Chapter VII: Epilogue (3)

"Mary, Mary, where are you _now_, Mary? I live, when at home, at the second house in Little diddy-ball-street, two steps under ground, with a wiscum, riscum, and a why-not. Walk in, ladies and gentlemen; my shop is on the second-floor backwards, with a brass knocker on the door, and steel steps before it. Here is your nice gingerbread, it will melt in your mouth like a red-hot brickbat, and rumble in your inside like Punch and his wheelbarrow." He always finished his address by singing this fag end of some popular ballad:--

"Ti-tid-ty, ti-tid-ty. Ti-tid-ty--tiddy-loll.
Ti-tid-ty, ti-tid-ty. Ti-tid-ty--tiddy-doll."

Hence arose his nickname "_Tiddy-Doll_." In Hogarth's print of the "IDLE 'PRENTICE EXECUTED AT TYBURN," Tiddy-Doll is seen holding up a gingerbread cake with his left hand, his right hand within his coat, to imply that he is speaking the truth from his heart, while describing the superiority of his wares over those of any other vendor in the fair! while he still anxiously inquires:--

"Mary, Mary, where are you _now_, Mary?"

His proper name was Ford, and so well known was he that, on his once being missed for a week from his usual stand in the Haymarket, on the occasion of a visit which he paid to a country fair, a "Catch penny" account of his alleged murder was printed, and sold in the streets by thousands.

Allusions to Tiddy-Doll, and sayings derived from him, have reached to our own time, thus, we still say to an over-dressed person--"You are as tawdry as Diddy-doll," "You are quite Tiddy-doll, you look as fine as Tiddy-doll," he or she is said to be "All Tiddy-doll," &c.

The class of men formerly well known to the citizens of London as News-criers, or Hornmen, must now be spoken of in the past sense, as the further use of the horn was prohibited long ago by the magistracy, subject to a penalty of ten shillings for the first offence, and twenty shillings on the conviction of repeating so heinous a crime.

"GREAT NEWS, BLOODY BATTLE, GREAT VICTORY!
EXTRAORDINARY GAZETTE!
SECOND EDITION!"

were the usual loud bellowing of fellows with stentorian lungs, accompanied by a loud blast of a long tin-horn, which announced to the delighted populace of London the martial achievements of a Marlborough, Howe, Hood, Nelson, or Wellington. A copy of the "Gazette" or newspaper they "cried" was usually affixed under the hatband, in front, and their demand was generally one shilling.

At least one of these news criers has been immortalized. In a volume of "Miscellaneous Poems," edited by Elijah Fenton, and printed by Bernard Lintot, without date, but anterior to 1720, there are the lines that follow, to one old Bennet, who seems to have made a great noise in the world of London during the early part of last century:--

"ON THE DEATH OF OLD BENNET, THE NEWS CRYER

"One evening, when the sun was just gone down,
And I was walking thro' the noisy town,
A sudden silence through each street was spread,
As if the soul of London had been fled.
Much I enquired the cause, but could not hear,
Till fame, so frightened, that she did not dare
To raise her voice, thus whisper'd in my ear:--
Bennet, the prince of hawkers, is no more,
Bennet, my _Herald_ on the British shore,
Bennet, by whom, I own myself outdone,
Tho' I a hundred mouths, he had but one,
He, when the list'ning town he would amuse,
Made _Echo_ tremble with his '_Bloody news!_'
No more shall _Echo_, now his voice return,
_Echo_ for ever must in silence mourn,--
Lament, ye heroes, who frequent the wars,
The great proclaimer of your dreadful scars.
Thus wept the conqueror who the world o'ercame,
Homer was waiting to enlarge his fame,
Homer, the first of hawkers that is known,
_Great News_ from Troy, cried up and down the town,
None like him has there been for ages past,
Till our stentorian Bennet came at last,
Homer and Bennet were in this agreed,
Homer was blind, and Bennet could not read!"

In our own days there has been legislation for the benefit of tender ears; and there are now penalties, with police constables to enforce them, against "All persons blowing any horn or using any other noisy instrument, for the purpose of calling persons together, or of announcing any show or entertainment, or for the purpose of hawking, selling, distributing, or collecting any article, or of obtaining money or alms." These are the words of the Police Act of 1839; and they are stringent enough to have nearly banished from our streets all those uncommon noises which did something to relieve the monotony of the one endless roar of the tread of feet and the rush of wheels.

Mr. Henry Mayhew, in his admirable work of "London Labour and London Poor," writing in 1851, under the head "Of the Sellers of Second Editions," says:--

"I believe that there is not now in existence--unless it be in a
workhouse and unknown to his fellows, or engaged in some other
avocation, and lost sight of by them--any one who sold 'Second
Editions' of the _Courier_ evening paper at the time of the Duke of
York's Walcheren expedition, at the period of the battle of the Nile,
during the continuance of the Peninsular war, or even at the battle of
Waterloo. There were a few old men--some of whom had been soldiers or
sailors, and others who have simulated it--surviving within these five
or six years and some later, who 'worked Waterloo,' but they were
swept off, I was told, by the cholera."

