Chapter XVII: Part III (11)

Lads and lasses, blithe and gay,
From town and country far away,
The young and old will come, they say,
To see the grand review, sir
There is Polly Pluck and Ginger Blue,
For fun they are always right on,
Such shaking hands and how-do-you-do
With the volunteers from London.

Such sights before has never been,
Drinking healths in wine and gin,
And the pretty girls a winking then
At the volunteers of England.

There is special trains from every part,
Old and young with joyful hearts,
With coaches, gigs, and donkey carts,
Will drive to the review, sir.
The pretty girls will dress so fine,
With their frizzly hair all down behind,
With a hat and feathers cut a shine
When at the grand review, sir.

The Cockney lads are fond of fun,
When on the downs are strolling,
And down the hill in the afternoon
The lasses will be rolling.
Blow the trumpet, beat the drum,
Away with melancholy,
Shoulder arms and fire the guns,
Let every one be jolly.

One young lady of sixty-two,
With high-heeled boots and buckles, too,
And with a crutch she had to go
To see the grand review, sir,
She on the hill was pushed about
By some great ugly fellow,
Her crutch soon broke and she fell down,
And she lost her umbrella.

There’ll be Ikey Bill from Petticoat Lane
His sherbet will be selling,
And gipsies come from far and near
Your fortune to be telling.
The gents that on the stools will stand,
And in your faces smiling,
Hear’s three half-crowns and a purse, my lads,
And the lot is but a shilling.

All sorts of games will be that day,
To please both old and young, sir;
If the volunteers should want a rest,
The girls will hold his gun, sir.
For good-tempered girls there will be there,
No better in England found, sir,
For if you ask them there to sit,
They’re sure to tumble down, sir.

The flags so gay the bands will play,
And thousands will be mingling,
And welcome with a loud huzza
The volunteers of England.
May Queen Victoria happy be,
And all the royal family,
The Prince of Wales, cheer three times three
And the Princess Alexandra.
Now merry Punch with voice so strong,
He is all for fun and chaffing,
If you listen to his song
You’ll burst your sides with laughing.

THE FROLICSOME PARSON OUTWITTED.

Come all you hearty roving blades, and listen to my song,
A verse or two I will unfold, and will not keep you long,
It is of a frolicsome parson, as you shall quickly hear,
That dwelt in the town of Ledbury, in the county of Herefordshire.

The parson being a rakish blade, and fond of sporting games,
He fell in love with the pretty cook, as I have heard the same;
The parlour-maid found out the same, and in the fruit room looked,
And there she saw the parson sporting with the cook.

It was in nine months after she brought him forth a child,
Within the rectory it was born, it drove him nearly wild:
It proved to be a male child, at least they tell us so,
Then this damsel from the rectory was quickly forced to go.

Then the secret to unfold, it was her full intent,
During the time of service into the church she went,
Holding the child up in her arms, and on the parson gazed,
Saying, lovely babe, that is your dad, which filled him with amaze.

The congregation they all stared, the parson seemed confused,
And many a lad and lass no doubt, within them felt amused;
Such a scene as this was never known within this church before,
Let us hope that it will be the last, and the like shall be no more.

’Twas then a court was called in town, for to invest the case.
There the parson, cook, and parlour-maid they met face to face,
And many more in court appeared, to hear the sport and fun,
This damsel swore the parson was the father of her son.

Your reverence; you are found to blame the Justices declared,
Although some honest country lad you thought for to ensnare;
So with all your doctrine and your skill unto him they did say,
A half-a-crown each week to the child you’ve got to pay.

His reverence felt dissatisfied with such a glorious treat,
To a higher court he did proceed, and there was quickly beat,
So this damsel she’s victorious, the truth I now declare,
And his reverence is suspended for the period of five years.

Come all you blooming servant maids a warning take by this,
When in service with the parsons don’t be treated to a kiss;
Or it may cause much jealousy, as you may all well know,
Then you from service must be gone your sorrows for to rue.

Now to conclude and make an end and finish up my song,
All you young men that’s deep in love, be sure don’t stay too long;
Join hand in hand in wedlock’s band without the least delay,
Before the fairest of all girls is by parsons led astray.

THE FUNNY HE-SHE LADIES!

We have had female sailors not a few,
And Mary Walker the female barman, too,
But I never heard such a sport, did you,
As these swells tog’d out as ladies.
They are well known round Regent Square.
And Paddington I do declare,
Round Bruton street, and Berkeley Square,
Round Tulse Hill, and the lord knows where.

At my opinion I pray don’t gig,
I’ll speak my mind so please the pigs,
If they are nothing else, they might be prigs
This pair of he-she ladies.

At Wakefield street, near Regent Square,
There lived this rummy he-she pair,
And such a stock of togs was there,
To suit those he-she ladies.
There was bonnets & shawls, & pork pie hats
Chignons and paints, and Jenny Lind caps,
False calves and drawers, to come out slap,
To tog them out, it is a fact.

This pair of ducks could caper and prance,
At the Casino they could dance,
Ogle the swells, and parle vou France,
Could this pair of he-she ladies
They’d sip their wine and take their ice,
And so complete was their disguise,
They would suck old nick in and no flys,
Would these beautiful he-she ladies.

One day a cute detective chap,
Who of their game had smelt a rat,
Declared he would get on the track,
Of these two he-she ladies.
So he bolted up to Regent Square,
And soon espied this worthy pair,
They hailed a cab, who took his fare,
Says the police, I am after you my dear.

They bolted off at such a rate, sir,
And in they went to the Strand Theatre,
But the game was up, so help my tater,
Of this pair of he-she ladies.
You would not suppose that they were men,
With their large Chignons and Grecian bend,
With dresses of silk, and flaxen hair,
And such a duck was Stella dear.

