opposition, and 
 if he be said to have pushed the fortunes of a worthless 
 lawyer, Guilford is not without blame in yielding to the 
 King's wishes. 
 
 In running foul of Baxter, under King James, Jeffreys, 
 in gratifying his hatred of a Dissenter, employed language 
 which fully justified Charles H.'s description of him as pos- 
 sessing " more impudence than ten carted street-walkers." 
 The blame of the conviction, however, rests rather with the 
 law than with the Judge; and of instruments Sir Roger 
 
74 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 L' Estrange must come in for condemnation as well as 
 Jeffreys. Let us follow the trial in the authorised account. 
 Baxter was committed, by Jeffreys' warrant, to the King's 
 Bench prison on February a8, 1685, for printing and pub- 
 lishing, " Quemdam falsum seditiosum libellosum, factiosum 
 €t irreHgiosum librum, called a Paraphrase on the Testament 
 with notes, doctrinal and Practical." So runs the indictment. 
 On the 15th of May, having pleaded not guilty, he moved for 
 more time, being ill. This brought out Jeffreys in his most 
 dreadful mood. He roared out, "I will not give him a 
 minute's time more, to save his life. We have had to do with 
 other sort of persons, but now we have a saint to deal with ; 
 and I know how to deal with saints as well as sinners. 
 Yonder stands Oates in the pillory, and he says he suffers for 
 the truth, and so says Baxter, but if Baxter did but stand on 
 the other side of the pillory with him, I would say two of the 
 greatest rogues and rascals in the kingdom stood there." 
 This language is doubtless vigorous, but it is hardly calcu- 
 lated to secure a man a fair trial. Baxter had little worldly 
 prudence. He stood forward as a representative man, and 
 on the 30th of May, when he was formally tried at the 
 Guildhall, he was represented by Wallop, amongst other 
 counsel, a lawyer peculiarly objectionable to Jeffreys. The 
 passages reflecting on the bishops marked by Sir Roger, 
 having been read out. Wallop proceeded to argue that they 
 were rather matters for the Bishops' Court, and in any case 
 were not libellous. " Mr. Wallop," says the Lord Chief 
 Justice, " I observe that you are in all these dirty causes ! 
 and were it not for you, gentlemen of the long robe, who 
 should have more wit and honesty than to support and hold 
 up these factious knaves by the chin, we should not be at 
 the pass we are at." " My Lord," says Mr. Wallop, "I 
 humbly conceive that the passages accused are natural 
 deductions from the text." " You humbly conceive," says 
 Jeffreys, "and I humbly conceive. Swear him — swear him !" 
 "My Lord, under favour, I am counsel for the defendant; 
 and if I understand either Latin or English, the information 
 now brought against Mr. Baxter upon so slight a ground 
 is a greater reflection upon the Church of England than 
 
JUDGE JEFFRE YS. 7 5 
 
 anything contained in the book he is accused for." Said 
 Jeffreys to him, "Sometimes you humbly conceive, and 
 sometimes you are very positive ; you talk of your skill in 
 Church history, and of your understanding Latin and 
 English ; I think I understand something of them as well as 
 you ; but in short must tell you that if you do not under- 
 stand your duty better, I shall teach it you." Upon which 
 Mr. Wallop very wisely sat down,' and Rotheram urged, with 
 small success, Baxter's well-known moderation in dealing 
 with the Church of England in his writings and practice. 
 Baxter himself added that he had incurred the censure of 
 some of his own party for his attitude. " Baxter for 
 bishops," said Jeffreys, roused in a moment ; "that is a merry 
 conceit indeed! Turn to it ! turn to it ! " Upon this Rotheram 
 read a passage from the Paraphrase to the effect that great 
 respect was due to those truly called to be bishops. " Ay," 
 says Jeffreys, "this is your Presbyterian cant — 'Truly called 
 to be bishops ' ; that is himself, and such rascals called to be 
 bishops of Kidderminster (an allusion to Baxter's request to 
 be allowed to continue preaching there) and other such-like 
 places ; bishops set apart by such factious snivelling Pres- 
 byterians as himself; a Kidderminster bishop he means, 
 according to the saying of a late learned author ; and every 
 parish shall maintain a Tithe-pig Metropolitan." Baxter 
 beginning again, Jeffreys: "Richard, Richard, dost thou 
 think we will hear thee poison the court ? Richard, thou art 
 an old fellow — an old knave ; thou hast written books enough 
 to load a cart ; every one is as full of sedition (I might say 
 treason) as an egg is full of meat ; hadst thou been whipt 
 out of thy writing trade forty years ago, it had been happy. 
 Thou pretendest to be a preacher of the gospel of peace, and 
 thou hast one foot in the grave ; it is time for thee to begin 
 to think what account thou intendest to give ; but leave thee 
 to thyself, and I see thou wilt go on as thou hast began ; but 
 by the grace of God I'll look after thee. I know thou hast 
 a mighty party, and I see a great many of the brotherhood 
 in corners, waiting to see what will become of their mighty 
 Don ; and a doctor of the party (looking at Doctor Bates) at 
 your elbow ; but, by the grace of Almighty God, I will crush 
 
76 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 you all." This celebrated harangue cannot properly be under- 
 stood without Jeffreys' summing up, but the vigour of the 
 language is unmistakable; the speech was reported by friends 
 of Baxter, who had good reasons for not forgetting it. 
 
 The whole case of course turned on the construction of the 
 selected passages. Atwood took the natural course of read- 
 ing some of the context which would throw light on their 
 meaning, but to this Jeffreys, probably a little wearied, 
 objected at once. " You sha'n't draw me into a conventicle 
 with your annotations, nor your snivelling parson neither." 
 " My Lord " replied Atwood, " I conceive this to be expressly 
 within Rosewell's case lately before your Lordship." "You 
 conceive," said Jeffreys — " you conceive amiss ; it is not." 
 " My Lord, that I may use the best authority, permit me to 
 repeat your Lordship's own words in that case." " No, you 
 sha'n't ; you need not speak, for you are an author already, 
 though you speak and write impertinently." Jeffreys pro- 
 ceeded to attack what Atwood had published, and Atwood to 
 defend it. Jeffreys often ordered him to sit down, but he 
 stuck to his argument on the construction of the passages, 
 and in the main, as Jeffreys confessed, he had his say. Poor 
 Baxter had no say, as Jeffreys wished to clear the way for his 
 summing up. " 'Tis notoriously known " he began, " there 
 has been a design to ruin the King and nation ; the old game 
 has been renewed, and this has been the main incendiary- 
 He is as modest now as can be ; but time was when no man 
 was so ready at, ' Bind your kings in chains, and your nobles 
 in fetters of iron,' and ' To your tents, Israel.' Gentlemen, 
 for God's sake do not let us be gulled twice," and so forth. 
 This gives the strength of Jeffreys' position in all these 
 matters, and to some extent affords an excuse for his violence. 
 The opposition were traitors, just as they had been in Henry 
 VHL's time. A criminal lawyer will tell you that it is hard 
 enough to get free out of the dock at the present day, no 
 matter how you got there in the first instance, and the 
 presumption of guilt was in the time of the Stuarts, and 
 later too, very strong against any who were caught. The 
 criticism frequently raised against the Tudor and Stuart 
 trials that they proceeded so cruelly on such slender evidence 
 
JUDGE JEFFREYS. 77 
 
 does not properly meet the case. The real evidence was 
 generally the whole life of the man on his trial. The 
 Government judged that he ought to be killed, and ordinary 
 men knew that as a main thing the Government ought to be 
 supported, and, finding the verdict, left the court to set out 
 the legal reasons, with which they had little to do. It is 
 obvious that in a period when such principles ruled the 
 instruments of Government must not be judged too harshly, 
 being in a large measure the instruments of the people. 
 The jury who found Baxter guilty were doubtless ordinary 
 citizens, and it won't do to say too often that these seven- 
 teenth-century juries were bullied into their verdicts. They 
 cannot all have been. A far more probable solution would 
 regard them as caring very little about the matter at all, 
 only perhaps thinking Baxter a nuisance. Nuisance or not, 
 his trial illustrates the stormy atmosphere of a Restoration 
 Court of Justice. 
 
 When James came to the throne he already knew the 
 value of Jeffreys, previously his Attorney-General. He be- 
 came a peer as Baron Jeffreys of Wem, and had a chance 
 of distinguishing himself in the trial of Gates, which is else- 
 where related in this book. 
 
 II. 
 
 If Jeffreys had died in June, 1685, he would have been 
 hardly heard of, or would have been known only as Shower, 
 Wilkins, Hawles, or Wright are known. He might have 
 been remembered by a few persons as the persecutor of 
 Baxter ; but he probably would not have been notorious. 
 
 But the Western Assize was at hand. In his Somerset- 
 shire progress, which Mr, Ewald has carefully traced, we 
 see a striking instance of the degeneration which comes of 
 opportunity. Monmouth landed in June, 1685, and all was 
 over in July, but Jeffreys was not sent out till August, when 
 the country was quiet. As his Elegy says : — 
 
 " 'Twas him the Popish party wisely chose 
 To splutter Law, and the dinned Rabble pose." 
 
7.8 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Not for the reason given, but because he had a cruel, deter- 
 mined heart, and, when he had chosen the stronger side, stuck 
 at nothing. On the circuit he was known as "The Lord 
 General Judge" because, as one of his biographers says, 
 " he went not only Judge, but had a Breviate under King 
 James's hand, to command what Troops he pleased to attend 
 his commands from place to place. And was Lieutenant- 
 General as well as Judge, and he gave daily the word, and 
 orders for going the rounds, &c., and ordered what party of 
 Troops he pleased to attend him." A curious incident is 
 recorded of this military progress, which well illustrates the 
 terror which was inspired : " 'Tis to be remembered that the 
 fellow called Tory Tom, at Wells, for his dirty sauciness 
 was sent to the guard by this Major (in command) ; when 
 presently this Tory Tom petitioned some persons to intercede 
 with the Major and sent the Major a letter, desiring his 
 liberty ; for that if he or any one should give Tory Tom an 
 ill word to Judge Jeffreys, the Judge would hang him right 
 or wrong with the rest of the prisoners." Such was the 
 spirit in which the gloomy cavalcade set out for Winchester. 
 With Jeffreys in the commission were William Montague, 
 a man of integrity, who was afterwards turned out for stand- 
 ing too stiff in the matter of the dispensing power, and 
 three puisne judges, one of whom was Sir Robert Wright, 
 a true butcher-bird, as Woolrych says, and one who had 
 been advanced by Jeffreys. The trial of Alice Lisle was the 
 only case at Winchester. Jeffreys had now impaired his 
 constitution by overworking and overdrinking, his originally 
 handsome features were becoming bloated and savage, 
 and, as his nerves were shattered, he required constant 
 stimulant. He was probably hard pushed in purse as well 
 as body, and seems to have regarded the assizes as a good 
 opportunity of repairing his fortunes. It is difficult to say, 
 of course, what bribery is nowadays, but at the close of the 
 seventeenth century, when judges were in the habit of taking 
 presents, it meant certainly less than it does now. 
 
 Lady Lisle was the widow of that John Lisle, of the 
 Council of State, who, after taking part in the Government 
 of the Commonwealth, fled to Switzerland at the Restora- 
 
JUDGE JEFFREYS. 79 
 
 tion. He was, on the loth of August, 1664, shot down at 
 Lausanne, as he was going to church, by two men in dis- 
 guise, carrying musquetoons. Lady Lisle had only afforded 
 common hospitality to two refugees from the insurrection ; 
 " both ill men enough indeed, and one in a proclamation." 
 Hicks, one of these two, was a Dissenting divine, and was 
 said to be brother to the Dean of Worcester, who, if the 
 story be true of his refusing to plead for his brother, was 
 not fond of the connection. The tale may have been fabricated. 
 It was very easy to prove that the men were traitors, but in 
 doing so it is noteworthy that almost all the questions were 
 put by Jeffreys in person ; some notable passages took 
 place. PoUexfen, who strangely figured as counsel for the 
 Crown, swore one James Dunne as a witness, and warned 
 Jeffreys at the time that he was unwilling. Hence, in the 
 course of examination, the following remarkable address was 
 delivered by the Lord Chief Justice : " Now mark what I 
 say to you, friend : I would not by any means in the world 
 endeavour to fright you into anything, or any ways tempt 
 you to tell an untruth, but provoke you to tell the truth, and 
 nothing but the truth — that is the business we come about 
 here. Know, friend, there is no religion that any man can 
 pretend to, can give a countenance to lying, or can dispense 
 with telling the truth ; thou hast a precious immortal soul, 
 and there is nothing in the world equal to it in value. There 
 is no relation to thy mistress, if she be so ; no relation to 
 thy friend; nay, to thy father and thy child; nay, not all the 
 temporal relations in the world can be equal to thy precious 
 immortal soul. Consider that the great God of heaven and 
 earth, before whose tribunal thou, and we, and all persons, 
 are to stand at the last day, will call thee to an account for 
 the rescinding His truth, and take vengeance of thee for 
 every falsehood thou tellest. I charge thee, therefore, as 
 thou wilt answer it to the great God, the Judge of all the 
 earth, that thou do not dare to waver one tittle from the 
 truth, upon any account or pretence whatsoever ; for though 
 it were to save thy life, yet the value of thy precious and 
 immortal soul is much greater, than that thou shouldst 
 forfeit it for the saving of any the most precious outward 
 
8o TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 blessing thou dost enjoy ; for that God of heaven may justly 
 strike thee into eternal flames, and make thee drop into the 
 bottomless lake of fire and brimstone, if thou offer to deviate 
 the least from the truth, and nothing but the truth. . . . For 
 I tell thee God is not to be mocked, and thou canst not 
 deceive Him, though thou mayst us. But I assure you, if 
 I catch you prevaricating in any the least tittle (and perhaps 
 I know more than you think I do ; no, none of your saints 
 can save your soul, nor shall they save your body neither) I 
 will be sure to punish every variation from the truth that 
 you are guilty of" Dunne was a man favourable to the rebels, 
 and had given them assistance, hence it was difficult to get 
 much out of him, and a long examination ensued. At one point 
 he contradicted himself. Jeffreys was down on him at once. 
 " How came you to be so impudent, then, as to tell me such 
 a lie?" "I beg your pardon, my Lord." "You beg my 
 pardon ! That is not because you told me a lie, but because 
 I have found you in a lie." The Judge, of course, laboured 
 hard to show the connection between Lady Lisle and the 
 rebels, and hence the evidence of Dunne was of some 
 importance, as he had brought Hicks and Nelthorp to the 
 house on the night in question. As the examination con- 
 tinued, and Dunne prevaricated more and more, Jeffreys 
 became more and more furious. His appeals to Heaven and 
 suggestions of future punishment grew more frequent. At 
 one time he turned almost in despair to the jury and said : 
 " What pains is a man at to get the truth out of these 
 fellows ! And it is with a great deal of labour, that we can 
 squeeze one drop out of them ! A Turk has more title to an 
 eternity of bliss than these pretenders to Christianity, for he 
 has more morality and honour in him." Later in the same 
 vein : " blessed God ! was there ever such a villain 
 upon the face of the earth ? " and again " I hope, gentle- 
 men of the jury, you take notice of the strange and horrible 
 carriage of this fellow ; and withal you cannot but observe 
 the spirit of that sort of people, what a villainous and 
 devilish one it is. Good God ! that ever the thing called 
 religion (a word that people have so much abused) should 
 ever wind up persons to such a height of impiety, that it 
 
JUDGE JEFFREYS. 8i 
 
 should make them lose the belief that there is a God of truth 
 in heaven. ... It may well make the rest of mankind, that 
 have any sort of faith in a Deity and a future life, abhor and 
 detest both the men and their religion, if such abominable 
 principles may be called so. A Turk is a saint to such a 
 fellow as this ; nay, a Pagan would be ashamed to be thought 
 to have no more truth in him. blessed Jesus ! what an 
 age do we live in, and what a generation of vipers do we 
 live among ! " and so forth. 
 
 In all this Jeffreys was carried away by passion, and over- 
 shot the mark. As Dunne said, he was " cluttered " out of 
 his senses. But in method Jeffreys was acting on an instinct 
 of his own, which seldom failed to effect its purpose. He 
 was talking the language of the man — the language of Non- 
 conformity. Dunne was made use of to prove the harbouring 
 of rebels, and, with the aid of Colonel Penruddock, who had 
 made the arrest, a case was made out to go to the jury. 
 The poor prisoner had small chance of explaining, and, as 
 she did not produce any relevant evidence, the summing up 
 was dead against her. A juryman asked the very pertinent 
 question whether she could be convicted of harbouring traitors 
 before they had been judicially decided to be such, received 
 the answer, undoubtedly a wrong answer, that such was 
 possible. It was on this technical ground that the subse- 
 quent reversal of the sentence was based. The jury retired, 
 and after some explanations by Jeffreys, found the prisoner 
 guilty, the Judge remarking when the sentence was re- 
 corded that he considered the evidence as full and plain 
 as could be, and that had he been among them, and the 
 prisoner his own mother, he should have found her guilty. 
 What Jeffreys meant when he advised her to use her pen 
 and paper well is not quite clear. It can hardly have been 
 an invitation to bribery, or it would have been given less 
 publicly. It more probably was meant to suggest that the 
 prisoner would gain by betraying others, and this view seems 
 most in accord with Jeffreys' often repeated assertion that the 
 Western Rebellion was throughout a plot of the Dissenters. 
 The King's business settled at Winchester, Jeffreys passed 
 on to Salisbury, but no one was executed there. Thence to 
 
 7 
 
82 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Dorchester, where he was observed to laugh ominously when 
 the preacher alluded to mercy in the assize sermon. A 
 violent charge to the jury succeeded, "so passionately 
 expressed as seemed rather the language of a Romish 
 Inquisitor than a Protestant Judge," after which the jury 
 found true bills against thirty prisoners for high treason 
 committed in aiding and abetting the Duke of Monmouth. 
 It did not matter much perhaps what the prisoners did, but 
 they made death certain by putting themselves on their trial, 
 Jeffreys having fairly warned them that " if the country 
 found them guilty they should have but little time to live." 
 Twenty-nine were condemned, sentence was pronounced, and 
 the warrant issued for their execution. This drastic method 
 was employed to save the trouble of trying the hundreds who 
 remained. Jeffreys may well have been anxious for haste. 
 He was tortured by the stone ; the court sat late as it was, 
 and if all had been fairly heard the trials would have taken 
 months. Thus he hoped that by trying on Saturday and 
 hanging on Monday a wholesome terror would be infused 
 throughout the West. It is to be feared also that direct 
 inducement was given to confession by agents of the Judge, 
 promises being made to the prisoners that in that direction 
 lay the only hope of mercy. The culprits were now either 
 intimidated or deceived, and business proceeded more rapidly. 
 Nearly three hundred were condemned to death, but of them 
 only seventy-four seem to have been executed. The rest 
 were punished in various ways, some being transported, 
 some fined, and others flogged. Jeffreys knew how to be 
 severe in the arrangement of the whippings ; but such was 
 the general terror that little notice was taken of anything 
 short of death. One Wiseman was ordered to be flogged in 
 every market-town in Dorset. 
 
 The whole countryside was now gloomy with men's quar- 
 ters swinging on the gibbets, and there was fear of much more 
 before the assizes were concluded. Jeffreys moved with his 
 cavalcade towards Exeter, and was everywhere surrounded 
 with suppliants, who begged mercy for their relatives waiting 
 the coming of the Lord Chief Justice in the gaols of Exeter 
 and Taunton. These he very rightly repulsed, but his 
 
JUDGE JEFFREYS. 83 
 
 method of treating them seems to have been rough. At 
 a gentleman's house where he was resting for the night a 
 broil arose among the Judge's servants, in the course of 
 which pistols were fired, giving him ground for supposing 
 that an assault upon his life had been intended. Probably he 
 was in pain also, but he had no excuse for promising the 
 people of the place that not a man from their district, if 
 convicted, should escape. 
 
 The Devonshire element in the rebellion was not large, 
 and, as one says, "here there was a little sparing." As a 
 matter of fact, the King's mercy was very generously exer- 
 cised at Exeter, if the " Western Martyrology " is to be 
 believed, as there were 243 prisoners and only 12 executions. 
 There was heavier work waiting in Somersetshire. Taunton 
 was crowded with prisoners who had been slowly hunted 
 down by bands of soldiers or captured on the field of battle. 
 Moreover, it was considered necessary to make an example 
 of the town which had been so eager to receive the ass in 
 the lion's skin. One hundred and thirty-four prisoners were 
 executed, 198 transported, and others of the 400 waiting 
 trial variously dealt with. So Mr. Ewald's careful state- 
 ment. The almost contemporary account which has come 
 down to us, though a little wild in its figures, is not without 
 a certain severity of language which suits the subject. 
 "Amongst these at Taunton were divers eminent persons 
 that had been taken in the West and carried to London^ 
 and brought down there to compleat the bloody tragedy in 
 those Parts : Mr. Parrot, Mr. Hewling the Elder, Mr. Lisle, 
 Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Hucker, and divers others were very emi- 
 nent. To take notice of every particular in this matter will 
 alter our Design, and swell the Book to too great a bulk, 
 being only designed for a pocket companion, and useful it 
 may be to see the cruelty of men when in their Power, and 
 how the Devil stirreth up his Instruments, to pursue those 
 that adventure for the Cause of God and Religion. Here 
 were in this country executed 239. The rest that were con- 
 demned were transported, except such as were able to furnish 
 coin, and that not a little ; for an account was taken of men's 
 abilities, according to which the purchase for life must be 
 
84 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 managed by two of his (Jeffreys') favourites, who had a small 
 share, the rest went into his Lordship's pocket ; according 
 to the actions of Rome where sins of any kind may be par- • 
 doned for money. This indeed was a glorious design in the 
 eye of Mother Church, to root out heresies by executions and 
 transportations, to make room for a pack ; here expedition 
 must be made to conclude at Wells ; For that a great man 
 being fallen, our great Judge designing his chair, which in 
 short he had, as the reward of so eminent and extraordinary 
 a piece of service as he did for the advancement of the 
 Roman Catholic interest which is cruel always where it 
 prevails." The story of the girl's death from fright of Jeffreys 
 may or may not be true, but she died at Taunton, and was 
 one of those who had helped to work Monmouth's banner. 
 
 Dreadful scenes were enacted at Wells, where Ken did 
 his best^for the prisoners. The total number of deaths was 
 not great, however, for a great rebellion. It was rather the 
 suddenness of the thing — the fact of its being confined to so 
 small an area — that produced such an impression. Jeffreys 
 once asked an officer how many the soldiers had killed, and 
 was told a thousand. "I believe," he reflected, "I have 
 condemned as many as that myself." The real reason for 
 the move to Wells lay in the fact that the accommodation 
 for prisoners at Taunton would not allow of any further 
 addition to the number of those waiting punishment. 
 Many were accordingly taken to Wells in carts, and ninety- 
 five suffered there the extreme penalty of the law. 
 
 At Bristol there were many who sympathised with the 
 rebellion, but who had been kept in check by those of the 
 King's party. Hence very few were executed. The fame 
 of the Judge General had gone out before him, and he was 
 received with great state and ceremony by the magistrates, 
 in spite of the fact that he had slighted them by putting his 
 name before that of the mayor in the commission, and that 
 he viewed the corporation with anything but favour. When 
 he saw the preparations which had been made he merely 
 said, " Lord, we have been used to these things," and pro- 
 ceeded with his charge to the grand jury. Beginning with 
 an allusion to the excitement of the townspeople, he said, 
 
JUDGE JEFFRE YS. 8 5 
 
 " Gentlemen, I find here are a great many auditors, who are 
 very intent as if they expected some formal or prepared 
 speech, but assure your selves, we come not neither to make 
 set speeches, nor formal Declamations, nor follow a couple 
 of puffing Trumpeters ; for Lord we have seen those things 
 Twenty times before : No, we come to do the King's Busi- 
 ness. But," he went on, " I find a Special Commission is 
 an unusual Thing here and relishes very ill ; nay the very 
 women storm at it, for fear we should take the upper hand 
 with them too ; for by the by, gentlemen, I hear it is much 
 in fashion in this city for the women to govern and bear 
 sway." He then turned to subjects which made every heart 
 beat faster. Speaking, as he said, not "in so smooth lan- 
 guage as you may expect," owing " partly to the pain of the 
 stone under which I labour, and partly to the unevenness of 
 this day's journey." Who cannot see the prematurely old 
 man with savage and bloodshot eyes, pulling himself together 
 to do his best for his employers, his mouth twitching with 
 pain, and pouring out a rough, ferocious eloquence of which 
 the trembling audience felt every word ? " Good God ! O 
 Jesu ! That we should live in such an age." " Had we not 
 the Rye Conspiracy wherein they not only designed to have 
 murthered that most blessed (for so now we may conclude 
 him to be with God Almighty) prince ? " " Had we not the 
 Bill of Exclusion ? " " Had we not the cursed Counsel of 
 Achitophel? Great God of Heaven and Earth ! what reason 
 have men to rebel ? but as I told you. Rebellion is like the 
 sin of Witchcraft ; Fear God, and. Honour the King, is re- 
 jected by people for no other reason, as I can find, but that 
 it is written in St. Peter. Gentlemen, I must tell you, I am 
 afraid that this city hath too many of these people in it. 
 And it is your duty to search them out : For this City added 
 much to that ship's Loading ; there was your Tylys, your 
 Roes and your Wades, men started up like mushrooms, 
 scoundrel fellows, mere sons of Dunghills : these men must 
 forsooth set up for liberty and property. A fellow that carries 
 the sword before Mr. Mayor, must be very careful of his 
 property, and turn Politician, as if he had as much property 
 as the person before whom he bears the sword ; though per- 
 
86 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 chance not worth a grote. Gentlemen, I must tell you, you 
 have still here the Tylys, the Roes, and the Wades : I have 
 brought a brush in my pocket, and I shall be sure to rub 
 the dirt wherever it lies, or on whomsoever it sticks. 
 Gentlemen, I shall not stand complimenting with you, I 
 shall talk with some of you before you and I part : I tell 
 you — I tell you, I have brought a besom and I will sweep 
 every man's door, whether great or small." The King's 
 cause was well served in Bristol, but there must have been 
 a party there for the enemy, as a signal had been made to 
 them from the river. There were too many trimmers in the 
 city. " These men stink worse than the worst dirt you have 
 in your city; these men have so little religion, that they 
 forget that he that is not for us is against us. Gentlemen, I 
 tell you, I have the Calendar of this City here in my hand ; I 
 have heard of those that have searched into the very sink of 
 a conventicle to find out some sneaking rascal to hide their 
 money by night. Come, come, gentlemen, to be plain with 
 you, I find the dirt of the ditch is in your nostrils. Good 
 God! Where am I ? In Bristol? This City, it seems, 
 claims the privilege of hanging and drawing amongst them- 
 selves : I find you have more need of a commission once a 
 month at least." And more to the same purpose, reading 
 oddly enough now, but pregnant with meaning enough then. 
 If some of the corporation could have been caught it would 
 have been a valuable take, but this was impossible, and only 
 three persons were executed. 
 
 Jeffreys now returned homewards, and as part of his reward 
 received the right to ransom Pridaux, who had to pay £15,000. 
 With this and other moneys similarly collected he began 
 to buy land. The bloody assize was over, and he had little 
 time to take stock of his gains, both in Court credit and 
 current coin. He was destined without delay to achieve 
 the single step that severed him from the summit of his 
 profession. A new sphere of activity opened out before him. 
 
 III. 
 
 Jeffreys became Lord Chancellor in September, 1685, 
 
JUDGE JEFFREYS. 87 
 
 being then only thirty-seven years of age. One of his first 
 offices was to meddle in the affair of Francis, the murderer 
 of Dangerfield. In securing his hanging, from whatever 
 motive it may have been done, he certainly avenged a most 
 brutal and cowardly outrage ; so that we need have no 
 quarrel with Jeffreys for hanging Francis. The contem- 
 porary account says of this curious incident that, after 
 Dangerfield had been flogged, "in his return home, one 
 Francis stabbed him into the eye with a sort of a tuck in the 
 end of his cane, which touching his brain, he was hardly 
 ever sensible after, but died of the wound in a few hours, not 
 without great suspicion of poison, his body being swoln and 
 black and full of great blains all over. The murderer fled, 
 but was pursued by the rabble, who had torn him to pieces, 
 had not the officers rescued him. He defended and justified 
 the fact whilst in Newgate, saying, He had the greatest men 
 in the kingdom to stand by him ; to whom after his trial, 
 and being found guilty upon clear evidence, great applica- 
 tions were made, which had been successful for his pardon 
 had not Jefi'reys himself gone to Whitehall, and told the 
 King he must die, for the rabble were now thoroughly 
 heated. Attempts were made to bribe Mr. Dangerfield's 
 wife, that she might consent to the pardon of her husband's 
 murderer ; but she too well deserved to be related to him, 
 to sell his blood." All of which surely redounds to the 
 credit of the Chancellor : the attempt of a friend to narrate 
 the events in verse cannot be said to be altogether suc- 
 cessful : — 
 
 " Such marks he wore, as Scythians ne'er invent, 
 At which all but a Francis would relent. 
 He Hell and his great Master does invoke. 
 Then with a generous fury gives the stroke. 
 Wretch well thou aimdst, too well thoust struck his head, 
 Thoust pierced his eye, or else he'd looked thee dead." 
 
 It took the Chancellor some time to accustom himself to 
 his new position. He was very powerful, and used his 
 power carelessly. At one time he was able to snub Sir 
 Thomas Jones, who had incurred his hatred by getting the 
 
88 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 headship of the Court of Common Pleas which Jeffreys 
 would have preferred himself. In the King's Speech at the 
 ensuing opening of Parliament there were many unconstitu- 
 tional admissions, and on the consideration of them Jeffreys 
 adopted the fashions of Hicks's Hall for the moment ; he 
 was, however, humiliated and his proposals neglected. 
 This may have taught him caution. In the trial of Henry 
 Booth, Lord Delamere (who had once called Jeffreys a Jack- 
 pudding), for high treason, Jeffreys was nominated High 
 Steward and behaved quietly enough. 
 
 Jeffreys was at first willing to go the whole hog with his 
 master, and accordingly was placed upon the Ecclesiastical 
 Commission. He became necessary to its sittings indeed, 
 and soon was busy enough in the affair of Dr. Sharp, 
 rector of St. Giles, known as the railing parson. Sharp 
 was very hot against the Papists, and in August, 1686, 
 the King sent to his bishop, Compton, to request him 
 to suspend the rector on account of one of his contro- 
 versial sermons. This the bishop very reasonably declined 
 to do, and was himself in consequence suspended. In this 
 matter Jeffreys went straight to the point : " Why did you 
 not obey the King ? " Compton remained suspended until, 
 as was said, " all the great rough riders were unhorsed," but 
 his temporalities were not interfered with. 
 
 As an Equity Judge Jeffreys held his court at Dr. Shep- 
 herd's Chapel, in Duke Street, Westminster. He had a 
 house looking into St. James's Park, and one Pitt, an un- 
 fortunate bookseller of a speculative turn, put up a new 
 court for him and enlarged his house on the promise of a 
 grant of land which he never obtained. The house was 
 afterwards inhabited by the Dutch ambassadors who came 
 to congratulate William on his accession, and later became 
 the Admiralty office. 
 
 Some personal notes of Jeffreys flow from the pen of one 
 who, as Johnson would say, was no careless observer of the 
 passages of those times. " His friendship and conversation, 
 lay much among the good fellows and humorists ; and his 
 delights were accordingly drinking, laughing, singing, kissing, 
 and all the extravagances of the bottle. He had a set of 
 
JUDGE JEFFREYS. 89 
 
 banterers, for the most part, near him ; as in old time great 
 men kept fools to make them merry. And these fellows 
 abusing one another and their betters, were a regale to him. 
 And no friendship or dearness could be so great in private 
 which he would not use ill, and to an extravagant degree in 
 public. No one that had any expectations from him was 
 safe from his public contempt and derision which some of 
 his minions at the Bar bitterly felt. Those above, or that 
 could hurt or benefit him, and none else, might depend on 
 fair quarter at his hands. When he was in temper and 
 matters indifferent came before him, he became his seat of 
 justice better than any other I ever saw in his place. He 
 took a pleasure in mortifying fraudulent attorneys, and 
 would deal forth his severities with a sort of majesty. He 
 had extraordinary natural abilities, but little acquired beyond 
 what practice in affairs had supplied. He talked fluently 
 and with spirit; and his weakness was that he could not 
 reprehend without scolding ; and in such Billingsgate 
 language as should not come out of the mouth of any man. 
 He called it ' giving a lick with the rough side of his 
 tongue.' It was ordinary to hear him say, ' Go ; you are a 
 filthy, lousy, knitty rascal ! ' with much more of like 
 elegance. Scarce a day passed that he did not chide some 
 one or other of the Bar when he sat in the Chancery ; and it 
 was commonly a lecture of a quarter of an hour long. And 
 they used to say, ' This is yours ; my turn will be to- 
 morrow.' He seemed to lay nothing of his business to 
 heart, nor care what he did or left undone ; and spent in the 
 Chancery Court what time he thought fit to spare. Many 
 times on days of causes at his house, the company have 
 waited five hours in a morning, and after eleven he hath 
 come out inflamed and staring like one distracted. And 
 that visage he put on when he animadverted on such as he 
 took offence at, which made him a terror to real offenders ; 
 whom also he terrified, with his face and voice, as if the 
 thunder of the day of judgment broke over their heads; 
 and nothing ever made men tremble like his vocal inflic- 
 tions. He loved to insult, and was bold without check; 
 but that only when his place was uppermost. To give an 
 
90 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 instance. A City attorney was petitioned against for some 
 abuse ; and affidavit was made that when he was told of my 
 Lord Chancellor, ' My Lord Chancellor,' said he, ' I made 
 him ; ' meaning his being a means to bring him early into 
 City business. When this affidavit was read, ' Well,' said 
 the Lord Chancellor, 'then I will lay my maker by the 
 heels.' And with that conceipt one of his best old friends 
 went to goal. . . . But this Lord Jeffreys came to the seal 
 without any concern at the weight of duty incumbent upon 
 him ; for at the first being merry over a bottle with some of 
 his old friends, one of them told him that he would find the 
 business heavy. 'No,' said he, I'll make it light.' But, 
 to conclude with a strange inconsistency, he would drink 
 and be merry, kin and slaver, with these boon companions 
 overnight, as the way of such is, and the next day fall upon 
 them ranting and scolding with a virulence insufferable." 
 
 So he continued during James's short reign, doing his best 
 for the King's own foolish projects, persuading the judges in 
 1687 to agree to support the dispensing power and acting 
 as chief agent, though no Papist himself, in coercing the 
 Universities. At Cambridge James strove to free the 
 Roman Catholics from disability in the person of one 
 Alban Francis, a Benedictine monk. On February 7, 1687, 
 a royal letter commanded the University to admit him to 
 the degree of M.A. without any oath being administered, 
 any statute to the contrary notwithstanding. The King, in 
 fact, dispensed with the opposing Acts of Parliament in 
 Francis's favour. The University stuck by their oaths, 
 though the vice-chancellor. Dr. Peachell, was but a timid 
 man, and they wisely wrote to Albemarle, their chancellor, 
 on the whole matter. The next step of importance was the 
 appearance of the vice-chancellor and representatives from 
 the senate before the Ecclesiastical Commission; amongst 
 those who came up from Cambridge being Newton. Jeffreys 
 was just the man for Peachell, and caught him tripping in 
 no time. " The Lords took notice that you allege an oath ; 
 that oath, it seems, hindered you from obeying the King's 
 mandate. Pray what was the oath ? " " My Lord, this is 
 a new question . . . and I beg leave and time to answer it." 
 
JUDGE JEFFRE YS. 9 1 
 
 *'Why, Mr. Vice-Chancellor, this requires no time," &c. 
 Dr. Cook, one of the civilians, wished to help the bewildered 
 Peachell, but was kept out of the discussion; good- 
 humouredly, however. But when the vice-chancellor re- 
 covered a little, he had the best of the argument, for the 
 Court case of one Lightfoot would not hold water when 
 examined. The end of the business was that Peachell was 
 suspended. 
 
 At Oxford there was more at stake, and the contest was 
 more severe. The presidentship of Magdalen was vacant, 
 and would have been an influential positionsecured, if James 
 could have carried his man, Anthony Farmer. The fellows, 
 however, would have none of him, his life being scandalous 
 and he otherwise deficient, and decided on Hough. Farmer, 
 when examined closely, would not bear the light, and hence 
 the Court party did not insist further on him, but they 
 deprived Hough in favour of Parker, a Papist, who was put 
 in possession by force. In all this Jeffreys bore a main part, 
 noisily inveighing against the fellows whom he somewhat 
 roughly treated. In the course of his dispute with them he 
 called Henry Fairfax a madman, and said that he ought to 
 be kept in a dark room. Osmond, the chancellor, dying, 
 Jeffreys would undoubtedly have been put in his place but 
 for the celerity of the University in preferring another. 
 There were, it seems, designs at the time on other founda- 
 tions in favour of the Papists, notably the Charterhouse, 
 where on an election Jeffreys received such a rebuff that he 
 " flung away " in a rage and the place was left in peace. 
 
 Had James lasted longer Jeffreys would have been pushed 
 out by his cousin, Sir John Trevor, a man of quite as much 
 natural ability and quite as little heart as the Chancellor, but 
 a man of much more self-control. Just before the fall of 
 the Stuarts James seems to have designed an earldom for 
 Jeffreys. He is called Earl of Flint on the engraved portrait 
 by Cooper, after iSir G. Kneller, a reproduction of which 
 appears in this volume. But it is very doubtful whether the 
 earldom was ever given; doubtful in itself the more, because, 
 at the end of the reign, Jeffreys did all he could to check the 
 Romish policy of his master. He objected to the embassy 
 
92 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 of Castlemaine, but was temporarily restored to favour on 
 the quarrel between Rome and France. His part became 
 more arid more difficult to play. He had to bring pressure 
 to bear on the seven bishops whilst really disapproving of 
 the whole business. A story that he favoured Lord Pem- 
 broke's heiress in a lawsuit and that she afterwards married 
 his son belongs to this period. 
 
 " Old Tyburn must groan 
 For Jeffreys is known 
 To have perjured his conscience to marry his son." 
 
 But it seems that no blame attached to Jeffreys at all, and 
 that he decided quite justly on the points of law raised. It 
 is notable, as his biographer confesses, to remember how little 
 of what Jeffreys established was afterwards upset. 
 
 We find the Chancellor as a witness at the birth of the Old 
 Pretender. He now knew how serious things were becoming, 
 and urged the calling of a Parliament. He also advised the 
 restoration of the City charter, but when he went in state to 
 deliver it to the aldermen he met with a very ill reception. 
 
 James now vanishes, weakly reviling the man to whom he 
 owed so much. Just before the king's flight the seal was 
 taken from Jeffreys, and his life was not safe for an instant. 
 He had made a very true jest at his own expense when the 
 Prince of Orange's Declaration was issued ; being asked what 
 were its heads he answered that " he was sure his was one." 
 Such was the general hatred which his name inspired that 
 James got a good deal of credit for leaving him behind. 
 
 He was living in Father Petre's lodgings at Whitehall. 
 Hurrying thence he disguised himself as a sailor, and hoped 
 to pass by a coal ship to Hamburg. The mate giving 
 information, a warrant was applied for, and on its refusal the 
 mob hurried back to the ship. Jeffreys had, however, 
 changed into another ship, and in the morning had gone on 
 shore to drink ale at the " Red Cow," in Anchor and Hope 
 Alley, near King Edward's stairs. Here he was discovered 
 under singular circumstances. Long before, " there was 
 a scrivener of Wapping brought to hearing for relief 
 
jW 
 
 
 £ri^c/:-?r/Mi VtjY [Otit 
 
 
 
 , "•'"'^'■M 
 
 JEFFREYS TAKEN DISGUISED AT WAPPING. 
 
JUDGE JEFFREYS. 93 
 
 against a bummery bond ; the contingency of losing all 
 being shewed, the bill was going to be dismissed. But one 
 of the plaintiff's counsel said that he was a strange fellow, 
 and sometimes went to church, sometimes to conventicles ; 
 and none could tell what to make of him ; and ' it was 
 thought he was a trimmer.' At that the Chancellor fired ; 
 and ' A trimmer ! ' said he ; ' I have heard much of that 
 monster, but never saw one. Come forth, Mr. Trimmer, 
 turn you round and let us see your shape,' and at that rate 
 talked so long that the poor fellow was ready to drop under 
 him ; but at last, the bill was dismissed with costs, and he 
 went his way. In the hall one of his friends asked him how 
 he came off? 'Came off?' said he ; ' I am escaped from 
 the terrors of that man's face, which I would scarce undergo 
 again to save my life ; and I shall certainly have the fright- 
 ful impression of it as long as I live.' " 
 
 This scrivener happened to come into the cellar at the 
 " Red Cow " on the morning of the 12th of Deceniber, 
 1688, in quest of some of his clients ; his eyes caught that 
 face which made him start ; and the Chancellor, seeing him- 
 self eyed, feigned a cough, and turned to the wall with his 
 pot in his hand. But Mr. Trimmer went out and gave 
 notice that he was there ; whereupon the mob flowed in and 
 he was in extreme hazard of his life ; the Lord Mayor, how- 
 ever, saved him and lost himself. For the Chancellor " being 
 hurried with such crowd and noise before him, and appearing 
 now so dismally not only disguised but disordered, and there 
 having been an amity betwixt them, as also a veneration on 
 the Lord Mayor's part, he had not spirits to sustain the 
 shock but fell down in a swoon; and, in not many hours 
 after, died." It was indeed a strange sight — 
 
 " He took a collier's coat to sea to go ; 
 Was ever Chancellor arrayed so ? " 
 
 To get safe into gaol Jeffreys had to assist the trembling 
 Mayor in drawing up the warrant for his own commitment. 
 At his own request he was taken to the Tower in charge of 
 two regiments of train bands. He was refused bail, and 
 examined by a Commission of Lords ; but there was little 
 
94 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 to be done with or to him. Unused to confinement, "his 
 chronical indispositions, the stone, &c., increased very fast 
 upon him. The ingenious Dr. Lower was his physician." 
 Dr. Scott, who visited him, could get no confession from him 
 of severity on the Western assize, he stoutly asserting what 
 was doubtless true enough, that he had come far short of 
 what James wished. 
 
 The last days of Jeffreys, long drawn out by Macaulay, are 
 rich in melodramatic material. The visit of his old victim, 
 Tutchin, the present of the oyster barrel containing a halter, 
 the visitations of the Dean of Norwich and Dr. Scott, 
 Prebendary of St. Paul's, the curses of the mob, and the 
 prisoner's exclusive devotion to the brandy bottle have 
 been rendered familiar. The state of popular feeling pre- 
 cluded all hope, though Jeffreys approached William 
 diplomatically with an acknowledgment that " his crimes 
 were as numerous as his enemies," and a promise to 
 discover secrets. The street poets had computed with 
 " cannibal ferocity " how many steaks might be cut from his 
 well-fattened carcass, but under the combined influence of 
 spirits, disease, and prison walls, the ex-Lord Chancellor 
 became almost a skeleton. A little more than four months 
 after his capture, on April i8, 1689, he died in prison in the 
 forty-first year of his age. The French Jacobites asserted 
 with conviction that he had been poisoned by William. 
 His corpse was laid next that of Monmouth in the chapel of 
 the Tower. 
 
 Few will be left to dispute Jeffreys' claim to a place in 
 this collection, though many might agree with Mr. Leslie 
 Stephen when in his judicious essay on " The State Trials," 
 he writes : " If ever I were to try my hand at the historical 
 amusement of whitewashing, I should be tempted to take 
 for my hero the infamous Jeffreys. He was, I daresay, as 
 bad as he is painted ; so perhaps were Nero and Richard 
 IIL, and other much-abused persons; but no miscreant of 
 them all could be more amusing. With all his inexpressible 
 brutality, his buffoonery, his baseness, we can see that he 
 was a man of remarkable talent. Wherever the name of 
 Jeffreys appears we may be certain of good sport." 
 
rtB WiTus Oa tes. W^ 
 
 L^r 
 
 iiS -TzSTis OvAT 
 
 ^_ , ^..^ iliiiiilililllilliiiiilllillllliiiiiliiiliM^^^ 
 
 TliLs ts the, tf~ue, 0-t~t^uicL'L l>cLL(L-ih Ji-om, i/le, ^ifc- 
 
 TITUS GATES. 
 
TITUS GATES. 
 
 (1649-1705.) 
 
 " What reward shall be given or done unto thee, thou false tongue ? 
 Even mighty and sharp arrows, with hot burning coals." 
 
 Psalm cxx. 3. 
 
 I. 
 
 IT is painful for a native of the county to have to record 
 that Dates was of Norfolk origin. His father, Samuel 
 Gates, in spite of the almost universally current belief that he 
 was "a poor ignorant fantastic ribbon-weaver," seems in 
 reality to have been a son of the rector of Marsham, in 
 Norfolk. Samuel was born at Marsham on November i8th, 
 1610, admitted a sizar of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, 
 on July 1st, 1627, was created Master of Arts in 1634, and 
 ordained by the Bishop of Norwich on September 24th, 1635. 
 A characteristic of the Gates family was the ease with which 
 its members revolved upon well-oiled pivots. With the ad- 
 vance of the Puritan frenzy Samuel appears to have simul- 
 taneously contemplated matrimony and turned Anabaptist. 
 The coincidence must be left for psychology to work out. 
 He seems to have married about 1645, but the mother of 
 Titus still retains her incognito. Dr. Jessopp feels con- 
 strained to express a hope that the poor woman died early. 
 This, however, was not the case. During the year 1680, 
 when Titus was at the zenith of his glory, we are assured 
 
96 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 by Roger North in his " Examen " that the liar's mother 
 came to him and related to him a dream that had tormented 
 her.' The dream, or rather nightmare, was to the effect that 
 she was with child of the devil, and was agonised by the 
 pangs of birth. And, having told her story, the good 
 woman shook her head sadly, and remarked with signifi- 
 cance that she did not like the way her son was in. 
 Beside the fact that, as late as 1697, Titus spoke of his 
 " aged mother " as still existing, this is all we know con- 
 cerning Mrs. Oates — the subject of numerous jests not more 
 pleasing than indelicate. 
 
 With the liar's other parent it is otherwise. Having 
 turned Anabaptist, he was sent out as " a Dipper " into 
 the shires, then into Surrey and Sussex, and in 1646 
 into Essex, and, more particularly, the parts about Bock- 
 ing and Braintree. Edwards describes him and his doings 
 in his Gangraena. " This is a young and lusty fellow, 
 and hath traded chiefly with young women and young 
 maids, dipping many of them (and using them in private 
 more familiar), though all is fish that comes to his net. 
 ... A goodly minister of Essex coming out of those 
 parts related he hath baptized a great number of women, 
 and that they were called out of their beds to go 
 a-dipping in rivers — many of them in the night — so that 
 their husbands and masters could not keep them in their 
 houses : for these offices he got ten shillings a-piece." In 
 March, 1646, a young woman named Anne Martin, actually 
 succumbed to this regenerating zeal, with the result that the 
 Dipper was bound over to the Sessions at Chelmsford, to be 
 held in April, 1646, and committed to Colchester gaol. 
 
 The Dipper's chief doctrine appears to have been that 
 the saints were a free people. This he made manifest by 
 the solemn warning to the Parliament which he launched 
 from his prison. They had better be careful, he threatened 
 with characteristic assurance, not to "cart the ark" nor 
 otherwise meddle with the saints, himself and followers. 
 The latter, according to Edwards, were mainly composed 
 of avowed drunkards and whoremongers. Yet so great was 
 the fellow's vogue, that, while in Colchester gaol, "there 
 
TITUS OATES. 97 
 
 was great and mightie resorte to him, many coming down 
 in coaches from London to visit him." He was finally 
 acquitted, and next appeared at Dunmow in Essex. Here, 
 however, the Dipper's fame had preceded him, and his 
 expected victims, reversing the usual order of proceedings, 
 threw him without ceremony into the Chelmer; nor was 
 he permitted to emerge from the baptismal stream until 
 effectually encrusted with Chelmer ooze and mud, to the 
 peculiarly adhesive character of which the present writer 
 can testify. Surfeited with dipping, Samuel turned his 
 attention to education. He served usher for abbreviated 
 periods at a succession of schools, and was still occupied 
 ■ in fathoming the possibilities of the profession when Titus 
 was born at Oakham in 1649. As chaplain to Colonel 
 Pride and his regiment — a post which he obtained probably 
 in the course of the next year — Samuel became a man of 
 no little importance, and doubtless added largely to his 
 already curious store of experience. Here again, however, 
 his theory and practice with reference to that immunity 
 of the saints, of which he was so firmly convinced, led 
 him into conflict with the authorities, and, in December, 
 1654, he was arrested by Monck while in Scotland for 
 " stirring up sedition in the army." He seems to have 
 adopted a vagrant life until the Restoration, when he 
 promptly saw the error of his ways, returned to the bosom 
 of the Established Church and was, in 1666, presented by 
 Sir Richard Barker to the Rectory of All Saints, Hastings. 
 Here he was a party to some most disgraceful proceedings, 
 in which, however, his son Titus had the principal share ; 
 and he was in consequence outed from his living, drifted to 
 London and lived " sculking about Bloomsbury." It is only 
 right to mention here that Crosby in his " History of the 
 Baptists " credits him with a conscience (which smote him 
 at this juncture), stating that he left his living and returned 
 to the Baptists of his own accord. If so, his senile pre- 
 dilection for the Baptist Communion offers a curious analogy 
 to that professed by his son in his later days. Fond and 
 frolicsome memories may have clustered round the old 
 dipping days, from which the lapse of years had effaced 
 
98 TWELVE BAD MEA. 
 
 all recollection of Dunmow. That the old rascal was in 
 need of a new birth is only too apparent. But here we 
 must leave him.^ 
 
 The king of liars was born at Oakham, as has been 
 mentioned, in 1649. Though he is stated by more than 
 one writer to have had a brother, William, who achieved 
 some distinction as a horse-stealer, it is more probable 
 that he was an only as he was an unique child. His 
 anxious parent procured his admission as a free scholar 
 to Merchant Taylors' School in June, 1665. 
 
 Of the many distinguished alumni of Merchant Taylors, 
 few, if any, have shown earlier promise. In his very lirst 
 term he is alleged to have cheated the authorities of his 
 entrance money. In the school register a contemporary 
 MS. note describes him as " The Saviour of the Nation, 
 first discoverer of that damnable helHsh plot in 1678." 
 But so frail was Titus's tenure of good report, that a slightly 
 later addition is to the effect, " Perjured upon record and 
 a scoundrel fellow." He " had to leave " Merchant 
 Taylors in about a year and went to Sedlescombe 
 School, near Hastings, whence he passed as a "poor 
 scholar " to Gonville and Gains College, Cambridge, on the 
 zgth of June, 1667. Here is an example curiously overlooked 
 by Macaulay, in which the advantage is, as usual, on the 
 side of the less ancient and less splendid foundation. 
 Oxford cannot boast of a Titus Oates among her alumni. 
 " By the same token," says Adam Elliot, "the plague and 
 he visited Cambridge at the same time." 
 
 It can hardly have been misfortune which rendered Titus 
 such a constant bird of passage. Early in 1669 he passed once 
 more to St. John's College, where his father, now in full 
 flush of Anglican zeal, most carefully sought out an Arminian 
 tutor for him. This tutor was Dr. Thomas Watson, who had 
 been fellow of St. John's since 1660. In 1687 Dr. Watson 
 
 ' He died on February 6, 1683. See Wood's "Life and Times," 
 1894, vol. iii. p. 36 j cf. Additional Manuscript, No. 5860, fol. 
 288, in the British Museum (a paper on this worthy subject by the 
 learned Dr. Zachary Grey). 
 
TITUS OATES. 99 
 
 was consecrated Bishop of St. Davids, but in 1696 (signi- 
 ficant fact), he was deprived for simony. Having been 
 already " spewed out " of Caius, Oates's " malignant 
 spirit of railing and scandal was no less obnoxious to 
 the society of St. John's." From St. John's College 
 (admirable for its archives) we have the following report 
 of him : " He was a liar from the beginning. He stole 
 from and cheated his taylor of a gown, which he denied 
 with horrid imprecations ; and afterwards at a communion, 
 being admonished and advised by his tutor, confessed the 
 fact. . . . Dr. T. W. does not charge him with much 
 immorality, but says he was a great dunce, that he ran 
 into debt, and, being sent away for want of money, never 
 took a degree." ^ Yet he seems to have made some friends, 
 and, after one or more failures, contrived to "slip into 
 orders" in the Established Church, being instituted to the 
 vicarage of Bobbing, in Kent, on March 7, 1672-3, on the 
 presentation of George Moore.^ 
 
 In appearance the liar had grown up plausibly solid. 
 His face was large, flat, and oval, with a portentous chin, 
 his mouth " standing exactly in the middle of his face 
 like the white in the centre of a target." In none of the 
 contemporary, or nearly contemporary, portraits is this 
 feature less pronounced than in the one which, on general 
 grounds, we have selected for reproduction. " He has the 
 largest chin of any gentleman in Europe," says Tom 
 Brown, who called on him one day in Axe Yard ; " by the 
 same token they tell a merry story how he cheated a 
 twopenny barber, by hiding it under his cloak." His 
 nose was long and peaked ; his periwig he wore fair 
 and woolly. " Pray, what is the reason," said Charles 
 II. one afternoon at the theatre, " that we never see a 
 rogue in a play, but odds fish ! they always clap him on 
 a black periwig, when it is well known that one of the 
 greatest rogues in England always wears a fair one ? " 
 Macaulay's picturesque description of Oates's hideous 
 features, " his short neck, his legs uneven, the vulgar 
 
 ' Baker MSS. ^ Reg. Sheldon, Archiep. Cantuar^g3-4. 
 
100 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 said, as those of a badger, his forehead low as that of 
 a baboon, his purple cheeks, and his monstrous length of 
 chin," is well known. More picturesque still is the portrait 
 given in the pamphlet entitled, " A Hue and Cry after Dr. 
 Gates" which was published in 1681, and must be given 
 in its proper place. It is sufficiently manifest both from 
 what has been said and what left unsaid, that much of 
 the savage and still more of the beast lurked in Titus. 
 He was coarse and gross in his animal constitution ; though 
 short of stature he yet had the chest and neck of a tall 
 man, and doubtless enjoyed that powerful circulation which 
 is conducive to rapid action but not to sustained thought. 
 So well was his demeanour suited to the part he had to 
 play, that to men not deficient in observation he appeared 
 choleric, impetuous, and even rashly confiding. He affected 
 to be open in manner and genial in converse. He made 
 friends as well as dupes among the unwary, and drew to 
 himself kindred spirits. 
 
 The possessor of these graces of manner and person did 
 not remain long at Bobbing, in Kent, Before the end of 
 1674 he obtained a license for non-residence, and shortly 
 afterwards left the place. He went on a visit to his parent 
 in the adjoining county of Sussex, and seems to have offi- 
 ciated for a short period at the parish church at Hastings. 
 A settled life did not suit him ; he had to leave Hastings in 
 company with his father, in a very hurried manner and in 
 the worst possible odour. What occurred was, very briefly, 
 as follows : William Parker, son of the governer of the port, 
 and keeper of a school in the little town of Hastings, had 
 prudently denied to Titus all access to the youth confided 
 to his care. His suspicions were very properly resented 
 by the liar, who proceeded to bring the most infamous 
 charges against the usher. His evidence was of such a 
 character as will scarce bear reproduction, save in the 
 " Proceedings" of a very learned society,' but it shows even 
 thus early the master hand of Titus, punctuating his lies 
 with startling and irrelevant detail. Oates's prestige as an 
 
 ' See Anthony k Wood's "Life and Times " in the Oxford Historical 
 Society's Publications (vol. ii. p. 417) ; cf. MS. Ballard LXX. fol. 55. 
 
TITUS OATES. loi 
 
 accuser, however, had yet to be established ; Parker was found 
 not guilty, and forthwith caused " Tytus " to be arrested 
 in an action for £i,ooo damages. And the liar, not find- 
 ing bail, was thrown without ceremony into the lock-up 
 at Hastings, pending his removal to Dover gaol. The 
 Dover people weakly allowed him to escape, and he 
 found his way to London and hid in one of the burrows 
 about Gunpowder Alley — a famous hiding-place for diffident 
 people — Jesuits, debtors, spies, informers, and others. He 
 is said now to have taken his first trip across the water. 
 It is certain that, after these events, he for a short 
 time took up his permanent abode upon it. He managed, 
 it seems, to get nominated chaplain on board a King's ship, 
 a post which in those days was a base and dishonoured 
 one. Until well on in the eighteenth century, the idea 
 that its occupants should claim the title of gentlemen 
 was held to be little less than monstrous. The hedge 
 parsons, who filled it, were ordinarily men of ill repute, 
 who brought no testimonials and were asked no questions. 
 
 That Titus should not have attained to the " damnably 
 low " standard of morals and manners exacted by his new 
 profession is curious : contemporary writers are agreed that 
 he was expelled the navy ; and once more Titus roamed like 
 a hungry wolf through the quaint purlieus and labyrinthine 
 lanes of Caroline London. 
 
 In his abject need he hit upon the notion of turning Papist. 
 A proselyte in gown and bands could surely command a price ! 
 The fathers at Somerset House, where Catherine, Queen 
 Consort, had her Roman Catholic chapel, were the best- 
 abused men in London, but they would not let a poor convert 
 want for the merest necessaries of life. So he fawned upon 
 Whitebread and Pickering, two of the black-frocked gentry 
 who flitted furtively about the capital, harmlessly enough, 
 yet eyed and execrated by the people as harbingers of deadly 
 evil, invested with the malignity of fiends and the potency of 
 wizards. From these two men, who saved him from starva- 
 tion, and were afterwards brought by him to the gallows, 
 he boasted subsequently how, on occasion, he stole a box 
 of consecrated wafers, which he styled in derision " a box 
 
102 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 of gods." With these wafers he assured his audience many 
 a time, he used "to seal his letters for above a year and a 
 half." 
 
 By good fortune and the assistance of his new friends he 
 obtained, during the year 1676, some menial post in the 
 service of the Duke of Norfolk. While in his household, 
 according to the account given by his adherents in his 
 period of power. Gates overheard some whisperings 
 among the priests, who haunted Arundel, to the effect that 
 there was some grand design on foot, but could not learn 
 what it was in particular. " He had heard from his 
 Protestant friends and read in Sir Hamon L'Estrange's 
 'History of King Charles I.,' and other judicious authors, 
 that the Papists had for many years carried on a design 
 to introduce Popery again into these nations ; which created 
 in him a longing desire to sound the depth of it, and, if 
 possible, to countermine it. To this end he entered freely 
 into conversation with the priests, who, greedy of a proselyte, 
 failed not to press him with arguments." To these argu- 
 ments did Titus seriously incline, and having already become 
 reconciled to the Church of Rome, he now sought admis- 
 sion to the Order of Jesuits. He found that the Jesuits 
 were the men " for his turn, because they were the cunning, 
 politic men, and the men that could satisfy him." By them 
 he was formally reconciled to the Romish Church on Ash 
 Wednesday, 1677. Far from letting this little incident serve 
 for a reproach on the tongues of the Protestants, who adored 
 him in the days of his pride, Titus would lay his hand upon 
 his breast and impressively yet peremptorily call upon the 
 Almighty and His holy angels to bear witness that he had 
 never change'd his religion, but that he had gone among 
 them on purpose to betray them. What his real intentions 
 were when he took the step is far from plain. That he 
 had any such design as he pretended is the least likely 
 hypothesis. The most simple is that England was rapidly 
 getting too hot to hold him. He conceived the life of a 
 Jesuit emissary to be, a merry and a roving one. The new 
 cloth might serve as a better cloak for his criminal fancies 
 than the old. He doubtless foresaw many knavish possi- 
 
TITUS DATES. 103 
 
 bilities, and snatched eagerly at the notion of a new sphere 
 of credit ; but definite project he had none. The Jesuits on 
 their part were not scrupulous in their choice of instru- 
 ments. They are not the villains of this story, but they are 
 the villains of some others. Coarse weapons were needed 
 for some of their projects, and Oates's brass may well have 
 appeared to them an exceptional metal. 
 
 Under the auspices of his new friends Gates took 
 shipping in May, 1677, and went to Valladolid, in Spain. 
 He probably entered the Colegio de los Ingleses — a college 
 specially privileged by Philip II., who had first seen the 
 light in the old capital of Castile. Titus struggled on here 
 among novel surroundings for about five months, but his 
 conception of his new part did not tally with that formed by 
 his superiors. Too soon he sought those relaxations which 
 were, he had been told, the casuel of every self-respecting 
 Romish ecclesiastic ; and he supported his peculiar views of 
 the situation's propriety with a precipitancy which was more 
 generally felt to be out of place during his novitiate in a 
 Jesuit college. Titus had to go, and, anxious to get rid of 
 him at any price, the Jesuits willingly incurred the expense 
 of shipping such a cargo from Santander to London. Thus 
 briefly and ignominiously ended the liar's sojourn in sunny 
 Spain. He subsequently styled himself a Doctor of Divinity — 
 a degree which he stated he obtained from the University of 
 Salamanca. But this was a lie. He was never at Salamanca, 
 and he was never a D.D. None but priests were admitted 
 to this degree by the Catholic Church and Oates was never 
 a priest. He once applied in the course of the next year 
 to the Archbishop of Tuam for orders, but was refused on the 
 ground of insufficient character as to life and manners. The 
 matter of the degree is well touched by Dryden in the 
 epilogue to his " Mithridates " : — 
 
 " Shall we take orders ? that will parts require : 
 Our colleges give no degrees for hire — 
 Would Salamanca were a little nigher." 
 
 Whether Titus had made the acquaintance of that curious 
 
104 TWELVE BAD MEN. ■ 
 
 and sinister being, Doctor Israel Tonga previous to his Spanish 
 voyage is not quite certain. Tonge had once held the living 
 of Pluckley, in Kent, where reports of his neighbour, the 
 incumbent of Bobbing, may well have reached his ears. 
 He subsequently lived at Fox Hall (Vauxhall) in the house 
 of Sir Richard Barker, Samuel Oates's old patron, and there 
 doubtless Titus met him, probably at this juncture. A 
 London minister, whom Wood describes as " cynical and 
 hirsute, shiftless but free from covetousness," Israel was at 
 the same time three parts a monomaniac. He was a mean 
 divine, and his rectory of St. Mary Stayning being worth 
 barely £20 per annum, it is little to be wondered at if by way 
 of solatium, he should have relinquished theology for a form 
 of imaginative literature, less hackneyed and more (imme- 
 diately) remunerative. 
 
 Scarce ever without a pen in his hand and a plot in his 
 skull-capped head, Tonge spent the time he could spare from 
 the hardly more chimerical pursuit of alchemy, in brooding 
 over the insidious growth of Papistry in these islands ; dress- 
 ing lists of Jesuit assassins and devising imbecile anagrams. 
 Two examples will suffice : Edward Coleman — Lo a damned 
 crew, and Sir Edmondbury Godfrey — Dyed by Rome'sreveng'd 
 fury. His rooms were a kind of literary factory and ware- 
 house, whence he issued periodical diatribes against the 
 Society of Jesus ; and he was at this moment busy upon an 
 " Index to the Jesuits' Morals," which was intended to 
 quicken the sale of previous books and pamphlets without 
 number, unmasking the enemies' designs. He now came 
 forward, gave Titus clothes, lodging, and diet, and told him 
 " he would put him in a way." For a time Titus shared his 
 literary labours. He began in 1678 " The Cabinet of Jesuits' 
 Secrets Opened," a colourless work, said to be translated 
 from the Italian, and completed by " a person of quality," in 
 1679. It is largely concerned with methods said to be 
 employed by the society for conciliating wealthy widows and 
 augmenting their revenues out of their estates. But Tonge 
 soon found more profitable work for his henchman. He had 
 for some time been suffering from a dearth of material. Of 
 literary material, indeed, he had enough and to spare, but 
 
TITUS OATES. 105 
 
 for local colouring and personal matter, and recondite 
 detail of every kind, he was in somewhat the same position 
 as a studious Cockney who should set himself to expound 
 the private habits of the Chinese from knowledge acquired 
 exclusively at the British Museum. Now a man who had 
 lived among the Jesuits might surely be supposed to have 
 obtained an insight into their little ways — as well as their 
 vast schemes for the expurgation of Protestantism in 
 England. 
 
 Titus was a voluble liar, but Tonge was not satisfied with 
 his^information ; there was a want of actuality about it, as 
 the French divine said when the grace of God was proposed 
 to him as a subject for his discourse. By Tonge's advice, 
 therefore, Titus now made a second application for admis- 
 sion into the Society of Jesus. His tears and promises 
 subdued the reluctance of the provincial and in spite of his 
 gross ignorance and his former backslidings he was, in 
 December 1677, though near thirty years of age, entered 
 among the " younger students " of the famous English 
 seminary at St. Omer. Of his doings there we have some 
 account in the " Florus Anglo-Bavaricus," a Latin account of 
 the plot, published by the Jesuits of Liege in 1685. He 
 seems to have played the ^ion over the younger students, 
 to their no little discomfort ; he stirred up endless dissension 
 by his lies, and, when reproved, invoked the Deity, quoted 
 the maledictory psalms, or at need rained tears, which he 
 had ad nutum; was alternately brazenly impudent and 
 fulsomely humble and cringing. A stranger of distinction 
 who passed a night in the college asked, in the words used 
 by Gregory Nazianzenus, " Quale monstrum sibi nutrit 
 Societas." About eight months after a reluctantly granted 
 admission, the fathers resolved to expel him at all hazards. 
 Titus, in a moment of desperation, " knowing no place by 
 land or sea where his past crimes would permit him to beg 
 his bread," is said to have declared that his only alternative 
 was to become Jesuit or Judas. On the 23rd of June, 1678, 
 he was turned loose upon the world. The previous night he 
 had been discovered by one of the fathers in the college 
 chapel, sprawling over the altar. When asked what he 
 
io6 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 meant by such a posture and proceeding, the noisome brag- 
 gart (" arrogantiam redolens ") declared he was having a 
 last word with Jesus Christ. 
 
 Titus had hitherto ranged with equal relish but indifferen? 
 success over the whole scale of recondite roguery. He was 
 now to anticipate in action the maxim of Swift, that since 
 vice cannot be eradicated it should be specialised. He took 
 up his permanent abode in the atelier of his old crony 
 Tonge, whence in a few months emanated that prodigious 
 pyramid of falsehood which has rendered its constructor 
 little less famous than Cheops. % 
 
 An unexpected ally and associate of the pair was Christo- 
 pher Kirkby, a gentleman of a good Lancashire family, whose 
 interest in the plot is unexplained but important. He was 
 a man of crucibles and gases, who contributed to Charles II.'s 
 morning's amusement in his laboratory, as Bap May and 
 Will Chiffinch ministered to his nocturnal diversions. Titus 
 soon convinced his docile pedagogue, the worthy Israel, that 
 the right way to engineer a Popish plot was at all hazards to 
 implicate and if possible interest the King in it. The posses- 
 sion of a pliant instrument in Kirkby lent itself admirably to 
 this conception. The piece was accordingly primed and set 
 by Titus, who was careful to keep his own energies and 
 valuable person in masterly reserve. 
 
 The field of action was now prepared. Tonga was full 
 of joyous anticipations. To him the plot was probably a 
 reality. He felt as Cicero might have felt on the eve of 
 communicating the conspiracy of Catilina to the Roman 
 Senate. As for Gates, he had the plot and its anfractu- 
 osities at his finger-ends ; he had moreover the materials 
 for the embellishments, which Tonge himself had never the 
 spirit to invent or nerve to employ. Tonge was reconciled 
 to the fabrication of such details as were necessary to carry 
 conviction to a sceptical (save the mark!) generation. 
 He thought, it is quite probable, that no ingenuity could 
 devise plots more diabolic than those with which he had 
 always credited the Jesuits. If a gigantic Roman Catholic 
 conspiracy was not in existence, then was life to him less 
 substantial than a dream. Gates, on his part, reflected that, 
 
TITUS OATES. 107 
 
 if he knew little about the internal organisation of the 
 Jesuits, and no more about their recent doings, the public of 
 London knew infinitely less. And, little as he knew, there 
 was not the slightest probability now of his ever knowing 
 more. A bold stroke must be attempted now or he must 
 let ambition for ever alone. The accession of Kirkby was 
 most fortunate. The properties and persona- for the first act 
 of the drama were all in readiness. For the rest Titus could 
 trust to his skill in improvisation. It was high time then 
 for the curtain to rise. 
 
 II. 
 
 On a fine sunny morning in August, 1678 — the 12th ot 
 the month — Charles II. was taking his accustomed stroll in 
 St. James's Park, aimlessly enough. The park was still the 
 natural outlet to Whitehall, and the King was fond of exer- 
 cising his spaniels there. There also he was in the habit of 
 playing Mall, feeding his ducks at the decoy, and, on occa- 
 sion, gossiping with Mistress Nell Gwynne, who looked down 
 on him from one of the mounds at the back of her house in 
 Pall Mall. His morning's walk was destined on this occasion 
 to an unpleasant interruption. He had not strolled very far 
 before he became conscious that somebody — probably a 
 tiresome suitor — was lying in wait for him. The individual 
 was Kirkby, who, at Oates's instigation, had taken up his 
 station in the park, in order to give the King the first hint 
 of the Popish plot — " that monstrous growth, with its root 
 in hell and its branches in the clouds." 
 
 No monarch was easier of access than Charles, who no 
 sooner witnessed his scientific acquaintance's manifest desire 
 to waylay him, than he lent himself readily to his design. 
 Kirkby then stepping mysteriously up to the King's side, 
 uttered in a stage whisper, " Sire, keep within the company ; 
 your enemies have a design upon your life, and you may be 
 shot in this very walk." The communication evoked less 
 alarm than curiosity in Charles's mind. He calmly con- 
 -tinued his walk, but appointed Kirkby to meet him privately 
 at Chiffinch's that afternoon, so that he might hear more. 
 
io8 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 At Chiffinch's Kirkby unfolded the gist and nucleus of the 
 plot. Two Jesuit knaves, Grove and Pickering, had under- 
 taken to shoot the King with a "silver bullet" from "a 
 screw-gun"; and further, one Wakeman, the Queen's 
 physician, was at present taking steps to poison 
 him. 
 
 Where had Kirkby got this novella from ? His friend Dr. 
 Tonge had a lot of papers giving details. Tonge was 
 accordingly, brought secretly to Whitehall and admitted to 
 a conference in the " Red Room " that very evening. But 
 Charles had no sooner looked at the mazy screed which 
 Tonge called his " original narrative " than he felt the infinite 
 boredom and absurdity of the whole thing. He was im- 
 patient to start for Windsor, and would not attend to the 
 matter. He referred the entire incident to Danby, who had 
 preserved a grave countenance during the interview. Un- 
 sympathetic influence having been removed, Tonge com- 
 menced that lurid crescendo of lying confidences which was 
 to cost so many innocent persons their lives. He informed 
 Danby that the documents in question had been thrust 
 under the door of his chamber, that he did not know by 
 whom this liberty had been taken, but could form a shrewd 
 guess. Subsequently he confessed he had met the man who 
 had submitted the papers, and that this man had owned to 
 their authorship. Even thus crude was Oates's device for 
 investing the " plot " with an appropriate air of mystery. 
 The King was at once communicated with, and requested 
 to order warrants for the apprehension of the would-be 
 assassins, named in the paper, and to communicate 
 the whole affair to the Council. Charles said no to both 
 requests; the matter must be kept dark; "he would be 
 very careful of himself." Tonge next stated that William 
 [Grove] and Pickering had set out to Windsor to effect their 
 fell purpose. On hearing this the King changed his mind 
 and gave orders for their arrest. They never turned up, how- 
 ever, and for a good reason. Charles grew more incredulous 
 than ever. To mention such an absurdity to the Council 
 would only be to alarm all England, and " put thoughts of 
 killing him into people's heads who had no such thoughts 
 
TITUS OATES. 109 
 
 before." The impression of fraud was only strengthened by 
 Tonge's next move. He told Danby that a packet of letters 
 addressed to certain Jesuits, and treating of matters con- 
 nected with the plot, had been sent to Bedingfield, the 
 Duke of York's confessor, at Windsor. Shortly before 
 Tonge gave the information, the Duke had brought the 
 letters which Bedingfield had given him to the King, saying 
 that (although purporting to be from persons in Bedingfield's 
 acquaintance) they were written in a hand of which he was 
 ignorant, and that he could make nothing of them beyond 
 the fact that they seemed to contain certain treasonable 
 matter. They were, in fact, crude and transparent forgeries, 
 prepared in Israel's workshop. So far the whole affair 
 seemed a delusion, and would, in the ordinary course of 
 events, have died a natural death. Tonge and his 
 colleague were much cast down and perplexed at the 
 contemptuous neglect to which their bantling was sub- 
 jected. They repaired, for concealment and security, to the 
 lodging of their poor dupe, Kirkby, at Vauxhall. Kirkby 
 himself repeatedly attended at Court, but Charles had already 
 formed his opinion of the plot, and invariably passed him by 
 without recognition. The plot seemed in desperate danger 
 of asphyxiation. 
 
 Unfortunately, at this juncture the Duke of York, with 
 his usual ineptitude, took a most unwise step. He thought 
 it an admirable opportunity to inflict a blow upon his an- 
 tagonists ; he felt confident of convicting them of fabricating 
 false plots, and so he demanded an inquiry into the whole 
 matter by the Privy Council. 
 
 Simultaneously the liar played his master-stroke. On the 
 6th of September, 1678, he dragged off Tonge to Sir 
 Edmund Berry Godfrey, a well-known justice of the peace, 
 of strong Protestant principles. He was apprehensive, 
 needlessly as the event proved, of finding the Council 
 unsympathetic, if not distrustful. Godfrey received the 
 wildest flights of his fancy with mingled fear and 
 amazement, exactly the state of mind Gates wished to 
 induce. Three weeks later he returned, and decorated 
 the bald patches of his original narrative, making affidavit 
 
no TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 to the truth of thirty-eight articles, in addition to the forty- 
 three to which he had previously sworn. 
 
 Oates's disclosure was very briefly to the following effect : 
 The Jesuits had been appointed by Pope Innocent XI. to 
 the supreme power in this realm. The " Black Bastard," 
 as they called the King, was a condemned heretic, and was 
 to be put to death. If at any rate he did not become R.C., 
 he could not continue C.R. The Duke of York was to be 
 sounded on the subject, and, if he did not answer expecta- 
 tion, was to be despatched after his brother. Father Le Shee 
 (Pere La Chaise) had lodged ten thousand pounds in London 
 forany onewhowoulddothe deed,and this had been augmented 
 by ten thousand pounds promised by the Jesuits in Spain, and 
 six thousand pounds by the Prior of the Benedictines at the 
 Savoy. Sir George Wakeman had been offered ten thousand 
 pounds to doctor the King's posset, but he haggled for fifteen 
 thousand pounds ; this was not withheld ; he was promised 
 the full sum, and eight thousand pounds had already been 
 paid on account. Four Irish "ruffians " had been hired to 
 stab the King at Windsor. Grove (" honest William ") and 
 Pickering had been further retained at fifteen hundred 
 pounds apiece to shoot the King with silver bullets. Gates 
 himself had been urged to undertake this task, but had 
 pleaded his terror at the idea of letting off a gun. To make 
 assurance doubly sure — in the unlikely event of a doctor, 
 two silver bullets, and four Irishmen failing to take effect — a 
 Jesuit, named Conyers, bought for ten shillings a consecrated 
 knife " not dear for the work it had to do" to stick the " heretic 
 pig " withal. All these little matters, and some others, had 
 been snugly arranged at a " general consult " of Jesuits, 
 which had taken place on the 24th of April, 1678, at the 
 White Horse in Fleet Street. The business of the general 
 consult having been transacted with harmonious brevity, 
 that body divided into several smaller or departmental 
 consults, each of which undertook the supervision of a 
 given part of the scheme — one the poisoning, another the 
 stabbing, and so on. Proceeding to generalities, the attes- 
 tation described how the Jesuits had brought about the fire 
 of London, and what a good thing they had made out of it. 
 
TITUS DATES. in 
 
 They spent seven hundred pounds in fireballs, and made by 
 
 plunder fourteen thousand pounds ; they had made another 
 
 fire on St. Margaret's Hill, and stolen two thousand pounds' 
 
 worth of goods ; they had also recently fired Southwark, 
 
 and were now determined to burn all the towns in England. 
 
 A paper model was made for the firing of London, and 
 
 an " architectonical scheme " showing where to begin and 
 
 go on as the wind should serve. Gates himself was 
 
 assigned an important place among the incendiaries. 
 
 " Natural feeling " prompted him to exhibit repugnance for 
 
 such a task. As a proper penalty for such an ebullition, 
 
 he was destined to horrible torture— as soon as he should 
 
 have fulfilled his part ; so he had overheard. Finally, a 
 
 general rebellion was to be raised, and a massacre to take 
 
 place, in which Charles, if he still survived, was to be 
 
 slaughtered, and the Duke of York offered the crown on 
 
 certain conditions; if he failed to accept the situation, 
 
 then, in the Jesuits' own words, as reported by Titus, 
 
 "to pot James must go." 
 