"Temper the foot within this vase of oil,
And let the little tripod aid thy toil;
On this methinks I see the walking crew,
At thy request, support the miry shoe;
The foot grows black that was with dirt embrown'd,
And in thy pocket jingling halfpence sound."
_Gay's "Trivia."_]

"About thirty years before the cry of 'Clean your boots, sir!' became familiar to the ears of the present generation of Londoners," Mr. Charles Knight informs us that:--"In one of the many courts on the north side of Fleet-street, might be seen, somewhere about the year 1820, 'The last of the London shoe-blacks.' One would think that he deemed himself dedicated to his profession by Nature, for he was a Negro. At the earliest dawn he crept forth from his neighbouring lodging, and planted his tripod on the quiet pavement, where he patiently stood till noon was past. He was a short, large-headed son of Africa, subject, as it would appear, to considerable variations of spirits, alternating between depression and excitement, as the gains of the day presented to him the chance of having a few pence to recreate himself beyond what he should carry home to his wife and children. For he had a wife and children, this last representative of a falling trade; and two or three little woolly-headed _decrotteurs_ nestled around him when he was idle, or assisted in taking off the roughest of the dirt when he had more than one client. He watched, with a melancholy eye, the gradual improvement of the streets; for during some twenty or thirty years he had beheld all the world combining to ruin him. He saw the foot pavements widening; the large flag-stones carefully laid down; the loose and broken piece, which discharged a slushy shower on the unwary foot, and known to him and London chairmen as a '_Beau-trap_'[11] instantly removed: he saw the kennels diligently cleansed, and the drains widened: he saw experiment upon experiment made in the repair of the carriage-way, and the holes, which were to him as the 'old familiar faces' which he loved, filled up with a haste that appeared quite unnecessary, if not insulting. One solitary country shopkeeper, who had come to London once a year during a long life, clung to our sable friend; for he was the only one of the fraternity that he could find remaining, in his walk from Charing-cross to Cheapside."

Hone, in "_The Table Book_," 1827, under an article on the Old London cries has:--"A Shoeblack; A boy, with a small basket beside him, brushes a shoe on a stone, and addresses himself to a wigged beau, who carries his cocked hat under his left arm, with a crooked-headed walking stick in his left hand, as was the fashion among the dandies of old times. I recollect shoeblacks formerly at the corner of almost every street, especially in great thoroughfares. There were several every morning on the steps of St. Andrew's church, Holborn, till late in the forenoon. But the greatest exhibition of these artists was on the site of Finsbury-square, when it was an open field, and a depository for the stones used in paving and street-masonry. There, a whole army of shoeblacks intercepted the citizens and their clerks on their way from Islington and Hoxton to the counting-houses and shops in the city, with 'Shoeblack, your honour! Black your shoes, sir!'"

Each of them had a large, old tin-kettle, containing his apparatus, viz:--a capacious pipkin, or other large earthen-pot, containing the blacking, which was made of ivory-black, the coarsest moist sugar, and pure water with a little vinegar--a knife, two or three brushes, and an old wig. The old wig was an indispensable requisite to a shoeblack; it whisked away the dust, or thoroughly wiped off the wet dirt, which his knife and brushes could not entirely detach; a rag tied to the end of a stick smeared his viscid blacking on the shoe, and if the blacking was "real japan," it shone. The old experienced shoe-wearers preferred an oleaginous, lustreless blacking. A more liquid blacking, which took a polish from the brush, was of later use and invention. Nobody at that time wore boots except on horseback; and everybody wore breeches and stockings: pantaloons, or trousers, were unheard of. The old shoeblacks operated on the shoes while they were on the feet, and so dexterously as not to soil the fine white cotton stocking, which was at that time the extreme of fashion, or to smear the buckles, which were universally worn. Latterly, you were accommodated with an old pair of shoes to stand in, and the yesterday's paper to read, while your shoes were cleaning and polishing, and your buckles were whitened and brushed. When shoestrings first came into vogue, the Prince of Wales (Geo. IV.) appeared with them in his shoes, when immediately a deputation from the buckle-makers of Birmingham presented a petition to his Royal Highness to resume the wearing of buckles, which was good-naturedly complied with. Yet, in a short time, shoestrings entirely superseded buckles. The first incursion on the shoeblacks was by the makers of "Patent Cake Blacking" on sticks formed with a handle, like a small battledoor; they suffered a more fearful invasion from the makers of liquid blacking in bottles. Soon afterwards, when "Day and Martin" manufactured the _ne plus ultra_ of blacking, private shoeblacking became general, public shoeblacks rapidly disappeared, and in [1827] they became extinct. The last shoeblack that I remember in London sat under the covered entrance of Red Lion-court, Fleet-street within the last six years. This unfortunate, "The Last of the London Shoeblacks"--was probably the "short, large headed son of Africa" alluded to by Charles Knight, under the heading of "Clean your honour's shoes," in his "History of London."

In 1851, some gentlemen connected with the Ragged Schools determined to revive the brotherhood of boot cleaners for the convenience of the foreign visitors to the Exhibition, and commenced the experiment by sending out five boys in the now well-known red uniform. The scheme succeeded beyond expection; the boys were patronized by natives as well as aliens, and the Shoeblack Society and its brigade were regularly organized. During the exhibition season, about twenty-five boys were constantly employed, and cleaned no less than 100,000 pairs of boots. The receipts of the brigade during its first year amounted to L656. Since that time, thanks to the combination of discipline and liberality, the Shoeblack Society has gone on and prospered, and proved the Parent of other Societies. Every district in London now has its corps of shoeblacks, in every variety of uniform, and while the number of boys has increased from tens to hundreds, their earnings have increased from hundreds to thousands. Numbers of London waifs and strays have been rescued from idleness and crime. The Ragged School Union, and Shoeblack Brigades, therefore hold a prominent place among the indirectly preventive agencies for the suppression of crime: for since ignorance is generally the parent of vice, any means of securing the benefits of education to those who are hopelessly deprived of it, must operate in favour of the well-being of society.

"'Tis education forms the common mind;
Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined."]

"Hearth-stones! Do you want any hearth-stones? Now, my maids, here's your right sort--reg'lar good'uns, and no mistake--vorth two o'your shop harticles, and at half the price. Now my pretty von, lay out a _tanner_, and charge your missus a _bob_--and no cheating neither! the cook has always a right to make her market penny and to assist a poor cove like me in the bargain.

