THE ORDINARY of NEWGATE'S ACCOUNT of the Behaviour, Confession, and Dying Words Of the FOUR MALEFACTORS Who were executed at TYBURN, On Wednesday the Third of OCTOBER, 1759.
LONDON: Printed by T. PARKER, in Jewin-Street, for the AUTHOR; And Sold by M. COOPER, in Pater-noster Row. M.DCC.LIX. [Price Six-pance.]
THE ORDINARY of NEWGATE'S ACCOUNT of the Behaviour, Confession, & Dying Words, &c.
BY virtue of his Majesty's commission of the Peace, Oyer and Terminer, and at the general sessions of jail delivery of Newgate, holden for the city of London and county of Middlesex, at Justice-hall in the Old Bailey, before the right hon. sir Richard Glynn, knight and bart. lord mayor of the city of London; the honourable mr. justice Bathurst, sir Eardley Wilmot, knt. sir William Moreton, knt. recorder , and others his majesty's justices of Oyer and Terminer for the said city, and county, on Wednesday the 11th, and Thursday the 12th of July, 1759, in the thirty-second year of his majesty's reign, Edward Norman was capitally convicted, for a robbery on the king's highway. And
By virtue of the king's commission of the peace, &c. holden for the city and county aforesaid, before the right hon. sir Richard Glynn, knight and bart. sir Richard Adams, knt. sir William Moreton, knt. recorder , and others of his majesty's justices of Oyer and Terminer for the said city, James Innis, John Rise, Nicholas Randal, and Richard Lamb were capitally convicted for the crimes in their several indictments mentioned.
On Friday the 28th of September, the report of the said five malefactors
was made to his majesty in council, when the four following were order'd for execution on Wednesday, October 3d, viz. Edward Norman, Richard Lamb, James Innis, and John Rise. And Nicholas Randal for shooting at John Hampton the younger , was respited during his mejesty's pleasure.
1. Edward Norman was indicted, for that he on the king's high-way, on Stephen Randall did make an assault, putting him in corporal fear and danger of his life, and stealing from his person on canvas bag, value one penny, one thirty-six shilling piece, and one half-guinea, the property of the said Stephen, July the 4 th.
Being found guilty by the jury, he was at first recommended to mercy; but there appearing two other indictments against him for facts of a like nature, and for that reason an objection made from the bench to the recommendation, the jury seemed to acquiesce, and submit the matter to the court, as having recommended him on supposition that this was his first and only fact.
When brought to the bar to receive sentence, being demanded if he had any thing to offer why sentence of death should not be pass'd upon him, he presented a petition to the court, and also read a paper, setting forth that he was born of a good family in Ireland, and had a suitable education; but being very early inclined to go to sea , he had served part of his time in the merchants service , and was then recommended to serve in his majesty's navy , in which he had actually been a midshipman for some years, and also pass'd examination for a lieutenant . In the former capacity he had been under capt. Gardiner who was killed in a bloody engagement taking the Foudroyant a French ship of war in the Mediterranean, and also served with several other captains, with one of whom he had been in action at the affair at St. Cas; earnestly begg'd for one more opportunity to serve his king and country, and make reparation for the injuries he had done; for this he pleaded most earnestly, with tears and sobs which obstructed his words, adding, that he was yet scarce a man, and that it was hard to be thus cut off in his early youth; that the temptation of his necessities had prevailed over him. The merciful and compassionate court, no less than the whole audience, appeared much affected with this distressful representation of his case; yet the court, intent on the administration of justice, did not promise to represent him as an object of mercy, but pray'd heaven to give him Grace to repent, and Faith to believe, for the salvation of his soul; recommending him earnestly to use all proper means charitably provided by this honourable city for that great and necessary end, and then pronounced the awful sentence of death upon him; which he received with little less shock than the stroke of a thunder-bolt.
Ye giddy, headstrong youth of every rank, chiefly young mariners, in
the vigour of vanity, or vice; who scarce ever think seriously, think on this! represent to yourselves the dreadful scene of judgment and the tremendous stroke of justice, both human, and divine justice. If nothing else can restrain you, when tempted by present pleasures, or imaginary wants, to commit any vice or crime, reflect whither it may lead you; present to yourselves the gloomy horrors that must now have seized and surrounded this young rash, unguarded, and unexperienced sinners, hurried back to a close dark cell; there to feed on his own miseries, and drink his own tears, under the sad apprehensions of suffering an ignominious death, the death of a dog! instead of living the life of a man! instead of doing service, credit, and honour to his country, his family and himself, like a man of virtue and reason, and true religion: and to live under the dismal expectation of this hard lot for many days or weeks, or months; and count each of such days reprieve, a mercy, and the means of mercy; tho' divided and almost distracted between saint and false hopes, and certain unavoidable fears, to breath and tainted air, and converse with more tainted company; to be pent up like a dangerous creature of prey, and pine away inactive for want of that wholesome air and free exercise, to which he was long inured; the mind all the while a prey to itself, to its own guilt, and woe. To have his manly muscles relax'd and chapfallen; and his well-braced nerves unstrung by the stupifying sloth and idleness of a jail: Sloth inevitable, as our jails have been and are at present managed; one only sure anchor of hope left, and that scarce laid hold on as it ought, 'till ready to sink.
One source of his misbehaviour seems to be his impatience for preferment, and his restless uneasiness under a disappointment, while his success not keeping pace with his too warm wishes, and eager desires, threw him into distresses, which pushed him on bad measures to relieve them; he expressed a strong sense of this, and a deep sorrow for it all along, through his confinement, and to his last moments sensible, tho' too late, that he ought to have trusted in God, and waited his time. Young men would fain be in a post of command, before they have learned to obey, or at least, before they are taught by a habit and practice to obey their superiors, and command themselves; these are rare accomplishments, and require more exercise than usually falls to a very young man's share.
Their friends, tho' more experienced, are teazed and hurried into a compliance with the unfledged ambition of their darling children, their fondling hopes, who being indulged, too often fall (like Phaeton in the fable) from the heighth of their hopes, far below their worst fears.
Hc nosse sauls, est adolescentulis.
It is to be with'd that a veil could be drawn over the birth, parentage, and connections of this unhappy offender, as the exposing of these was one great aggravation of his sufferings. However, as he himself mentioned them in his defence and apology at the bar, and on other occasions, it may be presumed not contrary to his intention, that some account should be given of them. Let the family that is without sin of shame, cast the first stone.