 Such was, almost to the letter, though it will hardly be 
 believed, the monstrous tissue of unabashed ignorance and 
 grotesque falsehood which Gates proffered to the credulity of 
 a nation. That Charles had not already been " done for " was 
 attributed to a series of accidents. The flint of Pickering's 
 pistol had got loose, or later. Grove caught a severe cold 
 which precluded his going to Windsor; on another occasion 
 one of the conspirator's horses was " slipt in the shoulder." 
 Pickering ^ had received severe " backside castigation " for 
 his repeated failures. Grove had been threatened and coaxed; 
 the reward had been constantly increased. Surely here were 
 spurs to expedite the two " screwed gunners " who " as the 
 devil and the doctor would have it, had been for years at 
 the King's very throat." Gne may well ask, "Where, in the 
 name of dulness, were our wits, when all this hideous piece 
 of apocrypha was current gospel among us ? " 
 
 ^ A quaint portrait of Pickering crouching behind a bush with the 
 screw-gun at the charge is given on the knave of diamonds in a con- 
 temporary pack of cards ; it is figured in The Gentleman's Magazine, 
 1849, pt. ii. p. 269. And see the coin on the title-page of this work. 
 
112 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 As Gates had calculated, the Government could hardly 
 allow his inflammatory disclosures to percolate London 
 through private agency without taking any active steps in the 
 matter. On the 28th of September the Council summoned 
 the redoubtable Titus before them, and they were soon fully 
 occupied. Twice a day they sat, and with every sitting grew 
 more muddled and alarmed. The liar surpassed himself. 
 He appeared in a smart clerical gown and a new suit, 
 specially borrowed for the occasion, on the excellent security 
 of the plot, and, having once passed the Rubicon, threw away 
 every shred of caution and reserve. His volubility was 
 extraordinary, and he swore himself hoarse over his con- 
 tinual embellishments of the forty-three articles of the original 
 Tonge-Oates narrative. The fatigue which he experienced 
 afterwards served as a plausible pretext for the defects of his 
 memory. To any cool, impartial person of intelligence 
 Oates's declarations were a complete exposure. The only 
 cool person of intelligence was Charles himself. "What sort 
 of man," asked the King of Gates during his examination, "is 
 Don John ? " (Don John being Johannes Paulus de Oliva, 
 the general of the Society of Jesus, and chief director of the 
 plot). " A tall, lean man," replied the liar. The King smiled, 
 knowing the general to be a little swarthy, podgy fellow. 
 Yet again, the King asked him where it was that he had seen 
 La Chaise pay down his ten thousand pounds. In the Jesuits' 
 house just by the King's house at the Louvre, was the 
 answer. " Man," said Charles, "the Jesuits have no house 
 within a mile of the Louvre." The whole of Gates's story 
 rested upon the monstrous supposition that Titus (whose 
 actual career among the Catholics has been briefly narrated), 
 was not only a chosen emissary and carrier of all the Jesuits' 
 most important despatches, but that the contents of all the 
 papers with which he was entrusted, were communicated to 
 him by the deep contrivers of a secret and supremely dangerous 
 plot. He had no documentary evidence ; yet he had had all 
 the strings of the conspiracy in his hands. So great had 
 been the confidence reposed in his faith and honesty that 
 the Jesuits were never tired of unbosoming to him the 
 minutest details of their plan ; he went about with open 
 
TITUS OATES. 113 
 
 papers getting signatures, travelled on diplomatic missions 
 in France and Spain, yet was allowed to overhear a con- 
 ference in which he was threatened with torture for lack 
 of zeal. As the accredited go-between among the Jesuits, 
 Gates had obviously to acknowledge intimacy with the chief 
 instruments in their hellish designs, such as Coleman and 
 Wakeman, yet when he was confronted with them he did 
 not know them. When they were introduced to the Council, 
 in company with a few other persons, he was utterly unable 
 to identify them. Could the fabric of a dream be more 
 baseless than a story resting on a foundation like this ? So 
 great, however, was the fatuity of the Privy Council that to 
 a majority of its members this galimatias appeared to be 
 " above invention." 
 
 The King regarded the whole matter as too foolish. 
 Greatly to the distress of his Council he at this juncture 
 (October 2nd) left abruptly for Newmarket. He estimated 
 that the performances of his "topping horse," Blew Cap, 
 would amuse him even more than the folly of his councillors. 
 Before he left, however, the Council had assigned Gates 
 and Tonge lodgings in Whitehall, with a guard for their 
 security and a weekly salary. Moreover, a large number 
 of the persons denounced by Gates had been committed to 
 Newgate and other prisons. Rife as was already the spirit 
 of delusion, they could hardly have failed to be discharged, 
 as the absurdity of Gates's allegations was made apparent, 
 but for a concatenation of circumstances as sinister and 
 mysterious as it was pregnant with misery and shame. 
 
 Among the large number of Catholics whom Titus had 
 accused at a complete venture was one Edward Coleman, 
 a man of some little notoriety and no little conceit. He 
 was a convert from Protestantism, and full, as converts are, 
 of foolish emphasis and indiscretion. His " sad, sunken eyes 
 and his lean, withered countenance, shewing more ghastly 
 pale while surrounded by his black peruke," fitted the 
 part of a popish intrigant to perfection. His half-starved, 
 emaciated look probably suggested him to Titus. And 
 Coleman's looks did not altogether belie him ; in the first 
 flush of convert zeal he had carried on dangerous corre- 
 
 9 
 
114 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 spondence with La Ferrier and La Chaise. The Papists 
 had a mighty work on hand in England, such was the high- 
 falutin tenor of his not too serious communications — no 
 less than the conversion of the three kingdoms and the exter- 
 mination of a most pestilent heresy. There were never 
 such hopes of success since the days of Queen Mary as now 
 " in our day." He spoke, in fact, of the eternal crusade t)f 
 Roman Catholicism against all governments and religions 
 other than its own. The modus operandi was roughly indicated. 
 To France was proffered the privilege of supplying gold to 
 conciliate the English Parliament. The English Catholics, 
 with the Duke of York at their head, were to work to- 
 gether with France to bring about the conversion of England 
 at the expense, if necessary, of political subservience to Louis 
 XIV. 
 
 When Coleman's house was searched a deal box, con- 
 taining letters to the effect above related, was found in a 
 receptacle behind the chimney, and some packets of letters 
 were discovered in a drawer under his table. He had 
 plenty of time to escape, but felt a misplaced confidence in 
 the speedy discrediting of Oates's extravaganza ; so that he 
 stayed at home and leisurely destroyed his letters, but by 
 a fatal oversight overlooked those in the table drawer and 
 in the chimney. Had he withdrawn all his papers nothing 
 had appeared ; had he left all it might have been concluded 
 that the whole secret lay in them. These letters from an 
 influential and well-informed papist were, in fact, the best 
 possible evidence that Oates's tale of a conspiracy was 
 the merest fabrication, but at the time they were re- 
 garded as a confirmation of the substantial truth of 
 Oates's story. The vague designs of Coleman were taken 
 to be an outlying portion of the gigantic conspiracy so 
 darkly adumbrated by Oates. The discovery made as 
 much noise in and about London as if the very cabinet of 
 hell had been laid open. " One might now," says North, 
 " have deny'd Christ with less contest than the plot." 
 
 Great, however, as was the ferment caused by the dis- 
 covery of Coleman's letters, it was insignificant by com- 
 parison with that occasioned hy the ominous event that 
 
TITUS DATES. 115 
 
 followed and almost effaced it from the public mind, — 
 another piece of undesigned evidence (as it was considered) 
 of Oates's patriotism and veracity. 
 
 Gates had commenced his revelations to Godfrey on Sep- 
 tember 6, 1678. On Saturday, October 12th, the " best justice 
 of the peace in England " left home at nine o'clock in the 
 morning on a magisterial round ; he had to call upon a 
 churchwarden and to transact business of various kinds 
 for the then extensive and undivided parish of St. Martin's- 
 in-the-Fields. He did not return that night, nor was he 
 ever seen alive again. His servants grew uneasy and 
 instituted a search ; the public soon shared their anxiety. 
 Mysterious rumours supervened. At midday on Thursday 
 an unknown man stated in a bookseller's shop that Godfrey's 
 body had been found pierced through with a sword. That 
 evening his body was discovered in a ditch on the south 
 side of Primrose Hill, near Hampstead. He lay face down- 
 wards, with his sword through bis body, his cane and 
 gloves by him, rings upon his fingers, and in his pocket 
 seven guineas, four broad pieces, two small pieces of gold,, 
 and a quantity of silver. His pocket-book and a lace cravat 
 alone were missing. At first it was suggested that he had 
 committed suicide, but this was negatived by the fact that 
 his neck was broken, that his chest was much bruised, and 
 that, as the medical evidence showed, the sword had been run 
 through him after death. On the instant the wildest conjec- 
 tures were rife as to the perpetrators of the deed, but opinion 
 soon settled steadily in one current. A secret poison had 
 long been at work in this poor Protestant land. Those 
 hellish Jesuits, surely they must have had a hand in this ! 
 " It was obvious that the Papists might do it in revenge 
 for Godfrey's swearing Oates to his narrative." If it were 
 objected that such a crude method of revenge squared ill 
 with the Machiavellian subtlety with which the Jesuits 
 were credited, had not Dr. Burnet seen with his own eyes. 
 " many drops of white wax lights, such as Roman Catholic 
 priests use, upon Godfrey's clothes." Could one doubt one 
 instant longer into whose hands the murdered justice had 
 fallen ? 
 
1 1 6 T WEL VE BAD MEN. 
 
 The credulous state of public opinion on the subject of 
 the connection between Catholicism and crime had given 
 Gates an excellent market for his lies. The Coleman dis- 
 closures gave things a desirable fillip. The Godfrey murder 
 converted Gates into the hero and saviour of his country — 
 a Protestant Cicero, outmanoeuvring the Jesuitical Catilina. 
 For a few weeks or months he may almost be said to have 
 dictated the destinies of the kingdom. The dictatorship 
 was naturally based upon terror. The state of panic which 
 followed in the metropolis upon Godfrey's assassination, was 
 in fact without parallel in our annals. Its keynote is struck at 
 once by Sir Thomas Player's affirmation that all the Protestant 
 citizens might rise the next morning with their throats cut. 
 None doubted that the crisis was at hand. The " Book of 
 Martyrs " was everywhere found upon the same table with 
 the Family Bible, and was the more read of the two. The 
 smoke of Smithfield fires was in the nostrils of every staunch 
 Protestant. " To see the posts and chains put up in all parts 
 of the City," writes the unexcessive Calamy, " and the train 
 bands drawn up night after night, well armed and watching 
 with as much care as if a considerable insurrection was 
 expected before morning, and to be entertained from day 
 to day with talk of massacre designed, and a number of 
 bloody assassins ready to serve such purposes, and recruits 
 from abroad to support and assist them was — very surprising." 
 The murder of Godfrey, with the black Sunday that followed 
 soon after it when it grew so dark on a sudden about eleven 
 in the morning that ministers could not read their notes 
 in their pulpits without the help of candles, together with 
 the frequent execution of traitors that ensued, and the many 
 dismal stories handed about, continually made the hearts not 
 only of younger but of elder persons to quake for fear. Not 
 so much as a house was at that time to be found but was 
 provided with firearms; nor did any go to rest at night 
 without apprehensions of somewhat that was very tragical 
 that might happen before morning. The shopkeepers 
 complained of their loss of custom, for none would buy to- 
 day what the Papists might burn to-morrow. The book 
 trade languished in all branches but one— that of polemic 
 
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 GATES, THE DEVIL, AND THE POPE. 
 
TITUS DATES. 117 
 
 literature, chiefly tracts and broadsides, directed against the 
 Catholics. In October, almost immediately after Godfrey's 
 murder, appeared " England's Grand Memorial " — a broad- 
 side with illustrations of a most provocative kind, dedicated 
 to Lord Shaftesbury. The dedication was apt enough if it 
 were true that Shaftesbury had already declared that all 
 those who undermined the credit of the Protestant witnesses 
 were to be looked upon as public enemies. In Dryden's 
 words : — 
 
 " 'Twas worse than plotting to suspect the plot." 
 
 In another illustrated broadside, which we have repro- 
 duced, the Pope is represented sitting at a table inditing 
 an order for the extirpation of heresy. Gates stands 
 stealthily behind, but is craning his big head over to 
 decipher the screed ; an imp of Satan warns the pontiff of 
 the proximity of an intruder, and the embarrassment of 
 the discovery causes the Pope's tiara to topple off his head. 
 Godfrey's funeral on October 31st was naturally the occa- 
 sion of a Protestant demonstration. On Queen Elizabeth's 
 birthday, celebrated with unusual solemnity on the 19th of 
 the next month, an effigy of the Pope with the devil whisper- 
 ing in his ear, models of Godfrey's dead body and of Romish 
 bishops and priests in mitres and copes were carried through 
 the streets. Daniel Defoe, then a mere boy, looked with 
 wonder iipon what passed before him, and in after-years told 
 how the old City blunderbusses were burnished anew, how 
 hats and feathers and shoulder-belts and other military gear 
 came into fashion again, and soldiers once more disturbed 
 the peace of quiet citizens. 
 
 Gates regarded the havoc with interest and composed his 
 expressive face. A complacent feeling of exegi monumentum 
 stole through his sluggish veins and smothered any qualms 
 of amazement or alarm. A few short months ago, despised 
 for a dullard, he had been relegated, always on sufferance, 
 to the boys' class at St. Omer ; thence he had been thrust, 
 naked and starving, upon an unappreciative world. Sublime 
 mendacity, a stroke or two of luck, a deft and well-timed 
 
ii8 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 murder, and all was changed. Now he was described as the 
 saviour of society, fawned on, caressed, not merely unex- 
 pectedly fed, but copiously feed. The very Gallios of the 
 Court could not refuse him credence. As for the Parliament, 
 all the terrors of the town were fully reflected there. "When 
 the Houses met on October aist, the King hoped to keep 
 the business out of their itching fingers. In the speech 
 from the throne the plot was barely alluded to. A plot there 
 was no doubt, but the Government would surely unravel it. 
 The establishment of proofs and punishment of offenders 
 could be safely left to the normal agency of the law. Let 
 the gentlemen of the Commons turn their attention to the 
 graver matter of supply. But the King's Speech was no 
 sooner proposed for consideration than a general cry of 
 " The plot ! the plot ! " drowned the hall. Far from ignoring 
 it, the Houses sat upon and incubated the plot, and nothing 
 but the plot from morning to night, and before three days 
 had elapsed petitioned the King to appoint a fast, sure pre- 
 lude of national disgrace ! They required, moreover, the 
 removal of all Popish recusants, and implored the King to 
 exclude unknown persons from the presence. One of the 
 Lords expressed the general sentiment in an exquisite tirade : 
 " I would not have," said he, " so much as a Popish man or 
 a Popish woman remain here, not so much as a Popish dog 
 or a Popish bitch, not so much as a Popish cat to purr or 
 mew about the King." These elevated expressions were 
 warmly applauded, and a bill was rapidly passed for raising 
 all the militia and keeping it under arms for six weeks. 
 
 Gaping for more revelations, the House of Commons 
 instinctively sent for Oates. So well did he ply them, and 
 so apt were they in assisting him out of inconsistencies that 
 Scroggs was sent for straight away, and twenty-six warrants 
 sealed for the apprehension of as many persons, including 
 the five Catholic Lords, Powis, Stafford, Petre, Arundel, and 
 Bellasis. Oates had previously named Arundel and Bellasis 
 to the Council, but on the King's remarking significantly 
 that those two Lords had served him faithfully, recoiled with 
 an unctuous " God forbid that I should accuse any unjustly; 
 I did not say they knew it, but only that they were to be 
 
TITUS OATES. 119 
 
 acquainted with it." The Whigs, in the meantime, used 
 their opportunity to try and deprive the King of his control 
 of the miHtia, and to carry through the impeachment of 
 Danby. The King thereupon impatiently dissolved the 
 Parliament. The country was left in a state of helpless 
 panic, the precursor of dark and evil deeds. 
 
 To understand the virulence of the panic that needed to 
 vent itself in a series of judicial murders, which are unique 
 in the history of our country, a careful study of the temper 
 of the populace and the exact political conditions is essential. 
 But the universal prevalence of the epidemic of fear and 
 hatred is worth noting here. Once rife, it cannot be said 
 to have made any distinction of party. The Court party, 
 horrified at the attack upon the royal person, joined to their 
 former hatred of Popery a new and more lively horror of it 
 as the faith of rebels. The country party saw in it the 
 development of a conspiracy they had long dreaded. On 
 no section of the community did the plot bacillus commit 
 direr ravages than on the clergy. Protestant pulpits 
 surged with scurrilities and lies directed against the 
 Catholics. The most respectable of their order, men such 
 as Bancroft, Tillotson, StilHngfleet, Barlow, and Sharp, did 
 their utmost to magnify popular apprehension and to 
 confirm the popular persuasion of the reality of the plot ; as 
 for Burnet, he could only express his astonishment at the 
 moderation and forbearance of a Protestant people. 
 
 One of the most sensible men of his time thus summed 
 up the general view which sensible men took of the situa- 
 tion. " The Parliament and the whole nation alarm'd 
 about a conspiracy of some eminent Papists for the destruc- 
 tion of the King and introduction of Popery, discovered by 
 one Gates and Dr. Tongue, which last I knew, being the 
 translator of the 'Jesuites' Morals.' I went to see and 
 converse with him at White Hall, with Mr. Oates, one that 
 was lately an apostate to the Church of Rome, and now 
 return'd againe with this discovery. He seem'd to be a bold 
 man, and in my thoughts furiously indiscreete ; but every- 
 body believ'd what he said ; and it quite chang'd the genius 
 and motions of the Parliament, growing now corrupt and 
 
I20 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 interested with long sitting and court practices ; but with all 
 this Poperie would not go downe. This discoverie turn'd 
 them all as one man against it, and nothing was done but to 
 find out the depth of this. Gates was encouraged, and every- 
 thing he affirm'd taken for gospel ; the truth is the Roman 
 Catholics were exceeding bold and busy everywhere, since 
 the Duke [of York] forbore to go any longer to the Chap- 
 pell." ' 
 
 There was only one circumstance which now embarrassed 
 the patrons of the plot. Its credit depended entirely upon 
 the evidence of one witness. Until another could be found 
 an outraged Protestant populace might demand victims in 
 vain. If justice was to be travestied it was to be done 
 according to good old Anglo-Saxon formulas. So several 
 weeks passed. Early in November, 1679, the difficulty was 
 surmounted. A man named Bedloe, self-styled captain and 
 full-blown villain, whose career had rivalled in infamy 
 that of Gates himself, deposed before the magistrates at 
 Bristol (Gctober 28th) that Godfrey had been murdered by 
 Roman Catholics in revenge for his having taken Gates's 
 evidence. As with Gates, his memory was constantly im- 
 proved and operated in crescendo curves of audacity. The last 
 version of his story was that Godfrey was inveigled into the 
 court of Somerset House about five in the evening of the 
 12th of Gctober, that he was strangled with a linen cravat ; 
 that his body was deposited in an upper room which he 
 pointed out to the Duke of Monmouth ; that he saw standing 
 round the corpse the four murderers and one Atkins, clerk to 
 Mr. Pepys of the Admiralty; and that it was removed 
 about eleven of the clock on the Monday night. This 
 testimony was confirmed in a curious, though completely 
 inconclusive manner, by Miles Prance, goldsmith and maker 
 of religious emblems for the Queen's chapel in Somerset 
 House. He was drawn into the case by a strange and 
 untoward coincidence. Suspected on account of his con- 
 nection and employment, Prance was arrested, and was being 
 
 ^ I.e., since the Duke, afterwards James II., publicly acknow- 
 ledged himself a Roman Catholic. Evelyn's Diary, October i, 
 1678. 
 
TITUS OATES. I2i 
 
 taken in custody to Westminster Hall, when he was recog- 
 nised by Bedloe, who was passing along the Strand, as one 
 of the four concerned in Godfrey's murder. Threats and a 
 dark prison extracted from this unfortunate man a corrobora- 
 tion of Bedloe's story. 
 
 Three innocent men — two of them Roman Catholics — were 
 executed for Godfrey's murder in February, 1679. By the 
 public the murder was taken as a proof of the plot, while 
 the plot appeared an equally plain proof of the murder. 
 With regard to the latter — was it a sign of defiance or of 
 guilty terror on the part of the Catholics ? This could only 
 be a matter for surmise until the conspirators, indicated by 
 Gates, were convicted and the full hellishness of their designs 
 exposed. It therefore became a nation's object to bring the 
 accused persons to trial with as little delay as possible. 
 But before any trial could be held the conviction was general 
 that Titus had rather under than overstated the fiendish 
 character of their machinations. 
 
 The next eighteen months of Gates's career are a matter of 
 history and the facts, narrated by Macaulay, are doubtless 
 in the possession of the peculiarly constituted schoolboy of 
 his allusions. For the benefit of others they must be briefly 
 summarised here. The trials began in November, 1678. 
 Gn the 27th of that month Coleman was indicted before 
 Lord Chief Justice Scroggs, and Justices Wilde, Dolben, and 
 Jones, for compassing the death of the King. Recorder 
 Jeffreys, Serjeant Maynard, and the Attorney-General Sir 
 William Jones, opened the case for the Crown. Gates's 
 probity was insisted upon ; he was a veritable St. George 
 fighting almost single-handed against this monster of a con- 
 spiracy. The damnable murder of Godfrey, so hellishly 
 contrived, was feelingly alluded to. As to Coleman, his 
 association with the triple design against the King's life was 
 admitted to depend entirely upon Gates's evidence. Titus 
 was at length triumphantly produced. " We desire," said 
 Jeffreys, " that Mr. Gates be not interrupted." " He shall 
 not be," said Scroggs. He began by describing his experiences 
 as a letter-carrier. He had carried letters from Coleman 
 arid certain Jesuits to the rector of St. Gmer. Included in 
 
122 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 the packet were letters to Pere La Chaise about the 
 ten thousand pounds paid down for the destruction of the 
 King. He also carried back the answer. Then he described 
 the " consult " at White Horse Tavern, which subsequently 
 split up into smaller groups. He received, he stated, a 
 patent from the Society of Jesus to be of the consult. 
 There the Grove and Pickering scheme was approved and 
 the rewards settled : Grove to have fifteen hundred pounds 
 down, Pickering, a religious man, thirty thousand masses. 
 The plot was communicated to Coleman, who warmly ap- 
 plauded it, and further wished to trepan the Duke of York 
 into the murder. " Gentlemen of the jury," said Scroggs 
 at this juncture, " do you hear what he says ? " The jury : 
 " Yes." Coleman was also a party to sending forty thou- 
 sand black bills to Ireland and to the design of chartering 
 " four Irish ruffians," nameless, but selected by Fogarthy, 
 to " settle the King's hash cheap." Finally, he was hand 
 and glove with Ashby, rector of St. Omer, in a project 
 for poisoning the King through the agency of Wakeman, the 
 Queen's physician. Coleman was to be Secretary of State 
 under the new dispensation, to date from the King's demise. 
 As the trial progressed an awkward point came up. At 
 the examination before the Council Gates did not know 
 Coleman, and told the King he had never seen him before, 
 yet now he spoke as if a long intimacy had existed between 
 himself and his victim. With some readiness Titus affirmed 
 that the examination before the Council occurred late in the 
 evening, when the candles flickered and the light was dim 
 and he was tired out with his exertions in arresting public 
 enemies. He failed for these reasons, so he said, to recog- 
 nise Coleman on the instant, but directly he heard his voice 
 he was ready to swear to him. It was then shown that 
 Coleman had given his evidence before Gates was asked 
 whether he recognised him. In this dilemma Titus again 
 took refuge in the fatigue which had benumbed his senses. 
 But he was not long left in peace. " How came you, Mr. 
 Gates," he was asked, " Mr. Coleman being so desperate a 
 man that he was endeavouring to killjthe King, to omit your 
 information of it to the King at that time ? Why, with this 
 
TITUS OATES. 123 
 
 dreadful secret on your mind, did you not speak out then as 
 well as now ? Coleman might have escaped." ^ These and 
 other disagreeable, pertinent questions asked Scroggs of the 
 brazen one. The marvel is that Gates was not entirely 
 discredited. Unfortunately, his readiness and audacity 
 augmented, the lucid intervals of the court became rarer, 
 and the current of Protestant mania grew stronger. On 
 this occasion Scroggs ventured to give the " saviour " a 
 caution, and in summing up dwelt but lightly upon the 
 evidence of Titus, and his precious ally, Bedloe. He 
 relied entirely upon the letters for a conviction. Coleman 
 trusted to his alibi, which broke down ; and he received 
 sentence of death. On the 3rd of December his barbarous 
 sentence was carried out. 
 
 At the next trial, that of Ireland, together with Grove and 
 Pickering, on December 17th, 1678, Oates had the effrontery 
 to swear that he had taken round the instrument embodying 
 the resolve to assassinate the King, together with details 
 about the reward, to the minor consults into which the 
 major consult at the White Horse had resolved itself ; and 
 further, that he had with his own eyes seen it signed by 
 Whitebread, Fenwick, and Ireland, one after the other. He 
 now said, moreover, that he had been sent over from St. 
 
 ' Throughout the whole of the trial epoch Oates claimed and 
 appropriated to himself the extraordinary privilege of doling out 
 just as much " information " as suited him — in other words, as he 
 invented it. He never made a full authentic statement, but kept 
 back important " facts " in reserve. This peculiarity of the liar's 
 evidence is well illustrated in " Peveril of the Peak," where, in 
 answer to a judicial remonstrance, Scott makes Titus observe, 
 " Maay laard, I will tell you a pretty fable." " I hope," answered 
 the judge, " it may be the first and last which you shall tell in this 
 place." "Maay laard," continued Oates, "there was once a faux, 
 who having to caarry a goose aver a frazen river, and being afraid 
 the aice would not bear him and his booty, did caarry aver a stoane, 
 maay laard, in the first instance to prove the strength of the aice. 
 ... It was not to be thought that I should have brought out all the 
 story at aance." This is a capital illustration of Oates's infernal 
 impudence, nauseous style of pronunciation (see p. 134), and actual 
 practice during these trials. 
 
124 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Omer to murder Tonge. During the whole of the time he 
 swore he was so employed Gates was in reality at St. Omer, 
 as was afterwards amply proved. Further details of the most 
 preposterous kind flowed from this black tongue which wagged 
 the more vigorously as its activity grew more fatal. He 
 described the continual " stalking " of the King in the park 
 by Grove and Pickering, who " champed " their bullets so 
 as to cause a more jagged and dangerous wound. His em- 
 bellishments were sought still further afield. Grove and his 
 companions, he alleged, "turned into burlesque all that was 
 done at the Council, or at the Parliament, or at the Courts 
 in Westminster Hall, and sent it to the French King for 
 him to laugh at." In fine, the old family of lies were all 
 trotted out with some sensible additions, and the result 
 that Grove, Ireland, and Pickering were all sentenced to 
 death. Scroggs summed up with gross but universal preju- 
 dice against religionists, who in the Chief Justice's words 
 " eat their god, kill their King, and saint the murderer." In 
 things of this nature, he said, referring to the evidence of 
 Gates and Bedloe on which everything rested, you cannot 
 expect the witnesses to be absolutely spotless. The question 
 of credibility he left to the jury, andthe jury, consisting not of 
 ignorant or, at least, not of uneducated men, but of baronets 
 and squires, showed their shocking credulity by convicting. 
 The perjury in the case of Ireland was singularly flagrant. 
 Gates and Bedloe both swore to his presence in London 
 during the latter half of August. Now Ireland accounted 
 for his absence from London on every day between August 
 3rd and September 14th, and his statements were corro- 
 borated by a whole host of Catholic witnesses. Gates's 
 allegations, on the other hand, were supported by the 
 evidence of a single woman, called Sarah Pain, who 
 swore to having seen Ireland at a scrivener's in Fetter Lane 
 on August 20th. The unfortunate man was, nevertheless, 
 convicted and sentenced to death, in vain pleading his 
 relationship to the Penderells of Boscobel, and the death of 
 his uncle, Francis Ireland, in the King's service. Four 
 Popish' plotters had now travelled the path to dusty death, 
 but public opinion was not appeased. Five Jesuits, White- 
 
TITUS DATES. 125 
 
 bread, Harcourt, Fenwick, Gavan, and Turner, were tried 
 and executed with appalling expedition during the month of 
 June. Nor did the very next month lack its victim. The 
 tenth martyr, the eminently respectable Catholic lawyer, 
 Richard Langhorne, was executed on July 17th. He had 
 been reprieved for a month in order that information might 
 be extracted from him concerning the estates in the hands 
 of Jesuits. When he was buried " his back was found to be 
 full of stripes, which were thought to be a penance for the 
 discoveries he had made." 
 
 Thus terminated the first phase of the plot. Hitherto 
 an indictment for the plot had been synonymous with a 
 conviction. Gates had been implicitly believed by the 
 London juries. There seemed no reason to apprehend 
 any alteration in the state of public feeling. Gates was 
 accordingly emboldened to accuse the Queen on oath 
 before the Privy Council of being privy to the plot, and of 
 the design to kill the King. This was the accusation which 
 in reality lay behind the next trial, that of Sir George 
 Wakeman, the Queen's physician. And this trial proved 
 most important — because the test case of the plot. It 
 began upon Friday, July 18, 1679, at the Sessions House at 
 the Gld Bailey. Titus had three acolytes upon this occasion 
 — Bedloe, Jennison, and Dugdale.^ The main charge against 
 Wakeman, that he received fifteen thousand pounds to poison 
 the King's possett, has already been mentioned. Gates swore 
 that he had heard the proposal made and after some haggling 
 
 ^ Dugdale — a wretch who swore to " general evidence " against 
 Langhorne and Stafford, as well as on this occasion, but subse- 
 quently changed sides and confronted his old associates at the trial 
 of Stephen College. His evidence either way was by that time quite 
 discredited. He was not quite so proof against remorse as his 
 fellows, it appears, for he began to " see spectres " as early as 1681, 
 and died miserably of delirium tremens in March, 1683. 
 
 Both he, Bedloe and Dangerfield, were men of the worst possible 
 character and of infamous careers almost from their cradles. Either 
 of them, as well as William Fuller (hereinafter noticed), would deserve 
 a place in this collection upon their proper merits, were it not that 
 their stories come too much into collision with those of their great 
 exemplar, Titus, chief among the perjured. 
 
126 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 accepted. But the chief witness had some very disagree- 
 able moments during the trial. He was asked by the 
 prisoner, " Have you not said before the King and Council 
 that you never saw me in your life, and that you did not 
 know me (Gates had just sworn to having seen the phy- 
 sician twice before his appearance at the Council) ? Oates, 
 loq. : " My Lord, you may be pleased to know, when I saw 
 Sir George Wakeman at the Council, I had been up two 
 nights together, and the King was willing to excuse me 
 from any further examination being so ill and indisposed 
 for want of rest, in respect both of my intellectuals and every- 
 thing else, I might not charge him so home ; but now I have 
 a proper light, whereby I may see a man's face, I can say 
 more to him." Sir George : " This is just Coleman's case — 
 the light was in your eyes." Yet Oates asseverated that he 
 had seen the other twice before the Council meeting — once, 
 when Wakeman had written a prescription in a hand subse- 
 quently identified as that in which an order to an apothecary 
 for poison had been indited ; secondly, when the definite 
 proposal to poison Charles had been made. "And," said 
 Wakeman, " you knew all these things at that time I was 
 examined before the King and Council, and yet said 
 nothing. Turn this way and answer me." 
 
 Oates : " I am not bound to answer that question." 
 Lord Chief Justice : " But you must answer his ques- 
 tions, if they be lawful." 
 
 After these aggravations Oates asked leave to retire 
 because, said he, " I am not well." 
 
 Lord Chief Justice : " You must stay, Dr. Oates, until 
 after their defence be over." Here, however, Jeffreys 
 tenderly interposed, " If you desire to have any refreshment, 
 you shall have it got for you." But all the slights put upon 
 the " saviour " during this trial could not extinguish his 
 passion for corroborative detail. He described with lifelike 
 irrelevance a little scene, which he averred he had witnessed 
 at Somerset House. A number of Jesuits were present, and 
 one after another, amid boisterous mirth, laid wagers as to 
 whether " the King should eat any more Christmas pies or 
 no." A Benedictine monk, Conyers, laid he would not. 
 
TITUS OATES. 127 
 
 and another gentleman laid he would. Marshall, who was 
 tried along with Wakeman, " went halves with Conyers he 
 would not." This is a good sample of Oates's evidence. 
 His memory was not good enough to save him from self- 
 contradiction. At the same time his dulness of perception 
 hid from him the full extent of his danger. So he trusted 
 without undue confidence to his unrivalled impudence, and 
 when in difficulty cast about for the first new lie that would 
 serve his turn for the moment. When hard pressed he 
 would shuffle and double and leave no stone unturned in his 
 efforts to divert attention from the main point. 
 
 Scroggs summed up the case in a manner very disparaging 
 to the evidence. " Look you, gentlemen, ... we would 
 not to prevent all their plots (let them be as big as they can 
 make them), shed one drop of innocent blood, therefore I 
 would have you, in all these gentlemen's cases, consider 
 seriously, and weigh truly the circumstances and the 
 probability of the things charged upon them." At the end 
 of the summing up Bedloe remonstrated, " My Lord, my 
 evidence is not right summed up." Lord Chief Justice 
 Scroggs : " I know not by what authority this man speaks." 
 The jury then, after asking if they might find the prisoners 
 guilty of misprision of treason, and being told they could not, 
 found all the prisoners " Not guilty." This case demolished 
 the plot as Ireland's had established it. All the regular 
 witnesses gave evidence here and all were disbelieved. If the 
 other prisoners had been rightly convicted, these men should 
 also have been convicted. But the question in this case 
 was rather the guilt of the Queen than that of the actual 
 prisoners. The day after the trial the Portuguese ambas- 
 sador, on behalf of Catherine, called on Scroggs and thanked 
 him for his services. Sir George Wakeman went beyond 
 the sea. Scroggs was charged with bribery. Gates com- 
 menced further disclosures with a view to keeping up the 
 excitement and fanning into renewed fervency the heat 
 against the Catholics. But the plot had received a blow 
 from which it never recovered. The acquittal ought to have 
 been a warning to Gates : it was a sign that a reaction had 
 commenced. In spite of certain appearances the King was 
 
128 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 even at this time the most potent factor in the direction of 
 events. He had witnessed, unmoved, the execution of 
 innocent men, but this attack upon the Queen viz.% not to 
 Charles's taste. " They think," he said, " I have a mind to 
 a new wife, but for all that I will not see an innocent woman 
 abused." 
 
 In spite of the waning prestige of the plot, another 
 life had to be sacrificed. But the final situation was due 
 to some rather special causes, and not so exclusively to 
 that " heap of infamy " called Gates. With a consistency 
 in crime that is at least extraordinary, Bedloe gave a death- 
 bed corroboration to the lies he had sworn to in the witness- 
 box. And the fact that he was a Protestant gained a credit 
 for his declaration which all the protestations of the Roman 
 Catholics on the scaffold had failed to obtain. Since the 
 time of Garnet, in fact, notions of Catholic equivocation 
 had gained acceptance, which caused the unsupported oath 
 of a Catholic to be considered a trifle light as air. The 
 inveteracy of Shaftesbury, who was anxious to turn the plot 
 to political account, to score victims of mark and raise the 
 proscription to a higher plane, co-operated with this dying 
 devil's asseveration to make the trial of at least one Catholic 
 Lord inevitable. The five Catholic Lords had been arrested 
 in Gctober, 1678, and on the 3rd of December following the 
 grand jury of Middlesex had found a true bill of high treason 
 against them. Notwithstanding these facts, the trial of the 
 first of them, William Howard, Viscount Stafford, was 
 delayed until November 30, 1680; Stafford, who was only 
 allowed to consult his counsel when points of law arose, 
 defended himself with greater ability than was anticipated. 
 Dugdale and Turberville, as well as Gates, bore false witness 
 against him, and their support was material, for the star of 
 Titus had already passed its apogee. Nevertheless Gates 
 swore that he had delivered a commission to Stafford from 
 the Pope as paymaster-general of the army which was to be 
 raised by the Catholics in this country. This was an overt 
 act of treason, but this part of the evidence was unsupported, 
 and Stafford objected that two witnesses were necessary to 
 prove such an act ; his plea was, however, overruled and the 
 
THUS OATES. 129 
 
 sequel is well known. The unhappy man was beheaded by 
 the King's special grace on December 29, 1680.' 
 
 These trials are to be read in the History of England, 
 but he that runs may not read the personal history of Titus 
 during this period. His varying fortunes are indeed difficult 
 to unravel, notwithstanding his activity and his efforts to 
 keep himself well before the public gaze. He began 1679 
 well, by preaching at Wood Street Church, and during the 
 next two years continued in great request in metropolitan 
 pulpits. Attempts were, it was alleged, made to kidnap him, 
 and, for the better security of his valuable person, he was, 
 by the King's special command, " gated " or confined during 
 the month of February to Whitehall and St. James's Park. 
 Various " infamous " Papists and others who attempted to 
 invalidate his testimony were arrested. One bright spot, 
 amid the universal gloom of sheepish infatuation, was the 
 refusal of Oxford University to grant him the D.D. degree. 
 The manner of the refusal was on this wise. In October, 
 1679, Lord Lovelace, the most headstrong young peer of the 
 country party until the notorious Lord Mohun took upon 
 himself the office of Whig bully and assassin, brought 
 Oates to Woodstock for a horse race, and procured him an 
 invitation to the town pulpit. His sermon over and the race 
 done, Oates had the effrontery to send word to the vice- 
 chancellor, with half-jocular familiarity, that "he would 
 come and wait on him, not surprise him for his degree " ; 
 but, in spite of this insolence, and the menaces of the mob, 
 
 ' In addition to those mentioned in the text, the following persons 
 owed their premature death primarily to Oates : Hill, Green, and 
 Berry, executed for Godfrey's murder; Edward Mice, S.J., arrested 
 by Oates while down with fever, and died in prison December 3, 
 1678 ; Thomas Muraford, alias Downes, alias Bedingfield, S.J., died 
 in the Gatehouse dungeon, December 21, 1678; Francis Cotton, alias 
 Neville, S.J., killed by being thrown downstairs by the pursuivants 
 who arrested him, in February, 1679 ; Thomas Jennison, S.J., died 
 in Newgate on September 25, 1679. Nine Jesuits were also executed 
 and four died in prison, in the provinces. Like his prototype, Judas, 
 Oates led in person the pursuivants, or others, who effected the 
 arrests. These were usually made in the dead of night and by 
 torchlight. 
 
 10 
 
I30 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 who shouted "Papists!" round their houses, the vice- 
 chancellor, Timothy Halton, Provost of Queen's College, and 
 Dr. Fell, took upon themselves, with memorable decency, to 
 utterly refuse to entertain the mock doctor's request. The 
 act was solitary. Apart from it Titus might have with 
 perfect truth uttered the words that were subsequently sung 
 in the streets of London : — 
 
 " No man durst thwart me : with desire of pelf 
 I rag'd and grew to such a peevish elf 
 Had the King vext me, I had peach't himself." 
 
 Amid all his new and multifarious " duties " Titus was 
 perfectly happy — he thoroughly enjoyed the bustle, the stir, 
 the hectoring in court, and the flight of " sweaty nightcaps " 
 afterwards. 
 
 Nor, amidst his other activities, was his pen idle. He 
 had gained literary experience during his apprenticeship in 
 Tonge's workshop, and he now wrote with more confidence, 
 greater ingenuity, and an infinitely better acquaintance with 
 his market. So, in 1679, besides official accounts of "the 
 damnable, &c., . . . Popish plot," Titus followed up his 
 previous colourless work on the "Mystery of Iniquity" by 
 his much more spicy " Pope's Warehouse ; or the Mer- 
 chandise of the Whore of Rome " : a catalogue of Romish 
 Cheats published for the confusion of the Romish Beast. 
 Among the reliques enumerated, he reflects with scurrilous 
 gusto upon " Our Lady's Milk," " The towel with which 
 Christ washed His disciples' feet," the " dice with which 
 the soldiers cast lots for His garment," one of " St. 
 Stephen's boots," and one of the Virgin Mary's slippers. He 
 concludes by congratulating the English public that as long 
 as the plot kept them alert they would be safe from the 
 cheats of the Pope and his Popelings. 
 
 In October of this year, his great reputation having sus- 
 tained without apparent injury the vexatious incident of 
 Wakeman's acquittal, he boldly accused by name to the 
 King a number of the Court officials ; on the other hand, 
 two ill-advised zealots, named Knox and Lane, were com- 
 
TITUS OATES. 131 
 
 mitted to the King's Bench Prison as " scandalisers " for 
 having dared to breathe a doubt upon his unimpeachable 
 integrity in the witness-box. He was evidently approaching 
 the zenith of his fortunes — the condition in which North 
 in his " Examen " quaintly styles " his trine exultation." 
 " His plot was now in full force, efficacy, and virtue ; he 
 walked about with his guards, assigned for fear of the 
 Papists naurdering him. He had lodgings in Whitehall, and 
 3^1,200 per annum pension ; and no wonder, after he had the 
 impudence to say to the House of Lords that if they would 
 not help him to more money he must be forced to help him- 
 self. He put on an episcopal garb (except the lawn sleeves), 
 silk gown and cassock, great hat, satin hatband and rose, 
 long scarf, and was called, or blasphemously called himself, 
 the saviour of the nation. Whoever he pointed at was taken 
 up and committed ; so many people got out of his way as 
 from a blast, and glad they could prove their last two years' 
 conversation. The very breath of him was pestilential." 
 
 His audacity is well illustrated by an incident which 
 Anthony k Wood relates. On October 21, 1679, as the 
 Duke of York was returning from the Lord Mayor's banquet, 
 Titus and Bedloe were stationed in a balcony, a sight for all 
 Protestant beholders, in the house of "a blink-eyed book- 
 seller named Cockeril, in Cheapside." A great rabble was 
 in the street below them, and, as the Duke passed by, Titus 
 led off a cry of " A pope ! A pope ! " Upon this one of the 
 Duke's guard cocked his pistol and rode back, exclaiming 
 fiercely, " What factious rogues are these ? " The fickle mob 
 vociferated " No pope ! No pope ! God bless his Highness." 
 As for Oates and his ally, when their admirers looked up to 
 the balcony, they had already vanished. 
 
 A little incident in the trial of Stafford is hardly less illus- 
 trative of the pitch of Titus's pretensions. The Lieutenant 
 of the Tower had called upon Oates to curb the excesses of 
 his satellites, who were mobbing the unfortunate nobleman 
 in the precincts of Westminster Hall. They were witnesses, 
 bawled Titus. " Not half of them are witnesses," said the 
 Lieutenant; "keep the curs down!" "You're only a 
 gaoler," impudently volleyed Oates, " but you're a rascal to 
 
132 TWELVE SAD MEN. 
 
 boot." The other retorted, " But for your cloth I'd break 
 your head." Serjeant Maynard felt constrained to take the 
 saviour's part. It did not become the Lieutenant for a word 
 to tell Mr. Oates he would break his head. " I should 
 not deserve to be the King's lieutenant," responded the 
 undaunted officer, stoutly, " if a man in another habit called 
 me rascal, and I not break his head." 
 
 But the climax was, perhaps, reached in January, 1680, 
 when Oates and Bedloe exhibited thirteen articles against 
 Scroggs before the King and his Council, for misdemeanours 
 in Court, browbeating evidence, and general dereliction of 
 duty. The Lord Chief Justice, he gravely alleged, was very 
 much addicted to swearing and cursing in his common 
 discourse ; he not only drank to excess, but got drunk on 
 prohibited wines. Oates even told the Lords of the Council "y' 
 he woud not positively say it, but he beleeved he shou'd be 
 able to prove that my lord Ch. Justice danced naked " ! 
 When, however, the time came for a final hearing of these 
 charges Titus found his audience not oversympathetic. 
 Scroggs met the charges with skill and temper, and turned 
 upon his assailants with so much blended wit and severity 
 that they were glad to slink from his presence confuted, and 
 for once thoroughly abashed. It is not surprising to 
 hear that from this time the Chief Justice frowned 
 upon them, spoke frowardly, and reflected much upon 
 them. 
 
 The turning-point in their fortunes was at hand. In June, 
 1680, in spite of Oates's and Dangerfield's evidence, Lord 
 Castlemaine was declared not guilty and discharged. In the 
 following month the saviour's pension was reduced from 
 ten pounds to forty shillings a week. But his decline 
 and fall was not quite so rapid as this reduction might 
 seem to indicate. The pension was raised again to 
 sixty shillings weekly, and in September Simpson Tonge, 
 the "unnatural son" of Israel of that ilk, was com- 
 mitted to Newgate for endeavouring to defame Oates, 
 " his guilt being very plain." Titus was compensated for 
 the annoyance of such litigation by a commission to search 
 a Roman Catholic nunnery and boarding school at Hammer- 
 
TITUS OATES. 133 
 
 smith." His effrontery was still unabated. Dining with the 
 Bishop of Ely and Reresby in December of this year, he 
 reflected upon the Duke of York and upon the Queen 
 Dowager in such an outrageous manner as to disgust the 
 most extreme partisan present. Yet " no one dared to 
 contradict him for fear of being made party to the plot," 
 and, when Reresby himself finally ventured to intervene, 
 Oates "left the room in some heat," to the dismay of 
 several present. The last of the perjurer's victims, a priest 
 named Atwood, was convicted in February, 1681, but was 
 reprieved by the King. In April, 1682, Oates's pension was 
 again reduced to two pounds a week, and in August his enemies 
 were strong enough to forbid him to come to Court and to 
 abolish his pension altogether. He took refuge in the City 
 amid the taunts of the Court poets. Safe in Broad Street 
 he disregarded the horrible accusations made against him. 
 The City dames were specially warned against an individual 
 whose appearance is minutely set forth in Sir Roger 
 L'Estrange's " Hue and Cry after Dr. 0. : O yes ! yes ! . . . 
 A Salamanca Doctor, lost, stolen, stray'd, banish'd, or kid- 
 napp'd out of Whitehall on Tuesday last. His marks are : 
 The off leg behind something shorter than the other, and 
 cloven foot on the nether side ; his face rainbow colour, and 
 the rest of his body black. Two slouching ears ready to be 
 cropped the next spring if they do not drop off before, . . . 
 a short neck, which makes him defie the pillory, and thin 
 chin and somewhat sharp, bending up to his nose ; he hath 
 few or no teeth in the upper jaw, but bites with his tongue. 
 His voice something resembles that of the Guinney pigs. 
 His eyes are very small and sunk, and he is supposed to be 
 either thick ey'd or moon blind, by reason that he did not 
 know Coleman by candle light, though he had before sworn 
 treason against him. . . . His food is the intrals and bloud 
 of Loyalists ; he drinks the tears of widows and orphans. 
 . . . His usual haunts are Dick's Coffee-house in Aldersgate ' 
 Street. . . ." Let us break off in time, however, and collate 
 this cameo of Dryden : — 
 
 ^ Lyson's " Environs of London," vol. ii. p. 420, under Fulham. 
 
134 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 " Sunk were his eyes, his voice was harsh and loud, 
 Sure signs he neither cholerick was nor proud, 
 His long chin proved his wit ; his saint-like grace 
 A church vermilion and a Moses face." 
 
 The allusions to the exaggerated breadth of his speech are 
 numerous, and not without good cause, if, as we are assured, 
 he habitually spoke after this fashion : " Maay Laaid Chaife 
 Jaistaice, whaay thais baisness of Baidlaw (Bedloe) cairns 
 to naithaing." 
 
 In the City Titus found abundance of sympathy and sup- 
 port, but it was by this time fairly plain that the plot, as a 
 source of revenue, was utterly played out. The liar began 
 casting about, accordingly, for new victims, and his first 
 choice was not a happy one. The purposed victim was a 
 certain parson named Adam Elliot, who had been a slave 
 in Barbary. Titus alleged, his allegation being based upon 
 information acquired " at Salamanca," that Elliot had 
 turned Mahommedan during his captivity, and having thus 
 obtained the relaxation of his bonds, had murdered his 
 master and effected his escape. This wayward excursion 
 from the beaten path of his perjuries was, by a singular 
 coincidence, confuted by the testimony of the very 
 " murdered " master under whom Elliot had served. This 
 worthy follower of the Prophet happened to be in London 
 in the train of the Emperor of Morocco's ambassador at the 
 time of Oates's accusation. He strenuously denied that 
 Elliot had ever turned Mahommedan, and as strenuously 
 asserted his indefeasible right to carry him back as his 
 slave to Morocco. Elliot retorted with a charge of slander 
 against Titus, and claimed five hundred pounds damages, 
 without, however, finding a jury to convict. ^ This was in 
 
 ' Elliot subsequently got ;^2o damages of Gates for defamation 
 of character. Oates's deposition against him, and his exhaustive 
 and well-seasoned answer to the charges therein contained, are well 
 worth reading. They are fully set out in Elliot's " Modest Vindica- 
 tion of Titus Gates, the Salamanca Doctor, from Perjury; or, an Essay 
 to demonstrate him only forsworn in several instances." London, 
 fol. 1682. For the Morocco Embassy, see some details in the 
 Hatton Correspondence (Camden Society). 
 
TITUS OATES. 135 
 
 January, 1682. An infallible sign of the disrepute into 
 which the liar felt himself to be falling was given in the 
 following June, when he did not venture to put in an appear- 
 ance as evidence against Kearney (one of the "four Irish 
 ruffians" who were to have beaten the King to death), who 
 was in consequence released for want of evidence. 
 
 The year 1683 is almost a blank as far as personal details 
 of Gates are concerned, save for several unsuccessful attempts 
 to indict him for a penal offence, and the appearance of a 
 pamphlet for the instruction of confessing plotters, entitled, 
 " The Auricular Confession of Titus Gates to the Salamanca 
 doctor, his confessor." Titus is here depicted confessing 
 freely to apostasy, perjury, " as natural to me as milk 
 to a calf," atheism, "to know and not to know a man at 
 the same time," cum multis aliis, including treason, rape, 
 "with numerous peccadilloes unbecoming the grandeur of so 
 culminate a delinquent." As Charles II. approached his 
 end the tide ran more unmistakably in favour of the 
 Roman Catholics. In May, 1684, the Duke of York felt 
 justified in instituting a civil suit against Gates for defa- 
 matory language. Witness after witness appeared to testify 
 to the use of the words complained of, and Jeffreys, who 
 had now assumed the ermine, interposed remarks anent the 
 moral character of the defendant, which contrast strangely 
 with his demeanour towards him when, as Recorder, he had 
 appeared for the Crown against Coleman and the rest. The 
 jury gave damages to the enormous extent of a hundred 
 thousand pounds, and Titus was thrown into a debtor's 
 prison pending the full payment of that amount. His 
 imprisonment may well have been solaced by the expecta- 
 tion of favours to come. His passion for public display 
 was yet to receive striking satisfaction. It was probably 
 by order from the court that, although he was only tech- 
 nically a prisoner for debt, the authorities of the King's 
 Bench prison loaded him with heavy irons. Nor were 
 these precautions unnecessary. His devotees were still 
 numerous and undismayed. The mastiff that guarded his 
 door was poisoned, and on the very night preceding his final 
 trial a ladder of ropes was introduced into the cell. 
 
1 36 T WEL VE BAD MEN. 
 
 James II. had not been long upon the throne before his 
 trial for perjury was proceeded with. There were two 
 indictments— the charges being divided under two heads. 
 First, that Titus had falsely sworn to a consult of Jesuits 
 held at the White Horse Tavern on April 24, 1678, at which 
 the King's murder was resolved upon. Secondly, that 
 he had falsely sworn that William Ireland was in London 
 between the 8th and 12th of August in the same year. 
 
 The first trial commenced at the King's Bench on the 8th 
 of May, 1685. Oates never appeared to such advantage as 
 when defending himself against overwhelming odds. Neither 
 pluck nor consistency had been required of him before, but 
 he now gave evidence of both qualities. His long frequenta- 
 tion of Westminster Hall gave him a familiarity with every 
 portion of procedure, of which he took ample advantage. 
 He challenged nearly every juror; he interrupted Jeffreys, 
 insisted upon being heard, and showed himself in his treat- 
 ment of witnesses an apt pupil of the then Chief Justice 
 and his predecessor. He gave Jeffreys back every bit as 
 good as he received. It was, if ever, a case of arcades 
 amho : cither might have taken the other's place with 
 perfect propriety. 
 
 The second trial took place on the following day. Oates's 
 energy sensibly declined, but he nevertheless questioned all 
 the numerous witnesses as to their religious opinions, and 
 tried to convict them of inconsistency and error with 
 regard to dates. Jeffreys was bubbling over with vivacity. 
 Speaking of Ireland's movements, the Attorney- General 
 remarked, " We shall prove that he [Ireland] went to Mr. 
 Gerrard's at Hildersham ; there he was on August the 31st 
 and 32nd." Lord Chief Justice : " How, Mr. Attorney, the 
 32nd ! I doubt you will hardly be able to tell us where he 
 was then." The Attorney spoke of September ist, when 
 Oates had sworn that Ireland was in town. A whole cloud 
 of witnesses now gave evidence to the contrary. Similar 
 evidence had as conclusively proved alibis in the former trials, 
 but in 1679 London juries believed that Catholic statements 
 proved their opposites. Oates's defence was full and fluent 
 in the extreme. He spoke of the hardship involved in his 
 
TITUS OATES. 137 
 
 being hauled over the coals, after an interval of six years, 
 for minute inaccuracies as to dates; he laid great stress upon 
 the injury done to his cause by the refusal of the judges to 
 allow him to call as witnesses certain of his old cronies, who 
 were in Newgate. He quoted Scroggs's former animadver- 
 sions upon the credibility of Catholic evidence with very con- 
 siderable effect. At times he rose to a pitch of eloquence. 
 With regard to the Papists, they had all, he said, been 
 parties to the plot, and their evidence should not be 
 admitted. " For," he went on, " there is a turn to be 
 served by them against me, and a revenge they are resolved 
 to take upon me ; for they have hopes now of bringing in 
 their religion, and are to welcome it with my ruin ; and this 
 is the cause of this prosecution. Their eyes do see now 
 what their hearts so long desired, that is, the death of a 
 great man who died but lately [Shaftesbury], and against 
 whose life they had conspired so often and so long. My 
 lord, if this had been the first conspiracy that ever the 
 Papists were guilty of, there might have been some more 
 scruple and objection in the case ; but if you cast your eyes 
 upon Campion and others in Queen Elizabeth's time ; of 
 Garnet and the powder-Jesuits in King James's time ; and 
 the designs of the Popish party in the time of the late King 
 Charles the first, discovered to the Archbishop of Canterbury; 
 if these things do pass for truth and there is no averment 
 against so many records as we have of these conspiracies, 
 then my discovery is no such improbable a thing : and I 
 hope then the gentlemen of the jury will take it into their 
 considerations, who they are that are witnesses in this case ; 
 men whose very religion is rebellion, and whose principles 
 and practices are pernicious to the Government, and thereby 
 they are to be looked upon as dangerous persons in Church 
 and State." ^ 
 
 But all this eloquence availed him nothing. Jeffreys 
 summed up with tremendous force against the prisoner — 
 not forgetting to give occasional vent to the passionate fury 
 he knew so well how to simulate. " Is it not a shame to 
 this land," he burst out, " that it should be remembered 
 ' Cobbett's "State Trials," vol. x. p. 1290. 
 
138 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 what one of the witnesses this day testifieth — that when 
 Gates came to appear at the Council Table to attest a 
 matter of fact, before this innocent blood was spilt (for so 
 I must call it, if that which has been sworn this day is 
 true), the rabble should be so boisterous as to cry out, 
 'Where is that villain that dares come to give evidence 
 against Gates, the saviour of the nation ? ' Gh, horrid 
 blasphemy ! that no less an epithet should be given to such 
 a profligate wretch as Gates, than that which is only proper 
 to our Blessed Head. As though Gates had merited more 
 than all mankind ! and so indeed he has, if we take it in a 
 true sense. He has deserved much more punishment than 
 the laws of this land can inflict ! " Thus were juries 
 charged in the good old times of the Stuarts. 
 
 With regard to the credibility of the Catholic evidence, 
 the Chief Justice asserted, with a vehemence which ex- 
 ceeded the present occasion, though seven years back it 
 would have been praiseworthy enough, " This I am sure 
 of, lying is as much the talent and inclination of a Presby- 
 terian as ever it can be of a Papist : nay more, for it is as 
 inseparably incident in a Presbyterian (and such sniveling, 
 whining, canting knaves) to lie as to speak. They can 
 no more forbear lying than they can forbear speaking ; for 
 generally as often as they do the one they do the other." 
 He, moreover, adjured the court, with the utmost solem- 
 nity, to take this opportunity of effacing the unenviable 
 stigma of a partial and sectarian justice. " Gentlemen, 
 I hope all eyes are opened (I wish they had been so long 
 since) ; let us lay the burden, the infamy and reproach of 
 those things, upon them that deserve it ; for we cannot but 
 know, we are reckoned as a byword to all our neighbours, 
 and shall remain monuments of ignominy to all succeeding 
 ages and times if we do not endeavour to discharge ourselves 
 and our religion and the justice of our nation from these 
 scandals." 
 
 The jury returned to the bar after half an hour's recess, 
 and delivered a verdict of " Guilty." The prisoner was 
 allowed eight days to move in arrest of judgment. The 
 defendant's exceptions to judgment as prepared by his 
 
TITUS OATES. 139 
 
 counsel, Mr. Wallop, were then read, and answered in due 
 course by the Attorney-General. Jeffreys once more summed 
 up, and after some consultation with his brothers, deputed 
 Sir Francis Withins to pronounce the sentence, which was 
 as follows : — 
 
 " First, The Court does order for a fine that you pay 1,000 
 marks upon each Indictment. 
 
 " Secondly, that you be stript of all your Canonical Habits. 
 
 "Thirdly, The Court does award. That you do stand 
 upon the Pillory and in the Pillory, here before Westminster- 
 hall-gate, upon Monday next for an hour's time between the 
 hours of 10 and 13 ; with a paper over your head (which you 
 must first walk with round about to all the courts in West- 
 minster Hall) declaring your crime. And that is upon the 
 first Indictment. 
 
 " Fourthly, (in the second Indictment) upon Tuesday you 
 shall stand upon and in the Pillory, at the Royal Exchange 
 in London, for the space of an hour, between the hours of 
 12 and 2 ; with the same inscription. 
 
 "You shall upon the next Wednesday be whipped from 
 Aldgate to Newgate. Upon Friday you shall be whipped 
 from Newgate to Tyburn, by the hands of the common 
 hangman. 
 
 " But Mr. Gates we cannot but remember, there were 
 several particular times you swore false about : and there- 
 fore as annual commemorations, that it may be known to 
 all people as long as you live, we have taken special care of 
 you for an annual punishment. 
 
 "Upon the 24th of April every year as long as you live, 
 you are to stand upon the Pillory and in the Pillory at 
 Tyburn just opposite the gallows for the space of an hour 
 between the hours of 10 and 12. 
 
 " You are to stand upon and in the Pillory here at West- 
 minster Hall Gate, every gth of August so long as you live. 
 And that it may be known what we mean by it, 'tis to 
 remember what he swore about Mr. Ireland's being in town 
 between the 8th and 12th of August. 
 
 " You are to stand upon and in the Pillory at Charing 
 Cross on the loth of August every year during your life, for 
 
140 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 an hour between lo and 12. The like over against Temple 
 Gate on the nth. 
 
 "And upon the 2nd of September (which is another 
 notorious time which you cannot but be remembered of) 
 you are to stand upon and in the Pillory, for the space of 
 one hour, between twelve and two, at the Royal Exchange : 
 and all this you are to do every year during your life ; and 
 to be committed close prisoner as long as you live. 
 
 "This I pronounce to be the judgment of the Court upon 
 you for your offences. And I must tell you plainly, if it 
 had been in my power to have carried it further, I should 
 not have been unwilling to have given judgment of death 
 upon you ; for I am sure you deserve it." 
 
 Then the prisoner was taken away. 
 
 III. 
 
 Every beast, says Villon, clings bitterly to a whole skin. 
 As late as May 19th Titus was fairly confident, yet on the 
 20th dawned the day of his memorable laceration. His 
 enemies trembled lest he should swallow poison, and every 
 precaution was taken. Death would have seemed to all but 
 the mob a preferable penalty, but Oates's offences technically 
 only amounted to misdemeanour, and Jeffreys, with the best 
 intentions in the world, was unable to punish him as a felon. 
 The anomaly had been noted with a view to coming events 
 by an ingenious pamphleteer, who reflected in 1685 upon the 
 "Inconveniences attending wilful and malicious perjury; 
 with some reason why such crimes ought to be made felony." 
 Before Coke's time " Taitus " would have been summarily 
 strung up as an approver, i.e., a King's evidence who, con- 
 fessing his own guilt, has accused an accomplice who has 
 been proved guiltless. The times were now more lenient, 
 and Tyburn in a " Courteous Invitation to the Salamanca 
 Doctor," deplored the loss of a monster 
 
 " For whom my triple Arms extended were 
 (To hug with close embraces) many a year." 
 
TITUS DATES. 141 
 
 The accounts given of Oates's punishment are various and 
 conflicting, but the task of equating the discrepancies, such 
 as they are, is a simple one. There was no real doctor pro- 
 vided to take the sham one's temperature or feel his pulse 
 at periods during the course ; still less a reporter to accom- 
 pany the procession with a kodak, and give his successive 
 impressions, or an accommodating interviewer to ask the 
 victim precisely how he felt as he adjusted his gabardine 
 over his dripping shoulders. Crowds of people turned out 
 to see him, but some witnessed the show at its commence- 
 ment near Aldgate, others at the conclusion near Newgate, 
 and the demeanour of the patient changed sensibly as he 
 proceeded. Abraham de la Pryme in his diary narrates how, 
 at his father's house in Yorkshire, in 1686, from the lips of 
 one Nat Reading, newly come from London, he heard that 
 Gates was whipt most miserably. "As he was haild up the 
 streets the multitude would pitty him and w* cry to the 
 hangman, ' Enough, enough ! Strike easily enough ! ' To 
 whom Mr. Oats reply'd, turning his head cheerfully behind 
 him, ' Not enough good people for the truth, not enough.' " 
 
 This is sublime, but it was merely the lever de rideau of 
 what was perhaps the cruellest bit of torture ever inflicted in 
 these islands — one which we are expressly told was of an 
 extreme severity, such as was unknown to the English 
 nation. So exceptional, in fact, was the exhibition that a 
 man of such humanity and good taste as John Evelyn him- 
 self could not forbear the temptation of a glimpse at it, and 
 " chanc'd to pass just as execution was doing on him." 
 The executioner was the notorious Ketch, the wretch who 
 gave chop after chop with lingering gusto before he could 
 bring himself to despatch Russell or Monmouth. He was 
 readily accessible to bribes, it is true, and at the execution of 
 Stephen College, "the Protestant joiner," in 1681, he is 
 described as "most civil — thanks to the 5 guennies his 
 [College's] relations gave him — permitting him to hang until 
 in most men's opinion he was quite dead, before he cut him 
 down, quartered him and burnt his bowels." From an 
 executioner so scrupulously considerate, Gates might have 
 anticipated similar courtesy, but unfortunately, on this 
 
142 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 particular occasion, he had been approached, not by 
 Oates's own friends, but by those of his victims. So 
 after a few hundred of this conjuror's strokes, Titus 
 began to bound about behind the cart, and then to plunge 
 despairingly. His shrieks descended the scale until his 
 "hideous bellowings" resembled those of a bull, and he 
 " swounded several times with the greatness of the anguish." 
 The blood ran down in rivulets, but the scourge still con- 
 tinued to descend. The barbarity of such a flogging far 
 transcended the military scourgings in Ireland, or those in 
 the navy in its worst days ; it approached much more nearly 
 the barbarous executions under the Russian knout or the old 
 Roman flagellum.^ The fact that Oates's frame proved 
 capable of standing such " inexpressible torments," as he 
 afterwards described them, is a marvel, and was regarded 
 as providential by his remaining partisans. It seemed 
 impossible that he should survive the second part of his 
 sentence. James was entreated to remit the supplementary 
 flogging ; but he was as obdurate as he showed himself a 
 few months later to the miserable Monmouth, as, tied with 
 the silken cord, he writhed and crawled before him. He 
 shall go through with it, protested James, if he has breath 
 in his body. On May the 22nd the mangled frame of Gates 
 was hoisted out of his dungeon. He was quite unable to 
 stand, and seemed insensible ; it was believed that he had 
 stupefied himself with spirit. The carcass was attached to 
 a tumbrel and dragged along a sullen and unresisting prey 
 to the merciless Ketch. The worthy Edmund Calamy saw 
 the second whipping, when the victim's back, " miserably 
 swelled with his first whipping, looked as if it had been 
 flayed." An assiduous spectator counted seventeen hun- 
 dred stripes. In all he received not less than three thousand 
 lashes. " Such a thing was never inflicted by any Jew, 
 Turk, or Heathen, but Jeffries." The doors of Newgate at 
 last closed upon him. His subsequent sufferings are thus 
 by himself described : He lay ten weeks under the surgeon's 
 hands, and after, by God's mercy (and the extraordinary 
 
 ' Partridge's Almanack for 1692 states incidentally that Gates 
 " was whip't with a whip of six thongs." 
 

 GATES — HIS DEGREES. 
 
TITUS OATES. 143 
 
 skill of a judicious chirurgeon), he had outlived their bloody 
 usage, his enemies, still inveterate, penetrated his prison, 
 attempted to pull off the plasters applied to cure his back, 
 and threatened to destroy him ; then they procured him to 
 be loaded with irons of excessive weight for a whole year 
 without any intermission, even when his legs were swollen 
 with the gout, and to be shut up in the dungeon or hole of the 
 prison; whereby he became impaired in his limbs and con- 
 tracted convulsions, fits, and other distempers. It was said 
 that in his cell he gave himself up to melancholy, and sate 
 whole days uttering deep groans, his arms folded, and his 
 hat pulled over his eyes. In 1688 the plausible rumour that 
 he was dead gained a wide circulation. Yet the second part 
 of his sentence was not forgotten, and notices appeared in 
 the newspapers from time to time that Gates stood in the 
 pillory by the Royal Exchange and elsewhere in accordance 
 with the terms of his sentence. 
 
 Oates's prison amusements seem to have taken the form of 
 a little pamphlet entitled, " Sound Advice to Roman Catho- 
 lics, Especially the Residue of Poor, Seduced, and Deluded 
 Papists in England, who obstinately shut both eyes and 
 ears against the clearest Light of the Gospel of Christ." 
 His apprenticeship under Tonge made this kind of work easy 
 to Titus, and he probably regarded such productions as one 
 of the minor obligations of his vocation. The work mainly 
 consists of an enumeration of what are called " Popish 
 Pranks," and contains a variety of novel information. Here 
 are details respecting Pope Joan ; how Adrian IV. fell out 
 with the Emperor of Germany for holding his wrong stirrup; 
 how Celestine III. crowned the Emperor and Empress with 
 his feet, kicking off their crowns again with his toe ; how 
 Nicolas III. begot a bastard son with claws and hair like a 
 bear — with other details, more or less edifying. 
 
 The London mob was far too Protestant to hold Gates in 
 any very rooted abhorrence. Before the revolution was so 
 much as dreamt of the multitude received him on the plat- 
 form " with shouts in favour of the sorry fellow, and against 
 the Catholics." ^ And more than this, on the days when he 
 
 ' See Sarotti's Letter quoted in iVfl^. Observer, December 31, 1892. 
 
144 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 suffers, writes Sarotti, the Venetian ambassador, to the 
 Signory, the people neither inflict, nor permit any to inflict 
 upon him the least hurt either by word or deed, as is done 
 to others who undergo this punishment.^ On the contrary 
 he is consoled by'numerous and devoted sympathisers with 
 the title of martyr and the gift of hundreds of five-shilling 
 pieces ; and other presents are sent to him in prison (he had 
 been removed from Newgate to the King's Bench in South- 
 wark), where he spends his days joyfully and comfortably in 
 the company of the gaolers and his own friends. 
 
 This account, so conflicting with the liar's own pitiful 
 tale, is doubtless somewhat coloured by the facile pen of a 
 Roman Catholic alarmist, but it may be regarded as certain 
 that very considerable relaxations had been made in the 
 treatment to which Gates was subjected before the actual 
 downfall of the Stuart regime. The feeling which prompted 
 the universal joy- at the acquittal of the seven bishops 
 may be safely taken to have included his gaolers, who 
 would be readily disposed to regard Gates somewhat in the 
 light of a Protestant martyr. That such an one should sigh 
 for a Protestant wind was only natural, and here again 
 the liar doubtless met with sympathy from the staunch 
 Protestantism of his environment. In August, 1688, this 
 feeling took a concrete form in the shape of an illegitimate 
 son borne of a Protestant bed-maker in the King's Bench 
 Prison. The fact was, by Wood's account, the common 
 report in London. There is little doubt that, from a 
 period anterior to the fall of 1688, Gates had begun to 
 look forward to a career of renewed usefulness and 
 prosperity. The Prince of Grange reached London in De- 
 cember, 1688, and before many weeks had elapsed the Har, 
 who had promptly emerged from prison, was presented to 
 William III., who received him " very kindly." Gn March 31, 
 
 ' Cases of death resulting from injuries inflicted upon persons in 
 the pillory were by no means rare. A notorious case was that of 
 "Mother Needham," the simpering procuress of the first plate of 
 Hogarth's Harlot's Progress, who, in spite of the strenuous efforts 
 made by certain persons to protect her, was so pelted by the mob, 
 in 1731, that she died before her sentence could be completed. 
 
TITUS OATES. I45 
 
 i68g, he addressed to the House of Lords a long and effusive 
 petition for redress, a comprehensive request in which the 
 reversal of his sentence was evidently regarded as merely an 
 item. Early in April the matter of the judgment in Oates's 
 case came up for debate in the Upper Souse. Sir Robert 
 Holloway and Sir Francis Withins, who had shared Jeffreys' 
 bench, attended at the bar of the House of Lords to defend 
 their sentence. Recondite precedents were proffered by 
 them. If Coke and Bracton savoured insufficiently of the 
 antique, there was a tongue-tearing law of Edward the Con- 
 fessor against perjury. Had not Nabal, moreover, lost his 
 life for a false oath ? Lord Chief Justice Holt reserved his 
 counterblast. It came, however, on May 31st, weighted 
 with learning and wealth of precedent. Unreasonable whip- 
 ping or torture of any kind, he argued, was inhuman, and, 
 surprising corollary, unjust. Augustus, being invited to sup 
 with PoUio, set a wretch free whom Pollio had ordered to 
 be put into a pond of lampreys, to be gnawed to death for 
 breaking some glasses. This whipping had been exorbitant ; 
 it was also " erroneous " put in Lechmere, and " never 
 practised before in the lower part of Westminster Hall." 
 " No gentleman was to be whipt," so the Lords had decided 
 in Flood's case. As to the whipping, interpolated Eyre, it 
 is plainly a villainous judgment, let Bracton say what he 
 please. St. Paul redeemed himself by saying he was a free 
 citizen ; Gates had asserted that it was contrary to Magna 
 Carta and against the liberty of a freeman of this kingdom. 
 That Gates was not a saint, much less a gentleman, seemed 
 immaterial. Then as to other parts of the sentence. Im- 
 prisonment for life was of doubtful validity. The unfrocking 
 could not be inflicted by a temporal court, therefore the 
 whole sentence is void. Tumbrels were for common bawds, 
 Titus was not a common bawd, argal the sentence ought to 
 be reversed. So argued these learned ermined casuists, and 
 described the sentence to Parliament as erroneous, cruel, and 
 illegal. 
 
 But all this legal incubation took time, and Gates was 
 getting impatient. Consequently, while the case was yet 
 being debated in the Lords, he unadvisedly sent in a petition 
 
 II 
 
146 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 for a bill to reverse his sentence to the Commons. So 
 querulous and snappish were the two Houses at this period 
 in their mutual relations that for a time it seemed highly- 
 probable that the ever-egregious Oates would be the occasion 
 of a very pretty little quarrel between them. The Lords had 
 qualms about the rehabilitation of such a reptile, which the 
 Commons were utterly unable to understand. The Com- 
 mons were for passing a bill of reversal forthwith. The 
 feeling in the Lords was adequately expressed by the Duke 
 of Leeds. A perjured scoundrel demanded the reversal of 
 his sentence. Well, he had already been whipped from 
 Newgate to Tyburn. Let their Lordships literally reverse 
 his sentence by ordering him to be whipped from Tyburn to 
 Newgate. Meanwhile the Upper House committed the liar 
 to prison for breach of privilege. 
 
 On May 30th he petitioned the Lords to pardon any offence 
 committed by inadvertence or ignorance, but was informed 
 that exception was taken to his signing himself D.D. He 
 answered that he was a D.D. of Salamanca. The explana- 
 tion (which must have sounded something like a stale joke) 
 was regarded by the Lords in the light of an impertinence. 
 He was told to withdraw, and on appearing again was 
 ordered to strike out D.D., which he said he could not do 
 out of conscience, and was therefore remanded to prison. 
 Affairs were complicated by the intervention of the King, 
 who seems to have granted Oates a pardon in June; but 
 this did not affect his recent misdemeanour, and Titus- 
 remained in the Marshalsea deriving what comfort he could 
 from a donation of fifty pounds sent him in August by the 
 Duke of Bolton. 
 
 The Reversal of Sentence Bill was all the while under 
 discussion ; the Commons pressing for its completion, the 
 Lords bent on diverting it by means of amendments. The 
 matter occasioned a heated conference between the Houses 
 on the 13th of August, i68g, when the Commons dissented 
 from all the amendments to which the Upper House resolved 
 to adhere. The pourparlers proving abortive, the Commons 
 anxiously demanded a fresh conference, to which the Lords 
 diplomatically responded by appointing a committee to search. 
 
TITUS DATES. 147 
 
 after precedents for a conference after a resolution to adhere 
 to amendments. The search appears to have been fruitless. 
 But the Commons returned to the subject with unabated 
 ardour a few days later, and a serious difference might have 
 ensued but for the prorogation of Parliament on the 20th of the 
 month. The I^ords had creditably and successfully obstructed 
 the passage of an ugly and superfluous bill, rendered still 
 uglier by its precious preamble to the effect that the sentence 
 was " of evil example to all future ages." The prorogation 
 had the effect of setting the liar free. Scowling, cursing and 
 abusing all parties, but particularly his friends, for their 
 ingratitude, he once more defiled th ■; earth, was once more 
 seen in the presence chamber, and obtained from the King, 
 at the earnest request of his faithful Commons, a pension 
 of five pounds a week. So were the Lords spited and the 
 liar paid for the dirtiest work ever yet done for a party. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Titus Gates was once more at large, but he felt that his 
 individuality was gone, and that his life must henceforth 
 be maimed and incomplete. An act of grace had restored 
 him his freedom, but his sentence was still legally in force, 
 and, as a convicted perjurer, his testimony remained invalid 
 in a court of law. His extraordinary talents were in na 
 wise impaired, but rather the reverse, from a period of 
 disuse, yet by a refinement of cruelty he was wholly de- 
 barred from exercising them. 
 
 Titus was, in short, by way of falling a prey to a form 
 of melancholy, to which even Burton was a stranger, when 
 his interest in life was all at once revived by a prospect of 
 vicarious perjury, and a finger in a new plot, conceived on 
 a scale worthy of the liar's own inventiveness and ambition. 
 Popish plots were now quite out of date ; Whigs' plots paid 
 • no longer; but for Jacobite plots might there not be a. 
 glorious future yet in store ? One William Fuller, who> 
 had from his youth been brought up to regard Gates as 
 the cleverest and greatest of created beings, was at least 
 
148 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 resolved to test their capabilities. For a brief description 
 of this neophyte's intimate obligations to the patriarch and 
 patron saint of perjurers, it were futile to attempt to super- 
 sede the classical passage in Macaulay, based as it is upon 
 the autobiography of William Fuller himself. 
 
 " In 1691, Titus, in order to be near the focal point of 
 political intrigue and faction, had taken a house within the 
 precinct of Whitehall. To this house Fuller, who lived 
 hard by, found admission. ... A friendship, if that word 
 may be so used, sprang up between the pair. Gates opened 
 his house, and even his purse, to Fuller. The veteran 
 sinner, both directly and through the agency of his de- 
 pendents, intimated to the novice that nothing made a 
 man so important as the discovery of a plot, and that these 
 were times when a young fellow who would stick at nothing 
 and fear nobody might do wonders. The revolution — such 
 was the language constantly held by Titus and his parasites 
 — had done little good. The brisk boys of Shaftesbury had 
 not been recompensed according to their merits. Even 
 the Doctor — such was the ingratitude of men — was looked 
 coldly on at the new Court. Tory rogues sate at the Council 
 board, and were admitted to the royal closet. It would 
 be a noble feat to bring their necks to the block." Then 
 Gates, with the authority which experience and success 
 entitle a preceptor to assume, read his pupil a lecture on 
 the art of bearing false witness. " You ought," he said, 
 with many oaths and curses, " to have made more, much 
 more, out of what you heard and saw at St. Germains. 
 Never was there a finer foundation for a plot. But you 
 are a fool : you are a coxcomb : I could beat you : I would 
 not have done so. I used to go to Charles and tell him 
 his own. I called Lauderdale names to his face. I made 
 King, Ministers, Lords, Commons afraid of me. But you 
 young men have no spirit." Fuller was greatly edified by 
 these exhortations, but after a time he felt it inexpedient 
 for him to be seen in company with Titus Gates. And even- 
 tually his plot missed fire— and he himself was exposed. 
 
