Celebrated naval and military trials

By Peter Burke and Loewy Benno

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Title: Celebrated naval and military trials

Author: Peter Burke
        Loewy Benno

Release date: July 10, 2025 [eBook #76472]

Language: English

Original publication: London: Wm. H. Allen & Co, 1866

Credits: Richard Tonsing, Brian Coe, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CELEBRATED NAVAL AND MILITARY TRIALS ***





                               CELEBRATED
                           NAVAL AND MILITARY
                                TRIALS.


                            BY PETER BURKE,

                           =Serjeant-at-Law.=

  AUTHOR OF “CELEBRATED TRIALS CONNECTED WITH THE ARISTOCRACY,” AND OF
                      “THE ROMANCE OF THE FORUM.”


                                LONDON:

              WM. H. ALLEN & CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE, S.W.

                                 1866.




                            =To his friend,=

                         JAMES HOLBERT WILSON,

              WHOSE TASTES ARE SO CONGENIAL WITH HIS OWN,

                              THE AUTHOR,

                    WITH MUCH PLEASANT REMEMBRANCE,

                         INSCRIBES THIS VOLUME.

  3, SERJEANT’S INN,
          _Christmas, 1865_.




                               CONTENTS.


                                                                            PAGE
 Admiral Benbow and his Treacherous Captains                                   1
 Captain Kidd, a Pirate with a Royal Commission                               21
 Soldiers and Civilians in the time of William III.                           49
 The Trial of Admiral Byng                                                    60
 The Trial of Lord George Sackville                                           93
 The Dockyard Incendiary, Jack the Painter                                   118
 The Trial of Admiral Keppel                                                 158
 The Mutiny of the “Bounty”                                                  200
 The Mutiny at the Nore                                                      229
 The Trial of Governor Wall                                                  264
 The Trial of Colonel Despard                                                307
 The Court-Martial on Vice-Admiral Calder                                    349
 Trial of General Sir Robert Wilson and others for the Escape of Lavallette  376




                           CELEBRATED TRIALS,

                   CONNECTED WITH THE ARMY AND NAVY.




              ADMIRAL BENBOW AND HIS TREACHEROUS CAPTAINS.


There was, before the time of Rodney and Nelson, no name more popular
among the sailors of the British navy than that of Admiral Benbow. He
had been a sailor himself, and he was, while living, the sailors’ idol;
and since his death his memory has been held in much reverence by the
Jack Tars of that and every succeeding age. The thorough sagacity,
honesty, and gallantry he displayed in his many daring ventures had
taken, too, with the general public: and “old Benbow,” as he was
familiarly called (though really never an old man) was looked on as the
model of a rough and real British seaman, suited for all weather and all
war. He and his deeds have been the subject of many a naval song[1] and
story, and his likeness was formerly a common sign for public houses
throughout the country. Moreover, to this day, the portraits of the
admiral in the town hall of Shrewsbury, and in Greenwich Hospital, and
his stalwart visage still to be seen, here and there, in front of some
rural inn; and more than all that, the many yarns about him, show that
even amid the greater glories of Keppel and Duncan, Rodney and Nelson,
old Benbow is not forgotten. Admiral Benbow, though he had to make his
own way, came, according to his biographers, from a branch of an ancient
and honourable line,—the Benbows of Newport, in the county of Salop;
but, singular to say, much obscurity hangs about his immediate
parentage. In the Civil War his family of Benbow was Cavalier, and
sacrificed life and property in bravely sustaining the royal cause.
Colonel Thomas Benbow and Colonel John Benbow, generally understood to
be,—the former uncle, and the latter father, of the admiral, were, it is
related, both men of estate, and both officers in the army of Charles I.
They were in the military service of the crown prior to the murder of
the king, and afterwards fought at Worcester, and were made prisoners at
or shortly after that engagement. Much discrepancy occurs as to the
exact result of their capture. The usual biographies we find of Admiral
Benbow will have it that the elder, Colonel Thomas Benbow, was shot at
Shrewsbury on the 15th, 17th, or 19th of October, 1651, and that Colonel
John Benbow made his escape. I, however, on referring to the State
Trials, find that a _Captain_ John Benbow (he may have never been
colonel, or his promotion of colonel might be looked on as illegal in
the eyes of the Commonwealth) was tried on the 1st of October, 1651, by
a Roundhead court-martial, and had the honour of having, on that
occasion, two important fellow prisoners, viz., the brave royalist, Sir
Timothy Fetherstonhaugh, and the illustrious Earl of Derby. The earl and
Sir Timothy were sentenced to be beheaded,—the one on the 15th of
October, 1651, at Bolton; and the other on the 22nd of the same month at
Chester; and Captain John Benbow was sentenced to be shot at Shrewsbury
on the 15th of the same month. The earl and Fetherstonhaugh, as every
one knows, died pursuant to their sentences; but I find no statement, in
the State Trials at least, that John Benbow was actually executed. Could
it be, if this account is to be sustained, that Colonel Thomas Benbow
was shot by sentence of some previous court-martial, and that John
escaped from the judgment to be put in force at Shrewsbury? However,
whether from that judgment or not, escape he must have done, if the
following story refer to him, which, however, is doubtful. He, it is
said, lived during the Commonwealth in concealment, his land being
forfeited; and the Restoration found him poor and broken down, and glad
to accept a small ordnance post in the Tower of London. Here he was,
when his death is reported to have occurred in a very affecting way. It
happened that a little before the breaking out of the first Dutch war,
King Charles II. came to the Tower to examine the magazines, and his
majesty there cast his eye on the colonel, whose appearance had become
venerable by a fine head of grey hair. The king, whose memory was as
quick as his eye, knew him at first sight, and immediately came up and
embraced him. “My old friend, Colonel Benbow,” said he, “what do you
here?” “I have,” returned the colonel, “a place of fourscore pounds a
year, in which I serve your majesty as cheerfully as if it brought me in
four thousand.” “Alas!” said the king, “Is that all that could be found
for an old friend at Worcester? Colonel Legge, bring this gentleman to
me to-morrow, and I will provide for him and his family as it becomes
me.” But, short as the time was, the colonel did not live to receive, or
so much as to claim, the effects of this gracious promise; for the sense
of the king’s gratitude and goodness so overcame his spirits, that,
sitting down on a bench, he there breathed his last, before the king was
well out of the Tower.[2] John Benbow, the future admiral, was fifteen
years of age,[3] and was in the merchant service at the time this
Colonel Benbow’s demise thus happened. One thing is certain, that the
king’s good-natured interview resulted in no benefit to young Benbow;
but he found a better friend in his own industry and ability, which
raised him to be owner and commander of the _Benbow_ frigate, one of the
most considerable vessels then employed in the Mediterranean trade.
Captain Benbow had grown into high esteem with the merchants of the
Royal Exchange as a brave, active, and skilful seaman, when the
following singular incident led to his passing into the royal navy.