When they were seated in the stalls,
With their low neck’d dresses a flowing shawl
They were admired by one and all,
This pair of he-she ladies.
The gents at them would take a peep,
And say they are duchesses at least,
Lor! what a fascinating pair,
Especially she with the curly hair.

The detective, Chamberlain by name.
Upon these two sham ladies came,
And said what is your little game,
My beautiful he-she ladies.
Oh, was it not a cruel sell,
That night they must remember well,
When they had to pig in Bow Street cell,
What a change for them he-she ladies.

When first before the magistrate,
Oh, what a crowd did them await,
It was a lark and no mistake,
To look at them he-she ladies.
Lor! how the people did go on,
With, I say I’ll have your fine chignon,
Another cried out, Stella dear,
Pull off those togs, and breeches wear.

Now I think behind there is a tale,
Which will make this bright pair to bewail,
For on skilly and whack they might regale,
Those beautiful he-she ladies.

H. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles.

THE “GALLOWS” LITERATURE OF THE STREETS.

“The gallows does well: but how does it do well? It does well to those that do ill.”

DIVISION IV.

THE “GALLOWS” LITERATURE OF THE STREETS.

PUBLIC EXECUTIONS, DYING SPEECHES. CONFESSIONS, AND COPY OF VERSES.

“There’s nothing beats a stunning good murder after all.”--EXPERIENCE OF A RUNNING PATTERER.

Of accounts of Public Executions, Dying Speeches, and Confessions we have those before us, stretching from the Execution of Sir John Oldcastle in 1417, to the Trial and Execution of F. Hinson, who suffered the extreme penalty of the law, at the Old Bailey, Monday, December 13th, 1869, for the wilful murder of Maria Death, to which is attached the all-important and necessary “Copy of Verses,” and by way of supplement, we add a _verbatim_ copy of the Full, True and Particular Account of the Execution of J. Rutterford, at Bury St. Edmunds, for the murder of J. Hight, with copy of “Death-verses.” But the convict was NOT hanged after all. As the gaol surgeon having reported that Rutterford had a malformation which might cause an unusual degree of suffering on death being inflicted by strangulation, whereupon the Secretary of State for the Home Department ordered a special examination to be made by some medical men of the immediate neighbourhood, and on whose report the sentence of death previously recorded was commuted to transportation for life!

All the modern examples of THE “GALLOWS” LITERATURE OF THE STREETS come not only from different printers and publishers, but from distant towns,--London, Birmingham, Lincoln, and Preston, but they have all the same stamp. And the whole of the last dying speeches and confessions, trials, sentences from what ever part of the country they come, run in the same form of quaint and circumstantial detail, appeals to heaven, to young men, to young women, to christians in general, and moral reflections. The narrative, embracing trial, biography, &c., is usually prepared by the printer, being a condensation from the accounts in the newspapers. It is then necessary to add the “copy of verses.” Many of these are clearly by the same hand, probably one of the five or six well-known authors, who also chaunt their own verses in the streets. And with regard to this matter--“Time being the essence of the contract,”--it must also be noted that many of the most popular “Death-verses” being composed on the spur of the moment for the purpose of being sung while all the town is ringing with the event, all niceties of rhyme, metre, and orthography have to be utterly disregarded. “I gets,” says one of the fraternity, “I gets a shilling a copy for the verses _written by the wretched culprit_ the night previous to his execution.” “And I,” says another, “did the helegy on Rush. I didn’t write it to horder; I knew that they would want a copy of verses from the wretched culprit. And when the publisher read it; ‘that’s the thing for the streets,’ he says. But I only got a shilling for it.” “It’s the same poet as does ’em all,” says a third authority, “and the same tip: _no more nor a bob for nothing_.” This was paltry pay under any circumstances, but still more so when we find that in the case of the chief modern murders these “Execution Ballads” commanded a most enormous sale, thus:

Of Rush’s murder 2,500,000 copies
Of the Mannings 2,500,000 ”
Of Courvoisier 1,666,000 ”
Of Greenacre 1,650,000 ”
Of Corder (Maria Martin) 1,166,000 ”
Of the Five Pirates (Flowery Land) 290,000 ”
Of Müller 280,000 ”
Of Constance Kent (trial only) 150,000 ”
Of Jeffery (1866) 60,000 ”
Of Forward (Ramsgate) 30,000 ”

So that the printers and publishers of “Gallows” Literature in general, and “The Seven Dials Press” in particular, must have reaped a golden harvest for many a long day, even when sold to the street-folks at the low rate of 3d. per _long_ dozen. Mr. W. S. Fortey, the successor of the late celebrated Jemmy Catnach, stated to us during a recent conversation with him on the sale number of modern dying speeches. “Well, _I_ never in _my_ time printed so many as _I_ did of the Five Pirates of the Flowery Land, and _I_ sold them at the rate of 3,000 copies per hour, and did altogether 90,000,--that was my share. What the others did of course I can’t say. I know I got a new machine out of the job!--which we now call the “Pirates,” or sometimes “The Flowery Land.”[1] Mr. Fortey furthermore informed us that his share of the “Execution Papers” of recent popular murders was as follows:--Müller, 84,000; Constant Kent, 15,000; Jeffery, 10,000; Forward, 5,000. Mr. Fortey’s trade announcement runs thus:--“The Catnach Press.” (Established 1813.) William S. Fortey, (late A. Ryle), successor to the late J. Catnach, Printer, Publisher, and Wholesale Stationer, 2 and 3, Monmouth Court, Seven Dials, London, W.C. The cheapest and greatest variety in the trade of large coloured penny books; halfpenny coloured books; farthing books; penny and halfpenny panoramas; school books; penny and halfpenny song books; memorandum books; poetry cards; lotteries; ballads (4,000 sorts) and hymns; valentines; scripture sheets; Christmas pieces; Twelfth-night characters; carols; book and sheet almanacks; envelopes, note paper, &c., &c. W. S. Fortey begs to inform his friends and the public generally, that after 19 years’ service, he has succeeded to the business of his late employers (A. Ryle and Co.), and intends carrying on the same, trusting that his long experience will be a recommendation, and that no exertion shall be wanting on his part to merit a continuance of those favours that have been so liberally bestowed on that establishment during the last 46 years.