He was born of a genteel and reputable family at Drogheda in Ireland about April 1739, where he had a good and liberal education given him, suited to his parentage. While he was at the Latin School about the 11th year of his age, he took such a strong fancy to go to sea , that all his friends could not dissuade him from it. In order therefore to gratify this desire, he was put to learn navigation, which he took so quick, that in six or seven months he was fit to go aboard with capt. Lamport, to whom he was apprentice about April 1, 1750; who being an expert seaman, and good commander, soon led him into the practice of navigation. With him he used the foreign trade, sometimes to Norway, and sometimes up the Straits, to the coast of Africa, for corn, &c. in all which voyages he behaved himself so well to the captain's approbation, that in the third year of his time, he made him his second mate ; in the fourth prefer'd him to be his chief mate ; and in his fifth year, on the breaking out of the war, 1755, the lad applied to his said master for leave to go and serve his majesty king George; telling him he could make interest with a captain of a ship of war , and believed it would be greatly to his advantage; on which (as his said master sets forth in his certificate) "I readily complied, having a great inclination to serve my king and country".
So that it is evident he was no runaway from his apprenticeship, but honourably turn'd over to the king's service; in which also his future behaviour corresponded as to his seamanship, diligence, sobriety, and obedience; as may be fully made appear by the certificates of the several captains and officers he served under, all written prior to his present troubles, and therefore was not calculated by favour or affection to deliver him out of them.
One of them, signed A. Gardiner, dated on board the Monmouth, at Sea, the 28th of June, 1757. certifies to the honourable and principal officers, and commissioners of his majesty's navy , that mr. Edward Norman acted as midshipman on board his majesty's ship the Colchester, under his command, from the 2d of June 1755, to the 7th of September following; and being sent in with several vessels, detained by him by order of his present majesty, gave great marks of his good abilities, and always behaved himself with the greatest diligence and sobriety, and in all respects was obedient to command.
Another certificate signed by the same, of the same tenour and date, certifies his like good behaviour on board the Ramillies, from September the 8th, 1755, to May the 3d, 1756.
And another of the like tenour, certifies his service and good behaviour as midshipman on board the Portland, from June the 25th, 1756, to the date thereof, November the 6th, 1758 in Portsmouth Harbour, signed John Gillis, W. Parkin, Henry Lloyd. Capt. Gardiner having being killed in an engagement with the Foudroyant before this, as mentioned.
The Letters writ to him and in his behalf during his consinement, all testify the same thing; and that he was much beloved, and greatly lamented, both by his commanders, officers, shipmates, and other friends.
And his own letters written to some of them, on this most unhappy occasion, together with his behaviour, shew an hearty repentance, a proper sense of the comforts of it, and of returning to God in the paths of virtue and truth; which I hope he sincerely did, firmly resolving to walk in them to the end.
A few instances of these particulars may suffice.
One of his worthy captains wrote thus to him.
Rochester, July the 14th, 1759.
Mr. Norman, I Received yours, and am very sorry to hear of your misfortune, which would not have happened, had you taken my cordial advice. I have wrote to their lordships, and said every thing I could in your favour, and am in hopes they will get you a pardon; but as it is uncertain, would not have you depend on it, but take this my last advice; as you know what a wicked life you have lived, prepare yourself for death; and though you may lose your life, preserve your soul by a hearty repentance. Consider this misfortune will bring a scandal on your good father and family, may be break your poor old father's heart, and bring his grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. How can you forgive yourself this injury to your poor father, who, to my knowledge, indulged you in every thing to the utmost of his power; nay more than he could spare. For God's sake think and repent, as your life is so much in danger, that I am in fear for it; you have no occasion for a certificate as you desired, I have given you one to their lordships, better than you could ever desire; let me know if you hear any thing from the admiralty, or of a pardon.
I am, your Faithful Friend, &c.
The writer of this letter was captain of the ship in which he served at St. Cas, and was taken prisoner there, and being since exchang'd, had not yet got a ship. Norman waiting for his being put into commission (the delay of which he said was one occasion of his fall) was put aboard the Royal Ann, a guard-ship at Portsmouth, for that purpose; where he says the officers have little to do but wait on their friends, and receive and pay idle visits; by which he was exposed to expences, and various temptations, which betray'd him into his present sad circumstances.
He spoke very greatfully of capt. M -, the kind and paternal advice he often gave him, and the care he took of him; and made honourable mention of his good behaviour as a captain, and the frequent opportunities of divine service which he call'd for and kept up on board the ship he commanded. An example which all must allow to be good, and worthy of imitation; and which Norman acknowledged, had he made a right use of, he would never have fallen under his present misfortune.
SIR W - B - has order'd me to acquaint you, that as to the pentition you mention to have sent him, he has not receiv'd it; and that he has done you all the service in his power, with the lords of the admiralty.
I am sincerely concerned at the melancholy circumstances you have brought yourself under, by your thoughtless and imprudent conduct; and heartily with you a good deliverance out of your unhappy situation; and hope, if you receive his majesty's most gracious pardon, it will make you more circumspect, and a thorough reform in your behaviour for the future.
I am, Yours, &c.
The same correspondent in another letter says, "Every one of your acquaintance on board were extremely sorry to hear of your unfortunate situation, and would heartily rejoice at your happy clearance from so melancholy a prospect, which we earnestly with for, and in particular.
Sir, Yours, &c."
On Friday, July the 13th, the day after his conviction, being visited, and seriously applied to, he wept bitterly; lamenting his crime, and his other manifold follies and offences. Being ask'd what could draw him away to commit such a crime; he answered in general, he had forsaken God, and therefore God
had given him up to follow his own evil thoughts an purpose to his destruction. He chiefly bewail'd the reproach he had brought on a worthy family, the ill use he had made of the good education they had given him, and the kind and generous allowance continued to him.
Having join'd in prayers, which he seem'd to do seriously and devoutly, and attended to a proper exhortation, and the applying of the scriptures of the day to his case, he appear'd much more composed, and acknowledged he received great benefit and comfort thereby: Thus he daily improved under this heavy affliction, so that in a few days he own'd he believed this was the best thing that ever happened to him.
In compassion to his circumstances, it was proposed to him be some friend to desire to change his cell for a room somewhat better, as had been allow'd to some convicts; of this he took a day to consider, and then answered with a becoming humility and resignation, "That the cell was fittest for him in his present circumstances, that he neither desired nor deserved a better place at present, for that he could be there more retired for his devotions." Being ask'd whethere he made a good use of his bible and prayer-book, &c. which had been put into his hands, by reading and meditating on the daily psalms and lessons? He answered, he scarce did any thing else; for as he could not sleep well, he waked and watched for the benefit of reading and prayer.