In the year 1686, Captain Benbow, in his own vessel, the _Benbow_
frigate, was attacked in his passage to Cadiz by a Moorish corsair, from
that notorious nest of pirates, Salee. Captain Benbow defended himself,
though very unequal in the number of men, with the utmost bravery, till
at last the Moors boarded him; but were quickly beat out of his ship
again with the loss of thirteen men, whose heads Captain Benbow ordered
to be cut off, and thrown into a tub of brine. When he arrived at Cadiz
he went ashore, and directed a negro servant to follow him, with the
Moors’ heads in a sack. He had scarcely landed before the officers of
the revenue inquired of his servant what he had in his sack. The captain
answered, salt provisions for his own use. That may be, answered the
officers; but we must insist on seeing them. Captain Benbow alleged that
he was no stranger there; that he did not use to run goods, and
pretended to take it very ill that he was suspected. The officers told
him that the magistrates were sitting not far off, and that if they were
satisfied with his word, his servant might carry the provisions where he
pleased; but that otherwise it was not in their power to grant such
dispensation.

The captain consented to the proposal, and away they marched to the
custom-house, Captain Benbow in the front, his man in the centre, and
the officers in the rear. The magistrates, when he came before them,
treated Captain Benbow with great civility; told him they were sorry to
make a point of such a trifle, but that since he had refused to show the
contents of his sack to their officers, the nature of their employments
obliged them to demand a sight of them; and that, as they doubted not
they were salt provisions, the showing them could be of no great
consequence one way or other. “I told you,” says the captain sternly,
“they were salt provisions for my own use. Cæsar, throw them down upon
the table; and, gentlemen, if you like them, they are at your service.”
The Spaniards were astounded at the sight of the Moors’ heads, and no
less astonished at the account of the captain’s adventure, who, with so
small a force, had been able to defeat such a number of barbarians. They
sent an account of the whole matter to the court of Madrid, and Charles
II., then king of Spain, was so much pleased with it, that he would
needs see the English captain, who made a journey to court, where he was
received with great testimonies of respect, and not only when departing
received a handsome present, but his Catholic Majesty was also pleased
to write a letter in his behalf to King James II., a naval monarch, well
able to appreciate the captain’s daring; and so it proved, for the
English king, upon the captain’s return, gave him a ship, which was his
introduction to the Royal navy.[4] There he speedily won high
distinction, but as his career is matter of history, I pass over his
several daring cruises, his effective convoys, his bombardment of St.
Maloes, his fire-ships, and his bold attack on Calais, where he was
wounded, and his other numerous acts of gallantry. He became an admiral
in 1694, and in 1700 King William III., it is said, to mark his
approbation, granted him an honourable augmentation to his arms, “by
adding to the three bent bows which he and his family already bore as
many arrows.”[5] On the approach of the war of the Succession, King
William wanted a commander for his West India fleet, but hesitated
summoning Benbow, as he had already worked him so hard. Some other
officers sent for seemed not to like undertaking the heavy duty
proposed, upon which the king is reported to have said, “I will not have
these beaux, but must get a beau of another sort, honest Benbow.” The
admiral accordingly arrived, and when the king excused himself for
exacting what he thought too much, Benbow said, “he knew no difference
of climates, and, for his part, he thought no officer had a right to
choose his station, that he himself should be, at all times, ready to go
to any part of the world to which his majesty thought proper to send
him.”