As far as can be ascertained, the sale of Broad-sheets in the Mannings and Rush’s case far exceed that of any now before us. Even that of Müller did not amount to more than two hundred and eighty thousand copies--though no modern murder ever surpassed it in atrocity, or in the profound interest which it excited throughout England. And this difference is no doubt to be explained by the fact that since Mannings and Rush’s day the daily penny newspapers have almost forestalled the “Dying Speeches and confessions”--with or without the “copy of verses”--by giving a full account of the different enormities in all their minute and hideous details. The force of public opinion, too, thus exerted through the Press, has been brought to bear on the question of crime, and much of the morbid sympathy which found expression in the case of such a monster as Rush, had died away in 1864, when detectives tracked Müller across the Atlantic, and brought him back to be hanged by an English hangman, in the presence of an English mob. To every one of the murderers, Constance Kent at Road hill house, Jeffery, Forward, at Ramsgate, and the Pirates of the “Flowery Land,”--one and all alike,--stern justice is meted out with inflexible severity. The wretched girl who at Salisbury confessed her crime to the judge, makes no excuse for her guilt, but tells only of the intolerable remorse that would give her no rest--

“My infant brother so haunted me,
I not one moment could happy be;
And if for the murder they do me try,
I declare I’m guilty, and deserve to die.”

“Scoundrels,” “malefactors,” “villains,” are the gentlest names for this Newgate gallery, and the gallows in every case is promised, with a sort of grim satisfaction that augurs strongly for a deep popular belief in the justice of those solemn words, “Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.”

With the recent Act of Parliament abolishing the execution of criminals in sight of the public. Halfpenny and penny newspapers, and the capriciousness of Home Secretaries, the Dying Speech trade has in its turn received its death-blow. Still old memories and customs yet cling to the “Affectionate Copy of Verses.”--“The (cooked) Love Letters” and “Confessions”--made only by the Street-Patterer, and are found sufficiently remunerative to author, printer, publisher, and vendor--But for THIS DAY ONLY!

The following is the style of “gag” and “patter” of a man formerly well-known in the “Dials” as “Tragedy Bill”--“Now, my friends, here you have, just printed and published, a full, true, and pertickler account of the life, trial, character, confession, behaviour, condemnation, and hexecution of that unfortunate malefactor, Richard Wilbyforce, who was hexecuted on Monday last, for the small charge of one ha’penny, and for the most horrible, dreadful, and wicked murder of Samuel--I means Sarah Spriggens, a lady’s maid, young, tender, and handsome. You have here every pertickler, of that which he did, and that which he didn’t. It’s the most foul and horrible murder that ever graced the annals of British history(?) Here, my customers, you may read his hexecution on the fatal scaffold. You may also read how he met his victim in a dark and lonesome wood, and what he did to her--for the small charge of a ha’penny; and, further, you read how he brought her to London,--after that comes the murder, which is worth all the money. And you read how the ghost appeared to him and then to her parents. Then comes the capture of the _willain_; also the trial, sentence, and hexecution, showing how the ghost was in the act of pulling his leg on one side, and the ‘old gentleman’ a pulling on the other, waiting for his victim (my good friends excuse my tears!) But as Shakspeare says, ‘Murder most foul and unnatural,’ but you’ll find this more foul and unnatural than that or the t’other--for the small charge of a ha’penny! Yes, my customers, to which is added a copy of serene and beautiful werses, pious and immoral, as wot he wrote with his own blood and skewer the night after--I mean the night before his hexecution, addressed to young men and women of all sexes--I beg pardon, but, I mean classes (my friends its nothing to laugh at), for I can tell you the werses is made three of the hard-heartedest things cry as never was--to wit, that is to say namely--a overseer, a broker, and a policeman. Yes, my friends, I sold twenty thousand copies of them this here morning, and could of sold twenty thousand more than that if I could of but kept from crying--only a ha’penny!--but I’ll read the werses.

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 strung her tender heart,
And led her all astray.--
_Only a ha’penny!_

I brought her up to London town,
To make her my dear wife;
But an evil spirit tempted me,
And so I took her life!
I left the town all in the night,
When her ghost in burning fire,
Saying, “Richard,” I am still with you,
Whenever you retire.--
_Only a ha’penny!_

And justice follow’d every step,
Though often I did cry;
And the cruel Judge and Jury
Condemned me for to die.
And in a cell as cold as death,
I always was afraid,
For Sarah she was with me,
Although I killed her dead.--
_For the small charge of a ha’penny!_

My tender-hearted Christians,
Be warned by what I say,
And never prove unkind or false
To any sweet la’-dy.
Though some there, who wickedness
Oft leads ’em to go astray;
So pray attend to what you hear.
And a warning take I pray.