On occasion of his being visited one day by three decent looking women, I had some conversation with him; he told me one of them, to whom he had made honest love, came from 'Portsmouth to see him, but that he had now weaned himself from the thoughts and follies of this life, as much as man could do; that on their first coming he had sent them word he could not come out of his cell to wait on them; but that being call'd down to prayers soon after, he could not avoid meeting them.
About this time a remarkable affair happened by the application of a young woman, who came to him under the guise and character of his aunt's daughter, whth the following note:
THIS comes from your aunt, who is in a flood of tears conserning you; have come to town on porpouse to do you all the service in my power, have sent this by my daughter your cozen, so desire the keeper to admit us both to you. am your poor disconsolate aunt ,
This supposed or real cousin visited, him now and then for some time, but a hint being whispered in the Pressyard (whether true or false) that she
was known to come to others in the prison before him, and the drift of her conversation tending to draw from him what money or accomplices he had, gave him a suspicion all was not real: though the part was so well play'd, that great pains seem'd to be taken, by delivering petitions, &c. in order to save him. Till at length the personated mother of this young woman appearing, and being unable to clear up his doubts, the intercourse, or farce, ended, a month or two since; though he has acknowledged his uncertainty about the whole affair, as he has been abroad, and a stranger to his family from his childhood.
While this affair was going on, a reflection occurred, which, whether just or not, is submitted. When a man is once fallen a prey to the delusions of the grand deceiver of mankind, othere deceivers are let loose to work their wiles upon him: attend therefore to the voice of divine wisdom, Matt. xxiv. 4. Take heed that no man deceive you, - a caution now, if ever, most necessary.
September 29, the death warrant being sent the preceding night, when the prisoners were visited this morning, poor Norman was found walking in the Press-yard, with a most distressful countenance, and his face bedewed with (not unmanly) tears; on my enquiring how he was, he answered, he was content to submit to the will of God, and was enabled to bear this heavy stroke better than he could expect; own'd he had been buoy'd up with false hopes, which he wished his friends had not given him; however, he hoped it would all turn to his greater advantage; for though this body of his must return to the earth, he hoped his spirit would return to God that gave it. These were his words. He was now reminded that he had been cautioned all along against trusting to the hopes of a respite or pardon, though it was known his friends had earnestly laboured to procure it for him; that now was the trying hour, to prove how he had made use of the time so graciously indulged to him, and whether his repentance was real and unfeigned, or otherwise: he acknowledged that he the more cheerfully submitted to the will of God, in undergoing the execution of his sentence, because he is perswaded He knew what is best for him; that he might, if spared, fall when less prepared than at present; for that it was impossible for any man to answer for himself in his way, and time of life, that he should not relapse and be hardened into a state of impenitence.
However, it appeared on this and the following day, that the love of life was still exceeding strong in him, and that he made one more effort to save it, by a petition to a noble lord, who had been before strongly solicited on the same account; in which, when he found little or no hope of success, his grief and anguish again returned upon him so strongly, that he could scarce contain himself, and be composed for
the duties of the chapel. Being asked in the stood of grief once more how he came to be guilty of such a fact as that for which he was convicted; he acknowledged he had spent his money, and was reduced to such straits, that he had not so much as would pay the machine to carry him to Portsmouth, had no friend left that would lend him so much, and was upon indifferent terms with his father, so that he could not draw a bill upon him.
This surely will be a warning to young men to keep their expences within bounds, and not run themselves into hard and tempting necessity.
On Tuesday, October 2, when visited in the morning, the holy communion was administered according to a previous notice; the three convicts received it with some other prisoners; and when visited again in the evening, Norman gave such an account of the inward support and comfort he felt arising and increasing in him, especially in his retirements, from that time, as afforded great satisfaction and joy, and a well grounded hope that he should make a happy change, to which he declared himself resigned and reconciled: for tho' he was fond of life, as it is natural, and had entertained strong hopes of a pardon, and an opportunity of serve his King and country once more; yet he did not lose sight of his main object, nor omit any means of preparing either himself or his fellow prisoners for their great change. This was observable in his care of Lamb, after his conviction; nor was he wanting to convince Innis of the errors of popery, which he professed, though it proved to little purpose.
Justice, and the satisfaction due to the public, perhaps require it should be know, Mr. Norman did finally acknowledge the truth of the charges laid against him in the several indictments, tho' sensible he sealed his own death-warrant by such acknowledgment.
2. James Innis was indicted, for that he, on the king's highway, on Ive Whitbread, esq; did make an assault, putting him in corporal fear, and danger of his life, and taking from his person on silver watch, value 31. one gold ring, value 10s. one guinea, and two shillings in money, numbered, his property, August 3.
This convict declaring himself immediately after conviction, of a different persuasion from us, which rejects our best intended offices and assistance, sealed up any account, which might be expected of his birth, parentage, education of life. However, it appeared he was about the age of between 20 and 30 years. His father he said was a farrier at Epsom; he had learned to read, and then served four years as an apprentice at sea ; but ran away from thence, and took up his father's trade of a farrier ; he said he also lived as a servant in several families in London, and had sometimes gone to church.
Some time before the fact he was convicted of, he went to Portsmouth with a view to enter himself in the sea service; there he fell in with a farrier, who finding him a workman, offered him 18 l. a year, with diet and lodging, to work for him, which he seemed to accept, on trial; but being of a roving disposition, in a few days set out again for London. On his way to take a place for that purpose, an accident befel him, which he since considered as a bad presage of his impending destiny. Before he got to the coach he fainted away, which so shocked him, that he was almost discouraged from returning: however, despising his fears, and getting the better of them, he ventured back to London, and in a little time after was apprehended, imprisoned, tried and convicted for this fact.
The excuse he made for it is considered, by all honest men, rather as an aggravation of his crime, that he was drunk when he did it: for, says he, had I been sober I should never have acted so foolish and unguarded. Being pursued by a barber to an inn at Highgate, where his horse stood at the door, and himself lay drunk, a soldier helped to seize him.
The following letter, as it may be the happy means of preventing and saving many rash unthinking creatures from going on the road to certain ruin, will plead its own apology to the writer, and the publick for its appearance in print.
Poor Master INNYS!