 Titus was again reduced to chew the cud of bitter fancy. 
 His jawbone was powerless, and the impenitent perjurer 
 
TITUS OATES. i49 
 
 " mourned like a turtle " over the dreariness of existence. 
 The sense of unrequited services was intolerable, and he 
 continued to rail against the faithlessness of princes and the 
 ingratitude of ministers, until a check was administered to 
 him by the reduction of his pension. Titus was summoned 
 before the Council in May, 1693, and the lid of the secret 
 service coffer rapped sharply down over his avaricious fingers. 
 
 It may safely be assumed that it was " chest " trouble 
 which caused him at this precise conjuncture to cast 
 about for a " doe," and, though passing strange, it is 
 true that, in spite of the notorious infamy of his past, a 
 lady with the required means was actually forthcoming. 
 " On the i8th of August, 1693, Dr. Otes was married to 
 Mrs. Margaret Wells of Bread Street (whose former 
 husband was a Muggletonian, and she continu'd of the 
 same persuasion)." She possessed £2,000 in money, and 
 mighty little in the way of looks — a source of gratification, 
 it is said, to the doctor, who was, however, greatly impressed 
 "by the gravity and goodness of her person." The marriage 
 caused the utmost astonishment at Garraway's and the 
 coffee-houses generally, where nothing else was talked about 
 for a whole day, and unspeakable pleasantries were circu- 
 lated. A plate depicting the wedding is given in the fourth 
 volume of Tom Brown's collected works. The bridegroom 
 stands in the foreground, attired as a monk, and a grinning 
 satyr is knotting a cord round him and the fair Wells, while, 
 in the background, a fresco of the burning of Sodom is 
 conspicuous. " The Salamanca Wedding," Brown's pam- 
 phlet celebrating the event, was so exceptionally scandalous 
 that the author was arrested and imprisoned by order of the 
 council. 
 
 Having now exhausted the occupations of every other 
 circle of the Rogue's Inferno to which his terrestrial activities 
 were confined, Oates still felt an unsatisfied corner of 
 ambition in the direction of nasal psalmody. The same 
 sort of mental, or ventral, twist which precipitates a well- 
 steeped cynic into Papistry of ultramontane variety, caused 
 in Titus a hankering after utterance from the pulpit of 
 a Baptist conventicle. He appears to have been finally 
 
ISO TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 restored to the bosom of the sect towards the end of 
 1698. The bounded Baptists had some scruples about 
 admitting so " notour and evil " a monster into their 
 midst, but his reputation as a swearer and a man of 
 passion affected them much more than his little pro- 
 pensity to perjury. They were obviously worthy descen- 
 dants of the fanatics who objected to bear baiting, not 
 because of the cruelty to the bear but on account of the 
 pleasure afforded the spectators. Above all, his parson's 
 habit offended their sectarian niceness. The liar protested 
 in a letter to a brother Baptist, dated October 13, i6g6, 
 " I never swore in my life — unless it were before a magistrate 
 (significant proviso) ; For the talking obscenely, I protest in 
 the presence of God, it is a lye. . . . With regard to the 
 Habit, though it may give great offence, yet it will neither 
 be safe for me, nor of any advantage to the Church of 
 Christ to leave it off." It was, perhaps, with a view to 
 conciliating the opinion of his new friends that Oates made 
 himself conspicuous in 1695 by striking a Mr. Green, the 
 archbishop's chaplain, in a spiritual court, though the exact 
 circumstances of this outbreak do not appear to be known. 
 The negotiations lasted in all about two years, and the 
 brethren might have proved inexorable had not the liar 
 been able to convince them of a satisfactory balance in his ■ 
 goldsmith's books, if not in those of a higher authority. 
 The passage in one of his letters referring to this important 
 subject is sufficiently autobiographical to deserve quotation. 
 " You know, Brother," he writes, " that God hath made 
 use of wicked men to be Rods to correct those who belong 
 to him. ... I bless his name for the Rod " — thus by the 
 way; then follows, "You may remember, dear Brother, 
 what an Objection you have made, in relation to my worldly 
 concerns. That my unsettled state in the world, and my 
 Debts were in some measure a hindrance to my walking 
 with you, lest by the means of them some advantage might 
 be taken against me, and the way of God might be Evil 
 spoken of ; it being Scandalous with some for a Man of my 
 Figure in the world to be in Debt. If that be still an 
 Objection, Oh praised be the name of the Lord for ever, that 
 
TITUS OATES. 151 
 
 Objection now will cease ; for God hath inclined the King's 
 Heart to me to Establish my Livelyhood in the World ; so 
 •that I think and hope through his grace and mercy to me, 
 and as a return of my humble, patient faithfull seeking his 
 face, the King is wrought upon and hath granted by his 
 Letters Patents under the Great Seal of England the sum 
 of ;^300 per annum for me and my poor wife, for the term 
 of 99 years if we both or either of us so long shall live, and 
 I have also a grant of ;f 500 to pay my debts. . . . Be 
 therefore no longer severe against me by keeping me upon 
 the Rack, but take compassion on my Soul," and he 
 subscribes himself, blethering piously to the end, " Thy 
 Ever Loving brother in the Faith and Order of the Gospel 
 of our Dearest Redeemer, Jesus Christ the Righteous, Titus 
 Gates." 
 
 A reference to the Treasury Papers corroborates the fiscal 
 ■details given above. At the beginning of 1697 the liar 
 memorialised the King for five hundred pounds to pay his 
 debts, affirming that, unless this little sum were promptly 
 paid over, he must perish, to the eternal disgrace of the 
 Government. He had no clothes worthy to appear before 
 the King, or he would have preferred his request (which 
 was curtly refused), in person. Later in this same year 
 the petitioner was still more urgent and explicit. He had 
 received forty pounds a month from 1689 to i6ga, in which 
 year his annuity was cruelly retrenched. In the meantime, 
 seduced by the King's promises, he had run deeply into 
 debt. He was now in profound distress, and had a "poor 
 aged mother " to maintain. 
 
 Titus seems to have multiplied the amount he had 
 received by two, and the aged mother was, too probably, 
 a fiction. Nevertheless, on the 15th of July, 1698, he was 
 called into the Treasury, and was told that his modest 
 requests had in substance been complied with, such was 
 the paternal solicitude of the Government. He was to 
 have five hundred pounds to pay his debts, and three 
 hundred pounds per annum, to date from Lady Day, 
 1698, during his own and his wife's life, out of the 
 Post Office revenues ; and finally, it was gently in- 
 
152 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 timated, he was "to expect noe more out of secret 
 service money." The " cruel retrenchment " alluded to 
 was due to the torrents of obscene scurrility with which 
 Gates sought to drench his old persecutor, James II. With 
 these queer productions of his fancy he regaled the coffee- 
 houses which he honoured with his custom, to the scandal 
 of the town and the intense annoyance of his butt's 
 daughter, Queen Mary. His materials were subsequently 
 utilised by Titus in two pamphlets, or " Pictures of King 
 James . . . drawn to life." But no one durst publish them 
 until after Mary's death. 
 
 Returning to the fulfilment of Oates's pious expectations, 
 it is needless to state that he had other motives in verting 
 from Conformist to Nonconformist (he had previously been 
 both, as well as Papist), besides the pleasure, refined though 
 it was, of rolling religious platitudes off his tongue, of writing 
 unctuous letters and subscribing himself " your affectionate 
 brother in our dearest Redeemer." He was in reality 
 pursuing into the preserve a rich old lady, who was at 
 loggerheads with most of her relatives, but above all with 
 her husband, and upon whose testamentary dispositions he 
 hoped to bring his benign influence to bear. On the old lady's 
 death, in 1699, he was sadly disconcerted to find that she 
 had left her money — a cool fifteen hundred pounds — else- 
 where. His exasperation led him to interrupt the funeral in 
 an unseemly fashion, and a few days after to demand back a 
 pulpit cloth and cushion, which he had previously presented 
 to the church. Four months later he sent them back to 
 the church with this apology — that it was his wife, not 
 he, who sent for them, and that he would have sent them 
 back again the next day had it not rained. He had an 
 ulterior object in renewing cordial relations with the 
 Baptists, by whom he was warmly welcomed back, not- 
 withstanding the leaky nature of his apologies. His ab- 
 stention was attributed not to pique but to qualms of 
 unworthiness ; once more he thumped the Wapping con- 
 venticle cushions, and his persuasive plenitude won all 
 hearts. His object was to revenge himself on the designing 
 executor, who had contrived to get named chief legatee. He 
 
TITUS OATES. iS3 
 
 meant to recoup himself by going halves with the widower, 
 who readily entered into the scheme, in whatever he 
 could recover from the executors. So well did he manage 
 to gull one and all of the parties, that before the end of the 
 year, by the influence of the church elders and the 
 unanimous consent of those interested, he got himself 
 appointed arbitrator between the executors and the widower. 
 Better refer the matter to a man who combined so much 
 holiness and experience, than go to law. With a circum- 
 spect pomposity and display of legal legerdemain, worthy 
 of the Lord Chancellor himself, Titus delivered his award — 
 to the effect that the objectionable executor was to pay 
 the husband fifteen hundi'ed pounds. But, notwithstand- 
 ing the plotter's modesty in limiting his share of the 
 plunder to seven hundred and fifty pounds, and despite 
 the histrionic talent which he had displayed, his in- 
 genuous award was arbitrarily and peremptorily set aside 
 by a decree in Chancery, dated November, 1702, in which 
 the said award was plainly described as " revengeful and 
 partial." Before this untoward termination to his career 
 as arbitrator Titus had been expelled from the fellowship 
 of the Baptists " as a disorderly person and a hypocrite." 
 
 The remainder of the liar's career can be very briefly 
 summed up. Ejected by the Anabaptists at Wapping for 
 his " scandalous behaviour," he went and lived privately 
 in Axe Yard, Westminster, the place where Pepys had lived 
 with his wife and servant Jane, and where he commenced 
 writing his evergreen diary. Old age was powerless to 
 confer the gifts of sobriety or decency upon him. So 
 strongly addicted was the liar to the taste biblically ascribed 
 to the dog, that he seems to have found his chief pleasure 
 in haunting the purlieus of Westminster Hall, listening to 
 the pleadings, occasionally brawling, and, doubtless, doing 
 his best to still further corrupt the discreditable tribe of 
 mercenary witnesses, whose infamy was so long a rank offence 
 in England. The monotony of this kind of existence was 
 broken by an assault which he committed in the summer 
 of 1702 upon the eccentric Mrs. Eleanor James. Mrs. 
 James was a person who presumed upon her notoriety 
 
154 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 to interview no less than five successive sovereigns upon 
 their prospects of eternal welfare. Meeting the informer 
 in the Court of Requests one morning, she felt it to be her 
 duty to put to him a few modest questions, such as why, 
 being an Anabaptist, he presumed to wear the robes of the 
 Church, of which she was at all times an enthusiastic and 
 intolerant champion. Whereupon the liar grew on a sudden 
 so enraged that, in a violent and riotous manner, he struck 
 her on the head with a cane. As of old, we may be sure 
 he felt the full weight of the preacher's injunction, " What- 
 ever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." At 
 Quarter Sessions, on July 2, 1703, Oates's defence was that 
 the lady had first plucked him by the sleeve, but this was held 
 to be merely by way of admonition. He got off finally with 
 a severe reprimand and a fine of six marks. Eleanor had 
 petitioned for his cane to be burnt, writing to the House 
 of Lords on the subject. "Was it a crime?" she plaintively 
 asks, " for me, who have taken kings, princes, and governors 
 by the hands, to take him by the sleeve. Devil rather than 
 Doctor that he is ? " 
 
 It must have been between this date and 1705 that Tom 
 Brown — the Tom Hood of his period — having seen the famous 
 brass monument in Westminster, went in the next place by 
 a natural sequence (had not Dryden compared the liar to a 
 brazen serpent ?) " to see Dr. Oats." He found him in 
 one of the coffee-houses overlooking the courts — " a most 
 accomplished person in his way, that's certain." 
 
 In Axe Yard, Oates's career of infamy came to a final close 
 on Thursday, July 12, 1705. 
 
 So lived and died Titus Oates, a human being, who, it 
 is believed, has hitherto successfully repelled the advances 
 of the most intrepid of biographers. To have accomplished 
 such a task, hardly and imperfectly indeed, is perhaps not 
 a matter for unmixed self-satisfaction. But the endeavour 
 at least confers upon Oates's biographer the opportunity of 
 placing upon record his unhesitating conviction that Titus 
 has not been in the least degree maligned, and that he is, in 
 all probability, rhythmically speaking, " the bloodiest villain 
 since the world began." 
 
;;^^<r7''rTr-TT-'~rT?^=^T"^;sr^x v ■' ~ 
 
 
 #5 ^ S^. 
 
 THE BEAUTIFULL SLMONE 
 
SIMON FRASER, 
 
 LORD LOVAT. 
 
 (1667-1747-) 
 
 "God be thanked for these rebels: they offend none but the 
 
 virtuous." 
 
 {Henry IV., Pt. I., Act III., sc. iii.) 
 
 I. 
 
 SIMON FRASER was of an ancient Norman family to 
 whom the heralds had given, for coat-of-arms, a field 
 azure semi de /raises. The seat of Lord Lovat, head of the 
 Eraser clan, was Castle Downie, otherwise called Beaufort. 
 Simon's father, Thomas, called " of Beaufort," did not, how- 
 ever, reside there, being only the fourth son of Hugh, ninth 
 Lord Lovat. He possessed a small house at Tannich in 
 Ross-shire, and there Simon was born some time in the year 
 1667. His mother was Sybilla, daughter of Macleod of 
 Macleod. 
 
 Young Simon was educated at King's College, Aberdeen, 
 where he took the M.A. degree, and acquired the happy 
 knack of apt quotation from Virgil, Horace, and Ovid. His 
 degree was taken in 1683, and soon after, being about " to 
 enter upon the science of civil law," he preferred to accept a 
 commission offered him in the regiment of Lord Murray, son 
 of the Marquis of Athole. Thereby the world perhaps lost a 
 great lawyer. In after life Simon boasted that this otherwise 
 contemptible offer was only rendered tolerable to him by an 
 assurance on the part of the Murrays that the regiment was 
 intended to betray its allegiance to William on the first con- 
 
156 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 venient opportunity. It is not credible that an insignificant 
 cadet with hardly a hope of succession, in haste to make his 
 way and with no other means of doing it than the " science 
 of civil law," should thus have despised the patronage of the 
 Murrays. 
 
 But promise, even of insignificance, is sometimes strangely 
 falsified. Death had already begun to clear Simon's path. 
 In 1672 the tenth Lord Lovat had died prematurely, leaving 
 one son only. Then, in 1692, came the death of Simon's 
 elder brother, Alexander. From that time the lordship of 
 Lovat was just within his reach. Hugh, eleventh lord, had 
 married a Murray, and by her he had one daughter named 
 Amelia, like her mother. In 1692 he was still a young man; 
 but if he died young and had no more children, then the 
 succession to the estates and chieftaincy would fall either to 
 the young Amelia or to Simon's father. Just before the 
 marriage of Lord Hugh the inheritance of Lovat had, by 
 a formal deed, been settled on the eldest daughter that 
 might be, in default of male children. But the question was 
 serious — would this deed hold good ? The chieftaincy of 
 a Highland clan was assuredly not a thing to be handed 
 over to a little girl in virtue of scribbled paper. It had 
 never been held in the Highlands that such chieftaincy 
 was strictly hereditary, any more than mediaeval kingship. 
 Marriage settlements, from the clansman's point of view, had 
 little to do with the matter. The will of the late chief might 
 go for something, but, in the last resort, it was for the clan 
 itself to decide which of a chief's near relatives was his 
 fitting successor. And the clan was likely to object to the 
 chieftaincy of a girl, and still more to that of a girl child 
 who would be rather more of a Murray than a Fraser. 
 Edinburgh law recognised no rights of election in the 
 clansmen ; but need that matter ? If only Lord Hugh 
 would die speedily, and, before dying, would nominate 
 Simon's father as his heir, there might be a good chance, 
 despite all the Murrays in Perthshire and all the lawyers 
 in Edinburgh. 
 
 And this is precisely what happened. Simon, as a poor 
 and patronised cousin, had abundant opportunities of making 
 
LORD LOVAT. I57 
 
 himself useful and agreeable to Lord Hugh. Lord Hugh, on 
 
 his side, as Simon himself assures us, was of " contracted 
 
 understanding." So it came about that the young lord fell 
 
 greatly under the influence of the strong mind of his cousin 
 
 and constant companion. In the year 1696 Simon at length 
 
 emerges from his obscurity. In that year Lord Hugh and 
 
 he went to London together, and Lord Hugh seems to 
 
 have lost, in the dissipations of the town, what little head 
 
 he possessed, and to have plunged into excesses which had 
 
 serious effects upon his constitution. He certainly became 
 
 very ill, and finally died, on his homeward journey, at Perth, 
 
 and in the. arms of his loving cousin. This event, with which 
 
 Simon's career fairly commences, took place on September 
 
 4, 1696. It is perhaps noteworthy that none of Simon's 
 
 most virulent biographers have done him the honour of 
 
 suggesting that Lord Hugh died from other than "natural 
 
 causes." Neither do we make any such suggestion : but the 
 
 event was certainly opportune. Now was seen the fruit of 
 
 the friendly intercourse of the cousins. A will of the late 
 
 lord, dated March 26th of that year, was promptly produced. 
 
 It was drawn in faultless form, and set forth that whereas 
 
 Lord Hugh's marriage settlement had been obtained by 
 
 pressure amounting to fraud, and was contrary to the 
 
 ancient custom of his family, he now settled the whole 
 
 inheritance on Thomas of Beaufort, with a considerable sum 
 
 in ready money as a legacy to Simon. 
 
 The first great crisis in Simon's life had now arrived. He 
 had struck a bold stroke, for failure now might mean final 
 and hopeless failure. If he had only had to contest the 
 claims of the little girl, Amelia Fraser, he would have been 
 safe enough ; but behind the child of nine or ten years old 
 were the Murrays, and the Murrays were more than powerful 
 in the Highlands. 
 
 The eldest son of the Marquis of Athole, the newly- 
 created Earl of Tullibardine, was now Lord High Com- 
 missioner of Scotland, and at the head of that exceedingly 
 arbitrary body, the Scottish Privy Council. It was only 
 too likely that Simon's claim would bring him into conflict, 
 not merely with Edinburgh law, but with the actual Govern. 
 
158 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 ment and Crown of Scotland. The struggle that now opens 
 is represented by Simon, in the memoirs he wrote long after, 
 as the result of an impudent and tyrannical attempt on the 
 part of the Murrays to extend their authority over the Clan 
 Fraser and annex the estates of Lovat. At the remembrance 
 his virtuous indignation knows no bounds. He tells us how,, 
 for a month before his death, which occurred in 1703, the 
 Marquis of Athole " was in the most deplorable condition, 
 blaspheming God and crying that he was already in hell 
 and surrounded with devils"; and that he died "in this 
 infernal kind of madness." He adds, with edifying piety, 
 that this horrid death was " an exemplary judgment of God, 
 which ought to make those tremble who oppress the just 
 and destroy the innocent ; for sooner or later their punish- 
 ment is certain, and if they are spared in this world it is only 
 to aggravate their torments in the world to come." But, 
 putting aside Simon's characteristic piety, there seems to be 
 a good deal of truth in his representation of the affair. That 
 the Murrays designed to marry the little heiress to a member 
 or a close connection of the family, is probable ; that Tulli- 
 bardine used his political position as a means to attain 
 private ends is certain. If Simon was greedy and un- 
 scrupulous, so also were his enemies. Moreover, since 
 from the outset the great majority of the Clan Fraser 
 were in favour of Simon and his father, Simon had some 
 real claim, according to Highland law, to consider himself 
 ill-used. 
 
 It was, indeed, a goodly inheritance, well worth the 
 fighting for, that Simon fought to win. The country of the 
 Frasers lay round Loch Ness, north and south, broken at 
 the north-eastern extremity of the lake by the township of 
 Inverness. The Fraser district south of the lake is that 
 known as Stratheric, the wildest part of the domain, high 
 and sterile, full of morasses and heather and mountain mist. 
 Here it was that Simon was to organise his raids and find 
 sure refuge. To the north of the lake lay the larger district 
 of the Aird, which stretches from near Inverness along the 
 flat and fertile shores of Loch Beauly, and then up the river, 
 and through the wild regions westwards till its extremities 
 
LORD LO VAT. IS9 
 
 nearly reach the coast. Within these districts lay Beaufort, 
 or Castle Downie, and the estates of Lovat proper; but it was 
 for far more than the estates that Simon had made his bid. 
 For all the people of this country were Frasers, loyal and 
 uncomplaining subjects of any rightful chief, whose authority 
 they owned or no man's. It was a little kingdom that Simon 
 had set himself to win. The struggle opened promptly with 
 the death of Lord Hugh. Thomas of Beaufort assumed the 
 title of Lord Lovat, while, on the other side, the child, 
 Amelia Fraser, was proclaimed Baroness of Lovat. Then 
 follows nearly a year of intrigue and chicanery, accompanied 
 by confused turmoil in the Fraser country. During this 
 period Simon, of course, is active : now in Edinburgh 
 bearding, according to his own account, the " knave and 
 coward " Lord Tullibardine, to his face ; now in Stratheric, 
 taking strong measures to quell dissension in the clan. The 
 clan was somewhat dubious and divided ; but from the first 
 Simon and his father had completely the upper hand in the 
 Fraser country, though the Dowager Lady Lovat, the 
 Murray, remained in possession of Castle Downie, the family 
 headquarters. The inconvenience of having a child and 
 a girl for chief, jealousy of the Murray influence, and the 
 energy of Simon, carried the day with the clansmen. Dis- 
 sentients were roughly handled. Simon is said to have 
 attempted to get the little heiress into his clutches, but the 
 attempt failed, and the child was carried to safe keeping at 
 Dunkeld, a stronghold of the Murrays in Perthshire. 
 
 For nearly a year the Murrays seem to have been losing 
 ground, and the supremacy of Simon and his father in the 
 Fraser country getting more and more fully established. This 
 was, partially at least, due to the comparative inaction of the 
 Murrays. Legal proceedings, of an interminable character, at 
 Edinburgh did not in any way affect the situation ; and the 
 Murrays seem to have been uncertain what course to take. 
 To force the child, Amelia, on the recalcitrant clan would, 
 clearly, be a very difficult piece of work. 
 
 But, in the course of the year 1697, the Murrays at length 
 decided on a plausible combination. There existed in the 
 Lowlands of Aberdeenshire a branch of the Fraser clan, long 
 
i6o TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 ago separated from the main body, at the head of which was 
 Lord Saltoun, a rich man and indubitably a Fraser. To 
 this gentleman the Murrays appealed, first sending to the 
 refractory clansmen to say that, since they persisted in 
 requiring a Fraser for chief, one should be forthcoming. An 
 arrangement of, apparently, a very indefinite kind was come 
 to with Lord Saltoun, who seems to have been tempted to 
 interfere by the prospect of a marriage between his son and 
 the heiress. Such a marriage, or the prospect of it, might 
 conceivably dispose of the objections of the clan to Amelia 
 Fraser. 
 
 The news that Lord Saltoun was on his way from 
 Edinburgh created some ferment in the wilds of the Fraser 
 country, but the bulk of the clansmen held by Simon. 
 Lord Saltoun was a stranger, a Lowlander, and he came to 
 Castle Downie as a tool of the Murrays. He had, as Simon 
 says, " little knowledge of the manners of those regions " ; 
 otherwise it is probable that he would have stayed at home. 
 Soon after his arrival in the Fraser country he received a 
 letter, signed by Thomas of Beaufort, Lord Lovat, and by . 
 twenty of the chief men of the clan, warning him that he 
 had no right to interfere and that consequences might be 
 serious if he persisted. Simon himself did not sign this 
 letter, but he probably wrote it. 
 
 Of this warning Lord Saltoun took no notice, and it is 
 evident that Simon regarded the position as dangerous. 
 The dissensions in the clan must now, it would seem, 
 have been serious, and Simon judged it necessary to nip in 
 the bud the development of the Saltoun marriage project, 
 and to convince his lordship that he had better go home 
 again. The measures he took were prompt and strong. 
 Setting out from Stratheric on the 6th of October with a 
 band of trusty men— " pretty fellows" all, no doubt— he 
 intercepted Lord Saltoun and his party near the wood of 
 Bunchrew, between Inverness and Castle Downie, and made 
 all prisoners. Along with Lord Saltoun was thus captured 
 Lord Mungo Murray, a brother of TuUibardine. The 
 prisoners were promptly shut up in the tower of Finellan, 
 near at hand, and then Lord Saltoun was further dealt 
 
LORD LOVAT. i6i 
 
 with. " A gallows was erected before the windows of my 
 Lord Saltoun's room," says Major Fraser'of the Manuscript, 
 whose narrative is among the best authorities for Simon's 
 life, " and a gentleman sent in to him with a message to 
 prepare himself for another world, that he had but two days 
 to live, and those gentlemen of the name of Fraser who gave 
 him the call to their country was to cast the dyce to know 
 whose fate it was to hang with him." This formidable 
 announcement reduced the unlucky nobleman to beg his life, 
 and finally sign a declaration that he would have no more to 
 do with the matter — a promise which he was careful faithfully 
 to keep after his subsequent liberation and safe return home; 
 let us hope with gratitude. 
 
 The immediate object was gained, and if Simon had only 
 stopped here all might have been well. His violence had 
 indeed brought him within the purview of the criminal law, 
 and there was no saying what action the Privy Council, 
 under the influence of Lord TuUibardine, might take. 
 Simon seems to have believed that he was hopelessly 
 compromised, and the idea, perhaps, made him reckless. 
 " There happened," he wrote, immediately after the 
 " accident " referred to, to the governor of Fort William, 
 " an unlucky accident that is like, if God and good friends 
 do not prevent it, utterly to extirpate not only my father's 
 family, but the whole name of Fraser." The hot blood was 
 up, and Simon did not hesitate. Immediately after the 
 capture of Lord Saltoun he sent the " fiery cross " — the burnt 
 cross of wood, dipped in blood, that summoned to arms the 
 vassals of a Highland chief — through Stratheric. 
 
 " Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell, 
 And solitary heath the signal knew." 
 
 And there gathered at it fully five hundred armed men, or 
 more. 
 
 The next step was to seize Castle Downie itself and 
 make prisoners of all therein, including the Dowager Lady 
 Lovat. For her daughter, the child heiress, she was safe in 
 Perthshire. The seizure of Castle Downie was but the 
 
 12 
 
i62 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 natural sequel to the seizure of Lord Saltoun; what followed 
 cannot be so regarded. Deliberately, and almost in cold 
 blood, Simon proceeded to outrage the helpless and hapless 
 lady, after passing her through the forms of a marriage by 
 force. One Mr. Robert Monro, of Abertarf, " a poor sordid 
 fellow, a minister," officiated, but his part in the matter 
 appears to have been very subordinate. The service was 
 run through in the lady's bedroom, in the presence not only 
 of Simon, but of several of his ruffians. In the next room 
 the bagpipes were blown up lustily— whether to drown the 
 lady's hysterical cries or in ironic merriment is not clear. 
 After the " ceremony " the lady's stays were cut with a dirk, 
 and the rest must be left to imagination. Amelia Rioch, a 
 young girl and servant to the lady, swore at the subsequent 
 trial, " that next morning she went into the lady's chamber 
 and ... did see 'all her face swollen and she spoke nothing, 
 but gave her a broad look." And further, "the deponent 
 thought that my lady was not sensible for a day or two 
 thereafter, for she did not know Lord Mungo, her brother, 
 the next morning when he came to see her." Also that she 
 said, piteously, to the girl, " Call me not madam, but the 
 most miserable wretch alive." In such piteous and pathetic 
 condition, shortly after the outrage, the lady was conveyed^ 
 by Simon's orders, to the island of Aigas in the torrents of 
 the Beauly. 
 
 That the facts are as thus stated admits of no reasonable 
 doubt. In his memoirs, of course, Simon gives the whole 
 story a haughty denial. He states that he never went to 
 Castle Downie on this occasion at all, and that as for the 
 " chimerical monster of a rape," created by Lord Athole and 
 his son, the imposture was manifest. What interest had he 
 to do such a thing ? The widow, he asserts, was " old 
 enough to be his mother, dwarfish in her person and deformed 
 in her shape," and, besides, a mere dependent on his bounty.^ 
 Unfortunately these statements will not bear criticism, and 
 are totally inconsistent with the defence actually set up by 
 Simon at the time of the occurrence. The lady, to begia 
 with, was apparently not more than thirty-four or thirty-five 
 years of age — only four or five years older than Simori himself. 
 
LORD LOVAT. 163 
 
 It is certain, moreover, that at the actual time Simon, far from 
 denying the allegations altogether, tried, on the contrary, to 
 make out that the marriage was a genuine one, and that the 
 lady, whom in letters he speaks of as " my dear wife," was 
 highly enamoured of her suddenly acquired husband. There 
 is good reason to believe that the lady did, at Aigas, demand 
 and obtain that a proper marriage ceremony should be gone 
 through. This is conceivable enough, without supposing 
 that she had grown fond of Simon in the interval. 
 
 To explain Simon's exact motives in this affair is the 
 reverse of easy. He can hardly have hoped that the 
 Murrays would recognise the " marriage." Had they done 
 so, indeed, such recognition would have formed a basis for 
 compromise to the advantage of Simon, and it is quite 
 possible that an audacious hope of this did spring up in 
 Simon's mind. On the other hand the risk was great and 
 the hope cannot have been strong. How was it that Simon's 
 calculating faculty did not on this occasion bid him pause ? 
 " A man of my stamp," the first Napoleon is said to have 
 remarked, " does not commit crimes." But Simon was not 
 so cold-blooded. For him gratuitous crime — crime, that is, 
 which is its own reward — had its natural attractions. We 
 must remember, too, that he already hated the Murrays with 
 a purity of hatred rarely developed, and that the lady was 
 the daughter of the chief of his foes and the sister of the 
 still loathlier Tullibardine. Finally, perhaps, he calculated 
 that so long as the clan stood by him no decision of law 
 courts in Edinburgh could make his position worse than it 
 was already. 
 
 But if this was his idea he appears to have been mistaken. 
 An atrocious outrage had been committed against the honour 
 of one of the greatest of Scottish families. At Edinburgh the 
 Lord High Commissioner became active. Citations were 
 issued against Simon and his father and other persons 
 concerned to appear for trial at Edinburgh, Their non- 
 appearance was a matter of course ; the difficulty was to 
 serve the summonses. One gallant servitor of the Edinburgh 
 courts contented himself with blowing a trumpet and reading 
 the summons in the market-place of Elgin ; and this appears 
 
i64 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 to have been lawful service under an act of the Scottish 
 Parliament. Another, more enterprising, actually penetrated 
 to the shore of the Beauly, opposite Aigas itself, and there 
 left, by night, his piece of official paper stuck in the fork of a 
 cleft stick, and thereupon made the best of his way back 
 again. On his side, Simon, finding that his marriage could 
 not be got recognised, released the lady, who returned to her 
 relatives. And the war, as it was now becoming, went on. 
 In November, 1697, the Privy Council issued " Letters of 
 Intercommuning " against Simon and his father, command- 
 ing every one to boycott and otherwise damage the offenders, 
 and offering 2,000 marks to any one who should " bring in " 
 either of them, dead or alive. 
 
 This sort of excommunication was frequently issued at 
 that time against refractory Highlanders. In this case it 
 had no more effect on the Clan Fraser than the piece of 
 paper left sticking by the Beauly. More serious measures 
 were to come. In February, 1698, the Government, having 
 decided that the " Beauforts " were "rebels," followed up 
 its letters of intercommuning with " letters of fire and 
 sword." Under these, military officers were commissioned 
 to seize Thomas and Simon Fraser, and empowered to 
 summon the Sheriffs of Perth, Moray, and Inverness, to call 
 out their men to assist in doing so. In the following June 
 proceedings were taken in the Court of Justiciary against 
 Simon and his father " for high treason in forming unlawful 
 associations, collecting an armed force, occupying and forti- 
 fying houses and garrisons, imprisoning and ravishing per- 
 sons of distinguished rank, and continuing in arms after 
 being charged by a herald to lay them down." On this 
 somewhat preposterous indictment they were condemned in 
 September, sentence of death and forfeiture being pronounced 
 against both of them. Of course the trial was conducted in 
 the absence of the accused, and, of course, it was grossly 
 unfair. Much ink and paper had been consumed in dis- 
 cussing the question whether and in what cases the trial of 
 persons for treason in their absence was lawful by Scotch 
 law. Such a mode of trial must certainly have been con- 
 venient in that age for two good reasons. In the first place 
 
LORD LOVAT. 165 
 
 it was difficult to secure the presence of the accused ; and, 
 secondly, if you did happen to lay hands on him after the 
 trial you could hang him on the spot before he had a chance 
 of escape or rescue. 
 
 It was now not merely the Murrays but the very Crown of 
 Scotland itself with which Simon had to fight as best he 
 could. Troops were sent out against the "rebels," and 
 Stratheric itself was invaded. Simon sent his father, who 
 was now over sixty, and seems all through to have followed 
 the lead of his son, to the keeping of the Macleods of Skye. 
 His late wife, Simon's mother, had been a Macleod ; and, in 
 the safeguard of this friendly clan, Thomas of Beaufort and 
 Lovat died in 1699. Simon himself, for some two years, 
 lived the life of a rebel outlaw in the wilds of the Fraser 
 country, indefatigably maintaining an unequal struggle. 
 The troops found it hard work in Fraser country, what 
 with the mountains and bogs, to say nothing of Simon's 
 bands of pretty fellows. For Simon, though he can hardly 
 have found it easy to live, was by no means a mere fugitive. 
 The great majority of the Frasers indubitably regarded him 
 as their rightful laird ; and Simon never lacked help or good 
 company, even though the clansmen did not turn out for 
 him en masse. In the course of 1699 Simon seems actually 
 to have made prisoners a considerable body of troops, along 
 with Lord James and Lord Mungo Murray, sons of Athole. 
 In his memoirs he gives a detailed account of this brilliant 
 action, which, however, is probably chiefly imaginary. He 
 tells us, further, that he was strongly inclined to massacre 
 the whole of his prisoners, and was only prevented from so 
 doing by the entreaties of the chief men that were with him. 
 Being thus baulked, instead of killing them he made them 
 devote themselves "to the devil and all the torments of 
 hell," if ever they came there again ! 
 
 But what chance had Simon in the long run if the Govern- 
 ment persisted ? As time went on his position of necessity 
 grew weaker. He was reduced, in Major Fraser's phrase 
 to " lurking up and down the country, the troops always in 
 search of him." It was a hard life and a hopeless prospect. 
 It could not be expected that the clan would remain, year 
 
i66 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 after year, even partially faithful. Sooner or later he would 
 find himself deserted and at the end of his resources. Ex- 
 traneous aid must be obtained somehow. 
 
 In the year 1700 Simon appealed for assistance to Archi- 
 bald Campbell, then Earl, afterwards first Duke, of Argyll. 
 This great nobleman had been a zealous promoter of the 
 revolution of 1688, and was, consequently, high in favour at 
 the Court of King William. He could, certainly, be useful 
 if he would, and that he would was probable. He had 
 watched the affair of the Lovat inheritance from the begin- 
 ning, with keen jealousy of his rivals, the Murrays. It was 
 on the score of the balance of power in Scotland that Simon 
 made his successful appeal to this potentate. In the autumn 
 of the year 1700 Argyll made intercession with King William, 
 and, apparently, secured for Simon his promise of an inter- 
 view. Thereupon Simon left his mountains and hastened 
 with due secrecy to London. On his arrival he found that 
 the King was in the Netherlands. There was no time to be 
 lost, but he was safe enough for the moment, and he kept 
 his head admirably cool. After all the interview with King 
 William might produce nothing ; in that case the best thing 
 that was to be done was to fall back on King James of St. 
 Germains. As he had to go to the Continent in any case it 
 would be as well, or better, to pay his respects at St. Ger- 
 mains before troubling King William. So Simon went from 
 London to St. Germains. There was some risk attached to 
 such a visit, of course — but how should King William hear 
 of it? What passed at the little Stuart Court is not 
 recorded with certainty ; but Simon merely went to pave 
 the way for a not improbable visit in the future. 
 
 From St. Germains he went on to see King William at Loo. 
 The visit was only a partial success. Simon obtained a 
 pardon, but a pardon not sufficient for his purposes. Accord- 
 ing to his own account, indeed, the King gave orders that 
 there should be drawn up for his benefit "an ample and 
 complete pardon for every imaginable crime," but that 
 through the malice and treachery of his enemies, the pardon 
 drawn in Holland was suppressed and another substituted. 
 This story appears to be merely one of Simon's modifica- 
 
LORD LOVAT. 167 
 
 tions of the truth. Anyhow, the actual pardon concerned 
 only the alleged treasons. Simon's claim to the Lovat 
 inheritance, now sorely prejudiced, was, of course, left 
 entirely untouched, while he still remained liable to prose- 
 cution for his outrage on the Dowager. 
 
 Simon, nevertheless, having made tolerably quick work of 
 it, was back in Scotland early in 1701 and appeared in Edin- 
 burgh, under Argyll's protection, to confront his accusers, 
 bringing with him a large number of witnesses. It appears 
 that it was he himself who took action to bring the whole 
 matter before a law court, either, as he asserts, to prove his 
 entire innocence, or, as Major Fraser declares, to prove the 
 genuineness of his marriage with the Dowager. In any 
 case his action was of a merely forestalling character ; nor 
 did he abide the issue. He declares that the case was pre- 
 determined against him ; that all his judges were creatures 
 of TuUibardine, and that Argyll himself said that were he 
 " as innocent as Jesus Christ " these rascally judges would 
 still condemn him. He thought it wiser, therefore, hastily 
 to quit the field and return to Stratheric. On the 17th of 
 February following he was cited before the court and outlawed 
 for not appearing. Meanwhile he had gone back to his old 
 way of life, and was preparing for. a renewal of the struggle 
 that had closed, for a moment, in the autumn of 1700. New 
 letters of intercommuning were issued against him. 
 
 Simon's position was now practically the same as it had 
 been before Argyll's intervention. Indeed, if anything, it 
 was worse than ever, for the much-enduring clan was grow- 
 ing very impatient. Simon was reduced to bribing many of 
 the principal clansmen with bonds for the future payment 
 of considerable sums on condition that they stood by him. 
 These bonds he afterwards, in the days of prosperity, refused 
 to pay. 
 
 But the days of prosperity were still far off. For another 
 year Simon maintained himself in Stratheric ; then the death 
 of William III. made it useless for him to remain there 
 longer. For, under the new Government, the Murrays were 
 more powerful than ever, while, on the other hand, Argyll's 
 influence waned or disappeared. Simon had no choice but 
 
i68 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 to give up the game altogether and make his peace, if that 
 were possible, or leave Scotland and turn Jacobite for a time. 
 
 Jacobitism was, truly, a blessed refuge for the destitute in 
 those days ; and its value, in this respect, has not perhaps 
 been fully appreciated. If a man had a good position and 
 lost it, by fault or misfortune, let him go to St. Germains. 
 There one could, with help of a little dexterity, at worst live 
 passably on the bounty of the French King. And if ever a 
 second blessed Restoration should take place — a by no means 
 improbable event, as all men knew — would not one be a made 
 man again ? Many an unfortunate ambition, for which 
 otherwise there had been no hope any more, found hope 
 here. This way was always open and might lead to any- 
 thing. As a Jacobite every rogue had a chance. And what 
 man of spirit gives up while there is hope anywhere ? 
 
 Certainly not Simon. Not for a moment, and never 
 through the long years of misfortune that followed, did he 
 lose heart or waver from his purpose of becoming in reality 
 the Lord Lovat, and chief of the Clan Fraser. He did not 
 abandon the field ; he merely changed his base of operations. 
 Stratheric and Argyll had become useless ; henceforth, to 
 conquer his inheritance, he must operate from St. Germains. 
 For him there was no alternative. It would be ludicrous to 
 impute to Simon any suspicion of conviction on behalf of the 
 exiled family. Simon's most extraordinary mental charac- 
 teristic appears to have been an entire absence of convictions 
 except in personal relations. There, on the contrary, his 
 beliefs were strong and lasting ; and strongest of all was his- 
 conviction that the chieftaincy of the Clan Fraser was the 
 most desirable of all earthly possessions. It is not difificult 
 to understand the indomitable devotion with which he clung 
 to this idea of the chieftaincy. Born and bred in the High- 
 lands, he remained always, at heart, in spite of his tags of 
 Horace and his later acquired French polish, a semi-bar- 
 barian Highlander. 
 
 In his new line of life Simon was to have need of new 
 weapons. So far he had displayed mere energy, dash, and 
 boldness, a dominating power, which had made him some- 
 thing of a hero in Stratheric, and a resolution a thought too 
 
LORD LOVAT. 169 
 
 sudden. Now his enormous talent for mendacity was to 
 come into full play. 
 
 It was in the summer of 1702 that Simon left Scotland 
 for St. Germains, with a considerable sum of money which 
 he had levied on the estates at parting. He left behind him 
 his younger brother, John, and the bonds with the principal 
 clansmen to safeguard his interests, as far as possible, John 
 proving a not unworthy lieutenant. Simon reached Paris in 
 August or September. Before starting he asserts that he 
 "visited the chiefs of the clans and a great number of the 
 lords of the Lowlands, with William Earl Marishal and the 
 Earl of Errol ... at their head," and finally " engaged them 
 to grant him a general commission on their part, and on the 
 part of all the loyal Scots whom they represented," to the 
 King of St. Germains. This was the falsehood upon which 
 he proposed to set up in business at the Court of exile. 
 
 Simon, then, came to St. Germains in the character of an 
 accredited agent of the chief lords of Scotland, provided with 
 plans for the speedy restoration of his Sacred Majesty, King 
 James III. His credentials were the weak point, and 
 perhaps a hint of his reputation and real position in Scotland 
 had reached the little Court. He was regarded from the 
 first with some suspicion, and, in particular. Lord Middleton, 
 " Secretary of State," thought proper to make difficulties ; 
 for which he is duly rewarded in Simon's memoirs by every 
 kind of abuse and calumny. It is not necessary to discuss 
 Middleton's motives ; but there is reasonable suspicion that 
 his opposition was not altogether disinterested. This ludi- 
 crous-pathetic little Court of St. Germains was as full of puny 
 jealousies and intrigues as the Court of the Grand Monarque 
 himself. Simon appears to have allied himself from the first 
 with the Duke of Perth, Lord Middleton's chief rival. 
 
 His energy and ingenuity silenced opposition for a time 
 and gained him a partial success. He gained over Mary of 
 Modena, the " Regent," more or less completely to his views ; 
 and, apparently, also the French ministers, Torcy and Cal- 
 lieres. In order the more easily to push his schemes at the 
 two Courts, he became a convert to Roman Catholicism — a 
 proceeding which was promptly capped by Lord Middleton, 
 
170 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 in spite of the latter's previous apophthegm, to the effect that 
 new light in the human edifice was generally let in through 
 a hole in the roofing. His conversion procured him the 
 overwhelming honour of a special audience of the great King 
 himself. 
 
 It was not merely by force of audacity and plausibility 
 that Simon obtained his small victory. The project pro- 
 pounded by him was indubitably a good one. The proposal 
 was that King Louis should land five thousand French 
 soldiers at Dundee, and five hundred more near Fort 
 William, which, says Simon, " served as a curb upon the 
 Highlanders." Then the Scottish Jacobites would raise full 
 ten thousand men in a short time. Simon urged strongly 
 that the base of all Jacobite operations must be in the High- 
 lands, and that Lord Middleton would get no good of his 
 friends in England. In partially convincing the Court of St. 
 Germains and the French ministers that their chief hope lay 
 in the Highlands, Simon may be said to have done good 
 service for the Jacobite cause. If he could only have com- 
 municated a portion of his own spirit to the futile Court and 
 its puny monarch, the Pretender would finally have become 
 a Protestant, and the second Restoration, in all probability, 
 an accomplished fact. 
 
 As a result of his negotiations, Simon, in May, 1703, was 
 commissioned to return to the Highlands and gather further 
 and precise information as to the intentions and proposals of 
 the heads of clans. With him was sent one Captain John 
 Murray, by birth a Scotsman, but now a naturalised 
 Frenchman, bearing arms in the French King's service. 
 But, apparently even before they started on their dangerous 
 mission, the suspicious and hostile Lord Middleton, on his 
 own behalf, but presumably with the Queen's knowledge, 
 sent a certain James Murray as a spy on Simon's motions. 
 
 The precaution was far from being a mere formality. As 
 Simon knew, there was no immediate chance of a Jacobite 
 rising. At St. Germains he had posed as the trusted emis- 
 sary of the chief Jacobite lords of Scotland, who would, on 
 his return, quicken his numerous and confiding allies to a 
 sense of the desirability of immediate action. How on earth 
 
LORD LOVAT. 171 
 
 was he to substantiate his statements upon his return to 
 Scotland ? Almost every statement he had made at St. 
 Germains was false, as Middleton, the best informed of 
 James's advisers, probably knew. Far from being the con- 
 fidential ally of the chief Jacobite lords, he was by most of 
 them either ignored or viewed with the utmost suspicion. 
 He could hardly expect, master of duplicity as he was, to con- 
 tinue to hoodwink the zealous and observant Jacobite agents 
 by whom he was shadowed. The situation was in reality 
 horribly awkward. But Simon had a card up his sleeve. 
 If the worst came to the worst, would it not be possible to 
 buy possession of the Lovat inheritance, or, at least, some 
 other good thing, by selling his new Jacobite friends ? 
 
 He had first to get to Scotland, and this was no easy 
 matter ; but as we have only his own account of his adven- 
 tures by the way, it will be prudent, in the interests of 
 veracity, to pass them over. He sailed from Calais, it 
 appears, and passed through England, of course in disguise. 
 Soon after reaching the country he had an interview with 
 his old ally, Argyll. Argyll was out of favour, and in no 
 mood to betray him to his enemies, the Murrays, while on 
 the other hand he could be useful in facilitating Simon's tour 
 of discovery or in opening up communications with the 
 Government ; later on Simon was in no great hurry to play 
 the betrayer; he would probably have remained, for the 
 time, a mere Jacobite agent if things had gone well with 
 him in that capacity. It is certain that he made actual use 
 of his Jacobite commission, and confabulated with various 
 Highland chieftains as to a rising — with Lord Drummond, 
 Cameron of Lochiel, the Laird of Macgregor, Stuart of 
 Appin, and others. Nothing, however, was definitely 
 arranged, or could be, though protestations of zeal in the 
 cause of his absent Majesty seem to have been plentiful 
 enough. Simon doubtless came quickly to the conclusion 
 that there was no present chance 'of conquering his inherit- 
 ance by way of a Jacobite rising. This being so he was bound 
 to endeavour to sell his Jacobite friends for what they were 
 worth. He therefore proceeded to procure from the accomo- 
 dating Argyll an introduction to the Huke of Queensberry, 
 
172 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 High Commissioner in Scotland. With this representative of 
 Queen Anne, Simon had an interview in Edinburgh in Sep- 
 tember, 1703. Not content with betraying mere Jacobites, 
 Simon, with the Lovat inheritance constantly in view, took 
 the opportunity to strike a blow at the chief of his enemies. 
 Lord Athole. Among other documents he gave Queens- 
 berry a letter signed " M," for Mary of Modena, purporting 
 to be addressed to this nobleman. " You may be sure," the 
 ex-Queen had written, " that when my concerns require the 
 help of my friends, you are one of the first I have in my 
 view." The letter was genuine, but it was Simon, and not 
 the Queen, who had added the address to Lord Athole. In 
 his memoirs Simon admits having attempted to compromise 
 Athole and declares that in so doing he was doing good 
 service as a loyal and zealous Jacobite. For was not Lord 
 Athole " notoriously the incorrigible enemy of King James"? 
 and had not "his accumulated treasons rendered his person 
 odious to all his Majesty's faithful servants " ? " God 
 knows," he piously remarks, " what rewards these services 
 have procured him." 
 
 As a result of his negotiations with Queensberry, Simon 
 obtained, first a pass to London, and thence a pass to 
 Holland, en route for St. Germains. He had offered, says 
 Queensberry, to return there, and " do great service for the 
 Government " as a spy. But he had gained nothing so far 
 by his treachery, and his situation was very delicate. He 
 had, indeed, succeeded in convincing his companion to Scot- 
 land, John Murray, that it had been necessary, in the Jaco- 
 bite interest, for him to see Queensberry, and the apparent 
 failure of their joint mission might possibly be explained to 
 the satisfaction of St. Germains. On the other hand was 
 the danger that the full story of his negotiations with 
 Queensberry might prematurely be made public. But, con- 
 vinced as he was that there would be no immediate rising in 
 the Highlands great enough to serve his turn, he had no 
 alternative but to pursue his risky policy or submit to sit 
 down and wait. 
 
 In the November and December of 1703 Simon was at 
 Rotterdam conducting a varied correspondence. To St. 
 
LORD LOVAT. 173 
 
 Germains he sent a vainglorious " memorial of all that my 
 Lord Lovat did in his voyage to England and Scotland by 
 her Majesty's orders." He declares therein that Queens- 
 berry had made him magnificent offers, the account of which 
 he must have written with a pang of regret that no such 
 offers had been made — which, of course, he had magnani- 
 mously refused. This memorial seems to have been handed 
 in at St. Germains in January, 1704, and it was unfortunate 
 for Simon that he should have sent it so soon, for as yet he 
 did not know that he was himself betrayed. In these same 
 months he was corresponding also with Queensberry, and 
 with the Jacobites in Scotland through the agency of Colin 
 Campbell, of Glenderule, and the famous Robert Ferguson, 
 ^' the plotter." Both these latter personages were, in fact, 
 betraying him, and in December the whole story of his 
 relations with Queensberry was made public. To Queens- 
 berry, who was now charged with plotting against his rival 
 and colleague, Lord Athole, by help of forgeries, these reve- 
 lations were a serious blow ; to Simon they meant ruin, at 
 least for the time. In February, 1704, Simon knew that he 
 was betrayed. To brazen it out was his only chance. On 
 February 24th he wrote to Campbell, whose treachery he 
 had not yet discovered, with lofty sorrow and indignation. 
 "My comfort is," he wrote, "that I neither betrayed my 
 trust nor my friends, nor would not for the universe," and 
 added, with holy horror, " For my part, I believe the day 
 of judgment is at hand." 
 
 What was there now left for him but to go to St. Ger- 
 mains and meet his fate ? He had ceased to be safe in 
 Holland, and to return to Scotland or England would have 
 been suicide. Was he to flee to Germany, or some out- 
 landish region, abandon his career, and live a nameless 
 outcast ? At St. Germains he might, even yet, by dint of 
 ingenuity and audacity, make out some sort of case. In 
 any case he would keep his life and his pretensions, and 
 who could tell what revenges time might bring? Even now 
 Simon's heart did not fail him. " I thank God," he wrote 
 Jong afterwards, " I was born with very little fear." 
 
 With hardship and difficulty, now disguised as an officer 
 
174 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 in the Dutch service, now as a peasant, he reached Antwerp, 
 and was passed on thence by the French authorities to Paris. 
 His expedition had, to some extent, forestalled his enemies. 
 Simon hastened to give his own version of what had oc- 
 curred, and apparently with some effect. But his position 
 became untenable as news came in from England and Scot- 
 land. It seems, however, that the French ministers were 
 somewhat hard to convince, and it was apparently only in 
 August that Simon was, at length, actually arrested under a 
 httre de cachet granted by the French King. 
 
 Simon had now reached the very lowest point of his 
 fortunes, if we except, at least, his great, final fall. Accord- 
 ing to his own account he was conducted with ignominy 
 to the Castle of Angouleme, and there " thrust into a 
 horrible dungeon, which had been from time immemorial 
 the unviolated habitation of coiners and murderers. It was a 
 gentleman of this last class," he adds, " whom the considera- 
 tion of Lord Lovat's friends obliged to give way to him in 
 the present instance." In this dungeon he remained " shut 
 up for thirty-five days in perfect darkness," tended the while 
 by a " grim jailoress, who came every day to throw him 
 something to eat, in the same silent and cautious manner in 
 which you would feed a mad dog." How far this story is 
 true is quite uncertain, but that some such severity was 
 used seems rather probable. In any case, however, the 
 French Government seems soon to have repented of its 
 harshness, and Simon was released from his dungeon. 
 
 But for the next ten years Simon remained a prisoner in 
 France, first at Angouleme, and afterwards on parole at 
 Saumur. There is little to say concerning this long period 
 of eclipse. It appears that after the first he was treated 
 rather handsomely by the French Government. He himself 
 asserts that at Angouleme he had the free run of the castle 
 and park, and free intercourse with " the most considerable 
 persons in the city and neighbourhood," and that he found 
 it a " beautiful and enchanting prison." At Saumur, though 
 a prisoner, he was not in prison at all ; he simply resided 
 there, not altogether uncomfortably, at the French King's, 
 expense. Major Fraser says that when he reached Saumur 
 
LORD LOVAT. 175 
 
 in 1714 " Lord Simon was then but very low in his person," 
 but, on the other hand, his personal liberty seems to have 
 been practically almost unrestricted. He made friends, too, 
 among the gentle families of the neighbourhood, and in 
 particular with that of the Marquis de La Frezeliere, who 
 seems to have recognised in him a kinsman. He also 
 struck up a close alliance with the Jesuits of Saumur. 
 It is tolerably clear that he could have left France 
 long before he did had he chosen, but where could 
 he have gone ? All through this period of disgrace he 
 corresponded, as he found occasion, with the Whigs in 
 England ; but this led to nothing, and the Court of St. 
 Germains remained inexorable. On both sides the way 
 was barred against him, and he could only wait. Nor was 
 his position ever free of actual danger. Some fresh dis- 
 covery might well lead to a renewal of the severe measures 
 of 1704, and it is said that on the days when the post came 
 in to Saumur from Paris he used to betake himself to some 
 hiding-place, lest there should be fresh orders of an ob- 
 jectionable kind. 
 
 Many extravagant and some incredible tales were after- 
 wards circulated concerning Simon's life and adventures 
 in France. It was said that he took orders, that he became 
 a Jesuit, a'nd, in the character of father confessor, sadly 
 abused the confidence of some of his fair penitents ; and 
 even that he obtained a cure, and became a popular preacher! 
 There seems to be no tittle of evidence for any of these 
 stories. 
 
 That Simon was not crushed by his misfortunes is certain, 
 though the forced inaction to a man of his acutely rest- 
 less temperament must have been a severe penalty. He 
 emerged at length from his long eclipse with unmitigated 
 zest for the good things of life, with the old unconquerable 
 and never-to-be-satisfied avidity for power, pleasure, honours, 
 and triumphs. 
 
 He emerged in this manner. In the year 170a the 
 young girl, Amelia Fraser, heiress of the Lovat inheri- 
 tance according to the Murrays, was married to Alexander 
 Mackenzie, son of Roderick Mackenzie, Lord Preston- 
 
176 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 hall, a judge of the Court of Session at Edinburgh. 
 In December of the same year Alexander had obtained, 
 under a judgment delivered by his father, the estate of 
 Lovat, and therewith the chieftaincy for himself and the 
 long-disputed title for his wife. The estate was forthwith 
 settled upon the issue of the marriage, any heir under the 
 settlement being thereby bound to assume the name of 
 Fraser. After John Fraser, Simon's brother and repre- 
 sentative, had been put down, the clan submitted, though 
 sullenly, to the new arrangement. In 1706 Mackenzie 
 foolishly had a deed executed whereby his heirs were em- 
 powered to retain the name of Mackenzie. This insult to 
 the clan pride was duly resented, and would probably have 
 led to immediate disturbance had the clansmen known 
 whether their true chief, Simon, was dead or alive. But, 
 as the Major says, " the most part of the name of Fraser 
 knew nothing of their natural chief's being in life " ; and 
 consequently, though there was unquiet fermentation, 
 nothing was done. In 1713, however, John Fraser, who 
 had taken refuge in France, ventured to return to his native 
 country, and the news spread that the " natural chief " was 
 actually living. The consequence was that a number of the 
 principal men of the clan arranged that one of them should 
 go off to France to find Simon and bring him back if 
 possible. The personage selected for this undertaking was 
 Major James Fraser, of Castle Leathers, the writer of the 
 " Manuscript " already referred to. 
 
 The Major set out on his arduous journey in May, 1714, 
 and with considerable difficulty reached Saumur. St. 
 Germains remained obdurate. On the other hand escape 
 from Saumur was tolerably easy, and escape was accord- 
 ingly resolved upon. Simon himself seems to have doubted 
 whether the risk were worth taking, but he took it neverthe- 
 less. The two left Saumur together, Simon giving out that 
 he was going to pay a visit at Rouen. Suspicion was only 
 aroused later, and orders issued for their arrest; but too late. 
 Having spent a day in hiding at Rouen they started off in 
 the night and reached Dieppe, Simon riding and the Major 
 running beside him. There being no ships about to start 
 
LORD LOVAT. I77 
 
 for England at Dieppe, they hurried on in the same fashion 
 to Boulogne, and there, also, could find no ship to take 
 them. The danger was now great, but they succeeded in 
 hiring an open boat, in which they triumphantly crossed to 
 Dover on the night of the 14th of November, though the 
 storm was "so great" that "they all despaired of their 
 lives." 
 
 From Dover they went on to Gravesend, where Simon 
 remained some time in hiding, negotiating through the 
 faithful Major, of whom he was strangely and most imjustly 
 suspicious, with Lord Islay, brother of the Duke of Argyll, 
 and other Scottish Whigs then in London. There was little 
 or no use in attempting to reach the Highlands at once ; but, 
 meanwhile, Simon was far from being safe. Queen Anne, 
 indeed, his most powerful enemy, was dead ; but as soon as 
 his other foes should get wind of his whereabouts they would 
 assuredly bestir themselves. There was no time to be lost.. 
 As a result of Simon's negotiating, Lord Islay drew up a 
 petition to be sent to the Highlands for signature by the 
 leading men of those regions and then presented to the 
 English ministers, asking for a pardon for Simon, and setting 
 forth that " in case there was anything adoe, that he would 
 be very useful at the head of his clan at home." With this 
 paper the Major was sent north in December, and went 
 round the Highlands in company with his brother-in-law, 
 Alexander Eraser of Phopachy. When they had to deal 
 with a Jacobite they told him that the petition really 
 originated at St. Germains : to King George's friends they 
 told the truth. In this manner they " travelled the five 
 northern counties in the winter storm, and got the subscrip- 
 tions of every leading man in that country," says the 
 worthy Major. Their success is, indeed, very remarkable, 
 but can be accounted for by the concurrent operation of 
 opposed forces — the influence of Argyll, widespread dislike 
 of the Murrays and Jacobitism. In February, 1715, the 
 Major returned to London with his petition, now bearing 
 the signatures of between sixty and seventy of the most 
 important men of the Highlands, including the Earl of 
 Sutherland and the members of Parliament and sheriffs of 
 
 13 
 
178 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 the northern counties. But the petition had no immediate 
 effect ; and just about this time Lord Athole had become 
 suspicious that Simon was in England, and had written to 
 the Duke of Montrose, in London, to hunt him out. Simon 
 was now actually in London, and his position was very 
 critical. If he were arrested now there was great danger 
 that he would remain a prisoner till the troubles brewing in 
 the north had passed over, and then his chance would be 
 gone. " The Major and his chief was {sic) forced then to 
 make many a moonlight ilitting from one part of London to 
 another," and in this manner eluded search till June. On 
 June nth, however, they were found and arrested in Soho 
 Square, and thrust into a sponging-house. And just at 
 this time outbroke the expected rebellion of the Highland 
 Jacobites. The crisis had come. 
 
 When Major Fraser had been sent from Stratheric to 
 France in 1714 it had been justly thought by the clansmen 
 he represented that " if Simon could be stolen out of France 
 he might come to fish in drumly waters." Now the waters 
 at length were in commotion, and poor Simon in a sponging- 
 house ! If only his enemies could have kept him there for 
 the next few months he would never have been Lord of the 
 Frasers. But his Whig friends were convinced that he 
 could and would be of use in this juncture, and they saved 
 him. Several Highland gentlemen, with Lord Sutherland 
 at their head, came forward and offered bail for him to the 
 amount of £"5,000. 
 
 In consequence Simon found himself free again, but, 
 unhappily, whereas King George's Highland friends were 
 now all ordered north, there was no pardon, and therefore, 
 of course, no pass for Simon. If he went north, nevertheless, 
 he must do so at the risk of arrest everywhere on the road. 
 
 But go north he must. A chance had come to him far 
 too good to be thrown away for want of a little daring, and 
 though Simon hesitated it was not for long. His course was 
 clear before him if only, by the good help of his powerful 
 friends, he could reach his own country. For Alexander 
 Mackenzie, the usurper of the chieftaincy of the Frasers, had 
 been foolish enough to declare for the rebels. Herein lay 
 
LORD LOVAT. 179 
 
 Simon's luck, for if now he could induce his clansmen to 
 desert their alien chief and throw them, in the nick of time, 
 on the side of King George, he would thereby render service 
 which could not but be handsomely rewarded if King George 
 prevailed. At a blow he might gain the inheritance for 
 which he had so long endeavoured. One may make bold to 
 say that, in July, 1715, King George had no more zealous 
 and devoted adherent than Simon Fraser. 
 
 Simon, therefore, set out for the north in the character of 
 Major Eraser's servant, the Major himself having obtained 
 a pass as acting under a lawful commission. At Newcastle 
 they were arrested and detained by an obstinate mayor, and 
 got free with difficulty ; passing on into Scotland, they were 
 helped by Brigadier Grant, one of Simon's bails, and by the 
 Duke of Argyll, and reached Stirling without mishap. The 
 difficulty of proceeding was now great, with, as the Major 
 says, " the Highland army guarding all the roads." Simon 
 resolved to go to Edinburgh, and thence by sea. " I was 
 not two hours at Edinburgh," he wrote to Lord Islay after- 
 wards, " when I was made prisoner by order of the Justice 
 Clerk, and was designed to be sent to the castle that 
 night, and, I believe, to be scaffolded the next day, if I had 
 not been delivered and relieved from that danger by Provost 
 John Campbell," who acted, in this matter, on behalf of his 
 chief, the Duke of Argyll. 
 
 In company with John Forbes of Culloden, one of the 
 gentlemen who had stood bail for him, Simon finally suc- 
 ceeded in embarking at Leith by night and reaching Fraser- 
 burgh on the coast of Aberdeen, though pursued and fired 
 at by rebel boats on the way. From Fraserburgh they 
 managed, at length, to get to Culloden Castle, the seat of 
 the Forbeses, near the verge of the Fraser country. 
 
 The game, as it proved, was won as soon as Simon 
 reached Stratheric. The whole Fraser clan rapidly gathered 
 to him at his summons, leaving the unfortunate Mackenzie 
 in the lurch. " Lovat is the life and soul of the party 
 here," wrote the Earl of Mar, in February, 1716; "the 
 whole country and his name dote on him ; all the Erasers 
 have left us since his appearing in the country." But 
 
i8o TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Simon's most important exploit was the capture of Inverness 
 from the rebels, concerted and carried out between himself, 
 the Forbeses and the Grants, in November, 1715. In his 
 own account of this affair Simon appears both as the prime 
 mover and the chief actor in it ; and, however this may be, 
 it was most certainly the withdrawal of the Frasers from 
 the Jacobite cause and their prompt engagement on the 
 other side that rendered it possible. " This," wrote Simon 
 to Lord Islay, when he was engaged in enforcing gratitude 
 on the Government afterwards, " was the greatest piece of 
 service that was done in this country to any King, at several 
 ages; for as I took possession of Inverness the Saturday 
 before Sheriff Muir was fought. If it had been delayed 
 three days, there had been about two thousand of the rebels 
 of my Lord Mar's army in the town of Inverness, so that it 
 would have been impracticable for the King's friends to have 
 attempted the reducing of it. Then the Pretender would 
 have come there, and against the next spring would have 
 had a greater army than ever appeared for him in Scotland ; 
 and having all the Highlands and isles behind his back to 
 retire to if he was beat, it would at least have cost several 
 thousand men and some millions to the Government before 
 he would be chased out of Scotland." And in these too 
 emphatic phrases there is more than a little truth. 
 
 The final collapse of the rebellion, to which Simon's 
 action had not a little contributed, practically secured him 
 in the position he had won at the head of the Clan Fraser. 
 It only remained for a grateful Government to legalise that 
 position ; and if there were still difficulties in the way of 
 Simon's complete establishment as Lord Lovat, they were 
 only of a legal complexion. 
 
 On March 10, 1716, Simon at last secured his " ample 
 and complete pardon for every imaginable crime," and in 
 the June following he was honoured with a special audience 
 of His Majesty, King George. In August he received a 
 special royal grant of all the escheatable property of the 
 unlucky Mackenzie. 
 
 Alexander Mackenzie had escaped and been outlawed, 
 but he was not indicted for treason and there could be no 
 
LORD LOVAT. i8i 
 
 complete forfeiture. He only lost his personal property and 
 his life-interest in the estates. The Crown could not defraud 
 his heir under the settlement. Hence the estates would 
 only belong to Simon so long as Alexander lived ; after his 
 death it would pass to his son, unless legal means could be 
 found to prevent that issue. And the right to the Lovat 
 peerage was still in dispute. But, meanwhile, Simon was 
 in actual possession, and, if not yet recognised as Lord 
 Lovat, was indubitably the MacShimi, chief of the Clan 
 Fraser. Practically he had conquered his heritage. His 
 unrelaxing and remorseless energy had carried him from the 
 dungeon of Angouleme to a throne in the Highlands. He 
 had known hard times and was nearing his fiftieth year, but 
 his hand was as strong to grasp as ever, and his heart as 
 strong to enjoy. Little now remained to be done to make 
 him all he had ever dreamed of being, and that little it was 
 in his power to do. 
 
 n. 
 
 No sooner was Simon seated on his hard-won throne than 
 he plunged into Htigation. To the MacShimi the peerage 
 might well have seemed a trifle, and, in fact, Simon does not 
 seem to have disputed it at law till after the death of Amelia, 
 the whilome heiress. But the claim on the estates held by 
 the Mackenzies he was utterly resolved to be rid of. There 
 ensued a long and complicated lawsuit, which, with its 
 risks and delays and chicanery would have been to most 
 men a weariness and anxiety almost intolerable ; but to 
 Simon it was a joy like any other kind of fighting. Finally 
 the harassed Mackenzies were induced to compound; in 
 1733 Hugh Mackenzie, the heir, gave up all his claims, 
 including that to the peerage, for a consideration. 
 
 It was a magnificent position which Simon had achieved. 
 The Fraser territories had, under letters patent of 1704, been 
 m.ade into what was termed a " regality," probably by way 
 of assisting the Mackenzies against Simon's own adherents 
 in the clan. This means that, in addition to the powers 
 
i82 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 ordinarily exercised with or without legal right by a High- 
 land chief, Simon was in possession of extraordinary legal 
 powers. He had his own courts and his own police ; he 
 could grant charters, build prisons, and even coin money. 
 The King's courts had no ordinary jurisdiction over his 
 subjects, the Frasers. He could claim them from the King's 
 courts, and hang or behead, drown, dismember, brand, whip, 
 fine, imprison, or banish them — not, of course, at his own 
 will and pleasure precisely, but as sovereign judge according 
 to Scottish law. He was, in fact, a miniature king, and with 
 more actual power than the generality of crowned kings ; 
 for he had, on the whole, wonderfully submissive subjects, 
 and the superior powers were far off. Moreover, to the 
 honours and authority he had acquired the Government 
 added more : making him Sheriff of Inverness and, as such, 
 a judge with power of life and death, in case of murder, 
 throughout the whole county, and allowing him to main- 
 tain an " independent company," or private regiment, of 
 Highlanders. 
 
 For nearly thirty years Simon held his position as a High- 
 land chieftain and lord of regality. Concerning this long 
 period of his prosperity it is difficult to gather many trust- 
 worthy details. Simon's aim, as chief, was to maintain and 
 strengthen the clan feeling, and, therewith, his own hold on 
 the clan, against the adverse English and Lowland influences 
 of the time. For the old Highland system was beginning to 
 break up under alien pressure. The Union with England 
 had come about in 1707, and, in 1726, General Wade and 
 his troops had come to the Highlands to make roads and 
 enforce order. It was the conquest of the Highlands that 
 was beginning — that painful though salutary process against 
 which the Highlands revolted in 1745. By all means in his 
 power Simon strove to keep up the old usages and the clan 
 spirit, on which the power of the chiefs depended ; by all 
 means in his power he strove to acquire and preserve the 
 affection, as well as the obedience, of his clan. 
 
 He was, he represented, the father of his people ; stern 
 doubtless, and despotic, as a father should be, but loving 
 withal. A very remarkable letter or manifesto which he 
 
LORD LOVAT. 183 
 
 addressed, in 1718, " to the honourable the Gentlemen of 
 the Clan Fraser" finely illustrates this. At that time he 
 was ill and in London, and his position still unsettled. 
 The letter is quite grand in its paternal and religious dignity. 
 " My dear Friends," it begins — " Since, by all appearances, 
 this is the last time of my life I shall have occasion to write 
 to you, I being now very ill of a dangerous fever, I do 
 declare to you before God, before whom I must appear and 
 all of us at the great day of judgment, that I loved you 
 all." Then, after solemn reiteration and expansion, and a 
 dignified reference, in a spirit of Christian forgiveness, to 
 poor Major Fraser and others, whom he was then treating 
 with gross ingratitude, he goes on to conjure his people to 
 stand by his family after he is gone. He warns them that 
 if they fail in this their duty they will be driven from their 
 country by the Mackenzies. " And you will be like the 
 miserable, unnatural Jews, scattered and vagabond through- 
 out the unhappy kingdom of Scotland, and the poor wives 
 and children that remains of the name, without a head or 
 protection, when they are told the traditions of their family, 
 will be cursing from their hearts the persons and memory 
 of those unnatural, cowardly, knavish men, who sold and 
 abandoned their chief, their name, their birthright, and their 
 country for a false and foolish present gain ; even as the 
 most of Scots people curse this day those who sold them 
 and their country to the English, by the fatal Union, which 
 I hope will not last long." Then follows the peroration, a 
 fine display of lofty religious sentiment and mouth-filling 
 orthodoxy. " I make my earnest and dying prayers to God 
 Almighty, that He may in His mercy, through the merits of 
 Christ Jesus, save you and all my poor people, whom I 
 always found honest and zealous to me and their duty, from 
 that blindness of heart that will inevitably bring those ruins 
 and disgraces upon you and your posterity ; and I pray that 
 Almighty and merciful God, who has so often miraculously 
 saved my family and name from utter ruin, may give you the 
 spirit of courage, of zeal, and of fidelity, that you owe to 
 your chief, to your name, to yourselves, to your children, 
 and to your country ; and may the most merciful and 
 
i84 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 adorable Trinity, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, three persons, 
 one God, save all your souls eternally, through the blood of 
 Christ Jesus, our blessed Lord Saviour, to whom I heartily 
 recommend you." 
 
 Let it not be imagined that there was nothing genuine in 
 the sentiments thus blasphemously and eloquently expressed; 
 Simon had assuredly a certain clan patriotism ; and the 
 thought that after his death a Mackenzie might possess 
 the chieftaincy, and the name of Fraser cease to be, was 
 altogether intolerable to him. 
 
 Simon, however, did not die, but lived and enjoyed the 
 fruits of his labours. At Castle Downie, we are told, on 
 the authority of James Ferguson, the astronomer, who at 
 one time lived there several months, "he kept a sort of Court, 
 and several public tables, and had a very numerous body of 
 retainers always attending. His own constant residence, 
 and the place where he received company, and even dined 
 constantly with them, was in just one room only, and that 
 the very room wherein he lodged. And his lady's sole apart- 
 ment was also her own bedchamber; and the only provision 
 made for lodging, either of the domestic servants or of the 
 numerous herd of retainers, was a quantity of straw, which 
 was spread overnight on the floors of the four lower rooms 
 of this sort of tower-like structure. Sometimes about four 
 hundred persons, attending this petty Court, were kennelled 
 here, and I have heard the same worthy man, from whose 
 lips the exact account of what is here related has been 
 taken, declare that of those wretched dependants he has 
 seen . . . three or four, and sometimes half a dozen, hung 
 lip by the heels for hours, on the few trees outside the 
 mansion." 
 
 Simon kept open house, and even the raggedest ruffian of 
 the clan could dine at Castle Downie. The ranks and 
 orders of men, however, were strictly observed, and with 
 due regard to economy. At the head of the long table sat 
 Simon, and, near him, distinguished guests. For them 
 there was claret and French cookery. Lower down came 
 the more important class of vassals, enjoying solid beef and 
 mutton, and some inferior wine. At the lower end were 
 
LORD LOVAT. 185 
 
 crowded the inferior vassals, with sheep's heads and ale or 
 whiskey before them. And on the castle green in summer, 
 and in the winter, in the outhouses, were the lowest class of 
 clansmen, mere ne'er-do-weels, landless men and beggars, 
 gnawing the bones and enjoying the offal. What was left 
 over from the lord's table went to the domestic servants, 
 who seem to have got little, if anything, else. Simon is 
 said to have shown much dexterity in soothing feelings 
 ruffled by these rather invidious arrangements. " Cousin ! " 
 he would call out from the head of the table to some dis- 
 satisfied Fraser at the lower end, " I told my lads to bring 
 you claret, but I see you like ale better: here's to your roof- 
 tree ! " 
 
 In this picturesque and mediaeval fashion lived Simon, 
 Lord Lovat, near the middle of the last century ; uncomfort- 
 ably enough, according to modern notions, but despotically 
 and after his own heart. With his clansmen he affected a 
 coarsely genial manner, without forgetting dignity. That he 
 was a harsh and grasping and even a cruel master is certain. 
 We have noticed already men " hung up by the heels " ; we 
 hear, also, of men and women thrust into peculiarly un- 
 comfortable dungeons, and kept there, without law, till they 
 had made sufficiently abject submission. A subject who 
 dared to cross or molest Simon was in danger of having his 
 barns burned some night, and his cattle driven off or injured, 
 and his wife and children pulled out of their beds. Yet, in 
 spite of all this, Simon had to go through a great deal of 
 litigation with certain of his clansmen, in consequence of 
 his refusal to pay the old bonds of 1702, and other just 
 debts. Brave Major Fraser, Simon's partner in the escape 
 from France, was one of those who suffered from the chief's 
 ingratitude. In any case, however, it seems certain that 
 Simon retained his power over the clan undiminished to 
 the close. Highlanders, of course, expected to be roughly 
 handled, and it was no use treating them otherwise. And, 
 though Simon was doubtless grasping and somewhat 
 tyrannical, he was, probably, a just ruler when not per- 
 sonally crossed ; and he certainly kept good order, not only 
 in the Fraser country but as Sheriff of Inverness. 
 
1 86 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Simon was twice married in the days of his glory ; first to 
 Margaret Grant, daughter of the Laird of Grant, in 1717, 
 and, in 1733, a year after her death, to Primrose Campbell, 
 daughter of John Campbell of Mamore, who was brother to 
 the first Duke of Argyll. About the marriage with the 
 former lady some difficulty seems to have arisen in connec- 
 tion with that old affair of the Dowager Lady Lovat, who 
 was still living, and lived down to 1743 ; but this was 
 speedily set aside. His second marriage marks the highest 
 point of Simon's 'fortunes. He had then won all his points, 
 and the marriage allied him with one of the very greatest of 
 Scottish families. The Duke of Argyll and his brother, the 
 Earl of Islay, the Countess of Mar and Lord Elphinstone, 
 the bride's uncle, attended the wedding, and Duncan Forbes 
 was one of the witnesses. According to tradition Simon 
 treated his second wife with shameful brutality ; but, con- 
 sidering who she was, this is probably either totally untrue, 
 or, at least, a gross exaggeration. Simon had several sons 
 and daughters, but with all but one of them we have nothing 
 to do. There seems to be no trace of any natural affection 
 in Simon, unless his expressions of regret for the death of 
 his brother, John, can be so taken. John Fraser died in 
 1715, apparently as the result of drinking and debauchery. 
 