Benbow sailed with the fleet to the West Indies; he there did all he
could to carry out the object of his government to force the Spanish
colonies not to recognise Philip V., Louis XIV.’s grandson, as king of
Spain; and the moment he received official information of war being
declared, May, 4, 1702, against France, he prepared, with his usual
daring, to attack with a far inferior force the squadron under the
command of the French admiral, Du Casse. This brought on the affair,
which redounded so to his own honour and to the disgrace of the captains
under him. Mr. C. J. Yonge, in his recent able “History of the British
Navy,” to which I shall have to refer more than once in this volume,
gives the following clear and spirited account of the memorable
engagement:—

“In the autum of 1701 Benbow had been sent to the Antilles, where it was
known that the French admiral, Du Casse, was also cruising. Benbow was a
resolute and skilful officer, but a man of a somewhat rough and stern
temper, which had excited a feeling of insubordination and hostility
against him in the breasts of some of his officers. Though peace still
subsisted when he quitted England, his instructions were warlike; and he
had acted on them, making prizes of several Spanish ships, and in no
respect keeping secret his intention to treat the French in the same
manner, if opportunity should offer. In the spring of 1702 certain
information reached him that the French were preparing greatly to
increase their force in the neighbourhood; and at the beginning of
August he learnt that Du Casse, with four ships of the line, and one
large frigate, were off Carthagena, making arrangements with the
Spaniards to cripple our trade in that quarter. His own force consisted
of two ships of the line, one ship of fifty-four guns, and four large
frigates.[6] With these he at once sailed in quest of the Frenchman;
and, on the 19th of August, he found him proceeding under easy sail at
no great distance from the South American shore. Benbow at once made the
signal for battle, but, as the French squadron, though not positively
fleeing from the combat, held on its course, without taking any measures
to bring it on; little was done that evening, beyond exchanging one or
two broadsides. The next five days are amongst the most discreditable in
our naval history. During the night of the 19th, Benbow, in his own
ship, the _Breda_, of seventy guns, had kept as close to the enemy as
the darkness would allow; and so correct had been his judgment of their
course, that at daybreak, on the 20th, he found himself close to them;
but of all his squadron, but one frigate, the _Ruby_, Captain George
Walton (on such a day of cowardice, or treachery, or both, his name
deserves honourable mention), was at hand to support him; the rest had
already contrived to fall several miles astern. Still, as the enemy
continued on their way, Benbow, with this single comrade, pursued them
as vigorously as he could, firing whenever they seemed within gunshot,
and signalling with peremptory orders to the rest of the ships to join
him. The next day the French, seeing his almost isolated state, halted
to fight. The _Ruby_ behaved most gallantly, and engaged one of the
ships of the line, but was soon disabled by her antagonist’s heavier
fire, and might have been taken, had it not been for the resolute manner
in which the _Breda_ first supported, and then protected her. While this
conflict was proceeding, the _Defiance_, 64, Captain Kirby, was unable
to avoid coming close to the enemy, but she refused to fire a single
shot. The _Windsor_, 48, Captain Constable, behaved equally ill; and the
next day the _Greenwich_, 54, Captain Wade, behaved even worse, keeping
five leagues from the admiral, who, from the crippled state of the
_Ruby_, was in greater need of support than ever. On the 23rd Benbow
engaged the whole of the enemy’s ships single handed; he even took a
small vessel, called the _Anne_, a British galley, which Du Casse had
captured on his way out. At last, Captain Vincent, of the _Falmouth_,
48, began to feel something like shame at the part which he had been
enacting, and came to his assistance. The next day Benbow, now supported
by the _Falmouth_, was still continuing the fight with unabated
resolution, when a chain-shot struck him on the leg. In spite of all the
agony of this mortal wound (for such it proved to be) his spirit was as
resolute as ever. He was borne below, but he soon ordered himself to be
again carried on deck, where he still gave his orders with an unaltered
countenance. ‘I am sorry, sir,’ said Fogg, his captain, ‘to see you in
this state.’ ‘I am sorry too,’ said the brave old man; ‘but I would
rather have lost both my legs than have seen this disgrace brought on
the British flag.’ Presently he was addressed in a different spirit.
Captain Kirby had the audacity to come on board the _Breda_, and tell
him, ‘that he had better desist; the French were very strong, and, from
what had passed, he might see that he could make nothing of it.’ In
truth he could make nothing of it: he had, indeed, reduced the ship with
which he had been most closely engaged to a wreck; but he had not
escaped severe injury to his own masts and rigging. The whole French
squadron were now in full flight, and he soon became convinced of the
impossibility of keeping up any further pursuit of them with the
slightest prospect of success. He returned for Jamaica, while Du Casse
made his way to Carthagena, thankful for his escape, and well aware to
what circumstances he owed it.”

