Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

Immediately following these events came the Cato-street conspiracy. On the 24th of February the newspapers contained the startling intelligence that, on the previous evening, a party of eleven men, headed by Arthur Thistlewood, who was already known as a political agitator, had been apprehended at a stable in Cato-street, an obscure place in the locality of Grosvenor-square, on the charge of being the parties to a conspiracy to assassinate the greater part of the King's Ministers. The truth of the intelligence was soon confirmed by the proceedings which took place before the magisterial authorities; and in due course all the parties were put on their trial at the Old Bailey, on a charge of high treason, Arthur Thistlewood, the leader, being the first tried on the 17th of April; the Lord Chief Justice Abbott presiding. The names of the other prisoners were--William Davidson, a man of colour; James Ings, John Thomas Brunt, Richard Tidd, James William Wilson, John Harrison, Richard Bradburn, James Shaw Strange, and Charles Cooper, of whom the first four, together with Thistlewood, were executed as traitors on May 1st.

The Cato-street conspiracy proved a rich harvest to all concerned in the production of street literature. Catnach came in for a fair share of the work, and he found himself with plenty of cash in hand, and in good time to increase his trade-plant to meet the great demand for the street-papers that were in a few months to be published daily, and in reference to the ever-memorable trial of Queen Caroline; then it was that his business so enormously increased as at times to require three or four presses going night and day to keep pace with the great demand for papers, which contained a very much abridged account of the previous day's evidence, and taken without the least acknowledgment from an early procured copy of one of the daily newspapers.

Great as was the demand, the printers of street literature were equal to the occasion, and all were actively engaged in getting out "papers," squibs, lists of various trade deputations to the Queen's levées, lampoons and songs, that were almost hourly published, on the subject of the Queen's trial. The following is a selection from one which emanated from the "Catnach Press," and was supplied to us by John Morgan, the Seven Dials bard, and who added that he had the good luck--the times being prosperous--to screw out half-a-crown from Old Jemmy for the writing of it. "Ah! sir," he continued, "it was always a hard matter to get much out of Jemmy Catnach, I can tell you, sir. He was, at most times, a hard-fisted one, and no mistake about it. Yet, sir, somehow or another, he warn't such a bad sort, just where he took. A little bit rough and ready, like, you know, sir. But yet still a 'nipper.' That's just about the size of Jemmy Catnach, sir. I wish I could recollect more of the song, but you've got the marrow of it, sir:--

'And when the Queen arrived in town,
The people called her good, sirs;
She had a Brougham by her side,
A Denman, and a Wood, sirs.

'The people all protected her,
They ran from far and near, sirs,
Till they reached the house of Squire Byng,
Which was in St. James's-square, sirs.

'And there my blooming Caroline,
About her made a fuss, man,
And told how she had been deceived
By a cruel, barbarous, husband.'"

Street papers continued to be printed and sold in connection with Queen Caroline's trial up to the date of her death, in the month of August, 1821.

A COPY OF VERSES IN PRAISE OF QUEEN CAROLINE.

"Ye Britons all, both great and small,
Come listen to my ditty,
Your noble Queen, fair Caroline,
Does well deserve your pity.

Like harmless lamb that sucks its dam,
Amongst the flowery thyme,
Or turtle dove that's given to love:
And that's her only crime.

Wedlock I ween, to her has been
A life of grief and woe;
Thirteen years past she's had no rest,
As Britons surely know.

To blast her fame, men without shame,
Have done all they could do;
'Gainst her to swear they did prepare
A motley, perjured crew.

Europe they seek for Turk or Greek,
To swear her life away,
But she will triumph yet o'er all,
And innocence display.

Ye powers above, who virtue love,
Protect her from despair,
And soon her free from calumny,
Is every true man's prayer."