"They're good uns, you vill find--
Choose any, marm, as you prefer.
You look so handsome and so kind,
I'm sure you'll be a customer.
Three halfpence, marm, for this here pair--
I only vish as you vould try 'em;
I'm sure you'll say the price is fair--
Come marm, a penny if you'll buy 'em."

"Here's tidings sad, for owld and young,
Of von who liv'd for years by macing;
And vos this werry morning hung,
The Debtor's Door at Newgate facing.

"Here's his confession upon hoath,
The vords he spoke ven he vos dying,
His birth and eddycation both--
The whole pertic'lers--vell vorth the buying.

"Here's an account of robberies sad.
In vich he alus vos a hactor;
You must to read the life be glad--
Of such a famous malefactor!

"How to the mob he spinn'd a yarn,
And varn'd them from a course unproper,
You may, vith all his history, larn--
For the small valley of a copper!"

"Now my kind-hearted, haffectionated and wery ready-money Christian-hearted, pious and hinfidel customers, here you have the last speech and dying vords, life, character, and behaviour of the hunfortunate malefactor that vas hexecuted this morning hopposit the Debtor's door in the Hold Bailey! together with a full confession of the hoffence vherevith he vos found guilty before a hupright Judge and a wery himpartial Jury! Here you have likewise a copy of a most affecting letter, written by the criminal in the condemned cell the night afore hexecution to his hinnocent vife and hunoffending babbies, vith a copy of werses consarning the same--all for the small charge of von halfpenny. Yes, my friends, von halfpenny buys the werses as follows--von arter the 'tother:--

"Come, all you blessed Christians dear,
That's a-tender, kind, and free,
While I a story do relate
Of a dreadful tragedy,
Which happened in London town,
As you shall all be told;
But when you hear the horrid deed
'Twill make your blood run cold.--
_For the small charge of a ha'penny!_

"'Twas in the merry month of May,
When my true love I did meet;
She look'd all like an angel bright,
So beautiful and sweet.
I told her I loved her much,
And she could not say nay;
'Twas then I stung her tender heart,
And led her all astray.--
_Only a ha'penny!_"

JAMES--or as he was popularly called, "_Jemmy_," or, "_Old Jemmy_" Catnach, (_Kat-nak_,) late of the Seven Dials, London, printer and publisher of ballads, battledores, lotteries, primers, &c., and whose name is ever associated with the literature of the streets, was the son of John Catnach, a printer, of Alnwick, an ancient borough, market town, and parish of Northumberland, where he was born on August 18th, 1792.

At the time Jemmy Catnach commenced business in Seven Dials it took all the prudence and tact which he could command to maintain his position, as at that time "Johnny" Pitts,[12] of the Toy and Marble Warehouse, No. 6, Great St. Andrew-street, was the acknowledged and established printer of street literature for the "Dials" district; therefore, as may be easily imagined, a powerful rivalry and vindictive jealousy soon arose between these "two of a trade"--most especially on the part of "Old Mother" Pitts, who is described as being a coarse and vulgar-minded personage, and as having originally followed the trade of a bumboat woman at Portsmouth: she "wowed wengeance" against the young fellow in the court for daring to set up in their business, and also spoke of him as a young "Catsnatch," "Catblock," "Cut-throat;" many other opprobrious terms being also freely given to the new comer. Pitts' staff of "bards" were duly cautioned of the consequences which would inevitably follow should they dare to write a line for Catnach--the new _cove_ in the court. The injunction was for a time obeyed, but the "Seven Bards of the Seven Dials" soon found it not only convenient, but also more profitable to sell copies of their effusions to both sides at the same time, and by keeping their council they avoided detection, as each printer accused the other of buying an early sold copy, and then reprinting it off with the utmost speed, and which was in reality often the case, as "Both Houses" had emissaries on the constant look-out for any new production suitable for street-sale. Now, although this style of "double dealing" and competition tended much to lessen the cost price to the "middle-man," or vendor, the public in this case did not get any of the reduction, as a penny broadside was still a penny, and a quarter-sheet still a halfpenny to them, the "street-patterer" obtaining the whole of the reduction as extra profit.

The feud existing between these rival publishers, who have been somewhat aptly designated as the Colburn and Bentley of the "paper" trade, never abated, but, on the contrary, increased in acrimony of temper until at last not being content to vilify each other by words alone, they resorted to printing off virulent lampoons, in which Catnach never failed to let the world know that "Old Mother Pitts" had been formerly a bumboat woman, while the Pitts' party announced that--

"All the boys and girls around,
Who go out prigging rags and phials,
Know Jemmy _Catsnatch_!!! well,
Who lives in a back slum in the Dials.
He hangs out in Monmouth Court,
And wears a pair of blue-black breeches,
Where all the 'Polly Cox's crew' do resort
To chop their swag for badly printed Dying Speeches."

A mournful and affecting COPY OF VERSES on the death of
ANN WILLIAMS,
Who was barbarously and cruelly murdered by her sweetheart,
W. JONES, near Wirksworth, in Derbyshire, July, 1823.