 We now come to the story of the great blunder of Simon's 
 life and his consequent fall. Even in the early years of his 
 reign at Castle Downie Simon had turned again towards 
 St. Germains. It is certain that he was implicated in the 
 Jacobite and Spanish conspiracies, which led to an abortive 
 and hopeless Jacobite landing in 1719. At that time he 
 actually fell under suspicion of the Government, and had to 
 go to London to clear himself, which he did so successfully 
 that King George consented to stand godfather, by proxy, 
 to his first-born. But from that time onwards he engaged 
 himself continually and more and more deeply with the 
 Court of St. Germains. Gradually the Government became 
 again suspicious, and first his independent company, then 
 his post of sheriff, was taken from him, in 1741. As his favour 
 waned in London his interest in the Court of St. Germains 
 waxed. Thus Simon's divergence into Jacobite courses after 
 
LORD LOVAT. 187- 
 
 1715 led to action on the part of the Government which sorely 
 irritated him and increased his inclination to stake some- 
 thing on the restoration of the Stuart. But how are we to 
 explain that divergence ? He may well have thought that 
 the restoration of the Stuart would mean the complete 
 restoration of the old, now threatened, Highland system 
 and the practical independence of the Highland chiefs. The 
 rising of 1745 appears to have been rather a rising against 
 the English and the Union than a rising on behalf of the 
 Stuart — at least to most Highlanders the two things were 
 the same. Simon may have actually shared in the senti- 
 ments that gave its strength to the rising. Moreover, the 
 restoration of the Stuart, even so late as 1745, must, at 
 least in the Highlands, have seemed no very improbable an 
 event. It was not easy for any one there to tell how much 
 or how little effective Jacobitism there might be in England. 
 And, if such a restoration should come about without Simon 
 having had a part in it, he would assuredly be ruined. All 
 this, however, does not appear sufficient by itself to explain 
 Simon's conduct. The fact is that he was not content with 
 what he had won in 1716. And why should we expect him 
 to have been so ? 
 
 To be content is the note of a nature far less stirring and 
 daring. What such a man as Simon enjoys is not so much 
 possession as the struggle for possession, not so much the 
 triumph as the battle. To him ends are but pretexts for 
 action. In 1716, already, he had conquered ; but was there 
 no more to conquer ? Lawsuits could not satisfy his soul. 
 The exact object — a dukedom, the extension of his estates, 
 a dominant position among the lords of the Highlands — 
 was comparatively unimportant. But all these things 
 might be attained through Jacobitism, and being far from 
 easy of attainment were proportionately attractive. 
 
 Thus, in 174S, Simon had many intelligible reasons for 
 risking his head. If the rebellion succeeded he would become 
 Duke of Eraser — that had been arranged for already. His 
 " independent company " would be restored, and he might 
 reasonably expect to further enrich himself out of the spoils 
 of his Whig neighbours so as to become dominant in the 
 
1 88 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 ■central Highlands. Finally, and in any case, his indepen- 
 dence as a Highland chief would become more absolute and 
 secure by the establishment of the Stuart. And on the other 
 hand he ran the risk of utter ruin by taking the Government 
 side. But all this involved the assumption that the Pre- 
 tender had a reasonable chance of success. Simon ought, it 
 seems to us now, to have known better. He did know that 
 the risk was great ; perhaps he even understood that the 
 chances were against the Jacobites. When the news of the 
 Pretender's landing, which took place in July, was brought 
 to Castle Downie, he remarked that he did not land like a 
 prince, having no army with him, but a few servants only. 
 Doubtless Simon had hoped for the landing of a French 
 army ; and he must have known that without French troops 
 success was at least exceedingly doubtful. 
 
 He did know it, and he made his plans accordingly. 
 Openly to declare for and join the Pretender he did not 
 dare — the risk was not worth taking. He must hedge, and, 
 if possible, stand not to lose, whatever happened. Study of 
 his remarkable letters of this time reveals the fact that from 
 the beginning of the uproar his plans were formed. He was 
 now an old man, verging on his eightieth year, and might 
 reasonably be supposed to be infirm and even decrepit. His 
 age and his assumed infirmities formed the base of his 
 project. So old and decrepit a personage could not be 
 expected to turn out himself on either side ; and was it 
 to be expected that he would be able to control his wild 
 Highlanders at such a moment of excitement ? Besides, had 
 not the Government taken away his regiment ? If he was to 
 join in suppressing the rebellion he would have first to arm 
 his men — and where were the arms to come from ? These 
 considerations duly urged in the proper quarters would 
 certainly enable him to temporise, and meanwhile he could 
 be, without inconsistency, preparing for action. If things 
 went badly for the Pretender at the outset then his loyalty 
 would triumphantly reassert itself ; and if, on the other 
 hand, the Pretender looked like winning, would it not be 
 possible to give him all the help he could reasonably expect 
 while remaining, in appearance, loyal to the Government } It 
 
LORD LOVAT. 189 
 
 was delicate dealing, but it might be possible. Simon had 
 a son, a boy of nineteen only, but old enough to head the 
 clan to war if authorised to do so. Him he could send 
 to the Pretender with a sufficiency of men, taking no 
 refusal on his part. On the other hand, would it not be 
 possible to make out that his clan had rebelled, that his son 
 had gone out against the will, in defiance of the positive 
 orders, of the poor, infirm, despised old chief ? If this could 
 be done he would be safe on both sides. If the Pretender 
 should prove victorious he would have done enough. If King 
 George should triumph, his son might be hanged but not he. 
 
 Such was Simon's combination ; subtle certainly, and all the 
 more fascinating to him because requiring the most delicate 
 handling. But one can hardly say that, in the event of 
 a Jacobite failure, it had any real chance of success. Had 
 Simon been a man " above suspicion " he might perhaps 
 have safely indulged in such tricks in his old age ; but the 
 Government was suspicious of him from the start, and was 
 sure to look sharply into his proceedings. And, whatever 
 might be his infirmities, it was notorious that he was one 
 of the most despotic chiefs in the Highlands. His plea 
 of incapacity was simply incredible. At the time it was 
 thought by some that age had affected Simon's wits. Sir 
 John Clerk, who knew him personally, was of this opinion : 
 " He was all his life a cunning, double man, but this 
 dexterity left him a year or two before the Rebellion, for 
 in drawing on to his age of seventy-eight, seventy-nine, and 
 eighty, he began to dream and dote, so that in his conduct 
 he committed many great absurdities." Yet he carried out 
 his plans with astonishing dexterity, and never was his 
 wondrous power of lying so superbly manifested as in this 
 last struggle of his life. 
 
 Soon after the Pretender's landing Simon commenced 
 operations by having lists drawn out of the number of his 
 clansmen capable of bearing arms, and began to look out for 
 arms for them. On August 23rd he wrote to the Lord 
 Advocate Craigie of Glendoick. " I am as ready this day," 
 he wrote, " to serve the King and Government as I was 
 in the year 1715. . . • But my clan and I have been so 
 
190 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 neglected these many years past, that I have not twelve 
 stand of arms in my country. . . . Therefore, my good lord, 
 I earnestly entreat that, as you wish I would do good service 
 ■to the Government on this critical occasion, you may order 
 immediately a thousand stand of arms to be delivered to me 
 and to my clan at Inverness, and then your lordship shall 
 see that I will exert myself for the King's service." This 
 audacious attempt to get arms out of the Government for 
 use according to circumstances failed, and its failure ought 
 -to have been a warning to Simon. But this is not all. Simon 
 was careful to add that he had been " entirely infirm these 
 three or four months past," and further to hint at serious 
 disaffection in his clan. " My people," he wrote, " cry out 
 horridly." 
 
 But it was not the Lord Advocate whom Simon was most 
 concerned to convince of the purity of his intentions, but 
 Duncan Forbes of Culloden, Lord President of the Court 
 of Session. Forbes was an old ally of his, had been counsel 
 for him in the earlier litigation with the Mackenzies, but 
 was, nevertheless, a thoroughly honest as well as a very 
 able man ; and of all men in high official position in 
 Scotland at that time, was probably the most entirely 
 trusted by the Government. It was essential to the 
 successful carrying through of his plans that he should 
 absolutely convince the Lord President; and the more so 
 as Forbes's house at Culloden lay close to the edge of the 
 Fraser territories. 
 
 On August 24th he writes to Forbes to much the same effect 
 as he wrote to the Lord Advocate. His clan is unarmed and 
 unprotected ; the rebels threaten to harry the lands of those 
 who will not join them ; some of his people are thereby 
 affrighted and others eager to join the rising; he himself 
 is very ill. " However, if I be able to ride in my chariot the 
 length of Inverness, I am resolved to go to Stratheric next 
 week and endeavour to. keep my people in order." It was 
 most important for the success of his combination to repre- 
 sent his clan as unruly and infected with Jacobitism from the 
 very outset. But so far was this from actually being the 
 case that Simon seems to have been obliged to employ con- 
 
LORD LOVAT. 191 
 
 siderable pressure to get his men to turn out at all. He was 
 probably already in August in actual correspondence with 
 Jacobite chiefs ; and in September we find him writing to 
 Cameron of Lochiel in a warning and regretful tone. " I 
 fear," he wrote, "you have been over-rash in going ere 
 affairs were ripe. . . . I'll aid when I can, but my prayers 
 are all I can give at present. My service to the prince, but 
 I wish he had not come here so empty-handed. Siller would 
 go far in the Highlands." 
 
 On September 21st was fought the Battle of Prestonpans — 
 for Simon, as it proved, a most unlucky victory. If only the 
 Highlanders had been beaten we may be sure that Simon's 
 loyalty would have shone forth as conspicuously as in 1715. 
 But the result of the battle determined Simon on putting 
 into execution the ruinous combination already explained. 
 Up to this time he had damaged the cause of the Govern- 
 ment by his inaction, but he had not precisely compromised 
 himself. Now he proceeded to compromise himself hope- 
 lessly. 
 
 He began at once to actively gather and distribute arms, 
 tents, and other munitions of war, to hold rendezvous of the 
 men of the clan, and to apply the necessary pressure. During 
 the next three months he threw off the mask — at least so far 
 as his own clansmen were concerned ; entertained the Earl 
 of Cromarty and other Jacobite chiefs passing through to 
 the front, and drank at his own table " Confusion to the 
 White Horse." All this was doubtless necessary if he was 
 to do anything for the Pretender at all, but it was none the 
 less ruinous. In November he wrote to the Pretender's 
 secretary, John Murray of Broughton, to excuse himself for 
 not having joined sooner, and to promise immediate aid. 
 " I solemnly protest, dear sir, that it was the greatest grief 
 of my life that my indisposition and severe sickness kept 
 me from going south to my dear, brave Prince, and never 
 parting with him while I was able to stand, but venture my 
 old bones with pleasure in his service." But being unable to 
 go myself, "I send my eldest son, the hopes of my family and 
 the darling of my life. ... I have sent him to venture the 
 last drop of his blood in the glorious Prince's service," and 
 
193 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 with him all the best men of the clan. Along with this 
 letter he sent another in exactly the same strain, and much 
 in the same words, to the Pretender himself. And to 
 Lochiel he wrote, " I am resolved to live and die with 
 courage and resolution in my King and royal Prince's 
 service ; ... no death that they can invent can lessen 
 my zeal or fright me from my duty." 
 
 All this was emphatic and as it should have been ; but 
 it was in the letters written in these same months to 
 Duncan Forbes that Simon exhibited the art of lying in 
 its perfection. All through September, October, and 
 November, he wrote to Forbes letter after letter giving 
 his version of the occurrences in the Fraser country. The 
 way in which he gradually insinuates the increasing un- 
 ruliness of his clan is masterly. On October nth " the 
 contagion" has become "so universal" that he knows not 
 what to do. On the 17th his son is resolved to join the 
 Pretender. On the 20th, " I cannot help it. I must submit 
 to the will of God, and there I must leave it." His son 
 is past all control. " And, as God Almighty has at many 
 times wonderfully delivered me out of many dangers and 
 difficulties by land and sea, I throw myself on His Divine 
 Providence, and trust myself entirely to it ; for if God in 
 His Providence save my estate, I do not give three half- 
 pence for my life, for it is but wearisome to me and full 
 of troubles." On October 27th he is so ill that he can 
 hardly walk ! 
 
 On his side Forbes was doing his best, by argument, 
 exhortation, and, later, by menace, to show Simon the error 
 of his ways, and clearly hinting at his absolute incredulity 
 concerning the alleged rebelliousness of the Clan Fraser. 
 But Simon was infatuated and held on his course. His 
 letter of October 30th, in answer to one in which Forbes 
 warned him in the clearest manner, is a masterpiece in its 
 way. " I give your lordship," Simon wrote, " a thousand 
 thanks for the kind freedom you use with me, ... for I see 
 by it that, for my misfortune in having an obstinate, stubborn 
 son and an ungrateful kindred, my family must go to destruc- 
 tion, and I must lose my life in my old age. . . . Am I, my 
 
LORD LOVAT. 193 
 
 lord, the first father that has had an undutiful and unnatural 
 son ? Or am I the first man that has made a good estate 
 and saw it destroyed in his own time by the mad, foolish 
 actings of an unnatural son, who prefers his own extravagant 
 fancies to the solid advice of an affectionate old father ? I 
 have seen instances of this in my own time, but I never 
 heard till now that the foolishness of a son would take away 
 the liberty and life of a father that lived peaceably, that was 
 an honest man, and well inclined to the rest of mankind. 
 But I find the longer a man lives the more wonders and 
 extraordinary things he sees." All through November he 
 continues in this strain, speaking of himself, on November 
 6th, as " left a contemptible old fellow in my house, and no 
 more notice taken of me than if I vvas a child." But mean- 
 while the Government had determined to take strong action, 
 and late in November Simon was informed that a strong 
 body of troops was about to enter his country. 
 
 But it was too late. On the ist of December Simon 
 wrote to Forbes to announce that his son had, at last, fairly 
 started for the Pretender's army. The letter is a master- 
 piece, and must be quoted in its entirety. " My dear Lord," 
 wrote Simon, " I have had many proofs of your lordship's 
 sincere friendship for my person and family, but there was 
 never a period of my life that made me so much the object of 
 compassion as I am at writing this letter. My very enemies, 
 if they knew the unsupportable griefs of my soul this morning, 
 must sympathise with a man so disconsolate and void of 
 comfort. I dare not descend to particulars. My son has 
 left me under silence of last night, contrary to my advice, 
 contrary to my expectations and to my earnest request ; 
 and the consequences of his doing so are to me terrible 
 beyond expression ; though, I declare, I could not have done 
 more to save my own life and the lives of my clan, as well 
 as the estate of Lovat, as I have done, by smooth and rough 
 usage, to detain him at home. This is a subject so melan- 
 choly that I can neither write nor talk upon it ; and there- 
 fore I have sent the bearer, who has the honour to be known 
 to your lordship, to make a faithful report of the uprightness 
 of my conduct in this matter ; and I hope your lordship will 
 
 14 
 
194 TWELVE BAD MEN: 
 
 give credit to what he says. I pray God your lordship may 
 meet \yith no event in life so disastrous and afflicting as this 
 is to me; and that you may live long in perfect health, as- 
 the honour of your country, the support of your friends, and 
 the comforter of the afflicted, and, whatever happen to me in 
 life, I shall always continue with unalterable zeal, gratitude, 
 and respect," &c. 
 
 Clever as his letters of this period are they made no 
 impression upon Duncan Forbes. Simon was lost from the 
 moment he allowed his son to set out southwards. It must 
 here be distinctly stated that, so far from it being true that 
 the young man had insisted on joining the rebels against 
 his father's will, it appears, on the contrary, that Simon had 
 put considerable pressure upon him to induce him to go at 
 all. We have now only to sketch the final collapse. On 
 the nth of December Lord Loudoun, commanding for the 
 Government in those regions, came to Castle Downie with 
 eight hundred men, arrested Simon, and took him to Inver- 
 ness, less as a prisoner than as a hostage for the future. 
 Very shortly after, however, Simon made his escape and got 
 to Stratheric. Probably nothing could now have saved himj 
 but it would have been better to stay quiet at Inverness, 
 Immediately after his escape he received a letter from the 
 Pretender, strongly urging him to declare openly for the 
 rebellion, " in which case we are certain that there is not a 
 man beyond the Forth, however timorous or cautious (except 
 some few who have already destined themselves to perdition) 
 but will appear with the greatest alacrity and cheerfulness." 
 To this high compliment to his reputation in the Highlands 
 Simon returned, through his son, a characteristic reply. He 
 declares that he never spoke "so much as a fair word" to 
 Lord Loudoun or Duncan Forbes except to save himself 
 from arrest, and describes himself as a fugitive wanderer 
 " in hills and woods and inaccessible places." As for 
 declaring openly, that he certainly cannot do unless, at all 
 events, the patent for his dukedom is immediately drawn 
 out. Hard upon this came the news of the fatal retreat 
 from Derby, and Simon began to perceive that the game 
 was played out. He sent a hasty message to his son, 
 
LORD LOVAT. 195 
 
 bidding him return home at once, on the pretext of raising 
 more men for the Pretender's service, but really, of course, 
 to obtain the credit of his recall, and strengthen his own 
 case with the Government. Unfortunately the young man, 
 whose life had been so foully played with, absolutely declined 
 to listen to this suggestion. Steadily the rebel army was 
 driven northwards, and Simon must have seen with terror, 
 if he ever felt fear at all, the soldiers of Cumberland drawing 
 nearer and nearer to his own domain. On April 16, 1746, 
 the wreck of the Highland army was destroyed at Culloden, 
 and the game was over. 
 
 The Pretender, in despair, fled into the neighbouring 
 Fraser country, and visited Simon at Gortuleg, where he 
 was then living in the house of a vassal. The old man's 
 spirit was as high as ever. He is said to have sternly 
 rebuked the young Prince for his declared intention of 
 abandoning the struggle. " Remember," said he, fiercely, 
 " your great ancestor, Robert Bruce, who lost eleven battles 
 and won Scotland by the twelfth." But there was no longer 
 hope nor courage in the councils of the Prince, save only in 
 Simon himself, and the fugitives dispersed in haste. Simon 
 betook himself to an island on the Lake of Muily and, behind 
 him, Cumberland's soldiers were burning Castle Downie to the 
 ground. Near Loch Muily Simon had a last interview with 
 some of the Jacobite chiefs, and made a last effort to procure 
 the adoption of his desperate counsels. He proposed that 
 they should raise, between them, three thousand men, and 
 make a last, fierce stand in the mountains ; so as, if possible, 
 to wrest their pardons from a harassed Government, But 
 there was, in fact, nothing to be done, and the conspirators 
 went each his own way to save his own head, if possible. 
 Simon's way led him, after obscure wanderings, to an island 
 on Loch Morar, not to be reached except by a boat which 
 was in his own possession. There, nevertheless, he was 
 discovered and captured, hidden in a hollow tree, early in 
 June, 1746 ; a boat having been dragged to the lake shore 
 over the strip of land separating Loch Morar from the 
 western sea. The " old fox of the mountains," to use an ex- 
 pression belonging to Mr. R. L. Stevenson, was snared at last. 
 
196 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Simon was now conveyed, a prisoner, through his own 
 country, amid the lamentations of his people and the wail 
 of the women following his litter, to Edinburgh, and thence 
 by easy stages through Berwick to London. One inci- 
 dent only of the journey deserves mention. At the White 
 Hart Inn at St. Albans he was met and interviewed by 
 Hogarth, who utilised the opportunity to make a likeness 
 of him — the famous portrait which forms the frontispiece to 
 this volume. He was lodged in the Tower, and, in December, 
 1746, articles of impeachment were voted against him. 
 
 The trial commenced on March 9, 1747, and sentence was 
 pronounced on March 19th, five days having been occupied 
 in the hearing of evidence. In accordance with the unfair 
 custom of an impeachment Simon was not allowed the 
 assistance of counsel except upon points of law, and all 
 cross-examination of the adverse witnesses had to be done 
 by himself. But however unjust this might be in many 
 cases one is not sure that it was not an actual advantage 
 to Simon. For he had, in fact, no defence ; and the denial 
 of counsel's assistance in cross-examination enabled him to 
 strengthen the plea for mercy which was his only chance. 
 On being informed that he must cross-examine himself or 
 not at all, he replied, with pathetic dignity, " My lords, it 
 is impossible for me then to make any defence, by reason of 
 my infirmities. I do not see ; I do not hear ; I came up to 
 your lordships' bar at the hazard of my life. I fainted away 
 several times, I got up so early. I was up by four o'clock 
 this morning ; and I am so weak that, if I am deprived of the 
 assistance I ask for, your lordships may do as you please ; 
 and it is impossible for me to make any defence at all, if 
 you do not allow my counsel or solicitors to examine the 
 witnesses. I therefore submit myself to your lordships." 
 And thereafter he almost entirely declined to cross-examine. 
 It must be added that the eloquent phrases, " I do not see — 
 I do not hear," conveyed an entire untruth. Simon's sight, 
 at least, seems to have been remarkably good to the last. 
 
 Nothing could have saved him ; there was no manner of 
 doubt about his guilt. His own secretary, as well as the 
 secretary of the Pretender, John Murray of Broughton, 
 
THE INTERIOR OF WESTMINSTER HALL DURING THE TRIAL OF LORD LOVAT. 
 
LORD LOVAT. i97 
 
 appeared as witnesses against him. His Jacobite letters 
 already referred to were produced. The flimsy plea of 
 rebellion on his son's part hopelessly broke down; indeed 
 Simon practically abandoned it. He did not call a solitary 
 witness for the defence. He tried, indeed, to make out 
 that he was prevented from doing so by the force and 
 fraud of his enemies;— that his witnesses were detained in 
 Scotland or intimidated. But he offered absolutely no 
 evidence for these assertions. Practically his defence was 
 a simple plea for mercy on the ground of his age and infir- 
 mities. In urging these upon the court, with due exaggera- 
 tion, he displayed much dexterity, and it does not seem as 
 if there were anything else to have been done. His bearing 
 throughout was dignified and pathetic. But his doom was 
 assured. On March igth he was sentenced to death with 
 the usual barbarous and antiquated formula, having been 
 unanimously declared guilty. He made a dignified and last 
 appeal for mercy, on the ground of his age and past services, 
 ending with the words, " God bless you all, and I bid you 
 an everlasting farewell. We shall not meet all in the same 
 place again ; I am sure of that." And, with this last piece 
 of ironic defiance on his lips, he was removed from the bar 
 and taken back to the Tower to await execution. 
 
 Concerning his behaviour in the last days between his 
 trial and execution there are many stories, more or less 
 untrustworthy, but forming, no doubt, a tolerably accurate 
 representation of the fact. He was cheerful, even gay, to 
 the end, except when he fell into his religious vein. He 
 declared that he was a Roman Catholic and " would die in 
 that faith," and added, strangely enough, that he was a 
 Jansenist. On the Sunday before his execution he wrote a 
 remarkable letter to the son whose life he had been ready to 
 give away for his own. " You are always present with me," 
 he wrote, " and I offer my prayers to Heaven for you. You 
 see now, by experience, that this world is but vanity of 
 vanities, and that there is no trust to be put in the arm of 
 flesh ; you see that God's providence rules the world, and 
 that no man or family but must yield to it, whether he will 
 or not. Happy is the man that, in all the cross accidents of 
 
198 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 this life submits himself to the will and providence of God 
 with sincere humility and patience. ... I do sincerely thank 
 God for these troubles, because they have brought me from 
 the way of sin that I lived many years in, to a way of 
 repentance and humiliation, and instructed me to follow 
 my dear Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, as I ought to do." 
 From this he goes on to urge his son to repentance and 
 good living, " with the sincere heart of a tender and affec- 
 tionate father," and concludes thus, " So, my dear child, do 
 not be in the least concerned for me, for I bless God I have 
 strong reasons to hope that when it is God's will to call me 
 out of this world, it will be, by His mercy and the suffering 
 of my Saviour, Jesus Christ, to enjoy everlasting happiness 
 in the other world. I wish this may be yours." 
 
 The day before his execution his thoughts reverted to the 
 Highlands that he had, in his fashion, loved. He said that 
 he wished to be buried in the church of Kirk Hill, a few 
 miles from where Castle Downie had stood, and that he had 
 once intended that all the pipers from John o' Groats to 
 Edinburgh should pipe at his funeral, and that, even now, 
 he hoped the coronach would be heard over his grave. 
 " And then," said he, " there will be crying and clapping of 
 hands ; for I am one of the greatest chiefs in the Highlands." 
 He expressed, further, grave concern about the bill then 
 before Parliament for abolishing the jurisdictions of the 
 Highland chiefs. " Do you think I am afraid of an axe ? " 
 he replied to some officious person who took on himself to be 
 " sorry that the morrow was to be such a bad day with him." 
 He was beheaded on Thursday the 9th of April, 1747. A 
 great crowd had assembled to see the execution. Simon 
 remarked on it as he went up the scaffold steps. " God 
 save us ! " says he, " why should there be such a bustle 
 about taking off an old grey head that cannot get up three 
 steps without two men to support it ? " It was about this 
 time, also, that a scaffolding, erected for the convenience 
 of spectators, fell, several persons being killed. " The more 
 damage," said Simon, sardonically, "the better sport." 
 Having mounted the scaffold he went up to the executioner 
 and handed him a purse. " Here, sir, is ten guineas for you ; 
 
LORD LOVAT. i99 
 
 pray do your work well, for if you should cut and hack my 
 shoulders and I should be able to rise again, I should be 
 very angry with you." Then he felt the edge of the axe and 
 remarked that he thought it would do. After that he went 
 over to his coffin and read the inscription thereon : " Simon, 
 Dominus Fraser de Lovat, decollat. April 9, 1747- Aetat. 
 suae, 80." Then, sitting down, he said, doubtless with due 
 solemnity : " Dulce et decorum est pro PatriEl mori," and 
 after a pause added, from Ovid : — 
 
 " Nam genus et proavos, et quae non fecimus ipsi, 
 Vix ea nostra voco." 
 
 What was he thinking of, this old man who had seen and 
 done so many strange things ? His last words of import were 
 addressed to one James Fraser, who was in attendance. 
 *' My dear James," he said, " I am going to heaven, but you 
 must continue to crawl a little longer in this evil world." 
 And with that he made himself over to the executioner. 
 In such manner died Lord Simon of Lovat, crowning his 
 audacious life with a defiant close. Some there were who 
 considered this execution of a man of eighty an uncalled-for 
 and unjustifiable severity. But we cannot wish that it had 
 been otherwise. Simon died as he had lived. And there 
 was no coronach over his grave, for they buried him in the 
 Tower. But there was lamentation in Stratheric ; and long 
 after there survived, as a living monument to Simon in his 
 own country, a man of great age who had let his beard grow 
 uncut from that fatal day onward. 
 
COLONEL FRANCIS CHARTERIS. 
 
 (1675-1732.) 
 
 " II avoit tresmauvaise opinion des femmes et ne les croyoit toutes 
 chastes." — Brantome. 
 
 THE connoisseur in heredity -and predestination must 
 searchi in vain the records of the Charteris stock for 
 any suggestion of the inborn infamy which rendered famous, 
 the last male representative of the line. The family was 
 ancient and honourable, and Captain Charteris, who was 
 captured, tried, and executed by the Covenanters, redeemed 
 its history from insignificance. His brother. Sir John 
 Charteris, was also a decided Royalist, who stood fast by 
 Montrose, and lived to see the two sons borne him by Lady 
 Catherine Crichton grow up to manhood. Of these sons the 
 elder, Thomas, inherited the family estate of Amisfield,^ 
 which passed to his daughters and their descendants, while 
 John married the daughter of Sir Francis Kinloch, and 
 became, in 1676, the father of Francis Charteris. 
 
 Young Francis received the usual liberal education of his- 
 day, and thus enabled Pope to assert that he " scarce could 
 read or write." He was, however, a lad of sharp wits, and 
 on being sent to Belgium as an ensign of a foot regiment,, 
 from which he soon exchanged to become a cornet of dragoons, 
 he was not slow to discover that he possessed certain advan- 
 tages over his brother officers. He exhibited unexampled 
 proficiency at games of chance, and in no long time he had 
 stripped all who would play with him of such money as they 
 possessed, and had lent it them back at one hundred per cent. 
 The losers did not bear their misfortune quietly, and Charteris' s. 
 
CO I. oj<^£:z, 
 
 C^i/f' irn/^/ '/fit /-/J /////// a. ^un^// 7/'e'»j:/i .^ 
 
 m^T\rCJS CO . 
 Ill J'/in// M^// ^ acr^rafzAx/-^ A> ■/^Zifir//Sff.r/?^ — 
 
 '/01/i/^ w^L £//fa "/'UCitfif/ /!'pn/i//-fyn /z /Muy-.>d , 
 I -ffiy r/oi'^L i^a/r///r,:.i /rif/f''i'f 'r'fi^^i-- ~—^- 
 
 COLONEL CHARTERIS. 
 
COLONEL FRANCIS CHARTERIS. 201 
 
 skill at cards and dice was brought to the notice of Marl- 
 borough, who ordered him to be put under arrest and tried 
 by a court-martial, composed of English and Scottish officers 
 in equal number. By this impartial tribunal Charteris was 
 sentenced to return all sums received by him as interest, to 
 be deprived of his commission, and drummed out of the regi- 
 ment with his sword broken. Francis returned to his home 
 in Edinburgh with his military ardour undamped, and induced 
 his father to buy him a commission in the Guards ; but his 
 reputation went before him, and the officers refused to allow 
 his enrolment. He was more fortunate in being received 
 into a marching regiment bound for Flanders, where he 
 succeeded in winning not merely money but the good graces 
 of his seniors, who imprudently entrusted him with three 
 months' pay and a considerable sum of money wherewith to 
 raise recruits in England. Setting out with the best of inten- 
 tions, Charteris found time on board ship hang heavily on 
 his hands, and proposed a game of cards to another officer 
 who was a fellow-passenger. Either his fortune or his skill 
 failed him, for he lost all his own money, and that which did 
 not belong to him followed. Landing at Harwich penniless, 
 he put up at the best inn and ordered a good fire to be 
 lighted in his bedroom. He dined sumptuously in the best 
 of spirits, condescendingly inviting the landlord to share in 
 his potations. In the morning, when Charteris wished to 
 rise, the landlord was loudly summoned to his room and was 
 made acquainted with the fact that his guest's breeches had 
 disappeared in the night. Moreover, in the pockets of the 
 missing garment were sixty guineas and a valuable gold 
 watch. A tailor was promptly summoned, and enabled 
 Charteris to face the world again, and publicly threaten the 
 direst vengeance on the landlord. His house was evidently 
 a den of thieves, and would be henceforth ruined, and he 
 ■must forthwith accompany Charteris before a magistrate. 
 The terrified innkeeper, anxious only to save the reputation 
 of his house, was finally allowed to make good the loss, and 
 Charteris, somewhat mollified by restitution, paid his bill 
 like a gentleman and proceeded on his way. He had burnt 
 his breeches in the night. 
 
202 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 After taking the necessary steps to safeguard his honour 
 by representing in the proper quarter how he had been 
 robbed of the money entrusted to his charge, he once more 
 made his way home to his parents. He would seem to have 
 stayed with them for some time, and it was doubtless at this 
 period of his life that he began to acquire the unsavoury 
 reputation as a foe to honest women, which he maintained 
 throughout his life, and which made him loathed wherever 
 he was known. He was now about two-and-twenty years 
 old, a well-grown man, six feet in height, and proportioned 
 in every way. If he had to pay for his amusements, he took 
 care to make his friends and acquaintances provide him 
 with the necessary means. Whether because his family was 
 held in esteem or because he himself possessed graces of 
 manner not suggested by his recorded history, young 
 Charteris was received into decent society, and allowed to 
 justify his claim of being a cleverer man than the fools he 
 met. When the Duke of Queensberry was in Edinburgh as 
 Commissioner to the Scottish Parliament the Duchess invited 
 Charteris to play cards with her. He could scarcely have 
 designed that his hostess should sit down to the game with 
 a large mirror behind her, which enabled him to see her 
 cards ; but he was not the man to lose the opportunity thus 
 presented to him, and won from her Grace as much as 
 £3,000. On another occasion he was less fortunate. He 
 was invited to play with some gentlemen, who discovered 
 loaded dice in his possession. It was not necessarily the 
 fashion of the time to visit such maladroit persons with 
 social ostracism, and the party determined that a fitting 
 punishment for the cheat would be to strip him forcibly of 
 his clothes and make him stand in the corner with his back 
 towards the company for the remainder of the sitting. The 
 ignominy of the situation weighed less on Charteris than the 
 desire to regain his liberty, and he did not shrink from further 
 shame in behaving in so bestial and unrestrained a manner 
 as to drive his companions from the room, and thus enable 
 himself to get access to his clothing and the door. 
 
 Incidents of this kind must have relieved the monotony of 
 a bachelor's life in Edinburgh, but the time had come for 
 
COLONEL FRANCIS CHARTERIS. 203 
 
 Charteris to settle down, and his father having died and left 
 him a modest inheritance, he married, in 1702, Helen, the 
 daughter of Sir Alexander Swinton, Master of the College of 
 Justice. Any novelty that wedded life may have possessed 
 for him quickly wore off, and he made the discovery that 
 Edinburgh did not offer scope enough to his ambitions. 
 Accordingly he brought his wife up to London and took a 
 house in Poland Street, where he set up an establishment in 
 the first style. Respectability became the order of the day, 
 and though tradesmen's bills for the entertainments lavishly 
 given to friends were heavy, they were punctually paid. If 
 the friends provided the money by losing at cards it was not 
 ostensibly the fault of their host, who spared no pains to 
 make them otherwise happy. But Charteris had not come 
 up to London to live the tame life of a civilian. He still 
 believed in the army as the first among profitable careers 
 for a gentleman, and by the efforts of influential persons 
 whose acquaintance he carefully and successfully cultivated, 
 he became an exempt in the Fourth, or Scotch, Troop of 
 Guards. The position was socially excellent, but did not 
 satisfy Charteris. To appear at Court was a good thing, but 
 there was not necessarily money in it, and money, both as an 
 end and means to his amusement, was the goal of his ambi- 
 tion. Fortune, however, continued to smile on him, and in 
 February, 1710, he was able to expend three thousand guineas 
 on the purchase of a company in the Foot Guards. The step 
 was justified by the opportunities afforded by the position to 
 get back what it had cost to obtain, and Charteris lost no 
 time in seizing them. He kept his company at half strength 
 or less, and drew pay for the whole ; he perfected a system 
 of protecting creditors by the pretence of enlisting them, and 
 he extorted large sums from his soldiers before he would 
 grant them a discharge. Things went smoothly and lucra- 
 tively in this way for nearly a year, when, owing to a disagree- 
 ment with a ruffian whom Charteris employed as assistant in 
 his illegitimate proceedings, attention was called to what was 
 going on. Patrick Hurley, the man in question, took upon 
 himself the office of informer, and by dint of perseverance 
 succeeded in a petition being presented to Parliament. As 
 
204 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 a result a committee, of which Sir Roger Mostyn was 
 chairman, was appointed to inquire into the matter. A large 
 number of witnesses was heard on both sides, and chiefly 
 owing to the bad character of Hurley Charteris had a fair 
 chance of acquittal, but he was indiscreet enough to threaten 
 and beat a sergeant who had given evidence against him. For 
 this offence he was taken into custody by the Sergeant-at- 
 Arms and brought before the House. His humble apology 
 was accepted, and instead of being cashiered as was expected 
 he was let off with the Speaker's reprimand, which he 
 received kneeling. The committee, however, reported 
 strongly against him, and the report being adopted four 
 months later by the House, he was voted incapable of serving 
 further in the army, and was dismissed without liberty to 
 dispose of his commission. 
 
 The untimely end of his military career did not interfere 
 with Charteris's promotion, for, if the story may be believed, 
 he obtained the rank or title of " Colonel " by winning it at 
 cards from a Colonel Holmes. And if he obtained his rank 
 when no longer a soldier, it was then, too, that for the only 
 time in his life, he saw anything like active service. This 
 was in the rebellion of 1715. He was at the time deputy- 
 lieutenant and a magistrate, and happened to be in Lancaster 
 when the Pretender's forces were marching on the town. It 
 being expected that he should take the lead in devising 
 measures of defence, he insisted that the bridge over which 
 the army must pass should be blown up, and only gave way 
 when it was pointed out that the river was fordable at low 
 water. He then ordered the powder to be thrown into a well 
 in the market-place, and led the retreat to Preston. Mean- 
 while a detachment of insurgents had been told off to visit 
 Hornby Castle, which belonged to Charteris, in search of 
 provisions for man and horse. The commanding officers 
 considerately refrained from sending any Scotsmen on this 
 expedition, as being certain to burn all the possessions of 
 their little-loved countryman, and selected Colonel Oxburgh 
 to lead a select party of English troops to the house. They 
 took only a meal for themselves and their beasts, but the 
 steward, a worthy servant of his master, presented a bill for 
 
COLONEL FRANCIS CHARTERIS. 205 
 
 3^3 6s. 8d., and took Oxburgh's note of hand for the amount. 
 When the struggle was over Charteris pressed for payment, 
 but whether successfully or not is not known. He also 
 brought in a bill against the Government for the value of 
 thirty horses which he alleged he had lost during the rising, 
 and was allowed to pick a like number out of those belonging 
 to the vanquished Jacobites. By force of contrast this epi- 
 sode came to be regarded by Charteris as the bright glory of 
 his life, and many years afterwards, when he was lying under 
 sentence of death, the staple argument in his petition for the 
 King's mercy was his behaviour at the Preston rebellion. 
 His enemies said at the time that he had made his arrange- 
 ments to be found fighting for whichever side might get the 
 upper hand. 
 
 But if Charteris was spared much experience of warfare 
 on the grand scale, his private life was not always peaceful. 
 The lesson he had received as a young man at Edinburgh 
 did not altogether reform his methods of play, which fre- 
 quently gave rise to suspicion, and were seldom such as to 
 lead to nothing but quiet enjoyment. Quarrels, in fact, be- 
 tween him and those whose luck or choice it was to be pitted 
 against him, were not infrequent, but it was not Charteris 
 who sought them. He was not the man to endanger his life 
 without particularly good cause, and, though not a coward, 
 knew when valour should give way to discretion. Thus once 
 when he had won a large sum from a young nobleman, who 
 took his revenge by thrashing Charteris and promised to 
 continue doing so till the money was repaid, he refused 
 cither to retaliate or refund, and afterwards explained that 
 he would take twice as much before he would lose the hand- 
 some profit he had made. But another adversary who had 
 nothing to lose and tried similar tactics received a sound 
 beating, and was given to understand by Charteris that 
 though he could take, on occasion, a cuff or a kick from a fool 
 of quality or substance, he was not obliged to do so for every 
 scoundrel. Another quarrel was to have resulted in a duel in 
 Marylebone Fields, and the combatants met on the scene of 
 action. Charteris, however, succeeded in persuading his oppo- 
 nent that it was much wiser not to fight, but that they ought, 
 
2o6 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 for the sake of appearances, to give one another a friendly 
 scratch. The practice of tossing not being in vogue, a long 
 discussion arose as to who should scratch first, and it was 
 only ended by Charteris seizing his sword and inflicting a 
 terrible gash in the other's right arm. He declined on any 
 terms to receive his own scratch, and loudly boasted every- 
 where of having spared his victim's life. Even the friendliest 
 critics of Charteris must have owned that he was not over- 
 scrupulous as to the choice of the weapons he employed. If 
 nothing better offered he did not hesitate to use his teeth, 
 and once he closed a dispute with a miller in the market- 
 place at Edinburgh by biting off the man's nose. An action 
 was brought, and Charteris was cast in £80 damages. 
 Delighted at getting off so cheaply, he proffered £xo to the 
 judges for their liquid refreshment, and was fined an addi- 
 tional £50 for contempt of court. 
 
 It is easy enough to believe that Charteris was well com- 
 pensated for such occasional crosses by the very lucrative 
 nature of the transactions which usually led up to them. 
 His compulsory retirement from the army does not appear 
 to have injured his social position, for he continued to amass 
 riches at private gaming-tables and in the coffee-houses. 
 How he succeeded in finding dupes enough to play with him 
 is a question for wonderment, but find them he did ; and 
 besides being, of necessity, men of substance, they were 
 generally of high rank. His enormous winnings were not 
 squandered, but invested in landed property or stocks. He 
 speculated successfully in the South Sea Company, and the 
 record of appeals to the House of Lords bears testimony to 
 his shrewd observation of the market. When the price of 
 South Sea stock was 320 he sold :^5,ooo worth to the Earl 
 of Hyndford at 410 ; but payment was to be postponed for a 
 year on the security of the Earl's estates. When at the end 
 of the year neither the purchase-money nor the interest was 
 forthcoming, Charteris sued for what was due to him, but a 
 cross-action was brought to void the sale as coming under 
 the statute of usury, and successive courts decided against 
 Charteris. It was not in his nature to have refused to make 
 so advantageous a bargain with a fool, but the evidence 
 
COLONEL FRANCIS CHARTERIS. 207 
 
 showed that he was by no means anxious to sell the stock, 
 and even when the transfer was made he had offered to 
 release Hyndford from the deal. 
 
 Charteris had a predilection for lending money on land, 
 and he is supposed to have followed the practice ascribed to 
 other successful gamesters of lending back the money he 
 had won on the security of estates which also ultimately fell 
 into his hands. He certainly became, within the course 
 of a very few years, a large owner of land. Among his 
 properties in Scotland were Cambo in Fifeshire, an old 
 manor near Musselburgh called Stoney Hill, and Newmaine 
 in Haddingtonshire, which he rechristened Amisfield, and 
 thus justified the designation " Charteris of Amisfield," by 
 which he was always known. Hornby Castle, already 
 mentioned, he bought in 1713 from the Earl of Cardigan 
 for £14,500, and he was also the possessor of two other 
 Lancashire manors — Cockerham and Ormskirk. Some of 
 these estates were no doubt purchased for the sake of the 
 substantial revenues attached to them, but there would be 
 some excuse for the casual critic who should conclude that 
 the main purpose of Charteris's country seats was the various 
 gratification of his inordinate concupiscence. His brilliant 
 and enduring success at play would have been enough to 
 make the name of any other man famous, but the notoriety 
 Charteris acquired as a voluptuary altogether eclipsed the 
 distinction he gained deservedly by his performances at the 
 gaming-table. In the one case he victimised comparatively 
 few ; in the other a whole sex was his prey. His appetite 
 was unbounded, and wherever he went he stopped at 
 nothing which might help to satisfy it. The care he 
 took that, on his arrival at one of his dreary country 
 houses, his bodily comfort should be well looked after was 
 almost worthy of a better cause. Hornby Castle, in 
 particular, under his rule, became a standing scandal and 
 its owner the object of execration by every father and 
 husband in the county, so that when Charteris stood as 
 Parliamentary candidate for Lancaster in 1715 he found 
 it all but impossible to obtain a lodging in the town. Nor 
 while Charteris attended to his own wants did he neglect 
 
2o8 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 any opportunity of making pleasure step side by side with 
 business. The guest at Hornby who allowed himself to be 
 beguiled by cards till it was necessary to pass the night at 
 the castle would find his bedroom already tenanted, and, 
 should he bring an end to the negotiations that ensued by a 
 gift in money, he might learn, by questioning, that only a 
 tenth of the sum would be retained by the recipient, ninety 
 per cent, being claimed by his host. On ■ his frequent 
 journeys to and from his Scottish estates Charteris usually 
 managed to make his name and presence unfavourably 
 remembered in the towns where he put up for the night. 
 On occasion his adventures would lead to a humorous 
 situation, as once when he had met with a trifling accident 
 while passing through Yorkshire and a kind-hearted rector 
 offered him the hospitality of his house till he should have 
 recovered. Charteris accepted the invitation, and lost no 
 time in endeavouring to abuse his position by making love 
 to the womankind. One of the rector's daughters was a 
 lady of the humour Charteris loved to meet with, and, since 
 the rectory afforded no possible place of assignation, it was 
 she who suggested that a room should be hired for the 
 purpose from a tradeswoman of her acquaintance in the 
 town. The lovers found their opportunity on a Whit 
 Sunday, when the world was supposed to be at church, 
 and chance only prevented their enterprise from being kept 
 as secret as they would have wished. It happened that the 
 ground-floor room under that in which they met was used as 
 a carpenter's shop, and some children, playing with matches 
 among the shavings, set fire to the house. The alarm was 
 raised, and Charteris and his companion rushed to the 
 window which, by this time, was the only means of escape. 
 Apparently they had already felt the power of the flames, for 
 when they leaped out on the mattresses spread to receive 
 them it was seen by the delighted crowd that they wore but 
 a single linen garment apiece. Charteris got well out of his 
 escapade, for the parson, who at first was all for bringing 
 an action against him, was finally persuaded to devote his 
 attention to taking better care of his other daughters. 
 It is possible that Charteris may have respected the. 
 
COLONEL FRANCIS CHARTERIS. 209 
 
 sanctity of his home, but the precincts of such sanctity were 
 narrow, for while he lived in Poland Street he frequented an 
 establishment in Golden Square where vice and he were 
 equally at home. History, perhaps happily, is almost silent 
 as to his purely domestic life. Mrs. Charteris was a good 
 and affectionate woman, and to hope that she did not suffer 
 would be mere audacity. Their only child was a daughter, 
 Janet, who, in October, 1720, was married, with the assist- 
 ance of a magnificent dowry, to the Earl of Wemyss. It 
 appears probable that after the marriage Mrs. Charteris 
 spent much of her time with her daughter, and for the rest 
 lived in Scotland with her people. Charteris took full 
 advantage of his liberty, and exchanged the house in Poland 
 Street for another in George Street, Hanover Square, 
 which soon acquired the worst possible reputation. He 
 employed procuresses to watch systematically the arrivals 
 of waggons from the provinces, and any likely-looking girl 
 who alighted was at once engaged as domestic servant to 
 Charteris.^ A very few days sufficed to learn the kind of 
 duties expected from her, and unless specially favoured the 
 girl was, after seduction, turned loose upon the town. One 
 young woman of the kind, Sarah Wilkins by name, was 
 allowed to become the mother of three of his children. 
 Extraordinary stories were current of the scenes which took 
 place at the house in George Street — of damsels forced into 
 compliance by a pistol at the head, of orgies that might have 
 made envious Tiberius — and their dissemination bred an active 
 dislike of the Colonel among the classes from whose ranks 
 the frequent vacancies in his establishment were filled. On 
 one occasion this unsympathetic feeling nearly led to dis- 
 aster. A woman spread a rumour that her sister was being 
 detained against her will, and at her eager bidding a furious 
 mob soon surrounded the house clamouring for Charteris's 
 blood and the girl's release. They broke all the windows 
 and the leaders got through the doors ; but luck was in the 
 Colonel's way, for the alleged prisoner declared herself 
 
 • The notorious " Mother Needham," who is depicted interviewing 
 Kate Hackabout on her arrival in London, in the first plate of the 
 " Harlot's Progress," is said to have been thus employed by Charteris. 
 
 15 
 
2IO TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 perfectly happy, and declined to be removed on any terms. 
 The virtuous populace had no choice but to take itself off 
 discomfited. Such moral triumphs, however, were of rare 
 occurrence, and it more often happened that Charteris found 
 he had the law to reckon with. Not once nor twice only did 
 he have to rely on the power of his purse and the kindly 
 offices of a magistrate to hush up a budding scandal. Some- 
 times the matter went a step further, as in the case of Sarah 
 Selleto, who refused to be contented with anything less than 
 security for the maintenance of the child she expected to 
 bear. Even his purse proved useless to pay for a dangerous 
 freak he indulged in while visiting Edinburgh in 1721. He 
 was walking along a country lane when he was seized with 
 a passing fancy for an honest housewife whom he overtook. 
 The good woman suddenly found herself confronted by a 
 dilemma presenting the choice of death or dishonour, and 
 was not ready to die. She told her husband, and a warrant 
 for Charteris's apprehension was issued, but he had crossed 
 the border before it could be executed. The law took its 
 course in his absence, and, despite the eloquence of Duncan 
 Forbes, of Culloden, who defended him, he was convicted 
 of rape and condemned to death. After some little anxiety 
 Charteris obtained a pardon from the King and returned to 
 Scotland to surrender to the court and flourish the precious 
 document from the dock. 
 
 When life is made up of excitement and excess it is not 
 surprising if the strongest constitutions feel the strain. 
 Charteris was no more than human, and his manner of 
 existence occasionally told upon his health. At one time 
 his bodily vigour was so much reduced that it seemed as 
 if death might be not far off, and instantly the mind of 
 Charteris was filled with charitable thoughts. He proposed 
 to erect a charity school for his natural children, who were 
 to be convened by advertisement, and to build twenty-four 
 almshouses for the accommodation of poor women to whose 
 progress in life his conduct had proved detrimental. The 
 notion so pleased its author that he had the necessary esti- 
 mates prepared, and employed an architect to execute the 
 plans, but meanwhile his health returned, and Charteris's 
 
COLONEL FRANCIS CHARTERIS. 2ii,)i 
 
 i; 
 
 creditable atonement reached no nearer perfection than any 
 other good intention. '■:'- 
 
 It would be agreeable to believe that at this period of his life 
 Charteris was attracted to the society of men more spiritual 
 than himself. There is some foundation for such belief in 
 an account that was published of a dinner given by Charteris 
 in George Street to the notorious bachelor in divinity, 
 Thomas Woolston. Charteris had requested his guest to 
 bring with him his " Discourses on the Miracles," and was 
 so entertained by the reading and his share of the seven 
 bottles of port consumed between them, that he desired 
 nothing so much as to suitably reward the learned divine. 
 Woolston could not becomingly accept the Colonel's bounti- 
 ful offer to put a harem at his disposal, but Charteris promised 
 to make his new friend his private chaplain when a vacancy 
 should occur. When Charteris afterwards fell into disgrace, 
 Woolston felt called upon to deny, by advertisements, that 
 this interview had taken place, but it must be remembered 
 that Woolston also denied the miracles. 
 
 Charteris resumed his old habits as soon as he was able, 
 fleecing his dupes when occasion offered, and for the rest 
 amusing himself with such unwary females as he could 
 entrap into his house. This particular diversion became 
 more difficult as time went on ; so notorious had he become 
 that his quarry had grown very shy, and its successful 
 pursuit required all the patieilce and subterfuge of the wild- 
 duck hunter. That Charteris was equal to his self-imposed 
 task cannot be reasonably doubted, but the state of his 
 health warned him that unceasing activity was not 
 advisable, and on the advice of his doctor he determined 
 to try the fashionable cure at Aix-la-Chapelle. The news 
 of his arrival at the watering-place created an immense 
 sensation, and crowds of visitors flocked in to see, in the 
 flesh, the great English gamester and rake. Charteris 
 was not at all indisposed to exhibit his prowess in the 
 first of these characters, and some too curious Continental 
 players found to their cost that his reputation for playing 
 to win was exceedingly well founded. It was said that 
 he won enough to increase his income by £i,ooo a year. 
 
213 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 and when there was no money to be won he did not 
 disdain to be paid in kind, taking on one occasion a 
 berlin with a team of Flanders mares which he shipped to 
 England. He was less prudent in making a wager, or 
 agreement, with Lord Dalrymple that the survivor should 
 receive from the other ;f i,ooo a year. Another venture was 
 equally and more immediately unsuccessful. He drew a 
 bill for £5,000 on Alderman Child, of London, and, on his 
 return, having, it is to be supposed, forgotten about it, 
 repudiated all knowledge of it, and declared the signature 
 a forgery. But the Alderman was made of sterner stuff than 
 Charteris had imagined, and, disregarding the Colonel's 
 bounce, caused him to be arrested, and before the case 
 came on for hearing obtained his money. 
 
 It would have been well for Charteris had not the yearning 
 for his old pursuits induced him to leave the pleasant and pro- 
 fitable society at Aix for his home in London. He had scarcely 
 settled down again in George Street when a girl named Ann 
 Bond entered his service. She had been procured by one of 
 his agents who, knowing by experience that the most aban- 
 doned of women showed fright at the name of Charteris, 
 had offered to find her a place at Colonel Harvey's. Ann 
 Bond's master at once began to show her attention, but she 
 modestly rejected all his advances, backed up though they 
 were with promises of riches. After three days' resistance 
 the girl became aware of the Colonel's identity, and applied 
 to the housekeeper for leave to go away, which was naturally 
 refused, while strict orders were given to the other servants 
 to prevent her escape. The next morning, November 10, 
 1729, Charteris sent for her, and without more ado effected 
 his purpose in a somewhat indelicate manner. Ann was 
 then turned out of the house on the pretence of having stolen 
 a purse of guineas, and in her distress informed a friend of 
 what had happened. On the advice of this person she ex- 
 hibited articles against Charteris for an assault with intent 
 to ravish, and a warrant was issued. With customary fore- 
 thought Charteris had withdrawn to Brussels, and there he 
 sought the advice of his friends as to the course he should 
 pursue. The general opinion was that the case was one for 
 
COLONEL FRANCIS CHARTERIS. 213 
 
 a settlement, but on the representation that if this were done 
 Charteris would expose himself to continual blackmail, he 
 resolved to return and stand his trial. Meanwhile the grand 
 jury considered the matter, and at the instigation of one 
 of their number who irrelevantly urged that Charteris had 
 victimised his daughter, they found that the attempt 
 mentioned in the indictment had been an accomplished fact, 
 and brought in their bill accordingly. 
 
 When, therefore, on Thursday, February 26, 1730, Colonel 
 Charteris surrendered at the Old Bailey, it was for rape he 
 was on his trial. The prosecution told a straightforward 
 tale, but the examination and cross-examination of the 
 string of witnesses who appeared to give evidence to the 
 discredit of Ann Bond, took some hours. Their efforts, 
 however, were fruitless, for the jury brought in a verdict of 
 guilty, and this, according to the harsh law of the period, 
 could only lead to one sentence. He was taken to New- 
 gate, and brought out on the Saturday evening to hear 
 sentence of death passed on him in company with nine 
 malefactors. 
 
 The excitement which had been aroused in London, and 
 indeed throughout the country, at the news of the trial was 
 trebled at the result. It was well kept up by the story of 
 the siege of the Colonel's house and its brave defence by his 
 faithful retinue when the sheriff came to seize the forfeited 
 goods of the convicted felon. Everybody had his own scan- 
 dalous tale about the unfortunate man, and the hawkers 
 found a ready sale for inaccurate and exaggerated pamphlets 
 which purported to tell the history of his life. It is to this 
 period that we owe what is certainly the best, and probably 
 the only authentic, portrait of Charteris. It is a good piece 
 of mezzotinting, and represents a fine, though not a hand- 
 some, man standing in the dock of the Old Bailey with his 
 thumbs tied. The face is powerful and intelligent, and its 
 best feature, the nose, is well formed and notably prominent ; 
 but the eager, protruding eyes and thick, sensual lips are not 
 beautiful. The portrait, the author of which is not known, 
 is labelled " Colonel Francisco," and beneath it are engraved 
 these lines : — 
 
214 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 " Blood ! must a Colonel with a Lord's estate 
 Be thus obnoxious to a scoundrel's fate ? 
 Brought to the bar and sentenc'd from the bench 
 For only ravishing a country wench ? 
 Shall Gentlemen receive no more respect ? 
 Shall their diversions thus by laws be check'd ? 
 Shall they b' accountable to saucy juries, — 
 For this or t' other pleasure? H^ II and Furies t 
 What man thro' villainy would run a course 
 And ruin families without remorse 
 To heap up riches — if when all is done 
 An ignominious death he cannot shun ? " 
 
 While the town was thus amusing itself at Charteris's 
 expense, he was lying in irons in Newgate, sick in body and 
 heart, and almost without hope. It was not much in his 
 favour that he had already once received a pardon for a 
 similar offence, and still less so that a new King who did 
 not know Charteris, and could not make allowance for his 
 weakness, was on the throne. Yet his friends were hard at 
 work, doing all that was possible to obtain his pardon, and it 
 bears testimony to the good points in his character, that 
 among these friends were such men as the Duke of Argyll, 
 and James Bruce, both of whom had been in the Horse 
 Guards when Charteris was an exempt in the same regiment, 
 and Robert Walpole. His son-in-law, the Earl of Wemyss, 
 took lodgings in Ludgate Hill, so as to be near him, and 
 Mrs. Charteris, who had come up post haste from Edinburgh, 
 found rooms in Warwick Lane hard by. During the whole 
 time of his imprisonment Charteris was very ill, and at the 
 beginning of April the doctors could hold out but small hope 
 of his recovery, so painful was the asthma and so high the 
 fever. But his cure was being effected in the chamber of the 
 Privy Council to whom his case had been referred. Duncan 
 Forbes, of Culloden, who rented a house near Edinburgh 
 from Charteris, came to London to plead for him, and 
 pleaded so successfully that the Council unanimously advised 
 his pardon, which the King therefore granted. The good 
 news found the Colonel still in bed, but he so soon recovered 
 that the following day he was able to leave the gaol on bail 
 
COLONEL FRANCIS CHARTERIS. 215 
 
 to appear at the next sessions to plead his pardon. He was 
 further required to settle a sum of eight hundred pounds on 
 the girl who brought him into the undignified position he 
 had recently occupied. 
 
 Once more a free man Charteris joined his wife at her 
 lodgings, and lost no time in sending her back to Scotland. 
 He then thought fit to retire, and caused it to be believed that 
 he had gone to Bath for his health ; but he went no further 
 than Kensington, where he took rooms at the Gravel Pits. 
 His misfortunes were not yet at an end, though it was only 
 mischance that revealed his presence in the suburbs. On the 
 Saturday night following his discharge from prison Charteris, 
 rejoicing in his recovered health and freedom, called a coach 
 and started with two friends to drive to Chelsea. On the 
 road some loafers recognised the Colonel, and seeing that 
 two women were his companions stopped the coach ; a 
 crowd collected, and, hauling Charteris out, beat him most 
 barbarously. This practical evidence of the unpopularity 
 of his hardly-earned pardon seems to have induced Charteris 
 to give up London in disgust. He had not the heart to seek 
 punishment for those who had inhumanly assaulted him, but 
 sorrowfully made his arrangements for retreating to his 
 country seats. 
 
 For the next eighteen months little is heard of him. In 
 February, 1732, he was at Hornby Castle, and becoming 
 very ill he insisted on being removed to Stoney Hill. Edin- 
 burgh was nearly reached when it was thought necessary 
 to send for Dr. Clark, who thus wrote to Duncan Forbes, 
 under date February 22nd : — 
 
 " But the terriblest patient I had in my life is your 
 monster of a landlord. I was obliged to go sixteen miles out 
 of town to meet him on his way from Hornby. I lived two 
 days in hell on earth, and conveyed him with much difficulty 
 to Stoney Hill, dying exactly as he lived, but swearing little 
 or not at all. He can neither sleep nor eat — seems to be 
 dying of decay of nature, his blood being exhausted. ... As 
 for his own honesty, the only sign he has shown of it was 
 one day when he thought he was going off, he ordered, with 
 a great roar, that all his just debts should be paid." 
 
2i6 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 While he thus lay dying at Stoney Hill Charteris was 
 lovingly tended by his wife and daughter. He pondered 
 over the unknown future awaiting him, and repeatedly 
 offered to give ^30,000 to anybody who would assure him 
 there was no such place as hell. The money was not 
 earned though Mr. Gumming, the minister, was unceasing 
 in ministrations of comfort. So attentive was he that 
 Charteris, who in death as in life liked to have money's 
 worth, became anxious as to the amount of the honorarium 
 that would be expected, and put the question to his 
 daughter. Lady Wemyss, who by reputation inherited the 
 " nearness " of her father, replied that it was unusual to 
 give anything on such occasions. " Well, then," said 
 Charteris, " let us have another flourish from him," alluding 
 to the good man's prayers. The end came on a night when 
 a terrific storm raged, and in it, as the people of the 
 neighbourhood assured themselves, the Colonel's soul 
 passed to the place from which his wealth could not save 
 him. These same good people were not willing that more 
 respect should be paid to Charteris's helpless body than they 
 expected would be dealt out to his helpless soul. When the 
 funeral procession started from Stoney Hill they were lining 
 the avenue leading to the house, and pelted the hearse as it 
 passed with filth and garbage. Their unseemly demonstra- 
 tions were continued by the open vault in the church of 
 Greyfriars in Edinburgh, where an attempt was made to 
 tear the body from the coffin. When at last it was safely 
 lowered the carcases of dead dogs and cats were flung in the 
 tomb to bear it company. 
 
 The disposition of Charteris's wealth had been determined 
 ay a settlement dated June 5, 1730, under which his estate 
 was left to Francis, the second son of his daughter and the 
 Earl of Wemyss, subject to the proviso that he and his heirs 
 should take the name of Charteris. Special legacies con- 
 firmed his daughter's marriage settlement, gave 3^1,000 and 
 the Hfe-rent of a house worth £100 a year to his advocate, 
 Duncan Forbes ; ^^i.ooo to Lord Milton ; ^500 to an aunt ; 
 a pair of pistols to the Duke of Argyll, and his horses, which 
 were numerous and valuable, to Robert Walpole. At the 
 
COLONEL FRANCIS CHARTERIS. 217 
 
 time the will was made Charteris was anxious to show his 
 gratitude to those who helped him out of the awkward fix in 
 which his experience of Ann Bond had placed him, and to 
 this reason must be attributed his omission to mention the 
 unfortunate women and children whom he had earlier in- 
 tended to benefit. 
 
 Charteris's character was of no complex nature, and is 
 best seen in the story of his life. His contemporaries were 
 inclined to judge him harshly, and Pope, in particular, could 
 forego no opportunity of gibbeting him in verse. Swift, 
 though he deplored the man's vices, did not regard him as 
 exceptional, and was able to inform Pope that in Dublin, in 
 1736, there was a number of " old villains and monsters, 
 four-fifths of whom are more wicked and stupid than 
 Chartris." Hogarth, according to Warton, introduced ' 
 Charteris into the first plate of the " Harlot's Progress," but 
 in making this statement the good doctor possibly showed 
 himself overcredulous. The severest critic of all was found 
 in Arbuthnot, who composed and published the celebrated 
 epitaph which spares not one of Charteris's foibles. It runs 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Here continueth to rot the body of 
 Colonel Don Francisco ; 
 Who with an inflexible constancy. 
 And inimitable uniformity of life. 
 Persisted in spite of age and infirmity 
 In the practice of every human vice, 
 Excepting prodigality and hypocrisy; 
 His insatiable avarice 
 Exempting him from the first. 
 And his matchless impudence 
 
 From the second. 
 Nor was he more singular 
 In that undeviating viciousness of life 
 Than successful in accumulating wealth ; 
 Having 
 Without trust of public money, bribe. 
 Work, service, trade or profession. 
 Acquired or rather created 
 A ministerial estate. 
 
2i8 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Among the singularities of his hfe and fortune 
 Be it likewise commemorated 
 That he was the only person in his time 
 Who would cheat without the mask of honesty ; 
 
 Who would retain his primeval meanness 
 After being possessed of 10,000 pounds a year : 
 And who having done, every day of his life, 
 Something worthy of a gibbet. 
 Was once condemned to one 
 For what he could not do.^ 
 Think not, indignant reader, 
 His hfe useless to mankind ; 
 Providence 
 Favoured or rather connived at 
 His execrable designs, 
 That he might remain 
 To this and future ages 
 A conspicuous proof and example 
 
 Of how small estimation 
 Exorbitant wealth is held in the sight 
 Of the Almighty, 
 By his bestowing it on 
 The most unworthy 
 Of all the descendants 
 Of Adam." 
 
 Charteris's career almost justified itself in giving occasion 
 for this fine piece of writing, which does not exaggerate the 
 generally received opinion of its subject. But it is possible 
 that in sonxe cases the public, which so keenly interested 
 itself in the doings of the unhappy man, exaggerated their 
 wickedness. It were kinder to take leave of him here with 
 the charitable and truthful account given of him by courtly 
 Sir Robert Douglas : " He was a man of good parts and 
 great sagacity, and by his particular skill and knowledge of 
 men and manners of the time he lived in, acquired a vast 
 estate." 
 
 ' There is no other evidence for this triple slur on the capacity of 
 Charteris, the veracity of Ann Bond and the sagacity of the grand 
 jury. 
 
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 JONATHAN WILD. 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 
 
 (1682-1725.) 
 
 " I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan." 
 
 2 Sam. i. 26. 
 
 HAD Henry Fielding, novelist and police magistrate 
 elected to write an authentic history of Jonathan 
 Wild, instead of merely using his name as a peg on which 
 to hang a satire, the literature of biography would have 
 stood enriched by an addition which can now be never 
 made. The novelist's pen, assisted by the magistrate's 
 personal knowledge of the curiously loose system of working 
 the harsh criminal law of his time, might have presented a 
 living portrait of the famous Thief-taker, for which the 
 right materials are now in a great measure wanting. Wild 
 was not of those whose place in history can only be deter- 
 mined after the lapse of many years, and a dispassioned 
 writer, nearer his own day, could at once have taken his 
 measure and put on record a veracious chronicle of his 
 doings and misdoings. It is true that when his career came 
 to its untimely end biographers were to be found in plenty, 
 but they were of the lightning kind, whose works were to 
 be sold for twopence or sixpence in the streets, the matter 
 being furnished according to the price. It was their plea- 
 sant duty to supply a want felt by the public, and since, 
 as sometimes happens, gossip and invention best served to 
 tickle the popular fancy, there was no particular need to 
 spend time in research. The want, in fact, was so adequately 
 supplied that as years went on and interest was still sus- 
 tained, the name of Jonathan Wild became as that of a very 
 
220 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Theseus and was identified with any sort of adventure, 
 imaginary or otherwise, which might be reckoned on to 
 make the hair stand on end. In later days the authors who 
 labour to edify youth have seized upon Jonathan as a hero 
 for their inexpensive romances, and with all the resources 
 of fiction and of their art at hand have made him the centre- 
 piece of well-nigh every deed of darkness it may have been 
 convenient or salutary to depict. They have done no great 
 wrong to the man's memory, but the embellishments of 
 their narratives are calculated to discount any sober-sided 
 sketch of the true man or such fragments of him as have 
 been preserved. Yet there is no need to apologise for 
 Jonathan Wild as a subject for the moralist who would point 
 the right way of life by exemplifying the evil that is to be 
 avoided. Enough of him is known to make it certain that 
 there was little enough of what can be reckoned good in 
 him. 
 
 He was born at Wolverhampton about 1682, and, in the 
 absence of evidence to the contrary, it is fair to assume that 
 his parentage was respectable. His father, indeed, was a 
 peruke-maker whose circumstances were, perhaps, not over- 
 prosperous, for instead of bringing up his eldest son 
 Jonathan to his own trade, he apprenticed him to a buckle- 
 maker. His time served, Jonathan set up as a journeyman 
 in his native town, and soon found himself in a position to 
 marry a wife and beget a son. Satiated for the moment with 
 this mere taste of the fruit of wedded life he resolved to visit 
 London, and, since the expedition was to be of a business 
 character, he naturally elected to go alone. The story of 
 his adventure with a lady doctor on the road is more than 
 probably untrue. According to this legend, Jonathan pos- 
 sessed the power of dislocating his hip at will, and per- 
 formed the feat in order to provoke the charity of a lady who 
 was passing him in a carriage. The lady took pity on the 
 lame fellow, and inviting him into her conveyance allowed 
 him to accompany her as far as Warwick. Jonathan dis- 
 covered the profession of his benefactress and disclosed his 
 imposition, with a suggestion how his trick might be turned 
 to their mutual advantage. He was in consequence provided 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 221 
 
 with the funds necessary to procure him the best hotel 
 accommodation and surgical advice afforded by the town. 
 The surgeons' efforts to restore his leg to the proper position 
 were all unavailing, but the lady, happening to hear of the 
 case, applied an ointment which seemed to effect a miracu- 
 lously speedy cure. The faculty admitted a superior force, 
 and the lame, halt, and blind of Warwick and the neighbour- 
 hood hurried as quickly as they might to procure boxes of 
 the remedy. The same game was played in the chief towns 
 on the road with the same success until London was 
 reached. Whether the tale be true or not the result was 
 the same, for Jonathan arrived in London and found employ- 
 ment at his trade. But the remuneration to be gained by 
 buckle-making was insufficient to meet the expenses of 
 town life, and before Jonathan had time to achieve fame 
 or fortune by his proficiency he was arrested for debt and 
 placed in the Wood Street Compter. He remained there 
 four years, and was perforce thrown into the society of many 
 persons of both sexes whose life had been less respectable 
 than his own. Among them was a woman named Mary 
 Milliner, who had been unfavourably known as a night- 
 walker and pickpocket, and under her instruction especially 
 the young countryman was educated in some of the possi- 
 bilities of life. In the absence of direct testimony it is 
 impossible either to confirm or deny the harsh and gratuitous 
 inference of Mr. William Jackson, that, " considering the 
 character of the parties, there will appear but little reason 
 to suppose that they adhered to the strict rules of chastity." 
 The pair seem to have managed to leave the prison 
 together and to have found the means to start a little 
 establishment in Lewkenor's Lane, of the kind for which 
 that street had been noted since the Roundheads first 
 sneaked into its retirement to practise the vices they more 
 openly denounced. The house prospered, and enough 
 capital was put by to enable' Wild and his partner to 
 abandon their dirty traffic and engage in another business, 
 which in these days would be considered scarcely more 
 reputable. They took a little house in Cock Alley, oppo- 
 site Cripplegate Church, and opened it as a public-house. 
 
222 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Patronage was assured by Mary Milliner's extensive ac- 
 quaintance with the thieves of London, among whom she 
 had been popular, both as one of themselves and the instru- 
 ment of their pleasure, and no unworthy feeling of jealousy 
 barred the admission of Jonathan to the circle. His long 
 stay in prison had enabled him to know, at least by sight, a 
 large number of thieves, and since fate still threw him into 
 their society he was content to stay there, though with the 
 ever-present idea of turning the connection to his own 
 advantage. The popularity of the little house among its 
 particular clientele could not fail to attract the notice of 
 Charles Hitchen, who filled the office of City Marshal — 
 from which he was, however, at this time suspended for 
 misconduct. He was still allowed to play the part of 
 constable, and there was no figure better known in the 
 lowest haunts of London or to its lowest characters than 
 the huge, ungainly form of the marshal, clad in a silver- 
 buttoned coat, wearing a knotted wig, and with a heavy 
 sword jangling at his side. It were hardly rash to assert of 
 Hitchen that, taken all in all, no more infamous scoundrel 
 ever trod the earth. His allotted duties were to assist in 
 keeping the peace of London, to arrest malefactors, to 
 inform against the proprietors of houses where thieves and 
 other bad characters congregated, and to bring offenders 
 against the law within reach of its arm. These duties he 
 well and faithfully carried out when it suited his purpose — 
 when, that is, he could gratify his spite, avenge an injury to 
 his self-esteem, or make more by earning a reward offered 
 for a capture than he could extort from the wretched being 
 for allowing him to go free a while longer. But a far easier 
 and more profitable way of carrying on his business lay at 
 his hand in the opportunities it afforded him of levying 
 blackmail, and of these he availed himself to the fullest 
 extent. Among the horde of evil-doers who infested the 
 City of London there were but few — were they mere thieves, 
 pickpockets, footpads, housebreakers, shoplifters, highway- 
 men, disorderly women, or keepers of houses of ill-fame 
 — that were not known personally to Hitchen, and very 
 small was the proportion of them who did not have to pay 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 2^3 
 
 him handsomely for immunity. But the work of following 
 up even a part of the multifarious crimes that daily disgraced 
 London, and of getting a fair share of booty or hush-money 
 was onerous for one man who, though he had underlings at 
 his disposal, had none among them in whom he could place 
 great confidence. It occurred to Hitchen that such a person 
 might be found in Wild, who was well fitted for the post by 
 reason of his already extensive acquaintance with habitual 
 law-breakers. He accordingly offered Wild the post of 
 assistant, and the proposal being accepted a partnership 
 was commenced. We have Wild's account of the evening 
 on which he was initiated into his duties. The two worthies 
 met at Temple Bar " and called in at several brandy-shops 
 and ale-houses between that and Fleet Ditch ; some of the 
 masters of these houses complimented the marshal with 
 punch, others with brandy, and some presented hinj with 
 fine ale, offering their service to their worthy protector." 
 The replies made to these people were curt and dignified ; 
 they were told that all the service required of them was to 
 give immediate information of the whereabouts of any stolen 
 property that had come into the possession of their clients. 
 Passing on, they came to a house frequented by women of 
 the town, and those off duty were lectured by the marshal 
 on the impropriety of handing over to anybody but himself 
 pocket-books and other trifles which they might abstract 
 from gentlemen who sought their society. They were given 
 to understand that Jonathan was his man, and, unless all 
 property was delivered up to one or other of them, every lady 
 present might count on being sent to Bridewell. A little 
 further the pair came suddenly on three well-known pick- 
 pockets, who were called upon to explain why they did not 
 bow down before their lord, and were ordered to give an 
 account of themselves and of their plan of campaign for the 
 night. They, too, were introduced to the new assistant, 
 and, after promising to give up their booty to either master 
 or man, were allowed to go — " making a low congee and 
 promising obedience." In such congenial pursuits the 
 evening passed away, and Jonathan was enabled to form 
 some idea of his new friend's importance. He took a liking 
 
224 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 for the occupation, and, armed with a staff as a token of 
 authority, went on nightly rambles through the City with 
 Kitchen. They bullied unfortunate women to enforce the 
 giving up of stolen property ; they swindled honest men 
 who appealed to them for assistance, and made the lives 
 of thieves burdensome by their threats of the Compter if 
 greater returns were not given. If occasion offered, they 
 disdained no chance of extorting money. Thus on one of 
 their walks they saw a clergyman standing against a wall 
 with his back towards them, and a woman happening to 
 pass by at the moment, they seized both, and charged the 
 priest with assault. In vain the unfortunate man protested 
 his innocence; he must either go to gaol for the night or 
 give security for his appearance in the morning. It was 
 only the fortunate appearance on the scene of some friends 
 of the clergyman who had sense enough to give the expected 
 fee to the marshal, that prevented the ruin of the good man 
 and the record of his captors being stained with one more 
 case of perjury. At another time they might see the wife of 
 some honest citizen walking home unattended, and would 
 seize her as a lewd woman. She would be forced to accom- 
 pany the " constables " to a tavern, where a hot supper and 
 the best wines would be ordered for the gentlemen while 
 the lady was directed to sit apart, as being vermin unfit 
 for the society of decent people. When the two had well 
 drunk and spent some social hours, their victim — if she had 
 behaved well — was allowed to pay the reckoning, to empty 
 her purse and depart. Such incidents as those narrated are 
 but the mildest examples of the shocking adventures which 
 Hitchen and Wild sought out for themselves in their pursuit 
 of gain and power over sinners. Many of their proceedings 
 were merely low, brutal, and sordid, but others, besides 
 sharing these qualities, were of a kind that cannot be related 
 without the graphic fearlessness of an ancient Greek or 
 Roman historian. 
 
 Wild, meanwhile, was not neglecting to turn the know- 
 ledge gained by his apprenticeship to his own account. 
 His connection with the thieving brotherhood daily in- 
 creased, and new acquaintances could not do less than 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 225 
 
 patronise the house kept by the marshal's man. There 
 the talk would be of daring exploits done and booty won ; 
 but after mutual congratulations were over there generally 
 remained the question of dealing in a profitable manner with 
 the spoils. Had Wild been scrupulously honest he would 
 no doubt have insisted on all property, the disposal of 
 which was thus discussed in his presence, being handed 
 over to Hitchen ; but he may have felt that there would be 
 some impropriety as well as harm done to his business if he 
 carried home with him the quasi-official duties he combined 
 with the marshal. Whatever his motive, it was in his 
 private capacity that he listened to the conversations of his 
 guests, and if it was not pure good nature that led him to 
 suggest that the stolen goods might with advantage be 
 handed over to him, he at any rate relieved the thieves from 
 a difficulty which continually weighed on them. Wild 
 undertook to sell, on the best terms possible, any goods 
 entrusted to him, and to hand the proceeds — less a commis- 
 sion, for his own trouble — to the thief. Beginning in a small 
 way, he did so well at his business that before very long he 
 had at his disposal the most valuable part of the stolen 
 property of London. He, in fact, beat Hitchen at his own 
 game, and the two friends became mortal foes : Wild always 
 having the upper hand by reason of the soiled character 
 borne by the other, and the further disgraces in which he 
 embroiled himself. Wild, however, for his own purposes, 
 maintained his official character, and kept himself before 
 the notice of the magistrates by haling before them from 
 time to time, when it suited him, some criminal or enemy. 
 He prospered exceedingly, for not only was his business 
 large but he had absolute control of it ; if he said he had 
 sold a given article for so much there was none to disprove 
 his word, and the pickpocket or burglar had to be perforce 
 content with what Jonathan chose to give him, knowing 
 full well, moreover, as he did, that to cast any doubts on 
 mine host's straightness of dealing was as much as his 
 freedom or perhaps his life was worth. But if business 
 conducted on these lines went well it could not fail to go 
 better when Wild put into practice an idea which would 
 
 16 
 
226 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 naturally present itself to a man of his commercial instincts. 
 Where was the use of selling goods to some trader who 
 bought them only to re-sell at a profit when, by direct 
 dealing, that extra profit, and perhaps more, might be 
 pocketed by Jonathan himself? Accordingly he began an 
 open traffic in stolen goods, and in the hope that the original 
 owner of any particular piece of property might give more 
 for it than anybody else, he would obtain the owner's name 
 from the thief, and politely let him know that something 
 which belonged to him had found its way to the house in 
 Cock Alley, and would be restored for a consideration. 
 Open dealing of this kind gave a great impetus to thieving, 
 and, as Wild found numerous imitators on a smaller scale 
 in other parts of London, it quickly became a scandal which 
 attracted the attention of the Legislature. The result was 
 an Act of Parliament putting the receiver on more or less 
 the same level as the thief, and rendering him liable, on 
 conviction, to transportation for fourteen years. 
 