J. Catnach, Printer, 2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials.

Immediately following the Queen's death, there were published a whole host of monodies, elegies, and ballads in her praise. Catnach made a great hit with one entitled--"Oh! Britons Remember your Queen's Happy Days," together with a large broadside, entitled "An Attempt to Exhibit the Leading Events in the Queen's Life, in Cuts and Verse. Adorned with Twelve splendid Illustrations. Interspersed with Verses of Descriptive Poetry. Entered at Stationers' Hall. By Jas. Catnach, Printer, 7 Dials. Price 2d." A copy is preserved in the British Museum. Press Mark. _Tab._ 597, _a_, 1-67, and arranged under CATNACH, from which we select two pieces as a fair sample of Jemmy's "poetry-making!"--Which please to read carefully, and "Mind Your Stops!" quoth John Berkshire.

AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF THE QUEEN.

Curs'd be the hour when on the British shore,
She set her foot--whose loss we now deplore;
For, from that hour she pass'd a life of woe,
And underwent what few could undergo:
And lest she should a tranquil hour know,
Against her peace was struck a deadly blow;
A separation hardly to be borne,--
Her only daughter from her arms was torn!
And next discarded--driven from her home,
An unprotected Wanderer to roam!
Oh, how each heart with indignation fills,
When memory glances o'er the train of ills,
Which through her travels followed everywhere
In quick succession till this fatal year!
Here let us stop--for mem'ry serves too well,
To bear the woes which Caroline befel,
Each art was tried--at last to crush her down,
The Queen of England was refus'd a crown!
Too much to bear--Thus robb'd of all her state
She fell a victim to their hate!
"They have destroy'd me,"--with her parting breath,
She died--and calmly yielded unto death.
Forgiving all, she parted with this life,
A Queen, and no Queen--wife, and not a wife!
To Heaven her soul is borne on Seraph's wings,
To wait the Judgment of the KING of Kings;
Trusting to find a better world than this,
And meet her Daughter in the realms of bliss.

CAROLINE THE INJURED QUEEN OF ENGLAND.

Beneath this cold marble the "Wanderer" lies,
Here shall she rest 'till "the Heavens be no more,"
'Till the trumpet shall sound, and the Dead shall arise,
Then the perjurer unmask'd will his sentence deplore.
Ah! what will avail then? Pomp, Titles, and Birth,
Those empty distinctions all levell'd will be,
For the King shall be judg'd with the poor of the earth,
And perhaps, the poor man will be greater than he.
Until that day we leave Caroline's wrongs,
Meantime, may "Repentance" her foes overtake;
O grant it, kind POWER, to whom alone it belongs.
AMEN. Here an end of this Hist'ry we make.

_Quod._ JAS. C-T-N-H, Dec. 10th, 1821.

In the early part of the year 1821, the British public were informed through the then existing usual advertising mediums that there was about to be published, in monthly parts, "Pierce Egan's Life in London; or, the Day and Night Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., and his elegant friend Corinthian Tom, accompanied by Bob Logic, the Oxonian, in their Rambles and Sprees through the Metropolis. Embellished with Scenes from Real Life, designed and etched by I. R. and G. Cruikshank, and enriched with numerous original designs on wood by the same Artists."

And on the 15th of July, the first number, price one shilling, was published by Messrs. Sherwood, Neely, and Jones, of Paternoster Row. This sample, or first instalment, of the entire work was quite enough for society to judge by. It took both town and country by storm. It was found to be the exact thing in literature that the readers of those days wanted. Edition after edition was called for--and supplied, as fast as the illustrations could be got away from the small army of women and children who were colouring them. With the appearance of numbers two and three, the demand increased, and a revolution in our literature, in our drama, and even in our nomenclature began to develope itself. All the announcements from Paternoster Row were of books, great and small, depicting life in London; dramatists at once turned their attention to the same subject, and tailors, bootmakers, and hatters, recommended nothing but Corinthian shapes, and Tom and Jerry patterns.[7]

TOM AND JERRY.

"Of Life in London, Tom, Jerry and Logic I sing."
To the Strand then I toddled--the mob was great--
My watch I found gone--pockets undone:
I fretted at first, and rail'd against fate,
For I paid well to see "LIFE IN LONDON."

As may be readily conceived; the stage soon claimed "Tom and Jerry." The first drama founded upon the work was from the pen of Mr. Barrymore, and produced--"in hot haste," at the Royal Amphitheatre, on Monday, Sept. 17, 1821. The second dramatic version was written for the Olympic Theatre, by Charles Dibden, and first played on Monday, Nov. 12, 1821.