William Jones, a young man aged 20, has been fully committed to Derby
gaol for the murder of his sweetheart, under circumstances of unheard
of barbarity. The poor victim was a servant girl, whom under pretense
of marriage he seduced. On her proving with child the villain formed
the horrid design of murdering her, and carried his diabolical plan
into execution on Monday evening last. The following verses are
written upon the occasion, giving a complete detail of this shocking
affair:--

Come all false hearted young men
And listen to my song,
'Tis of a cruel murder,
That lately has been done
On the body of a maiden fair
The truth I will unfold,
The bare relation of this deed
Will make your blood run cold.
Near Wirksworth town in Derbyshire,
Ann Williams she did dwell,
In service she long time had lived,
Till this to her befel.
Her cheeks were like the blushing rose
All in the month of May,
Which made this wicked young man
Thus unto her did say:
Nancy, my charming creature,
You have my heart ensnared,
My love is such I am resolved
To wed you I declare.
Thus by his false deluding tongue
Poor Nancy was beguil'd,
And soon to her misfortune,
By him she proved with child.
Some days ago this damsel fair
Did write to him with speed.
Such tenderness she did express
Would make a heart to bleed.
She said, my dearest William,
I am with child by thee;
Therefore, my dear, pray let me know
When you will marry me.
The following day at evening,
This young man did repair,
Unto the town of Wirksworth,
To meet his Nancy there.
Saying, Nancy dear, come let us walk,
Among the flowery fields,
And then the secrets of my heart
To you I will reveal.
O then this wicked young man
A knife he did provide,
And all unknown to his true love
Concealed it by his side.
When to the fatal spot they came,
These words to her did say:
All on this very night I will
Your precious life betray.
On bended knee she then did fall,
In sorrow and despair,
Aloud for mercy she did call,
Her cries did rend the air;
With clasped hands and uplift eyes
She cried, Oh spare my life,
I never more will ask you
To make me your wedded wife.
O then this wicked young man said,
No mercy will I show;
He took the knife all from his side,
And pierced her body through.
But still she smiling said to him,
While trembling with fear,
Aae! William, William, spare my life,
Think on your baby dear.
Twice more then with the bloody knife
He ran her body through,
Her throat was cut from ear to ear,
Most dreadful for to view;
Her hands and arms and beauteous face
He cut and mangled sore,
While down upon her milk white breast
The crimson blood did pour.
He took the shawl from off her neck,
And round her body tied,
With pebble stones he did it fill,
Thinking the crime to hide.
O then into the silver stream
He plunged her straightway,
But with her precious blood was stained,
Which soon did him betray.
O then this young man taken was,
And into prison sent,
In ratling chains he is confin'd
His crime for to lament,
Until the Asizes do come on
When trembling he must stand,
Reflecting on the deed he's done;
Waiting the dread command.
Now all you thoughtless young men
A timely warning take;
Likewise ye fair young maidens,
For this poor damsel's sake.
And Oh beware of flattering tongues,
For they'll your ruin prove;
So may you crown your future day,
In comfort, joy, and love.

Printed at J. Pitts, Wholesale Toy and Marble Warehouse, 6, Great St.
Andrew Street, Seven Dials.

There can be little doubt that Catnach, the great publisher of the Seven Dials, next to children's books, had his mind mostly centred upon the chronicling of doubtful scandals, fabulous duels between ladies of fashion, "cooked" assassinations, and sudden deaths of eminent individuals, apochryphal elopements, real or catch-penny accounts of murders, impossible robberies, delusive suicides, dark deeds and public executions, to which was usually attached the all-important and necessary "Sorrowful Lamentations," or "Copy of Affectionate Verses," which, according to the established custom, the criminal composed in the condemned cell the night before his execution, after this manner:--

"All you that have got feeling hearts, I pray you now attend
To these few lines so sad and true, a solemn silence lend;
It is of a cruel murder, to you I will unfold----
The bare recital of the tale must make your blood run cold."

Or take another and stereotyped example, which from time to time has served equally well for the verses _written by_ the culprit--Brown, Jones, Robinson, or Smith:

"Those deeds I mournfully repent,
But now it is too late,
The day is past, the die is cast,
And fixed is my fate.

Occasionally the Last Sorrowful Lamentations contained a "Love Letter"--the criminal being unable, in some instances, to read or write, being no obstacle to the composition--written according to the street patterer's statement: "from the depths of the condemned cell, with the condemned pen, ink, and paper." This mode of procedure in "gallows" literature, and this style of composition having prevailed for from sixty to seventy years.

Then they would say: "Here you have also an exact likeness of the murderer, taken at the bar of the Old Bailey by an eminent artist!" when all the time it was an old woodcut that had been used for every criminal for many years.

"There's nothing beats a stunning good murder after all," said a "running patterer" to Mr. Henry Mayhew, the author of "London Labour and London Poor." It is only fair to assume that Mr. James Catnach shared in the sentiment, for it is said that he made over L500 by the publication of:--

"The Full, True and Particular Account of the Murder of Mr. Weare by John Thurtell and his Companions, which took place on the 24th of October, 1823, in Gill's Hill-lane, near Elstree, in Hertfordshire:--Only One Penny." There were eight formes set up, for old Jemmy had no notion of stereotyping in those days, and pressmen had to re-cover their own sheep-skins. But by working night and day for a week they managed to get off about 250,000 copies with the four presses, each working two formes at a time.

As the trial progressed, and the case became more fully developed, the public mind became almost insatiable. Every night and morning large bundles were despatched to the principal towns in the three kingdoms.

One of the many street-ballads on the subject informed the British public that:--

"Thurtell, Hunt, and Probert, too, for trial must now prepare,
For that horrid murder of Mr. William Weare."

In connection with the murder of Mr. Weare by Thurtell and Co., Sir Walter Scott, collected the printed trials with great assiduity, and took care always to have to hand the contemporary ballads and prints bound up with them. He admired particularly this verse of Theodore Hook's[13] broadside:--

"They cut his throat from ear to ear,
His brains they battered in;
His name was Mr. William Weare,
He dwelt in Lyon's Inn."

THE CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OF JOHN THURTELL
AT HERTFORD GAOL, On Friday, the 9th of January, 1824.

THE EXECUTION.