 Directly the purport of this Act was reahsed by those im- 
 mediately concerned, the profession, not only of receiving 
 but of thieving also, for the moment staggered. For a brief 
 space of time it seemed as if the law by one happy stroke 
 had brought security to property. So long as receiving had 
 remained a lawful practice it had not been necessary for 
 thieves to trouble themselves greatly about getting rid of 
 their gains, and the receivers, having had no occasion to 
 pursue their calling otherwise than openly, were now 
 marked men. There remained only the pawnbrokers for the 
 disposal of such goods as could not be melted down, and 
 the wretched prices offered by them were not good enough 
 to compensate for the risk run in robbery. The thieves 
 of London lost courage, and starvation or honesty seemed to 
 stare them in the face ; but Jonathan Wild, with fertile mind, 
 came to the rescue. On the coming into force of the Act 
 he had been sent for, it was said, by the Recorder, to whom 
 he was known both as a pohce witness and a receiver, and 
 was strongly advised by him to give up his business and 
 friendly relation with thieves, and to confine his energies 
 to detecting rogues and earning the rewards offered for their 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 227 
 
 discovery. But Wild was not born to settle down to a hap- 
 hazard and poverty-stricken, if respectable, existence. He 
 knew that in the new conditions brought about by the 
 displacement of any great industry was the opportunity 
 for the man of invention and resource. The little men in 
 the receiving line might go to ruin, as doubtless most of 
 them did, but Wild was resolved to make use of the altera- 
 tion in the law as a stepping-stone to higher things. It 
 occurred to him that he might still act as intermediary 
 between the thieves and their victims without actually 
 handling the goods stolen. He proposed his plan to his 
 leading supporters among the thieves, who were only too. 
 glad to welcome any suggestion which might help them to 
 carry on their business profitably, and he forthwith com- 
 menced to busy himself with the organisation of his system. 
 In its main lines this system was that all stolen property 
 should be deposited in certain places little likely to be 
 suspected. Wild was to be informed of each several 
 robbery, with such particulars as could be supplied of the 
 person robbed ; and he was then to open up communications 
 with the owner and, if possible, bargain with him for the 
 return of his property. The plan answered admirably. 
 Soon after he had received information of a theft Wild would 
 visit or write to his prey, saying he had chanced to hear 
 of his misfortune and had also happened to hear of a similar 
 article to that which had been stolen having been stopped 
 as suspected by a honest broker of his acquaintance ; if 
 the articles should prove to be identical, he thought restitu- 
 tion could be made if the person he had the honour of 
 addressing would be good enough to make a small present 
 to the broker for his trouble, and would promise not to 
 endeavour to set the law in motion against the good man 
 who had been unfortunate enough to have come into posses- 
 sion of stolen goods. People anxious to regain their property 
 usually fell in with the terms offered, and though they opened 
 their eyes at the size of the small present required by the 
 honest broker, they had no choice between paying the money 
 or hearing no more of their property. Some there were who 
 wanted an explanation of the coincidence that Wild should 
 
228 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 know of the robbery and also the whereabouts of the goods 
 stolen, but these over-curious persons were hardened indeed 
 if they were not put to shame by the virtuous indignation of 
 their informant : " he had come out of pure good nature, 
 thinking to do a service, but if his motives were called in 
 question, and he was suspected of being an accomplice of 
 thieves, he had no more to say, save that his name was 
 Jonathan Wild, and that he resided in Cock Alley, Cripple- 
 gate, where he was to be found every day." If any grateful 
 recipients of the information brought by Wild were to 
 suggest the propriety of a gift to him, the offer was disdained, 
 and rightly so, from the point of view of his own advantage, 
 for such high-minded conduct could only serve to enhance 
 his character of disinterested probity, and the presents made 
 to " the broker " afforded a very handsome profit on the 
 transaction. Yet Wild was generous enough in dividing the 
 spoils with the thieves, without whom he could do nothing, 
 though he devoted a good deal of time to the training of 
 young thieves, who were practically his servants. The ease 
 with which Wild's good fortune enabled him to learn where 
 stolen effects might be recovered soon earned him a wide- 
 spread reputation, and people who had been relieved of their 
 property began to come to him in search of news of it with- 
 out waiting to be approached by him. Increasing business, 
 too, made his time more valuable, and he now judged him- 
 self in a position to open his house as an office for the 
 recovery of stolen property. This move was attended with 
 great success, and the office was thronged by persons anxious 
 only to get back their goods and not caring overmuch to 
 inquire into the mode of their recovery. But they were not 
 allowed to regain possession without considerable circum- 
 stance. On entering the office they would find the presiding 
 genius gravely seated behind his registers, and would be 
 requested to pay the nominal preliminary fee of five shillings. 
 This done, their names and addresses were entered in a 
 book, together with a description of the articles lost and the 
 manner of the robbery, and the amount of reward that would 
 be given. They were then told to call again in a few days, 
 when it was hoped some information would have come to 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 229 
 
 hand. On the second visit it was the custom to announce 
 that the goods had been traced and demanded, but that the 
 thieves pretended that the pawnbrokers would give more for 
 them than the owner, and that the only way to make sure 
 of recovering them was to increase the reward. Wild was 
 judge enough of character to know how far this squeezing 
 process could be safely carried on, and when the limit was 
 reached he would ask for the payment and the goods would 
 be delivered. To his credit it must he recorded that in no 
 instance that is known did he ever receive payment in this 
 way without restoring the property. If trade flourished as 
 it did, it was due to the untiring efforts of Wild, who forced 
 people to seek his assistance by giving his particular atten- 
 tion to the theft of their property. The thieves were 
 gradually organised, and their number was systematically 
 increased, and they were taught the value of articles which 
 to the mere independent thief are useless and worthless. 
 Things " of no value nor interest except to the owner " were 
 especially sought after and easily found, so that among 
 those who thronged the little office were always to be found 
 merchants and shopkeepers whose account-books had been 
 abstracted, ladies who had lost some prized personal trinket, 
 or ship-masters whose ships' documents had been filched 
 from them at the docks. 
 
 Wild rose with his business, and as became a man of his 
 influence and position, wore laced clothes and carried a sword. 
 He is said to have tested the sword's temper by slicing off the 
 ear of the faithful Mary Milliner, who still shared his roof, 
 though remaining far beneath his new status. No doubt he 
 wanted to get rid of her, and their quarrel effected his purpose. 
 Still he treated her generously, for he set her up as mistress 
 of a little house in Moorfields, and never failed to come to 
 her assistance when business with her was slack. For himself 
 he had loftier notions. He left Cock Alley, and estabHshed 
 a new and grander office at 68, Old Bailey, where his clients 
 failed not to come after him. He looked about him, too, 
 for another lady to take the place of a wife, and succeeded 
 in winning the affections of one as to whose name there is 
 some doubt, it being according to some authorities Mary 
 
23° TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Read and to others Judith Nun. During her short reign — 
 in the nine years which passed before his premature death 
 Wild " remarried " four times — she was well treated, but 
 the union was unfruitful, and it is possible that Jonathan, in 
 whom philoprogenitiveness was strongly developed, did not 
 greatly regret the loss which her death inflicted on him. At 
 any rate he very soon recovered his spirits, and again chose 
 a widow for companion. The marriage ceremony took place 
 at St. Pancras Church, and was performed by the Ordinary 
 of Newgate, who had attended the bride's first husband at 
 Tyburn where the good man had lost his life. On Wild's 
 wedding morning the Ordinary's duties first took him to 
 Tyburn in the company of three thieves who had to be 
 executed, and who may, or may not, have been gratified at 
 seeing their spiritual adviser wearing the marriage favour 
 and white kid gloves with which he proposed to honour the 
 union of the happy couple. They were hanged in good time, 
 and the Ordinary was able to duly attend at the tying of 
 a different kind of knot, amid less dispiriting surroundings. 
 The festivities, indeed, were great, and were carried on 
 lavishly, for some days at the house in Old Bailey. If there 
 was no bounty to the poor, at least the poor prisoners in 
 Newgate were not forgotten, but were entertained with such 
 victuals as were not eaten by the invited guests. 
 
 But though Wild from time to time allowed himself these 
 diversions of a bigamist (his wife at Wolverhampton still 
 lived) his real heart was in his business, and all his best 
 energies were devoted to its development. It gradually 
 grew too big for his personal superintendence, but even in 
 the difficult task of selecting responsible deputies he showed 
 his remarkable judgment and insight into the character of 
 men. It might be said of him, as it has been said of Arch- 
 bishop Tait, that he had a genius for delegation, and though 
 his assistants or colleagues were themselves thieves, or very 
 little better, they faithfully rendered the services expected of 
 them. His first branch office was opened in Newtonhouse 
 Lane, Abraham Mendez being placed in charge of it as 
 clerk of the Northern road, and shortly afterwards Quilt 
 Arnold, who from the public point of view was a notorious 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 231 
 
 rogue, was installed clerk of the Western road. Their 
 principal duty was to keep a sharp eye on the thieves, some 
 of whom would show signs of unruliness from time to time, 
 and to keep themselves well informed of all important events 
 which were likely to afford golden opportunities for the 
 exploits of the children of Jonathan's gang, as it was called. 
 The gang was admirably organised by Jonathan and his 
 lieutenants. There was the swell mob division, or, as they 
 were then called, " spruce prigs," who were well-dressed 
 gentlemen, told off to present themselves at theatres, operatic 
 performances, balls, race-meetings, entertainments at Court, 
 or any other description of festivity patronised by the wealthy 
 and well-to-do. No expense was spared in making the appear- 
 ance of these pickpockets equal to that of those on whom they 
 plied their craft, and in the hands of their special trainer, one 
 Lunn by name, they successfully aped the manners of the 
 gentry. Lunn met with an untimely end, for, employing his 
 leisure at highway robbery, he was caught and hanged, and it 
 was found difficult to replace him, till Jonathan conceived 
 the happy notion of sending his most promising pupils to be 
 instructed by a professional teacher of dancing and deport- 
 ment. Some of the gentlemen thieves had places found for 
 them as footmen or valets-de-chambre, and kept them as long 
 as there was anything left to steal, or till they were discovered 
 and turned out. Others took rooms in the more expensive 
 parts of the town and ordered costly goods from shopkeepers 
 which they removed as occasion offered. Valuables obtained 
 by some of these methods could not, of course, be offered to 
 their owners, and were transferred to a special department 
 which was formed for the alteration or melting down of 
 watches, rings, and other jewellery. The burglar division 
 were supplied with the implements of their art from a store of 
 such articles which were lent to those thieves who could put 
 them to good use. A careful watch was necessarily kept by 
 Wild and his lieutenants on the persons entrusted with their 
 property, and at a fair or race-meeting Wild himself might 
 often be seen looking after his interests, though, armed with a 
 silver staff as a mark of assumed authority, he gave himself out 
 as being on the watch for thieves and disorderly characters. 
 
232 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Wild, in fact, still continued to pose everywhere as an 
 officer of justice, and while commiserating with the clients 
 who came to him for the restoration of their property, he 
 assured them of his earnest wish to catch the thief. And 
 sometimes it suited his purpose very well to do so. Cases 
 of insubordination or recalcitrancy among the members of 
 his gang were always visited with swift and severe punish- 
 ment, inasmuch as the rebels were straightway informed 
 against and evidence to ensure their conviction was always 
 adduced. Wild christened himself " the Thief-taker," and 
 in his enterprising way anticipated more modern resources 
 of publicity by paying newspapers to insert references to the 
 Thief-catcher General, and by treating condemned prisoners 
 at Newgate on the condition that they made a reference to 
 his prowess in their dying speeches from the gallows-cart. 
 If a suitable reward were offered for a capture and he had 
 no personal interest in preventing it, he would really exert 
 himself. Thus he gained great distinction in the case of 
 the murder of Mrs. Knapp, who was shot by some thieves 
 who were robbing her son at the time, in Gray's Inn Lane, 
 on the 31st of March, 1716. It was suggested to him that a 
 description of the supposed murderers would enable him to 
 assist in their detection. He thought he could be of no use 
 in the matter till a reward of fifty guineas was mentioned, 
 when, touched to the quick, he exclaimed, " I never pardon 
 murder," and set himself in good earnest to the task of 
 discovering Mrs. Knapp's assailants. By the 8th of June 
 three of the men concerned were hanged through Wild's 
 good offices ; a fourth would have been had he not, when 
 caught, turned evidence and given information as to twenty- 
 two of his former accomplices in crime, and a few months 
 later Timothy Dun, the last of them, who had secreted himself 
 in a cellar, was unearthed by Wild and driven to Tyburn. 
 
 A man who could make himself so useful was not one on 
 whom the authorities responsible for law and order in the 
 metropolis could afford to be too severe unless for very 
 flagrant cause. It might well be that he was the cause of 
 much disrespect of the law, but since it suited him some- 
 times to act as the law's minion, and the law was in 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 233 
 
 constant need of examples to justify its existence, a man 
 who could at will provide so much material was not to be 
 lightly overthrown. To lay Wild by the heels was in a 
 measure to kill the goose with the golden eggs. So it hap- 
 pened that, although frequently exposed, and still more 
 frequently suspected, and on one occasion even ordered to 
 Newgate, Wild escaped actual punishment, and was able 
 to pursue his course practically unmolested. His efforts 
 to bring about the arrest and conviction of criminals 
 were as nothing compared with those required for securing 
 their acquittal, and it was not seldom that these latter 
 efforts had to be brought into play. If one of his gang was 
 unfortunate enough to come within reach of justice it was 
 Wild's interest to do what he could to get the man off, and 
 that he should exercise his not inconsiderable influence in 
 this way was part of the arrangement under which he and his 
 men worked so amicably together. His methods of bringing 
 about this object were various, and sometimes ingenious. 
 The most obvious one was to suborn witnesses, or, if the 
 witnesses were not of a kind to be tampered with, to devise 
 a means of keeping them out of court. If the prosecutor 
 could be prevented from appearing against the prisoner the 
 matter was easier still, but the employment of this ex- 
 pedient was attended by a good deal of risk, as Jonathan 
 once, at least, discovered. Arnold Powell, a particularly 
 low thief, who to many other bad qualities added open 
 defiance of Wild, was foolish enough, after having been once 
 acquitted of a charge of robbery, to commit a burglary. News 
 of it reached the wide ears of the Thief-taker, who promptly 
 informed the victim of the identity of the burglar, and 
 persuaded him to prosecute. But before the sessions 
 Powell came to his senses and sent for Wild, who named 
 his terms, which were eagerly accepted, and promised an 
 acquittal. When the trial came on the prosecutor was 
 absent. Wild having informed him that, in order to save his 
 time, he would send word when the case should come on for 
 hearing. Three separate times was the prosecutor called in 
 vain, and then the case was dismissed, and the recognisances 
 of the prosecutor were ordered to be estreated. This 
 
234 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 gentleman, when called upon to pay, was anxious to ex- 
 plain his absence, and did so with such success that Wild was 
 severely reprimanded from the bench and ordered to New- 
 gate, though the prosecution of him was afterwards allowed 
 to drop. Powell was condemned to death at the next 
 sessions on another indictment. 
 
 But Wild's favourite means of procuring the acquittal of 
 his friends — a means which fulfilled a double end — was to 
 furnish them with material for turning King's evidence. 
 Prisoners who could give such information as to their 
 accomplices and others as would ensure their conviction, 
 could generally obtain their own release, and Wild, when 
 the life of a valued colleague was at stake, would not 
 hesitate to furnish him with certain particulars, with 
 which he was sure to be well stocked, of some less-esteemed 
 miscreant whose head would be put in the noose to 
 afford the escape of the other. This, in fact, was the 
 simplest method of revenge on the rebellious members of 
 the profession who had refused to bow to Jonathan's 
 authority. They were not always arrested on the first 
 opportunity that offered, but allowed to continue in iniquity 
 until some worthier disciple was in trouble and informed 
 against them. If the charges made in evidence were not 
 true, so much the worse for the scapegoat ; hard swearing on 
 the part of the informer gave them colour, and, if further evi- 
 dence was called for. Wild could supply perjurers numerous 
 enough to secure the conviction of an angel. Proceedings of 
 this kind were frequent enough to exalt Wild to a very high 
 position in the eyes of the thieves, who were morally obliged 
 to endow him with omnipotence where they were concerned, 
 and to pay him the respect that became such a quality. 
 Many of his trustiest supporters were altogether in his 
 power as being transported convicts who had returned 
 home before the term of their expatriation had expired and 
 it was from their ranks that he liked best to win recruits. 
 Recruiting was a branch of his business to which Wild 
 gave close attention, and when returned convicts ran short 
 he would repair to the Mint in Southwark, a locality which, 
 in Ball's Ginshop and the Music-house at Bankside could 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 23S 
 
 boast two of the most infamous dens in London. Ball, of 
 the Ginshop, was one of "Wild's staunchest adherents, and it 
 was but the irony of fate which led to his being shot, at a 
 later period, by Burnworth, who was one of the cleverest 
 thieves ever trained by Wild, and was considered in the 
 profession to be a better man than Sheppard. A man of 
 the Surrey side, who was cast down by ill-fortune, would 
 naturally go to Ball's in search of consolation, and if Wild 
 found' him there he would cheer him with the assurance 
 that all was not lost, that if he had failed in one walk of life 
 there was at least one other career to be successfully fol- 
 lowed by a brave heart. When he had gained a listener 
 Wild proceeded to instil a knowledge of thieving made easy, 
 and was ready with the necessary capital or outfit to give a 
 respectable start to the recruit. The only condition was 
 that the Samaritan who had rescued the man from the 
 gutter was to receive a handsome percentage on the profits 
 of the new undertaking. Nothing would probably be said 
 of any penalty for neglect to observe this condition, but the 
 fool who thought himself strong enough to disregard it 
 would not be long in discovering that in dealing with Wild 
 it paid best to be honest. A certain dissipated cheese- 
 monger, whose name has been forgotten, had been in his 
 distress thus befriended by Wild. He was provided with a 
 horse and commenced business on the highway, meeting, 
 in a very short time, with extraordinary success. Finding 
 his new calling both easy and profitable he began to doubt 
 the wisdom of sharing the proceeds with Wild, and failed 
 to report himself. Wild heard through his agents of the 
 highwayman's exploits on the Oxford road, and receiving 
 no account from the man himself determined to make an 
 example of him. He set out on the same road, and some 
 miles from Oxford met with a party who had just stood and 
 delivered. Wild rode on, and presently came up with his 
 man, who expected to find in the solitary rider a further 
 prey. Without waiting to parley or even reproach the 
 €X-cheesemonger for his ingratitude the Thief-taker shot 
 him dead and cantered on to Oxford to report the service 
 he had done the State. 
 
236 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 But the State was beginning to think that, despite his 
 services, Wild was becoming a too prominent character. If 
 he can be charged with committing an error in judgment 
 it was in the too ostentatious use of his very considerable 
 wealth. He moved from his house in the Old Bailey to a 
 larger one on the other side of the road, next the Cooper's 
 Arms, and maintained the establishment of a man of means. 
 Mrs. Wild walked abroad attended by a footman in livery. 
 They dined every day from five courses, and the remains 
 were sent to the prisoners on the common-felon side of 
 Newgate gaol hard by. There was, indeed, no pretence 
 of mystery about Wild's principal business of middleman 
 between thieves and the rest of the public, and if his actual 
 complicity with the former party could not be actually proved 
 the large extent of his dealings must have bred suspicion. 
 Moreover, Wild's old friend Hitchen, inspired by frantic 
 jealousy, published a pamphlet which he called " The 
 Regulator; or a discovery of Thieves, Thief-takers," &c., and 
 in which he held Jonathan up to reprobation and charged 
 him with most known crimes. Wild replied with a counter- 
 blast in which he admitted the evil influences of Hitchen on 
 himself but disavowed the more serious charges, while he 
 brought others, far worse, against his tutor. Not much 
 notice was taken of this literary warfare which was not 
 needed to draw attention to Wild's proceedings. So again 
 the watchful Legislature made him the special object of an 
 attack by passing the Act which created it a capital offence 
 to take a reward for restoring stolen effects unless the thief 
 was apprehended or caused to be apprehended by the person 
 accepting the reward. Jonathan was for once almost down- 
 cast by this direct interference with his means of subsistence. 
 He talked vaguely at first of setting up an office for insurance 
 against burglary, but the limited facilities for advertising led 
 him to reconsider the idea, and he abandoned it when he 
 had thought out a project for circumventing the new law. 
 He decided that though he could no longer receive money 
 for goods he could still keep open his office for the benefits 
 of such people as cared to seek his advice. When his 
 advice was sought he made the usual preliminary inquiries, 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 237 
 
 and after two or three visits would inform an applicant that 
 if a certain sum of money were deposited at a certain place 
 the stolen goods would be restored. In these cases, as under 
 the old system, justice was done and the property recovered, 
 if the money was duly paid, but the victims of Wild's gang 
 were more shy than they had been of coming to the office, 
 and business did not flourish as it had. Stolen goods 
 accumulated, and the gentlemen who had procured them 
 required money in exchange. Face to face with this 
 difficulty Wild reflected, as became a citizen of the world, 
 that London was not the only place where honest trading 
 might be done, and that in other countries no inconvenient 
 questions would be asked as to the origin of merchandise or 
 as to the person who wished to dispose of it. Accordingly 
 he invested a part of his savings in the purchase of a sloop, 
 and found a suitable master ready to his hand in that 
 peerless blackguard, Roger Johnson. The new enterprise 
 worked well. The good ship set out with her miscellaneous 
 cargo and made for Ostend, as a rule, or sometimes Rotter- 
 dam, and after landing the goods returned to the port of 
 London, or as near thereto as she might safely get without 
 attracting the notice of the custom-house officers, laden 
 with a new cargo of brandy, lace, and other articles of 
 contraband. After two or three years' successful trading , 
 misfortune fell on the sloop owing to a quarrel between the 
 skipper and his chief mate, who revenged himself by laying 
 an information against Johnson for smuggling. The State 
 seized the ship and its captain was called upon to pay fines 
 to the extent of £700, the expense of which fell upon Wild. 
 Jonathan meantime was reverting to his old methods of 
 business, being urged thereto by persons who had been 
 robbed and were anxious only to get back what they had lost. 
 But great caution was necessary, and Wild, whose neces- 
 sities were greater even than his resources, was constrained 
 to run great personal risks. He had a narrow escape from 
 the persecution of a Mr. Jarvis, whose bulky trunk he had 
 happened to notice in an inn-yard at Smithfield. He sent his 
 man, Jerry Rann (an expert thief, but not to be confounded 
 with the Rann of a later day, better known as Sixteen-string 
 
238 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Jack), to carry off the trunk, and when Jarvis applied to 
 Wild for its recovery it was returned to him on payment of 
 ten guineas. Rann, however, soon afterwards had a dispute 
 with Wild, who ended it in his usual summary way by giving 
 Rann into custody. Rann was tried and condemned to 
 death, but on the day before his execution he sent for Jarvis 
 and acquainted him with the adventures of the trunk. 
 Jarvis resolved to prosecute Wild, and in all probability 
 would have successfully done so had he not happened to die 
 at this fortunate moment. Experience such as this, com- 
 bined with growing insubordination among the thieves, who, 
 now that his opportunities were restricted, regarded Wild 
 with less respect, bred in him a feeling of insecurity. He 
 put his position to the test in January, 1729, by a petition 
 to the Corporation for the Freemanship of the City on the 
 ground that he had assisted in the apprehension and con- 
 viction of several notorious thieves. To his disgust no 
 notice was taken of the application. He began, too, to 
 make frequent appearances in the police-court, and though 
 he managed to wriggle out of the charges brought against 
 him by his accusers, who were former supporters, he feared 
 that he would not be able to escape always. A letter is 
 extant in which he beseeches the Earl of Dartmouth to 
 protect him from the violent persecution of some magis- 
 trates who had encouraged thieves to swear against him, 
 and he promises in return to do public service by discovering, 
 apprehending, and convicting numbers of notorious criminals. 
 In a later letter he has heard that the Earl has lost some 
 things " on the road," and asks for particulars of them in 
 order that he may use his diligence to serve his lordship. 
 But all was to no purpose, for the toils were gathering round 
 him. His only chance of recovering his reputation was by 
 activity in causing the arrest of thieves, and in consequence 
 of their disaffection he was the more willing to undertake 
 the work. 
 
 Few of Wild's gang were better known than Joseph Blake, 
 or, to give him his more popular name, Blueskin, who was a 
 clever pickpocket, but not so clever but that he frequently 
 found himself in custody. At one time he had spent many 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 239 
 
 months in the Wood Street Compter, being unable to find 
 security for his good behaviour, and during this time 
 Jonathan had allowed him sixpence a day. On his release 
 he joined his friend, that " marvellous boy who perished in 
 his pride," John Sheppard, and together they accompHshed 
 many robberies and burglaries. They broke loose altogether 
 from Wild's authority, declining to give him a share in the 
 proceeds of their exploits, and consequently when Mr. 
 Kneebone, a former employer of Sheppard, sought Wild's 
 assistance in the discovery of the thieves who had robbed 
 him of a bale of valuable cloth, Jonathan was delighted to 
 suggest and personally arrest Blake as the culprit. He 
 affected sorrow at what he had been obliged to do, and 
 though he could hold out no hope of getting his prisoner off 
 he cheerfully promised that his body should not be dissected 
 but decently buried in a coffin. The sensitive Blueskin, 
 anxious as he was as to the disposal of his remains, was 
 even more anxious that Wild should have no hand in the 
 matter, and on receiving a visit from Wild before his trial, 
 drew a knife and cut his captor's throat. Happily the 
 knife was blunt, but Jonathan was so seriously hurt that 
 he had to forego the pleasure he had promised himself of 
 assisting at Blake's conviction by giving evidence against 
 him in person. In his absence some hard words were said 
 of him in open court, but, none the less, Blueskin was duly 
 hanged on November 11, 1724. Sheppard had been con- 
 demned for the same offence, but his execution was delayed 
 by his escape from prison. 
 
 Blake's was not the only sacrifice of a former friend made 
 by Wild in his effort to retrieve reputation, and if he had 
 confined himself to perfidy of this kind he might have lived 
 to enjoy old age. But he could not afford to abandon his 
 old mode of life nor to quarrel with all his best friends. He 
 disliked quarrelling, and it was an endeavour on his part to 
 act as peacemaker in his own peculiar way t'hat commenced 
 the last chapter of his busy life. His old ally, Roger Johnson, 
 was at the bottom of it. Johnson frequented a house much 
 patronised by thieves and kept by Thomas Edwards, and 
 the two quarrelled over the partition of some stolen property. 
 
240 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Both were fired with indignation, and happening to meet 
 in the street gave each other into custody for felony. Wild 
 went bail for Johnson and persuaded him to drop his pro- 
 secution of Edwards, but this ungrateful innkeeper gave 
 certain information to the authorities, as a result of which 
 Wild's premises were searched and vast quantities of stolen 
 property brought to light. This discovery was too much for 
 the great friendship which Jonathan bore his friend, and 
 swearing that the goods belonged to Johnson he caused 
 Edwards to be arrested on Johnson's behalf. But Edwards, 
 too, had friends who bailed him out, and he then devoted 
 himself to the pursuit of Johnson, who prudently remained 
 in hiding. At last he ventured out, and was met by his 
 enemy, who straightway gave him into custody. Johnson 
 enticed the officer into a beer-shop and sent word of what 
 had happened to Wild, who promptly attended with his 
 aide-de-camp. Quilt Arnold. The pair got up a miniature 
 riot for the purpose of allowing Johnson to escape, which he 
 failed not to do. For this friendly rescue an information 
 was laid against Wild, who retired for observation till he 
 thought the matter had blown over, when he returned with 
 Arnold to the Old Bailey. No sooner were they back when 
 Jones, the eminent high-constable of the Holborn division, 
 appeared at the house, and after arresting them took them 
 to Sir John Fryer, a magistrate, who sat up in his bed to 
 examine them. They were committed to gaol the same 
 evening, February 15, 1725, and remained there till Feb- 
 ruary 24th, when Wild demanded to be discharged or put 
 on his trial. The interval had been employed in getting up 
 a case against Wild, and three days after his application he 
 was ordered to be further detained on the strength of various 
 articles of information filed against the Thief-taker. The 
 articles, eleven in number, made some damaging charges, 
 alleging amongst other things that he had been for many 
 years the confederate of highwaymen and thieves of all 
 sorts ; that he had formed a corporation of thieves of which 
 he was director-general ; that he had been a receiver of 
 stolen goods ; that he concealed and supplied with clothes 
 and money convicted felons ; that he encouraged coiners ; and 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 241 
 
 that he had often sold human blood by swearing or procuring 
 false evidence. When the information had been read the 
 high-constable produced another, which charged the prisoner 
 with capital offences to be proved by two convicts. These 
 convicts received a free pardon as a condition of appearing 
 against Wild. At the sessions on April loth Wild applied by 
 counsel for a postponement of his trial on the grounds that 
 he did not know what was charged against him, and that 
 two material witnesses were absent in the country. In spite 
 of this inconsistency his request was granted and the trial 
 postponed to the next sessions. The delay was disastrous 
 to Wild as it enabled the authorities to get up against him 
 another case supported by better evidence than that of 
 convicted criminals. 
 
 On the 15th of May Wild appeared to his trial on two 
 indictments : first, that on January 22, 1725, he had stolen 
 in the house of Catherine Stetham fifty yards of lace, the 
 property of the said Catherine ; secondly, that on the loth 
 of March he had feloniously received of the said Catherine 
 ten guineas on account, under pretence of restoring the said 
 lace, without apprehending and prosecuting the felon who 
 stole the property. It is to be observed that on the second 
 of these dates Wild was in Newgate, and yet was able to 
 carry on his usual profitable traffic. He had employed the 
 days preceding the trial in literary composition, and distri- 
 buted among jurymen and others a list of persons appre- 
 hended and convicted by his means, including thirty-five 
 highwaymen, twenty-two housebreakers, and ten convicts 
 who had returned too soon from transportation. Fortified 
 by this defence in anticipation Wild duly appeared in the 
 dock and asked that the witnesses might be heard apart 
 from one another. The request was complied with, but the 
 evidence was not to be shaken. The story was a simple one. 
 On Wild's instructions Henry Kelley and Margaret Murphy 
 had gone to Stetham's shop, and on the pretence of making 
 a purchase had stolen a box of lace, which they handed over 
 to Wild ; he had examined its contents, and, telling them 
 the lace was worth ten guineas, had given them five to divide 
 between them. Kelley and Murphy both deposed to these 
 
 17 
 
242 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 facts, but Wild's counsel pointed out that he could not be 
 legally convicted, as it had been shown he was not " in the 
 house " as stated in the indictment, but had in fact waited 
 outside. The judge, Lord Raymond, declared there could 
 be no doubt as to the prisoner's guilt, but recommended him 
 to the mercy of the jury, who, on the strength of the legal 
 quibble, found him " Not guilty." Then followed the trial 
 on the second indictment, and Catherine Stetham bore 
 witness how after the theft of her lace she had advertised 
 for it, but with no result, and had then sought the assistance 
 of Wild. He had put her off two or three times, but pre- 
 tended he knew the persons who had the lace, and she had 
 expressed her willingness to give twenty-five guineas for its 
 recovery. Meanwhile Wild had been put in Newgate, but 
 on the loth of March he had sent her word that if she would 
 bring ten guineas her lace would be given up to her. She 
 had gone to the prison and seen Wild, who instructed her to 
 give the money to a porter ; the porter had disappeared for 
 a short time and had then brought back the lace, one piece 
 of which was missing. She had asked Wild what satisfac- 
 tion he expected, and he had replied, " Not one farthing : I 
 have no interested views in matters of this kind, but act 
 from a principle of serving people under misfortune. I hope 
 I shall be soon able to recover the other piece of lace and to 
 return you the ten guineas, and perhaps cause the thief to 
 be apprehended. For the service I can render you I shall 
 only expect your prayers. I have many enemies, and know 
 not what will be the consequences of this imprisonment." 
 
 If this were a place to indulge in the pleasures of imagina- 
 tion it might be permitted to picture the triumphant look of 
 innocence justified with which Wild turned to the jury at 
 this repetition of his noble words ; but Jonathan's triumph, 
 if it existed, was short-lived, for the judge said the case was 
 plain, and the jury, taking the same view, brought in a verdict 
 of " Guilty." Sentence of death was passed. 
 
 Wild could not believe that there was any serious intention 
 of cutting short his promising career. He might be quartered 
 on the condemned side of Newgate, but he asserted his 
 confidence that the King's pardon would be granted to one 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 243 
 
 who had aided in the suppression of so many evil-doers, and 
 had put so many people in possession of goods wrongfully 
 taken away from them. He felt certain that members of 
 the nobility whom he had thus benefited would combine to 
 interest themselves on his behalf. But the days passed on 
 and nothing was heard of a reprieve. It was observed that 
 Wild's manner grew strange, and he being asked what ailed 
 him replied that he thought his mind must have been affected 
 by cracks on the skull received when capturing thieves, and 
 by the cut which Blueskin made in his throat. But even 
 this touching explanation availed nothing. Towards the 
 close of the ten days which separated his trial from the day 
 fixed for his execution Wild fasted, and though he refused to 
 attend service in the chapel he gave a good deal of attention 
 to the ministrations of Mr. Puyney, the Ordinary. If the 
 accepted version of his last days be true he inquired of the 
 good divine what was the meaning of the words " Cursed is 
 every one that hangeth on a tree," and what was the state 
 of the soul after its departure from the body ; but for answer 
 he was oddly enough advised to turn his attention to matters 
 of more importance. On the day before his execution he 
 received the sacrament and spent the evening in a discussion 
 with the Ordinary on suicide, making reference from his 
 well-stocked mind to the cases of noble Greeks and Romans 
 who had taken their own lives. In the end of the argu- 
 ment he allowed himself vvorsted, but in the early morning 
 he administered to himself a large dose of laudanum. The 
 quantity he took combined with his fast to prevent the 
 poison from taking full effect, and while he lay stupefied two 
 kindly-hearted fellow-prisoners raised him to his feet and 
 walked him up and down. The exercise caused him to be 
 very sick, and he again became nearly insensible ; but the 
 day had broken, and in his piteous condition he was placed 
 in the cart which was to take him to Tyburn. The ride 
 from Newgate to the Marble Arch is not a long one, but 
 Wild, aroused from his torpor by the mud and stones flung 
 at him by the mob which lined the whole road, must have 
 wished it shorter. Yet, having failed to kill himself, he was 
 in no haste to die, for on his arrival at Tyburn he asked time for 
 
244 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 meditation, and continued to sit with folded arms in the cart 
 stolidly staring at the multitude which stood around cursing 
 him. So long did he sit that the crowd, thirsting for justice 
 and its sport, yelled at the hangman to do his duty, and at 
 length so seriously threatened that worthy, who had already 
 hanged three persons that morning, that he was compelled 
 to arouse Jonathan and perform the task appointed him. 
 As Wild's body rose into the air the angry crowd ceased its 
 cries, and his breath left him amid a profound and impressive 
 silence. 
 
 On the evening of the same day. May 25, 1725, Wild's 
 body was cut down, and it was buried in St. Pancras church- 
 yard at two o'clock the next morning. His bones had no long 
 peace, for shortly afterwards they were secretly disinterred 
 and consigned, it was supposed, to the dissecting-room. A 
 skull, said to be Jonathan Wild's, was exhibited in London 
 in i860, and up to about the same time a surgeon at 
 Windsor boasted of the possession of the headless skeleton. 
 Other relics of him are few, but at the Record Office and at 
 the Guildhall there are papers in his handwriting, and there 
 probably still exists the musketoon, originally presented by 
 Wild to Blueskin, and afterwards by Sir John Fielding to 
 his brother Henry, which was exhibited at the Society of 
 Antiquaries in 1866. 
 
 Whatever be the judgment passed on Wild's character — 
 and there is not much room for two opinions — it cannot 
 be denied that he was a man of exceptional parts. His 
 pre-eminence lay in his knowledge of how to use his fellow- 
 men as tools, and it must be admitted that a history of 
 Wild, to be complete, should properly include the history of 
 his relations with the various members of his gang. Few 
 things are more to be regretted than that tradition, which 
 has brought down to us so much that is useless and unedify- 
 ing, should have left us with no more than the mere names 
 of many of the chosen band, men and women who helped 
 both to support Wild and to lift him to greatness. Old Sue 
 Belcher? What shall we ever know of her, save that she 
 well and faithfully served her mistress, Sarah Hull ? And 
 what of Sarah Hull ? Yet it has been given to few women 
 
JONATHAN WILD. 245 
 
 to know the thrilling experiences of Sarah, who was married 
 four times, and saw three of her husbands hanged and the 
 fourth condemned four times, and yet preserved to his wife 
 by a merciful Providence. Pre-eminence in any branch of 
 industry is worthy of record, but we must be content to 
 know that Mary Arnold was the most expert shoplifter ever 
 known, and must remain in ignorance of the justification 
 for the fame she won. These gentler spirits, together with 
 others of the sterner make, Paul Groves, Richard Oakey, 
 Matthew Flood, and Jonathan's brother Andrew, who kept 
 a "case" at the "Black Boy" in Newtonhouse Lane, to 
 mention no more — they are all but shadows on the stage 
 where Jonathan Wild stalks ablaze, extinguishing all paler 
 lights. 
 
MR. JAMES MACLAINE, 
 
 THE GENTLEMAN HIGHWAYMAN. 
 
 (1724-1750.) 
 
 " One that can 
 Shew thee what 'tis to be a gentleman." 
 
 I. C, Art. Mag., 1649. 
 
 IF a man has any claim to the title of " Gentleman " his 
 surest way to sustain it, is to leave no one any room 
 to doubt that he thoroughly deserves that of " scoundrel." 
 For if, when the time arrives for a public acknowledgment 
 of his right to the latter, his friends hesitate to insist upon 
 his honourable origin, he may be quite sure that it will be 
 remembered — as an additional aggravation — by his enemies. 
 Had Mr. James Maclaine been content to confine his 
 energies to the dispensing of sand and small-coal in the 
 neighbourhood of Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, it is 
 more than probable that no one would have suspected his 
 connection with an honourable family in the north of Scot- 
 land. From such a stock, however, did he derive his descent. 
 His father, Lauchlin Maclaine, after having been educated 
 in the University of Glasgow, proceeded to Ireland to take 
 charge of a Presbyterian congregation at Monaghan, and 
 there married his wife, a lady of a family as reputable as his 
 own. To them were born three children — Archibald, James, 
 and Anne Jane. Mr. James Maclaine first saw light in 1724, 
 and passed his early years under the eye of his father 
 from whom he imbibed those Principles of Religion which, 
 
 according to his own account, persisted in obtruding them- 
 
 246 
 
' ^% -t^' . ^-^ 
 
 
 :.<^ 
 
 ;a#^ 
 
 JAMES MACLAINE. 
 
MR. JAMES MACLAINE. 247 
 
 selves upon him throughout his life. Of the evil effects of 
 evil surroundings upon the youthful mind we have all been 
 warned — less attention has been bestowed upon that ten- 
 dency to violent revolt which is sometimes fostered by the 
 precepts of the pious. When the cynic comes to multiply 
 instances of this phenomenon Mr. James Maclaine must not 
 be forgotten ; meantime take this from the philosophy of 
 Yuba Bill, " Ef that's the man, I've heerd he was the son 
 of some big preacher in the States. . . . They're the wust 
 kind to kick when they once get a foot over the traces. For 
 stiddy, comf'ble kempany, give me the son of a man that 
 was hanged ! " 
 
 Besides imparting to him religious instruction, Mr. 
 Maclaine, who intended his son for a mercantile career, 
 also "grounded him in Latin, writing, and accompts " — a 
 system of education to which the ungrateful youth was 
 afterwards rather inclined to attribute his many errors and 
 even his untimely end. A scheme for the advancement of his 
 son, which was being discussed between Mr. Maclaine on the 
 one side and a Scottish merchant in Rotterdam on the other, 
 was put an end to by the death of the minister, and, his 
 mother having died some years previously, James was left 
 an orphan at the age of eighteen. His brother, already 
 established as English chaplain at the Hague, appears to 
 have been absent from home at the time of his father's 
 death, for James immediately took possession of all their 
 little inheritance and applied it to his own purposes. His 
 contempt for learning he displayed by selling his father's 
 books, and his vanity by the purchase of a gay coat and 
 a gelding. Thus furnished he began his career as a squire 
 of dames, and for the next twelve months was constant in 
 his attendance upon the daughters of the neighbouring 
 farmers at all the fairs for ten miles round. This occupation 
 Mr. Maclaine doubtless found more pleasant than profit- 
 able, and so the idea of establishing his fortunes by a rich 
 marriage — an idea to which he clung throughout his short 
 life — naturally occurred to him. Naturally, because, as one 
 of his early biographers says, " He never could put it out of 
 his head that the ladies, who are extreme good judges — at 
 
248 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 least of the natural parts— could look upon his charming 
 person with indifference." 
 
 With these natural advantages and some assistance from 
 a cheap tailor he set out for Dublin in pursuit of his design, 
 but whether it was that the ladies of that city were not 
 such " extreme good judges " as he supposed, or he was lost 
 in a superfluity of handsome men, Mr. Maclaine's hopes were 
 not realised. He advanced no further in his attempts upon 
 the heiresses than to an acquaintance with their lacqueys, 
 and having in a few months spent all his substance he was 
 forced to sell his tawdry finery and to set out on foot for 
 Monaghan. His relatives, who had been deaf to his requests 
 for assistance while he was at Dublin, either received him 
 coldly or refused to see him, and they who had been the 
 companions of his former riots made him " the may-game 
 of the town." His credit was gone, and only his sister 
 remained faithful to him and assisted him with her pocket- 
 money. In these straits he took service with a Mr. Howard, 
 — to supply the place of a livery servant who had just then 
 died — and accompanied his master to England. His insolence 
 procured his dismissal from this situation, and once more 
 he set his face towards Monaghan, where he heard his sister 
 was on the point of being married to a man of wealth. He 
 went ostensibly to lay before his relatives a plan of emigra- 
 tion to the West Indies, which only awaited their approval 
 and support, but though this was an enterprise which they 
 would no doubt have gladly sanctioned, it was not, he 
 discovered, one in which they felt inclined to embark any 
 capital. In addition to this disappointment, the gentleman 
 who was engaged to his sister felt compelled to decline the 
 honour of an alliance with him and broke off the match. 
 Once again Mr. Maclaine was involved in difficulties, and 
 however much his pride must have rebelled, his necessities 
 again consented to service, and he became butler to a 
 gentleman in the neighbourhood of Cork. In this situation 
 he took such excessive care of his master's property that he 
 was unable to distinguish it from his own, and was in con- 
 sequence reduced to wander about the country, saved only 
 from starvation by remittances from his brother at the Hague. 
 
MR. JAMES MACLAINE. 249 
 
 About this time it was proposed to Mr. Maclaine that he 
 should take service in the French army, but here the Prin- 
 ciples of Religion made their inconvenient appearance, and 
 he found that his conscience would not allow him to ally 
 himself with the professors of another faith. Upon which 
 his biographer remarks with some simplicity, and probably 
 more truth — " I am afraid, at least it would appear by his 
 future conduct, that he must have had some other motive 
 to decline that service than scruples of conscience." To the 
 English army, however, there were no such objections to be 
 made, and by the generous assistance of the master whom he 
 had robbed he was put in the way to join Lord Albemarle's 
 troop of Horse Guards ; his passage to London was paid, but 
 upon his arrival he appears to have found the attractions of 
 the metropolis too powerful, and Lord Albemarle, who was 
 then in Flanders, never had the honour of numbering Mr. 
 Maclaine among his troopers. Cast once more upon his 
 own resources, he essayed the rdle wherein Mr. Thomas 
 Jones runs so great a risk of forfeiting our esteem. A 
 countrywoman of his, a lady whose eccentricities do not 
 appear to have been sufficiently pronounced to have preserved 
 her name, cast favourable glances upon him, and under her 
 auspices he was for some time enabled to make a flaming 
 figure at all places of public resort. At last, however, it 
 was manifested to him that the part he played was sur- 
 rounded by dangers as well as difficulties, for one day when 
 he was engaged in expressing his sense of his obligations 
 to his inamorata, he was interrupted by the unexpected 
 entrance of a " noble peer," to whom he was an entirely 
 unauthorised under-study. The peer made his acknowledg- 
 ments by bestowing a sound thrashing upon Mr. Maclaine 
 and offering to run him through the body — attentions which 
 the latter, though he was quite as strong and as well armed 
 as his assailant, received without any active objection. No 
 man had greater natural courage than himself, so Mr. 
 Maclaine said, if only the cause were good : unfortunately 
 for his reputation it generally happened that when an oc- 
 casion arose for its display, it was not such as a conscience 
 imbued with the Principles of Religion could well approve. 
 
250 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 As a result of this incident the lady was reduced to pursue 
 her calling in a humbler sphere and Mr. Maclaine suffered a 
 temporary eclipse. From his retirement he was drawn by 
 another countrywoman of his, a lady of quality, from whom 
 he again accepted the position of a petticoat pensioner. Here 
 he seems to have been as much impressed by the difficulties 
 of the situation as he had lately been by its dangers, and 
 he quickly came to the conclusion that the comparative 
 freedom of a matrimonial connection with the daughter of his 
 patroness was much to be preferred to the irksome drudgery 
 of his present service. Unfortunately he was betrayed by 
 the younger lady's waiting-woman, whom he had engaged to 
 assist him in the prosecution of his design, and once more 
 his occupation was gone. His confidence in the fair sex 
 was not, however, altogether misplaced, for at this juncture 
 some ladies of his acquaintance came to his assistance and 
 provided him with means to emigrate to Jamaica — a project 
 with which he once more flattered the hopes of his relatives. 
 Once possessed of the money, however, his thoughts turned 
 in other directions, and having redeemed the fine clothes, 
 which his necessities had obliged him to pawn, he put on 
 with them a fresh resolution, and forgetting Jamaica betook 
 himself to a masquerade instead. Here the gaming-table 
 quickly robbed him of what remained of these friendly con- 
 tributions, but Fortune, faithful to the old adage, recompensed 
 him with the affections of a Miss MacGlegno, the daughter 
 of a respectable innkeeper and horse-dealer. The charms 
 of this lady, or the more substantial attractions of five 
 hundred pounds, her portion, so prevailed upon Mr. Maclaine 
 that he married her and settled down to the commonplace 
 existence of a grocer in Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square. 
 Here he earned the reputation of being both industrious and 
 obliging, and but for a certain extravagance in dress would 
 hardly have invited the attention of his neighbours. 
 
 At the end of three years his wife died, and her loss proved 
 to Mr. Maclaine a calamity far greater than he could possibly 
 have imagined. She had been attended during her last 
 illness by one Plunkett, an Irish apothecary, and though it 
 is suggested that she had not been killed by any excessive 
 
MR. JAMES MACLAINE. 251 
 
 kindness on the part of her husband, this worthy took upon 
 himself the task of lightening the affliction of the widower. 
 Addressing Mr. Maclaine familiarly as " Honey," he said, 
 " though he had lost a good wife, yet, as she was gone, it 
 was to no purpose to grieve much about the matter, since it 
 might in the end turn out the most lucky incident of his life, 
 for if he would allow him to go snips with him in the fortune, 
 he would help him to a woman worth at least £10,000 in 
 possession." 
 
 This proposition at once commended itself to Mr. Maclaine ; 
 it had been an early dream of his, and his faith in his own 
 merits was always sufficient to keep such a project well 
 within the limits of the practical. He sold up his stock in 
 Welbeck Street (he afterwards explained this action by saying 
 that he " found a decay in trade, arising from an unavoidable 
 trust reposed in servants "), he consigned the child his wife 
 had left him to the care of his mother-in-law, and took 
 lodgings for himself in the neighbourhood of Soho Square, 
 whence he, who a few weeks before "was not ashamed to 
 carry a halfpenny-worth of sand or small-coal to his cus- 
 tomers," emerged in all the glory of laced clothes, hat, and 
 feather. Taking upon him the title of a peer, Mr. Maclaine, 
 with Plunkett in attendance as his servant, set out upon 
 his quest which led him eventually to the Wells ; there, 
 during an altercation in the public room, my Lord was 
 recognised by a half-pay officer who had known him as a 
 footman, and ignominiously kicked out of the company. 
 Returning to London with but five guineas in his possession, 
 Mr. Maclaine yet once more bethought him of Jamaica, and 
 having been fortunate enough to meet with a sympathetic 
 fellow-countryman upon 'Change, he was by his efforts put 
 in possession of a sum of sixty guineas to fit himself out for 
 the voyage. But it was not to be. Mr. Maclaine was not 
 destined to leave his country for his country's good — at least 
 not by way of Jamaica. He went to a masquerade to take 
 one last farewell of the gaieties of London ; he tempted 
 Fortune, and though she smiled upon him at his entrance, 
 she ended by entirely averting her countenance, and he left 
 the place without a guinea in his pocket. In these straits 
 
252 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 the Spirit of Evil appeared in the guise of Mr. William 
 Plunkett, who, upon hearing of Mr. Maclaine's desperate 
 situation, delivered himself of the opinion that brave men 
 had a right to live and not want the conveniences of life 
 while dull, plodding, busy knaves carried cash in their 
 pockets — upon such they must draw to supply their wants. 
 Although this method of ministering to one's necessities 
 was, according to Mr. Plunkett, the prerogative of the brave, 
 he ended somewhat illogically by declaring that scarce any 
 courage was needed for putting it into execution. Mr. 
 Maclaine listened to the voice of the tempter, and failing 
 upon this occasion to hear anything in reply from the Prin- 
 ciples of Religion, he decided to commence highwayman. 
 Two horses were hired, while the necessary pistols seem to 
 have been directly provided by Mr. Plunkett, from which 
 circumstance it has been surmised that this was not his first 
 entrance upon this profession : possibly it was thought that 
 he, being an Irish apothecary, was already sufficiently well 
 armed with weapons of offence for all legitimate occasions. 
 
 On the evening following the taking of their resolution 
 the companions met upon Hounslow Heath, intending to lie 
 in wait for people going to and from Smithfield. 
 
 Their first victim was a grazier, whom they robbed of 
 about seventy pounds. In this, and indeed in all their 
 subsequent transactions, Mr. Maclaine was very far from 
 displaying that light-hearted recklessness usually associated 
 with gentlemen of his profession. He was, as a rule, 
 content to view the proceedings from a distance, or at most 
 to hold the horses' heads, while his companion took the risk 
 of a bullet from any " dull, busy, plodding knave," who 
 might object to hand over what he had about him. Mr. 
 Maclaine has left us his own explanation of his diffidence, 
 which is indeed fortunate, for were it not offensive to our 
 reason to suppose that a gentleman would boast of that 
 which he did not possess, we might almost have been 
 inclined to suspect that he was an arrant coward. Nor 
 did Mr. Maclaine easily recover his equanimity : upon this 
 first occasion he was overwhelmed with apprehensions, and 
 refused for some days to stir out of the room which he and 
 
MR. JAMES MACLAINE. 253 
 
 Plunkett had engaged at an inn some ten miles from the 
 scene of their exploit. Nothing would satisfy him but to 
 retire for a week or two into the country ; and with this 
 desire Mr. Plunkett appeared to comply. Accordingly they 
 set out in the direction of St. Albans, but they had not 
 proceeded more than three miles upon their way when 
 the ex-apothecary informed his companion that it was not 
 retirement he was seeking in the country, but more favour- 
 able opportunities for the exercise of the profession they had 
 adopted. It was only with the greatest reluctance that Mr. 
 Maclaine promised his co-operation, and when a stage-coach 
 immediately came in sight, he was most urgent to be allowed 
 to withdraw. But Mr. Plunkett reproving his want of con- 
 fidence, he at length agreed to stand to his promise, saying 
 (which was scarcely complimentary to his friend), " Needs 
 must when the devil drives ; I am over shoes and must over 
 boots." From the passengers in the coach they obtained 
 two gold watches and about twenty pounds in money, with 
 which they returned to London, after having lurked for 
 several days in the neighbourhood of Richmond and 
 Hampton Court. 
 
 Mr. Maclaine's face was now steadfastly set towards 
 Jamaica, but he was so truly unfortunate in timing his 
 arrival in London that he found that the ship, whose 
 passengers he might probably have insured against any risk 
 of drowning, had sailed two days before. Henceforth he 
 appears to have resigned himself to his fate, and to have 
 finally adopted the profession which he may be said hitherto 
 to have followed only en amateur. He took up his residence 
 at the house of one Dunn, in St. James's Street, opposite 
 the Old Bagnio, in order that he might make himself 
 acquainted with the movements of the gentlemen who 
 frequented that establishment, and take occasion to follow 
 them when they set out. Mr. Plunkett lodged in Jermyn 
 Street, and the faces of the confederates were as well known, 
 says Horace Walpole, as those of any gentlemen in the 
 neighbourhood. For some time they confined their opera- 
 tions to the environs of London and reaped a rich harvest ; 
 but it might be said of them, as of other gentlemen of 
 
254 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 similar pursuits, that what they collected with spoons they 
 dissipated with shovels. Mr. Plunkett, like Captain Cottle, 
 "was all for love, and a little for the bottle," while Mr. 
 Maclaine, bene natus as he was, had a proper desire to appear 
 hene vestitus, and endeavoured to find distraction in the 
 society of " young people of figure and fortune." But the 
 latter's " sickly conscience " allowed him no repose ; he was 
 frequently observed to be under extreme agitation of mind, 
 " even to the rolling about his room in great agony," and 
 the ladies and gentlemen of his acquaintance were moved 
 to inquire whether such conduct did not betoken some 
 embarrassment of his affairs. 
 
 Besides his residence in St. James's Street, Mr. Maclaine 
 found it convenient to have a^nother place of resort, a 
 country lodging at Chelsea. Here he appointed to repay 
 a sum of twenty pounds which he had borrowed from a 
 confiding citizen's wife with whom he had an intrigue — an 
 indulgence in honesty which he was the better able to afford 
 as he had arranged, without the lady's knowledge, that his 
 friend Mr. Plunkett should meet her on her return to 
 London. This was not the only trick Mr. Maclaine played 
 upon those who had some reason to expect better treatment 
 at his hands, for having, in company with Mr. Plunkett, 
 taken to the Chester road, he robbed among others an 
 intimate acquaintance by whom he had but two days before 
 been most hospitably entertained in London. Immediately 
 upon their return from this expedition the confederates 
 learned that an officer of the East India Company's service 
 was upon the point of setting out for Greenwich with a 
 large sum of money in his possession. They succeeded in 
 waylaying and robbing him, but certain circumstances 
 connected with this exploit filled Mr. Maclaine with more 
 than usual apprehension, and he judged it advisable to 
 prescribe change of air both for himself and his companion. 
 Accordingly, having previously divided their booty, early in 
 the year 1749 they set out — Mr. Maclaine to visit his brother 
 at the Hague, and Mr. Plunkett to confer a similar favour 
 upon his own and his friend's relatives in Ireland. The 
 chaplain, who had hitherto been accustomed only to his 
 
MR, JAMES MACLAINE, 255 
 
 brother's claims upon his charity, expressed some surprise 
 at his altered circumstances, but James explained that he 
 had received a fortune with his late wife, and, in addition, 
 her father had been good enough to leave him a considerable 
 legacy. Mr. James Maclaine made himself extremely 
 popular among the good people of the Hague by the lavish 
 manner in which he entertained them, and if watches and 
 other trifles were missed by his guests, it was only by the 
 light of later information that they were able to date the 
 disappearance of their property from their acceptance of his 
 hospitality. 
 
 Mr. Maclaine appears to have left England before his 
 friend, for after his departure a letter arrived for him from 
 his sister, Anne Jane — " a very sensible and affectionate one," 
 writes Mr. Plunkett, "but nothing in it that you may not 
 hear soon enough at our meeting." For a time all went 
 well with Mr. Plunkett ; he spent several days, much to his 
 satisfaction, in Chester and Liverpool, " these being places 
 of spirit where they have assemblies," &c. In Ireland, 
 possibly because there was nothing much to steal, he did 
 not fare so well, and his letters to " Dear Jemmy " are, 
 except in one particular, anything but reassuring. He had 
 the misfortune to fall from his horse and dislocate his 
 shoulder — an injury, which, aggravated by a tumble in get- 
 ting over a stile, "very much obstructed his happiness"; 
 the said horse went blind, he was unable to dispose of 
 the watches he carried with him, he ran into debt, and 
 altogether, as he expressed it with more force than elegance, 
 he was " fretting his guts to fiddlestrings." He begged his 
 friend to desist from an amour in which he was engaged, 
 which could but result in the loss of time and money on his 
 part and of reputation on the part of the lady, and to give 
 his serious attention to the establishment of their fortunes 
 by means of a wealthy marriage. 
 
 This brings one to the only bright spot in Mr. Plunkett's 
 correspondence. Before leaving England he had " espyed 
 a doe of £40,000 enclosed in a park:" true, she was "in 
 some small measure despicable in pei'son," and there was 
 " a stern old fellow at the gate," but he thought "if a 
 
2S6 TWEL VE BAD MEN. 
 
 gentleman of figure and fortune were accidentally to meet 
 her at church and would promise to bring her to her 
 beloved London, he might have a chance of the prize." In 
 the meantime he was anxiously awaiting a remittance which 
 would enable him to rejoin his friend in England. Mr. 
 Maclaine, either wearied of the Hague or trusting to the 
 fame of his last exploit in this country having blown over, 
 had already returned, and having met with some success at 
 the gaming-tables, was able to supply his confederate with 
 the necessary funds, and they were once more united and at 
 liberty to start upon their matrimonial enterprise. 
 
 Having provided themselves with two horses and an 
 appropriate wardrobe, they set out, Mr. Maclaine in quality 
 of a peei' — of his own creation — and his companion as his 
 servant. They halted at an inn in the next village to that 
 in which resided " the deer that they should strike." The 
 father of the lady whom Mr. Maclaine intended to honour 
 with his attentions happened to be lord of the manor, and 
 the peer, having borrowed a gun, requested of him per- 
 mission to shoot, and laid the spoils of the chase, in the 
 shape of two woodcocks, at his feet. He also sought 
 opportunity to make his acquaintance by a diligent at- 
 tendance at the parish church, and one Sunday ventured 
 to address him, but the " stern old fellow " was true to Mr. 
 Plunkett's description of him, and received his advances in 
 anything but a conciliatory mood. Meanwhile Mr. Plunkett 
 on his side had not been idle ; he had gradually contrived to 
 worm himself into the confidence of the old gentleman's 
 butler and the maids of the house, and from one of the 
 latter he learned to his dismay that the father had dis- 
 covered Mr. Maclaine's business in that neighbourhood and 
 that he was no lord ; he had even gone so far as to call him 
 a sharping scoundrel and to threaten him with the stocks. 
 This intelligence determined Mr. Maclaine to raise the siege 
 and so, after three months thus wasted, the confederates 
 returned to London to resume their old occupation. 
 
 In the beginning of November, 1749, Mr. Maclaine per- 
 formed his most famous exploit. In company with Mr. 
 Plunkett he stopped and robbed Horace Walpole in Hyde 
 
MR. JAMES MACLAINE. 257 
 
 Park, at about ten o'clock, as he was returning from Holland 
 House. Upon this occasion he discharged the only shot 
 which he is recorded to have fired during the whole of his 
 career as a Gentleman Highwayman ; his pistol, owing no 
 doubt to the agitation occasioned by his conscience, went off 
 by accident, the ball passed through the top of the coach, 
 and Walpole's face was scorched by the explosion. Mr. 
 Maclaine afterwards protested that if his unlucky shot had 
 taken effect nothing would have prevented him from using 
 his remaining pistol upon himself — a declaration which 
 moved Walpole to ask if, in a certain contingency, he could 
 well do less than promise to be hanged. Upon his return to 
 his lodgings the ingenuous Mr. Maclaine wrote two letters 
 to his victim, apologising for having been compelled by 
 disappointment in a matrimonial scheme to resort to this 
 method of raising supplies, and offering him a chance of 
 redeeming any trifles which he might happen to particularly 
 value. To this end he appointed a meeting at Tyburn at 
 twelve o'clock at night; Mr. Plunkett attended on behalf of 
 the confederates, but Walpole, satisfied probably with one 
 escape, failed to put in his appearance. 
 
 Details of the exploits of these gentlemen during the 
 early months of 1750 are lacking, but one may safely assume 
 that they were not idle. The end, however, was at hand. 
 Upon the 26th of June they set out upon the road to 
 Brentford, and between that place and Staines they stopped 
 the Salisbury coach. Mr. Maclaine, though he was the 
 instigator of this particular expedition, lagged behind as 
 usual until the eloquent voice of his conscience was drowned 
 by the reproofs of Mr. Plunkett. Once on the spot, and 
 convinced that there was no chance of meeting with any 
 resistance, he was loud in his threats as to what would most 
 certainly befall the passengers if they presumed to conceal 
 any of their property. There were five gentlemen and a 
 lady travelling by the coach, whom the confederates obliged 
 to dismount and deliver up all that they had, and then, 
 having, with the assistance of the driver, put up before them 
 on their horses two cloak-bags which were contained in the 
 boot, they allowed their victims to continue their journey. 
 
 18 
 
2s8 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 On the same morning they encountered and stopped Lord 
 Eglinton in the neighbourhood of Hounslow. Mr. Maclaine 
 stood in front of the horses, taking care to shelter himself 
 behind the post-boy, while Mr. Plunkett, thrusting a pistol 
 through the glass at the back of the chaise, threatened to 
 blow his lordship's brains through his face if he did not 
 immediately throw to the ground a double-barrelled blunder- 
 buss with which he was armed. Lord Eglinton thought it 
 prudent to comply, and was robbed of his portmanteau and 
 forty guineas. 
 
 Among the passengers by the Salisbury coach was one 
 Mr. Josiah Higden, who immediately took steps to adver- 
 tise his loss and describe his property in the public papers. 
 Now either Mr. Maclaine had no time to read the papers, 
 or he was destined to bf a more than ordinarily striking 
 example of the truth of the saying, " Quern Deus vult 
 perdere, prius dementat," for on the 19th of July he went to 
 the shop of a Mr. Loader in Monmouth Street, and leaving 
 his address with him requested him to call and negotiate 
 for the purchase of some wearing apparel. 
 
 Mr. Loader came and took away with him certain articles 
 which Mr. Maclaine offered for sale, but when he reached 
 home he was struck by the similarity which the gold lace he 
 had just bought, bore to some which he had himself sold to 
 Mr. Josiah Higden. His suspicions moved him to send for 
 that gentleman ; he came, and there followed a warrant for 
 the apprehension of Mr. Maclaine. On the 27th of July the 
 constable succeeded in finding Mr. Maclaine at home : he 
 was taken before Mr. Lediard at his house in New Palace 
 Yard, and by him committed to the Gatehouse. The 
 contents of Mr. Maclaine's lodgings were eloquent of his 
 profession and character. The officers discovered there 
 clothes and other property, afterwards identified as 
 belonging to Mr. Higden and his fellow-passengers by the 
 Salisbury coach, and to Lord Eglinton, the latter's re- 
 doubtable double-barrelled blunderbuss, twenty-three purses 
 of various descriptions, besides pistols and a great many 
 rich suits which were allowed to be part of Mr. Maclaine's 
 own stock-in-trade— the whole in charge of a lady who 
 appears to have been better known than respected. 
 
JAMES MACLAINE AT THE BAR. 
 
MR. JAMES MACLAINE. 259 
 
 All London rang with talk of Mr. Maclaine, his exploits 
 and his handsome person, and Mr, Lediard's house pre- 
 sented the appearance of a theatre upon the occasion of 
 the examination of the Gentleman Highwayman before him. 
 
 Arranged upon a table were the various articles that had 
 been found at Mr. Maclaine's lodgings, and the Earl of 
 Chesterfield, Lord Mountford, Lord Duncannon, and many 
 other " persons of distinction," including a number of 
 ladies, watched the proceedings with breathless interest. 
 The behaviour of the Gentleman Highwayman upon this 
 occasion, however edifying as an exhibition of the working 
 of a remorseful conscience, was scarcely consistent with the 
 self-restraint which is expected in a gentleman, or evpn that 
 honour which is supposed to obtain among thieves. He 
 whined and wept, offered to betray his friend Mr. Plunkett 
 to save his own life, and when his offer was refused made 
 a full confession (which he later on attempted to disclaim) 
 not only of tiie crime with which he was charged, but of all 
 the other robberies in which he had been engaged. At the 
 end of his examination he was committed to take his trial at 
 the Old Bailey, and was again removed to the Gatehouse in 
 charge of a sergeant's guard, for so great was his popularity 
 it was feared there might be some attempt at a rescue. 
 The ladies who had accompanied him with their tears 
 during the hearing conveyed to him more substantial proof 
 of their sympathy in the shape of a purse of gold, and up . 
 to the time of his trial he was daily visited by a crowd of 
 persons of fashion who contributed liberally to his support 
 Prominent among his comforters were Lady Caroline 
 Petersham, afterwards Countess of Harrington, and Miss 
 Ashe. Whether these ladies had any belief in his inno- 
 cence, or were of opinion that the fact that he was a 
 highwayman was an additional attraction in his personality, 
 it is impossible to say, but they earned for themselves the 
 names of " Polly " and " Lucy " from Horace Walpole, who 
 asked Lady Caroline if their protege did not sing with 
 Captain Macheath : — 
 
 " Thus I stand like the Turk, with his doxies around." 
 
26o TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 This question led to the publication of a print (one of many 
 in which Mr. Maclaine was the principal figure) in which 
 the ladies were represented supporting the " lovely thief " 
 on either side. Lord Mountford too, with half the members 
 of White's, prompted no doubt by curiosity as to one who 
 had so lately been their neighbour, visited Mr. Maclaine in 
 the Gatehouse. He was removed from this place of con- 
 finement to Newgate on the 7th of September, and on the 
 13th at twelve o'clock he was put upon his trial. He had 
 the assistance of counsel, but his defence, such as it was, 
 was read by himself. Mr. Loader proved the sale of the 
 clothes, which Mr. Higden identified as his property, though 
 he was unable to swear to the persons who had robbed him. 
 Mr. Maclaine's account of the manner in which he became 
 possessed of the said clothes was ingenious. It all arose 
 from the generous manner in which he had behaved to 
 one Mr. Plunkett, to whom, while he was engaged in the 
 " grocery way," he had advanced sums amounting in all 
 to £100. Pressed to discharge his obligation, Mr. Plunkett, 
 who had induced him " to believe that he had travelled 
 abroad, and was possessed of clothes and other things 
 suitable thereto," prevailed upon him to accept payment 
 partly in goods and partly in money. Among the goods 
 were included these very clothes which Mr. Maclaine con- 
 fessed that he did sell, " very unfortunately, as it now 
 appears, little thinking they were come by in the manner 
 Mr. Higden hath been pleased to express." The con- 
 tracting of this debt and the manner of payment being 
 matters of a private nature, it was hardly to be expected 
 that he should be able to produce witnesses to the truth 
 of his story. Unfortunately there remained his rash con- 
 fession, and Mr. Maclaine's manner of dealing with this 
 was hardly likely to appeal to the most sympathetic of 
 juries, though in concluding his address he claimed to 
 have accounted for it. It was very true, he said, that 
 when he was first apprehended the " surprise confounded 
 him, and gave him a most extraordinary shock : it caused 
 a delirium and confusion in his brain which rendered him 
 incapable of being himself, or knowing what he said or did : 
 
MR. JAMES MACLAINE. 261 
 
 he talked of robberies as another man would do in talking of 
 stories ; but after his friends had visited him in the Gate- 
 house, and had given him some new spirits, and when he 
 came to be re-examined before Justice Lediard, and was 
 asked if he could make any discovery of the robbery, he 
 then alleged that he had recovered his surprise, that what 
 he had talked of before concerning robberies was false and 
 wrong, and was entirely owing to a confused head and 
 brain." Nine gentlemen — one " — Barlowe, Esq." is the 
 only person named — were called to speak to the good cha- 
 racter of the prisoner, but in spite of their evidence the 
 jury found him guilty without leaving the box, and by 
 half-past one it was all over. From this point the interest 
 in Mr. Maclaine rather increased. On the Sunday following 
 his conviction three thousand people are said to have visited 
 him in Newgate, and he twice fainted owing to the heat of 
 his cell. On the 20th of September he was brought up, with 
 the other prisoners convicted at the sessions, to receive 
 sentence; he came provided with an appeal for mercy, 
 which had been written for him by one of his friends, but 
 after repeating the first few words of it, he stopped — there 
 was a profound silence for three or four minutes, broken at 
 last by the cry, " My Lord, I can go no further ! " and Mr, 
 Maclaine received sentence of death. 
 
 " But soon his rhetorick forsook him, 
 When he the solemn hall had seen, 
 A sudden fit of ague shook him, 
 
 He stood as mute as poor Macleane." 
 
 So writes Gray in his "Long Story," but though the 
 Gentleman Highwayman could say so little for himself, 
 petitions in his favour were started on all sides. One was 
 forwarded to the King, who was then in Hanover, and was 
 by him referred to the Lords of the Regency, and another 
 was presented to the Duke of Bedford. Archibald Maclaine, 
 who had written more than one letter expressive of his deep 
 concern at his brother's disgrace, was reported to have 
 arrived in London to intercede on his behalf ; this does not 
 appear to have been the fact, though no doubt he exercised. 
 
262 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 according to his promise, such influence as he possessed to 
 preserve his life. But the Government was determined not 
 to encourage Gentlemen Highwaymen, and the following 
 extract from The General Advertiser, of September 24, 1750, 
 is a very good indication of the attitude of the Press : " We 
 hear that great interest is making for all the 16 male- 
 factors condemned the last sessions at the Old Bailey. For 
 some, because they are young, and for others because they are 
 old : for some because they have good Friends, and for others 
 because they are friendless: for some because they are hand- 
 some, and the Objects of liking, and for others because they 
 are so ugly that they are the objects of compassion : for 
 some because they have kept good company and are well 
 known, and for others because they were never heard of 
 before. At the same time we are informed that the 
 robberies committed within a week last past in and about 
 this Town do at the highest computation amount to scarce 
 200." 
 
 With the remainder of Mr. Maclaine's career it is some- 
 what difficult to deal. Professing himself a Presbyterian, he 
 sent the day after his conviction for Dr. Allen, a minister of 
 that persuasion, who attended him up to the night before his 
 execution. Dr. Allen published the usual edifying account of 
 the condemned man's behaviour, and seems to have been 
 impressed with the sincerity of his repentance, so perhaps 
 it is hardly for us at this date to cast any doubts upon 
 it. His love of pleasure and of a gay appearance, Mr. 
 Maclaine said, had undone him. He lamented that he had 
 not been brought up to some employment which would have 
 made industry necessary, instead of writing and accompts 
 which as a genteeler business was chosen for him. " I have 
 often thought," he continued, " when in my necessity and 
 innocence that had I had a mechanic Trade in my hands 
 that would have employed my whole time, altho' I could 
 have earned by it but ten shillings a week, I had been an 
 happy man." These and similar reflections he delivered in 
 such a manner as to induce Dr. Allen to testify that " he 
 was really a man of good natural sense, and had an handsome 
 elocution." Early on the morning of the fatal day, 
 
MR. JAMES MACLAINE. 263 
 
 Wednesday, October 3rd, Mr. Maclaine wrote his last 
 letter to the friend to whom he had entrusted the 
 carrying out of his wishes with respect to the few trifling 
 articles that remained to him. Two books, an inkhorn, and 
 a seal he desired should be carried with his blessing to his 
 good old landlady in Chelsea ; a Bible, a leaf having been 
 first torn out, was to be given to some member of Dr. 
 Allen's family, and his sleeve-buttons to " poor N. B., with 
 my last blessing to her " ; his shoe-buckles his mother-in- 
 law had begged for his child — he thought it unnecessary, 
 but was willing to indulge her in it. He desired that 
 a letter should be written to his sister, and that his 
 *' Life" should be done as -soon as possible "in a modest, 
 penitent manner," and that his child should share in the 
 proiits of it, if there were any. Then, with a prayer that 
 his friend would take all necessary precautions to prevent 
 his body from becoming a prey to the surgeons, Mr. 
 Maclaine concluded his letter " within eleven hours of 
 eternity." 
 
 It was expected that he would be allowed, in consideration 
 of his quality, to take his last journey in a coach, but the 
 authorities, as if to disappoint this very expectation, at the 
 end of September issued an order that for the future 
 criminals should not be allowed to go in coaches to 
 Tyburn. Accordingly Mr. Maclaine made one in a party 
 of three who occupied the last cart in the melancholy 
 procession from Newgate, his immediate companions being 
 William Smith (also the son of an Irish clergyman) con- 
 victed of forgery, and one Sanders, who had stolen a metal 
 watch. Twelve criminals in all suffered upon this occasion, 
 which was also signalised by the reappearance of Mr. John 
 Thrift, the hangman, who, owing to his having unofficially 
 put an end to the existence of one of his Majesty's subjects, 
 had for some time past been living in seclusion. A greater 
 concourse of people had never been seen at Tyburn, but if 
 they came expecting any startling demonstration on the part 
 of Mr. Maclaine they must have been disappointed, for he 
 only spoke to pardon the constable who had arrested him, 
 and to utter a prayer for the forgiveness of his enemies, of 
 
264 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 whom he was himself the chief, if not the only one. His 
 body, having been first taken to the house of one Harrison, 
 an undertaker in Clare Market, is said to have been buried 
 at Uxbridge. Thus, in the twenty-sixth year of his age, died 
 Mr. James Maclaine, who without, as far as one can see, 
 a single quality which could appeal even to the most per- 
 verted imagination, has exceeded in interest all malefactors 
 of his class. The Ordinary of Newgate who attended him 
 at the place of execution puts the finishing touch to the task 
 of stripping him of any attraction he might be supposed to 
 possess. He was, says the Ordinary, " in person of the 
 middle size, well-limbed, and a sandy complexion, a broad 
 open countenance pitted with the small-pox, but though he 
 was called the Gentleman Highwayman, and in his dress 
 and equipage very much affected the fine gentleman, yet to 
 a man acquainted with good breeding that can distinguish 
 it from impudence and affectation there was very little in 
 his address or behaviour that could entitle him to that 
 character." 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD, 
 
 " FIGHTING FITZGERALD." 
 
 (1748-1786.) 
 "Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire. 
 
 What ! shall we have incision ? shall we imbrue ? " 
 
 King Henry IV., Part II., Act. II., ,Sc. iv. 
 
 IT would have been strange indeed had the offspring of a 
 Fitzgerald and a Hervey been an ordinary, harmless, 
 humdrum citizen — one whose sire was a descendant of the 
 turbulent Norman-Irish Geraldines, and whose mother 
 belonged_^ to that family concerning whom Lady Mary 
 Wortley Montagu remarked, "God made menj women, 
 and Herveys." 
 
 A scion of this stock, George Robert Fitzgerald, was born 
 some time in the year 1748. The place of his nativity was 
 Rockfield House, in the fertile vale of Turlough, County 
 Mayo, some two miles to the north of its assize town, Castle- 
 bar. There the family had lived since the time of Cromwell, 
 having been transplanted thither from Kildare in the distant 
 south. Their annals were not eventful. Mr. George Fitz- 
 gerald, father of the subject of this memoir, is said to have 
 inherited a clear three thousand per annum as the produce 
 of the Turlough property ; but he very soon made havoc of 
 his resources, and became, by the wretchlessness of his 
 unclean living, an object of detestation to his wife's noble 
 relatives. 
 
 The Lady Mary Fitzgerald, who had been maid of honour 
 
 265 
 
266 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 to the Princess Amelia, was, one may well believe, " eccen- 
 tric " ; still, it was scarcely evidence of a defect of character 
 that she was incapable of enduring throughout her life the 
 ill-usage of her husband. In consequence of this, she, 
 taking her elder son George with her, returned to her own 
 family, and was immediately replaced in the Fitzgerald 
 household by a Miss Norris, whose machinations had 
 much to do with the dissensions which arose subsequently 
 in that establishment. A younger son, Charles Lionel, was 
 left behind with his father and this lady — these three form- 
 ing a triple alliance against George Robert, the heir to the 
 Turlough estates. 
 
 That individual was in due course sent to Eton, where he 
 picked up a fair collection of classical crumbs, and there- 
 after received a commission in the army. He began the 
 recorded exploits of his life in his quarters at Galway. One 
 day, having vaulted over the counter and snatched a kiss 
 from a milliner of gentle blood, he was challenged to his first 
 duel, being then sixteen, by the keeper of a neighbouring 
 shop. This plebeian the head of the Geraldines (for so he 
 considered himself) disdained, but must needs fight with a 
 Mr. French, who had brought the challenge. The parties 
 retired to a lonely public-house and locked themselves into 
 the parlour, but were interrupted before any harm had been 
 done. Fitzgerald's next affair, though still showing signs 
 of crudeness, marks a distinct advance in depravity. The 
 young captain having provoked continuously and beyond 
 endurance one of his subalterns, a quiet and very patient 
 man named Thompson, succeeded at length in being called 
 out by him. The meeting took place at five in the morning, 
 when Thompson again tried to accommodate matters, and 
 behaved in every respect like a brave man — but to no 
 purpose. At the second discharge Fitzgerald was struck by 
 a ball on the forehead, and was found by the neighbours 
 stretched on the ground, lamented over by his unwilling 
 antagonist, whom on coming to his senses Fitzgerald had 
 the grace to exculpate by acknowledging the gross manner 
 in which he had insulted him. The operation of trepanning, 
 which saved the young duellist's life, was, to the patient's 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 267 
 
 great comfort, performed without damage to his toupee. Mr. 
 Fitzgerald senior showed his joy at the safety of his yet 
 loved son by a tolerably determined attempt to run through 
 the body a relative who had come to condole with him on 
 his probable loss. This skull-wound may afford a plausible 
 .explanation of George Robert's subsequent career, although, 
 as has been remarked, "the descendant of a Hervey needed 
 not this physical aggravation." 
 