[1] “The Pope, God bless him! he’s been the best friend I’ve had since Rush. Then Cardinal Wiseman. They shod me, sir.” “_Who’s_ they!” “Why the Pope and Cardinal Wiseman. I call my clothes after them I earn money by to buy them with. My shoes I call Pope Pius; my trowsers” and braces, Calcraft; my waistcoat and shirt, Jael Denny; and my coat, Love Letters. A man must show a sense of gratitude in the best way he can.--EXPERIENCE OF A RUNNING PATTERER.--_Mayhew’s London Labour and the London Poor._

THE LIFE & EXECUTION OF SIR JOHN OLDCASTLE

AT THE NEW GALLOWS, AT _ST. GILES’S IN THE FIELDS_, ON THE 19th OF DECEMBER, 1417.

_Who was Hang’d as a Traytor, and Burnt as a Heretick._

At the beginning of the reign of Henry V., about the year 1413, the anger of the clergy was excited against the _Lollards_, and they fabricated a report of a pretended conspiracy among them, headed by Sir John Oldcastle, or, as he was called by courtesy, Lord Cobham, in his wife’s right.

Lord Cobham has the honour of being the first author and the first martyr among the nobility of England. He was a man of considerable natural abilities, proficient in literature, of a ready wit, and skilled in the affairs of the cabinet or in the field. In his love for philosophy, he had perused the writings of Wickliffe, and in so doing unconsciously absorbed the leaven of evangelical and spiritual religion. When persuaded of the truth of those doctrines he enrolled himself as a disciple, and did all in his power for their spread, both by his gifts and personal efforts. He transcribed the works of Wickliffe; he supported various preachers, and became the acknowledged leader of the rising reformation. The hostility of the church was, of course, an inevitable result.

Sir John being convicted of heresy, the Archbishop waited upon the King, and gave him an account of the proceedings against him, and moved his Majesty that the execution might be respited for 50 days, which was readily granted by the King, as well as the Archbishops, being desirous to preserve Sir John Oldcastle.

Sir John before the fifty days expired, made his escape out of the Tower, and endeavoured to secure himself by making an insurrection. To this purpose he wrote letters to his friends, to engage their Party, and make them ready for the Field, to surprise the King, and overturn the Government.

The King being apprised of the danger, on the 6th of January, 1414, removed from Eltham to his palace at Westminster, but without any appearance of alarm. The Rebels were just upon the execution of their design, being drawn together by Sir John Acton, Knight, John Brown, Esq., and John Beverly, a priest, in Ficket-field, on the backside of St. Giles’s; hither they came in the dead of night, expecting to join their General, Sir John Oldcastle.

The King came into the field before Day, where several of the Rebels, mistaking their party, fell in with the King’s forces; and it being demanded whither they were going, they answered, to my Lord Cobham. The King, to prevent their getting together, had ordered the City Gates to be shut and guarded, without which precaution ’tis thought the Londoners would have reinforced their party to a very formidable body, but being disappointed of this succour they soon dispersed, and several of them were killed or taken prisoners. And the King set a thousand Marks upon Sir John Oldcastle’s head, with a promise of great Privileges to any town that should deliver him up. An Indictment of High Treason was found against Sir John in the King’s Bench, for conspiring the Death of the King, the Subversion of the Established Religion and Government, and Levying War, whereupon he was outlawed.

Sir John Oldcastle was near being surprised in the neighbourhood of St. Alban’s, at a farmhouse belonging to the Abbot of that town, _anno_ 1417; for the Abbot being informed Sir John lay concealed at one of his Tenants, sent some of his servants, in the night, to beset the house, and though they missed of Sir John, they seized some of the principal men of his party. They found also several religious Books, adorned with paintings, which the _Lollards_ esteeming superstitious, cut off the Heads of the Figures, and also erased the Names of the Saints out of the litanies; they also found scandalous Papers in Dishonour of the blessed Virgin. These Books were sent over to the King into Normandy, and by him returned to the Archbishop.

Upon the occasion the _Lollards_ were loudly disclaimed against at St. Paul’s Cross, and a tragical Representation made of the Matter, and not long after Sir John Oldcastle was taken in Powis Lands in Wales. He stood upon his Defence, fought those that came to apprehend him, and refused to surrender his Person till he was wounded and disabled.

Sir John Oldcastle having been outlawed upon an Indictment for High Treason, for that he with divers others called _Lollards_, to the number of Twenty Thousand, had assembled themselves at _St. Giles’s in the Fields_, levyed War, and conspired the Death of the King and the Subversion of the Religion and Government established, and standing also excommunicated for Heresy, he was brought before the Parliament on the 18th of December, 1417, and it being demanded what he had to say why Execution should not be awarded against him according to Law, he ran out into a Discourse foreign to the matter, concerning the Mercy of God, &c., whereupon the Chief Justice required him to answer directly, if he had anything to object against the Legality of the Process; he replyed, _he could not own them for his judges, as long as his Sovereign Lord_ King Richard _was living in Scotland_. Upon this Answer a Rule was made for his Execution, _viz._, That he should be carried back to the Tower, and from thence drawn through London to the New Gallows at St. Giles’s in the Fields, and there be hanged, and burnt hanging, which Sentence was executed with Rigour. He was hanged as a Traytor, and burnt as a Heretick.

The DYING SPEECHES and EXECUTION of John Ballard, priest; Anthony Babington, Esq.; John Savage, Gent.; Robert Barnwell, Gent.; Chidiock Titchborne, Esq.; Charles Tilney and Edward Abington, Gent. (Seven of the Conspirators against Queen Elizabeth) for High Treason

On the 20th of September, 1586, a Gallows being set up on purpose in St. Giles’s Fields, where they us’d to meet, these seven were drawn thither to their Execution.