The French admiral was a man of spirit, and fully acknowledged the
heroism of Benbow and the rascality of the officers under him. He wrote
a letter to Admiral Benbow, of which the following is a translation:—


                                            “CARTHAGENA, _August, 1702_.

  “Sir,—I had little hopes on Monday last but to have supped in your
  cabin, yet it pleased God to order it otherwise. As for those cowardly
  captains who deserted you, hang them up: for by —— they deserve it.

                                                             “DU CASSE.”


The original letter has been preserved by Admiral Benbow’s family.

Admiral Benbow, after being thus cheated, as it were, out of victory,
returned to Jamaica, where he arrived with his squadron, very weak from
a fever brought on by his wounds, and was soon after joined by
Rear-Admiral Whetstone, with the ships under his command.

As soon as he conveniently could, Admiral Benbow issued a commission to
Rear-Admiral Whetstone, and to several captains, to hold a court-martial
for the trial of the several offenders. On the 6th of October, 1702, the
court sat at Port Royal, when Captain Richard Kirby, of the _Defiance_,
was brought upon his trial. He was accused of cowardice, breach of
orders, and neglect of duty, which crimes were proved upon oath by
Admiral Benbow himself, ten commission and eleven warrant officers; by
whose evidence it appeared that the Admiral boarded Du Casse in person
three times, and received a large wound in his face, and another in his
arm, before his leg was shot off: that Kirby, after two or three
broadsides, kept always out of gunshot, and by his behaviour created
such a fear of his desertion, as greatly discouraged the English in the
engagement: that he kept two or three miles astern all the second day,
though commanded again and again to keep his station: that the third day
he did not fire a gun, though he saw the admiral in the deepest
distress, having two or three French men-of-war upon him at a time: and
that he threatened to kill his boatswain for repeating the admiral’s
command to fire. He had very little to say for himself, and therefore
was most deservedly sentenced to be shot.

The same day, Captain John Constable, of the _Windsor_, was tried; his
own officers vindicated him from cowardice, but the rest of the charge
being clearly proved, he was sentenced to be cashiered, and to be
imprisoned during Her Majesty’s (Queen Anne’s) pleasure. The next day,
Captain Cooper Wade was tried, and the charge being fully proved by
sixteen commission and warrant officers on board his own ship, as also,
that he was drunk during the whole time of the engagement, he, making
little or no defence, had the same sentence with Kirby. As for Captain
Hudson, he died a few days before his trial should have come on, and
thereby avoided dying as Kirby and Wade died, for his case was exactly
the same as theirs.

Upon the 12th, came on the trials of Captain Samuel Vincent, commander
of the _Falmouth_, and Captain Christopher Fogg, who was captain of the
admiral’s own ship, the _Breda_, for signing, at the persuasion of
Captain Kirby, a paper containing an obligation on themselves not to
fight the French. The fact was clear, and the captains themselves did
not dispute it. All they offered was in extenuation of their offence,
and amounted only to this, that they were apprehensive Kirby would have
deserted to the enemy, and they took this step to prevent it. But this
tale would have hardly passed on the court-martial, if Admiral Benbow
himself had not given some weight to their excuses, by declaring, that
however they might be criminal in subscribing that paper, yet they
certainly behaved themselves very gallantly in the fight. For the sake
of discipline, the court, however, thought fit to suspend them; and yet,
to favour the captains, the judgment was given with a proviso that
entirely took off its edge, viz., that it should not commence till the
pleasure of his Royal Highness Prince George of Denmark, the then Lord
High Admiral, should be known. The prince dealt too leniently with them,
for he sent orders for their being employed again.

The two chief offenders, however, Kirby and Wade, underwent the penalty
their atrocious conduct had so richly merited. They were, in the spring
of 1703, sent from Jamaica, onboard Her Majesty’s ship, the _Bristol_,
and they arrived at Plymouth on the 16th of April, where (as in all the
western ports), there lay a death warrant for their immediate execution,
in order to prevent any applications in their favour; and not being, as
having disgraced their country, permitted to land on English ground,
they were accordingly shot on board the ship that brought them home,
showing at their death such courage and constancy of mind, as made it
evident that their behaviour in the engagement arose not from any
natural cowardice, but from a corrupt and malignant hostility towards
their gallant commander. Let us now return to Benbow himself. He
lingered near a month after the trials; for the court sat on the 6th of
October, and it was on the 4th of November, 1702, that his true and
valiant spirit fled. He showed the soul of a perfect British seaman to
the very last. He was all along extremely sensible of his danger, and
never entertained any flattering hopes of recovery. Yet, while he calmly
and religiously prepared for death, he, during his illness, never ceased
to perform his duty as an English admiral, with the same firmness he had
shown during the engagement, giving all the necessary orders for
protecting the trade that could have been expected from him, if he had
been in full health. In the letters he wrote home to his wife, he
displayed anxiety for the interest of the nation, quite as great as, if
not greater, than for his private fortune, or the concerns of his
family. Queen Anne, who had succeeded King William on the 8th of March,
1702, deeply mourned the loss of the admiral, and ever expressed the
greatest regard for his memory. The admiral’s sister had, in his
lifetime, presented his picture to the Corporation of Shrewsbury, who
caused it to be hung up in their town-hall, where it still remains, in
lasting testimony of the affectionate remembrance in which the men of
his county held his worth and patriotism.