 It would appear that the young captain's appetite for 
 fighting was temporarily quelled, for soon after he let slip a 
 very promising chance of a duel. A certain Mr. Dillon, a 
 great talker, having been baulked by him of the lion's share 
 of the evening's conversation, addressed to him the following 
 very plain speech : " I lay down my watch on the table, and 
 if you attempt to say a word for one hour, I will make it a 
 personal matter unto you ; you understand me, young sir ! " 
 To the surprise of all present Fitzgerald waited until the 
 hour was over, and then began to talk again without showing 
 any sign of having been offended. 
 
 Fitzgerald, still in his teens, next went up to Dublin, 
 where he was received into the best society, less, perhaps, 
 on account of his fighting reputation than because of his 
 being a nephew of the Bishop of Derry. The ladies 
 thought him a most fascinating creature, and especially 
 Miss Conolly, sister of the Right Hon. Thomas, then 
 known in Ireland as " the Great Commoner." Though 
 this personage opposed a marriage, Fitzgerald continued to 
 make love fiercely, and ended by eloping with the lady. 
 Her family were soon appeased, and her husband got both 
 a fortune and a most tender and attached wife, who was 
 able while she lived to keep him, to some extent at any 
 rate, out of mischief. The newly-married pair went almost 
 immediately on the Continent. They were received at the 
 French Court, where our Hibernian made a great sensation 
 by his splendid extravagance and audacious feats. The 
 peaceful King Louis XVI. is said to have turned his face 
 from " this fine, fighting, froHcsome Irishman " ; but his 
 brother, the Comte d'Artois, appears to have found it to his 
 interest to do otherwise, and won three thousand louis from 
 
268 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 him at play. When, however, the latter, still owing him 
 the money, proceeded to bet against his hand at picquet, 
 the prince demanded payment, and being refused, literally 
 kicked the defaulter from Court. To wipe out this dis- 
 grace Fitzgerald appeared some time after at the royal stag- 
 hunt at Fontainebleau, where; amidst the shrieks of the ladies 
 and the astonishment of the gentlemen, he leapt after the 
 stag over a wall into the Seine, and brought it to bay on the 
 opposite bank. At Paris he met Rowan, the future United 
 Irishman, and tried, according to this person, to swindle him 
 out of a horse. Soon after, nevertheless, Rowan acted as 
 second to Fighting Fitzgerald in a duel which took place 
 near Lille, between Fitzgerald and a certain Major Baggs. 
 Rowan's account of the affair is curious. At the outset, 
 each being suspected by the other of being plastrone (that is, 
 of wearing mail underneath his clothes), had to submit to 
 an examination, after which the duel proceeded. " Major 
 Baggs sank on his quarters, something like the Scottish 
 lion ; Fitzgerald stood as one who had made a lounge in 
 fencing. They fired together, and were in the act of 
 levelling their second pistols, when Major Baggs sank on 
 his side, saying, ' Sir, I am wounded.' ' But you are not 
 dead,' replied Fitzgerald, and at the same moment dis- 
 charged his second pistol at his fallen enemy. Baggs 
 immediately started on his legs, and advanced on Fitz- 
 gerald, who, throwing his pistol at him, quitted his station, 
 and kept a zigzag course across the field, Baggs following 
 him. I saw the flash of the major's second pistol," con- 
 tinues Rowan, " and at the same moment Fitzgerald lay 
 stretched on the ground." The Irishman rose and wanted 
 to begin again, but at this point Baggs was taken to his 
 carriage. Rowan asked his principal how he came to 
 discharge his second pistol, to which he replied somewhat 
 tamely, "I should not have done so at any man but Baggs." 
 What was the nature of Fitzgerald's duelling ethics we 
 shall see later, both from his theory and in his practice. 
 Sir Jonah Barrington was certainly mistaken in fancying 
 him "too genteel to kill any man except with the broad- 
 sword." 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 269 
 
 Fitzgerald was disabled for a time after this, and when 
 he recovered went to London,^ where his name soon became 
 notorious in consequence of his general behaviour — his 
 extravagant style of living, his gaming propensities, and, 
 above all, his Hibernian swagger ; and particularly on 
 account of his connection with the Vauxhall affray. 
 
 This fracas, happening " in a period of the year (1773) 
 most barren -of consequential events " (Johnsonese for the 
 silly season) helped to enliven the columns of The Morning 
 Post, The Morning Chronicle, and other papers of the 
 period. 
 
 On Friday night, July 23rd, Mrs. Hartley, an actress, was 
 at Vauxhall in company with her husband (by whom she 
 set little store), and several other gentlemen, one of whom 
 was a clergyman named Bate. A party of Maccaronis, 
 among them Fitzgerald, came up and stared very rudely in 
 her face for some minutes, whereupon the parson took upon 
 himself to resent the insult, and received a challenge from 
 a certain Captain Crofts. Fitzgerald interrupted the arrange- 
 ments by claiming prior satisfaction for a Captain Miles, 
 described by him as his friend, but who was in reality a 
 hired chairman. 
 
 The affair with Crofts having been patched up, " Captain 
 Miles " now provokes Bate to a pugilistic encounter, to 
 which the clergyman, nothing loth, consents. The party 
 then adjourns to a room in a coffee-house, where " after a 
 fair set-to for about twenty minutes," the parson, who was 
 a powerful man, gains a decided victory. A few days later 
 Bate is knocked up in the small hours of the morning at 
 his chambers in Clifford's Inn, by Fitzgerald and a party of 
 hired bravoes, and an unsuccessful attempt is made to 
 entice him into the street, where no doubt he would not 
 have met with very tender usage. 
 
 A controversy now began between Bate in The Morning 
 Post (of which paper he soon after became editor) and Fitz- 
 
 ' How long he stayed in France, and when precisely his first wife, 
 who left a daughter, died, is not to be exactly ascertained from our 
 authorities. One account says she died in France, but in the 
 Walker controversy Fitzgerald writes as though she were still living. 
 
270 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 gerald in The Gazeteer, with which Timothy Brecknock, in 
 after-years so intimately mixed up in his affairs, was con- 
 nected. Mr. Bate had much the best of the matter, in 
 spite of the capital which his opponent made from the fact 
 of his being a clergyman and yet willing to fight a duel. 
 " Fighting Fitzgerald " himself refused to atone in any 
 such manner for his own conduct, and kept > *-y carefully 
 out of Bate's way. 
 
 From the few important contributions which appeared in 
 the course of the newspaper discussion it may be gathered 
 that while the affair was discreditable to all concerned, Fitz- 
 gerald and his associates, the notorious Tom Lyttleton and 
 Captain Crofts (whose courage in another case his colonel 
 was obliged to stimulate by a threat of cashiering), came 
 out by far the worst. Comments on the effeminate 
 appearance of our little Fitz are frequent in The London 
 
 Packet, where he is named " Miss Biddy F d." In the 
 
 same paper, however, there is just animadversion on the 
 conduct of the " Rev. Bruiser," with his " newspaper 
 sermons " and " artificially created public." Captain Miles, 
 according to this paper, was to have received twenty guineas 
 and to have been " raised to the military rank of butler " 
 had he been victorious, whereas in the event he only got 
 £io and was in bed for a fortnight. 
 
 The Rev. Henry Bate became soon after this affair curate 
 to James Townley, at Hendon. This exemplary clergyman 
 is said to have been educated at Oxford, but of the degrees 
 of M.A. and LL.D. which he 'claimed there is no record. 
 He resigned the editorship of The Morning Post in 1780, 
 when he started The Morning Herald. For a libel on the 
 Duke of Richmond in the former paper he was imprisoned. 
 In 1784 he assumed the name of Dudley. He was subse- 
 quently accused of simony. After holding several benefices 
 in Ireland he finally became rector of Willingham, Cam- 
 bridgeshire, and Prebendary of Ely, and in 1815 was created 
 a baronet. He was a friend of Garrick, and wrote libretti 
 for several of Shield's operas. Of him Dr. Johnson said to 
 Boswell, "Sir, I will not allow this man to have merit. 
 No, sir ; what he has is rather the contrary : I will indeed 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 271 
 
 allow him courage, and on this account we so far give him 
 credit." He married a sister of Mrs. Hartley. 
 
 A curious appendix to the Vauxhall affray is the following 
 from The, London Packet of August 21, 1773 : " Mrs. Hartley 
 was seen in Richmond Gardens last Sunday with another 
 lady and gentleman, and Mr. Moody the player ; who 
 wittily tool- and turned the lady about, when any person 
 looked at her, laughing and saying, ' You sha'n't see her ' ; 
 supposing to allude to the stale story of Captain Crofts' 
 looking at the beautiful actress." The opinion that was 
 held in England of Fighting Fitzgerald after the Vauxhall 
 affray may be judged from the fact that when Captain 
 Scarven of the Guards commented unkindly on his conduct 
 and was challenged for so doing, he was placed under 
 arrest by the officers of his regiment in order that he 
 " should not stoop so low as to go out with his antagonist." 
 His Majesty was left " to decide on the propriety of their 
 separate conduct in a military capacity." 
 
 The next episode in Fitzgerald's career was a pitiful quarrel 
 he had with a ruined habitue of the turf familiarly known as 
 " Daisey Walker." This individual was twitted by his oppo- 
 nent with having been the son of a glazier, but at this time 
 he is described as "Thomas Walker, Esq., Ci-devant Cornet 
 in Burgoyne's Light Dragoons." Before coming of age, he 
 had, on his own admission, run through a large fortune, and 
 had been obliged " to avoid the horrors of impending con- 
 finement " by retiring for a while to the Continent. During 
 his absence from England 1 itzgerald had been sold for a 
 small sum a note for £3,000 which Daisey had left undis- 
 charged, and on the return of the latter payment was re- 
 quested. As, however, he represented himself as a ruined 
 man, the fighting Hibernian agreed to cancel the note on 
 receiving the sum of £500. The money was paid, and the 
 transaction seemed complete ; but some time after, Fitz- 
 gerald, apparently in want of ready money, attempted to 
 raise some by demanding from Walker the balance of 
 £2,500, which he evidently thought that worthy capable of 
 paying. The latter denied the obligation, and meeting 
 Fitzgerald at the Ascot races received the blow provocative 
 
272 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 from his riding-whip. In due course a duel took place. 
 The Irishman received without injury his adversary's fire ; his 
 own pistol flashed in the pan, but on its being fired the second 
 time (seemingly an unusual practice, but not uncommon 
 with Fitzgerald), Walker was wounded in the shoulder, and, 
 declaring that he could not raise his arm, was borne off the 
 scene of combat. Before having his shot Fitzgerald offered 
 an apology for the blow he had given, and proposed not to 
 proceed with the matter, provided Walker could give un- 
 • deniable proof that his finances did not allow of his settling 
 the bill. At the same time, to temper generosity with 
 bravery, he offered to bet one thousand guineas he could kill 
 his man. Fitzgerald also wished for a second meeting, but 
 a paper war in the shape of an appeal to the Jockey Club by 
 both parties was all that followed. In this encounter also 
 the Irishman came off considerably the better. The facts 
 in dispute are hardly worth considering, but some examples 
 of the style of literary warfare indulged in by Fighting 
 Fitzgerald may be of interest. 
 
 In the course of the controversy he quotes the Laws of the 
 Twelve Tables and Publius Syrus, and writes confidentially 
 of " the Socratic tenet of trusting one's own Good Genius," 
 instructed by which " internal monitor," he declares he 
 " called Mr. Walker very seriously to account." Then he 
 gives the Jockey Club a short discourse on the nature of True 
 Courage, " upon the great outline of which " Fitzgerald tells 
 them it has been his constant study to form his character. 
 He concludes that it consists in moderation alone ; and he 
 himself, though confessing that " in the ebullition of youth, 
 when the passions are indomitable and the judgment not 
 ripened with full maturity," he had found this theory—" so 
 easy and beautiful" — almost impossible to carry into 
 practice, is yet proud to own that he has formed his 
 character " upon the line of manly, not of brutal courage." 
 But the brightest gem of the whole collection of this 
 moral bravo is the scientific exposition he gives of the art of 
 duelling, which we will venture to present in extenso. Reply- 
 ing to Daisey's charge of unfair manoeuvres during the late 
 encounter, the hero of eleven past combats writes naively : 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 273 
 
 " Of what benefit is theoretic knowledge if it is not to be 
 carried into practice at the only time it can be of effectual 
 service to us ? Accustomed to study arms not superficially 
 but scientifically, the moment you levelled your pistol at me, 
 at that very instant I made as outstretched an elonge as it 
 was possible for me to make, and by thus throwing myself 
 into a sideway position, I not only presented as little surface 
 of body as could be, but also lost full sixteen inches of 
 my natural height. Besides, by throwing myself into this 
 attitude, and by keeping my eye in a direct level with the 
 muzzle of your pistol, I was enabled to cover both my head 
 and heart from your fire, for the bullet must first have pene- 
 trated the palm of my hand before it could have reached 
 the lobes of my brain, and it must have perforated the 
 whole horizontal length of my right arm, which is almost 
 impossible, before it could have made its passage to my 
 heart. This, sir," he triumphantly adds, " is properly 
 understanding the science of arms as a Science ; and even 
 when you shall have advanced thus far there are a thousand 
 other fair advantages an Adept hath over a novice, which 
 no mercenary artist either will or can teach you, and which 
 are only to be acquired by intense study and private practice, 
 which, like a masked battery, should never be made known 
 to our adversary but by its sudden, unexpected effect." 
 
 This master of the duello also relates how he proved that 
 Walker had been padded in the late meeting, by firing from 
 twelve paces at a thick stick covered with a lined coat, two 
 lined waistcoats, and one double-milled surtout; with the 
 result that the bullet penetrated an inch deep into the stick. 
 " There is nothing like experimental philosophy for a fair 
 proof," he concludes; "it beats your ipse-dixits all hollow. 
 You see, sir, how ingeniously I pass away my private hours 
 — I am always hard at study — 
 
 ' Nunquam. minus solus, quant cum solus. ^ " 
 
 In whose favour the august arbiters of this important 
 dispute decided we do not gather. One authority tells us 
 that Fitzgerald fought a duel with one of them at Lille. 
 
 19 
 
274 TWEL VE BAD MEN. 
 
 As, however, this person's name was Scarven we are in- 
 clined to the view that both the individual and the quarrel 
 have already found their true place in this sketch. Be these 
 things as they may, the exploits of our Hibernian outside 
 his native isle have been recorded, and it is now necessary 
 to follow his fortunes in Ireland, whither he betook himself 
 early in the year of grace 1775.^ And, as he was now in the 
 heyday of life with some promise of a career before him, this 
 opportunity may be taken of seeing what kind of man he 
 appeared to his contemporaries. 
 
 Sir Jonah Barrington says of Fitzgerald : " A more 
 polished and elegant gentleman was not to be met with ; 
 his person was very slight and juvenile, his countenance 
 extremely mild and insinuating." Dr. Richard Martin, a 
 more hostile critic, gives a somewhat similar description : 
 " The elegant and gentlemanly appearance of this man as 
 contrasted with the savage treachery of his actions, was 
 extremely curious, and without any parallel of which I am 
 aware." From another source we learn that Mr. Fitzgerald 
 possessed a fund of legal knowledge and was a very good 
 orator. When his house at Turlough was looted by the 
 Castlebar mob, books to the value of over ^400 were claimed 
 in the inventory of damages. The articles of jewellery 
 which also appear, including a complete set of diamond vest 
 buttons, a diamond loop and button for a hat, and a hat-band 
 ornamented with five or six rows of pearls, show that he 
 did not neglect the adornment of the outer man. 
 
 Fitzgerald spent the next four or five years between his 
 house in Merrion Square, Dublin, and the family estates in 
 County Mayo. He was ambitious of taking part in public 
 affairs, and was doubtless encouraged in this ambition by 
 
 ' When referring to this controversy, which raised the question of 
 the private character of Fitzgerald, we must do that gentleman the 
 justice to remark that although his courage in the field, his honour 
 on the turf, and his credit on the Royal Exchange might not have 
 been altogether unimpeachable, yet that his conduct towards the 
 fair sex, which he claims to have been equally spotless, seems never, 
 at this time or afterwards, to have been brought up against him. 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 275 
 
 his brother-in-law, Conolly, and his uncle, the Earl of 
 Bristol and Bishop of Derry. 
 
 The last-named personage, who was the last of the martial 
 bishops, lodged at his nephew's house, and made him the 
 handsome present of a thousand pounds in return for his 
 hospitality, during the volunteer convention at Dublin. The 
 prelate rode up to the meeting in semi-warlike attire and 
 attended by a mounted bodyguard of young parsons. In 
 after-years the earl-bishop lived in Italy, and when sum- 
 moned to his see by the primate and two of his colleagues, 
 vouchsafed for answer the following only : — 
 
 " My Lords, 
 Three huge blue bottle flies sat upon three blown bladders ; 
 Blow, bottle flies, blow — burst, blown bladders, burst." 
 
 Such were the Herveys. 
 
 To return to the nephew. How Fitzgerald spent his 
 time in Dublin history sayeth not. It cannot, however, 
 be considered improbable that he fought many duels 
 there. According to Sir Jonah the year 1777 saw an 
 epidemic of duels in Ireland. One of the first questions 
 asked of the suitor for a young lady's hand was " Did 
 he ever blaze ? " Tipperary and Galway were, he in- 
 forms us, the ablest schools of the duelling science, the 
 former being " most scientific at the sword," the latter 
 " most practical and prized at the pistol " ; but Mayo, be it 
 noted, was held " not amiss at either." This, his native 
 county, George Robert Fitzgerald wished to represent in 
 Parliament. His father had come forward at the vacancy 
 in 1775; and "the Wilkes of Ireland," as he is fondly 
 termed by the author of " The Case," though defeated, ran 
 the Castle candidate very hard. George Robert then deter- 
 mined to enter the lists on his own account, and at the 
 Lent assizes of 1778 commenced his campaign by a state 
 entry into Castlebar. As a volunteer he was all for legis- 
 lative independence, but, on the other hand, as a narrow 
 Protestant, was against concessions to the Catholics. He 
 began his candidature magnificently : " A string of cars 
 
276 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 from the city of Dublin, of an amazing length, preceded the 
 company several days, loaded with the choicest articles the 
 metropolis could furnish necessary for the occasion — to them 
 succeeded in proper order cooks and confectioners of different 
 nations, sexes, and colours; sempstresses, taylors, mantua 
 makers, milliners, perfumers, hairdressers, musicians, fire- 
 workers, players, shoeblacks, and — five times the numbers 
 of beggars." 
 
 High holiday was kept in Castlebar for three days. Fitz- 
 gerald himself appeared " covered with a profusion of jewels." 
 The seat of his carriage was filled with guineas sealed up in 
 parcels of fifty each — " for he played nothing under." All 
 this no doubt was so much to the good ; but Catholic Mayo 
 was grievously offended when, for the purpose of creating 
 freeholders, Fitzgerald proceeded to invite a colony of 
 Presbyterians from Ulster to settle on his estate, promising 
 at the same time to build a chapel and endow a minister 
 for them. He also made himself unpopular by assisting in 
 enforcing the measures necessary for regulating the Con- 
 naught linen trade, and when Castlebar, as a place, had 
 become his fixed enemy, by attempting to injure its market 
 to the advantage of that of Turlough. For other reasons 
 also he became odious to the bulk of his neighbours ; but 
 apart from these Fitzgerald's hopes of a public career were 
 speedily doomed by the embroilment of his domestic affairs, 
 the causes of which must now be unfolded. 
 
 Let it be remarked, m passant, that George Robert had no 
 idea of letting his own chances of election for Mayo be pre- 
 judiced by his father's failure, which he attributed in a 
 speech to the electors, to " his parsimony and many had 
 qualities." The "parsimony" is easily explicable; and the 
 reference to the bad qualities, if somewhat unfilial, was true 
 enough. For Fitzgerald plre was a typical example of the 
 dissolute, spendthrift, utterly worthless Irish squire of the 
 day, always in debt and always in mischief. On his eldest 
 son's first marriage an agreement had been entered into 
 between father and son that the latter, on whom and his 
 heirs male the Turlough estate was entailed, should receive 
 an annual charge on the rents in consideration of a sum paid 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 277 
 
 down for the relief of the former's immediate necessities. 
 But when George Robert arrived from England not only 
 were there large arrears owing to him, but his interests as 
 heir had also been severely injured by the granting of long 
 leases on scandalously low terms, among others, to his 
 brother Charles Lionel, for whom his father now also seems 
 to have demanded a share in the inheritance of the property. 
 That the heir had no notion of yielding up any of his 
 rights is made clear by the reply of the servant girl who 
 found his superstitious old father praying (without his wig) 
 that his sons might be united in affection. Though " the 
 loaf" might, as the old reprobate said, be "sufficiently 
 ample " for both, if divided between them, in her opinion 
 such division was not practicable, and she told her master 
 to put on his wig and clothes and take his breakfast, for 
 " the prayers of the whole world would not prevail on her 
 young master to give up his birthright, or any part of it, to 
 Master Charles." In reality the father and younger son 
 were in league together against the heir; and harshly as the 
 ■old man was afterwards treated, he had to thank George 
 Robert about this time for saving him from lifelong im- 
 prisonment by paying a large sum in discharge of his debts. 
 •Circumstances and Fighting Fitzgerald's own diabolical 
 temper contributed to make of this family quarrel a source 
 of disturbance to the whole county of Mayo. 
 
 The death of his first wife was a heavy blow to George 
 Robert. He mourned for her extravagantly, and nearly 
 murdered an innkeeper who objected to having a foreign 
 corpse in one of his rooms which was occupied by Fitzgerald 
 •when journeying with the body to the family vault in Kil- 
 dare. His habits became gloomy and his behaviour savage. 
 He alarmed the neighbourhood by hunting at night, and 
 acquired a fondness for strange pets : of which latter circum- 
 stance more anon. His arrogance was something extra- 
 ordinary. He would send a man off the hunting-field solely 
 on account of a capricious objection to his person ; and on 
 one occasion refused to sit at table with a relative of his 
 host, because he, being a fat man, must needs, he averred, 
 be a gross feeder. Fitzgerald did, indeed, console himself by 
 
278 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 a second marriage, the lady being a Miss Vaughan. It is 
 probable enough that the match did not commend itself to 
 her family; but the story of her hand having been won 
 only by her lover's pretended conversion to Catholicism is 
 somewhat discredited by the fact that the Vaughans were 
 Protestants. Fitzgerald's affection for this lady and her 
 attachment to him seem indubitable ; but the statement 
 that his desire to effect a settlement on her was the chief 
 cause of quarrel with his father and brother may fairly be 
 doubted. 
 
 Besides numerous other general enmities, Fitzgerald had 
 a personal and political feud with the Browne family of 
 Mayo, of which Lord Altamont was the head. Not only 
 did Fighting Fitzgerald trespass on the property of that 
 nobleman, beat his keepers, and drive his kinsman off the 
 ground, but he even went up to his house and shot a large 
 mastiff of Lord Altamont's which was nicknamed " The 
 Prime Sergeant." Now the real Prime Sergeant was his 
 lordship's brother, Denis Browne. When, therefore, Fitz- 
 gerald announces in the market-place of Westport that he 
 had shot the Prime Sergeant, the people supposed Browne 
 to have been his victim. Whereupon Fitzgerald explains 
 to them his grim joke : " Gentlemen, don't be alarmed for 
 your big counsellor. I have shot a much worthier animal — 
 the big watchdog." After committing this outrage, he 
 left behind him at Westport House a considerate note to 
 the effect that " as he always felt for the ladies, he would 
 allow Lady Anne, Lady Elizabeth, and Lady Charlotte 
 Browne to have each one lap-dog." 
 
 All this was done to draw Browne into a duel ; and after 
 being called a coward before his servants, Denis consented 
 to a meeting. On his proposition, broadswords were agreed 
 upon as the weapon ; but as he was going forth to fetch a 
 second, Fitzgerald discharged a pistol-bullet in his face» 
 This put an end to all prospects of a fair fight, and the 
 matter was brought into the courts, where Fitzgerald only 
 escaped a heavy sentence by a mistake in the indictment. 
 
 Nor did Fitzgerald behave much better towards a 
 certain Mr. Caesar Ffrench, a Galway gentleman, who 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 279 
 
 had entered into the league against him, engaging in a sort 
 of predatory warfare with him by carrying off his cattle 
 and opposing to his armed followers a similar band of 
 desperadoes. After much provocation a duel took place 
 between them. Ffrench was wounded on the hip by Fitz- 
 gerald's sword, and the latter claimed the honour of the day : 
 but the fact was that he only saved his own life by faUing 
 to the ground when he was getting too hardly pressed by 
 the superior weight of his opponent, who thereupon quitted 
 the field. Once again the old charge is made against our 
 little duellist, one of the spectators declaring that he saw 
 Ffrench's sword bend on his waistcoat. 
 
 To return to the more immediate affairs of the Fitzgerald 
 family. George Robert, unable to obtain any satisfaction 
 from his father, obtained an order from the Court of Chancery 
 giving him possession of the family estate until his claim 
 should be met. He seized upon Rockfield House, and put 
 it into a state of defence, but found it difficult to collect any 
 rent from the tenants. Constant frays now ensued between 
 the party of the father and of the reversionary in possession. 
 Advantage was taken of one of these by George Robert's 
 opponents to indict him for riot. He was acquitted, but when 
 bound over to keep the peace was unable to find bail, and had 
 to avoid arrest by escaping from the jury room by the roof. 
 These proceedings, and the danger of the reversion of the 
 estate going to his brother, on account of his not himself 
 having a male heir, aroused the light slumbers of the devil 
 in Fitzgerald. He determined to separate Charles Lionel 
 and his father by taking possession of the latter's person. 
 He therefore had his affectionate old parent waylaid when 
 on a journey from Ballinrobe to Dublin, carried him off to 
 Turlough, and there kept him prisoner. Charles Lionel 
 now indicted his elder brother at the Mayo Assizes of 178a 
 for illegal imprisonment, and by order of the Court arrested 
 him in person, when sitting in the jury room as one of the 
 grand jurors. 
 
 It appeared at the trial which immediately took place at 
 Castlebar, and lasted from 9 a.m. till 12 at night, that 
 in order to induce his father to make a will in his favour. 
 
28o TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 George Robert had kept him chained to a block of wood and 
 had had three of his teeth knocked out. A sentence of three 
 years' imprisonment and a fine of ^i,ooo were passed, and in 
 spite of Fitzgerald's subsequent complaints of the unfairness 
 of the trial, the decision was upheld on appeal. But " the idea 
 of any kind of restraint was perfectly ungrateful to the mind of 
 Mr. Fitzgerald," who managed, after only four days' captivity, 
 to escape from Castlebar gaol by means of the combined 
 agency of a brace of pistols and a bag of silver. As soon as 
 he was outside the walls he leapt upon a horse and rode to 
 Turlough House, where old Fitzgerald was still confined. 
 Near here the Turlough volunteers had mounted a small 
 fort with cannon obtained from a foreign ship which had 
 been wrecked in Clew Bay, and Rockfield House was speedily 
 got ready to stand a siege. 
 
 Mr. Csesar Ffrench and his party not being quite equal to 
 the emergency, the Viceroy was appealed to, and a military 
 force was despatched from Dublin, while the volunteers of all 
 the neighbouring counties received orders to join in hunting 
 down the outlaw. Fitzgerald, finding the odds now too 
 heavy for him, having spiked his guns and dismantled his 
 fort, flew northwards to Killala, taking his father with him. 
 The story goes that, pressed thus on all sides by the emis- 
 saries of the law, he now crossed over into Sligo, and 
 embarked with the old man in a boat on the open sea ; and 
 that under stress of dire peril, the father once more con- 
 sented to terms, which, however, finding himself soon after 
 at liberty in Dublin, he immediately repudiated. In another 
 version George Robert gives up his father to Sir Maltby 
 Crofton, in order to save himself How this could be the 
 result (for his own life, according to Irish law, was forfeit for 
 prison breaking) is not easy to see; and how Fitzgerald 
 found himself in Dublin, when both the sea and the land 
 passes had been guarded to prevent his escape is not a little 
 mysterious. Nevertheless it is certain that the little des- 
 pera'do (for whose apprehension a reward of £300 was 
 offered), was easily arrested while walking about, "in a 
 careless and indifferent manner," in College Green. Once 
 more we find Fighting Fitzgerald wielding the pen ; for 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 281 
 
 during the hours of his imprisonment was produced his 
 •' Appeal to the Public " — an able manifesto filled with in- 
 numerable charges against his enemies, and particularly 
 Charles Lionel, his brother, whom he loaded with every 
 conceivable crime.' He remained some months in the New 
 Prison, but eventually received, probably through the efforts 
 of the Herveys, a free pardon. 
 
 The sole condition of the pardon seems to have been that 
 Lord Temple exacted a promise from Fitzgerald that he 
 should abstain from duelling. Nevertheless he was no 
 sooner free than he found it incumbent upon him to fight 
 a Galway lawyer, Mr. Richard Martin, who had insulted the 
 Ji'itzgeralds in general, and George Robert in particular, in 
 the course of the trial at Castlebar. 
 
 This worthy was a friend of the Brownes, and seems to 
 have been incited by them to take up the case of the younger 
 Fitzgerald and his father against George Robert. Barrington 
 received from the counsel a MS. account of the doings of the 
 family at this period. Martin was not unduly complimentary 
 to his clients ; for, in answer to the plea of " a battered old 
 counseller on the other side," to the effect that " it would be 
 unjust to censure any son for confining such a public nui- 
 sance " as Fitzgerald pere, he remarked that " though be- 
 lieving that in the course of a long life this wretched father 
 had committed many crimes, yet the greatest crime against 
 society and the greatest sin against Heaven that he ever 
 perpetrated, was the having begotten the traverser 1 " George 
 Robert smilingly replied, " Martin, you look very healthy, 
 you take good care of your constitution ; but I tell you that 
 you have this day taken very bad care of your life." 
 
 This last recorded fight of Fighting Fitzgerald was a truly 
 typical one. The affair began in the streets of Castlebar 
 (Martin having previously been insulted in a Dublin theatre), 
 
 ^ Many of the accusations were undoubtedly true ; but though in 
 the lifetime of his elder brother Charles Lionel seems to have been 
 fully his equal in lawless behaviour, yet when he had entered into his 
 inheritance he appears to have become quite an orderly member of 
 society. 
 
282 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 where Fitzgerald " enthused " the mob by declaring the duel 
 a county match — the Mayo Cock against the Galway Cock. 
 The duellists, amid shouts of " Mayo for ever ! " retire to a 
 barrack-yard; and in the combat which follows Fitzgerald 
 illustrates his principles of duelling. Colonel Dick having 
 just shot a man quite fairly, extraordinary precautions 
 seemed necessary. Accordingly, when pistols were levelled 
 at a distance of nine yards, Fitz suddenly proposes, "for 
 quick work sake," that they should both advance two 
 paces. His experience taught him that a pistol loaded for 
 one distance will not be so sure for another. Then, again, 
 knowing the value of disconcerting a first aim, he interrupts 
 action a second time with a " Stop, I am not prepared ! " 
 Nor was this all. The first shots were fired without 
 effect : by Martin's second Fitz is hit in the breast. His 
 opponent now considered that he had seriously, if not 
 mortally, wounded his man, when suddenly up springs 
 Fitzgerald, takes elaborate aim, and exclaiming, " Hit for a 
 thousand," shoots Martin also in the body. Neither wound 
 appears to have been fatal, though, according to one account, 
 horse pistols were used ! ^ 
 
 Fitzgerald took down with him from Dublin, as law 
 adviser, a notorious person named Timothy Brecknock, 
 who waged his wars against Patrick McDonnell, the legal 
 champion of Charles Lionel and his faction. A would-be 
 predecessor of Mr. Brecknock, a certain Mr. T., had parted 
 company with his client after a very short experience of 
 that gentleman's amusing qualities. This person, on get" 
 ting into the chaise at the gate of Phoenix Park, was 
 astonished to find not only Fitzgerald, but also a strange 
 bulky gentleman. This gentleman he could by no means 
 get to move, so that he was sorely pressed for room. On 
 arriving at Kilcock Fitzgerald asked for some raw meat 
 for the foreign gentleman, whom the lawyer now saw to be 
 
 ' Can this be the same duel (the preceding circumstances are the 
 same) of which another authority writes : " Mr. Fitzgerald and Mr. 
 Martin afterwards met, and fought a duel, in which neither party 
 received any hurt " ? The plating hypothesis would here afford an 
 easy explanation. 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 283 
 
 wrapped in a blue travelling cloak with a great white cloth 
 tied over his head. "When the solicitor saw his companion's 
 face he was so much alarmed that he screamed and awoke 
 him ; whereupon their faces touched. The stranger was a 
 Russian bear which had been brought up by Fitzgerald ! 
 "When after this the animal obeyed his master by giving the 
 lawyer a kiss, accompanied by a roar, Mr. T. struggled from 
 the grasp of his client, broke open the carriage door, and 
 made his way across country, as best he could, to Dublin. 
 
 Mr. Timothy Brecknock, Fitzgerald's present legal adviser, 
 had had a chequered career. The son of a "Welsh bishop, 
 he was educated at Jesus College, Oxford, with a view to the 
 Church. In consequence of certain speculative doubts he 
 had, however, adopted the profession of the law, which he 
 combined with the pursuits of a man of pleasure. In his 
 early days this gentleman is said to have " obtained great 
 credit with the people in general " at the expense of the 
 judges by coming into the Court of King's Bench and 
 making use of an obsolete statute to extort a fine from 
 Lord Mansfield and his brethren for wearing cambric. A 
 greater exploit was the successful defence he set up of a 
 highwayman, whose acquittal after a full confession to him- 
 self of his guilt he obtained by the following trick. At the 
 trial the testimony as to identity was based chiefly on the 
 recognition of both the prisoner and his horse by the light of 
 the moon, the crape mask worn by the former having fallen 
 off while he was forcing open the door of the coach he was 
 about to rob. This, in connection with the rest of the 
 evidence, seemed to make a clear case, when counsel for the 
 prisoner produced a copy of Ryder's Almanack, according to 
 which the moon did not rise till more than three hours after 
 the time when it was sworn the robbery had been com- 
 mitted. Some time afterwards it was discovered that in 
 this copy the lunations had been tampered with, and that, to 
 make the imposition complete, several other copies, con- 
 taining similar alterations had been distributed in the 
 Court. 
 
 Brecknock had also been employed as a political pam- 
 phleteer, and had had a book advocating Divine Right burned 
 
284 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 by the hangman. But at that point in his career at which we 
 have now arrived he was a religious enthusiast, who let his 
 beard grow, lived on bread and vegetables only, and preached 
 the millenium. Among his peculiar doctrines one was the 
 nobleness of revenge ; and, as he believed that he was now 
 for ever freed from sin, no matter what his actions might 
 be, and was withal a man of undoubted ability, he seemed 
 marked out by Heaven (or hell) as the adviser of Fighting 
 Fitzgerald. It is an instance of the cruel irony of fate that 
 this regenerated creature, as he journeyed by coach from 
 London to Holyhead on his way to Ireland, was objected to 
 on account of his mischievous beard by a maiden lady of 
 mature age, and had to ride outside the vehicle. 
 
 Another ally of Fitzgerald's was the son of a Carrick- 
 fergus turnkey, Andrew Craig, or Creagh, by name, but called 
 in Mayo " Scots Andrew." Before becoming gentleman's 
 servant he had been blacksmith and horseboy, and had seen 
 much of Irish life. Many are the stories told of him : how, 
 before being dismissed by one of his masters, he had one 
 night lured the old gentleman into a bog by imitating the 
 lowing of a favourite cow ; how, by raising the cry of fire, 
 and thus calling away master and guest from the festive 
 board, he had managed to partake of the deserted wines; 
 and how, having by means of a bolster evaded the chastise- 
 ment merited by his roguery, he had yet pretended to die 
 from the effects thereof, and spread consternation at the wake 
 by rising at midnight from the dead. Scots Andrew and 
 Brecknock played equally prominent though very different 
 roles in the tragedy of Fitzgerald's end, which was now 
 approaching. The great protagonist of the adverse party 
 was a Mayo attorney, Patrick Randell McDonnell. One 
 great cause of the bitter enmity borne him by George 
 Robert Fitzgerald was the fact that he, an obscure civi- 
 lian, had been a successful candidate against himself, an 
 ex-captain in his Majesty's service, and, moreover, the 
 head of the Geraldine family, for the colonelcy of the 
 Mayo legion of volunteers. But there were other springs 
 of mutual ill-feeling, arising to a great extent from the 
 similarity of their characters and circumstances. Mr. 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 285 
 
 Alexander McDonnell was an even worse father than Mr. 
 George Fitzgerald. He hated his son Patrick, because his 
 estate was entailed on him, and drove him to the protec- 
 tion of a maternal uncle who educated his nephew as an 
 attorney. Patrick soon showed appreciation of his training, 
 when on coming of age he learned that a property of ^^300 
 a year left him by an uncle had been fraudulently disposed of 
 by his own father. Learning that the will had been placed 
 in the hands of the purchaser of the estate, the young lawyer 
 entered the house of that person in his absence, broke open 
 the black box in which it was hid, and carried off his title- 
 deeds. McDonnell senior prosecuted his son for burglary, 
 but was defeated with contumely, and Patrick, by subsequent 
 process, proved his title and obtained possession of the estate, 
 which he dubbed, in memory of his prowess. Chancery Hall. 
 Now this property almost adjoined the Fitzgerald estate 
 at Turlough. The neighbours were also cousins ; and Mr. 
 Patrick Fitzgerald, who brought up the young McDonnell, 
 had entertained George Robert when houseless. The latter, 
 in return, had been expected to renew a profitable lease held 
 by his host from him, but had refused. This grudge was 
 cherished by the nephew, who had also obtained from old 
 Fitzgerald an easy lease. He took his revenge by success- 
 fully pushing the claims of two ladies named Dillon on 
 George Robert's estate, and by acting as adviser to the 
 league of Charles Lionel and the tenantry against him. The 
 rivals were alike fierce and revengeful. Fitzgerald was a 
 Protestant, McDonnell "but one remove from a Papist," 
 since his father had only read his recantation in order to 
 obtain some property. In view of the rancorous hatred 
 borne by these men to one another, it appears strange that 
 they never came to a duel. The only explanation of this 
 fact is that Fitzgerald was deterred by family pride from 
 meeting one who, though he happened by marriage to be his 
 cousin, he yet deemed infinitely his inferior in birth. Assas- 
 sination, aided by Connaught law, was the method of revenge 
 contemplated by both. Who was the actual aggressor may 
 be doubted : for each had been heard to express a wish to 
 shoot the other. However, McDonnell was first wounded in 
 
286 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 the leg (or pretended to be so), and retired to Castlebar for 
 safety. On the other hand, a man whom he imprisoned in 
 a private house (he was a Connaught magistrate), as an 
 alleged assassin employed by Fitzgerald, swore afterwards 
 that he had been offered ;£"300 to make that identical charge. 
 
 It is probable that Fitzgerald designed his enemy's death 
 by some manner of law, as that term was understood by 
 Brecknock and practised in Connaught. Warrants were 
 procured against McDonnell and two of his friends from a 
 magistrate named O'Mealey (whose judicial character was 
 seemingly not worthy of great respect), for imprisoning the 
 man Murphy, who has been mentioned, and for shooting 
 some of Fitzgerald's dogs. The head constable and his party 
 were backed in the execution of their office by a gang of 
 Fitzgerald's boys, and an opportunity for the arrest was 
 seized upon when, on February 20th, McDonnell, Andrew 
 Gallagher, a Castlebar apothecary, and Hipson (against 
 whom the Squire of Turlough had an old grudge), were 
 making an expedition from Castlebar to Chancery Hall. 
 The three friends took refuge in a house on the way, but 
 were taken and carried off to Turlough for the night, 
 McDonnell, scarcely yet recovered from his recent wound, 
 being dragged forth from a heap of malt in which he had 
 hidden himself. 
 
 Andrew Gallagher alleged at the trial that during that 
 night he overheard orders given to Craig and the rest, 
 " that if they saw any rescue, or chance of a rescue, to be 
 sure and shoot the prisoners and take care of them " ; that 
 Fitzgerald said, " Ha ! we shall soon be rid of them now," 
 and Brecknock replied, " Oh, then we shall be easy indeed." 
 
 The evidence that this conversation could have been 
 overheard was somewhat weak ; but circumstances made 
 the existence of such a plan appear probable. ^ For, early 
 next morning, when the prisoners were being conducted, 
 as Fitzgerald said, to a magistrate, the rear of the pro- 
 cession was fired at, either by McDonnell's friends or, as 
 the informer asserted, by men hired for the purpose by the 
 
 ' Brecknock appears to have fished up an old law by which, if a 
 rescue were attempted, it was lawful to shoot prisoners. 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 287 
 
 Squire of Turlough. Hipson and Gallagher, who were 
 tied together, were immediately shot by their captors, and 
 the former killed; and McDonnell, as he fled with both 
 arms broken over the bridge of Kilnecarra, was pursued and 
 despatched by Scots Andrew. Gallagher was re-captured 
 and brought back to Turlough, but not further injured. 
 
 And now the country was up against Fitzgerald. The 
 Castlebar mob, accompanied by a troop of horse and some 
 volunteers, with a magistrate, arrived at Turlough House, 
 and speedily arrested Brecknock and the subordinate actors 
 in the affair. It was some time before Fitzgerald himself, 
 who had before their arrival made several attempts to mount 
 his horse and ride away (Brecknock had been for remaining, 
 to show a mens conscia recti), was discovered hidden amidst 
 a heap of blankets in a chest. He was with difficulty 
 protected from violence, but was at length brought off and 
 lodged in a room in Castlebar gaol. The crowd lingered 
 behind and ransacked his house, and one man is said to 
 have wrapped round him a hundred yards of fine linen. 
 Andrew Craig, the actual murderer of McDonnell, was taken 
 near Dublin, but saved his neck by turning King's evidence 
 at the trial, an attempt to poison him by mixing arsenic in 
 his food having first failed. Before the trial took place 
 another outrage was perpetrated. Just before midnight on 
 February 21st, the day on which he had been arrested, the 
 room where Fitzgerald was confined was broken into by a 
 party of men, who knocked down the sentinel and attacked 
 the unarmed prisoner with pistols and swords. 
 
 He fought desperately, but was only left by the assailants 
 when he was thought to be dead. Several persons accused 
 by Fitzgerald, among them, being Gallagher, his brother 
 the coroner who had headed the Castlebar mob, and Dr. 
 Martin, brother of the " Galway Cock," were prosecuted 
 by the Crown as perpetrators of the outrage ; but witnesses 
 were unable or unwilling to swear to their identity with the 
 assailants, and they were acquitted. Truly might it be said 
 that in this part of Ireland there was neither law nor police 
 in 1786. 
 
 On April 10, 1786, Chief Baron Yelverton and Mr. 
 
288 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Baron Power arrived at Castlebar to try George Robert 
 Fitzgerald and his associates. Two days later, that 
 individual, disabled by the forty-six wounds he is said 
 to have survived, was brought into court on his bed, 
 and laid on the witnesses' table. A true bill was found 
 by the grand jury against him together with Brecknock, 
 Craig, and six others " for traitorously murdering " 
 McDonnell and Hipson. The actual trials were put off 
 to allow time for Fitzgerald's further recovery. At length, 
 on Friday, June gth, this once splendid person appeared in 
 court in an old threadbare greatcoat, and with his head 
 shaved and tied up in a clean pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 It was observed, too, that " he smiled at every one, as 
 if he was in no way apprehensive of danger." The crowd 
 of people in court was so great that proceedings were 
 delayed by an alarm that the floor was falling, which 
 proved to be false, and looks as if it had been raised to 
 give a chance of escape to the prisoners. However, after 
 a discreditable scene, in which "judge, jury, and counsellors 
 ran promiscuously here and there," the trial began. 
 
 An attempt seems to have been made to keep out the 
 rabble, but failed ; and the people, " having prevailed by 
 bribes, entreaties, &c., the crowd was such that they were 
 sitting on each other's shoulders." Fitzgibbon as attorney- 
 general " seemed to be very intent for the prosecution." 
 It is said he had been struck two or three years before by 
 the little duellist in the streets of Dublin ; but it does not 
 appear that he was actuated by personal motives. The 
 charge he brought forward against Fitzgerald was that of 
 " provoking, stirring up, and procuring * certain persons ' to 
 kill and murder Patrick Randell McDonnell and James 
 Hipson." He supported it by three witnesses, but one 
 of these was the infamous Scots Andrew, who had really 
 done the deed on McDonnell. The evidence was certainly 
 not conclusive; but though Fitzgerald is said to have 
 spoken for three hours and to have made a most able 
 defence, calling witnesses to swear that he was not present 
 at the murder and did not assist it in any way, he was 
 found guilty by the jury after but seven minutes' deliberation. 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 289 
 
 He did not on that day receive sentence. On being 
 taken out of court he demanded, and was accorded, a 
 private conference with the high sheriff, who was his old 
 enemy, Denis Browne : but what was its nature did not 
 transpire. The result must, however, have been unsatis- 
 factory, for the convict, when he returned to his room, 
 "threw himself on his bed, and continued lying on his 
 face above three hours and a half without uttering a sound." 
 His mother. Lady Mary, had sent a sum of money to be 
 used for his defence, but at the same time declared that 
 she had no desire for her son's escape if he were guilty. 
 It is clear, however, that Fitzgerald himself expected to 
 get a pardon through the Hervey influence. 
 
 On the Monday following his trial Brecknock was con- 
 victed as an accessory before the fact, and the other 
 members of the Turlough gang for their several parts in it. 
 
 Sentence of death was now passed on Fitzgerald and 
 Brecknock, and ordered to be carried out that same day. 
 This haste seems to have been due to a fear that the first 
 would commit suicide. By some it was also said that his 
 enemies feared that respect for the law was not so great 
 in the assize town of County Mayo as to obviate any danger 
 to the carrying out of its decrees. Sentence, then, having 
 been delivered, Fitzgerald said a few words in which, after 
 protesting his innocence, he affirmed that he was not afraid 
 to meet death in any shape, and added, that he would not 
 accept of pardon, after having been found guilty " by such 
 a jury," because he knew he could not face the world after 
 it. He also denied having entertained any thought of 
 suicide, and declared that he forgave every one. 
 
 Brecknock was recommended to mercy on account of his 
 age — he was nearly seventy — but the presiding judge sent 
 him to execution, together with Fulton, the chief of the 
 subordinate assassins. These two suffered before their 
 patron. 
 
 Brecknock, with his long, white beard and firm bearing, 
 and " his hair neatly curled on his neck," must have been a 
 dignified criminal. He had made his peace with God, and 
 was not conscious of having committed a sin for fifteen 
 
 20 
 
290 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 years ; and he repeated the Lord's Prayer in Greek before 
 standing up in the cart and drawing the woollen cap over 
 his face. 
 
 George Robert himself, preceded by a masked executioner, 
 walked out at six o'clock by a by-lane to the place of exe- 
 cution. He was arrayed in an old uniform of the Castlebar 
 Hunt, and had on dirty shoes and stockings and a hat tied 
 with a hempen cord. This was the man who, a few short 
 years before, had been accustomed to dress in the newest 
 and most elegant Parisian modes. On arriving at the 
 scaffold, he asked eagerly, " Is this the place ? " When 
 answered that it was he shook hands with several of the 
 bystanders, mounted the cart, and having made the usual 
 preparations, adjusted the rope himself. He then called 
 for and joined in a brief prayer, and having again shaken 
 hands with Mr. Henry, the clergyman, and made the 
 customary request to the executioner, very suddenly flung 
 himself off. But the rope snapped, and Fitzgerald fell to 
 the ground, exclaiming, " Is it possible the grand jury of 
 Mayo will not afford me a rope sufficiently strong ? " The 
 high sheriff replied cheerily, " Never fear, you shall have 
 one strong enough, and speedily," and sent for another, 
 adding to the hangman, "Do you hear? No more botch- 
 ing ! " Before the arrival of a fresh rope Fitzgerald's 
 courage apparently grew fainter, and he implored that he 
 might have longer time for prayer. The request was 
 reluctantly granted by the high sheriff, who it was reported 
 by some had a reprieve in his pocket the whole time. At 
 last the repentant duellist mounted the ladder; but the 
 bungling executioner managed the rope badly, and his 
 victim was only put out of his misery by a compassionate 
 enemy, who shortened it. All was over in half an hour, 
 and the body was taken to be buried at midnight in the 
 family tomb in the chapel attached to Turlough House. 
 His wife had been active in collecting evidence, and was 
 faithful to her husband to the last ; but Fitzgerald's fate 
 was concealed from his daughter, who only learnt it years 
 afterwards from a chance news sheet which she came upon 
 when reading in a library. 
 
GEORGE ROBERT FITZGERALD. 291 
 
 Yelverton would seem to have been no better satisfied 
 with the actual verdict than a lawyer of to-day might be ; 
 for the judge's comment in the case is reported to have 
 been : " George Robert was a murderer, and he was 
 murdered." There can, however, be little doubt but that 
 Fighting Fitzgerald would have come to a violent end of 
 one kind or another. It is a thing to be wondered at that 
 he should ever have reached the mature age of thirty-eight. 
 Yet, as the compiler of the " Memoirs of George Robert 
 Fitzgerald, Esquire," pathetically reflects, " Who that has 
 sensibility can survey the ruin and ignominy of this fallen 
 gentleman without regretting the imperfections of our 
 species ! " 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 
 
 (i 794-1852.) 
 
 " Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing." 
 
 Hamlet, Act III., Sc. ii. 
 
 THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT was born 
 at Chiswick in October, 1794. His father was a 
 solicitor, his paternal grandfather being a somewhat dis- 
 tinguished member of the same profession. His mother, 
 whose maiden name was Ann Griffiths, was the daughter 
 of Ralph Griffiths, LL.D., publisher and proprietor of Thi 
 Monthly Review, now best known perhaps from the abuse 
 showered on him by the various biographers of Oliver 
 Goldsmith. Mrs. Wainewright appears to have been a 
 woman of considerable accomplishments, and according to 
 the obituary notice in The Gentleman's Magazine, was " sup- 
 posed to have understood the writings of Mr. Locke as well 
 as perhaps any person, of either sex, now living." 
 
 Wainewright could never have known either of his 
 parents, as his mother died in the effort of presenting him 
 to the world and his father did not survive more than a 
 few years. He went to live with his grandfather. Dr. 
 Griffiths, at Linden House, Turnham Green. Linden 
 House was a fine mansion, standing in well-timbered 
 gardens, which covered four acres of ground. An idea of 
 its importance may be gathered from the fact that the 
 rent was estimated at four hundred pounds a year and the 
 purchase-money at twelve thousand pounds. 
 
 Dr. Griffiths' household at this time consisted of him- 
 self, his second wife, and his son by his first marriage, 
 George Edward Griffiths. 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 293 
 
 In September, 1803,, Dr, Griffiths, having attained the 
 respectable age of eighty-three, departed this life, and 
 George Edward reigned in his stead. He had not, how- 
 ever, the ability of his father, and in his hands The Monthly 
 Review lost a good deal of its importance. A curious point 
 arises in connection with the Doctor's will. He recites that 
 on the marriage of his late daughter with Thomas Waine- 
 wright he advanced a certain sum of money, and covenanted 
 that after his death a further sum should be paid by his 
 personal representatives as a marriage portion, and goes on 
 to will that his grandson shall have this sum, and this sum 
 only. Except as regarded his grandson he wished his pro- 
 perty to be divided as though he had died intestate. This 
 provision was tantamount to a disinheriting of Thomas 
 Griffiths, as the portion left had already been covenanted 
 for, and could, no doubt, have been recovered by legal 
 process. The explanation must probably be sought in the 
 theory that he had been opposed to the marriage and had 
 never altogether forgiven it. The money that thus became 
 the property of the subject of this biography was £5,200 
 New Four per Cent. Annuities, invested in the names of 
 Robert Wainewright, Edward Smith, Henry Foss, and 
 Edward Foss as trustees, 
 
 Thomas Griffiths went to school at Charles Burney's 
 academy at Hammersmith, and there evinced for the first 
 time his love of art. As a draughtsman he even then 
 attained considerable skill, and his drawing-book is stated 
 to display " great talent and natural feeling." His school- 
 master was a cousin of his own, having married the niece 
 of the second Mrs. Griffiths. Wainewright in later life spoke 
 in terms of warm praise of his kinsman and pedagogue, 
 as "a. philosopher, an antiquarian, and an admirable 
 teacher." 
 
 After leaving school, while still a mere boy, he was 
 "placed frequently in literary society," and for a short 
 tim« devoted as much attention as his "giddy, flighty 
 disposition " allowed him to bestow on any one subject — to 
 painting, or " rather to an admiration for it." But he was 
 re&tless, and before long, but exactly when is uncertain, 
 
294 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 entered on a military career. According to his own accounts 
 he was successively an orderly officer in the Guards and a 
 cornet in a yeomanry regiment. He appears to have par- 
 taken rather freely of spirituous liquors at this time, if his own 
 statement that he was in the habit of taking ten tumblers of 
 whisky punch every evening, which had the not unnatural 
 effect of " obscuring his recollections of Michael Angelo as 
 in a dun fog " is to be credited. 
 
 His military fervour did not last very long. " My blessed 
 art touched her renegade ; by her pure and high influences 
 the noisome mists were purged : my feelings, parched, hot, 
 and tarnished, were renovated with a cool, fresh bloom, 
 childly simple, beautiful to the simple-hearted." Words- 
 worth's poems touched him deeply; he wept over them 
 "tears of happiness and gratitude." And naturally he left 
 the army. 
 
 About this time he had a severe illness, followed by 
 hypochondria in which he was " ever shuddering on the 
 horrible abyss of mere insanity," and, though he at length 
 recovered, he was left in a more or less broken state, unable 
 to accomplish steady work. 
 
 This illness preceded January, 1820, when the first number 
 of The London Magazine appeared. It had a brilliant staff 
 of contributors, including within the first few years Charles 
 Lamb, Hood, Hartley Coleridge, Hamilton Reynolds, Allan 
 Cunningham, Hazlitt, De Quincey, Procter, and others, 
 besides Wainewright. The latter wrote pretty constantly 
 between January, 1820, when his first article ("A Modest 
 Offer of Service from Mr. Bonmot to the Editor of The 
 London Magazine ") appeared, and January, 1823, when his 
 last (" Janus Weatherbound ; or the Weathercock Steadfast 
 for Lack of Oil ") came out. Between these dates he was 
 responsible for about fifteen essays, though he was in no 
 sense a regular contributor. Thus between January and 
 June, 1820, he wrote no fewer than seven articles, while 
 he was altogether silent between September, 1820, and April, 
 1821. 
 
 He wrote under the pseudonyms, " Egomet Bonmot," 
 "Janus Weathercock," and "Cornelius Van Vinkbooms," 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 295 
 
 and generally aifected somewhat fantastic titles, such as 
 " Sentimentalities on the Fine Arts," " Dogmas for Dilet- 
 tanti," and " The Academy of Taste for Grown Gentlemen ; 
 or. The Infant Connoisseur's Go-cart." Procter suggests 
 that Scott willingly accepted his clever but eccentric essays 
 as a relief from the more serious papers of his other friends. 
 The subjects he discoursed of were principally art in its 
 wider sense, including . music, the stage, the collecting of 
 engravings and ornaments, and so on, and himself. 
 
 Of pictures he wrote fluently and frequently. He is 
 primarily an impressionist, describing his sensations on 
 beholding works of art, often with considerable ability, 
 always with conviction, sometimes even with power. At 
 times, however, he is somewhat technical, as when in his esti- 
 mate of Polidoro di Caldara he says : " His lines are flowing 
 and sweepy; and in their emanation from and connection 
 with each other uniformly harmonious. His chiaroscuro is 
 forcible and well conducted, giving to single figures and 
 groups prodigious roundness; and his composition com- 
 pact." It is characteristic of him that he always spoke of 
 Paul Veronese as Cagliari and of Titian as Vecelli. He 
 believed largely in the virtues of conception, had but a 
 poor opinion of commonplace subjects faithfully delineated, 
 and speaks with contempt of "the painters of bitten apples, 
 cut fingers, and all the long list of the results of mere 
 diligent observation and patient imitation of objects intrin- 
 sically worthless and devoid of the genuine elements of 
 either humour or pathos." While admiring Sir David 
 Wilkie, he says : " It offends me to the soul to see a 
 parcel of chuckleheaded Papas, doting Mammas, and chalk- 
 and-charcoal-faced Misses, neglecting that beautiful eccen- 
 tricity of Turner's yonder in the mahogany frame, and 
 crowding, and squeezing, and riding upon one another's 
 backs to get a sight — not of the faces of the folks hearing 
 the Will, but of the brass clasps of the strong box wherein 
 was deposited the Will." He is never quite comfortable 
 when discussing contemporary work, feeling acutely that 
 want of perspective to which none but the most self-satisfied 
 of critics can be a stranger, "Things," he says, "that spring 
 
296 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 up under my nose dazzle me. I must look at them through 
 Time's telescope. Elia complains that to him the merit of 
 a MS. poem is uncertain — 'print,' as he excellently says, 
 • settles it.' Fifty years' toning does the same thing for a 
 picture. It is very possible that Sir Thomas Laurence and 
 Phillips and Owen are as good in their way as Vandyke (and 
 they have certainly less affectation). Wilkie may be better 
 than Teniers, and Westall be as much the originator of a 
 style as Coreggio. I really believe our posterity will think 
 so ; but in the meantime I am dubious and uncomfortable. 
 I have not the most distant notion of the relative merits of 
 Claude and Turner, and am truly mystified by Stothard and 
 Fuseli." Wainewright was also for a brief period a painter 
 and exhibitor, himself, taking refuge from his own criticism 
 in the comparatively secure province of cattle pieces. 
 Between 1821 and 1825 he exhibited six pictures at the 
 Royal Academy and one at the British Institution, the 
 subjects of all being similar to those of Cuyp. 
 
 But besides art there is one other subject on which he 
 is never weary of speaking — himself. He feels himself a 
 " gentleman," and he takes care that his reader shall know 
 it. He despises " Tatnam Court Road"; he has "heard 
 of" Sadler's Wells; he finds " by reference to the picture 
 of London " that the Royal Cobourg Theatre is in South- 
 wark — "faugh"; but he wants to be reminded of more 
 elegant life — " something that would suit better with the 
 diamond rings on our fingers, the antique cameos in our 
 breast-pins, our cambric pocket-handkerchief breathing forth 
 attargul, our pale lemon-coloured kid gloves." He describes 
 to us his horse, his drives to town, and his room — the last 
 with great minuteness. We have a catalogue describing 
 the pattern of the Brussels carpet, the " water-tabby-silk 
 linings " of his " choice volumes," the piano, the hothouse 
 plants, the lamp, and so on, down to the Newfoundland dog 
 and the cat. " We immersed a well-seasoned, prime pen 
 into our silver inkstand three times, shaking off the loose 
 ink lingeringly, while, holding the print fast in our left hand, 
 we perused it with half-shut eyes, dallying awhile with our 
 delight." 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 297 
 
 That Wainewright's prose has considerable merit is un- 
 deniable. Charles Lamb thought it "capital." Writing 
 to Bernard Barton in 1823, he says : " The London, I fear, 
 falls off: ... it will topple down if they don't get some 
 buttresses. They have pulled down three — Hazlitt, Procter, 
 and their best stay, kind, light-hearted Wainewright, their 
 Janus." His sympathy with art was genuine, his know- 
 ledge of it considerable. An occasional aphorism such as 
 " I hold that no work of art can be tried otherwise than by 
 laws deduced from itself " strikes home by the lucidity and 
 elegance of the expression ; an occasional simile like " The 
 polyanthus glowed in its cold bed of earth, like a solitary 
 picture of Giorgione, on the dark oaken panels of an 
 ancient dreary Gothic gallery," is full of pretty imagery, 
 but, neutralising his knowledge and his merit, is an 
 all-pervading affectation of a peculiarly irritating character, 
 and a sense of individual importance almost boundless. 
 His cleverness does not avert a sense of tediousness and 
 annoyance, and he is difficult to read except in homeopathic 
 doses. 
 
 Literature, however, did not during these years absorb 
 the whole of his artistic energies. His sketches were bold 
 and graphic, and he exhibited to his friends a portfolio of 
 drawings of the female form divine in which " the volup- 
 tuous trembled on the borders of the indelicate." 
 
 Of Wainewright's personal appearance the accounts are 
 somewhat conflicting. He is stated to have had a large 
 and massive head, with eyes deeply set, and a square, solid 
 jaw. His hair was curly, and parted down the middle, but 
 its colour is variously given. Mr. Hazlitt says that it was 
 dark, he himself that it was black, but Mr. Forster, who 
 knew him personally, calls it sandy. He wore moustaches. 
 His hands were exquisitely white, and covered with " regal 
 rings." He was a dandy : used to dress in the height of 
 fashion, and affected a blue undress military coat, perhaps 
 as a compliment to his late profession. A writer in The 
 North British Review^, who met him at a literary dinner 
 given by Messrs. Taylor and Hessey in 1821, describes 
 his appearance as " commonplace," which seems hardly 
 
298 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 consistent with the other evidence; but it must be re- 
 membered that all the accounts we have were written 
 after he had become criminally notorious, and are coloured 
 by subsequent impressions. Later in life he developed a 
 stoop, and, in the eyes at least of some who knew him, 
 a " snake- like expression at once repulsive and fascinating." 
 His conversation was smart and lively without being deep. 
 He would talk on the subjects most familiar to his acquaint- 
 ances,^ showing sufficient knowledge to make himself agree- 
 able to them, while allowing them the satisfaction of 
 imparting information. But the most circumstantial account 
 of his manner and appearance is that given by B. W. 
 Procter. " In person Wainewright was short and rather 
 fat, with a fidgety, nervous manner, and sparkling, twinkling 
 eyes, that did not readily disclose their meaning. These, 
 however, had no positive hardness or cruelty. His voice 
 was like a whisper, wanting in firmness and distinctness. 
 A spectator would at first sight have pronounced him 
 thoroughly effeminate had not his thick and sensual lips 
 counterbalanced the other features and announced that 
 something of a different nature might disclose itself here- 
 after. . . . He was not entirely cruel. I imagine that he 
 was perfectly indifferent to human life, and that he sacri- 
 ficed his victims without any emotion and for the purpose 
 simply of obtaining money to gratify his luxury. Some- 
 times I have suspected him of gambling. . . . He was 
 like one of those creatures, seemingly smooth and in- 
 nocuous, whose natural secretions, when once excited, 
 become fatal to those against whom they are accidentally 
 directed." 
 
 In 1821 Wainewright married Miss Frances Ward, a 
 remarkably handsome woman, the daughter by her first 
 husband of a Mrs. Abercromby, of Mortlake. The latter 
 had in all four children — a son by her first husband, Mr. 
 Ward, as well as the daughter who became Mrs. Waine- 
 
 ' At any rate if (as Mr. Hazlitt considers) Dickens's account of 
 Julius Slinkton in " Hunted Down " can be considered biogra- 
 phical. 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINE WRIGHT. 299 
 
 Wright, and two daughters by her second husband, Lieu- 
 tenant Abercromby — Helen Frances Phoebe, born in 1809, 
 and Madeleine, born in 1810 — both of whom developed 
 into very good-looking girls. Abercromby died in 1812, 
 penniless, and his widow, to supplement a small income of 
 about £100 a year left her by her first husband, was reduced 
 to taking in lodgers at her house in Mortlake. The two 
 younger girls were granted small pensions of ten pounds 
 each by the Board of Ordnance during their mother's 
 life. 
 
 The Wainewrights' regular income seems to have been 
 limited to the interest on the ^^5,200 left by Dr. Griffiths, 
 and cannot greatly have exceeded £200 per annum. This, 
 though insufficient for more than very moderate comfort, 
 might have proved enough if Wainewright's tastes had been 
 simple and not extravagant. But this is exactly what they 
 were not. He was, in Mr. Oscar Wilde's words, " an 
 amateur of beautiful things and a dilettante of things de- 
 lightful." He collected proof engravings freel}' ; he loved 
 good wines, hothouse plants, majolica, and other extremely 
 pleasing but expensive luxuries. Moreover, he had a 
 good deal of entertaining to do. He moved in very good 
 literary society ; he knew personally most of the leading 
 artists of the day. We have records of many dinners at 
 which he met distinguished company. No doubt he had 
 to entertain in turn, and we may be sure that when he was 
 the host the guests had no reason to complain. We know 
 of Macready, Sir David Wilkie, Richard Westall, Barry 
 Cornwall, and Lamb dining at his house. At one time he 
 lived some thirteen or fourteen miles from London, so a 
 horse and trap were necessary for his existence. He 
 speaks several times with obvious pride of his horse " Con- 
 tributor." 
 
 Procter relates how he dined once at Turnham Green 
 (this was a little later, during Wainewright's residence at 
 Linden House, about 1830), when Westall, Wainewright's 
 wife, her son (a little boy), and her sister, Madeleine Aber- 
 cromby, a fair, innocent-looking girl, about nineteen years 
 old, were present. " Although," he says, " I had known 
 
30O TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Wainewright for two or three previous years, I was not 
 aware till then that he had a child. Indeed, he seemed 
 to have little affection for the boy, who (scandal whispered) 
 was the son of a dissipated and extravagant peer. Mrs. W. 
 was a sharp-eyed, self-possessed woman, dressing in showy 
 flimsy finery. She seemed to obey Wainewright's humours 
 and to assist his needs ; but much affection did not appar- 
 ently exist between them." 
 
 Wainewright's private collection of books, if small, was 
 recherche and curious. Rare old Herbals with heavy leather 
 panels shouldered curiously bound works on astrology and the 
 occult sciences on the shelves of a massive antique book- 
 press. In a secluded corner, we are assured, he had two 
 or three old books on poisons ; these latter were richly 
 bound by Roger Payne, and it is to be hoped still gladden 
 the heart of a collector. They were doubtless sold to make 
 up the insurance expenses of 1830. The presence of the 
 books on Hermeneutics suggests that he may have gone 
 through an unremunerative course of alchemy before he 
 sought to fathom the dangerously fascinating secrets of 
 toxicology. 
 
 As a connoisseur he found opportunities from time to time 
 of " raising the wind " which do credit to his ingenuity. 
 Thus he bought a number of very costly engravings after 
 Marc Antonio and Bonasone from Dominic Colnaghi ; these 
 he removed from their cardboards and sold at prices suffi- 
 cient to compensate him for his outlay of time and trouble. 
 He then purchased very cheap copies of the same prints 
 and placed these on the cardboards to which the high prices 
 of the genuine engravings were affixed in Colnaghi's hand. 
 He parted with these to particular friends (not art-amateurs) 
 at prices slightly reduced, as an especial favour, from those 
 quoted on the mounts. 
 
 Besides occasional deals of this nature he had constant 
 recourse to loans, and among others applied to Procter for a 
 sum of two hundred pounds, "which," says the party appealed 
 to, " it was not convenient for me at that time to advance." 
 By methods such as these Wainewright managed for a 
 time to keep his head fairly well above water. But his 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINE WRIGHT. 301 
 
 feline nature had a horror of these hazardous expedients. 
 Money in abundance was necessary to the proper develop- 
 ment of his exotic character. 
 
 There were certain expectations, it is true, from his uncle, 
 George Griffiths (his grandmother bad died in 1812), who 
 was already an old man, as he might reasonably antici- 
 pate the reversion to Linden House and whatever money 
 his uncle had ; but George Griffiths remained provokingly 
 well and hearty, and expectations are not cash. A profound 
 and growing sense of dissatisfaction at the delicate and 
 unsettled state of his finances led an exquisite and enthu- 
 siastic egotist such as Wainewright, by the most natural 
 stages, to resolve upon the commission of his first crime. 
 It was not a very serious one perhaps ; indeed it sinks into 
 absolute insignificance when compared with his later pro- 
 ceedings — only forgery — but it was unfortunately one for 
 which at that period the penalty was death. Certain 
 money was held in trust for him by four gentlemen ; the 
 interest was paid him regularly by the Bank of England; 
 the money was bond fide his own. But by the stupid 
 arrangement of the trust he could not touch the capital — 
 and the capital was what he wanted very badly. It was 
 clear that the arrangement must be set aside, and as neither 
 his trustees nor the Bank were likely to see it in. quite the 
 same light as he did himself, it must be set aside without 
 their consent. All he had to do was to present an order to 
 the Bank, signed by the trustees, transferring some of the 
 capital to himself, and all would be arranged. What harm 
 would be done to any one ? No one would lose a penny, 
 and he would be a distinct gainer. Accordingly he forged 
 the order for £2,259 (among his many accomplishments 
 must have been a delicate skill in penmanship), the money 
 was paid, and the pecuniary difficulties were temporarily 
 overcome. It seems almost incredible, but is nevertheless 
 true, that it was at least six or seven years before the 
 forgery was discovered. 
 
 In the following year Wainewright made another and, 
 as it proved, a final excursion into the realms of literature. 
 He published a small duodecimo volume of forty-five pages, 
 
302 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 of which the characteristic title page is here re- 
 produced : — 
 
 "Some Passages 
 
 in the hfe, etc., 
 
 of 
 
 Egomet Bonmot, Esq. 
 
 Edited by 
 
 Mr. Mwaughaim 
 
 and now first published by 
 
 ME." 
 
 It consists chiefly of a poem in heroic metre purporting to 
 be the dying confessions of Egomet Bonmot, with a few 
 pages of prose as an introduction, and a postscript. It is 
 a satirical account of a great writer, whose works failed 
 entirely, and who was reduced to elaborate schemes of 
 puffing his own works and, by means of trenchant criticisms, 
 depreciating other people's. Almost everything in current 
 literature — particularly Byronism, pessimistic poetry, and 
 the magazines, in which he claims to have himself written 
 pseudonymously everything worth reading (including in- 
 cidentally, De Quincey's "Opium Eater") — comes under 
 the lash. The poem is written with great spirit, some 
 facility in verse, and without too much bitterness, and 
 contains some of his best writing. No apology is needed 
 for transcribing a few passages, more particularly as pre- 
 vious biographers appear to have rather curiously over- 
 looked the book. 
 
 After describing how in his unsuccessful period the Muses 
 oppressed his days, he goes on : — 
 
 " Again at night, if you'll believe me, 
 They harassed me with dreams from which I learnt 
 That rhymes like mine were written to be burnt. 
 Night followed night, and still in vain I sought 
 Relief in slumber from the monster — Thought. 
 Spellbound by day, I strove my sense of pain 
 To shake like dewdrops from the lion's mane ; 
 But no, day's struggling efforts were in vain — 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 303 
 
 And every night in vision's dread array 
 
 Repictured the realities of day. 
 
 No change came o'er my dreams — my mind's eye sees 
 
 Shapes even yet which bid life's current freeze — 
 
 Octavo wrappers for two pounds of cheese. 
 
 Yea, worse than that — oh pain ! oh grief ! oh scandal ! — 
 
 Quarto protection for a farthing candle. 
 
 Mine were those wrappers, that protection mine ; 
 
 Those quartos : those octavos — all the fine 
 
 Abstractions that united sense and sound 
 
 Hot pressed and beautifully published, found 
 
 Waste paper's ready sale — at fourpence odd per pound." 
 
 He satirises effectively, if superfluously, the Lytton- 
 Bulwigian vs^eakness for intellectual villainy : — 
 
 " In short, what's easier than that thing in vogue, 
 An honest rascal, or a noble rogue ? 
 What's easier than by help of lurking hint 
 To show a villain virtuous in print ? 
 And by a second hint's ingenious fetch 
 To nourish pity for this misused wretch." 
 
 On the subject of the contemporary magazines he is good 
 enough to say : — 
 
 " On the whole Baldwin's ' London ' was the best." 
 
 But almost immediately impudently adds: — 
 
 "But Baldwin, when I left him, ceased to thrive — 
 He lost the honey-maker of his hive.'' 
 
 We are informed that Mr. Bonmot's last words were 
 " I, I," and are given a picture of the tombstone which, 
 when absolutely dying, he designed for himself: — 
 
 
 Ego 
 
 
 0) 
 
 Here lie I. 
 
 C 
 
 
 quondam 
 
 
 The numerous other volumes (the collected works of 
 
304 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Egomet), promised in this work never app&ared, and it does 
 not seem likely that this last literary effort added much to 
 the monetary resources of the W'ainewrights. What these 
 resources (so far as is known) were, has already been 
 detailed, but, even with the windfall secured by the suc- 
 cessful forgery, which, moreover, had the necessary but 
 unfortunate effect of diminishing the settled income, they 
 were quite inadequate to meet the expenses of the establish- 
 ment. A second deviation from the path of mere collective 
 morality became requisite in the year 1829, when the 
 Wainewrights were on a long visit at Linden House. 
 They had previously been occupying (1827-8) luxurious 
 furnished apartments in Great Marlborough Street, and 
 entertaining such distinguished guests as Mr. Serjeant 
 Talfourd, Mr. John Forster, Mr. Macready, and others at 
 dinner. Debts must have been accumulating fast, and it could 
 only have been by extreme cleverness and address that the 
 debtor could have prevented them becoming overwhelming. 
 A fortunate invitation had opened Linden House to the 
 married couple, who were still childless, about the year 
 1828, and they accordingly took up their residence with 
 their bachelor uncle, George Edward. This must have 
 been, pecuniarily speaking, a great relief, and such a 
 handsome mansion as Linden House, with its magnificent 
 grounds, must have been particularly grateful to Waine- 
 wright. But the debts remained, and no amount of skill in 
 delay is sufficient to keep creditors permanently at bay. Pre- 
 sumably Wainewright's did not differ materially from other 
 specimens of the same tribe, and at last there came a time 
 when their importunity was such as to render it necessary 
 for something to be done. The head of the house was 
 an old man, in the best of health it is true, but there is 
 nothing so very remarkable in old men dying suddenly, 
 and certainly no ground for suspicion. Could not his 
 demise be arranged to occur rather earlier than Nature 
 insisted upon — almost immediately, in fact ? The advan- 
 tages that would accrue were obvious : not only would the 
 fine house and all it contained pass by natural descent to 
 the nephew, but also — and more important — there was 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINE WRIGHT. 305 
 
 certainly a fair sum of money which would pass with it, 
 though Uncle George had not been, like his father, a 
 remarkably successful man. Wainewright had a consider- 
 able knowledge of the effects of certain poisons — far in 
 advance, indeed, of tht average medical man of the time 
 — and he thought this a good opportunity for testing his 
 knowledge in a practical way.^ So George Edward Griffiths 
 died, and was buried, and peace for a short time reigned 
 at Linden House. The poison employed is usually stated to 
 have been strychnine, but no record of the symptoms remains. 
 Probably the murderer pursued the same course as in his 
 later murders, when relating the last and greatest of which 
 it will be necessary to discuss shortly the means employed. 
 
 In the same year there was an addition to his household, 
 Mrs. Wainewright being confined of her only child — a son, 
 who was christened Griffiths, after his grandfather — and in 
 the next a still larger addition, for it became necessary, 
 owing to their having become so poor as to be almost 
 destitute, to find a home for Mrs. Abercromby and her two 
 daughters, Helen and Madeleine. 
 
 The relief that was brought by the death of the late 
 owner of Linden House appears to have been of a transitory 
 nature. The ready money was probably quite absorbed by 
 immediate needs, and only the house remained. But the 
 house by itself was more of an encumbrance than a relief, 
 as to keep it up properly — and of course the Wainewright& 
 would wish to do it properly — required a large income. 
 Mr. Hazlitt, from his personal knowledge of it, estimates 
 it at least a thousand pounds a year. It therefore followed 
 that very shortly after the Abercrombys took up their residence 
 with the Wainewrights it became the duty of the head of the 
 house to find means to again pacify creditors, and this time, 
 if possible, to secure sufficient surplus to be able to defy 
 them permanently. Naturally his thoughts turned to his 
 last successful operation ; but there were difficulties. There 
 
 ' The evidence connecting Wainewright with this murder is not 
 conclusive, nor, indeed, very strong, but in the face of his subsequent 
 actions there can be little doubt of his guilt. 
 
 21 
 
3o6 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 were no expectations now ; no one existed whose death 
 would be of any benefit. But had he not heard that the 
 object of life insurance offices was to provide large pay- 
 ments in the event of premature death in return for a 
 small premium down? That was just what he wanted. 
 
 In searching for a victim his attention was directed to 
 Helen Abercromby. She was almost ideally situated for 
 his purpose. She had implicit confidence in him, knew 
 nothing of business, and could easily be persuaded to do 
 anything he wished. It was essential that he should not 
 appear in the matter in view of possible complications. 
 Moreover, the English law does not allow any one to insure 
 any other person's life unless he has a pecuniary interest in 
 it. But it does not prevent the assured from making over 
 a policy to a friend for a real, or even a nominal considera- 
 tion. So she must make the proposals in her own name, 
 and as life offices inquire more carefully into the objects 
 of a proposed assurance when the proposal is for a large 
 amount than when it is for a small one, it was advisable 
 that the risk should be spread over as many offices as 
 possible. But in case they should show unseemly curiosity, 
 it was as well that she should be provided with some state- 
 ment to make. So a cock-and-bull story was invented 
 about a pending chancery suit which would probably soon 
 terminate in her favour, but if she were to die in the next 
 year or two the property would go elsewhere. This tale 
 had the advantage of accounting for the proposals being 
 for short periods (one or two years), and not for the whole 
 of life, and this method of assurance has the advantage of 
 reducing the premium by more than one-third. 
 