John Ballard, the Priest, the principal Conspirator, confess’d, that he was guilty of those things for which he was condemned, but protested they were never enterprised by him upon any hope of preferment, but only, as he said, for the advancement of true Religion. He craved pardon and forgiveness of all persons, to whom his doings had been any scandal, and so made an end; making his prayers to himself in Latin, not asking her Majesty forgiveness, otherwise than if he had offended.

Anthony Babington, Esq., also confessed, That he was come to die, as he had deserved; howbeit that he (as Ballard before) protested that he was not led into those actions upon hope of preferment, or for any temporal respect; nor had ever attempted them. For his wife, he said, she had good friends, to whose consideration he would leave her: And thus he finished, asking Her Majesty forgiveness, and making his prayers in Latin.

John Savage, Gent., confessed his guilt, and said (as the other two before) that he did attempt it, for that in conscience he thought it a deed meritorious, and a common good to the weal publick, and for no private preferment.

Robert Barnwell, Gent, confessed that he was made acquainted with their Drifts, but denied that ever he consented, or could be in conscience persuaded that it was a deed lawful. I crave forgiveness; if the sacrifice of my body might establish her Majesty in the true religion, I would most willingly offer it up. Then he prayed to himself in Latin.

Chidiock Titchbone, Esq., began to speak as followeth, _viz._, Countrymen and my dear Friends, you expect I should speak something; I am a bad Orator, and my text is worse: It were in vain to enter into the discourse of the whole matter for which I am brought hither, for that it hath been revealed heretofore, and is well known to the most of this company; let me be a warning to all young gentlemen, especially _generosis adolescentulis_. I had a friend, and a dear friend, of whom I made no small account, whose friendship hath brought me to this; he told me the whole matter, I cannot deny, as they had laid it down to be done; but I always thought it impious, and denied to be a dealer in it; but the regard of my friend caused me to be a man in whom the old proverb was verified; I was silent, and so consented. Before this thing chanced, we lived together in most flourishing estate; of whom went report in the Strand, Fleet street, and elsewhere about London, but of Babington and Titchbone? No threshold was of force to brave our entry. Thus we lived, and wanted nothing we could wish for; and God knows, what less in my head than matters of State? Now give me leave to declare the miseries I sustained after I was acquainted with the action, wherein I may justly compare my estate to that of Adam’s, who could not abstain one thing forbidden, to enjoy all other things the world could afford; the terror of conscience awaited me. After I consider’d the dangers whereinto I was fallen, I went to Sir John Peters, in Essex, and appointed my horses should meet me at London, intending to go down into the country. I came to London, and there heard that all was bewrayed; whereupon, like Adam, we fled into the woods to hide ourselves, and there were apprehended. My dear countrymen, my sorrows may be your joy, yet mix your smiles with tears, and pity my case. This done, he prayed first in Latin, and then in English, asking Her Majesty, and all the world, heartily, forgiveness, and that he hoped, stedfastly, now at this his last hour, his faith would not fail.

Charles Tilney said, I am a Catholick, and believe in Jesus Christ, and by his Passion I hope to be saved; and I confess I can do nothing without him, which opinion all Catholicks firmly hold. He prayed in Latin for himself, and after he prayed for Queen Elizabeth, that she might live long; and warned all young gentlemen, of what degree or calling soever, to take warning by him.

Edward Abington said, I come hither to die, holding all points firmly that the Catholick Church doth; and for the matters whereof I am condemned, I confess all, saving the death of Her Majesty, to the which I never consented. He feared, as he said, great bloodshed in England before it were long.

Ballard was first executed. He was cut down and bowell’d with great cruelty while he was alive. Babington beheld Ballard’s execution without being in the least daunted; whilst the rest turned away their faces, and fell to prayers upon their knees. Babington being taken down from the gallows alive too, and ready to be cut up, he cried aloud several times in Latin. _Parce mihi Domine Jesu_, spare or forgive me O Lord Jesus! Savage broke the rope, and fell down from the gallows, and was presently seized on by the Executioner, his privities cut off, and his bowels taken out while he was alive. Barnwell, Titchborne, Tilney, and Abington were executed with equal cruelty.

The DYING SPEECHES and EXECUTION of Thomas Salisbury, Henry Donn, Edward Jones, John Charnock, John Travers, Robert Gage, Jerome Bellamy, for High Treason, the 21st of September, 1586. Being drawn to the place of Execution.

Thomas Salisbury, Esq., since it hath pleased God to appoint this place for my end, I thank his infinite goodness for the same; I confess that I have deserved death, and that I have offended her Majesty, whom to forgive me I heartily beseech, with all others whom I have any way offended; I desire all true Catholicks to pray for me, and I desire them, as I beseech God they may, to endure with patience whatsoever shall be laid upon them, and never to enter into any action of violence for remedy. Thus done, he cried in English and Latin, Father, forgive me.

Henry Donn, Yeoman, said, Do the people expect I should say anything? I was acquainted, I confess, with their practices, but I never did intend to be a dealer in them: Babington oftentimes requested me to be one, and said, for that he loved me well, he would bestow me in one of the best actions; which should have been the delivery of the Queen of Scots, to which I could not for a long time agree; at length, by many urgent persuasions he won me, so as I told him I would do my best: And being asked, as he was ascending the ladder, whether he thought it lawful to kill her Majesty: He answered, No, no. No soul was more sorrowful than his, nor none more sinful; and prayed for her Majesty, wishing she might live in all happiness, and after this life, be eternized in everlasting bliss; and so he prayed in Latin and English.