Mr. Moncrieff appeared as the third on the list of dramatists, and it was announced at the Adelphi Theatre in the following style:--"On Monday, Nov. 26th, 1821, will be presented for the first time, on a scale of unprecedented extent (having been many weeks in preparation under the superintendence of several of the most celebrated Artists, both in the _Ups and Downs_ of Life, who have all kindly come forward to assist the Proprietors in their endeavours to render the Piece a complete out-and-outer), an entirely new Classic, Comic, Operatic, Didactic, Aristophanic, Localic, Analytic, Panoramic, Camera-Obscura-ic Extravaganza-Burletta of Fun, Frolic, Fashion and Flash, in three acts, called 'TOM and JERRY; or LIFE in LONDON.' Replete with Prime Chaunts, Rum Glees, and Kiddy Catches, founded on Pierce Egan's well-known and highly popular work of the same name, by a celebrated extravagant erratic Author. The music selected and modified by him from the most eminent composers, ancient and modern, and every Air furnished with an attendant train of Graces. The costumes and scenery superintended by Mr. I. R. Cruikshank, from the Drawings by himself and his brother, Mr. George Cruikshank, the celebrated Artists of the original Work.

"Corinthian Tom, Mr. Wrench; Jerry Hawthorn, Mr. John Reeve; Logic, Mr. Wilkinson; Jemmy Green, Mr. Keeley; Dusty Bob, Mr. Walbourn; African Sal, Mr. Sanders; Billy Waters, Mr. Paulo; Kate, Mrs. Baker; Sue, Mrs. Waylett, &c., &c.

Besides the authors already mentioned, Tom Dibden, Farrell, and Douglas Jerrold, each produced dramas upon the popular theme, and during the seasons of 1821-2, "Life in London" was performed with _éclat_, at ten theatres in and around the metropolis, to overflowing houses. But Pierce Egan at length became tired of the successes of the playwrights in using his book, and resolved to try his own hand at a dramatic version--or, as he termed it, to "take a leaf out of his own book,"--and the AUTHOR'S PIECE was "got up" and performed for the first time at Sadler's Wells, under the management of Mr. Egerton, on Monday, April 8, 1822, with most decided success.

It was thus announced by Mrs. Egerton, in the address written for the occasion by T. Greenwood, Esq.:--

"To-night my friends, this modern taste to meet,
We show you JERRY at his country seat:
Then up to town transport the rustic beau,
And show him 'Life in London,' HIGH and LOW."

At length TOM and JERRY had been repeated so often in the Metropolis, that the performers, notwithstanding the great applause they nightly received in the above piece, absolutely became tired and worn-out with the repetition of their characters, when the following piece of satire, written by T. Greenwood, Esq., was published, entitled, "The Tears of Pierce Egan, Esq., for the Death of 'Life in London;' or, the Funeral of Tom and Jerry, dedicated to Robert and George Cruikshank, Esqs. Price Two Shillings, with an engraving by George Cruikshank."

"Beat out of the Pit and thrown over the Ropes,
TOM and JERRY resign'd their last breath,
With them, too, expired the Managers' hopes,
Who are left to deplore their sad death!

"Odd and various reports of the cause are about,
But the real one was _this_, I opine:
They were run to a _standstill_, and, therefore, no doubt,
That the cause was a rapid _decline_.

"When Death showed his _Nob_, out of _Time_ they were beat,
And neither would come to the _scratch_;
They hung down their heads and gave up the last heat,
Not prepared with the Spectre to _match_.

"All wept at the FUNERAL! the FANCY and all--
Some new, but a great many mended:
And EGAN, while CRUIKSHANK and _Bob_ held the pall,
As _Chief-Mourner_ in person attended!!!

"Their _Sprees_ and their _Rambles_ no more shall amuse,
Farewell to all nocturnal parleys:
The Town felt regret as the bell tolled the news,
And no one rejoiced--but the _Charleys_!

"A monument, too, their kind Patrons will raise,
Inscribed on--'Here lies TOM and JERRY,
Who, departing the _stage_ to their immortal praise,
ONE THOUSAND NIGHTS made the _Town Merry_!!!'