 Miss Abercromby suspected nothing, and apparently 
 having no objection to the innocent fictions which, if not 
 necessary, would at any rate tend to smooth over the 
 preliminaries, put herself in Wainewright's hands. In 
 March, 1830, accordingly, she made two proposals — one for 
 ;f3,ooo for a period of three years to the Palladium, at an 
 annual premium of £39, and one for the same sum at the 
 Eagle for a period of two years. Mrs. Wainewright accom- 
 panied her to the offices, as she did subsequently to other 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 307 
 
 offices. The object of the assurances was stated to be to get 
 possession of property which would fall in within three years. 
 
 A pause of some months followed. This may have been 
 due to Wainewright's sense that the longer the interval 
 between the proposal and the death, the less suspicious 
 the offices would be likely to be, but it is more probable 
 that Mrs. Abercromby objected to the proceedings. What, 
 she may reasonably have asked, could be the good of 
 insuring for short periods the life of a practically penniless 
 girl who was very healthy and almost certain to outlive the 
 policies? It was throwing money away. Helen, in all 
 probability, while willing to gratify her brother-in-law, if 
 that were possible without offending her mother, may have 
 been of the same opinion. So, as ;f5,ooo was clearly an 
 inadequate sum for which to dispose of the girl, especially 
 as it might be largely increased, a delay was inevitable. 
 
 Meanwhile, financially speaking, things were getting 
 worse every day. In July a money-lender, Mr. Sharpus, 
 held two of Wainewright's securities, a warrant of attorney, 
 the consideration for which was £610, which became due 
 in the next month, and a bill of sale for the whole furniture 
 and effects of Linden House. Moreover, money was due 
 for such prosaic necessaries as bread, groceries, meat, and 
 coals. The tradesmen had great confidence in the possessors 
 of old Griffiths' mansion, but their complaisance could not 
 be relied on for ever, and it was already being sorely tested. 
 Something must be done, and that right quickly. Mrs. 
 Abercromby stood in the way. She must be removed. So 
 in August, just as Mr. Sharpus's bill fell due, she died. 
 
 It has usually been assumed that Mrs. Wainewright was 
 the partner of her husband's crimes, but in the absence of 
 direct evidence, and in the face of the fact that her own 
 mother was one of the victims, we incline to believe that 
 the idealist's astuteness was sufficient to deceive her as it 
 did every one else. 
 
 The bill was arranged for — that is, Wainewright made an 
 affidavit that he had given no other security to any one, and 
 payment was postponed to the 21st of December. 
 
 A decent interval was necessary for mourning, but the 
 
3o8 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 exigencies of the situation demanded that it should be as 
 short as possible. Miss Abercromby, who had now attained 
 the age of twenty-one, wrote to the Ordnance Office stating 
 that she was " totally unprovided for," and requesting the 
 continuance of the £xo pension. She also made an affidavit 
 to the same effect. The assurance scheme was also revived, 
 and during the months of September and October she made 
 proposals to seven offices for an aggregate amount of over 
 ;£"20,ooo, of which £iz,ooo was accepted — the Alliance 
 declining on the ground that two years ago a young lady 
 had come to take out a short period policy and had died 
 very soon afterwards from foul play, and the Eagle not 
 wishing to increase their risk. At other offices some of 
 the necessary questions were answered falsely — at the 
 Imperial she stated that she was not insured elsewhere 
 but intended to make a £2,000 proposal. The officials 
 of the Company discovered that she actually had a 
 policy for ;£"5,ooo and had also made an unsuccessful pro- 
 posal. Nevertheless the assurance was granted. She also 
 stated that she wished to secure a sum of money for her 
 sister in case she died within two years, after which other 
 sources would be available. At the Globe she was declined 
 owing to statements which were known by the Company to 
 be false. Here, when asked the reason, she said she didn't 
 exactly know : some money matters had to be arranged — 
 ladies did not know much about these things. At the 
 Provident the case, though accepted, was never completed. 
 This can only be attributed to lack of funds to pay the 
 premium with. Indeed it is remarkable that Wainewright 
 was able to raise as much as he did, over two hundred 
 pounds, considering his straitened condition. 
 
 On the I2th of December, 1830, the family, consisting of Mr. 
 and Mrs. Wainewright, the Abercrombys, the baby, Harriet 
 Grattan the old family nurse, and another servant, removed to 
 furnished lodgings over a tailor's shop at 12, Conduit Street. 
 The ostensible reason was to allow the young ladies to see 
 something of the sights of London, and there was still some 
 business to be transacted. So on the following day Helen 
 went to the office of a Mr. Leest, and there made a will in 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 309 
 
 favour of her sister Madeleine. This was one of Waine- 
 wright's cleverest ideas, as it removed the appearance of the 
 numerous policies being for his own benefit, and he would 
 have no difficulty in getting the control of the money after- 
 wards, even if he did not again take refuge in poison. There 
 is no evidence that he had any designs on Madeleine's life, 
 but it certainly does not seem improbable. But as ready 
 money was urgently needed for his immediate needs it was 
 as well that some of the assurance money should be available 
 at once. Accordingly he got his sister-in-law to assign the 
 policies in the Hope and the Palladium to him — the first 
 assignment being prepared by Mr. James Bird, an attorney, 
 on the 13th, the second by Mr. Thomas Kirk, also a lawyer, 
 on the 14th. In each case there was a nominal consideration 
 of £19 19s. which was, almost certainly, never paid. 
 
 All these business transactions must have been annoying 
 to the poor girl, but as a compensation there were the joys 
 of the theatre. On the 13th, and again on the 14th, the 
 party went to the play. On the night of the 14th they 
 walked home, and, it being wet. Miss Abercromby — ladies 
 are so incautious — having thin shoes on, got her feet damp. 
 Nevertheless she was able to partake heartily of the supper 
 of lobsters and porter. During the supper she began to feel 
 very unwell, and in the night had a bad, restless headache 
 and was very sick. In the morning she was still ill, but got 
 up to dinner. 
 
 As she seemed gradually to get worse Dr. Locock, whom 
 Mr. Forster describes as a distinguished physician, was called 
 in. He found the patient sitting in her bedroom, with bad 
 headache, a weight over her eyes, and partial blindness. 
 He prescribed simple remedies — a black dose, calomel, and 
 senna — which did not appear to do much good. Accordingly, 
 to abate feverish symptoms, which began to develop, he 
 ordered tartar emetic, which produced violent vomiting. 
 Still the disease increased, and by the aoth sedatives 
 were necessary. The next morning she was decidedly 
 better, so much so that Wainewright, who had been greatly 
 worried of late, went with his wife up the Thames sketching. 
 His wife administered a last dose before starting. When 
 
310 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 they were gone the patient became hysterical and complained 
 of a little boy coming along the room. This was followed, 
 after a burst of tears, by violent convulsions. The servant 
 who was in the room, being alarmed, sent for Messrs. King 
 and Nicholson, apothecaries, and a Mr. Hanks came and saw 
 her. Dr. Locock also called and found her better and sensible. 
 She said, " Doctor, I am dying ; I feel I am ; I am sure so." 
 He said, " You will be better by and by." The family nurse 
 said that Mrs. Abercromby had died in the same way, and 
 Helen cried out, " Yes, my mother ! oh, my poor mother ! " 
 The doctor left, but the convulsions returned, and an hour 
 or so later she died. A grim figure in the sick chamber was 
 the old nurse who from the first expected a fatal result, 
 and who uttered gloomy and despairing cries to the effect 
 that Helen's mother and Dr. Griffiths had died in exactly 
 the same manner. 
 
 Dr. Locock thought that the death was due to brain 
 mischief, and proposed to make an examination, which 
 Wainewright at once assented to. Accordingly, next day 
 the brain was opened by Hanks and a considerable quantity 
 of water was found on the lower part, pressing upon the 
 upper part of the spinal marrow. Two days afterwards 
 the stomach was given to a surgeon — Mr. Graham — for 
 examination, but beyond a few points in which the blood 
 vessels were much more injected with blood than usual, and 
 a few specks under the coat of the stomach it appeared to 
 be normal. 
 
 Some doubt exists as to the poison employed. It is 
 always given as strychnine, the evidence being the specks 
 on the stomach, the convulsions, and the fact that Waine- 
 wright was afterwards found with it in his possession. Dr. 
 Locock himself subsequently believed in this theory, and 
 accounted for his failing to detect it on the ground that at 
 that time the action of the drug was very imperfectly known. 
 That strychnine was the immediate cause of death is likely 
 enough, but that it was the only poison used is at least doubt- 
 ful. In the first place the convulsions did not commence until 
 the 20th, whereas the illness first developed on the 14th ; 
 in the next, strychnine is not an easy drug to administer to 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 311 
 
 a healthy person, as, so far from being " almost tasteless," 
 as one of the biographers says, it has an exceedingly bitter 
 taste, which it is practically impossible to conceal. If, 
 therefore, a dose of it had been put into Helen Abercromby's 
 beer she would very likely have declined to drink it altogether 
 on account of its nastiness. Again, vomiting, with which the 
 illness commenced, is not a symptom of strychnine poison- 
 ing. On the whole evidence seems to point to the belief that 
 Wainewright first prepared her with some other drug, possibly 
 antimony, and then finished the business with nux vomica. 
 If this is so it is worth noticing that one of the first remedies 
 applied was tartar emetic, which is itself a preparation of 
 antimony. It may also be noted that the suggested double 
 poisoning is the method attributed to the notorious William 
 Palmer, the Rugeley murderer.' 
 
 The way seemed now clear to affluence, but an unexpected 
 difficulty arose. The offices declined to pay, alleging that 
 the assurance was not bond fide for Miss Abercromby's 
 benefit, and that, even if it were, sufficient false statements 
 had been made to them to invalidate the policies. Waine- 
 wright consulted yet another solicitor — Mr. Acheson — who 
 advised him that his claim was a just one, and suggested 
 legal proceedings. Accordingly steps were taken to com- 
 mence proceedings in Chancery against the directors of 
 the Imperial, it being understood that the decision of the 
 case would govern the others. Wainewright's usual 
 acumen did not desert him in the choice of the office to 
 fight, as the contention of the offices that the assurances 
 were really for his benefit would have been much 
 strengthened if either of the offices whose policies had 
 been actually assigned to him had been selected. 
 
 Financially speaking things were as bad as ever. The 
 bills were coming due, and to meet them there was only the 
 prospect of money which could not be paid before the action 
 
 ' Palmer's case presents several points of resemblance to that 
 under consideration. For an int^esting and elaborate account of 
 the Rugeley case (especially from the medical aspect) see G. L. 
 Browne and C. G. Stewart's "Reports of Trials for Murder by 
 Poisoning." 1883. ' 
 
312 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 came off, and proceedings in Chancery were very much more 
 deliberate then even than they are now. Still, as the pros- 
 pects of ultimate success were considered hopeful, it might 
 be possible to raise a loan, and in January of the following 
 year a gentleman was found willing to advance £i,ooo, with 
 which Sharpus was paid off, and certain other creditors. 
 
 Wainewright's spirits seem to have remained high. 
 We have a record of his serenading a young lady, the 
 daughter of a friend of his — a Norfolk gentleman who had 
 been in the army — at Caroline Place, Mecklenburgh Square, 
 when writs were abroad for his ^arrest, and when a friend of 
 Mr. Thornbury, who was staying in the same house, was 
 actually arrested in mistake for him. This sort of life 
 could not last long ; a prolonged visit to the Continent was 
 deemed advisable, and the Norfolk friend expressed his 
 willingness to go with " kind, light-hearted " Wainewright 
 to Boulogne. So about May, 1831, Wainewright left his 
 wife, whom he never saw again, and put the sea between 
 himself and his creditors. 
 
 A story is told of yet another murder which is supposed to 
 have occurred about this period. The story is this: the 
 Norfolk. gentleman was suffering from that common disease, 
 lack of funds, and was anxious to raise a loan on personal 
 security. Wainewright suggested that this could best 
 be managed through an insurance office ; many such 
 transact this class of business. A bond is prepared 
 stipulating for repayment — usually by instalments — within 
 a certain period of time — say five years — and interest and 
 instalments have to be guaranteed by two substantial 
 sureties. An assurance is effected on the borrower's life 
 for about twice the amount of the advance, out of which the 
 Company repays itself should death take place before the 
 loan is finally paid off. The policy is assigned to the 
 Company, and the loan, less the first year's premium and 
 legal expenses, is paid over. The method is simplicity 
 itself provided the sureties are forthcoming, and advan- 
 tageous to all parties — except, perhaps, to the sureties. The 
 scheme was adopted ; Wainewright thought the Pelican a 
 good office for the purpose ; the life was considered a good 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 313 
 
 one, a policy was issued for £3,000, and the advance was 
 carried through. Wainewright's motive is represented as 
 being one of simple revenge, he being enraged at the resistance 
 offered by the offices to his just claims. So one evening 
 when coffee was brought in after dinner he squeezed poison 
 from one of his numerous rings into the cup of his friend, 
 who died shortly afterwards in convulsions. Wainewright, of 
 course, could not stop long alone with his deceased friend's 
 daughter, so he shortly left Boulogne for St. Omer, in 
 Brittany, his journey being consoled by the thought that 
 he had got £3,000 out of the Pelican. 
 
 The whole tale would appear to be of the most doubtful 
 authenticity. The motive is preposterously inadequate. 
 In all the previous murders the object was immediate or 
 deferred benefit of a very substantial character. Here it 
 was either a feeble piece of spite — feeble because it was 
 directed not against an individual, but against a Company 
 which would hardly feel it — or a wanton enjoyment of crime 
 for its own sake contrary to the whole nature of the man. 
 But there are more positive objections. The absence of 
 details is so marked as to be alone almost conclusive. No 
 name is given — a Norfolk gentleman is vagueness itself; no 
 date is given ; no single detail is given except that the policy 
 was for £3,000 and effected with the Pelican. But on 
 inquiry at that office the writer was informed that after 
 careful search no trace of any such assurance could be 
 found. The evidence points clearly to the theory that the 
 whole narrative is mythical. 
 
 Madeleine Abercromby married, in the May of the next 
 year (1832), Mr. Wheatley, auctioneer, of Piccadilly. If 
 Wainewright had ever any criminal intentions with regard 
 to his second sister-in-law they probably had disappeared 
 before this, but this must have been a final blow to any 
 hopes he might still have indulged in of keeping the 
 insurance money in the family. 
 
 Of Wainewright's Continental wanderings during the next 
 few years we know extremely little. In the early part of 
 1833, however, he was in Paris, where he fell into extreme 
 destitution. Procter received a letter from him in 1833 
 
314 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 asking for a very small loan or gift in money, which was 
 sent. " The letter was in his usual fantastic style, refer- 
 ring to some pictures which I then had, particularly to my 
 ' Dusk Giorgione,' as he termed it. But when he had to 
 tell of his wretched state, his tone deepened. ' Sir, I 
 starve,' he said, adding that he had been obliged to pawn 
 his only shirt in order to enable him to pay the postage 
 of the letter." He had, it must be presumed, long discarded 
 " our pale lemon-coloured kid gloves and the antique 
 cameos in our breast-pins." 
 
 He is said to have resided for a time at Calais, where we 
 are gravely assured he became personally intimate with a 
 married female, whom fear of detection " or some other 
 strong motive " induced him to poison. But here it is 
 obviously necessary to be on one's guard against the 
 insidious growth of a Wainewright legend. He may have 
 committed another murder at Calais, or he may not ; the 
 evidence seems confined to a vague, bald, and most uncon- 
 vincing assertion. The reputation of an established poisoner 
 is evidently of the most elastic kind, and people credit him 
 with a mysterious disappearance as glibly as they father a 
 belated joke upon Douglas Jerrold. But such attributions 
 are often merely decorative hypotheses, in regard to which 
 it is necessary, even in the case of the Borgias, to maintain 
 an attitude of critical, if not incredulous reserve. 
 
 A period of six months, between 1833 and 1836, was spent 
 by Wainewright in a Parisian prison as , a suspect, his 
 account of himself being inconsistent with known facts. 
 Moreover, strychnine was found on his person ; but to this 
 little importance was attached, as it was only considered 
 evidence of eccentricity natural to an Englishman. It was 
 not until June, 1837, that he again returned to England, but 
 in the meantime events had occurred which demand a little 
 attention. 
 
 Legal proceedings are proverbially slow, and at most 
 periods of history complaints on this score arise. Helen 
 Abercromby died in December, 1830, and proceedings were 
 commenced almost immediately, yet it was not until the end 
 of June, 1835, that the trial came on. Mr. Serjeant Tal- 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 315 
 
 fourd, who certainly should know, airily attributes the 
 length of the interval to " proceedings in Equity." Dis- 
 tinguished counsel were engaged. Mr. Erie, Sir William 
 Follett, and Mr. Henderson, for the plaintiff. The Attorney- 
 General, Sir John Campbell (afterwards Lord Chancellor), 
 Sir F. Pollock, and others for the defendants. The evidence 
 need not be dealt with in much detail as most of the facts 
 have already been set out. The actuary to the Imperial, 
 called by the plaintiff, proved the policy, and in cross-exami- 
 nation repeated the misinformation given him by the assured 
 and Mrs. Wainewright. The servants gave evidence as to 
 the . nature of the symptoms. In cross-examination the 
 nurse told of the similar death of Mrs. Abercromby, and 
 both said that their wages had not been paid. Dr. Locock 
 detailed the symptoms and remedies tried at length. He 
 had no doubt death was due to natural causes, and attributed 
 the illness to the oysters and wet feet. Effusion on the 
 brain was the immediate cause of death, and this was caused 
 by oysters (as seen above, he afterwards modified his opinion). 
 In cross-examination he admitted that most vegetable poisons 
 leave no trace. This was all the evidence offered. The 
 defence did not call witnesses, but contented itself with 
 pointing out the suspicious features of the case, the poverty 
 of Miss Abercromby, the indebtedness of Wainewright, the 
 astonishing amount of assurance money at stake, and so on. 
 It contended that the nominal proposer was a mere tool in 
 her brother-in-law's hands, and that in any case the mis- 
 representation was vital. Lord Abinger, who tried the case, 
 pointed out that murder was no defence, and practically 
 censured the defence for the course it had pursued. The 
 only points for the jury were the importance of the mis- 
 representation and the bona fide character of the assurance. 
 The jury deliberated for two hours, and then being six and 
 six, with no prospect of agreement, was discharged. 
 
 The case was retried early in December. The evidence 
 offered for the plaintiff was substantially the same as in the 
 previous trial, the chief exception being that Hanks was 
 called to strengthen the medical evidence. He said that 
 there was nothing in the state of the stomach to cause 
 
3i6 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 suspicion. The defence, however, changed its tactics. 
 Without dwelling so much on the possible criminal acts of 
 Wainewright, it called a variety of witnesses to prove the 
 statements of counsel. Representatives of many of the 
 other offices involved proved the other insurances. A clerk 
 in the Ordnance Office proved that at the time they were 
 effected Miss Abercromby described herself as being totally 
 unprovided for. The solicitors, Kirk, Leest, and Bird, spoke 
 to the assignments and the preparation of the will ; trades- 
 men and others showed that the Wainewrights were at the 
 time unable to pay their debts. Lord Abinger, who was 
 again the judge, changed his position somewhat, and was 
 much more favourable to the defence. " The case," he said, 
 " was pregnant with suspicion," and moreover " not a tittle 
 of proof had been adduced to substantiate the reasons given " 
 for the assurance. The jury almost immediately found for the 
 defendants on the ground of misrepresentation, and of Miss 
 Abercromby having no real interest in the insurance.^ 
 
 In June, 1837, Wainewright returned to his native country 
 — why is uncertain, but according to one tale there was a 
 woman in the case. Great precaution was necessary, as 
 warrants were now out for the forgery, which had at length 
 been discovered. He put up incognito at a hotel in Covent 
 Garden. One morning when in a sitting-room on the ground 
 floor, he happened to push aside the blind to discover the 
 cause of a noise in the street, when, by a curious coincidence, 
 one Forrester, a Bow Street runner, was passing. Forrester 
 recognised him. " That's Wainewright, the bank-forger! " he 
 exclaimed, and at once proceeded to arrest him. His trial 
 took place early in the next month. At this time, though 
 forgery was still punishable by death, a serious agitation had 
 set in in favour of milder treatment. The Bank expressed 
 their willingness not to proceed with the charge of forgery 
 if the prisoner would plead guilty to uttering the forged 
 cheque, which was not a capital offence. Wainewright con- 
 
 ^ The trial settled the not altogether unimportant point in in- 
 surance law, that verbal misrepresentations might be sufficient to 
 annul a policy. 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINE WRIGHT. 317- 
 
 sented, and was sentenced by the Recorder to transportation 
 for life. 
 
 Many tales are told of Wainewright's conversation during- 
 the few days that elapsed before he was transported. It was 
 then that he was recognised by Macready, who was going 
 over Newgate with Dickens, Hablot Browne, and Forster. To 
 quote Mr. Forster's account, they " were startled by a sudden 
 tragic cry of ' My God ! there's Wainewright.' In the shabby 
 genteel creature, with sandy, disordered hair, and dirty 
 moustache, who had turned quickly round with a defiant 
 stare at our entrance, looking at once mean and fierce, and 
 quite capable of the cowardly murders he had committed,. 
 Macready had been horrified to recognise a man familiarly 
 known to him in former years, and at whose table he had 
 dined." He seems to have talked freely of his crimes^ 
 though, if the murders were so well known, it is extra- 
 ordinary that he was never put on trial. To one who asked 
 him how he could kill such a beautiful girl as Helen Aber- 
 cromby, he replied, " I don't know. She had very thick 
 ankles," or something to that effect. The following story is 
 better authenticated, and is vouched for by a friend of the 
 other speaker.^ The conversation was as follows : — 
 
 Visitor : " I do not intend to preach to you — that would 
 be idle ; but I ask you, Mr. Wainewright, as a man of sense, 
 whether you do not think your courses have been, to say the 
 least, very absurd ? " 
 
 Wainewright : " No. I played for a fortune and I lost. 
 They pay me great respect here, I assure you. They think 
 I am here for £10,000, and that always creates respect." 
 
 Visitor: " Well, but if you look back upon your life, and 
 see to what it has brought you, does it not demonstrate to 
 you the folly of your proceedings ? " 
 
 Wainewright : " Not a bit. I have always been a gentle- 
 man, always lived like a gentleman, and I am a gentleman 
 still. Yes, sir, even in Newgate I am a gentleman. The 
 prison regulations are that we should each in turn sweep the 
 yard. There are a baker and a sweep here besides myself. 
 They sweep the yard ; but, Sir, they have never offered me 
 the broom." 
 
 ' British Quarterly Review (1848). 
 
3i8 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 There is a tale of Wainewright's having left at St. Omer 
 a diary, which was secured by the representative of the 
 insurance offices, in which full details of his criminal pro- 
 ceedings were recorded with cold-blooded exactness. This 
 tale is probably false. Had such a diary been in existence, 
 is it credible that the author would never have been charged 
 with the murders ? Moreover Mr. Hazlitt found, on inquiry 
 at the offices, that they knew nothing about it. The positive 
 and negative evidence combined appear conclusive. 
 
 Within a few years of his arrival in Tasmania he was 
 admitted to the hospital at Hobart Town, where he stayed 
 some years, though sufficiently well to make a number of 
 water-colour sketches, many of which are now — or were 
 until recently — in the possession of Dr. G. H. F. Nuttall, of 
 Baltimore, the son of the doctor at the hospital, and are 
 described as remarkably fine. They include an excellent 
 portrait of Dr. Nuttall, and a pencil sketch of his own head, 
 with the inscription, ' Head of a convict : very charac- 
 teristic of low cunning and revenge.' 
 
 In 1844 he made an application for a ticket-of-leave, which 
 is given in full. It shows all the old impudence, rising at 
 times almost to sublimity, and demonstrates that Janus 
 Weathercock's adventures in real life had not materially 
 affected his literary style. 
 
 "To His Excellency, Sir John Eardly Wilmot, Bart., 
 Lieut.-Governor of Van Dieman's Land, etc., etc. 
 
 " The humble petition of T. Griffiths Wainewright, pray- 
 ing for the indulgence of a ticket-of-leave. 
 
 " To palliate the boldness of this application he offers the 
 statement ensuing. That seven years past he was arrested 
 on a charge of forging, and acting on a power of attorney to 
 sell stock thirteen years previous. Of which (though looking 
 for little credence) he avers his entire innocence. He admits 
 a knowledge of the actual committer, gained though some 
 years after the fact. Such, however, were their relative 
 positions, that to have disclosed it would have made him 
 infamous where any human feeling is manifest. Neverthe- 
 less, by his counsel's direction, he entered the plea Not 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 319 
 
 Guilty, to allow him to adduce the ' circonstance attenuante,' 
 viz., that the money (3^5,200) appropriated was, without 
 quibble, his own, derived from his parents. An hour before 
 his appearing to plead he was trepanned (through the just 
 but deluded Governor of Newgate) into withdrawing his plea, 
 by a promise, in such case, of a punishment merely nominal- 
 The same purporting to issue from the Bank Parlour, but in 
 fact from the agents of certain Insurance Companies interested 
 to a heavy amount (£16,000) in compassing his legal non- 
 existence. He pleaded guilty, and was forthwith hurried, 
 stunned with such ruthless periidy, to the hulks at Ports- 
 mouth, and thence in five days aboard the Susan, sentenced 
 to Life in a land (to him) a moral sepulchre. As a ground 
 for your mercy he submits with great deference his foregone 
 condition of life during 43 years of freedom. A descent 
 deduced, through family tradition and Edmondson's Heraldry, 
 from a stock not the least honoured in Cambria, nurtured 
 with all appliances of ease and comfort, schooled by his 
 relative, the well-known philologer and bibliomaniac, Chas. 
 Burney, D.D., brother to Mdme. D'Arblay, and the com- 
 panion of Cooke. Lastly, such a modest competence as 
 afforded the mental necessaries of Literature, Archaeology, 
 Music and the Plastic Arts ; while his pen and brush intro- 
 duced him to the notice and friendship of men whose fame 
 is European. The Catalogues of Somerset House Exhibi- 
 tions, the Literary Pocket Book, indicate his earlier pursuits, 
 and the MS. left behind in Paris, attest at least his industry. 
 Their titles imply the objects to which he has, to this date, 
 directed all his energies : ' A Philosophical Theory of Design, 
 as concerned with the Loftier Emotions, showing its deep 
 action on Society, drawn from the Phidean-Greek, and 
 early Florentine Schools ' (the result of seventeen years 
 study), illustrated with numerous plates, executed with con- 
 scientious accuracy, in one vol., atlas folio. ' An Aesthetic 
 and Psychological Treatise on the Beautiful ; or the Analogies 
 of Imagination and Fancy, as exerted in Poesy, whether 
 Verse, Painting, Sculpture, Music, or Architecture,' to form 
 four vols., folio, with a profusion of engravings by the first 
 artists of Paris, Munich, Berlin, Dresden, and Wien, ' An 
 
320 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 Art Novel,' in three vols., and a collection of ' Fantasia, 
 Critical Sketches, etc., selected partly from Blackwood, the 
 Foreign Review, and the London Magazine.' All these were 
 nearly ready for, one actually at, press. Deign, your Excel- 
 lency ! to figure to yourself my actual condition during seven 
 years ; without friends, good name (the breath of life), or art 
 (the fuel to it with me), tormented at once by memory and 
 ideas struggling for outward form and realisation, barred up 
 from increase of knowledge, and deprived of the exercise of 
 profitable or even of decorous speech. Take pity, your Excel- 
 lency ! and grant me the power to shelter my eyes from Vice 
 in her most revolting and sordid phase, and my ears from a 
 jargon of filth and blasphemy that would outrage the cynicism 
 of Parny himself. Perhaps this clinging to the lees of a 
 vapid life may seem as base, unmanly, arguing rather a ple- 
 beian, than a liberal and gentle descent. But, your Excel- 
 lency ! the wretched Exile has a child ! and Vanity (sprung 
 from the praise of Flaxman, Charles Lamb, Stothard, Rd. 
 Westall, Delaroche, Cornelius, Laurence, and the god of his 
 worship, Fuseli) whispers that the follower of the Ideal might 
 even yet achieve another reputation than that of a Faussain. 
 Seven years of steady demeanour may in some degree promise 
 that no indulgence shall ever be abused by your Excellency's 
 miserable petitioner. 
 
 "T. G. Wainewright." 
 
 On this remarkable and most unveracious production the 
 Governor laconically endorsed " A. T. L. ^ would be con- 
 trary to Act of Parlt. T. L. refused. 3rd class wages 
 received (?)." 
 
 When discharged from the hospital Wainewright con- 
 tinued to paint portraits. Of one of these, a small oil paint- 
 ing of a girl's face, which was shown at a party at Gore 
 House in 1847 by Lady Blessington, Mr. Forster says that 
 Wainewright "had contrived somehow to put the expres- 
 sion of his own wickedness into the portrait of a nice kind- 
 hearted girl," but as he does not appear to have known 
 the original, the statement may be accepted cum grano. No 
 
 ' Ticket-of-leave. 
 
THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 321 
 
 such criticism, at any rate, has been passed on any other of 
 his pictures made at this time. The sketches shown by 
 Lady Blessington to Bulwer Lytton are described as very 
 clever, and showing considerable delicacy of taste. 
 
 It is stated that Wainewright's criminal propensities did 
 not desert him in Hobart Town, that he became a confirmed 
 opium-eater, was of grossly sensual habits, took pleasure in 
 traducing persons who had befriended him, conversed indeli- 
 cately with lady sitters, and twice attempted to murder his 
 sitters. A gruesome story is told of his hissing in the ear of 
 a dying convict whom he disliked : "You are a dead man, 
 
 you . In four-and-twenty hours your soul will be in hell, 
 
 and my arms will be up to that (the elbow) in your body 
 dissecting you." Some of these tales may be true, but we 
 can hardly believe that, after he had attempted to murder 
 one sitter, he would have been allowed to continue his occu- 
 pation ; and many of the other details are possibly fictions. 
 
 What is more certain is, that he was very unpopular, 
 having practically only one friend, a cat (throughout life he 
 entertained an affectionate regard for this animal) and died 
 very miserably of apoplexy in the hospital about 1852. 
 
 The words of Barry Cornwall are sufficiently suitable for 
 an epitaph : — 
 
 " Who would have supposed that from a man who was 
 absolutely a fop, finikin in dress, with mincing steps and 
 tremulous words, with his hair curled and full of unguents, 
 and his cheeks painted like those of a frivolous demirep, 
 would flame out ultimately the depravity of a poisoner and 
 a murderer ? " 
 
 22 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 
 
 (1855-1880.) 
 
 " O for a fine thief of the age of two-and-twenty, or thereabouts ! " 
 (^Henry IV., Pt. I., Act III., sc. ii.) 
 
 AUSTRALIA, with its marsupials, echidna, and platypi, 
 its cockatoos, its lyre-birds, brush-turkeys, and bush- 
 rangers, is pre-eminently the home of strange and archaic 
 types of life. The Australian bushranger, recently extinct, 
 was a bandit of very ancient type. We cannot call him a 
 highwayman, for he rejoiced in the scarcity of highways. 
 He lived in the scrub and the waste hills, whence he 
 operated against the little oases of civilisation that dotted 
 the far-spreading wilderness. The bushrangers who pre- 
 ceded the Kellys, however, had more in common than they 
 with our highwaymen of the last century. They did business, 
 it seems, chiefly with travellers and mail-coaches. The last 
 of this old-fashioned school was a man named Power, who 
 was extinguishedeight years before the Kellys went to work. 
 The scene of his exploits was the same that was afterwards 
 dignified by the labours of his successors — in the north of the 
 colony of Victoria about Benalla. But after his extinction 
 several years elapsed before any other bushranger took the 
 field against society. Times had changed, and the risks of 
 the business were increasing. To Ned Kelly and his com- 
 rades belongs the credit of attempting the revival of this 
 declining branch of industry. And not only did they revive 
 it, but they introduced improvements on the older methods ; 
 operating on a much larger scale than their comparatively 
 commonplace predecessors. Instead of coaches they robbed 
 
NED KELLY IN HIS ARMOUR. 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 323 
 
 banks ; they terrorised whole towns instead of a few tra- 
 vellers ; they aspired to wreck trains, and clear the country- 
 side altogether of that objectionable institution, the police. 
 
 By parentage Ned Kelly was an Irishman. His father, 
 John Kelly, had been sent out to do fifteen years' penal 
 servitude for killing a man in a faction fight at Belfast. 
 After his release he had married a certain Ellen Quin, an 
 Irish-Australian, whose family, says Superintendent Hare, 
 who ought to know, " were all thieves." This hopeful 
 couple had six children, of whom Ned, born probably in 
 1855, was the eldest. There were two brothers, James and 
 Daniel, and three sisters, Bridget, Mary and Kate. Dan 
 Kelly, who is almost as much the subject of this sketch as 
 Ned himself, was about five years younger than his elder 
 brother. 
 
 Ned's early childhood was passed on a farm near Avenel 
 in Victoria. He was, we may fairly say, born and bred to 
 robbery. His father, indeed, died while Ned was yet a little 
 boy, but the paternal teachings were not lost, and the mother 
 remained to enforce them. After the death of Mr. John 
 Kelly the family removed to another farm on Eleven Gun 
 Creek, four miles from the township of Greta, which itself is 
 about fifteen from Benalla, in the Murray district of northern 
 Victoria. 
 
 The Kelly boys grew up strong and hardy, with plenty of 
 early practice in riding their own horses and in stealing 
 those of other people. Their mother may well have chosen 
 her place of residence with reference to the predatory habits 
 of her family. Behind the farm was a wide stretch of 
 wilderness, with abundance of scrub and low hills — a 
 difficult country to travel in and an easy country to hide 
 in. At the age of fourteen Ned was already engaged in 
 the profitable and tolerably safe business of horse-stealing. 
 Horses straying in the bush were captured and sold; others, 
 purloined after a more enterprising fashion, were hidden in 
 the bush and produced on the offer of a reward. In this way 
 Ned became an apt and precocious student of bush-lore. 
 Before long he knew every yard of the country round Greta ; 
 he had learned how to track through the waste and how to 
 
334 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 conceal his own tracks. Police tracks in especial he studied 
 with care. At the age of fifteen Ned must already have 
 recognised the possibility that he might be forced to take 
 to living in the bush altogether. 
 
 But there was not enough in mere horse-stealing to satisfy 
 Ned's boyish ardour. When about fourteen years old he 
 engaged himself as assistant to the bushranger Power, 
 already referred to. With Power he served a short 
 apprenticeship. His part of the work was to hold horses 
 in readiness at a distance while Power went into action. 
 After a connection of less than a year's duration the two 
 separated, luckily for Ned, for Power was captured im- 
 mediately afterwards. After the dissolution of their 
 partnership they spoke evil of each other. Power accused 
 Ned of cowardice, declaring that he turned pale under fire. 
 Ned complained of the bushranger's bad temper, and said 
 he would have been murdered had he stayed with him. 
 
 Ned now again devoted himself with great energy to the 
 stealing of horses and cattle, aided henceforth by his brother 
 Dan. In the following years the two brothers became the 
 terror of the farmers and drovers of the country about Greta. 
 Their doings were soon notorious, and were sadly interfered 
 with by the police. Several times they were convicted, and 
 in 1871 Ned was sent to prison for three years. But the 
 business was too exciting, and probably too profitable, to be 
 abandoned, and the brothers held to it till, in the April of 
 1878, the crisis came. 
 
 At that time Dan Kelly happened to be wanted by the 
 police, though, for some reason, Ned was not. Constable 
 Fitzpatrick accordingly went to the lonely farmhouse on 
 Eleven Gun Creek to arrest him. It was a very rash 
 proceeding, especially as the constable seems to have been 
 unarmed. In the house he found, apparently, the man he 
 wanted, along with Mrs. Kelly and Ned and two friends 
 of the family, men named Williamson and Skillian. 
 Skillian had married Ned's sister Bridget. The parley 
 grew hot, and the Kellys were overpowered by their indigna- 
 tion at being thus interfered with. Mrs. Kelly seized the 
 fire-shovel and knocked the intruder down, and, in the 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 325 
 
 scuffle that ensued, a pistol was fired, probably by Dan, 
 and the policeman hit in the wrist. The disabled officer 
 of the law was then graciously permitted to depart, first 
 swearing that he would reveal nothing of what had happened. 
 This promise he, naturally, did not keep. 
 
 It was a very serious affair for the brothers. Ned, as an 
 old offender, could hope for no mercy from the defied 
 authorities. Dan, who was of an even more reckless 
 spirit, was by no means inclined tamely to submit to 
 imprisonment. The bush or the prison was the alternative 
 before the two young men, and they were off to the bush at 
 once. The police, a little too late, arrested their valiant 
 mother and Messrs. Skillian and Williamson, and shortly 
 after a reward of £100 was offered for the apprehension of the 
 brothers. 
 
 Shortly after this retreat into the desert, whereby the 
 Kellys first cut themselves loose altogether from society, 
 they were joined by two other young men, by name Joe 
 Byrne and Stephen Hart. Byrne was twenty-one years old, 
 a tall and powerful man, whose native place was Woolshed. 
 Later on he became invaluable, having a good head and 
 being able to read and write. He was even a poet, and 
 wrote songs which the four outlaws used to sing in the 
 wilderness. His subjects were the delights of bushranging 
 and the iniquities of the police. Steve Hart, twenty-four 
 years old, came from Wangaratta. He and Dan Kelly seem 
 to have been the most brutal and reckless members of the 
 gang. 
 
 To apprehend them was by no means easy. The four 
 young men were of the hardiest breed, inured to cold and 
 privation, able to sleep an abnormal number of hours at 
 a stretch, and hence to bear the lack of sleep if necessary ; 
 and they knew the country and its ways thoroughly. 
 Imagine a far more extensive Dartmoor, thickly overgrown 
 with trees and shrubs, with farms and small hamlets dotted 
 about, and no roads to speak of ; in such a country it would 
 not be easy to arrest four well-armed and mounted men, who 
 knew every track and covert and cleft in the hills. Roughly 
 speaking, and allowing for the difference of vegetation and 
 
326 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 the comparative scarcity of water, such was the country in 
 which the Kellys maintained themselves for over two years 
 in defiance of the resources of civilisation. They had plenty 
 of room besides. Their range extended from the Wombat 
 Hills in the south, beyond Greta, for more than a hundred 
 miles to the north, over the New South Wales frontier. 
 
 Nevertheless it would have been impossible from the first 
 for them to have held out but for the co-operation of their 
 respective families and the general disinclination to assist 
 the police. Among the rude and rather primitive settlers of 
 this wild and extensive tract of country the police seem to 
 have been unpopular. At all events none of them were 
 inclined, even for £ioo, to risk interference with desperate 
 men on behalf of the public good. And on the other hand, 
 the comparatively law-abiding members of the families of 
 Kelly, Byrne, and Hart, were active and even zealous on 
 behalf of the outlaws. Mrs. Kelly, indeed, was in prison, 
 and remained there till the end of the story, but Ned's 
 sisters, especially Bridget Skillian and Kate, were of 
 immense service. A system of " bush telegraphs " was 
 soon concerted, and by means of such signalling from hill 
 to hill, as well as by more direct means of communication, 
 the four men were kept well informed of the movements of 
 the parties of police in search of them. When the Greta 
 district was too thickly beset with men of the law they could 
 move off to Wangaratta, and be in touch with the Harts, or 
 to Woolshed, where the Byrnes came to their aid. 
 
 But a collision with the police was sure to occur sooner 
 or later. After six months of bush life the whereabouts of 
 the fugitives was betrayed to the police in October, 1878. 
 The betrayer repented himself immediately afterwards, 
 for he thereupon proceeded to betray the plans of the 
 police to the fugitives. They were then ensconced in the 
 Wombat Hills ; and thither Sergeant Kennedy with three 
 constables, all mounted and fully armed, were sent to take 
 them. To send only four men to arrest four others equally 
 well armed, seems somewhat rash, but doubtless the authori- 
 ties had no more men available and the opportunity seemed 
 too good to let slip. 
 
EDWARD KELLY. VH 
 
 On this occasion, forewarned and aware of the weakness 
 of their enemy, the bushrangers resolved to teach the police 
 a lesson. It seems clear that they would have had no 
 difficulty in avoiding the police party if they had chosen to 
 do so, but they chose to do the contrary. Ned, as com- 
 mander-in-chief, was responsible for this decision, but no 
 more than that can be said. What exactly was the design 
 of the bushrangers there is nothing to show, but the result 
 of their action compromised them hopelessly. 
 
 The small police party camped in the scrub among the 
 hills, unwitting of the fact that the men they had come for 
 were actually watching them. In the afternoon two of them. 
 Sergeant Kennedy and a man named Scanlan, rode off to 
 reconnoitre ; the others, Lonergan and Mclntyre, remaining 
 at the camp. The two men sat outside the tent without 
 thought of danger, and Mclntyre unarmed. Suddenly, 
 with a cry of " Bail up and throw up your hands ! " there 
 were four rifles levelled at them from close quarters. 
 Mclntyre obeyed; Lonergan made an attempt to draw his 
 revolver and was shot dead on the spot by one of the 
 Kellys. 
 
 All four of the bushrangers were on the scene. They 
 possessed themselves of all the arms in the tent, and bade 
 Mclntyre keep where he was. He was to warn the other 
 policemen on their return that resistance was useless, and 
 tell them that they would be shot if they did not surrender. 
 The bushrangers concealed themselves in the scrub close at 
 hand, and all five men were quiet, waiting. At last Kennedy 
 and Scanlan appeared. When they were close to the tent 
 Mclntyre rose to meet them, calling out, " The bushrangers 
 are in possession. You had better surrender." Both the 
 men addressed, acting on the first impulse of brave men, 
 sprang from their horses with intent to fight. Scanlan was 
 shot dead on the instant ; Kennedy got behind his horse as 
 cover, but the horse, misliking the situation, bolted. As the 
 horse plunged past him Constable Mclntyre sprang on it 
 and managed to scramble into the saddle. The terrified 
 beast carried him headlong away through the scrub, and 
 Kennedy was left alone to face the four ruffians. Even now 
 
328 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 he would not surrender, but ran for his life from tree to tree, 
 turning and firing back as he went. At last, a quarter of a 
 mile from the camp, he lay in the scrub, badly wounded and 
 his revolver empty. For the sake of his wife and children 
 he begged his life. If Hart and Byrne had done their part 
 in the previous murders his life, it seems, might have been 
 spared. But the prudent Ned, as he told Aaron Sherrit, of 
 whom we shall hear later, feared that they " might round 
 upon him, as they had not killed a man yet." He therefore 
 ordered the two of them to discharge their rifles into 
 Kennedy's body, and the order was obeyed. Having 
 compromised his comrades by this piece of brutality, Ned, 
 with curious inconsistency, proceeded to show his respect 
 for the dead man's courage by fetching a coat from the 
 camp to cover his body. " He was the bravest man I ever 
 heard of," said Ned. 
 
 Meanwhile Constable Mclntyre, sole survivor of the expe- 
 dition, reached a place of safety and told his story. Another 
 party of police was forthwith despatched to the scene of the 
 encounter. The bushrangers had of course decamped. We 
 obtain an idea of the difficulties against which the police had 
 to contend in the bush when we learn that, after arriving at 
 the desolate camp, it took them three days to find Kennedy's 
 body lying in the scrub a quarter of a mile distant. Ned and 
 his comrades were now formally outlawed, and the reward 
 for their capture was increased to £i,ooo. 
 
 The position of the outlaws was now becoming des- 
 perate. If they were taken it would be a hanging 
 matter for all of them ; and the police, active before, were 
 certain to be far more active than ever. Moreover, the 
 reward of ;fi,ooo might reasonably be expected to induce 
 many persons hitherto neutral to take sides with the police. 
 Even their own relatives could not be supposed to be above 
 temptation. Under these circumstances it is somewhat 
 strange that the outlaws should have made no attempt to 
 get clear of the districts in which they were known, 
 altogether. But the dangers and difficulties of a northerly 
 march into the unsettled wilderness of central New South 
 Wales, through which they might have hoped to reach 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 329 
 
 a new country and start life afresh, would doubtless have 
 been great. They preferred to remain at bay. But in order 
 to do so with any prospect of ultimate escape, it was 
 absolutely imperative to have money. They did not want 
 money for themselves — it could be of little or no use in the 
 bush ; but the Government had set a heavy price on their 
 heads, and it was necessary to meet the Government with 
 its own weapons. Money, in fact, was necessary to enable 
 them to maintain the zeal of their relatives, and to purchase 
 assistance or connivance on all sides outside their own 
 families. Hitherto, during their outing in the bush, they 
 had abstained from robbery, obtaining their food supply 
 partly from their relatives and partly living on what they 
 could pick up in the bush, where rabbits and other small 
 game were to be had for the shooting. Hitherto they had 
 lived merely as fugitive outlaws, now circumstances com- 
 pelled them to take to brigandage. And it would be, 
 moreover, of no use to rob mere travellers, or to raid isolated 
 farms ; petty gains would not serve their turn. If they were 
 to maintain their position they were bound to operate on 
 a large scale. 
 
 After some two months of devious and uncertain wander- 
 ings they resolved on a grand coup : nothing less than the 
 robbery of the bank at Euroa, a little town lying on the 
 railway between Melbourne and Sydney, and not far from 
 the Wombat Hills. Whose the idea was we cannot say; 
 but it was Joe Byrne who worked out the details of the 
 plan of action, wrote them out fair on paper, and read them 
 over to his comrades till each man knew his part perfectly. 
 
 On the southern side of Euroa, about three miles from the 
 little town and close to the railway, was a station farm 
 called Faithful Creek. This place was fixed on as their base 
 of operations against the bank. The plan of the bushrangers 
 was simplicity itself, but required caution, no less than 
 audacity, to carry into successful execution. They were to 
 go to Euroa and obtain admission to the bank after the closing 
 hour, to overpower any one who might still be within, and 
 secure the booty. But, this done, it would never do to 
 simply ride off with the plunder, leaving their prisoners to 
 
330 TWELVE SAD MEN. 
 
 raise the hue and cry. Neither would bonds and gagging 
 afford sufficiently complete security. They must have a safe 
 place wherein to bestow their prisoners, while they made 
 good their escape to the bush. Faithful Creek was to serve 
 as a temporary prison. 
 
 In the morning of the loth of December, 1878, the four 
 men appeared, on horseback, at Faithful Creek. Only an 
 old man and an old woman were in the house when they 
 arrived, the rest of the population of the station being out 
 at work. The bushrangers stabled and fed their horses, 
 which had probably been ridden far and were in need of rest. 
 The two old people naturally offered no sort of resistance. 
 As the men working about the farm dropped in to dinner by 
 ones, twos, and threes, they were seized by the bushrangers, 
 who had their revolvers cocked, and thrust into a large 
 store-room, a wooden structure about six paces from the 
 main building. Mr. McAulay, the master, was served like 
 the rest. Since the bushrangers had resolved on making 
 Faithful Creek their base of operations, it was manifestly 
 necessary to secure every one about the place, lest the alarm 
 should be given in Euroa. The women of the station were 
 not, however, imprisoned with the men, but remained free 
 in the house to attend on their captors, who, when every one 
 was secure, proceeded to rest and refresh themselves, making 
 their prisoners preliminarily taste everything they chose 
 to eat, in fear of poison. The arrival of a hawker, with a 
 cart full of miscellaneous wares, produced momentary dis- 
 turbance. The hawker, finding bushrangers in possession 
 and seeing little chance of doing any profitable trade, desired 
 to move on. This, of course, could not be allowed ; but, 
 in spite of an intimation to that effect, the man obstinately 
 endeavoured to get back into his cart. Dan Kelly would 
 have shot him on the spot, without a moment's grace or 
 parley, had not Ned interfered to prevent the useless murder. 
 Mr. McAulay was then brought out from the store-room 
 to reason with the recalcitrant hawker, who was at length 
 persuaded to go and take his place in the store-room with 
 the rest. Then the bushrangers rifled his cart, dressed 
 themselves in new clothes from it, and used his scent- 
 bottles plentifully. 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 331 
 
 They were in no hurry, and intended to spend the night at 
 the station. The delay appears somewhat risky, but it was 
 perhaps necessary for the sake of the horses. The afternoon 
 hours dragged somewhat under the circumstances ; and Dan 
 Kelly was inclined to pass away the time by insulting the 
 women prisoners. Ned, however, having doubtless sense to 
 perceive the danger of such practices, put a stop to this 
 amusement. The night passed with two of the bushrangers 
 on guard while the others slept. 
 
 On the following morning there was still nothing to do but 
 wait. It was no use getting to Euroa till the bank was closed. 
 Two gentlemen who came by on horseback, with their servants. 
 Were seized and thrust into the store-room ; but no other 
 incident of note occurred. Before the time of starting, how- 
 ever, the outlaws took the precaution to cut the telegraph 
 wires on each side of Euroa. The break in the communica- 
 tions having been noticed, a man sent to see about it arrived 
 at Faithful Creek and was promptly conducted to the store- 
 room. At last the time came for a move, and soon after 
 two p.m., Ned and Dan and Steve Hart started for Euroa, 
 leaving the horses and the prisoners in charge of Joe Byrne. 
 Hart rode ; the other two went in the hawker's cart, taking 
 the hawker's boy to drive and make himself useful generally. 
 They took with them, also, a cheque on the bank, kindly 
 written for them by Mr. McAulay. They timed themselves 
 precisely, arriving at the bank a few minutes after it had 
 closed for the day, Hart having meanwhile put up his horse 
 at the hotel. Ned presented himself at the front door, 
 cheque in hand and revolver hidden. On being informed 
 that he was too late, Ned was voluble concerning the incon- 
 venience of not getting his cheque cashed that day, with the 
 result that the clerk good-naturedly let him in. Ned closed 
 the door behind him, and a second later had his pistol at the 
 man's head. Meanwhile Hart had managed to force an 
 entrance at the back, and he too now appeared on the scene. 
 Under these circumstances the clerk surrendered without 
 noise or fuss, and was securely tied up and deposited on the 
 floor. The marauders then went to the private room of the 
 bank manager, a Mr. Scott. They found him sitting at a 
 
332 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 table on which, close to his hand, lay a loaded revolver. He 
 turned half round. " Bail up ! " said Ned, quietly, with 
 levelled pistol. Mr. Scott instinctively reached towards his 
 revolver; then, only just in time, recognised that his adver- 
 saries were beforehand with him and meant business. He 
 stayed his hand and submitted to be bound like his clerk. 
 Masters of the situation, the bushrangers proceeded to 
 ransack the bank, securing about ;^2,ooo in notes and cash. 
 But there was more to be done. Mr. Scott lived on the 
 premises and had a wife and family. Ned therefore intro- 
 duced himself to Mrs. Scott, and, with his Irish courtesy, 
 explained the situation. The lady at first was incredulous 
 and declined to believe that he could really be a bushranger : 
 his manners were too good. Ned, however, succeeded in 
 convincing her that the fact was so. He informed her, 
 politely but firmly, that she must immediately order her 
 carriage and drive out to Faithful Creek with her children 
 and servants. He himself would accompany them in his 
 cart along with Mr. Scott and the clerk. Any attempt to 
 draw the attention of passers-by on the road to the peculiar 
 circumstances of this country drive would, he intimated, 
 infallibly bring instant death to whomsoever made it. 
 
 The lady cheerily accepted the situation, and the queer 
 party set out. On the way Ned conversed pleasantly with 
 Mr. Scott, and told him the story of the encounter in 
 the Wombat Hills. Faithful Creek was reached without 
 mishap. There Joe Byrne, heavily armed, had been walking 
 round and round the store-room in which were the prisoners. 
 When the party from Euroa appeared in sight he thought 
 proper to bring them all out and range them in a row- 
 They found him walking up and down the line of prisoners, 
 with his belt stuck full of revolvers and two guns in his 
 hands. All the men, however, along with the new arrivals, 
 were now sent back into the store-room, and the women, 
 children, and bushrangers had tea. The bushrangers were 
 naturally elated, and laughed and chatted gaily. After tea 
 they got out their horses and prepared to start for the bush 
 again. Before leaving, however, Ned thoughtfully went to 
 the store-room to give some parting directions. " If any one 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 333 
 
 of you," he said to the prisoners, " leave this place within 
 three hours, I will shoot that man dead. You cannot escape 
 me in this country, and I assure you I will keep my word." 
 He then asked one of the gentlemen captured that morning 
 to hand over his watch as a memento of the occasion. The 
 gentleman in question objecting that the watch was a keep- 
 sake from his dead mother, " I will never take that," said 
 Ned ; and he took Mr. McAulay's instead. With this little 
 episode the stay of Ned's party at Faithful Creek ended. 
 They went off, leaving all the men prisoners locked up 
 except Mr. McAulay, who was made specially responsible 
 for their not leaving the place till eleven o'clock that night. 
 When Mr. Scott reached Euroa again, at midnight, he found 
 the town still wholly unconscious of what had happened. 
 
 The business had been very neatly managed; and it is 
 clear that Ned's mates understood the necessity of a strict 
 obedience to orders. Careful investment of the money now 
 in hand might enable them to defy all the efforts of the 
 police for some time to come. Round about Euroa there 
 was regular panic, and many wild reports were afloat. The 
 Melbourne Argus was highly indignant, and the Government 
 increased its activity. All the banks round Euroa were 
 specially guarded. But the bushrangers were flushed with 
 success and bolder than ever. Two months had not passed 
 before they made a still more daring coup in another 
 quarter. 
 
 This was at Jerilderie, a small township or village of 
 between two and three hundred inhabitants in New South 
 Wales, sixty miles north of the Murray River, and at least 
 one hundred and twenty miles from Euroa. In going so far 
 north the bushrangers broke new ground altogether, and had 
 the advantage of operating in a district where they could 
 hardly be expected. Jerilderie, in spite of its petty popu- 
 lation, boasted four hotels, a police-station half a mile from 
 the town, with two mounted constables, and the essential 
 feature — a bank. 
 
 At midnight on Saturday, the gth of February, 1879, after 
 what was probably a very hard ride, Ned and his mates were 
 outside the Jerilderie police-station. They shouted the police- 
 
334 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 men awake, and when the sleepy men put their heads out to 
 inquire the cause of the disturbance they were informed 
 that a drunken, man had done murder in the town. There- 
 upon the constables, by name Devine and Richards, hastily 
 dressed and came forth, when they were promptly seized 
 and reduced to silence and submission with threatening 
 revolvers. The keys of the lock-up were then taken from 
 them and they were run in. There they might yell for 
 assistance to their heart's content ; nobody would suppose 
 that they were other than riotous drunkards justly incar- 
 cerated. The police of the town thus disposed of, Ned and 
 his friends proceeded to make prisoners the wife and children 
 of Devine, and shut them up in one of the rooms, where 
 Hart stood sentry over them. They informed Mrs. Devine 
 that if she made a noise the two constables would be killed 
 first and she and the children afterwards. They then 
 collected all the arms in the station, stabled their horses 
 in the police stables, and waited quietly for the morning. 
 Probably none of them had ever been in the place before, 
 and it was therefore impossible to go at once to the bank. 
 Moreover, the next day was Sunday ; the bank would be 
 closed all day, and there might be difi&culty in getting in 
 or in doing much when they got in. They had probably 
 resolved to stay over the Sunday and do their business on 
 the following day. 
 
 To act thus required caution no less than boldness. Mrs. 
 Devine was accustomed on Sunday morning to prepare the 
 church for service. Her absence would be remarked ; so 
 when the morning came she was bidden to get about her 
 business as usual, Joe Byrne attending her to the church to 
 ensure her good behaviour. Later on in the day Ned and 
 Steve Hart, having donned policemen's uniforms, took Con- 
 stable Richards out of the lock-up and made him walk about 
 the town with them in friendly fashion as brother officers 
 of the law. He was compelled to point out the principal 
 buildings to them, including, of course, the bank, and to 
 explain to any one who was curious that the strangers were 
 fresh policemen just sent in for the better security of life and 
 property at Jerilderie. It was death to disobey, and he sub- 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 335 
 
 mitted to his part. Let us hope that he was not altogether 
 unconsoled by a sense of the humour of the situation. 
 
 In this manner the Sunday was safely passed, and on the 
 following morning the bushrangers, having completed their 
 plans, set to work in earnest. To begin with, one of them, 
 in the guise of one of Jerilderie's new protectors, took two 
 horses to be shod and brought them back to the police 
 stables. At eleven in the morning the whole four went 
 in a body to the Royal Hotel, which stood only a few steps 
 from the bank, leaving the constables, and, presumably, 
 Mrs. Devine and the children, safe in the lock-up. Ned 
 politely explained matters to the hotel manager, and pro- 
 mised that no one should be hurt who did not make himself 
 unpleasant. The manager, no doubt, was duly deferential ; 
 and the bushrangers now made the hotel their headquarters. 
 The bank clerks at least had to be incarcerated somewhere 
 before the adventurers could safely leave Jerilderie with 
 their spoils, and it appears that the lock-up was full. But 
 in the hotel there was a large dining-room which would 
 excellently serve the purpose. 
 
 All persons in the hotel were now conducted to this room 
 and shut up ; and it was necessary to deal similarly with 
 every one who came to the hotel in the course of the day. 
 After securing the hotel Ned and his brother went down to 
 the bank, leaving the other two on guard. At the bank they 
 had no difficulty, Mr. Tarleton, the manager, a powerful 
 man who had just returned from a forty miles' ride, was 
 surprised by Dan in his bath. He could make no resistance, 
 and was marched off to the hotel. The two accountants 
 also surrendered without giving trouble. One of them was 
 taken straightway to the hotel, the other remained with Ned 
 to open the safes for him. Ned took all the cash and notes 
 he could find, and burned four of the bank books. Then he 
 returned to the hotel with his prisoner. 
 
 The deed was now done, and only the final preparations 
 for a retreat remained to be made. Two of the bushrangers 
 went to the telegraph office, overhauled the messages sent 
 during the day, cut the wires, and brought the clerks back, 
 prisoners, to the hotel. 
 
336 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 By this time, it may well be supposed, a good many 
 persons in the little town, besides those in the hotel, knew 
 that bushrangers were in possession. Some of these, how- 
 ever, were " sympathisers," and the rest prudently held 
 their peace. Public spirit, strong enough to make a man 
 risk his life for the protection of things in general, is not 
 a commonly diffused quality ; and few people have won the 
 right to complain of its absence. On their side the bush- 
 rangers were fully conscious of the moral strength of their 
 position. They did not hurry themselves to be off. Ned 
 is even related to have sauntered into another hotel and 
 had a chat with the landlord. " Any one can shoot me," 
 he cheerily remarked, " but they would have to take the 
 consequences : every man in the town would be shot." As 
 he happened to want a new horse, he selected a blood mare 
 from the stable of McDougall's hotel, and sent Dan out for 
 a canter to try it. 
 
 At length it was really time to be off. The horses were 
 brought round, and Ned paid a farewell visit to his prisoners. 
 Steve Hart, who had been guarding them, had taken several 
 watches. These Ned now made him return, remarking that 
 he did not want to take private property; all he wanted 
 was bank-money. Nevertheless, he thought proper to take 
 the watch of Mr. Tarleton himself. Presumably the property 
 of the bank manager was in the same category as " bank- 
 money " in Ned's mind. Before leaving he delivered a short 
 oration. He had never, he said, committed a crime till that 
 encounter in the Wombat Hills ; he had stolen 280 horses, 
 but that was all. He was an unfortunate, persecuted 
 fellow. How would they, he asked the prisoners, like to 
 have constables coming to their houses and threatening 
 their mothers and sisters with revolvers? After that he 
 rode off with his comrades, taking one of the police horses 
 to carry the booty. Ned and Hart seem to have gone off 
 in the police uniforms they had worn all through. As a 
 last piece of bravado, and to finish the exploit with a noble 
 flourish, Hart and . Dan rode wildly up and down the 
 principal street, singing, shouting, and waving their re- 
 volvers, before they galloped after the others. Three days 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 337 
 
 later a correspondent of The Melbourne Argus significantly 
 writes : " The last of the known confederates of the Kellys 
 cleared out this afternoon." 
 
 After this feat the Governments of Victoria and New 
 South Wales joined in offering a reward of £8,000 for the 
 apprehension of the " Kelly gang " — the largest reward, we 
 may add, that has ever been offered for the capture of 
 bushrangers in Australia. Yet, in spite of the reward, and 
 in spite of the great exertions now made by the police, under 
 the energetic direction of Superintendent Hare, Ned and his 
 companions defied all the efforts of the authorities for more 
 than a year to come. It is a remarkable fact that, from 
 October, 1878, when the encounter in the Wombat Hills 
 had taken place, to June, 1880, not one of the numerous 
 search parties of police seems ever to have set eyes on 
 the bushrangers. All that time they were riding up and 
 down the country, making occasional raids ; and all that 
 time they eluded the police absolutely. After the robbery 
 at Jerilderie, indeed, the activity of the police prevented 
 the outlaws from making any more raids on a grand scale ; 
 from that time onwards they had to be content with com- 
 paratively petty freebooting. But that, after the Jerilderie 
 robbery and the offer of £8,000 reward, the outlaws should 
 have continued at liberty for more than a year is, perhaps, 
 the most notable fact in the whole story. 
 
 It is clear that they owed their liberty primarily to the 
 money obtained at Euroa and Jerilderie. It is to be 
 remarked that even the notes seized at the latter place 
 were practically available, inasmuch as the numbers of 
 them were quite unknown to the Jerilderie authorities. 
 And the money was well and generously invested. Super- 
 intendent Hare found that the countryside was full of 
 " sympathisers " — persons, that is, who had shared or hoped 
 to share in the profits of the bushrangers. It appears very 
 unlikely that, outside the families of Kelly, Hart, and Byrne, 
 there can have been many " sympathisers " of any other 
 kind. But, in return for the stolen goods, the friends of the 
 bushrangers were active to supply them with necessaries 
 and, above all, with intelligence concerning police move- 
 
 23 
 
338 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 ments. " It was wonderful," says Mr. Hare, " how all the 
 trains were watched by Kelly sympathisers." As for the 
 families of the outlaws, they became more than ever active 
 in the cause as the danger increased, their zeal being 
 doubtless stimulated by a large share of the proiits. Ned's 
 sisters, Bridget and Katie, in particular, were constantly to 
 be seen riding about the hills on errands, the nature of 
 which was indubitable ; and Joe Byrne's mother was a no 
 less valuable ally. The two young women spent money 
 freely, and Katie, says Mr. Hare, " rode a good horse, and 
 wore lots of jewellery ;' the latter, however," he adds, 
 " disappeared if there was a long interval between the 
 robberies." And, besides all these interested allies, there 
 was doubtless a large number of people far too fearful of 
 possible consequences to venture to give any aid to the 
 police. On their side, too, the outlaws did what they could 
 to avoid arousing more hostility than was needful. They 
 never robbed a poor man or insulted a woman. 
 
 The police worked indefatigably. They spent days and 
 nights camping out in the unfamiliar bush, suffering 
 tortures from cold, weariness, and hunger. They employed 
 natives, " black trackers " as they were called, to track the 
 outlaws through the wilderness. They kept assiduous watch 
 on the doings of the families of the bushrangers. But they 
 were heavily handicapped, and the vigilance of their enemies 
 proved too much for them. 
 
 On one occasion the police suffered a repulse, both humili- 
 ating and painful. This time it was Mrs. Byrne who played 
 the part of heroine. Superintendent Hare had secured the 
 services of an old friend of the Kellys, who had been a 
 partner with them in their horse-stealing days — a strange 
 being named Aaron Sherrit. Aaron was still in the con- 
 fidence of the bushrangers when he sold himself to the 
 police, Mr. Hare promising him the £8,000 reward if the 
 gang should be caught through his agency. His special 
 knowledge and the fact that he was a good and hardy 
 bushman made him a very valuable ally. He was an 
 oddity, too, of the first-class : a born thief, and candid and 
 treacherous as a child. "Whatever number of horses I 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 339 
 
 had," he told Hare, " I could not help stealing my neigh- 
 bours' 1 " 
 
 It was Aaron's opinion that, sooner or later, the outlaws 
 were sure to pay a visit to old ' Mrs. Byrne at Woolshed. 
 His plan was simple. The police were to camp out in an 
 admirably concealed hollow in the bush and wait for the 
 bushrangers. During the day they were to lie close in their 
 hiding-place, and each night to creep down close to 
 the house. The scheme was put into execution, and for 
 twenty-three days and nights Superintendent Hare and his 
 men camped out accordingly. Aaron himself spent his 
 days and nights with the police and his evenings with Mrs. 
 Byrne and her daughter, to whom he was engaged to be 
 married. Every day Mrs. Byrne was in the habit of walking 
 about looking for police tracks ; and she very soon found 
 them. A whittled stick in her stockyard first caught her 
 attention; and the same evening she informed Aaron, 
 positively, that the police were about the place. Aaron 
 spent the next day in an assiduous mock search for police 
 tracks, and told Mrs. Byrne in the evening that she had 
 been mistaken, and there were none. The old lady knew 
 better, and the only result of Aaron's asseverations was to 
 draw her shrewd suspicions upon himself. 
 
 Honest Aaron was greatly offended by the unreasonable 
 suspicions of his intended mother-in-law, and he took 
 characteristic revenge by stealing a horse of hers and 
 selling it. The theft was traced to him, and Mrs. Byrne 
 obtained a warrant. When reproached for introducing this 
 awkward complication, Aaron's reply was sublimely in- 
 genuous. " I could not help it," said he. " I did not want 
 the horse, but Mrs. Byrne has not behaved well to me 
 lately ; she has been so cool that I felt I must do something 
 to her." 
 
 On the other hand Mrs. Byrne, who prowled about day 
 after day in order to make certain of the whereabouts of the 
 police, at length discovered their hiding-place. In con- 
 sequence it became palpably useless to remain there any 
 longer, and the camp was broken up. The police had 
 'suffered severely from cold and exposure, not having once 
 
340 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 dared to light a fire the whole twenty-three days. The 
 whole party was more or less knocked up, and Mr. Hare 
 himself was forced to obtain sick leave for a time. It is 
 clear that the police, who did not know the bush and were 
 no hardier than ordinary civilised men, were at a great 
 disadvantage. The four bushrangers seem to have cared 
 nothing for cold and exposure, and to have been able to 
 sleep under any circumstances and for any required length 
 of time. They had only one greatcoat among them, and 
 this afforded them amply sufficient covering at night, while 
 the police were encumbered with the rugs and wraps under 
 which they shivered. The outlaws, according to Aaron 
 Sherrit, slept as he did himself, curled up like a dog, their 
 heads between their knees. Aaron himself could sleep in 
 this wild-beast fashion on the coldest night, with no cover- 
 ing but his ordinary clothes, and he declared himself to be 
 far less hardy than the four outlaws. 
 
 After the defeat at Woolshed the police tried the effect 
 of arresting the whole of the near relations of the bush- 
 rangers. About twenty persons were arrested at a swoop, 
 on the charge of aiding and abetting the Kelly gang. But 
 absolutely no positive evidence could be obtained against 
 them. The magistrates did what they could, and kept 
 remanding the prisoners from week to week, till it became 
 absolutely necessary to discharge them. The manoeuvre 
 had no other result than to increase the unpopularity under 
 which the police laboured. 
 
 It almost seems as if the outlaws might have continued 
 at large for an indefinitely long period had they not run 
 their own necks into the noose. But that they did so 
 resulted from the very nature of the situation in which 
 they were placed. Their safety depended, ultimately, on 
 their power to purchase support, and such purchase was 
 expensive. The proceeds of the robberies at Euroa and 
 Jerilderie became exhausted, and petty thefts were quite 
 insufficient to supply their needs. By June, 1880, the out- 
 laws found themselves under the necessity of attempting 
 another grand coup. In face of the vigilance and activity of 
 the police the risk was enormous ; but they could not help 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 34i 
 
 themselves. " Their sisters," says Mr. Hare, " were in debt 
 everywhere," and probably even their sisters were likely to 
 be seriously influenced by such considerations. Without 
 fresh capital for investment the concern must collapse. 
 
 Under pressure of these circumstances the outlaws adopted 
 a scheme more daringly ambitious than any they had yet 
 undertaken. Their objective was the bank at Benalla ; but 
 they were well aware that the raid could not be made 
 successfully in the casual fashion of the raid on Jerilderie. 
 It was absolutely necessary, at least, to draw off the police 
 at Benalla in a wrong direction. But they aspired to do 
 more than that. On the line between Benalla and a little 
 place called Beechworth, lay a small station, at Glenrowan. 
 At Beechworth lived Aaron Sherrit, now married, though 
 not to Miss Byrne. Mrs. Byrne had, doubtless, ere this, 
 let the outlaws know her suspicions of Aaron, and it is even 
 probable that she knew more of the matter than the police 
 supposed. If Aaron should be murdered at Beechworth on 
 a Saturday night a party of police would be made up at 
 Benalla and sent by special train to Beechworth as soon as 
 possible. There were no ordinary trains on the Sunday, and 
 the special would not stop at Glenrowan. Meanwhile the 
 outlaws would have taken up the rails at a certain con- 
 venient spot just beyond Glenrowan station. The special 
 would be wrecked, and the outlaws near at hand to finish off 
 any chance survivors. Rid of the police they could then 
 ride on the fourteen miles to Benalla and loot the bank there 
 at leisure. 
 
 It was an excellent, if desperate, device. Its failure would 
 not necessitate the capture or death of the contrivers. Its 
 success would mean not merely the acquisition of fresh 
 capital, but an immense increase of prestige, a terrible blow 
 to the ardour of the police and revenge on a traitor into the 
 bargain. It was extremely difficult of execution ; but, if the 
 worst came and the outlaws had to fight for their lives, they 
 were by no means ill-prepared. Not only were they tolerably 
 well armed ; they were armoured also. Each man had by 
 him a complete "suit" of body armour, rudely forged out of 
 old plough-shares, and weighing 97 lbs. The iron plates 
 
342 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 were a quarter of an inch thick, and, as was proved, would 
 keep out bullets very effectually. When this armour was 
 first adopted by the outlaws is uncertain, but it does not 
 appear that they wore it either at Euroa or Jerilderie. It 
 had probably been made after the latter exploit, and was 
 doubtless the work of some skilled local artisan. 
 
 Late in the evening of Saturday, the 25th of June, 1880, 
 Aaron Sherrit was called upon by an acquaintance of his, 
 knocking at his door and asking information about the way to 
 somewhere. Aaron came out to give it, and as soon as he 
 appeared at the open door he was shot dead by Dan Kelly 
 and Byrne, who were in attendance. There were four 
 constables actually in the house at the time. Some hours 
 later, at about half-past two on the Sunday morning, two 
 platelayers at Glenrowan were roused from sleep by Ned 
 Kelly and Hart. They were forced to dress hastily and 
 proceed to the point on the line that had been fixed upon. 
 A mile and a half beyond Glenrowan station, on the way to 
 Beechworth, the line ran down a rather steep incline and 
 then took a sharp curve. On one side of the curve was 
 a deep gully. Ned made the platelayers take up the rails 
 just beyond the incline. From above, the break in the line 
 would be invisible till it was too late, and the train, with 
 its gathered momentum, would be hurled sheer down the 
 gully. Decidedly, when this had happened, there would not 
 be much trouble with survivors. 
 
 It was, of course, absolutely necessary to confine the 
 platelayers and the station-master till the smash had taken 
 place. The station-master, his wife and family, with the 
 platelayers, were locked up most of the Sunday in the 
 railway official's own house under guard of Steve Hart ; 
 but Glenrowan itself was fixed on as the headquarters. 
 Early on the Sunday morning the outlaws arrived at 
 Jones's Hotel, Glenrowan. They took possession, and 
 selected a large room as a temporary lock-up, thrusting 
 into it at once all persons found in the hotel. Then 
 they quietly awaited the arrival of the doomed special, 
 making prisoners meanwhile of as many people as they 
 caught about the hotel, and bringing over the station-master 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 343 
 
 and platelayers in the course of the day. By nightfall there 
 were no less than sixty-two persons under guard in the hotel ; 
 but it is clear that many of these were of the sympathetic 
 class. Among them was the solitary Glenrowan policeman, 
 an efficient officer named Bracken, who had been lured out 
 of the police-station and marched oif to the hotel under the 
 usual threats. 
 
 Ned made no secret of the horrible catastrophe he was 
 waiting for. On the contrary, he was frankly jubilant ; 
 forcibly, if not elegantly, remarking that he meant to "fill 
 
 all the ruts round with the fat carcases of the police." 
 
 In spite of his candour the great majority of the prisoners 
 kept up their spirits wonderfully. They had long to wait : 
 the special train did not leave Melbourne till 10.15 on 
 Sunday night. In the evening the bushrangers and, ap- 
 parently, some of the prisoners commenced dancing to while 
 away the time. But there were some, at least, among the 
 prisoners who did their duty. Among these was a Mr. 
 Thomas Curnon, the Glenrowan schoolmaster, whose name 
 ought always to be honourably mentioned in connection with 
 this affair. He, with his wife and sister, had been stopped 
 as they drove home past the hotel and imprisoned with the 
 rest. Forcible escape was out of the question. All Mr. 
 Curnon could do was to endeavour, in the first place, to 
 gain the confidence of the outlaws. He loudly professed his 
 sympathy with them and his hatred of the police; he assured 
 Ned that he was vnth him heart and soul, and flattered and 
 fooled the desperado to the top of his bent. Ned became 
 quite genial. This result obtained, Mr. Curnon insinuated 
 that it would be only charitable to allow him to take his 
 wife, who was ill, home. There was some demur, but 
 eventually Ned foolishly consented to allow it. Mr. Curnon, 
 with his wife and sister, were allowed to go home under the 
 escort of a member of the gang. On their arrival they were 
 told that if one of them dared to leave the house all three 
 would be killed ; and, with this warning, their guard left 
 them, remarking further, however, that he would return in 
 half an hour to see that they were all safe. But Mr. Curnon 
 was not to be deterred either by these threats or by the 
 
344 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 terror and entreaties of his wife, whom he left faint- 
 ing. 
 
 The police special was late ; and it was lucky that it was 
 so, for had it not been nothing could have prevented the 
 disaster. As it was Mr. Curnon, driving along the line 
 towards Benalla, was only just in time. When the pilot 
 engine, which preceded the police train, arrived within a 
 mile of Glenrowan station a breathless man was standing on 
 the line in front, desperately holding up a red scarf before 
 a lighted candle. The pilot stopped. The man in front 
 shouted hurriedly that the rails were torn up beyond Glen- 
 rowan and the bushrangers in possession of the place. Then 
 he fled, without waiting to give details, crying that his wife 
 and children would be murdered if he were not back in time. 
 He had saved the train. Superintendent Hare expressly 
 states that under the circumstances the pilot engine would 
 have been useless. 
 
 Meanwhile, at the hotel where the dancing was going on. 
 Constable Bracken had, also, been doing his duty as he best 
 could. He, of course, was far too suspect a person to hope 
 to obtain release by a pretence of sympathy. But the care- 
 lessness of Dan Kelly gave him a chance. When the 
 dancing began, Dan, who had the front door key, found it 
 cumbersome and casually laid it on the mantelpiece. 
 Bracken, dancing with the rest, took opportunity as he 
 waltzed or polka'd past the mantelpiece to whip oif the key, 
 turned up his trousers and thrust it into the fold. He was 
 too closely watched, however, to be able to escape at once, 
 and it was not till the police train was heard to stop — the 
 hotel being quite close to the line — that his chance came. 
 As soon as the train was heard approaching the outlaws had 
 proceeded to don their armour. Already Steve Hart had 
 been sent to the station with the station-master, who was to 
 be forced to signal the line clear. When the train was 
 heard to stop intense excitement and much confusion 
 naturally prevailed in the hotel. Bracken slipped away, 
 reached the front door unnoticed, let himself out, and ran for 
 the station. He was the only man on the platform, which 
 was in total darkness, when the train moved slowly in. 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 345 
 
 Guided by him the police forthwith set out for the hotel — 
 only one hundred yards off. It was about three o'clock on 
 the Monday morning. 
 
 It must have been a trying moment for the bushrangers 
 when they heard the train stop. The game had become 
 desperate and their own capture far from improbable. Pro- 
 bably the best they could have done would have been to take 
 horse at once for the bush. But in that case the " black 
 trackers," who accompanied the police, would have had a 
 hot scent, and it is certainly doubtful if they could have 
 escaped. Even if they had done so, their position would 
 then have been worse than ever, inasmuch as the police 
 would now be more than ever wary. They came to the 
 fatal decision to stand their ground in the hotel. They 
 must, as Superintendent Hare thinks, have calculated on 
 killing every one of the policemen before fresh forces could 
 arrive, for to attempt to stand a siege without such a hope 
 would have been mere insanity. 
 
 Superintendent Hare seems to have had considerable 
 difficulty in getting together the party of police and " black 
 trackers " with which he had set out from Benalla, since it 
 was past midnight when his special train reached Glenrowan. 
 He has unfortunately omitted to give the numerical strength 
 of his party, but it is clear that the bushrangers were heavily 
 outnumbered. 
 