Edward Jones said, I come hither to die, but how rightfully God knows; for thus stands my case: At Trinity Term last, Mr Salisbury made me acquainted with their purposes; and for that he knew me to be well horsed, he thought me as fit as any to attempt the delivery of the Queen of Scots, and requested me to be one; which I utterly denied, altogether misliking their practices, and persuading him, by what means I might, from it; and told him, this was the haughty and ambitious mind of Anthony Babington, which would be the destruction of himself and friends, whose company I wished him to refrain; and for that I would have him out of his company; I have divers times lent him money, and pawned my chain and jewels to buy him necessaries to go into the country, and so concluded with his prayers, first in Latin, and then in English, that the people might better understand what he prayed.

John Charnock and John Travers having their minds wholly fixt on prayer, recommended themselves to God and the Saints. Gage extolled the Queen’s great grace and bounty to his father, and detested his own perfidious ingratitude towards his Princess. And Jerome Bellamy, with confusion and deep silence, suffered last.

The Queen being informed of the severity used in the executions the day before, and detesting such cruelty, gave express orders that these should be used more favourably; and accordingly they were permitted to hang till they were quite dead before they were cut down and bowell’d.

THEIR CHARACTERS.

The Conspirators were most of them gentlemen of good families, whom nothing but the specious pretence of religion could probably have prevailed upon to turn affairs.

THE EXECUTION OF BALLARD, &c.

The history of the plot in which Ballard, Babbington, Tichbourne, and others, were engaged in 1586, is well known. The subsequent ballad, by the celebrated Thomas Deloney, (his initials T.D. being at the conclusion of it) was no doubt printed immediately after the execution of the “fourteen most wicked traitors,” on the 20th and 21st September. At the top of the broadside are woodcuts of fourteen heads, but they are not likenesses, but merely engravings which the printer happened to have in his possession, and which had been already used for Hill’s work on Physiognomy, and perhaps for other publications requiring illustrations.----[1]

_A proper new Ballad, breefely declaring the Death and Execution of 14 most wicked Traitors, who suffered death in Lincolnes Inne Fielde, neere London: the 20 and 21 of September, 1586._

TO THE TUNE OF “WEEP, WEEP.”

Rejoyce in hart, good people all,
Sing praise to God on hye,
Which hath preserved us by his power
From traitors tiranny;
Which now have had their due desarts,
In London lately seen;
And Ballard was the first that died,
For treason to our Queene.

O praise the Lord with hart and minde,
Sing praise with voices cleare;
Seth traitorous crue, have had their due
To quaile their partener’s cheere.

Next Babington, that caitife vilde,
Was hanged for his hier;
His carcasse likewise quartered,
And hart cast in the fier.
Was ever seen such wicked troopes
Of traytors in this land,
Against the pretious woord of truthe,
And their good Queene to stand?
Oh praise, &c.

But heer beholde the rage of Rome,
The fruits of Popish plants;
Beholde and see their wicked woorks,
Which all good meaning wants:
For Savage also did receave
Like death for his desert,
Which in that wicked enterprise
Should then have doon his part.
O praise, &c.

O cursed catifes, void of grace,
Will nothing serve your turne,
But to behold your cuntries wrack,
In malice while you burne?
And Barnwell thou, which went to view
Her grace in each degree,
And how her life might be dispatcht,
Thy death we all did see.
O praise, &c.

Confounding shame fall to their share,
And hellish torments sting,
That to the Lords annointed shall
Devise so vile a thing.
O Techburne, what bewitched thee
To have such hate in store,
Against our good and gratious Queene,
That thou must dye therefore?
O praise, &c.

What gaine for traitors can returne,
If they their wish did win?
Or what preferment should they get,
By this their trecherous sinne?
Though forraine power love treason well,
The traitors they dispise,
And they the first that should sustaine
The smart of their devise
O praise, &c.

What cause had Tilney, traitor stout,
Or Abbington likewise,
Against the Lords annointed thus
Such mischeef to devise?
But that the Devill inticed them
Such wicked woorks to render;
For which these seven did suffer death,
The twentith of September.
O praise, &c.

Seven more the next day following
Were drawen from the Tower,
Which were of their confederates
To dye that instant hower:
The first of them was Salsburie,
And next to him was Dun,
Who did complaine most earnestly
Of proud young Babington.
O praise, &c.

Both lords and knights of hye renowne
He ment for to displace,
And likewise all the towers and townes
And cities for to race;
So likewise Jones did much complaine
Of his detested pride,
And shewed how lewdly he did live
Before the time he died.
O praise, &c.

Then Charnock was the next in place
To taste of bitter death;
And praying unto holy saints,
He left his vitall breath.
And in like maner Travers then
Did suffer in that place,
And fearfully he left his life,
With crossing brest and face.
O praise, &c.

Then Gage was stripped in his shirt,
Who up the lather went,
And sought for to excuse him selfe
Of treasons falce intent.
And Bellamie the last of all
Did suffer death that daye;
Unto which end God bring all such
As wish our Queenes decay.
O praise, &c.

O faulce, and foule disloyall men,
What person would suppose
That clothes of velvet and of silke
Should hide such mortall foes?
Or who would think such hidden hate
In men so fair in sight,
But that the Devill can turne him selfe
Into an angell bright.
O praise, &c.

But soveraigne Queene, have thou no care,
For God, which knoweth all,
Will still maintaine thy royall state,
And give thy foes a fall.
And for thy Grace thy subjects all
Will make their praiers still,
That never traitor in this land
May have his wicked will.
O praise, &c.

Whose glorious daies in England heere
The mighty God maintaine,
That long unto thy subjects joye
Thy Grace may rule and raigne.
And, Lord, we pray, for Christes sake,
That all thy secret foes
May come to naught, which seeke thy life
And Englands lasting woes.
O praise the Lord with hart & minde, &c.

The names of 7 Traitors which were executed on Tuesday, being the xx of September, 1586.