"May their souls rest in peace, since they've chosen to flit,
Like other great heroes departed;
May no mischief arise from the _sudden_ exit,
Nor PIERCE EGAN die--_broken-hearted_!"

In reference to the above, Pierce Egan states in "The Finish to the Adventures of Tom, Jerry, and Logic," that Catnach, in less than twelve hours after the publication, produced a pirated edition for street sale, for twopence.

Mr. Pierce Egan, in his "_Finish_," states that he reckoned no less than sixty-five separate publications, which he enumerates _in extenso_, all derived from his own work, and adds, with his usual amount of large and small CAPITALS and _italics_--"We have been _pirated_, COPIED, _traduced_; but unfortunately, not ENRICHED by our indefatigable exertions; therefore NOTORIETY must satisfy us, instead of the smiles of FORTUNE."

Jemmy Catnach, true to his line of life, soon joined what Pierce Egan designates as the "Mob of Literary Pirates," and brought out a "whole sheet" for street-sale, entitled "Life in London," with twelve woodcuts, which are reduced and very roughly executed copies of the centre figures of the original plates by the Brothers Cruikshank--but all in reverse. The letter-press matter consists of a poetical epitome of the plot and design of the original work of "Life in London." And taking it as it stands, and from whence it emanated, rather a creditable performance, particularly when we take into consideration--as duly announced by the street-patterer, that it was "Just printed and pub--lish--ed, all for the low charge of twopence."

On the rarity of this Catnachian and pirated edition of "Life in London" it is superfluous to enlarge, and it is easy to account for this circumstance, if we reflect that the broadside form of publication is by no means calculated for preservation; hundreds of similar pieces printed for street-sale must have perished. The more generally acceptable a broadside or street ballad became, and was handed about for perusal, the more it was exposed to the danger of destruction. No copy of Catnach's version is preserved in the British Museum, therefore, and for the reason above stated, it must be considered as a great "Literary Rarity."[8]

CUT I.--JERRY IN TRAINING FOR A SWELL.

Now Jerry must needs be a swell,
His coat must have a swallow-tail,
And Mr. Snip, so handy, O,
Soon rigg'd him out a Dandy, O.

CUT II.--TOM AND JERRY AMONG THE LADIES.

Ladies, your most humble servants,
Tom and Jerry stand before you.
Our blood is thrilling, you're so killing;
At once we love you and adore you.

CUT III.--JERRY LOSES AT PLAY.

At St. James's they dine, when, flushed with new wine,
To the Gaming Tables they reel,
Where blacklegs and sharps, often gammon the flats,
As their pockets do presently feel.

CUT IV.--JERRY LEARNING TO SPAR.

Now Jerry's become a Fancy blade,
To Jackson's he often goes,
And to shew his skill in the milling trade,
He crack'd poor Logick's nose.

CUT V.--TOM AND JERRY AT A FORTUNE-TELLER'S.

Here lives a Fortune-Telling Gipsy,
Wrinkled, crabbed, grim and old;
And Tom and Jerry's fancy ladies
Are gone to get their Fortunes told.

CUT VI.--BEGGAR'S OPERA. TOM, JERRY, AND LOGICK AMONG THE CADGERS IN THE HOLY LAND.

Now to keep up the spree, Tom, Jerry and Logick,
Went disguis'd to the Slums in the Holy Land;
Through each crib and each court, they hunted for sport,
Till they came to the BEGGAR'S OPERA so named.

CUT VII.--NIGHT SCENE.--TOM AND JERRY UPSETTING THE CHARLEYS.

Hark! the watchman springs his rattle,
Now the midnight lark's begun;
Boxes crashing, lanthorns smashing,
Mill the Charleys--oh! what fun.

CUT VIII.--BROUGHT BEFORE THE MAGISTRATES.

An' please your Worship here's three fellows
Been hammering of us all about;
Broke our boxes, lanthorns, smellers,
And almost clos'd our peepers up.

CUT IX.--TOM, JERRY, AND LOGICK IN A ROW.

Mercy! what a din and clatter
Breaks the stillness of the night,
Lamps do rattle--'tis a battle,
Quick, and let us see the sight.