_Hertford, half-past twelve o'clock._

This morning, at ten minutes before twelve, a bustle among the
javelin-men stationed within the boarded enclosure on which the drop
was erected, announced to the multitude without that the preparations
for the execution were nearly concluded. The javelin-men proceeded to
arrange themselves in the order usually observed upon these melancholy
but necessary occurrences. They had scarcely finished their
arrangements, when the opening of the gate of the prison gave an
additional impulse to public anxiety.

When the clock was on the stroke of twelve, Mr Nicholson, the
Under-Sheriff, and the executioner ascended the platform, followed on
to it by Thurtell, who mounted the stairs with a slow but steady step.
The principal turnkey of the gaol came next, and was followed by Mr
Wilson and two officers. On the approach of the prisoner being
intimated by those persons who, being in an elevated situation,
obtained the first view of him, all the immense multitude present took
off their hats.

Thurtell immediately placed himself under the fatal beam, and at that
moment the chimes of a neighbouring clock began to strike twelve. The
executioner then came forward with the rope, which he threw across it.
Thurtell first lifted his eyes up to the drop, gazed at it for a few
moments, and then took a calm but hurried survey of the multitude
around him. He next fixed his eyes on a young gentleman in the crowd,
whom he had frequently seen as a spectator at the commencement of the
proceedings against him. Seeing that the individual was affected by
the circumstance, he removed them to another quarter, and in so doing
recognised an individual well known in the sporting circles, to whom
he made a slight bow.

The prisoner was attired in a dark brown great coat, with a black
velvet collar, white corduroy breeches, drab gaiters and shoes. His
hands were confined with handcuffs, instead of being tied with cord,
as is usually the case on such occasions, and, at his own request, his
arms were not pinioned. He wore a pair of black kid gloves, and the
wrists of his shirt were visible below the cuffs of his coat. As on
the last day of his trial, he wore a white cravat. The irons, which
were very heavy, and consisted of a succession of chain links, were
still on his legs, and were held up in the middle by a Belcher
handkerchief tied round his waist.

The executioner commenced his mournful duties by taking from the
unhappy prisoner his cravat and collar. To obviate all difficulty in
this stage of the proceedings, Thurtell flung back his head and neck,
and so gave the executioner an opportunity of immediately divesting
him of that part of his dress. After tying the rope round Thurtell's
neck, the executioner drew a white cotton cap over his countenance,
which did not, however, conceal the contour of his face, or deprive
him entirely of the view of surrounding objects.

At that moment the clock sounded the last stroke of twelve. During the
whole of this appalling ceremony, there was not the slightest symptom
of emotion discernible in his features; his demeanour was perfectly
calm and tranquil, and he behaved like a man acquainted with the
dreadful ordeal he was about to pass, but not unprepared to meet it.
Though his fortitude was thus conspicuous, it was evident from his
appearance that in the interval between his conviction and his
execution he must have suffered much. He looked careworn; his
countenance had assumed a cadaverous hue, and there was a haggardness
and lankness about his cheeks and mouth, which could not fail to
attract the notice of every spectator.

The executioner next proceeded to adjust the noose by which Thurtell
was to be attached to the scaffold. After he had fastened it in such a
manner as to satisfy his own mind, Thurtell looked up at it, and
examined it with great attention. He then desired the executioner to
let him have fall enough. The rope at this moment seemed as if it
would only give a fall of two or three feet. The executioner assured
him that the fall was quite sufficient. The principal turnkey then
went up to Thurtell, shook hands with him, and turned away in tears.
Mr Wilson, the governor of the gaol, next approached him. Thurtell
said to him, "Do you think, Mr Wilson, I have got enough fall?" Mr
Wilson replied, "I think you have, Sir. Yes, quite enough." Mr Wilson
then took hold of his hand, shook it, and said, "Good bye, Mr
Thurtell, may God Almighty bless you." Thurtell instantly replied,
"God bless _you_, Mr Wilson, God bless _you_." Mr Wilson next asked
him whether he considered that the laws of his country had been dealt
to him justly and fairly, upon which he said, "I admit that justice
has been done me--I am perfectly satisfied."

A few seconds then elapsed, during which every person seemed to be
engaged in examining narrowly Thurtell's deportment. His features, as
well as they could be discerned, appeared to remain unmoved, and his
hands, which were extremely prominent, continued perfectly steady, and
were not affected by the slightest tremulous motion.

Exactly at two minutes past twelve the Under-Sheriff, with his wand,
gave the dreadful signal--the drop suddenly and silently fell--and

JOHN THURTELL WAS LAUNCHED INTO ETERNITY.

Printed at J. Pitts, Wholesale Toy and Marble Warehouse, 6, Great St.
Andrew Street, Seven Dials.

ATROCIOUS MURDER OF A YOUNG WOMAN IN SUFFOLK.
SINGULAR DISCOVERY OF THE BODY FROM A DREAM.

Four years after the Thurtell and Weare affair, namely, in the month of April, 1828, another "sensational" murder was discovered--that of Maria Marten, by William Corder, in the Red Barn, at Polstead, in the county of Suffolk. The circumstances that led to the discovery of this most atrocious murder were of an extraordinary and romantic nature, and manifest an almost special interposition of Providence in marking out the offender. As the mother of the girl had on three several nights dreamt that her daughter was murdered and buried in Corder's Red Barn, and as this proved to be the case, an additional "charm" was given to the circumstance. Hence the "Catnach Press" was again set working both day and night to meet the great demand for the "Full Particulars." In due course came the gratifying announcement of the apprehension of the murderer! and the sale continued unabatingly, in both town and country, every "Flying Stationer" making great profits by the sale.