THough the accident by which you and I became acquainted, seems to call for resentment from me; yet the sense of my duty and of your situation, melts me into compassion. I am greatly concerned for you; I wish you were so much concern'd for yourself. I know not whether any thing, but that thorough insensibility which you discover'd when I saw you last, cou'd have induc'd me to give that evidence against you, which may possibly prove fetal to you. But I saw no hope of doing justice to mankind, or even of shewing kindness to yourself, by any other method. It was not likely that my silence would have done it. You are sensible that your escape, after the attack made upon me, was only an encouragement to you to attempt the next proper person you met. And if I, and the other persons concerned, had suppress'd our evidence against you, it is hardly probable that it would have had any other effect than to raise in you and expectation of being able to get off again in the same manner, till you might have been led at last to consider your very pardon barely as a privilege to proceed in your profession.
You have now time to consider where that must have ended; you might have met with the vengeance you were used to threaten in the very act of your injustice and violence, and have been hurried in an instant before that Judge,
who wants no evidence, with a heart loaded with guilt, and a mouth incapable of begging mercy. If you could have escap'd that vengeance from other hands, you would have been every day, by the increase of your wickedness, pulling down a heavier judgment on your head by your own: and every hour of your life would have added to that weight which you already feel, if you have any feeling, too heavy for you to bear. If you are not yet brought to a sense of your guilt and of your danger, I pray God to give it you.
For you may aggravate even the pains of hell, by flattering yourself into a disbelief of them. God forbid that I should pass that dreadful sentence upon you. May he make me instrumental in saving you from destruction! Let us reason together a little. You knew that by the laws of this land, death was the punishment appointed for your crimes. You could not be so ignorant of the short histories of those who had travelled the same road before you, as not to be convinced that it could hardly be possible for you, by an skill or fortune, to elude that punishment long. If you could think of death without fear, had you never a thought of what would become of you after you were dead? Did you fancy that when you should leave this world, you could pass into any other, in which your wickedness would meet with a less certain or less rigorous censure than it had received in this? Could you hope that after you had been judged to be too bad to live amongst men, you could be fit to be admitted into better company in heaven? If you had never read in the bible, if you had never heard in any place of christian worship of evil spirits, and hell and eternal damnation, you could not fail of hearing them too often from the horrid mouths of your reprobate companions. And, if you never thought, did you never fear in earnest that your impious course would lead you down to the chambers of destruction, where shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth! Did you never in the confusion of your waking or sleeping apprehensions hear that horrible sentence thundered in your ears, Go ye wicked into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels?
It has pleased God in mercy to cut you short in the haste you were making towards perdition. Oh! lose not the happy opportunity of reflecting upon your danger and the means of escaping it. An opportunity you never would have been wise enough to have allowed yourself, is now indulg'd to you by a too long forgotten, and too much offended God. Lay hold of it while it offers. Leave not a moment of it unemployed. Consider how you can dwell with everlasting burnings! yet these must be your portion if you die without repenting.
Humble yourself, soul and body, before that God whose prisoner you are, and beg of him to teach you how you may avoid his vengeance. If you knew any method of escaping the sen
tence you expect in this world, you would not sleep till you had done every thing that you found necessary to clear you at that bar. And can you be less follicitous to be acquitted at a more tremendous judgement seat? Let me shew you what judge you should fear. Fear him who is able and determined to cast both the body and the soul of them who persist in their disobedience into everlasting fire. Him shall you fear!
Alas! you have but too sad reason to fear him, who have liv'd in an open contempt of his authority, and in a state of perpetual was against those whom he has commanded you to love as yourself.
Would any earthly government doubt about inflicting the severest penalties upon those who despise their jurisdiction, and oppress their subjects? And what should incline you to fancy that God is less jealous of his Majesty, or less careful to protect the privileges of his people, than any worldly power can be! Consider the heinousness and complication of your crime; and embrace the only method which God has been pleas'd to appoint for comprehending you in his act of indemnity. I say, reflect what a wretched life you have led, and try, if it be yet possible, to obtain God's pardon for it.
Let me shew you the nature of your crime, and what you must do if you hope to be forgiven for it. Though I am a stranger to any part of your life, except that which has brought you to justice, yet it will not be uncharitable in me to suppose the whole of it to have been very bad indeed, before you could entertain a thought of once committing that crime which was now become so habitual to you, that you could repeat it bare-faced in the sight of the fun.
The very form of an indictment in this case supposes, that it was impossible for you to proceed to such an outrange, while you had the fear of God before your eyes. And it is most certain, that no one who has any awe of the great Governor of the world, can go on determinately in the breach of so plain a law of his, as that which says, Thou shalt not steal! Nay, more, Thou shalt not covet any thing which is another's. This law you have notoriously violated. But yours is not a common thest.
Conscious of his guilt, and the penalties which pursue it, the inexperienced thief works under cover and in the dark. But you have added impudence to injustice! hardened in your villainy, you steel'd your face with assurance, and despised a mask. To this you added threatnings always, and often violence. If no life be lost, who can answer for the impressions such sudden terrors may make on the minds of children, of women, in some circumstances particularly, and even of men. Think how you would have lik'd it yourself. And though I cannot charge you with the act of murder, I make no scruple to pronounce you guilty of the intention of it. Ask yourself why you were provided with arms, but to excute
your menaces in case of resistance or pursuit? what calamities might you have brought upon a family by this means, in the loss of an husband, a father, a friend; and on the unhappy sufferer himself, hurried out of life without mercy, and without preparation.
That this happens not more often amongst you, I attribute less to your humanity than your fear; I make no difference between a murtherer, and a robber, who is always ready and resolved to commit a murder, except when he finds it either not necessary, or not convenient: and you have not the least shallow pretence to palliate your guilt.
Being a mechanick, you knew how to subsist, being young and healthy you were able to do it; being unmarried, you had no demands of a family to supply. Being never rais'd above the rank in which you were bred, you had not even an imaginary character to support, you could have none of those fashionable necessities which will be supplied at the expence of virtue, and with the hazard of life.
As you had no visible reason to impel you to this last act of desperate wickedness, consider what were your secret motives to it: this, I fear, will lead you into scenes of darkness, where no good man will care to follow you. Look back upon them with abhorrence. And now, to-day, if you will hear the voice of your Redeemer, harden not your heart! There is but one way to save you from inconceivable and eternal misery, and admit you into the conditions of the christian covenant, and that is with hearty repentance and true faith to turn unto the Lord. Cry out with the sinking apostle, Help, Lord, or I perish! But there is one necessary part of repentance, without which you can have no hope, and that is, as far as you can, reparation. God wants not your confession, but it may be of use of your country, which you have injur'd. The only imaginable way in which you can shew the reality of your sorrow for the injuries you have done to mankind, is to make a fair and full confession of all those persons, places and practices, which have been in any manner instrumental to carry on your wicked schemes, either by instigating, assisting or concealing them. Without this, all pretence to repentance will only add hypocrisy to your other crimes, and make your damnation unavoidable; for without this, you continue to encourage the wickedness for which you suffer, and even to repeat it, as far as in you lies, after you are laid in the grave.