CUT X.--SCENE IN A GIN-SHOP.

Here some are tumbling and jumping in,
And some are staggering out;
One's pawn'd her smock for a quartern of gin,
Another, her husband's coat.

CUT XI.--POOR LOGICK IN THE FLEET.

All in the Fleet poor Logick's moor'd
His swaggering's now at an end!

CUT XII.--JERRY GOING BACK TO THE COUNTRY.

Three merry boys were Logick, Tom and Jerry,
And many funny larks they have seen;
Farewell, gay London, the country calls me home again,
The coach moves on--the play is done--Goodbye, Goodbye.

_Quod._ JAS. C-N-H, March 23, 1822.

How delightful Pierce Egan's book was to the youths of England, and how eagerly all its promised feasts of pleasure were devoured by them, Thackeray has told us in his "Roundabout Papers--DE JUVENTUTE" in the "Cornhill Magazine" for October, 1860.

* * * * *

Mr., afterwards Sir William Cubitt, of Ipswich, erected a treadmill at Brixton Gaol, and soon afterwards in other large prisons. A street ballad on the subject was issued from the "Catnach Press" and had a most unprecedented sale, keeping the pressmen and boys working for weeks--

"And we're all treading at fam'd Brixton Mill."

The treadmill--that "terror to evil doers"--excited much attention, and the inventor's name gave rise to many jokes on the subject among such of the prisoners as could laugh at their own crimes, who said they were punished by the _cubit_!.

THE TREADMILL.

This Brixton Mill's a fearful ill,
And he who brought the Bill in,
Is threat'n'd by the _cribbing_ coves,
That he shall have a _milling_.
They say he shew'd a simple pate,
To think of felons mending;
As every _step_ which here they take
They're still in crime _ascending_.

Tom, Jerry, Logic, three prime sprigs,
Find here they cannot _come_ it,
For though their _fancy_ soars aloft,
They ne'er will reach the _summit_.
Corinthian Kate and buxom Sue
Must change their _warm_ direction,
For if they make one _false step_ more
They'll have _Cold Bath Correction_.

There can be little doubt that Jemmy Catnach, the great publisher of the Seven Dials, 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 account of murders, impossible robberies, delusive suicides, dark deeds, and--though last, not least, in _his_ love--public executions, _vulgo_ "Hanging Matches," 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:--

THE FLYING STATIONER, OTHERWISE PATTERER.

"All you that have got feeling, 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."

"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."

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 pretence
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 knees 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,
Aä! 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 Assizes 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.

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.

I see the hangman before me stand,
Ready to seize me by the law's command;
When my life is ended on the fatal tree,
Then will be clear'd up all mystery."

Occasionally the Last Sorrowful Lamentation 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. The _block!_ opposite, to our own knowledge, served as the _counterfeit_ presentment of all popular murderers for upwards of forty 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 £500 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 tympans with sheep-skins. But by working day and night 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."

The circumstances immediately attending the murder are so fully and so well detailed in the proper channels that we need not here say more than that the trial took place at Hertford on the 5th January, 1824.

The prisoners who stood indicted were John Thurtell and Joseph Hunt. The latter was at the time well known as a public singer and was somewhat celebrated for the talent which he possessed. Both prisoners were found guilty, but Hunt was reprieved and subsequently ordered to be transported for life. Thurtell, who fully confessed to the crime, was executed in front of Hertford gaol on Friday, the 9th of January, 1824.

As before observed, Catnach cleared over £500 by this event, and was so loth to leave it, that when a wag put him up to a joke, and showed him how he might set the thing a-going again, he could not withstand it; and so, about a fortnight after Thurtell had been hanged, Jemmy brought out a startling broad-sheet, headed, "WE ARE ALIVE AGAIN!" He put so little space between the words "WE" and "ARE" that it looked at first sight like "WEARE." Many thousands were bought by the ignorant and gullible public, but those who did not like the trick called it a "catch penny," and this gave rise to this peculiar term, which ever afterwards stuck to the issues of the "Seven Dials' Press," though they sold as well as ever.