The trial of Corder took place at Bury St. Edmonds, on the 7th of August, 1828, before the Lord Chief Baron (Anderson). The prisoner pleaded "_Not Guilty_," and the trial proceeded. On being called on for his defence, Corder read a manuscript paper. He declared that he deeply deplored the death of the unfortunate deceased, and he urged the jury to dismiss from their minds all that prejudice which must necessarily have been excited against him by the public press, &c. Having concluded his address, the Lord Chief Baron summed up, and a verdict of "_Guilty_" was returned. The Last Dying Speech and confession had an enormous sale--estimated at 1,166,000, a _fac-simile_ copy of which, with the "Lamentable Verses," said to have been written by Old Jemmy Catnach, will be found on the opposite page.

CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OF WILLIAM CORDER,
THE MURDERER OF MARIA MARTEN.

Since the tragical affair between Thurtell and Weare, no event has
occurred connected with the criminal annals of our country which has
excited so much interest as the trial of Corder, who was justly
convicted of the murder of Maria Marten on Friday last.

THE CONFESSION.

"Bury Gaol, August 10th, 1828.--Condemned cell.
"Sunday evening, half-past Eleven.

"I acknowledge being guilty of the death of poor Maria Marten, by
shooting her with a pistol. The particulars are as follows:--When we
left her father's house, we began quarrelling about the burial of the
child: she apprehended the place wherein it was deposited would be
found out. The quarrel continued about three quarters of an hour upon
this sad and about other subjects. A scuffle ensued, and during the
scuffle, and at the time I think that she had hold of me, I took the
pistol from the side pocket of my velveteen jacket and fired. She
fell, and died in an instant. I never saw her even struggle. I was
overwhelmed with agitation and dismay:--the body fell near the front
doors on the floor of the barn. A vast quantity of blood issued from
the wound, and ran on to the floor and through the crevices. Having
determined to bury the body in the barn (about two hours after she was
dead). I went and borrowed a spade of Mrs Stow, but before I went
there I dragged the body from the barn into the chaff-house, and
locked the barn. I returned again to the barn, and began to dig a
hole, but the spade being a bad one, and the earth firm and hard, I
was obliged to go home for a pickaxe and a better spade, with which I
dug the hole, and then buried the body. I think I dragged the body by
the handkerchief that was tied round her neck. It was dark when I
finished covering up the body. I went the next day, and washed the
blood from off the barn-floor. I declare to Almighty God I had no
sharp instrument about me, and no other wound but the one made by the
pistol was inflicted by me. I have been guilty of great idleness, and
at times led a dissolute life, but I hope through the mercy of God to
be forgiven. WILLIAM CORDER."

Witness to the signing by the said William Corder,

JOHN ORRIDGE.

Condemned cell, Eleven o'clock, Monday morning,
August 11th, 1828.

The above confession was read over carefully to the prisoner in our
presence, who stated most solemnly it was true, and that he had
nothing to add to or retract from it.--W. STOCKING, chaplain; TIMOTHY
R. HOLMES, Under-Sheriff.

THE EXECUTION.

At ten minutes before twelve o'clock the prisoner was brought from his
cell and pinioned by the hangman, who was brought from London for the
purpose. He appeared resigned, but was so weak as to be unable to
stand without support; when his cravat was removed he groaned heavily,
and appeared to be labouring under great mental agony. When his wrists
and arms were made fast, he was led round twards the scaffold, and as
he paused the different yards in which the prisoners were confined, he
shook hands with them, and speaking to two of them by name, he said,
"Good bye, God bless you." They appeared considerably affected by the
wretched appearance which he made, and "God bless you!" "May God
receive your soul!" were frequently uttered as he passed along. The
chaplain walked before the prisoner, reading the usual Burial Service,
and the Governor and Officers walking immediately after him. The
prisoner was supported to the steps which led to the scaffold; he
looked somewhat wildly around, and a constable was obliged to support
him while the hangman was adjusting the fatal cord. There was a
barrier to keep off the crowd, amounting to upwards of 7,000 persons,
who at the time had stationed themselves in the adjoining fields, on
the hedges, the tops of houses, and at every point from which a view
of the execution could be best obtained. The prisoner, a few moments
before the drop fell, groaned heavily, and would have fallen, had not
a second constable caught hold of him. Everything having been made
ready, the signal was given, the fatal drop fell, and the unfortunate
man was launched into eternity. Just before he was turned off, he said
in a feeble tone, "I am justly sentenced, and may God forgive me."

The Murder of Maria Marten.

BY W. CORDER

Come all you thoughtless young men, a warning take by me,
And think upon my unhappy fate to be hanged upon a tree;
My name is William Corder, to you I do declare,
I courted Maria Marten, most beautiful and fair.

I promised I would marry her upon a certain day.
Instead of that, I was resolved to take her life away.
I went into her father's house the 18th day of May,
Saying, my dear Maria, we will fix the wedding day.

If you will meet me at the Red-barn, as sure as I have life,
I will take you to Ipswich town, and there make you my wife;
I then went home and fetched my gun, my pickaxe and my spade,
I went into the Red-barn, and there I dug her grave.

With heart so light, she thought no harm, to meet him she did go
He murdered her all in the barn, and laid her body low;
After the horrible deed was done, she lay weltering in her gore,
Her bleeding mangled body he buried beneath the Red-barn floor.

Now all things being silent, her spirit could not rest,
She appeared unto her mother, who suckled her at her breast,
For many a long month or more, her mind being sore oppress'd,
Neither night or day she could not take any rest.

Her mother's mind being so disturbed, she dreamt three nights o'er,
Her daughter she lay murdered beneath the Red-barn floor;
She sent the father to the barn, when he the ground did thrust,
And there he found his daughter mingling with the dust.

My trial is hard, I could not stand, most woeful was the sight,
When her jaw-bone was brought to prove, which pierced my heart quite;
Her aged father standing by, likewise his loving wife,
And in her grief her hair she tore, she scarcely could keep life.