Admiral Benbow, by Martha his wife, left behind him a family of two sons
and two daughters, but his sons dying without issue, his two surviving
daughters became co-heiresses. Of these, the elder, Martha, born in
1679, was the wife, first of Thomas Stringer, and secondly of Samuel
Robinson, and died in 1719; and the younger, Catherine, born in 1687,
was the wife of Paul Calton, Esq., of Deptford, and of Milton, near
Abingdon, Berks, and Hampstead, Middlesex. John Benbow, the admiral’s
elder son, was a seaman of some note in his day, in consequence of his
strange adventures when second mate on board the _Degrave_, East
Indiaman, 52 guns. That vessel was shipwrecked off the coast of
Madagascar, and Captain Young, who commanded the vessel, Mr. Buchan, and
others with them, endeavoured to make terms with the negro inhabitants
of the island, by forcibly carrying off their king and queen. In this
daring attempt they nearly succeeded, and some of them, including
Benbow, got out of the clutches of the pursuing savages; after this,
Benbow, unable to quit the island, remained some years among the
negroes, living after their manner, and on friendly terms with them. He
eventually returned to England on board a Dutch vessel, and, dying in
1708, was interred in the vault of St. Nicholas Church, Deptford. His
brother, William Benbow, a great collector of epitaphs, and at one time
a clerk in the Navy Office, died in 1729, and was buried in the same
place. Confiscation and outlawry for their loyalty in the time of the
Commonwealth did much to scatter the worthy family to which Admiral
Benbow belonged; and the connections of it now extant are not many. A
grand-niece of the admiral, Mary, was married to Herbert Haselden, Esq.,
of the White House, county of Hereford, the head and representative of
an old Herefordshire family, and was great-grandmother of the present
representative, Herbert Howorth Wood, Esq., of the White House, near the
city of Hereford. Of the kindred of Admiral Benbow, was also the late
John Benbow, Esq., of Lincoln’s Inn, M.P. for Dudley, whose two sons are
the present Colonel Clifton Benbow, of Bath, and John Henry Benbow,
Esq., of Lincoln’s Inn.

Some accounts will have it that the remains of Admiral Benbow were
brought from Jamaica, and deposited in the cemetery of St. Nicholas
Church, Deptford; but that was not so, and no doubt the mistake has
arisen from his having rented from Evelyn, the author of “Sylva,” his
house, Sayes Court, Deptford; and from the fact of his two sons being
interred at St. Nicholas, Deptford. The admiral was buried in Jamaica,
and a monument was erected over him, which, according to one statement,
a hurricane since swept away.[7] Few visible marks, indeed, remain of
this brave admiral, beyond his portraits at Shrewsbury and in Greenwich
Hospital, and on inn signs, and beyond a descendant here and there,
still living, of his race. In my anxiety to clear up the doubts that
hang around the parentage and immediate kindred of the admiral, I, while
putting this article together, went down to St. Nicholas Church,
Deptford, and after viewing, in that handsome and interesting edifice,
the stone tablet with the almost effaced inscription (the arms are
unfortunately quite effaced) over the vault where lie the admiral’s two
sons, I wandered, with a friend who accompanied me, to the neighbouring
Sayes Court, once the property of Evelyn, and let by him to Admiral
Benbow, and to a still greater individual, the Czar Peter, when a
workman in Deptford dockyard. We reached the place through a hideous
labyrinth of streets, reeking with poverty, wretchedness, and dirt.
“Alas! if Evelyn saw his favourite mansion and garden now,” was the
thought that struck us both. Evelyn once wrote, “I let my house, Sayes
Court, near Deptford, on the 1st June, 1696, for three years, to Vice
Admiral Benbow, condition to keep up the garden;” and on the 18th of the
following January he further wrote: “I have let my house to Captain
Benbow, and have the mortification of seeing every day much of my former
labours and expense there impairing for want of a more polite tenant.”
Evelyn must have got the admiral out before the end of his term, for in
January, 1698, he had the Czar for a tenant, whom, while there, the
king, William III., came to visit, after having furnished the house for
him. The Czar proved even a more careless and less cleanly occupier than
the admiral. But to look at Sayes Court now! The free and easy way of
living, common to the rough seaman, and the rude northern potentate,
could not, in wildest mood, have contemplated such a condition. It has
gradually sunk from bad to worse; it has been a workhouse, and has
become too decayed and confined for even that. It is now attached to the
dockyard as a kind of police station and place for paying off the men.
The large hall, used for the latter purpose, was no doubt the scene of
many a jovial night spent by the admiral, and his successor, the Czar.
What remains of Evelyn’s garden is now a wilderness of weed and rank
grass, hemmed in by a dingy wall that shuts out some of the filthiest
dwellings imaginable. The avenue of hovels through which we passed from
this ruined abode of former greatness, bore the name of Czar Street,—a
last, lingering memento of the imperial visit. The illustrious Czar was
so great a man, that he could nowhere set his foot without leaving an
imprint behind. A monument to him is not needed; but it would have been
pleasing to have found in Deptford some memorial carved in brass or
stone of our gallant Benbow. Yet, after all, it matters not much, while
the British public, ever mindful of greatness in the British navy,
permits no oblivion to rest on his personal worth, his achievements, and
his fame.