Probert, who had been mixed up in the affair, was admitted as King's evidence and discharged at the rising of the Court. He subsequently met the fate he so richly deserved, for, having been found guilty at the Old Bailey of horse stealing, he was executed there on the 20th of June, 1825.

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
laid 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.

On the 10th of September, 1824, Henry Fauntleroy, of the firm of Marsh, Stracey, Fauntleroy, and Graham, bankers, in Berners-street, was apprehended in consequence of its being discovered that in September, 1820, £10,000 3 per cent stock, standing in the names of himself, J. D. Hume, and John Goodchild, as trustees of Francis William Bellis, had been sold out under a power of attorney, to which the names of his co-trustees and some of the subscribing witnesses were forged. It was soon ascertained that the extent to which this practice had been carried was enormous, no less than £170,000 stock having been sold out in 1814 and 1815 by the same fraudulent means.

Every exertion was used by Mr. Fauntleroy's counsel, his case being twice argued before the Judges, but both decisions were against him; and on the 30th of November, 1824, his execution took place. The number of persons assembled was estimated at nearly 100,000.

The station in society of this unfortunate man, and the long-established respectability of the banking-house, in which he was the most active partner, with the vast extent of the forgeries committed, gave to his case an intensity of interest which has scarcely ever been equalled, and during the whole time it was pending afforded plenty of work for the printers and vendors of street literature. Catnach's advanced position, which was now far beyond all his compeers, caused him to get the lion's share. Every incident in the man's character, history, and actions was taken advantage of. The sheets, almost wet from the press, were read by high and low; by those who lived and revelled in marble halls and gilded saloons, as well as by those who thronged our large towns and centres of industry.

The parliamentary election of 1826, for the county of Northumberland, the principal seat of which was at Alnwick, gave early promise of being severely contested. There were four candidates in the field, namely, Henry Thomas Liddell, afterwards first Earl of Ravensworth, of Ravensworth Castle, county Durham; Mr. Matthew Bell, of Woolsingham, Northumberland; Mr. Thomas Wentworth Beaumont, and Lord Howick, afterwards Henry the third Earl Grey, K.G. The nomination of the candidates took place on Tuesday, June 20th, 1826, and the polling continued till July 6th, when the result was as follows:--

Liddell 1562
Bell 1380
Beaumont 1335
Howick 997

This contest was the greatest political event in the history of the county. It is estimated that it cost the candidates little short of £250,000.

Now, as we have before observed, Mr. Mark Smith--who till the time of his death, on the 18th of May, 1881, aged 87--carried on the business of printer and bookseller at Alnwick--and James Catnach, were fellow apprentices, both being bound to learn the art of printing to the elder Catnach on the same day. This early-formed acquaintanceship continued throughout the remaining portion of Catnach's life, and whenever Mr. Mark Smith came to London in after years, he always visited Jemmy's house.

It was in consequence of the continued friendship existing between Mr. Mark Smith and Jemmy Catnach that the latter had often expressed a desire to serve his fellow-apprentice, should circumstances occur to render it necessary. The Alnwick election of 1826 promised to be a good one as regarded printing, and Mr. Smith anticipating a difficulty in getting through his work, applied to Catnach to know if he could render him any assistance. The result was that Jemmy at once proffered to go to Alnwick and take with him a small hand-press. After his arrival he seldom went out of the house, as all hands worked early and late, for, besides addresses, squibs, &c., they had to get out the state of the poll every afternoon, shortly after four o'clock. The number of addresses and squibs, in prose and verse, during this memorable election was enormous. The whole, when collected together, forms four good-sized volumes. The principal printers in Alnwick at this time, and who were engaged by the candidates, were Smith, Davison, and Graham. But there was a great deal of printing done at Newcastle, Gateshead, North Shields, Morpeth, and other towns.