Adieu, adieu, my loving friends, my glass is almost run,
On Monday next will be my last, when I am to be hang'd,
So you, young men, who do pass by, with pity look on me,
For murdering Maria Marten, I was hang'd upon the tree.

Printed by J. Catnach, 2 and 3, Monmouth Court.--Cards, &c., Printed
Cheap.

LIFE, TRIAL, CONFESSION, & EXECUTION OF
JAMES GREENACRE,
FOR THE EDGEWARE ROAD MURDER.

On the 22nd of April, James Greenacre was found guilty of the wilful
murder of Hannah Brown, and Sarah Gale with being accessary after the
fact. A long and connected chain of evidence was produced, which
showed, that the sack in which the body was found was the property of
Mr. Ward; that is was usually deposited in a part of the premises
which led to the workshop, and could without observation have been
carried away by him; that the said sack contained several fragments of
shavings of mahogany, such as were made in the course of business by
Ward; and that it contained some pieces of linen cloth, which had been
patched with nankeen; that this linen cloth matched exactly with a
frock which was found on Greenacre's premises, and which belonged to
the female prisoner. Feltham, a police-officer, deposed, that on the
26th of March he apprehended the prisoners at the lodgings of
Greenacre; that on searching the trowsers pockets of that person, he
took therefrom a pawnbroker's duplicate for two silk gowns, and from
the fingers of the female prisoner two rings, and also a similar
duplicate for two veils, and an old-fashioned silver watch, which she
was endeavouring to conceal; and it was further proved that these
articles were pledged by the prisoners, and that they had been the
property of the deceased woman.--Two surgeons were examined, whose
evidence was most important, and whose depositions were of the
greatest consequence in throwing a clear light on the manner in which
the female, Hannah Brown, met with her death. Mr. Birtwhistle deposed,
that he had carefully examined the head; that the right eye had been
knocked out by a blow inflicted while the person was living; there was
also a cut on the cheek, and the jaw was fractured, these two last
wounds were, in his opinion, produced after death; there was also a
bruise on the head, which had occurred after death; the head had been
separated by cutting, and the bone sawed nearly _through_, and then
broken off; there were the marks of a saw, which fitted with a saw
which was found in Greenacre's box. Mr. Girdwood, a surgeon, very
minutely and skilfully described the appearances presented on the
head, and showed incontestibly, that the head had been severed from
the body _while the person was yet alive_; that this was proved by the
retraction, or drawing back, of the muscles at the parts where they
were separated by the knife, and further, by the blood-vessels being
empty, the body was drained of blood. This part of the evidence
produced a thrill of horror throughout the court, but Greenacre
remained quite unmoved.

After a most impressive and impartial summing up by the learned Judge,
the jury retired, and, after the absence of a quarter of an hour,
returned into court, and pronounced a verdict of "Guilty" against both
the prisoners.

The prisoners heard the verdict without evincing the least emotion, or
the slightest change of countenance. After an awful silence of a few
minutes, the Lord Chief Justice said they might retire, as they would
be remanded until the end of the session.

They were then conducted from the bar, and on going down the steps,
the unfortunate female prisoner kissed Greenacre with every mark of
tenderness and affection.

The crowd outside the court on this day was even greater than on
either of the preceding; and when the result of the trial was made
known in the street, a sudden and general shout succeeded, and
continued huzzas were heard for several minutes.

THE EXECUTION.

At half past seven the sheriff arrived in his carriage, and in a short
time the press-yard was thronged with gentlemen who had been admitted
by tickets. The unhappy convict was now led from his cell. When he
arrived in the press-yard, his whole appearance pourtrayed the utmost
misery and spirit-broken dejection; his countenance haggard, and his
whole frame agitated; all that self-possession and fortitude which he
displayed in the early part of his imprisonment, had utterly forsaken
him, and had left him a victim of hopelessness and despair. He
requested the executioner to give him as little pain as possible in
the process of pinioning his arms and wrists; he uttered not a word in
allusion to his crime; neither did he make any dying request, except
that his spectacles might be given to Sarah Gale; he exhibited no sign
of hope; he showed no symptom of reconciliation with his offended God!
When the venerable ordinary preceded him in the solemn procession
through the vaulted passage to the fatal drop, he was so overcome and
unmanned, that he could not support himself without the aid of the
assistant executioner. At the moment he ascended the faithless floor,
from which he was to be launched into eternity, the most terrific
yells, groans, and cheers were vociferated by the immense multitude
surrounding the place of execution. Greenacre bowed to the sheriff,
and begged he might not be allowed to remain long in the concourse;
and almost immediately the fatal bolt was withdrawn, and, without a
struggle, he became a lifeless corse.--Thus ended the days of
Greenacre, a man endowed with more than ordinary talents, respectably
connected, and desirably placed in society; but a want of probity, an
absolute dearth of principle, led him on from one crime to another,
until at length he perpetrated the sanguinary deed which brought his
career to an awful and disgraceful period, and which has enrolled his
name among the most notorious of those who have expiated their crime
on the gallows.

On hearing the death-bell toll, Gale became dreadfully agitated; and
when she heard the brutal shouts of the crowd of spectators, she
fainted, and remained in a state of alternate mental agony and
insensibility throughout the whole day.

After having been suspended the usual time, his body was cut down, and
buried in a hole dug in one of the passages of the prison, near the
spot where Thistlewood and his associates were deposited.

J. Catnach, Printer, 2 and 3, Monmouth Court.

The following is a fac-simile of the "Execution Paper," from the press of Paul and Co.,--successors of Catnach.