            CAPTAIN KIDD, A PIRATE WITH A ROYAL COMMISSION.


Captain William Kidd, the hero of, as it may be called, this political
and nautical romance, was born in the town of Greenock, in Scotland, and
bred up for a seaman’s life. Having quitted his native country, he
resided at New York, where he became owner of a small vessel, with which
he traded among the pirates, and thus obtained a thorough knowledge of
their haunts, and could give a better account of them than any other
person whatever. He was a man not particularly remarkable for courage,
but very avaricious. He could never resist the tempting influence of the
rapid profits made by pirates, and to this was owing his connection with
them. While in their company, he used to converse and act as they did;
yet at other times he would make singular professions of honesty, and
intimate how easy a matter it would be to extirpate sea robbers, and
prevent their future depredations. His frequent remarks on this subject
engaged the notice of several considerable planters in the state of New
York, who, forming a more favourable opinion of him than his true
character would warrant, procured him the patronage with which he was
afterwards honoured. For a series of years complaints had been made of
the piracies committed in the West Indies, which had been greatly
encouraged by some of the inhabitants of North America, on account of
the advantage they derived from purchasing effects thus fraudulently
obtained. This coming to the knowledge of King William III., he, in the
year 1695, bestowed the government of New England and New York on his
devoted follower, Richard Coote, Earl of Bellamont, an Irish noble of
distinguished character and abilities, who immediately began to consider
of the most effectual method to redress the evils complained of, and
consulted with Colonel Levingston, a gentleman who had great property in
New York, on the most feasible steps to obviate the evils so long
complained of. At this juncture Captain Kidd, having made money at New
York, was sailing pompously about in a sloop of his own. The colonel
fixed on him as the very man needed, and mentioned him to Lord Bellamont
as a bold and daring personage, fit to be employed against the pirates,
especially as he was perfectly acquainted with the places they resorted
to. The plan met with the fullest approbation of his lordship, who
reported the affair to King William, and recommended it to the notice of
the Board of Admiralty. Yet such were then the hurry and confusion of
public affairs in that troubled reign, that, though the design was
approved of, no steps were taken towards carrying it into execution.
Accordingly, Colonel Levingston made application to Lord Bellamont, that
as the affair would not well admit of delay, it was worthy of being
undertaken by some private persons of rank and distinction, and carried
into execution at their own expense, notwithstanding State encouragement
was denied it. His lordship acceded to the project, and, after some
difficulties, the Lord Chancellor Somers, the Duke of Shrewsbury, the
Earl of Romney, the Earl of Orford, and some other high persons, with
Colonel Levingston and our gallant Captain Kidd himself, agreed to raise
£6,000 for the expense of the voyage; and the colonel and the captain
were to have a fifth of the profits of the whole undertaking. Matters
being so far adjusted, a royal commission in the usual form was granted
to Captain Kidd, to take and seize pirates, and bring them to justice;
but though a second commission was added, there was, beyond the general
direction not to molest the king’s friends, and to bring ships taken to
legal trial, no special clause or proviso to restrain his conduct, or
regulate the mode of his proceeding. Kidd was known to Lord Bellamont,
and another gentleman presented him to Lord Romney. With regard to the
rest of the parties concerned, he was wholly unacquainted with them; and
so ill was this affair conducted, that he had no private instructions
how to act, but received his sailing orders from Lord Bellamont, the
purport of which was, that he should act agreeably to the letter of his
commission. Behold Kidd now a great man bearing the commission of the
bellicose monarch of the Revolution, and with powers unbounded to crush
all piracy and robbery on the sea.