John Ballard Preest.
Anthony Babington.
John Savage.
Robert Barnwell.
Chodicus Techburne.
Charles Tilney.
Edward Abbington.

The names of the other vii which were executed on the next day after.

Thomas Salsbury.
Henry Dun.
Edward Jhones.
John Travers.
John Charnock.
Robert Gage.
Harman Bellamy.

Finis. T.D.

[1] OLD BALLADS, Edited by J. Payne Collier, Esq., F.S.A.--_The Percy Society_.

Imprinted at London at the Long Shop adjoyning unto Saint Mildreds Churche in the Pultrie by Edward Allde.

THE EXECUTION OF LUKE HUTTON.

A tract by Luke Hutton, of which there were two editions, the first without date, and the last in 1638, is very well known, and an account of it may be found in the Bridgewater Catalogue, (privately printed for Lord Francis Egerton) p. 149. Hence it appears also that Hutton was the author of an earlier production, called his “Repentance.” He seems to have been a highwayman and house-breaker, who, being condemned and pardoned, dedicated an affected piece of contrition to Lord Chief Justice Popham; and on subsequent liberation, returned to his old courses, and was hanged at York in 1598. Whether what follows, or indeed anything that goes under his name, were really written by him is very questionable.[1]

=Luke Hutton’s Lamentation: which he wrote the day before his death, being condemned to be Hanged at Yorke this last Assises for his robberies and trespasses committed.=

TO THE TUNE OF “WANDERING AND WAVERING.”

I am a poore prisoner condemned to dye,
Ah woe is me, woe is me, for my great folly!
Fast fettred in yrons in place where I lie.
Be warned yong wantons, hemp passeth green holly.
My parents were of good degree,
By whom I would not counselled be.
Lord Jesu forgive me, with mercy releeve me,
Receive, O sweet Saviour, my spirit unto thee.

My name is Hutton, yea Luke of bad life,
Ah woe is me, woe is me, for my great folly!
Which on the high way did rob man and wife,
Be warned yong wantons, &c.
Inticed by many a gracelesse mate,
Whose counsel I repent too late.

Lord, &c.

Not twentie yeeres old, alas, was I,
Ah woe is me, woe is me, &c.,
When I begun this fellonie.
Be warned yong wantons, &c.
With me went still twelve yeomen tall,
Which I did my twelve Apostles call.

Lord, &c.

There was no squire nor barron bold,
Ah woe is me, woe is me, for my great folly!
That rode the way with silver or gold,
Be warned yong wantons, &c.
But I and my twelve Apostles gaie
Would lighten their load ere they went away.

Lord, &c.

This newes procured my kins-folkes griefe,
Ah woe is me, woe is me!
They hearing I was a famous theefe,
Be warned yong wantons.
They wept, they wailde, they wrong their hands,
That thus I should hazard life and lands.

Lord, &c.

They made me a jaylor a little before,
Ah woe, &c.
To keep in prison offenders store;
Be warned, &c.
But such a jaylor was never none,
I went and let them out everie one.

Lord, &c.

I wist their sorrow sore grieved me,
Ah, woe is me, &c.
Such proper men should hanged be,
Be warned yong, &c.
My office ther I did defie,
And ran away for company.

Lord, &c.

Three yeeres I lived upon the spoile,
Ah woe is me, &c.
Giving many a carle the foile,
Be warned yong, &c.
Yet never did I kil man nor wife,
Though lewdly long I led my life.

Lord, &c.

But all too bad my deedes hath been,
Ah woe is me, &c.
Offending my country and my good queene,
Be warned yong, &c.
All men in Yorke-shire talke of me;
A stronger theefe there could not be.

Lord, &c.

Upon S. Lukes day was I borne,
Ah woe, &c.
Whom want of grace hath made a scorne,
Be war, &c.
In honor of my birth day then,
I robd in a bravery nineteen men.

Lord, &c.

The country weary to beare this wronge,
Ah woe is me, &c.
With huse and cries pursude me long,
Be war, &c.
Though long I scapt, yet loe at last,
London, I was in Newgate cast.

Lord, &c.

There did I lye with a grieved minde,
Ah woe is me, &c.
Although the keeper was gentle and kinde,
Be warned yong, &c.
Yet was he not so kinde as I,
To let me be at libertie.

Lord, &c.

At last the shiriffe of Yorke-shire came,
Ah woe is me, &c.
And in a warrant he had my name.
Be warned yong, &c.
Said he at Yorke thou must be tride,
With me therefore hence must thou ride.

Lord, &c.

Like pangues of death his words did sound:
Ah woe is me, &c.
My hands and armes full fast he bound.
Be warned, &c.
Good sir, quoth I, I had rather stay,
I have no heart to ride that way.

Lord, &c.

When no entreaty might prevaile,
Ah woe is me, &c.
I calde for beere, for wine and ale;
Be warned, &c.
And when my heart was in wofull case,
I drunke to my friends with a smiling face.

Lord, &c.

With clubs and staves I was garded then;
Ah woe is me, &c.
I never before had such waiting men;
Be warned, &c.
If they had ridden before amaine,
Beshrew me if I had cald them againe.

Lord, &c.

And when into Yorke that I was come,
Ah, &c.
Each one on me did passe their doome;
Be war, &c.
And whilst you live this sentence note,
Evill men can never have good report.

Lord, &c.

Before the judges when I was brought,
Ah woe is me, &c.
Be sure I had a carefull thought,
Be, &c.
Nine score inditements and seaventeene
Against me there was read and seene.

Lord, &c.

And each of these was fellony found,
Ah woe is me, &c.
Which did my heart with sorrow wound,
Be, &c.
What should I heerein longer stay,
For this I was condemned that day.