TRIAL, SENTENCE, CONFESSION, & EXECUTION OF
F. B. COURVOISIER,
FOR THE Murder of Lord Wm. Russell.

THE VERDICT.

Old Bailey, Saturday Evening,
_June 20th, 1840_.

After the jury had been absent for an hour and twenty minutes, they
returned into court, and the prisoner was again placed at the bar.

The names of the jury were then called over, and the clerk of the
court said--"How say you, gentlemen, have you agreed on your verdict?
Do you find the prisoner Guilty or Not Guilty of the felony of murder
with which he stands charged?"

The foreman of the jury, in a low voice, said--"We find him GUILTY!"

The Clerk of the Court then said: Francois Benjamin Courvoisier, you
have been found Guilty of the wilful murder of William Russell, Esq.,
commonly called Lord William Russell; what have you to say why the
court should not give you sentence to die according to law?

The prisoner made no reply. The usual proclamation for silence was
then made.

SENTENCE.

The LORD CHIEF JUSTICE TINDAL, having put on the black cap, said:
Francois Benjamin Courvoisier, you have been found guilty by an
intelligent, patient, and impartial jury of the crime of wilful
murder. That crime has been established against you, not indeed by the
testimony of eye-witnesses as to the fact, but by a chain of
circumstances no less unerring, which have left no doubt of your guilt
in the minds of the jury, and all those who heard the trial. It is
ordained by divine authority that the murderer shall not escape
justice, and this ordination has been exemplified in your case, in the
course of this trial, by the disclosure of evidence which has brought
the facts to bear against you in a conclusive manner. The murder,
although committed in the dark and silent hour of night, has
nevertheless been brought clearly to light by Divine interposition.
The precise motive which induced you to commit this guilty act can
only be known to your own conscience; but it now only remains for me
to recommend you most earnestly to employ the short time you have to
live in prayer and repentance, and in endeavouring to make your peace
with that Almighty Being whose law you have broken, and before whom
you must shortly appear. The Learned Judge then passed sentence on the
prisoner in the usual form.

The court was very much crowded to the last.

THE CONFESSION OF THE CONVICT.

After the Learned Judge had passed sentence on the convict, he was
removed from the bar, and immediately made a full confession of his
guilt.

THE EXECUTION.

At eight o'clock this morning, Courvoisier ascended the steps leading
to the gallows, and advanced, without looking round him, to the centre
of the platform, followed by the executioner and the ordinary of the
prison, the Rev. Mr Carver. On his appearance a few yells of
execration escaped from a portion of the crowd, but the general body
of the people, great as must have been their abhorrence of his
atrocious crime, remained silent spectators of the scene which was
passing before their eyes. The prisoner's manner was marked by an
extraordinary appearance of firmness. His step was steady and
collected, and his movements free from the slightest agitation or
indecision. His countenance indeed was pale, and bore the trace of
much dejection, but it was at the same time calm and unmoved. While
the executioner was placing him on the drop he slightly moved his
hands (which were tied in front of him, and strongly clasped one
within the other) up and down two or three times, and this was the
only visible symptom of any emotion or mental anguish which the
wretched man endured. His face was then covered with the cap, fitting
so closely as not to conceal the outlines of his countenance, the
noose was then adjusted. During this operation he lifted up his head
and raised his hands to his breast, as if in the action of fervent
prayer. In a moment the fatal bolt was withdrawn, the drop fell, and
in this attitude the murderer perished. He died without any violent
struggle. In two minutes after he had fallen his legs were twice
slightly convulsed, but no further motion was observable, excepting
that his raised arms, gradually losing their vitality, sank down from
their own lifeless weight.

After hanging one hour, the body was cut down and removed within the
prison.

AFFECTING COPY OF VERSES.

Attention give, both old and young,
Of high and low degree,
Think while this mournful tale is sung,
Of my sad misery.
I've slain a master good and kind,
To me has been a friend,
For which I must my life resign,
My time is near an end.

Oh hark! what means that dreadful sound?
It sinks deep in my soul;
It is the bell that sounds my knell,
How solemn is the toll.
See thousands are assembled
Around the fatal place,
To gaze on my approaching,
And witness my disgrace.

There many sympathising hearts,
Who feel another's woe,
Even now appears in sorrow,
For my sad overthrow.
Think of the aged man I slew,
Then pity's at an end,
I robb'd him of property and life,
And the poor man of a friend.

Let pilfering passions not intrude,
For to lead you astray,
From step to step it will delude,
And bring you to dismay.
Think of the wretched Courvoisier,
Who thus dies on a tree,
A death of shame, I've nought to blame,
But my own dishonesty.

Mercy on earth I'll not implore,
To crave it would be vain,
My hands are dyed with human gore,
None can wash off the stain.
But the merits of a Saviour,
Whose mercy alone I crave;
Good Christians pray, as thus I die,
I may his pardon have.

Paul & Co., Printers, 2, 3, Monmouth Court, Seven Dials.

But the gallows was not always a fruit-bearing tree, and a "stunning good murder" did not happen every day. Nevertheless the street patterer must live, and lest the increase of public virtue should condemn him to starvation, the "Seven Dials Press," stepped forward to his aid, and considerately supplied him with a species of street-literature well known to the trade as "Cocks," and which are defined in "Hotton's Slang Dictionary" thus:--

COCKS, fictitious narratives, in verse or prose, of murders, fires and
terrible accidents, sold in the streets as true accounts. The man who
hawks them, a patterer, often changes the scene of the awful event to
suit the taste of the neighbourhood he is trying to delude. Possibly a
corruption of _cook_--a cooked statement, or may be "the story of a
cock and bull" may have had something to do with the term.
Improvements in newspapers, especially in those published in the
evening, and increased scepticism on the part of the public have
destroyed this branch of a once-flourishing business.