 Jones's Hotel was a long, low, wooden building with a 
 verandah running the whole length of the front. All lights 
 had been put out inside when the police arrived. Behind 
 the hotel the moon shone brilliantly, throwing the advancing 
 police into full light and the hotel front into deep shadow. 
 From the darkness of the verandah they were fired on as 
 they approached ; and a voice, supposed to be Ned's, 
 shouted : " Fire away, you (language) beggars ; you can do us 
 no harm." For a quarter of an hour the firing was hotly 
 kept up, and a fearful shrieking arose from the crowd of 
 unlucky captives within. Then the outlaws retreated into 
 the house. 
 
 The police now surrounded the hotel. Telegrams were 
 sent in all directions asking for reinforcements, and Con- 
 
346 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 stable Bracken, having caught a horse, rode off to Wan- 
 garatta, seven miles distant, to bring men from there. 
 Superintendent Hare had been wounded in the first volleying, 
 and, after making a gallant attempt to continue on the scene 
 of action, was forced to return, fainting, to the station, and 
 thence to Benalla. At intervals thoughout the anxious 
 night the police fired into the hotel, shouting to the captives 
 to lie down or come out. Come out they would not, for 
 fear of being shot. During the night nine fresh police- 
 men arrived on an engine from Benalla, and eight more 
 came in from Wangaratta. Before the dawn came the 
 position of the outlaws was hopeless. " I have no hesi- 
 tation in saying," writes Superintendent Hare, " that, had 
 the men been without armour when we first attacked the 
 hotel, and could have taken proper aim, not one of us 
 would have escaped being shot. They were obliged to hold 
 the rifle at arm's length to get anything of a sight." This 
 necessity seems to have arisen from the fact that each man, 
 when in full armour, wore a great head-piece — a sort of iron 
 pot coming down on to the chest and back, so as to com- 
 pletely cover the throat. In this rude and monstrous style 
 of helmet it must have been almost impossible for them to 
 move their heads at all. But, if this were really the case, 
 the fact argues considerable folly and a somewhat astonishing 
 indisposition to risk their lives on the part of the outlaws. 
 Granting that, in their armour, they were almost safe under 
 fire, they ought to have known that, nevertheless, death or 
 capture was certain unless they could disable their besiegers 
 within the first few hours. 
 
 Early on the Monday morning, at about eight o'clock, a 
 tall figure suddenly appeared in the rear of the police line. 
 The police seem to have taken it for one of the black 
 trackers, and held their fire. Suddenly the stranger drew 
 a revolver and fired at one of them. It was Ned Kelly, with 
 a long grey overcoat over his armour. Nine policemen 
 closed in upon him, and a strange fight began. The soft- 
 Martini-Henry bullets dinted his armour but did not pene- 
 trate. Each time he was struck he staggered but instantly 
 recovered himself " and tapped his breast, laughing deri- 
 
EDWARD KELLY.\ 347 
 
 sively," and coolly returning the fire. " It appeared as if 
 he were a fiend with a charmed life." For half an hour 
 this strange combat lasted ; then Sergeant Steele rushed in 
 and shot Ned in the leg, bringing him down, then sprang 
 on him and caught the hand that held his revolver. " He 
 roared," we are told, "with savage ferocity," as he lay 
 struggling on the ground, pouring out curses. He had two 
 bullet wounds in his left arm, one in his right leg, and one 
 in his right foot. The police managed to get his armour off, 
 and he at once became quiet. He was taken from the scene 
 of action, a prisoner at last. It seems certain that Ned 
 had contrived to leave the hotel, and had spent the night 
 outside in the skirts of the bush. The marks of his feet 
 were found under a fallen tree, together with a quantity of 
 blood, and, not far off, was found a rifle with more blood 
 near it. It appears that, after the first brush at the hotel 
 front, Ned had suggested that he and Byrne should slip out 
 and make an attack on the police from the rear which the 
 other two should second. But Byrne had refused to follow 
 him, and he had gone alone. Why he came back is not so 
 clear. But if, as is probable, he had been badly hurt before 
 he got clear it must have seemed to him impossible to 
 escape alone through the bush, and he made his attack, 
 trusting to a sally from within and to his armour. But 
 there was no such sally. Byrne had been shot dead at 
 about 5.30 that morning while drinking in the bar, and 
 Hart and Dan, deprived of their leaders, were cowed and 
 helpless. 
 
 The siege continued. To rush the place would have en- 
 tailed a quite unnecessary loss of life. The outlaws had 
 hardly a chance of escape. The women and children 
 prisoners in the hotel came out at daybreak, and, at about 
 ten o'clock, the rest of the prisoners rushed out in a body, 
 terrified out of their wits. Some ran frantically about, 
 screaming to the police for mercy. Others flung themselves 
 down on their faces in their agony of fear. Their exeunt 
 was dramatically appropriate to the parts they had most of 
 them played. 
 
 All the morning, reinforcements of police were arriving on 
 
348 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 the scene, but the outlaws made no sign of surrender. 
 After one o'clock they ceased to return the fire of the police, 
 but still kept sullenly at bay. It was presumed that they 
 were waiting for nightfall to make a desperate attempt to 
 force their way out. 
 
 Their besiegers grew anxious and impatient. The diffi- 
 culty with which Ned had been forced to succumb to 
 enormous odds gave good grounds for fear. Various rather 
 queer suggestions were made. A telegram was sent to 
 Melbourne asking for a field-gun. "We must get gun 
 before night or rush the place." An ingenious Queensland 
 official, with reminiscences perhaps of the Roman " tortoise," 
 telegraphed a suggestion that a dray should be furnished 
 with a large wooden bullet-proof shield, behind which a body 
 of men might reach the hotel walls in safety. Another 
 ingenious person advised the adoption of the electric light. 
 Finally it was settled that, when evening came, bonfires 
 should be lighted all round the hotel. This plan, however, 
 was abandoned before the afternoon closed. The field-gun 
 did not arrive, and the police decided to fire the hotel. One 
 objection to this plan was the fact that there was still in the 
 hotel an unfortunate old man, who had been wounded during 
 the firing and had been unable to escape with the rest of the 
 outlaws' prisoners. The plan was persisted in, nevertheless. 
 While the preparations went forward Bridget Skillian rode 
 up smartly attired. She was appealed to to enter the hotel 
 and beg the two remaining outlaws to surrender. She 
 replied that she would rather see them burned. The firing 
 of the hotel was accomplished without any resistance being 
 met with, and the outlaws did not come forth. Father 
 Gibney, a priest, and some of the police rushed into the 
 rapidly burning house and succeeded in rescuing the unlucky 
 old man still within, who, however, died of his wounds 
 afterwards. It is uncertain whether he had been shot by 
 the police or by Dan Kelly. A glimpse was caught of Dan 
 and Hart lying on the floor of one of the rooms, but it was 
 impossible to reach them. There can be little doubt that 
 they had shot themselves. They died at bay, and worthily 
 after their fashion ; and they had a worthy burial. Their 
 
EDWARD KELLY. 349 
 
 bodies were taken to the Skillians' place at Seven Mile 
 Creek, and an uproarious wake held over them by friends 
 and relatives of the families. Seven Mile Creek would have 
 been an unsafe place to visit that day. " Kelly sym- 
 pathisers," it is reported, " who had made themselves drunk 
 at the wake, were bouncing about, armed and threatening 
 to attack the police." One man solemnly and drunkenly 
 swore to avenge the death of the outlaws, but nothing 
 came of it. 
 
 Ned only remained ; and, it must be confessed that, shorn 
 of his armour wherein he had trusted too much, Ned afforded 
 a sorry spectacle. His condemnation was, of course, as 
 certain as well-deserved. In his prison at Melbourne his 
 mother had an interview with him, and exhorted him to 
 " die like a Kelly." Whether he died " like a Kelly " or not, 
 he certainly died miserably, so broken down with terror that 
 he had to be supported to the gallows. The coroner stated 
 that he had never seen a man show so little pluck under 
 the circumstances. But it is one thing, after all, to die 
 fighting, and another to face the gallows in cold blood. 
 To the end he persisted, as far as his courage went, in 
 the part of the heroic outlaw. This is the best that 
 can be said of his last moments. He asserted that he had 
 only been captured at Glenrowan through an heroic refusal 
 to leave his comrades in the lurch. " If I liked," he 
 declared, " I could have got away. I had a good chance, 
 but I wanted to see the thing end. Perhaps I would have 
 done better if I had cleared away with my grey mare." It 
 is conceivable that this version of the story was true — that 
 Ned returned simply to " see the thing end," and aid his 
 comrades. It is far more probable that he returned because 
 he could not have got away alone. 
 
 Thus wretchedly ended the career of the last of the hush- 
 rangers ; and with what shall we dismiss him ? Certainly 
 he has no claim to rank among heroic brigands. Perhaps, 
 after all, his best epitaph was furnished, in act, by his own 
 family. On the evening of the very day of Ned's execution 
 his sister Kate and his brother Jim — the latter known merely 
 as a horse-stealer — appeared on the boards of a Melbourne 
 
350 TWELVE BAD MEN. 
 
 music-hall. For an entrance fee of one shilling the pair 
 exhibited themselves to an admiring public. Kate held a 
 bouquet of flowers, and bowed and smiled in the approved 
 fashion. Thus were Ned's manes propitiated, not inap- 
 propriately. 
 
APPENDIX OF AUTHORITIES. 
 
 ^.— NOTE ON BOTHWELL. 
 
 Of the hundred best books on Bothwell we may mention but a few. 
 First, of course, his own memoir, " Les Affaires du Conte de Boduel," 
 printed by the Bannatyne Club in 1829, by Labanoff in 1856, and by 
 Teulet in 1859. It is at best a studied lie ; but, when its perversions 
 have been corrected and its omissions filled in from the " Register of 
 the Privy Council of Scotland " and all the other handsome Treasury 
 tomes which are at the elbow of every serious student of History, 
 its psychological value is fully established. Facts we can get in these 
 fat books, nay a few in the partisan historians of Mary's Scotland, 
 contemporary and modern (See Scotland, British Museum Catalogue), 
 but we cannot get such a direct glimpse of the wicked Hepburn as 
 in his own narrative from Malmoe. Of modern monographs the 
 largest and best is by Professor Schiern, accessible in English since 
 1880, which is especially valuable for the Danish episodes of the 
 Life. At St. Petersburg in 1873 Dr. Petrick published a volume on 
 the never-ending topic of the Casket Letters, and in 1874 a book 
 devoted to Bothwell, entitled " Zur Geschichte des Grafen Bothwell." 
 See also Wiesener's " Marie Stuart et Bothwell," and, if variety be a 
 care, the books of the American, J. Watts de Peyster. The latter's 
 " Vindication of James Hepburn, 4th Earl of Bothwell, 3rd hus- 
 band of Mary, Queen of Scots" (Philadelphia, 1882), and "An 
 Inquiry into the Career and Character of Mary Stuart (' Crux Criti- 
 corum ') and a justification of Bothwell (' audire est operae pretium ')," 
 (New York, 1883), are fantastic attempts to prove our dear villain little 
 better than an angel ; but the volumes will prove of more value to 
 an American biographical dictionary than to the seeker after Both- 
 well. In contrast with this high-falutin stands the accurate digest 
 of facts in the " Dictionary of National Biography." 
 
 For other works, of a poetic or romantic character, but " founded 
 on fact," there are the poor verses of Aytoun, Swinburne's long but 
 
352 
 
 APPENDIX OF AUTHORITIES. 
 
 powerful twin-drama to " Chastelard," and those passages of Byron's 
 "Corsair" which had their inspiration from the story of the Scottish 
 freebooter. And once upon a time James Grant wrote a BothwelHan 
 romance, which must have dehghted those boys who encountered 
 it during their Sunday reading. 
 
 No portrait is extant. In 1858 some antiquaries opened the 
 traditional coffin of Bothwell in Faareveile Church; but Professor 
 Schiern, with some show of common sense, refuses to believe that the 
 grave-worn face on which they gazed was that of the Earl. A photo- 
 graph of this head is preserved in the National Museum of Antiquities, 
 Edinburgh. Perhaps some day in some dirty packet of broad-sheets 
 may be found one of those placards, with the portrait in rough, which 
 raised the hue and cry for the " murtherer of the King." 
 
 ^.— NOTE ON SIR EDWARD KELLEY. 
 
 The materials for a biography of Sir Edward Kelley are for the most 
 part meagre or mythical ; authentic information is meagre, and more 
 detailed accounts are mythical. There are, however, a few exceptions 
 to this rule, and first among them comes " A True and Faithfull Rela- 
 tion of what passed between Dr. Dee and some Spirits," a solid folio 
 published in 1659, with an introduction by Meric Casaubon, son of 
 the famous scholar; it is one of the most curious and diverting 
 books in the language, and the first edition was bought up with 
 unexampled rapidity ; a selection from it was published a few years 
 back in the Journal of the Psychical Research Society. Next comes 
 Dee's private Diary printed by the Camden Society, and no less 
 important are the letters and reports from various persons residing 
 in Germany and others, containing an account of Kelley's plot 
 against Parkins, his dealings with Rudolf and Burleigh, and his last 
 days in Bohemia ; these are printed in Strype's Works but have been 
 hitherto unaccountably neglected by Kelley's biographers. Occasional 
 references to Kelley occur in the State Papers, Spedding's "Bacon," 
 Lilly's "Autobiography," and Pierce's "Supererogation." This 
 practically exhausts contemporary authorities, but the next century 
 produced more or less trustworthy accounts in Wood's " Athense 
 Oxonienses," Ashmole's " Theatrum Chemicum," Weever's " Funeral 
 Monuments," Dr. Thomas Smith's " Vitse Quorundam," and various 
 MSS. in the British Museum, e.g., Sloane 3645, Harleian 6485, and 
 others in the Cotton and Lansdowne Collections. Of modern ac- 
 counts the best is in Dr. Wright's " Narratives of Sorcery and Magic," 
 (pp. 226-253); others are contained in Godwin's "Lives of the 
 
APPENDIX OF AUTHORITIES. 353 
 
 Necromancers," Mackay's " Memoirs of Popular Delusions," Daven- 
 port Adams's "Witch, Warlock, and Magician," Cooke Taylor's 
 "Romantic Biography," Lenglet du Fresnoy's " Histoire de la 
 Philosophie Hermetique," Niceron's " Memoires," and Waite's 
 " Alchemical Philosophers " : the last author has also pubhshed a 
 translation of Kelley's works with a biographical introduction. More 
 fragmentary notices will be found in Baines's "Lancashire," Hibbert 
 and Ware's "Manchester," Chambers's "Worcestershire Worthies," 
 Green's "Worcester," Nash's "Worcester," Cooper's "Athenae 
 Cantabrigienses," and last, but not least, concise biographies of Dee, 
 Kelley, and others connected with them, are given in the " Dictionary 
 of National Biography.'' 
 
 Kelley's career probably suggested the idea of Ben Jonson's 
 " Alchemist," and certainly inspired many passages in that play. 
 More recently Harrison Ainsworth by a " poetic license " of anach- 
 ronism has made Kelley a prominent actor in his " Guy Fawkes." 
 References to Dee and Kelley abound in books of, and on, Eliza- 
 beth's reign, when opinions about him were as various as they are 
 now. 
 
 C— NOTE ON MATTHEW HOPKINS. 
 
 In addition to the contemporary accounts of the witch trials 
 between 1645 and 1647, several of which have been quoted in foot- 
 notes, the chief authorities for Hopkins are the pamphlets of the 
 Witch-finder himself and his confederate Stern, and Gaule's " Select 
 Cases of Conscience touching Witchcraft," all of which are alluded 
 to in the text. The remaining sources are those for the study of 
 witchcraft generally, during the seventeenth century, and in England. 
 Among these may be specified — Glanvil's " Sadducismus Trium- 
 phatus," Richard Baxter's " Certainty of the Worlds of Spirits, fully 
 evinced by unquestionable Histories of Apparitions and Witchcrafts 
 . . . written for the conviction of Sadduces and Infidels," Francis 
 Hutchinson's " Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft," Lecky's 
 "History of Rationalism," Thomas Wright's "Narratives of Sorcery 
 and Magic," Scott's "Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft," 
 Mackay's "History of Popular Delusions," Davenport Adams's 
 "Witch, Warlock, and Magician," Maury's "La Magie et I'Astro- 
 logie," and some scattered notes in Buckle's Posthumous Works. 
 A good brief notice of Hopkins is supplied by the " Dictionary of 
 National Biography." Another appears in Gifford's edition of Ford 
 — his " Witch of Edmonton." A well-supported Note on Witchcraft 
 in volume i. of " Phantasms of the Living " demonstrates the total 
 
 24 
 
354 APPENDIX OF AUTHORITIES. 
 
 absence of respectable evidence for all those alleged phenomena of 
 witchcraft which cannot be accounted for as the results of diseased 
 imagination, hysteria, hypnotism, and possibly of telepathy. 
 
 Z).— NOTE ON JUDGE JEFFREYS. 
 
 The authorities for the life of Jeffreys correspond very nearly with 
 those that are cited in Appendix E, in connection with the Judge's 
 illustrious congener, Titus Oates. In addition to these must be 
 mentioned Woolrych's " Memoirs of the Life of Judge Jeffreys," 
 1827, the Lives in Campbell's "Lord Chancellors," and Fosse's 
 "Judges of England," and a number of contemporary Lives and 
 accounts of Jeffreys' death, which have been largely utilised by 
 Macaulay. The excellent memoir by Mr. G. F. R. Barker in the 
 " Dictionary of National Biography," contains much that is supple- 
 mentary to the more elaborate Lives in a very small space. " The 
 Western Martyrology," Dr. Jessop's " Lives of the Norths," Sir John 
 Bramston's "Autobiography," Inderwick's "Side Lights on the 
 Stuarts," Mr. Ewald's " Studies Restudied," and " Magdalen College 
 and James II.," published by the Oxford Historical Society, have 
 also been freely consulted. 
 
 ^.— NOTE ON TITUS OATES. 
 
 Of the four historical characters who figure in these memoirs, 
 Oates alone has hitherto been spared the misfortune of meeting with 
 a biographer. The facts of his earlier and later career are only tO' 
 be found scattered hither and thither among contemporary records, 
 and certain portions of his life will probably always remain shrouded 
 in partial obscurity. Enough, at any rate, is known of his life to. 
 certify the inference that, at any given moment of his life, Titus, if 
 not engaged in nameless abominations, was up to his eyes in mischief. 
 For Oates's early history, Isaac Milles's Life, Wilson's "Memorabilia 
 Cantabrigiana," Mayor's St. John's College Register, Wood's "Life 
 and Times," and certain collectanea in the sixth series of Notes and 
 Queries and in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1849 have proved of 
 special value. For the central portion of his life there is certainly 
 no lack of materials, the State Trials being supplemented by Roger 
 North's " Examen," and the histories of Eachard, Ralph, and Rapin. 
 The same period is illustrated by numberless pamphlets by Oates- 
 and his crew on one side and Sir Roger I'Estrange and his appren- 
 
APPENDIX OF A UTHORITIES. 35 5 
 
 tices on the other. The " Western Martyrology," of which the best 
 edition is that of 1705, contains an account of the flogging and also 
 an eulogy of Oates's learning, generosity and services to the Protestant 
 religion. The House of Lords' MSS. now being published by the 
 Historical MSS. Commission, throw considerable light on the pro- 
 ceedings irj regard to the reversal of his sentence, while scattered notes 
 in Evelyn's Diary, Reresby's Memoirs, Dryden's Works, Burnet's 
 " History of his own Time," " The Lives of the Norths," and 
 Tuke's Memoirs contribute information which is often of consider- 
 able value. Among more recent writers certain of the more salient 
 features in Oates's career are touched upon by Macaulay in his most 
 vivacious manner. A valuable "Selection from the State Trials" 
 has recently been published by Mr. Willis Bund, and the outlines of 
 the plot have been briefly and well narrated in an article by Mr. R. 
 K. Douglas in BlackwootTs Magazine (February, 1889). The most 
 valuable authority for the whole of Oates's career is probably the 
 series of newspaper and other jottings supplied in Luttrell's " Brief 
 Historical Relation of State Affairs.'' For some particulars the 
 histories of Ranke and Klopp ("Der Fall des Hauses Stuart"), 
 and Groen Van Prinsterer's " Archives de la Maison d'Orange 
 Nassau " must be consulted, while side-lights of widely varying; 
 interest and value are thrown by the "Lives" of Calamy and 
 Baxter, Aubrey's " Lives," the autobiography of Sir John Bramston, 
 the Hatton Correspondence, Sidney's Diary, Tom Brown's Works^ 
 Ackerman's " Moneys Received and Paid for Secret Services 
 under Charles II. and James II." The Roxburghe Ballads, the 
 Bagford Ballads, the Luttrell Collection of Ballads and Broad- 
 sides, Lemon's Catalogue of Broadsides, and Stephens's invalu- 
 able Catalogue of Satirical Prints and Drawings in the British 
 Museum, the medallic histories of Pinkerton and Grueber, Stough- 
 ton's "History of Religion in England," Pike's "History of 
 Crime," and Lord Campbell's "Lord Chancellors," have all proved 
 useful in their several departments. Crosby's " History of the 
 Baptists" supplies some information respecting the closing years 
 of Oates's career, but for this portion, and indeed for the whole 
 of his life, the chief source of authority is naturally the enormous 
 mass of pamphlet literature which is to be found catalogued according 
 to Panizzi's "91 rules " in the British Museum Catalogue (under O., T. ; 
 Oates Titus : popish plot : plot, popish : History : L'Estrange, Roger, 
 and many other headings), but which cannot be fully enumerated 
 here. Many of the most valuable are to be found in the two collec- 
 tions of " Somers' Tracts," and in the " Harleian Miscellany." The 
 Catholic view of certain phases of the " Conjuratio Oatiana" is fairly 
 
3S6 APPENDIX OF AUTHORITIES. 
 
 put forth in the " Florus Anglo-Bavaricus," in Challoner's " Memoirs 
 of Missionary Priests,'' in various articles in Gillow's Catholic 
 Dictionary, and Foley's " Records of the English Province of the 
 Society of Jesus," and, last but not least, in Lingard's " History of 
 England." 
 
 It is perhaps worth noting here, that ridiculous (apart from its 
 tragic consequences) as is Oates's so-called " plot " from its pal- 
 pable improbabilities and inconsistencies, its association with the 
 then Pope, Innocent XI., is equally grotesque on account of its 
 singular ineptitude. Benedetto Odescalchi, who became Pope as 
 Innocent XI., was born at Como in 1611. He had entered Rome 
 in his twenty-fifth year, provided only with his sword -and pistols, 
 with a view of entering some secular office or the military service. 
 By the advice of a cardinal he was induced to enter into the employ- 
 ment of the Court, and conducted himself with such ability and 
 rectitude that he became popular among all classes, and was after a 
 time created cardinal. During the sitting of the conclave on the 
 death of Clement X., the people shouted his name within the hearing 
 of the cardinals, and when his election become known the feeling of 
 satisfaction was general. He aimed at a reduction of the pomp and 
 luxury of the Court, and the suppression of abuses ; he was also free 
 from the failing of nepotism, which had led to so many evils, his own 
 nephew living at Rome during his pontificate in a private condition. 
 But his austerity, and his dislike of the Jesuits, then very powerful, 
 made him many enemies. The chief events of his reign were the 
 grave quarrel with Louis XIV. about the asyla in precincts in Rome 
 — his cold reception of Castlemaine, envoy of James II., whose 
 extreme courses the Pope strongly deprecated, as being certain in 
 the end to militate against the true interests of Catholicism in this 
 country — and the great affair of the Gallican articles of 1682, in 
 which Bossuet took part against the Pope. Macaulay speaks of 
 Innocent as a "pontiff of primitive austerity." His pontificate 
 covered the whole period of the "Popish plot." 
 
 For this concise account of Innocent XI., and also for a most 
 careful revision of the memoir on Gates, the writer is indebted to 
 J. T. Seccombe, Esq., M.D. 
 
 i?.— NOTE ON LORD LOVAT. 
 
 Among many scattered notices and documents of value the most 
 important authorities for the life of Simon Fraser are four. The 
 place of honour may be assigned to his own autobiography — a work 
 
APPENDIX OF AUTHORITIES. 357 
 
 that must be used cautiously, since comparatively few of the state- 
 ments in it are wholly true. But though difficult of interpretation 
 and often of no evidential value as to events, it is essential for the 
 understanding of the man. As a really remarkable piece of lying it 
 is almost comparable in ingenuity of suppression, exaggeration, and 
 half-truths to the memoirs of Retz himself. Nor is it always wholly 
 untrustworthy as a narrative ; thus the narrative of the events of 
 1714-15 may be taken as substantially accurate. 
 
 In tlie Culloden Papers we have Simon's correspondence during 
 1745. Here his mendacity is seen at its best, and these letters are 
 essential to the understanding of the part he played that year. 
 
 In Vol. -xviii. of the " State Trials " we have the important de- 
 positions made at the trial, and an interesting glimpse of Simon at 
 bay. The speeches of the lawyers throw little light on the matter. 
 Appended is contemporary gossip concerning Simon's behaviour 
 in the last hours : tolerably trustworthy. 
 
 Fourthly is " Major Eraser's Manuscript," of which quaint work 
 there is a recent edition by Lieutenant-Colonel Fergusson. The 
 Major is a shrewd and trustworthy man, now and then, perhaps, 
 misled by vanity. His evidence is specially important on the events 
 between the departure from Saumur and the triumphal installation 
 in Stratheric. 
 
 Apart from these authorities there is much scattered evidence. All 
 Simon's letters are valuable, and many are partly or wholly given in 
 Burton's " Life." Some very curious information respecting the rape 
 and other matters may be found in vol. xii. of the " Somers' Tracts," 
 and in King's " Munimenta Antiqua." A fairly full list of references 
 is appended to the very accurate article in the " Dictionary of National 
 Biography." The contemporary " Lives," three of them dating 
 1746-7, are worthless; being written with much animus and little 
 knowledge. 
 
 Of modern work far the most important is Dr. T. Hill Burton's 
 "Life" — the result of careful industry. Dr. Burton, if he has not 
 entered very fully into Simon's mind, has collated the evidence with 
 much accuracy and judgment. A good essay on Simon's career 
 appeared in the Scottish Review for January, 1893. Of other modern 
 works none is worth mention. Mrs. Thomson in " Memoirs of the 
 Jacobites " fails to rise to the subject, and is not accurate. 
 
 <?.— NOTE ON COLONEL CHARTERIS. 
 
 Materials for the hfe of Charteris are to be found broadcast by 
 such as care to seanch' for them, while for others there is a plenty of 
 
3S8 APPENDIX OF AUTHORITIES. 
 
 monographs with the Colonel as subject, which were widely published 
 about the times of his last trial. The aim of the compilers of the 
 last-named works would seem to have been to offer " spicy " reading, 
 and small attention was paid by them to fact, or even probability, if 
 an opportunity presented itself of applying some old story with a 
 dirty fellow as its hero to the subject in hand. Less care was given 
 to style, and these productions are long-winded ; but they afford 
 valuable material. Among them may be named " Some Authentic 
 
 Memoirs of the Life of Colonel Ch s, Rapemaster-General of 
 
 Great Britain," 1730; "Scotch Gallantry Displayed, or the Life and 
 Adventures of Colonel Fr — nc — s Ch — rt — s," 1730; "Life of 
 Colonel Don Fraiicisco " (n.d.) ; " History of Col. Francis 
 Ch — rtr — s." Besides such fugitive works as those mentioned 
 there are numerous histories which could not well pass over the 
 name of Charteris. Most of these are concerned only with his com- 
 mand at Preston, the story of which is set out at length in Patten's 
 "History of the Rebellion," 1715, and side-lights on which as well 
 on other of his appearances before the world are thrown by some of 
 the Chetham Society's publications ; and in the same connection 
 may be mentioned Rapin's " History of England." Burton, in his 
 "Life of Duncan Forbes,'' is the chief trustworthy authority for 
 Charteris's last moments, while for his trial and the incidents which 
 followed it there is almost a superabundance of matter to be found 
 in the newspapers of the day, and such faithful registers of events as 
 the " Political State of Great Britain " and " Anglise Notitia." The 
 British Museum owns a number of pamphlets and leaflets relating 
 to the cashiering of the Colonel, and Douglas's " Peerage of Scot- 
 land " is supreme in genealogical information. Pope and Swift make 
 frequent use of Charteris's name as a type of most forms of immorality, 
 and the industrious editors of these authors have not failed to give 
 brief notices of him in their notes. Walpole in one of his letters 
 relates that he once, when a small boy, saw Charteris himself. The 
 Gentlematis Magazine would scarcely be complete if it did not con- 
 tain his name, and no doubt some interesting second-hand informa- 
 tion might be produced by a diligent search in the back volumes 
 of Notes and Queries. 
 
 ^— NOTE ON JONATHAN WILD. 
 
 The scarcity of trustworthy information on the career of Jonathan 
 Wild is touched upon at the commencement of the foregoing bio- 
 graphy. Little reliance can be placed in the details with which the 
 
APPENDIX OF AUTHORITIES. 359 
 
 popular histories of Wild abound. The best of them are, perhaps, 
 "The Life of Jonathan Wild," by H. D., 1725; "An Authentic 
 History of the Parentage, Birth, Education, Marriages, Issue and 
 Practices of the famous Jonathan Wild " (would that this comprehen- 
 sive title were a true one ! ) ; Hitchin's " Regulator," and Wild's 
 reply are useful for the insight they give into thieves' and tavern life 
 in London, and many solid facts may be gleaned from the news- 
 papers. The account of Wild published by the Ordinary of Newgate 
 is meagre and unconvincing, and the hero's Dying Speech and 
 Confession are more than probably unauthentic. The best and 
 most truthful accounts of Wild are to be found in some of the New- 
 gate Calendars, the most satisfactory in this respect being Jackson's, 
 which has been drawn on largely by the present writer. Incidental 
 references of more or less interest are in Thornbury's " London " ; 
 the " Chronicles of Newgate " ; and various MS. records preserved 
 at the Record Office, the Guildhall, and elsewhere. Fielding's 
 " History of Jonathan the Wild, the Great," is, with the exception of 
 the account of his last days, purely imaginary, and the admixture of 
 fact to fiction in Ainsworth's "Jack Sheppard " is scarcely sufficient 
 to satisfy a pedant's canons. Wild has not infrequently done duty 
 in the British Drama, but of later years he has found a more con- 
 genial home on the burlesque stage than on the legitimate boards. 
 His character was one to which no form of literature could easily do 
 justice. 
 
 /.—NOTE ON JAMES MACLAINE. 
 
 The chief sources for the history of James Maclaine are — "An 
 Account of the Behaviour of Mr. James Maclaine, From the Time 
 of his Condemnation to the Day of his Execution ... By the 
 Reverend Dr. Allen . . . London: 1750," "A Complete History 
 of James Maclean, The Gentleman Highwayman . . .", " The Ordi- 
 nary of Newgate's Account of the Behaviour ... Of the Twelve 
 Malefactors who were Executed at Tyburn on Wednesday the 3rd of 
 October, 1750," "The Proceedings on the King's Commission of 
 the Peace ... for the City of London . . . held at the Justice Hall 
 in the Old Bailey on Wednesday the 12th, &c., of September . . . 
 1750," "A Letter to the Honourable House of Commons ... To 
 whitfh is added an Address occasioned by the Execution of Mr. 
 James Maclaine, &c." Of more general sources of authority the 
 most worthy of notice are Cunningham's edition of Walpole's Cor- 
 respondence, Nichols's "Literary Anecdotes," ii. 452, Wheatley 
 and Cunningham's " London Past and Present," and Caulfield's 
 
36o APPENDIX OF AUTHORITIES. 
 
 "Remarkable Characters," iv. 87. Among numerous accounts in 
 contemporary newspapers the least unsatisfactory are to be found in 
 The World, No. 3, for the 19th of December, 1754, the Whitehall 
 Evening Post, General Advertiser, and London Evening Post. 
 
 y.— NOTE ON "FIGHTING FITZGERALD." 
 
 The compiler of the articles on George Robert Fitzgerald in the 
 Dublin University Magazine, whose account, although chiefly founded 
 n Fitzgerald's own " Appeal to the Pubhc," is discriminating and 
 ess favourable to him than the anonymous " Memoirs of George 
 Robert Fitzgerald." The author of " The Case of G. R. Fitzgerald 
 impartially considered, and his Character and Conduct Vindicated," 
 calls himself " an uninterested spectator,' but is manifestly a strong 
 political, if not personal partisan, and we agree with the Gentleman's 
 Magazine in thinking the vindication scarcely complete. He was a 
 friend of Brecknock, whose account he accepts as veracious, and 
 was probably a bookseller named Bingley. 
 
 Sir Jonah Barrington, pre-eminent among Irish romancers, seems 
 for once, in the case of Fitzgerald, to have lost faith in him- 
 self as a faithful biographer, and lest he " might mistake and be 
 called a ' bouncer ' " actually has recourse to his friend Martin " to 
 give me a circumstantial detail." He considers this statement as so 
 perspicuous and fair as almost to amount to " perfect impartiality." 
 He does not name the other friend from whom he had learned " a 
 few facts"; and declines himself to become Fitzgerald's "general 
 biographer," adding " in truth, he has never, to my knowledge, had 
 any true one." 
 
 From his tone here an inexperienced reader might be led to view 
 Sir Jonah himself in the light of a critical biographer, a kind of model 
 editor of a " Dictionary of Irish Biography." Mr. Sylvanus Urban 
 appears to have had a special correspondent at Castlebar who wrote 
 for him " an authentic account of one of the most shocking murders 
 ever committed," and also of the trial of the murderers. The 
 Gentleman's Magazine for June, 1786, also in its Review and Cata- 
 logue of New Publications mentions " the Case " in order to say that 
 "this is the original, whence a compilation under the title of 
 ' Authentic Memoirs,' hath been very unhandsomely compiled." 
 A short review appears in the next number. It is hostile in tone, 
 but has appended to it a note saying that accounts recently received 
 from Castlebar had created some suspicion that the prosecution of 
 the criminals had been rather too precipitate. 
 
APPENDIX OF AUTHORITIES. 361 
 
 -^.— NOTE ON THOMAS GRIFFITHS WAINEWRIGHT. 
 
 The biographer of Wainewright is not overwhelmed by the mass of 
 materials that has to be consulted. Mr. W. Carew Hazlitt, when 
 editing the collected "Essays and Criticisms," focussed to a point 
 most of the scattered references in contemporary Letters and Diaries, 
 and supplemented the result with a good deal of carefully compiled 
 fresh matter. Previous short accounts are given by Mr. Thornbury 
 in his "Old Stories Retold," and by Sir T. N. Talfourd in his 
 " Memoirs of Charles Lamb." B. W. Procter throws some curious 
 side-lights on the picture ; and the student of Notes and Queries will 
 find most of the known details about the Tasmanian portion of 
 Wainewright's career. Mr. Oscar Wilde has contributed an Artistic 
 Appreciation to vol. xlv. of The Fortnightly Review ; and there does 
 not appear to be anything else worthy of particular mention. 
 
 Wainewright's life has inspired some well-known fiction. In 
 Lytton's " Lucretia " he appears as Varney, while Lucretia Clavering 
 is supposed to be Mrs. Wainewright. Dickens founded his unsatis- 
 factory and melodramatic novelette, " Hunted Down," on the same 
 subject. 
 
 Z.— NOTE ON "NED" KELLY. 
 
 Practically the whole of our information concerning the career of 
 the Kelly brothers is derived from the book of Mr. F. A. Hare, 
 Superintendent in the Victorian pohce, entitled " The Last of the 
 Bushrangers," and from the files of The Melbourne Argus. Mr. 
 Hare's book is an unvarnished and praiseworthy tale written by the 
 man who, perhaps, knew more than any one else of the matter, and 
 without it our knowledge would be very incomplete. He records 
 his personal experience as one of the heroes of the story. In the 
 columns of The Melbourne Argus for February, 1879, and June and 
 July, 1880, we have not only reports by special correspondents but 
 also statements by actual actors or sufferers in the events, as by 
 Mr. Scott of Euroa, Mr. Tarleton of Jerilderie, Constable Bracken of 
 Glenrowan, and others. 
 
 We have been unable to obtain files of other Australian papers 
 than The Melbourne Argus for the required dates, but it is unlikely 
 that any other would contain first-hand information. 
 
 A little book entitled " History of the Kelly Gang of Bushrangers," 
 by D. Kinnear, published at Melbourne in 1880, appears to be com- 
 piled from gossip, and, so far as it contains any information not 
 
362 APPENDIX TO AUTHORITIES. 
 
 contained in The Melbourne Argus or in Mr. Hare's book, is quite 
 untrustworthy. 
 
 A very brief notice of the Kellys occurs in Mr. J. Henniker-Heaton's 
 " Austrahan Dictionary of Dates," and a more adequate sketch in 
 the " Dictionary of National Biography." 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Aalborg, Captain Christiern, 28 
 Abercromby, Lieutenant, 299 
 
 „ Helen, 299, 305 ; attracts 
 
 attention of Waine- 
 
 wright, 306, 308, 309 ; 
 
 poisoned, 310 
 
 „ Madeleine, 299, 305 ; 
 
 married, 313 
 „ Mrs., 298, 305; murdered, 
 
 307 
 
 Abinger, Lord, 315 
 
 Acheson, Mr., solicitor, 311 
 
 Aigas, Island of, 162 
 
 Ainslie's Tavern, 19 
 
 Albemarle, Earl of, 90, 249 
 
 Aldgate, Dates whipped from, to New- 
 gate, 139, 141 
 
 Allen, Dr., Presbyterian minister, who 
 published Machine's confession, 262 
 
 Altamont, Lord, 278 
 
 Amboise, Plot of, 4 
 
 Amelia, Princess, 266 
 
 Angouleme, 174 
 
 Anne, Queen, 172, 177 
 
 Arblay, Madame d', 319 
 
 Arbuthnot, Dr., his poetical description 
 of Charteris, 217 
 
 Arcades Ambo, Jeffreys and Dates, 136 
 
 " Architectonical Scheme," III 
 
 Argyll, Earl of, see Campbell 
 
 Arnold, Quilt, 230, 240 
 
 Arnold, Mary, the most expert shop- 
 lifter ever known, 245 
 
 Arran, Earl of, 4-5, 6 
 
 Arundel, Lord, apprehended, 118 
 
 Ashby, Rector of St. Dmer, 121 
 
 Ashe, Miss, one of Maclaine's "doxies," 
 2S9 
 
 363 
 
 Athole, Marquis of, 155, 157, 158, 162, 
 
 172, 178 
 Atkins, a clerk accused of murder of 
 
 Godfrey, 120 
 Atwood, Oates's last victim, 133 
 
 „ Mrs., attacked by Jeffreys, 76 
 Auricular Confession of Titus Dates, 
 
 Pamphlet, 13S 
 Axe Yard, Dates lodges in, 99, 154 
 
 Baggs, Major, duels with Fitzgerald, 
 268 
 
 Ball's ginshop, 234 
 
 Barbarities at Downie Castle, 184 
 
 Barker, Sir Richard, 97, 104 
 
 Barlow, Thomas, Bishop of Lincoln, 
 119 
 
 Barlowe, Mr., 261 
 
 Barnabas, Saul, 37 
 
 Barrington, Sir Jonah, 268, 274 
 
 Barton, Bernard, 297 
 
 Bate, Rev. Henry, Affray of, with Fitz- 
 gerald, 269, 270 
 
 Bates, Dr., 75 
 
 Bavaria, Duke of, 51 
 
 Baxter, Richard, 73 ; his trial, 74 
 
 Bayard, 25 
 
 Beaufort, Thomas Eraser of, 157, 160, 
 164 
 
 Bedford, Lord, 8 
 „ Duke of, 261 
 
 Bedingfield, a Jesuit, 109 
 
 Bedloe, his false evidence, 120, 123, 
 124, 125 ; impeached, 127 ; his 
 death, 128-131, 132-134 
 
 Beelzebub, an imp, 61 
 
 Belcher, Sue, 244 
 
 Bellasis, Lord, apprehended, 118 
 
364 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Belted Will, 3 
 
 Benalla, intended robbery of bank 
 
 there, 341 
 Bigamy of Wild, 230 
 Bird, Mr. James, an attorney, 309, 316 
 " Black Bastard," no 
 " Blackman," an imp, 61 
 Blake, Joseph, see Blueskin 
 Blessington, Lady, 320 
 Bloomsbury, Samuel Oates retreats to, 
 
 97 
 Bludworlh, Sir Thomas, 70 
 Blueskin, a pickpocket, 23S, 239, 243 
 Bobbing, Vicarage of, 99, ICX), 104 
 Bolton, Duke of, 146 
 Bond, Anne, 212 
 Bonmot, Mr. (T. G. Wainewright), 294 ; 
 
 his death, 302 
 Booth, Henry, afterwards Lord Dela- 
 
 mere, 70 ; his trial, 88 
 BoTHWELL, Earl of, his life, 1-35 
 Boulogne, 313 
 Bracton, 145 
 
 Braken, Constable, 343, 346 
 Brecknock, Timothy, legal adviser of 
 
 Fitzgerald, 282, 283, 284, 286, 
 
 287 ; his execution, 289 
 Bristol, Earl of, 275 
 Broil among the servants of Jefiireys, 83 
 Brown) Tom, the humourist, 99, 149, 
 
 154 
 Browne, Denis, 278-289 
 
 „ Lady Anne, 278 
 
 „ Lady Elizabeth, 278 
 
 ,, Lady Charlotte, 278 
 
 ,, Sir Thomas, 57 
 
 „ Sir Richard, 69 
 
 ,, Hablot, 317 
 Bruce, James, 214 
 Buchanan, Thomas, 31 
 Burial of Charteris, 2i6 
 Burleigh, Lord, 48, 50 ; his nephew, 49 
 Burnet, Dr., 115 
 Burney, Charles, D.D., 319 ; his school, 
 
 293 
 Bury St. Edmunds, Hopkins at, 60 
 Busby, Dr., 68 
 Byrne, Joe, associate of Ned Kelly, 
 
 325. 329. 333. 337 ; his 
 death, 347 
 » Mrs., 338, 339 
 
 Cabinet of Jesuits' Secrets opened, 
 
 104 
 Calamy, Edmund, 116, 142 
 Caldara, Polidore di, 295 
 Calli^res, 169 
 Cambo Estate, 207 
 Cameron, Ewan, of Lochiel, 171, 191 
 Campbell, Archibald, fourth Earl of 
 Argyll, 9 
 
 ,, Archibald, first Duke of 
 
 Argyll, 166, 167, 171, 
 
 177. 179. 214 
 „ Colin, of Glenderule, 173 
 
 „ John, Provost 179, 186 
 
 „ Primrose, married to Lord 
 
 Lovat, 186 
 
 Campion, Jesuit, 137 
 
 Canterbury, Archbishop of, 137 
 
 " Cart the Ark," 96 
 
 Castlemaine, Lord, acquitted, 132 
 
 Cateau-Cambresis, Treaty of, 3 
 
 Catherine, Queen of Charles II., loi, 
 125, 127, 128 
 
 Chaise, P^re la, 1 10 
 
 Charles II., 71, 72 ; in St. James's 
 Park, 107-124 ; alleged attempts 
 to poison him, 125, 126 ; begins 
 to frown on Oates, 127, 128, 135 
 
 Charteris, Colonel Francis, Life 
 of, 200-218 
 ,, Mrs., 209, 214 
 
 „ Janet, 209 
 
 „ Sir John, 200 
 
 Chelmer, River, 97 
 
 Cheops, 106 
 
 Chesterfield, Lord, 259 
 
 Chiffinch, Will, 69, 106 
 
 Child, Alderman, 212 
 
 Churcher, Ehzabeth, a witch, her imps, 
 61 
 
 Clark, Dr., his description of Charteris 
 his patient, 215 
 
 Clarke, Elizabeth, a witch, her exami- 
 nation, 59 
 
 Claude, the painter, 296 
 
 Clerk, Captain John, 31 
 ,, Sir John, 189 
 
 Cock Alley, 221 
 
 Cockeril, Mr., a blink-eyed bookseller 
 of Cheapside, 131 
 
 Coleman, Edward, 104, 113; indicted 
 
INDEX. 
 
 365 
 
 and executed, 121 ; his chances to 
 escape, 123 
 Coleridge, Hartly, 294 
 College, Stephen, the Protestant joiner, 
 
 his trial, 72, 125, 141 
 Compton, Bishop, 88 
 ConoUy, Miss, 267 ; marries Fitzgerald, 
 
 267 
 Conyers, a Jesuit, no; wagered the 
 
 king would eat no more Christmas 
 
 pies, 126 
 Cook, Dr., 9 
 
 " Coopers' Arms," The, 236 
 Cornelius Van Vinkbooms, pseudonym 
 
 of T. G. Wainewright, 294 
 Cornwall, Barry, see Procter, B. W. 
 Correggio, compared with Westall, 296 
 Cottle, Captain, " All for love, and a 
 
 little for the bottle," 254 
 Cracow, 40-41, 44 
 
 Craig, Andrew, " Scots Andrew," ally 
 of Fitzgerald, 284 
 ,, John, minister of St. Giles, 23 
 Craigie, Lord Advocate, 189 
 Craigmillar, 13 
 
 Crichton, Lady Catherine, 200 
 Crofts, Captain, 269, 270, 271 
 Cromarty, Earl of, 191 
 Crosby, his history of the Baptists, 97 
 CuUoden, Highland army destroyed at, 
 
 on April 16, 1746, 195 
 CuUoden Castle, 179 
 Gumming, Mr., minister to Charteris 
 
 on his deathbed, 216 
 Cunningham, Alan, 294 
 Curnon, Thomas, saves the police 
 
 train, 343-344 
 
 D'Albeuf, Marquis, s 
 
 Dalgleish, George, 26 
 
 Dalrymple, Lord, 212 
 
 Danby, Lord, 109, 119, 146 
 
 Dangerfield, Thomas, his trial, 87, 132 
 
 Darnley, Henry, 9; his jealousy, 11, 
 12; murdered, l6, 17 
 
 Dartmouth, Earl of, 358 
 
 D'Artois, Comte, 267 
 
 Dee, Dr. John, his character, 36 ; pro- 
 fesses to be visited by Gabriel, 37 ; 
 visited by Laski, 39 ; taken by 
 Laski to Holland, 40 ; his experi- 
 
 ments, 41 ; obtains office of Queen's 
 Intelligencer, 44 ; appoints his son 
 his skryer, 45 ; has his wife in 
 common with Kelley, 46 ; again 
 parts from Kelley, 47 
 
 Defoe, Daniel, 117 
 
 Degree of D.D. sought by Gates, 129 
 
 Derry, Bishop of, 267 
 
 Devil, the. Description of, by a witch, 
 
 59 
 Devine, Constable, 334 
 
 „ Mrs., 334 
 Dickens, Charles, 317 
 Dick's Cofifee House in Aldersgate 
 Street, a favourite resort of Gates, 
 
 133 
 Dieppe, 176, 177 
 
 Dillon, Mr., threatens Fitzgerald, 267 
 Dipper, Samuel Gates becomes a, 97 
 Dogmas for Dilettanti, 275 
 Dolben, Sir William, 69, 121 
 Don John, Johannes Paulus de Oliva, 
 
 General of the Society of Jesus, 112 
 Dorchester, Jeffreys there, 82 
 Downie Castle, 155, 159, 160, 161, 184, 
 
 186; burnt, 195 
 Dubois, 73 
 
 Du Croc, Mons., 13, 24 
 Dugdale, Stephen, his character and 
 
 evidence, 125 ; evidence against 
 
 Stafford, 128 
 Drummond, Lord, 171 
 Dun, Timothy, 232 
 Dunbar, 13 
 
 Dunblane, Bishop of, 20 
 Duncannon, Lord, 259 
 Dunmow, the Dipper there, 97 
 Dunne, James, 79, 80, 81 
 
 Edinburgh, 163 
 
 Edwards, Thomas, 239 
 
 Eglinton, Lord, robbed by Maclaine, 
 
 258,259 
 Eglintoun, 19 
 " Egomet Bonmot " pseudonym of 
 
 Wainewright, 294 
 Eleven Gun Creek, 323 
 Elgin, 163 
 Elliott, Adam, 98 ; attacked by Gates, 
 
 134 
 Elliot, John, John o' the Park, 12 
 
366 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Elizabeth, Queen, 9 ; her birthday, 117 
 
 Elphinstone, Lord, 186 
 
 Ely, Bishop of, dines with Oates, 133 
 
 England! s Grand Memorial, WJ 
 
 Errol, Earl of, 169 
 
 Euroa, Robbery of bank at, 329, 333 
 
 Evelyn, John, his opinion of Jeffreys, 
 
 73, 120, 141 
 Ewald, Mr., 77, 83 
 Examen, Roger North's, 96, 131 
 Extravaganza, Oates's, 114 
 
 Fairfax, Henry, 91 
 
 Faithful Creek, 330 
 
 Farmer, Anthony, 91 
 
 Fell, Dr., refuses to grant degree of 
 
 D.D. to Oates, 130 
 Fenwick, Sir John, 123 ; executed, 
 
 I2S 
 Ferguson, James, astronomer, at Castle 
 
 Downie, 184 
 Fergusson, Robert, " the plotter," 173, 
 
 184 
 Fielding, Henry, 219 
 
 ,, Sir John, 244 
 Fiery Cross, The, 161 
 Ffrench, Mr. Ceesar, 278, 280 
 Fitzgerald, George Robert, Life of, 
 265-291 
 „ Lionel Charles, 266 
 
 Fitzgibbon, attorney-general, 288 
 Fitzharris, Conviction of, 72 
 Fitzpatrick, Constable, 324 
 Fleet Ditch, 223 
 Flogging of Oates, 142 
 Flood, Matthew, 245 
 Florus Anglo-Bavaricus, 105 
 Forbes, Duncan, witnesses Eraser's 
 marriage, 184, 190, 192; 
 defends Charteris, 210 ; 
 legacy to, from Charteris, 
 214, 2l6 
 „ John, 179 
 Forster, Mr., 297, 304, 309, 317, 320 
 Fort William, i6i 
 Foss, Henry, 293 
 
 „ Edward, 293 
 Foul-brigs, 20 
 Fox Hall (Vauxhall), 104 
 Framlinghara, 60; Hopkins there, 60 
 Francis, murderer of Dangerfield, 87 
 
 Eraser, Simon, Earl of Lovat, Life 
 of, 1SS-199 
 „ John, his death, 186 ; left in 
 
 Holland, 169, 176 
 „ Major, 167, 174, 176, 183, 
 185 ; accompanies Simon, 
 176, 177; goes to Scotland, 
 179 
 ,, Thomas, 157, 160, 164 
 „ Alexander, 177 
 ,, James, 199 
 „ Amelia, 1 57, 175; her death, 
 
 181 
 „ Clan, 164, 170, 192 ; Lovat's 
 letter to, 183 
 Frederick II., 30, 31 
 French, Mr., duel with Fitzgerald, 266 
 Frobisher, Martin, explorer, 36 
 Fryer, Sir John, 240 
 Fuller, William, 125, 147, 148 
 Fulton, assassin executed, 289 
 Fuseli, the painter, 296 
 
 Gallagher, Andrew, apothecary, 
 
 286 
 Galloway, John, 16 
 " Gangraena," Anabaptist dippings 
 
 mentioned in, 96 
 Garnet, Father, 128 
 Gaule, John, Rev., his book, 55 5 attack 
 .upon Hopkins, 62 ; the effect of it, 
 
 63 ; his description of articles, ib. 
 Gazetteer, The, 270 
 Galway Cock, The, 287 
 Gentleman's Magazine, The, 292 
 " Gentlemen of the Clan Eraser," Letter 
 
 to, 183 
 George, King, 177, 178, 180 
 Geraldines, The, 264 
 Gibney, Father, 348 
 Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, explorer, 36 
 Godfrey, Sir Edmund Berry, 104, 109; 
 
 his murder, 115, 120 
 Gortuleg, 195 
 Gordon, Jean, marries Bothwell, 10 ; 
 
 divorced, 22 
 " Gospel, taken for," Everything Oates 
 
 affirmed, 120 
 Graham, Mr., a surgeon, 310 
 Grant, Brigadier, 179 
 
 „ Margaret, 186 ; married to Fraser 
 
INDEX. 
 
 367 
 
 Grattan, Harriet, 308 
 Greedigut, an imp, 61 
 Green, Mr., Archishop Tenison's chap- 
 lain, struck by Oates, 150 
 Griffiths, Ralph, LL.D., 292, 299 
 „ George, 301 
 „ Mrs., 293 
 „ Ann, 292 
 Grove, William, Oates's victim, Io8, 
 
 no, 122, 124 
 Groves, Paul, 245 
 Guildhall, 68 
 Guilford, Lord, 73 
 Gunpowder Alley, loi 
 Gwynne, Mistress Nell, 107 
 Gwynne, Captain Peter, 53 
 
 Hab o' the Shaws, 8 
 
 Hackabout, Kate, 209 
 
 Hague, The, 255 
 
 Hale, Sir Matthew, 57 
 
 Halton, Timothy, refuses to grant 
 
 degree to Gates', 130 
 Hamilton, Lord, 6 
 Hampton Court, 253 
 Harcourt, Thomas, Jesuit executed, 125 
 Hare, Superintendent, 323, 338, 344, 
 
 346 
 Harlofs Progress, The, 217 
 Harrington, Countess of, 259 
 Hart, Stephen, 325, 329, 333, 337. 
 
 344 ; his death, 34S 
 Hartley, Mrs., 269, 271 
 Harvey, Colonel, 212 
 Hawkins, Sir John, explorer, 36 
 Hay (of TuUa), 15 ; his share in the 
 
 blowing up Darnley, ib. 
 Hazlitt, Mr., 294, 297, 304, 318 
 Henry, Mr., parson, 290 
 Hepburn, James, Earl of Both- 
 well, his life, I-3S 
 " Heretic Pig,"z.^., Charles II., no 
 Hessey, Mr., 297 
 Hewling, Mr., his murder, 83 
 Hicks, a dissenting divine, 79, 80 
 Hicks' Hall, JeiTreys makes his mark 
 
 there, 68, 72, 88 
 Higden, Josiah, 260 ; procures arrest of 
 
 Maclaine, 248 
 Hipson, 287 ; murdered, 288 
 History of King Charles /., 102 
 
 Hitchen, Charles, City Marshal, 222, 
 224, 225 ; his pamphlet " The 
 Regulator," 236 
 Hobart Town, 321 
 Hogarth, William, executes a portrait 
 
 ofFraser, 196 
 HoUoway, Sir Robert, judge, 145 
 Holmes, Colonel, plays with Charteris, 
 
 204 
 Holt, Chief Justice, 14S 
 Holyrood, 15 
 Hood, Thomas, 294 
 Hopkins, James, Matthew Hopkins's 
 
 father, 57, 64 
 Hopkins, Matthew, Life of, S4-67 
 Hornby Castle, 207 
 Howard William, Viscount Stafford, 
 
 his trial, 128, 248 
 Howell, Sir John, 69 
 Hubert, Queen Mary's servitor, 16 
 Hucker, Mr., his murder, 83 
 Hudibras, Lines from, referring to Hop- 
 kins, 64 ; to Kelley, 37 
 Hue and Cry after Dr. Oates, a 
 
 pamphlet, 100, 133 
 Hull, Sarah, 244 ; curious dispensation 
 
 with regard to her husbands, 245 
 Hunted Down, novelette by Dickens, 
 
 321 
 Huntley, Earl of, 10, 11, 12 ; re- 
 stored to his forfeited 
 estates, 19,26 
 „ Patrick, 203 
 
 Hyndford, Earl of, 209 
 
 Ilemauzar, an imp, 59 
 
 Imprisonment of Oates, 135 
 
 Inchkeith, Captain, 26 
 
 iTidex to the Jesuits' Morals, 104 
 
 Ipswich, Hopkins at, 61 
 
 Ireland, William, Jesuit, sentenced to 
 
 death, 124, 136 
 ,, Francis, William Ireland's 
 
 uncle, 124 
 Islay, Lord, 177, 179, 180, 186 
 
 Jack Pudding, Jeffreys called a, 71 
 James I., his energy against witches, 56 
 ,, III., the Pretender, 169 
 „ Mrs., Eleanor, assaulted by 
 Oates, 153, 154 
 
368 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Janus Weatherbound, pseudonym of 
 
 T. G. Wainewright, 294 
 Jarmara, an imp, 59 
 Jarvis, Mr., 237 
 Jedburgh, 13 
 Jeffreys, Judge, Life of, 67 
 
 Judge, 121, 126, 139; at 
 „ trial of Dates, 136, 137 
 
 ,, John, father of the Judge, 
 
 67 
 „ John, "The Great Smoaker,'' 
 69 
 Jenkins, Mr., 83 
 Jennison, his evidence, 125 
 Jerilderie, 333 
 Jerrold Douglas, 314 
 Jessopp, Rev. Dr., 95 
 Jewell, John, Bishop of Salisbury, 55 
 ■ Johnson, Roger, 237, 239 
 
 ,, Dr. Samuel, 49, 270 
 Jones, Mrs. , marries Jeffreys, 70 
 „ Sir Thomas, snubbed by Jeffreys, 
 
 87 
 
 „ Sir William, I2i 
 
 „ Mr. Thomas, 249 
 Jones's Hotel, 345 
 Jonson, Ben, 56 
 
 Kaas, Constable, 31 
 Kearney, 135 
 
 Kelley, Sir Edward, Life of, 34-53 
 Kelly, Edward, Life of, 323-350 
 „ Dan, 324, 325, 327, 329, 333 ; 
 his brutal conduct, 330, 
 331 ; surprises Tarleton in 
 his bath, 335 ; murders 
 Sherrit, 342 ; his death, 
 348 
 „ Mrs., 324 ; arrested, 325 
 Kate, 338, 349 
 Bridget, 338, 348 
 „ Jim, 349 
 „ John, 323 
 
 „ Henry, steals at instigation of 
 Wild, 341 
 Kennedy, Sergeant, 325; murdered, 
 
 328 
 Ketch, John, hangman, 141 
 Killala, 280 
 King, Mr., 310 
 Kinloch, Sir Francis, 200 
 
 Kinneil, Conspiracy of, 8 
 Kirk, Mr. Thomas, 309, 316 
 Kirkaldy, 25, 27 
 
 Kirkby, Christopher, an associate of 
 
 Tonge and Titus Dates, 106, 107, 109 
 
 Kirk Hill Church, Eraser wishes to be 
 
 buried at, 198 
 Kirk o' Field, 6 
 Knapp, Mrs., murdered, 232 
 Kneller, Sir Godfrey, 91 
 Knox, John, 6, 9 
 ,, Mrs., scandaliser of Dates, 130 
 
 La Chaise, PfeRE, 114, 122 
 
 La Frezeli^re, Marquis, 175 
 
 Lamb, Charles, 294, 297, 299 
 
 Landguard Fort, 59 
 
 Lane, Mr., 130 
 
 Langhorne, Richard, executed, 125 
 
 Lauderdale, Earl of, 148 
 
 Lawrence, Sir Thomas, 296 
 
 Laski, Albert, comes to England, 38 ; 
 commanded by the spirits to take 
 Kelley to Holland, 40; his re- 
 sources begin to fail, 41 
 
 Law passed against witches, 55 
 
 Lediard, Mr., 258, 261 
 
 Leest, Mr., 308, 316 
 
 Le Ferrier, 1 14 
 
 Lennox, 17 ; requested to indict Both- 
 well, ib. ; postpones the case, 18, 
 31 
 
 " Le Shee," Father (P4re La Chaise), 
 no 
 
 L'Estrange, Sir Roger, 133 ; his share 
 in trial of Baxter, 73, 74 
 ,, Sir Hamon, 102 
 
 Lethington, 7, 13 
 
 Letter of Eraser to his son, '197 
 
 Lewkenor's Lane, Establishment in, 
 221 
 
 Liddesdale, Lord, lo 
 
 ,, The thieves of, 8 
 
 Liige, 105 
 
 Lilly, William, 43 
 
 Lisle, John, 78 ; his murder, 83 
 
 „ Lady Alice, 78, 80, 81 ; her 
 trial, 79 
 
 " Lo, a damned crew," anagram of 
 Edward Coleman, 104 
 
 Loader, Mr., shopkeeper, 258 
 
INDEX. 
 
 369 
 
 Locke, Mr., 292 
 Locock, Doctor, 309, 310 
 London Packet., The, 270 
 London Magazine, The, 294 
 Lonergan, Captain, murdered, 327 
 Loudoun, Lord, takes Fraser prisoner, 
 
 194 
 Louis XIV., 114, 124; his Scottish 
 
 scheme, 170 
 Lovat, Hugh Eraser, Lord, his death, 
 
 157 
 ,,. Lady, 159, 167; outraged, 162 
 
 Lovelace, Lord, takes Gates to Wood- 
 stock, 129 
 
 Lowes, Rev. John, his confession under 
 torture, 59 
 
 Lower, Dr., 94 
 
 Lunn, a pickpocket, 231 
 
 Lyttleton, Tom, 270 
 
 Lytton, Bulwer, 321 
 
 MacGlegno, Miss, 250 
 Macgregor, Laird, 171 
 MacAulay, Mr., 330, 333 
 MacDonnell, Alexander, 285 
 
 ,, Patrick, 282, 288 
 
 MacDougall, Mr., 336 
 Maclntyre, Constable, 327 
 Mackenzie, Alexander, married, 175 ; 
 obtains the Lovat estate, 
 176 ; declares for the 
 rebels, 178, 180, 181 
 Hugh, 181 
 ,, Roderick, 175 
 
 Maclaine, Anne Jane, 246, 255 
 
 ,, Archibald, 246, 247, 255 ; 
 intercedes for his brother, 
 / 261 
 Maclaine, James, Life of, 246-264 
 
 „ Lauchlin, 299, 304 
 
 Macleod, Sybilla, 155 
 Macshimi, title of chief, 181 
 Madimi, a spirit, 39, 45, 47 
 Manningtree, the town where, Hopkins 
 
 lived, 57, 64, 65, 
 Mansfield, Lord, 283 
 Mar, Earl of, 179 
 
 ,, Countess of, 186 
 Marlborough, Duke of, 201 
 Martin, Anne, incident at dipping, 96 
 ,, Doctor Richard, 374 
 
 Martin, Mr. Richard, 281 ; wounded by 
 Fitzgerald in duel, 282 
 
 Marischal, Earl, 169 
 
 Marshall, tried along with Wakeman, 
 127 
 
 Mary of Guise, her reconciliation with 
 Earl Patrick Hepburn, 2 ; her 
 betrothal, 3 ; death, 4 
 „ Stuart returns to Scotland, S ; 
 resolves to marry Darnley, 9; 
 liking for Bothwell, 11; rides 
 to visit Bothwell, 13; visits her 
 husband, 14 ; her conduct at 
 murder of Bothwell, 17 ; rides 
 to Stirling to visit her son, 20 ; 
 married to Bothwell, 23; ac- 
 companies him to Edinburgh, 
 23 ; escapes from the court, 24 ; 
 expostulates with the Lords, 24, 
 
 25.31 
 „ of Modena, 169, 172 
 Mastiff at the door of Oates's cell 
 
 poisoned, 135 
 Maxwell, Master of, 5 
 Maynard, Serjeant, 121, 132 
 Mayo, Catholic, 276 
 Melbourne Argus, 333 
 Melvil, Sir James, 16, 20 
 Mendez, Abraham, "Clerk of the nor- 
 thern road," 230 
 Merchant Taylors' School, 98 
 Middleton, Lord, 169, 170, 171 
 Miles, Captain, 269, 270 
 Miller, An Edinburgh, mutilated by 
 
 Charteris, 206 
 Milliner, Mary, 221 ; Wild slices her 
 
 ear off, 229 
 Milton, Lord, 216 
 Mistley, 64 
 
 Mithridates, Dryden, his, 103 
 Mohun, Lord, 129 
 Monaghan, 248 
 Monas Hieroglyphicus, 43 
 Monck, General, 97 
 Monmouth, Duke of, 71 ; prisoners 
 
 executed for aiding him, 82, 120, 
 
 142 
 Monson, Richard, 37 
 Montague, Lady Mary Wortley, 265, 
 
 289 
 Monthly Meview, The, 293 
 
 25 
 
370 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Montrose, Duke of, 178 
 
 Moody, Mr., the player, 271 
 
 Moore, George, Oates's patron, 99 
 
 Morar Loch, 195 
 
 Morning Chronicle, The, 269 
 
 Morning Post, The, 269, 270 
 
 Morocco, Emperor of, 134 
 
 Morton, Lord, 11 ; gets possession of 
 
 silver caslcet, 26 
 Mostyn, Sir Roger, 204 
 Mountford, Lord, 259 
 Muily Loch, 195 
 Murphy, Margaret, 241 
 Murray, Earl of, 8, 9, 10 ; pardoned, 
 12, 13 
 
 „ James, offers to fight Bothwell, 
 
 25 
 „ Lord, ISS, 156, 159, 165 
 „ Lord Mungo, 160, 162 ; cap- 
 tured, 165 
 ,, James, spy on Fraser, 170 
 ,, Captain John, 170, 172, 191, 
 197 
 
 Nazianzenus, St. Gregory, 105 
 Needham, Mother, 144, 209 
 Neesham, Sarah, marries Judge Jeffreys, 
 
 May, 1667, 69 
 Nelthorp, Richard, 80 
 Newgate, 87, 139, 141, 142, 146, 213, 
 
 214, 230, 236, 241, 242, 243, 261, 
 
 263, 264, 317 
 Newton House Lane, 230 
 Nicholson, Mr., 310 
 Norfolk, Duke of, 102 
 North, Roger, 96, 131 
 North British Review, 297 
 Norris, Miss, 266 
 Norwich, Dean of, 94 
 Nun, Judith, 230 
 Nuttall, Dr., 318 
 
 Oakey, Richard, 245 
 Dates, Titus, Life of, 95-154 
 
 ,, Titus, his suggestion about 
 Jeffreys, 72 ; reference to, by 
 Jeffreys, 74 ; trial of, 77 
 „ Mrs., mother of Titus, her 
 dream, 96; referred to, 151 
 „ Samuel, father of Titus, 95 ; 
 "dipping" in the provinces, 
 97 
 
 Gates, William, the horse stealer, 98 
 
 Ogilvie retainers. The, 6 
 
 Old Bagnio, The, 253 
 
 Oliva, Johannes Paulus de, General of 
 
 the Society of Jesus, 112 
 O'Mealey, magistrate, 286 
 Omer, St., 105, 121, 313 
 Orange, Prince of, 144 
 Ormiston, Laird of, 3 ; carried off by 
 
 Bothwell, 6 ; knighted, 23 
 Ormistons, 15, 18 
 Osmond, death of, 91 
 Oxburgh, Colonel Henry, fights due 
 
 with Charteris, 204 
 Oxe, Peter, 30 
 Oxford University refuses degree to 
 
 Oates, 129 
 Oxford Town Pulpit, Oates at, 129 
 
 Pagez, his. marriage, 15 
 Pain, Sarah, her evidence against Ire- 
 land, 124 
 Palmer, William, the Rugeley poisoner, 
 
 3" 
 Pamphlet, Hopkins's, 65, 66 
 Parker, a Papist, 91 
 
 „ William, 100 
 Parkins, Doctor Christopher, victimised 
 
 by Kelley, 49, 50 
 Partridge's Almanack, 142 
 Patrick, Bishop of Moray, 2 
 
 Earl, father of Bothwell, 2 ; 
 his divorce, ib. 
 Parrot, Mr., his murder, 83 
 Payne, Roger, 300 
 Pechell, Doctor, 90 ; suspended, 91 
 " Pecke in the Crowne," an imp, 59 
 Pembroke, Lord, 92 
 Penderells of Boscobel, 124 
 Penruddock, Colonel, 81 
 Pepys, Mr., 120, 153 
 Perth, Duke of, 169 
 Petre, Lord, apprehended, 118 
 
 „ Father, 92 
 Peveril of the Peak, 123 
 Pickering, Thomas, loi, io8, 122, 
 
 124 
 Pirglitz, 52 
 
 Pitt, Mr., a bookseller, 88 
 Player, Sir Thomas, 116 
 Pluckley, 104 
 
INDEX. 
 
 371 
 
 Plunkett, 250 ; he and Maclaine set up 
 as highwaymen, 251 ; their 
 first robbery, 252, 253, 254, 
 260 
 „ Archbishop, 72 
 
 PoUexfen, Counsellor, 79 
 
 Pope's warehouse, 130 
 
 " Popish Plot," Oates's description of, 
 130 
 
 Portsmouth, Duchess of, 69 
 
 Petersham, Lady Caroline, Countess of 
 Harrington, 259 
 
 Powell, Arnold, thief, 233 
 
 Power, Mr. Baron, 288 
 „ the Bushranger, 324 
 
 Powis, Lord, apprehended, 1 18 
 
 Prance, Miles, 120 
 
 Prague, 52 
 
 Prestonhall, Lord, 176 
 
 Prestonpans, Battle of, 191 
 
 Pretender, The, 195 ; lands in Scot- 
 land, 189 
 
 Pretty, an imp, 61 
 
 Prideaux, Ransom of, 86 
 
 Pride, Colonel, 97 
 
 Primrose Hill, 115 
 
 Procter, B. W., Mr., 294, 297, 298, 
 299. 300, 327 
 
 Pryme, Abraham de la, 141 
 
 Pucci, Francis, 44 
 
 Puyney, Mr., Ordinary of Newgate, 243 
 
 Pyewackett, an imp, 59 
 
 QUEENSBERRY, DUKE OF, 171, I72, 
 202 
 
 Queensberiy, Duchess of, plays cards 
 
 with Charteris, 202 
 Quin, Ellen, 323 
 Quincey, De, Thomas, 294, 302 
 
 Randolph, the English agent, 7, 8 
 Rann, Jerry, Wild's man, 237, 238 
 Raymond, Lord, 242 
 Read, Mary, 230 
 Reading, Nat, 141 
 "Red Cow," The, 92 
 Reresby, Sir John, 133 
 Reynolds, Hamilton, 294 
 Riccarton, Laird of, 9 
 Riccio, David, his murder, 1 1 
 Richards, Constable, 334 
 
 Richmond, Duke of, 270 
 
 Roes, 85 
 
 Rosebery, Earl of, 52 
 
 Rosenberg, 41, 48, 52 
 
 Rosencrantz, Eric, 29 
 
 Rosewell, Mr., 73 
 
 Rotheram, 75 
 
 Rowan seconds Fitzgerald, 268 
 
 Rudolph, 51, 52 
 
 Ruthven murders Riccio, 1 1 
 
 Sacke and Sugar, an imp, 59 
 Sadler's Wells, 296 
 Salamanca Wedding, The, 149 
 Salisbury, Jeffreys at, 81 
 Saltoun, Lord, 160, 161 
 Sancroft, Archbishop, 119 
 Santander, 103 
 " Saviour of the Nation," 98 
 Scanlan, Constable, murdered, 327 
 Scarven, 274 
 Schiern, Professor, 31 
 Scottish Rebellion, 177, 183, 187, 195 
 Scoto, an Italian rival of Kelley, 51 
 Scott, Dr. , 94 
 ,, Mr., manager of Bank at Euroa, 
 
 331. 332 
 Scroggs, Chief Justice, 121, 123, 137 ; 
 
 charged with bribery, 127 
 Sedlescombe School, 98 
 Selden, 57 
 Sellets, Sarah, 210 
 Sentence upon Oates, 1 39 
 Sentimentalities on the Fine Arts, 295 
 Shaftesbury, Lord, 128, 137 
 Sharp, John, Archbishop of York, 1 19 
 Sharpe, Dr., 88 
 
 Sharpus, Mr., money-lender, 307 
 Shepherd, Dr., his chapel, 88 
 Sheppard, Jack, 239 
 Sheriffmuir, 180 
 Sidney, Algernon, trial of, 73 
 Somerset House, loi, 120 
 Spruce-prigs, The, 231 
 Stafford, Lord, apprehended, 118; his 
 
 death, 129 
 Steele, Sergeant, captures Kelly, 347 
 Stern, John, Hopkins's assistant, 57-59 ; 
 
 his defence of Hopkins, 64 
 St. Germains, 166, 168, 169, 170, 172 
 Stillingfleet, Edward, 119 
 
372 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 St. John's College, Cambridge, gS 
 
 St. Margaret's Hill, fire at, III 
 
 Stoney Hill, 216 
 
 Stothard, the artist, 296 
 
 Strathbbgie, 26 
 
 Stratheric Estate, 158, 159, 166, 167 ; 
 
 Fraser escapes thither, 194 
 Stretham, Catherine, 241, 242 
 St. Stephen's boots, 131 
 Stuart, Lord James, 4 
 
 Taareveile, 32 
 
 Tait, Archiba,ld, 230 
 
 Talfourd, Mr. Serjeant, 304, 315 
 
 Tarleton, Mr., bank manager, 335 
 
 " Tatnam Court Road," 296 
 
 Taylor, Mr., 297 
 
 Temple, Lord, 281 
 
 Teniers, David, and Wilkie compared, 
 
 296 
 Thompson, Mr., fights and wounds 
 
 Fitzgerald, 266 
 Throndsson, Ann, 7, 29 
 Thornbury, Mr., 312 
 Thrift, John, hangman, 263 
 Throckmorton, his opinion of Both well, 
 
 S 
 Tillotson, Archbishop, 119 
 Tinellan, Tower of, 160 
 Tithe-pig, Metropolitan, 75 
 Tonge, Dr. Israel, 104, 108, 109, 113, 
 
 119; supposed attempt to 
 
 murder him, 124 
 „ Simpson, son of Dr. Tonge, 
 
 committed to Newgate, 132 
 " Topping horse," King Charles's, 113 
 Torcy, Marquis de, 169 
 Tory Tom, Incident of, 78 
 Townley, James, incumbent of Hendon, 
 
 270 
 Treby, Sir George, 71 
 Trenchard, John, his reports of Jeffreys, 
 
 71 
 Trevor, Sir John, 91 
 Trimmer, Mr., 93 
 Trinity College, Cambridge, Jeffreys at, 
 
 68 
 Trullibub, an imp, 61 
 Tuam, Archbishop of, 103 
 TuUibardine, Earl of, 27, 128, 157 
 Turner, Jesuit, executed, 125 
 
 Turner, the painter, 295, 296 
 
 Turnham Green, 293 
 
 Tyburn, 139, 140, 146, 230, 232, 243, 
 
 257, 263 
 Tylys, 8s 
 
 Utah, 45 
 
 Valladolid, 103 
 Vaughan, Miss, 278 
 Veronese, Paul, 295 
 Vinegar Tom, an imp, 59 
 Vry tings, 4 
 
 Wade, General, 182 
 Wainewright, Thomas Griffiths, 
 
 his life, 292-321 
 Wakeman, Sir George, 108, no, 113^ 
 
 122 ; his trial 125, 126 ; acquitted, 
 
 127 
 Walker, Daisey, 271 
 Wallop, Mr., counsel for Baxter, 74, 
 
 75. 139 
 Walpole, Horace, 37, 253 ; robbed by 
 
 Maclaine, 257 
 Walpole, Sir Robert, 214, 216 
 Wapping, 152, 153 
 
 Ward, Frances, marries Wainewright, 
 298, 299, 308 
 „ Mr., 298 
 ,, Sir Patience, 68 
 Waring, Paul, accomplice of Kelley, 35 
 Watkins, Sir Francis, 139 
 Watson, Dr. Thomas, Oates's tutor, 98, 
 
 99 
 
 "Weathercock steadfast for lack of 
 
 oil," 294 
 Wells, Margaret, married to Dates in 
 
 August, 1693, 149 
 Wemyss, Earl of, 209, 214 
 
 ,, Lady, 216 
 Westall, Richard, the painter, 296, 299 
 Western Martyrology, The, 83 
 Weston, Baron, 70 
 Webb, an English agent despatched to 
 
 the Emperor by Queen Elizabeth, 
 
 52 
 Wells, Jeffreys' " work " at, 84 
 Westminster School, Jeffreys at, 67 
 Wheatley, Mr., 313 
 
INDEX. 
 
 373 
 
 \yhitebread, a Jesuit, loi, 123 ; exe- 
 cuted, 125 
 
 Whitehall, 107; the Red Room at, 
 lo8 ; Oates confined to, 129 
 
 White Hart Inn, 196 
 
 „ Horse Tavern, no, 136 
 
 Wild, Andrew, 245 
 
 Wild Jonathan, Life of, 219-245 
 
 " Wild tacking of the Court," 70 
 „ Mrs., 236 
 
 Wilde, Justice, 121 
 
 Wilkie, Sir David, 299 
 
 Wilkins, Sarah, 209 
 
 William 111., 144, 151, 166, 167 
 
 Willis, Joan, a witch, 61 
 
 Wilmot, Sir John Eardley, Lieutenant- 
 Governor of Van Dieman's Land, 
 318 
 
 Wilson, Captain, 9 
 
 Winchester, Jeffreys at, 78 
 
 Windsor, 108 
 
 Withins, Sir Francis, 108, 139, 145 
 
 Wood, Anthony i, 98, 131, 144 
 
 Wood Street Church, 129 
 
 Wood Street Compter, Wild's detention 
 
 in, 221 
 Wolverhampton, 220 
 Woolrych, 68 
 Woolston, Thomas, 211 
 Worcester, Dean of, 79 
 
 „ 62 
 Wright, Sir Robert, Judge, 72, 78 
 
 Yelverton, Baron, 287 
 
 York, James, Duke of, 70, 71, 109, III, 
 
 114, 120, 131, 133, 13s 
 Young, Brigham, 45 
 
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