A ship was purchased and equipped in the port of London; it received the
name, which this affair made so known, of the _Adventure Galley_. In
this vessel Captain Kidd crossed the Atlantic, and then towards the
close of the year 1695 sailed from New York and made prize of a French
ship. Thence he went on to Madeira islands, to Bonavista, and St. Jago,
and to Madagascar, acting fairly enough at first; but the sight of so
many rich and defenceless merchant ships he met on his way was too
strong for him. He could not resist the temptation, and lo! he, the
authorised destroyer of pirates, turns pirate himself, and becomes a sea
robber with a royal commission. He prowled at the entrance of the Red
Sea, and, sailing to Calicut, he began a fearful career of crime by
taking a ship of one hundred and fifty tons burthen, which he carried to
Madagascar, and disposed of there. Having sold this prize he again put
to sea, and at the expiration of five weeks fell upon and seized the
_Quedagh Merchant_, a ship of four hundred tons burthen, the master of
which was an Englishman, named Wright, who had two Dutch mates on board,
and a French gunner; but the crew consisted of Moors, natives of Africa,
and were about ninety in number. Kidd carried this ship to St. Mary’s,
near Madagascar, where he burnt the _Adventure Galley_, belonging to his
owners, and divided the lading of the _Quedagh Merchant_ with his crew,
taking forty shares to himself. He and his crew then went on board the
_Quedagh Merchant_, and sailed for the West Indies. It is uncertain
whether the inhabitants of the West India islands knew that Kidd was a
pirate; but he was refused refreshments at Anguilla and St. Thomas’s,
and therefore sailed to Mona, between Porto Rico and Hispaniola, where,
through the management of an Englishman, named Bolton, he obtained a
supply of provisions from Curaçoa. He now bought a sloop of Bolton, in
which he stowed great part of his ill-gotten effects, and left the
_Quedagh Merchant_, with eighteen of the ship’s company, in Bolton’s
care. While at St. Mary’s, ninety men of Kidd’s crew left him, and went
on board the _Mocca Merchant_, an East India ship, which had just then
commenced pirate. Kidd sailed in the sloop, and touched at several
places, where he disposed of a great part of his cargo, and then steered
for Boston, in New England. In the interim Bolton sold the _Quedagh
Merchant_ to the Spaniards, and immediately sailed as a passenger in a
ship for Boston, where he arrived a considerable time before Kidd, and
gave to Lord Bellamont information of what had happened. Kidd,
therefore, on his arrival, was seized by order of his lordship, when all
he had to urge in his defence was, that he thought the _Quedagh
Merchant_ a lawful prize, as she was manned with Moors, though there was
no kind of proof that this vessel had committed any act of piracy. Upon
this, the Earl of Bellamont immediately despatched an account to England
of the circumstances that had arisen, and requested that a ship might be
sent for Kidd, who had committed several other notorious acts of piracy.
News in those days travelled slowly, but one may conceive the excitement
that arose in England when it became at length known that an adventure
in which the Lord Chancellor and other high men of the State were
shareholders, was being piratically carried on to the terror and ruin of
the peaceful merchant ships afloat, and the unoffending inhabitants of
coasts not at war with us. A perfect storm burst out against the
Government. “Was this to be the system of the king who had dethroned the
Stuarts in the name of justice to persons and protection to property?”
cried the Jacobites. “A strange revolution and for little purpose,”
thought the less ardent of the Whigs. Even the ultra followers of King
William stood aghast.

The Government met the uproar boldly, honestly, and determinedly.
Somers, who held the Great Seal so worthily, did not flinch for an
instant. It was resolved to treat Kidd as a common culprit, and to
subject him to a full and open trial, in which every particular would
come out. Meanwhile an inquiry was called for in the House of Commons,
and it was there moved, that “The letters patent, granted to Richard
Earl of Bellamont and others, of all goods taken from pirates, were
dishonourable to the king, against the law of nations, contrary to the
laws and statutes of this realm, an invasion of property, and
destructive to commerce.” After a long and stormy debate, the motion was
negatived by a majority of 13—the ayes being 185, the noes 198. In the
Lords, Lord Somers and the Earl of Orford refuted victoriously the
charge insinuated against them of giving countenance to pirates, and
showed that the Earl of Bellamont was as innocent as they were. A motion
was, however, carried in the Commons to address his majesty, that “Kidd
might not be tried till the next session of Parliament, and that the
Earl of Bellamont might be directed to send home all examinations and
other papers relative to the affair.” The king complied with the
request. As soon as Kidd arrived in England, he was sent for, and
examined at the bar of the House of Commons, with a view to fix part of
his guilt on the parties who had been concerned in sending him on the
expedition, but nothing arose to criminate any of those distinguished
persons. Kidd, who was actually in a state of semi-intoxication when he
came to the bar of the House, made there a very contemptible appearance,
on which a member, who had been one of the most earnest to have him
examined, violently exclaimed, “This fellow, I thought he had been only
a knave, but unfortunately he happens to be also a fool.”

The trials of Kidd and his companions came on at the Old Bailey in May,
1701. The proceedings were very lengthy, and consisted of several
distinct trials; the first was for murder against Kidd alone, the other
trials were for various acts of piracy committed by him and different
members of his crew. Kidd was found guilty in every case, and his men
mostly so in the trials in which they were included.

The charge of murder against Kidd was evidently brought to secure his
being capitally convicted, in case there might be acquittals on the
charges of piracy; however, the act itself was a very brutal one. The
victim of Kidd’s violence was William Moor, a gunner of his crew, whom
Kidd, after he had become a pirate, happened, when on board, in a moment
of anger to call “a dog.” “If I am a dog,” retorted Moor, “you have made
me so; yes, you have made me so; you have brought me to ruin and many
more.” Kidd, stung to madness by the reproach, seized a wooden bucket
hooped with iron, and struck Moor on the head with it. The blow was
fatal: the unfortunate creature was carried to the gun-room and died the
next day. On this charge, the jury found Kidd guilty of murder; and then
came on the chief trial, which interested all England, viz., that of
Kidd and nine of his crew, Nicholas Churchill, James Howe, Robert
Lamley, William Jenkins, Gabriel Loff, Hugh Parrot, Richard Barlicorn,
Alexander Owens, and Darby Mullins, for piracy and robbery on a ship
called the _Quedagh Merchant_.