Lord, &c.

My death each houre I do attend;
Ah woe is me.
In prayer and tears my time I spend:
Be, &c.
And all my loving friends this day
I do intreate for me to pray.

Lord, &c.

I have deserved long since to die:
Ah woe, &c.
A viler sinner livde not then I,
Be, &c.
On friends I hopte my life to save,
But I am fittest for my grave.

Lord, &c.

Adue my loving friends, each one:
Ah woe is me, woe is me, for my great folly!
Thinke on my words when I am gone.
Be warned yong wantons, &c.
When on the ladder you shall me view,
Thinke I am neerer heaven then you.

Lord, &c.

Finis. Hutton.

Printed at London for Thomas Millington. 1598.

[1] OLD BALLADS, Edited by J. Payne Collier, Esq., F.S.A.--_The Percy Society._

EXECUTION OF THE CONSPIRATORS.

On Thursday, the 30th of January, 1605, Sir Everard Digby, Robert Winter, John Grant, and Thomas Bates, were executed at the West End of St. Paul’s; and the next day, January 31, Thomas Winter, Ambrose Rookwood, Robert Keyes, and Guido Fawkes, were executed in the Old Palace Yard, over against the Parliament House, Westminster, Conspirators in the Powder Plot.

The prisoners, after their condemnation and judgment, being sent back to the Tower, remained there till the Thursday following, on which day four of them, viz., Sir Everard Digby, Robert Winter, John Grant, and Thomas Bates, were drawn upon sledges and hurdles to a scaffold erected at the western end of St. Paul’s churchyard. Great pains were taken in the city to render the spectacle of the execution as imposing as possible, Among other arrangements made in order to be prepared against any popular tumult, a precept issued from the Lord Mayor to the Alderman of each ward in the city, requiring him to “cause one able and sufficient person, with a halbard in his hand, to stand at the door of every several dwelling-house in the open street in the way that the traitors were to be drawn towards the place of execution; there to remain from seven in the morning until the return of the Sheriff.”

Now these four above-named being drawn to the scaffold, made on purpose for their execution, first went up Digby, a man of goodly personage, and a manly aspect; yet might a wary eye, in the change of his countenance, behold an inward fear of death, for his colour grew pale and his eye heavy; notwithstanding that he enforced himself to speak, as stoutly as he could. His speech was not long, and to little good purpose, only, that his belied conscience being but indeed a blinded conceit, had led him into this offence, which in respect of his religion, alias indeed idolatry, he held no offence, but, in respect of the law, he held an offence, for which he asked forgiveness of God, of the King, and the whole kingdom; and so, with vain and superstitious crossing of himself, betook him to his Latin prayers, mumbling to himself, refusing to have any prayers of any but of the Romish Catholics: went up the ladder, and with the help of the hangman, made an end of his wicked days in this world.

After him went Winter up the scaffold, where he used few words to any effect, without asking mercy of either God or the King for his offences; went up the ladder, and, making a few prayers to himself, staid not long for his execution.

After him went Grant, who abominably blinded with his horrible idolatry, though he confessed his offence to be heinous, yet would fain have excused it by his conscience for religion; a bloody religion, to make so bloody a conscience; but better that his blood, and all such as he was, should be shed by the justice of the law, than the blood of many thousands to have been shed by his villainy, without law or justice. Having used a few idle words to ill effect, he was, as his fellows before him, led to the halter; and so, after his crossing of himself, to the last part of his tragedy.

Last of them came Bates, who seemed sorry for his offence, and asked forgiveness of God and the King, and of the whole kingdom; prayed to God for the preservation of them all, and, as he said, only for his love to his master, drawn to forget his duty to God, his King, and country, and therefore was now drawn from the Tower to St. Paul’s churchyard, and there hanged and quartered for his treachery. Thus ended that day’s business.

The next day, being Friday, were drawn from the Tower to the old palace in Westminster, over against the Parliament House, Thomas Winter the younger brother, Ambrose Rookwood, Robert Keyes, and Guido Fawkes, the miner, justly called “the Devil of the Vault;” for had he not been a devil incarnate, he had never conceived so villainous a thought, nor been employed in so damnable an action. Winter first being brought to the scaffold made little speech, but seeming, after a sort, as it were, sorry for his offence, and yet crossing himself, as though those were words to put by the devil’s stoccadadoes, having already made a wound in his soul; of which he had not yet a full feeling, protesting to die a true Catholic, as he said; with a very pale and dead colour went up the ladder, and after a swing or two with a halter, to the quartering-block was drawn, and there quickly despatched.

Next him came Rookwood, who made a speech of some longer time, confessing his offence to God in seeking to shed blood, and asking therefore mercy of his Divine Majesty;--his offence to the King, of whose majesty he likewise humbly asked forgiveness, and his offence to the whole state, of whom in general he asked forgiveness; beseeching God to bless the King, the Queen, and all his royal progeny, and that they might long live to reign in peace and happiness over this kingdom. But last of all, to spoil all the pottage with one filthy weed, to mar this good prayer with an ill conclusion, he prayed God to make the King a Catholic, otherwise a Papist, which God for his mercy ever forbid; and so beseeching the King to be good to his wife and children, protesting to die in his idolatry, a Romish Catholic, he went up the ladder, and, hanging till he was almost dead, was drawn to the block, where he gave his last gasp.

After him came Keyes, who like a desperate villain, using little speech, with small or no show of repentance, went stoutly up the ladder, where, not staying the hangman’s turn, he turned himself off with such a leap, that with the swing he brake the halter, but, after his fall, was drawn to the block, and there was quickly divided into four parts.