In this necessary part of your duty, let me recommend you to the direction of that vigilant magistrate mr. Fielding. In your religious exercises, which I hope will be constant and devout, the minister appointed to attend persons in your unhappy circumstances, will be your proper help.
Abstain from drink and company; and acquaint yourself with God: to
whose good sprit I commend you, through the intercession of Christ Jesus our Redeemer. Farwell.
Your real friend, and Lover of your soul, Eton College, August 17th, 1759. T- A -.
This letter was delivered to Innys in the press-yard, Sept. 29, in my presence; but so cautious or suspicious was he of my being made privy to the contents, that he would not open it while I was there; on which Norman said to him, I dare say it is no more than a letter of good advice, sent to you, and if you please I'll read it to you; the runner who delivered it confirmed this, on which they went apart, and in about a quarter of an hour mr. Norman brought the letter up to me to the chapel-closet, with great commendations of it; saying, It conveyed excellent advice, delivered in a very affecting manner.
The reading over this letter led me to reflect, how excellent! how truly divine, must be the principles of that religion, which the writer has the honour to profess and teach; that instead of pursuing the person who robbed, and threatned to put him to death, with those just reproaches and insults which such an outrage deserves, he pursues him with the truest acts of love and friendship, which, if received as intended, must tend to make the very injuries he had offered him, the occasion and means of saving the offender from those miseries, and that fatal perdition, to which they exposed him inevitably every moment he continued under the dreadful guilt of them. But how virulent and strong is the force of bigotry and superstition, which could make the criminal, because bred up in a different persuasion, despise all this advice, and the inestimable charity which conveyed it, merely on account of the hand it came from - which ought to have stamped it with the strongest recommendation, of a for bearing and forgiving charity.
This proves Innys's to be a corruption of the best religion, which neither has in itself, nor will receive from others, the genuine fruits of a christian charity.
Innys being asked if he would follow the advice given him in the letter, particularly to discover his accomplices, &c. he answered, he had told all he had to say to his own director, who would not divulge it, nor have it cried about the streets. Wretched shifts! poor comforts these! But should not his repentance be as publick (if sincere) as his offence, and the punishment of it?
3. Richard Lamb, was indicted for the wilful murder of William Kendall, August 31. As this prisoner was found guilty on Friday the 14th of September, and immediately received sentence to be executed on Monday the 17th, he was visited the first opportunity of admittance to him, which is scarce practicable 'till the sessions are ended, unless in case of urgent necessity; but has it was whisper'd there was a design to call in a priest of the church of Rome to him, (a most extraordinary attempt on a man in his majesty's guards!) there was no time to be lost.
Among the proper exhortations and applications of Scripture, made to him with relation to his crime, the service of the day presented a part of the 16th chapter of St. Matthew, verse the 16th to the 20th, which afforded a proper opportunity to shew him the true meaning of that text, wrested by the church of Rome, on which to build the Pope's infallibility, successorship to St. Peter, and their universal dominion. The fallacy of their claim was put in so clear and plain a light before him, together
with the danger of their other doctrines and practices to means souls, that he declared, after service, from his own conviction, and experience, he would have no more to do with them, tho' he had been seduced by them.
On this occasion, and afterwards, he open'd himself so freely on this subject, and so firmly withstood the attempts that were made quickly after to recover and pervert him, that there is reason to believe he kept his promise.
Of his birth and education, he gave this account; that he was born in Lincolnshire, that he never had any learning nor correction, or instruction in religion; was bred up a miller among his cousins; three of whom being his fellow-'prentices, treated him hardly, which provoked him to enlist for a soldier about eight years since; that his mother died when he was young, and his father camp up to London above twenty years ago, where he has ever since wrought about the wharfs as a coal-heaver; has visited him since his consinement, but could scarce bear the affliction. Believes his friends profess'd to be of the church of England, but rarely attended the service of it.
After he was inlisted, his ignorance and youth quickly exposed him to two sorts of dangers; the vices of the soldiery, and the subtle insinuations of popery; both which got some hold of him too suddenly. Of the methods of progress of which, he gave a particular account at different times, in hopes to warn and save other unexperienced and thoughtless sinners out of the same snared. And may it please the Divine Mercy, to make his punishment and these papers useful to that good and necessary purpose.
Concerning the fact he was convicted of, he gave this account; that as he was drinking six-penny worth of rum and water at a publick house, in St. John's parish, Westminster, he was attack'd by two men, who dragg'd him out of the house; and one of them, the deceased, challenged him to fight; which he refusing, was very much beaten and bruised about the face, so that his eyes were almost closed with swelling, of which he had the marks still remaining: That in the scuffle, one of the said two men received a stab, of which he has since died; but how this happen'd he could not say, for there was no knife found upon him, tho' search'd twice; nor about the ground where the scuffle was: that he might have gone away after this accident, but would not; and that one of the men who was the chief occasion of the quarrel, was acquitted and dismiss'd. Being ask'd what occasion'd this quarrel; he said it was about a woman which these two men kept company with, and were jealous of him as she was then in his company, and had borne a child by him.
This was the account he gave before his trial; after which being again questioned, he declared that Archy Knox (or Noak as called in the trial) a soldier in the third regiment of guards, treated the deceased Kendall with liquor; to come and help to beat him, and so was the beginner of all this mischief: That he knew not how the wound was given, for that he had been drinking with Moll S - th all that afternoon, having got a guinea from a friend, of which he had spent twelve shillings that day; as a farther proof that he knew not what he did, he said he was not sensible these two men Knox, and the deceased Kendall, had been to seek him in the Three Tuns alehouse, and had been turn'd out by the landlady once before they dragg'd him out, and
both sell on him to beat him. On this occasion the guilt of murder, and the horrid causes and consequences of it, were laid before him and his fellow prisoners.