There can be but little doubt that all who were professionally engaged at this election made a good thing out of it. The money spent upon printing alone must have been very great. And nearly all the public-houses in Alnwick were made "open houses," as well as most of those in the principal towns throughout the county. Old people talk to this day, with a degree of pride of "those good old times" that existed at the Parliamentary elections previous to the passing of the Reform Bill of 1832. As far as Catnach was concerned, he merely went to help to pay off a deep debt of gratitude owing by him to the Smith family for many past favours to his own family when they were in dire distress in _auld lang syne_. Besides, Jemmy was now getting towards that state known as being "comfortably well-to-do," and the trip was a change of air--a bit of a holiday, and a visit to the town of his birth. And as he had buried his mother in London during the early part of the year, he took the opportunity to erect in the parish churchyard, that which at once stands as a cenotaph and a tombstone, bearing the following inscription:--

"JOHN, Son of JOHN CATNACH,
Printer, died August 27th,
1794, Aged 5 years & 7 months.
JOHN CATNACH died in
LONDON, 1813, Aged 44.
MARY, his wife died Jany.
24th, 1826, Aged 60 years,
Also John, Margaret, and
Jane Catnach, lie here."[9]

During Catnach's absence from London on the Alnwick election, his old rivals--the Pitts family--were, as usual, concocting false reports, and exhibiting lampoons, after the following manner:--

"Poor Jemmy with the son of Old Nick,
Down to Northumberland he's gone;
To take up his freedom at Alnwick,
The why or the wherefore's known to none.

"Before he went, he washed in soap and sud,
The Alnwick folks they found the fiddle;
Then they dragged poor Jemmy through the mud,
Two foot above his middle.

The above was in allusion to the old ceremony of being dragged through the dirty pool to be made a Freeman of the town of Alnwick. But, as far as Catnach was concerned, there is no truth whatever in the matter, it was simply "a weak invention of the enemy." It was in the latter part of June and the beginning of July in the same year, that Catnach was at Alnwick, and the ceremony of making freemen always took place on St. Mark's Day, April 25th, or at least two months earlier.

Thus the statement of the Pitts' party was--

"As false
As air, as water, as wind, as sandy earth,
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,
Pard to the hind, or step-dame to her son."

Catnach, as the high priest of the literature of the streets, surrounded by trade rivals, "stood like a man at a mark with a whole army shooting at him," but he was as firm as a rock and with the strength of a giant, and, as Hyperion to a Satyr, defied them all.

The destruction of the Royal Brunswick Theatre, Well-street, Wellclose-square, East London, on the 29th of February, 1828, by the falling in of the walls, in consequence of too much weight being attached to the heavy cast-iron roof, made a rare nine-day's wonder for the workers of street-papers. Fortunately the catastrophe happened in the day-time, during the rehearsal of "Guy Mannering," and only fifteen persons perished, viz:--

Mr. D. S. Maurice, a master printer, of Fenchurch-street, one of the
Proprietors,

Mr. J. Evans _Bristol Observer_
Miss Mary A. Feron _Actress_,
Miss Freeman _Corps de ballet_,
Mr. E. Gilbert _Comedian_,
Mr. J. Blamire _Property Man_,
Mr. G. Penfold _Doorkeeper_,
Miss Jane Wall _Visitor_,
Mr. J. Purdy _Blacksmith_,
Messrs. J. Miles, W. Leader,
A. W. Davidson, M. Miles,
and J. Abbott _Carpenters_,
J. Levy, _A Clothesman_ (accidentally passing).

"Oh yes, sir! I remember well the falling of the Brunswick Theatre, out Whitechapel way. It was a rare good thing for all the running and standing patterers in and about ten miles of London. Every day we all killed more and more people--in our "Latest Particulars." One day there was twenty persons killed, the next day thirty or forty, until it got at last to be worked up to about a hundred, and all killed. Then we killed all sorts of people, Duke of Wellington, and all the Dukes and Duchesses, Bishops, swell nobs and snobs we could think of at the moment."

SINGULAR DISCOVERY OF THE BODY FROM A DREAM.

THE RED BARN.

THE SCENE OF THE MURDER, AND WHERE THE BODY OF MARIA
MARTEN WAS FOUND CONCEALED.]

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. 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 next 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 towards the scaffold, and
as he passed 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.
Tho 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 this 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 onto 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

"Oh, she lives snug in the Holy Land,
Right, tight, and merry in the Holy Land,
Search the globe round, none can be found
So _accommodating!_ as Old Mother Cummins--of the Holy Land."