September the 15th. Being visited again, and urged to a confession of his crimes, he again declared, that as to the fact for which he was to die, he could not say how it happened, because he had been drinking all that day, and was very much fuddled; beside, his rage and passion raised him to a madness; being urged to declare what weapon he used, he declared he knew nothing of it. It was suggested to him, that perhaps in might be the oyster knife, as he was then eating oysters. But this he did not give into; nor indeed was it likely, as he had been fighting with his first after he had eat his oysters; however, he said he had heard while he was in the Gatehouse, that a woman confess'd she had put a knife into his hand in the fray; but this story he rejected, because he thought no woman would confess thus much, as it might bring herself into trouble. He owns that he has been so much given to drunkenness, and other vices, that he now wonders how he was suffered to live, and go on in them so long; and that since his confinement, and trouble, and the instruction he has had, he has been every hour more and more sensible of his wickedness, and that it is his constant employment when alone, to pray for God's mercy to pardon his sins.
Being ask'd how he got his money to spend in drinking, whether he worked at any trade or labour, because his pay could not afford it; he freely own'd he did not work at any labour since he was a soldier, but that he had got money from the street-walkers, and women of the town, or passing for their husband, and being useful to them in their horrid way of life; such as getting them credit for lodging, saving them from the watch and roundhouse in their nightly walks, and protecting or rescuing them in their adventures along the streets; and he farther said, that many men in the same corps raised large contributions by such practices. He lamented much his ignorance and want of resolution to resist temptations when he first went for a soldier; for that he was very early drawn into all their vices, by those veterans in wickedness, who make it their common pleasure and employment, to draw all young soldiers in, to be as bad an themselves, and ridicule and despise any that dare be singular and resist their solicitations.
The methods used for this, are first to invite and treat them with drink; and when half drunk, lead them first into one scene of vice, and then into another; till they have got fast hold of them, and confirmed them in all their wicked practices, too common, and so well known among them, that they need not be here explained. But one would think it were a care and consideration worthy the commanders and officers best attention and diligence, to prevent the practice of such vices and iniquities among their soldiers, as hazard the loss, or defeat the purposes of them, as men enlisted and supported to guard their king and country, And indeed, instead of a safe-guard, turn them into deserters, spies, traitors, or parricides to both.
It is doubtless the duty of every penitent, when converted himself, to strive to convert and save his fellow sinners: and for that end, he declared he was now sensible of the dreadful situation he had long lived in: the danger of being shut out of the kingdom of heaven, and condemned to the torments of hell for ever and ever; and wished
all his partners in guilt might be warned by his punishment, to repent, and forsake their errors, left a worse punishment should be their final doom; owned that he had never before now thought of this, nor taken time to consider of it. But now he remembered that in the midst of all his pleasures, though he had plenty of good meat, drink, and money, frequented the publick gardens, playhouses, and the like, he still felt something within, that made him uneasy, and never would let him rest, till stupified and besotted with liquor; and was amazed how he could live so long in that way: but now, that he began to feel a sorrow for his sins, and grace to pray to God for pardon, he was more and more reconciled to death, and as free to suffer as to escape it.
This morning I received a letter from Edward Norman, with an earnest and pious request, that considering the desperate situation of the unhappy soldier Richard Lamb, now condemned for murder, and that he cannot read, he might be permitted to assist him by reading to him, and endeavouring to prepare him for the Holy Communion and his approaching death. This on application was granted, and it is hoped to good purpose; for next morning, on enquiry of each of them apart, I was satisfied they had been well employed in devout exercises till eleven at night, and then again arose at midnight, and returned to their reading and devotions. Lamb told me expressly, he had been employ'd in begging of God the forgiveness of his sins, and that he had a lively hope and belief that God wou'd be merciful to him, and forgive him all his sins, filling him with an abhorrence and detestation of all his former wicked courses; and that he wish'd to warn his former companions, and all others, against the danger and dreadful consequences of such courses to his last breath; hoping and praying they might take warning by his sufferings. He also readily consented to kneel down, and pray for a renewed and contrite heart, by heartily repeating the fifty -first psalm, especially from verse 9 to 14; Turn thy face from my sins, and put out all my misdeeds. Make me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right sprit within me. O give me the comfort of thy help again, and stablish me with thy free spirit. Then shall I teach thy ways unto the wicked: and sinners shall be converted unto thee. Cast me not away from thy presence: and take not thy holy spirit from me. Deliver me from blood guiltiness, O God, thou that art the God of my health, and my tongue shall sing of thy righteousness.
The discourse on this occasion was chiefly levelled against the sin of drunkenness, and all its hateful horrid consequences, chiefly the murder now before us.
An honourable gentleman who heard the trial, and observed some circumstances that made his case doubtful, interceded for a respite for him, of which notice came the Sunday evening before the morning of execution, being intended to give time till his case and character should be more fully considered. He appeared as composed and unconcerned at this news, when visited next morning, as he seemed undismayed the day before at his expected death; however, he expressed his grateful sense of it, both by a publick acknowledgement in the chapel, and by going on in his work of repentance, through the whole time allowed him till his execution; one means used for his purpose, was putting him into a method of learning to read, in which he laboured with such delight, diligence and success, that he made a progress in a few days, which really pleased and surprized me. As this talent well directed might be a preservative both against his former errors and vices, another was also recommended to him (besides the constant use of spiritual means,) viz. the exercise of some honest labour and industry at his leisure hours, which he promised to put in practice, should his life be
spared. He declared he found more pleasure in what little he could read, than in all his former vicious employments.
Let those sinners, his companions, and all others whose death-warrant from heaven, and the execution of it, is yet respited, perhaps for a few days, learn from hence to be wife, and improve that respite to the great purpose of obtaining mercy! sure mercy, without end! O! that they would no longer despise the riches of the divine goodness, and for bearance and long suffering; but know that his goodness leads them to repentance; that they would embrace and hold fast all the means of grace, and with these poor convicts watch and pray day and night, before they fall finally, and be lost eternally. For in the supreme court of heaven, who dare say he is not a convict, under sentence of death!
And now let me ask the infidel to the immortality of the soul, and the resurrection of the body, &c. whether he can still most absurdly think, that all these dawnings of hope and fear, and every effort and affection of the human spirit, and overcast with endless night? and that the wicked and the righteous, the innocent and criminal, the virtuous and the vicious, the penitent and obdurate, are all confounded in one senseless, undistinguished mass. What then will become of the divine attributes of wisdom, goodness, justice, mercy and truth? Verily there is a reward for the righteous, doubtless there is a God that judgeth the earth.
The application for this respite having been made through two different channels, instead of one, produced two respites, the one during his majesty's pleasure, the other for fifteen days, both which were deemed to be superfeded by his being reported and included in death warrant.
In this interval, being questioned about his character in his regiment, and his desertion, which, it seems, proved obstacles to his farther respite, or pardon, he explained both in his own way. - That about two years ago, he was for some days on a drinking frolick with six or seven of his fellow soldiers, in the same company, capt. F - 's; in this drunken mood, they all resolved to go to sea, which they did, and he was absent eleven months; but on his return he was pardoned by his commander, and received to his company.
He acknowledged that after this, he neglected hi duty several times last summer, (though formerly his character as a private soldier, had been as good as any man's). This neglect he imputed to drinking, idle company, and other vices, which he was led into by the money and other presents given by certain persons, from whom he sometimes had five shillings, sometimes half a guinea, or more at a time. He acknowledged on another occasion, that when he deserted he had money given him by a certain P - t, to bear his charges to Fr-ce; and though no absolutely engagted, was told "he might as "well go thither, where he could live as "well as any where else." Why he did not go, does not appear; but it is said he was put ashore here, all distempered, and sent to an hospital; where the terrors of being tried and shot for desertion, hindering the progress of his cure, he was, by kind intercession, and for good-natured reasons, promised a pardon, and received again to his regiment on his recovery; where instead of reforming, he again neglected his duty.
On this occasion proper cautions and earnest dissuasives were again pressed on him to avoid relapsing into the like errors, and vile practices, against all which he declared himself now firmly resolved, expressing great satisfaction and thankfulness in being rescued from the darkness, superstition, and evil practices of popery.
He was born in the parish of Pagham in Sussex; about five miles from Chichester, not far from the sea, where he was bred up. His father was a farmer, but died when he was between two and three years old; leaving nine children and a widow, who married again; the rest of the children were put to service, and this being the youngest, sell to the parish for some years, 'till fit to go to some little service; such as driving of cattle , and the like; which he did at Bosham, within three miles of Chichester; with William and Harry Silverlock; in whose service he lived about nine years; during which time he married a sawyer's daughter, and his father-in-law taught him to saw, so that he wrought at the sawyer's trade fourteen or fifteen years at different place: first; near chichester with mr. Henry Hounson, three miles from that city, then with mr. John Tinman, cooper and timber merchant at Westbourn in Sussex, six miles from thence; after this, about two years and a half ago, he moved to Isleworth, and worked at the same trade for mr. Giles Polton, and mr. Thomas Polton his brother, both house carpenters . He commonly earned ten shillings a week at this trade. Since Christmas he went to Chichesier four or five times, and all his transactions and dealings abouve horses have happened since that; and all the indictments and charges against him as he says, have arisen from thence. Being press'd to reflect seriously on his guilt, in departing from the laws of God, and putting his trust in his providence in the way of honest industry, he shed tears, and own'd he was deply sensible of his folly and guilt, in thus forsaking the ways of justice and honesty.
During this time he was concerned in seven horses, three at once, and four singly; gave one guinea and a half for one, seven guineas for another, three guineas and a half a piece for three other, and two guineas and a half for the other two, bought them all of William Linney of Westbourn in Sussex, who dealt in horses and hogs, and was taken up there and brought to Isleworth; but that he made his story out so good, that they let him go again; believing this prisoner to be the thief, and that he had confederates, also that he knew more than he really did, and because he would not own to lies, they prosecuted him.
An officer, who lost a horse at Brentford, value twenty-five guineas, came to him since his confinement, to learn if he knew any thing of the said horse, by himself or confederates; but he denies that he knew any thing of that or any other horse that he has been examined about since his conviction; and never had any other confederate than the aforesaid William Linney, who he hears is gone aside: he says that he has bought and sold horses for thirty years, but never had the misfortune to but a stolen horse before last Christmas. This seemed to be his manner of talking to cover his guilt: being questioned, therefore, in the most earnest and solemn manner, as a dying man, he declared he would not tell a lie for the whole world; - that he never stole a horse in his life, but only bought stolen horses since Christmas last, without knowing them to be stolen. Being asked, why then the man was not secured who sold him the horses? he answered, that he made a tolerable good story, and so they let him go; but their spight was against himself.
Being questioned about his occupation as a smuggler , he own'd he was concern'd in smuggling for about two years and a half before the year 1747-8, but never since; that his part in it was helping to land, conceal and convey away the goods, but did not go
to sea. As to the affair at Pool, he said thirty men assembled to recover thirty hundred three quarters of tea, from the king's customhouse at Pool; that they broke open the house and carried off the tea; that as they were going along shore for that purpose, about midnight, they met some fishermen going out in their boats, all of whom were got in except one, whom they seized, and left John Rise to guard him, lest he should alarm the officers and people. They found two watchmen at the custom-house, but they made no resistance; so they gave these three men a guinea for hush-money, after they had loaded their horses with the tea; this was about Michaelmas. On Valentine's day, i. e. in February after, Daniel Chater, a shoe-maker , and one Galley, a customhouse officer, going to seek after the authors of this fact, were murdered: the shoe-maker being hanged on the rail of a well, and the other thrown of his horse and whipt to death. This Rise said that he was ordered by the gang to go two miles and a half to fetch his horse, and so went away to Chichester, where he was when the fact was done; that when he was sent away the agreement among the smugglers was to carry these two to some lonely habitation, and give them a weekly allowance to maintain them, till John Diamond, otherwise Shepherd, then in custody, should be acquitted, as Chater was to be an evidence against him.
How far this account agrees with the evidence given by this Rise or Raise on the trials, may be seen by comparing them.
On the Morning of EXECUTION.
THE two young men, Norman and Lamb, came down from their cells into the Press-yard, clean dressed, and with chearful but composed countenances; each being asked how they were, and how they had passed the night? answered, very well. Norman added, "he hoped this would be "the most joyful day to him that he had "ever seen." Nor was rise too much dejected, but calm and resigned. Having walked a few minutes about the yard, they all three went up to chapel, and joined earnestly in the Litany, and some other proper prayers, together with the Communion service, and devoutly received the holy Sacrament; the administration of which being ended, they continued on their knees at their private devotions for near a quarter of an hour, Mr. Norman reading the Prayers and Thanksgivings to the other two with an audible voice. Being returned from the chapel, their irons were knocked off, and they were bound with cords in order to be put into the cart, and carried to execution, for which purpose they were carried out in two carts, Norman and Lamb in the first, and Innis and Rise in the second cart. Being brought to the place of execution, a new and moveable gallows had been erected for that purpose, to which they were tied up. while this was doing, Mr. Norman addressed himself to the multitude, beseeching them all to take warning by the sad untimely fate of himself and his fellow sufferers, to live ever in the fear of God, and in keeping his commandments; expressing his hearty forrow for all his transgressions of them, and particularly for the crime that brought him to this: to guard them against the like, he earnestly recommended to them to learn, study and meditate on the ten commandments, and not allow themselves in the neglect or transgression of any branch of duty contained under them; that he spoke for his fellow criminals as well as himself, whose sense he delivered for them - that God is not to be mocked, - that he is too holy and just to permit the transgressors of his laws to go wholly unpunished, or ever to enjoy his presence without being perfectly cleansed from their sin: that by the benefit of true repentance and a lively faith, he hoped their punishment would end with this life; for that he had an humble but stedfast hope of pardon and mercy, through the merits of Jesus Christ. he earnestly entreated all those that are in necessity, affliction of distress, to put their whole trust in God, in the use of honest means, and not have recourse to any wicked ways for their relief, as he had foolishly done. For I, says he, in my necessity sled to satan, and he has deceived and betrayed me! had I trusted in God, he would have relieved and delivered me; but I now return to him, and trust in him, that he will deliver me out of this snare, and shew mercy on me for the sake of our blessed Redeemer. Having spoke sometimes to this effect, when ready, they were called upon to join in proper prayers, and in recommending their souls to mercy, in which a part of the surrounding crowds that were near enough to hear, being requested, joined with them, behaving themselves with attention and devotion; several both on foot and in coaches being melted into tears at the
sight, and particularly at Mr. Norman's words and behaviour.
At a proper interval they were severally asked, whether the confessions they had before made were strictly true? and whether they had any thing to add to them? each answered he had told me nothing but the truth, and had no more to add.
At this time Mr. Norman again spoke to the people, exhorting them to live like Christians, and observe that great moral precept of our blessed Saviour, to do to all men as they would be done by; and before they attempted any injury against their neighbour, to ask themselves, how should I like to be thus treated by another?
Lamb being also reminded to warn his brother soldiers against the vices and crimes too common amongst them, excused himself because he could not speak to them, but desired it might be done in his name; on which it was mentioned to the soldiers, of whom many surrounded the place, "that he had often lamented his being early drawn away into the vices of drunkenness, lewdness and the like, by the soldiers who were harden'd in such practices, and could not endure to see any young fellow escape them. They were warn'd to avoid such snares, and strive to escape by a timely repentance."
Having once more returned to servent prayer, and earnestly recommended their souls to almighty God; we took an affectionate farewell: poor Norman said, "dear sir, God almighty bless you for what you have done for us, I hope to see you again in heaven;" and may the blessing of these that were ready to perish, light on all those likewise who assisted in saving their souls. Amen.
The following introductory discourse to the anatomical lectures at Surgeons hall, on the body of the beforementioned Richard Lamb, executed for murder, was read by Mr. Tate, surgeon, in Feather stone buildings, Halborn, one of the masters of anatomy for the present year, on Thursday October 4.
PREVIOUS to my entering on the anatomical part of these lectures, I think it will not be improper, to take some notice of the cause, which has occasioned this present meeting.
That cause was MURDER:
A crime which a few years past was grown so frequent, that as neither the laws of God nor man, were found sufficient to put a stop to the outrageous passions of malice and revenge, our legislature, therefore, were in hopes, that by inflicting additional punishments before, and even after the death of the malefactor, they might strike a greater terror into the minds of mankind, and thereby at least lessen the number of murders.
To attain this end, a speedy execution was ordered after sentence should pass, and till that sentence was executed, the victim of justice should be deprived of every sensual enjoyment, by nothing being allowed for subsistance but bread and water. And it being well known, in how great horror dissection was held by almost all mankind, more especially the lower class, as the most harden'd villains, tho' they braved death, still shuddered at the thoughts of being made an Otomy (as they call it) they very wisely ordained, that every such malefactor, (not hung in chains) should be delivered to the surgeons for dissection. How far their intention (in general) has succeeded, I cannot take upon me to say, but thus far I think it promises success, as I can aver this is but the second subject executed for murder, committed in this large and populous city and county, for upwards of two years.
Curiosity more than improvement, has, I am persuaded, drawn the greater part of this audience together: and tho' such as come from mere curiosity, will reap little benefit from the view of the dissected subject, yet that their time may not wholly be thrown away, I would wish them to consider the crime which has occasioned their present assembling in this place: that crime, which death is not looked on as an atonement for, but that every one hereafter guilty of it, may expect to be exposed on that table. Happy would it be, if this publick occasion, this fight of death, may prove a monitor to every individual here, and by them be repeated to their acquaintance (especially those who are prone to wrath) always to have in their eye
this table, whenever they find themselves urged by the passions of malice and revenge. Had the poor wretch who now lies there, in that little interval of a few minutes (which made the difference betwixt murder and manslaughter) thought on this table, he had not returned to the attack and slain the man, whom he justly before defended himself against. Let therefore the Anatomical Table in the Surgeons Theatre, be a preacher to all this audience: and should their passions run high, and the voice of reason and religion be forgotten, may this dread table present itself to their view, and restrain the arm, raised to deprive a fellow creature of life, and not that only, but raised to destroy themselves: seeing murder scarce ever escapes its due reward, an ignominious death, and afterwards to be prepared and exhibited again, a publick spectacle, as the present subject now appears.
The following was read on Saturday before the last lecture.
AS these lectures were not intended solely for the anatomical benefit which might arise from the dissection of the executed criminal, it cannot be thought improper to take a second notice of the other part of the intention of the government, which ought no to pass unheeded. This was to strike a greater terror into the minds of men, not by inhuman tortures on the living subject, as in other countries, but by denying the murderer the privilege of having his bones rest peaceably in the ground, as a common malefactor: but that after he had given a lesson to all who attended, and saw his shameful death, he might still serve to shew them the consequence of giving way to every unruly passion, or to any other motive that might lead them to rob a fellow creature of life. I think few who now look upon that miserable, mangled object before us, can ever forget it. It is for this purpose our doors are opened to the publick, that all may see the exemplary punishment of a murderer, and that it may be impressed on their minds, and be a warning to others to avoid his fate. May those, therefore, who are now present, and see the remains of that unhappy wretch, whose dissected body cries out, Beware of Murder! repeat it to their acquaintance, and tell those who see it not, what must be their destiny, what must be the consequence, of letting their passions deprive them of their reason, and induce them to take away the life of another.