There was a great judicial array on the Bench: the Judges were Sir
Edward Ward, Lord Chief Baron; Sir John Turton and Sir Henry Gould,
Judges of the Court of King’s Bench; Sir John Powell, a Judge of the
Court of Common Pleas: and Dr. Oxenden, Judge of the Admiralty. The
Solicitor-General, Sir John Hawles; Dr. Newton, Advocate for the
Admiralty; Mr. Cowper, M.P. (afterwards the great Lord Chancellor
Cowper); Mr. Coniers, and Mr. Knapp conducted the prosecution. Dr.
Oldish, Mr. Nixon, and Mr. Moxon were momentarily allowed to intervene
for Kidd and others; but this was only by indulgence, the barbarous
custom being then in full force of not allowing counsel for prisoners
charged with felony to act at all, unless on some admitted question of
law that might arise. However, for those times, the trial was pretty
fairly conducted, and bears a strong contrast to the judicial
investigations before the Revolution, and indeed to some that had
occurred immediately after.

As the speech of Dr. Newton, the counsel for the Admiralty, gave a full
summary of the whole of the affair, I extract from the State Trials his
address to the jury. He spoke as follows:—

“My lord and gentlemen,—The prisoner at the bar, Captain William Kidd,
late commander of the _Adventure Galley_, and nine other mariners in the
same vessel, stand indicted for feloniously and piratically assaulting
and taking a ship, called the _Quedagh Merchant_, on the high sea, near
Cutsheen, in the East Indies, about the 30th of January, in the ninth
year of his majesty’s reign: the ship was considerable for its force and
bulk, being above four hundred tons, and more considerable for its
lading, having on board to the value of many thousand pounds.

“This Captain Kidd, who thus acted the pirate himself, went from England
in April, 1696, with a commission, dated the 26th of January preceding,
to take and seize pirates in the Indian seas, which were very much and
very dangerously infested by them, to the great hazard and loss and ruin
of the merchant.

“The ship carried thirty guns, and there were on board about eighty men;
but the Captain being come from New York, in July, 1696, pretending, as
indeed it was designed he should, and he had undertaken to make that
design good, that he was going to Madagascar (which was the known and
common receptacle of the pirates in those seas) to take pirates, and
free the seas from those disturbers of the commerce of mankind; so many
came into him, being invited by articles publicly set up by him in that
place, that his number quickly increased to one hundred and fifty-five
men; a force sufficient, if he had meant well, to have made him useful
to the public; and to prove as mischievous, if his designs were
otherwise: and what those were will quickly appear.

“After calling in at several places for provisions, and, among others,
at Madagascar, in July, 1697, he sailed to Bob’s Key, a small island at
the entrance of the Red Sea, and a convenient station for the observing
what vessels went from thence to the Indies; and now, instead of taking
pirates, he becomes one himself, and the greatest and worst of all. He
stayed three weeks, in expectation of the Mocca fleet, to make his
benefit and his fortune out of it; for, whatever he had before
pretended, that was his real design, and now so possessed his mind, that
he could not refrain from declaring, and that often to his men, that now
he should make his voyage, and ballast his ship with gold and silver.
After long expectation the fleet, on the 14th of August, to the number
of fourteen, came by; he fell in with the middle of them, fired several
guns at them; but finding they had an English and a Dutch convoy, that
design happily failed of the wished-for success.

“This disappointment, however, did not discourage him, but that he
proceeded on for the coast of Malabar, where he knew the trade was
considerable, and hoped his advantage would be proportionable in the
disturbing it; and there accordingly, for several months, he committed
many great piracies and robberies, taking the ships and goods of the
Indians and others at sea, Moors and Christians, and torturing cruelly
their persons, to discover if anything had escaped his hands; burning
their houses, and killing after a barbarous manner the natives on the
shores, equally cruel, dreaded and hated both on the land and at sea.

“These criminal attempts and actions had rendered his name (to the
disgrace and the prejudice of the English nation) too well known, and
deservedly detested, in those remote parts of the world; and he was now
looked upon as an arch-pirate, and the common enemy of mankind; and
accordingly two Portuguese men-of-war went out in pursuit of him, and
one met with him and fought him for several hours, but Kidd’s fortune
reserved him for another manner of trial.

“Amongst the great number of vessels he took on that coast was the ship
he stands indicted for, the _Quedagh Merchant_, being then on a trading
voyage from Bengal to Surat, the commander English (Captain Wright), the
owners Armenian merchants, and others. He had taken Moors before, but
Moors and Christians are all alike to pirates; they distinguish not
nations nor religions. Those on board the vessels offered 30,000 rupees
for her ransom, but the ship was too considerable to be parted with even
for so great a sum, so Kidd sold goods out of her on the neighbouring
coast to the value of £10,000 or £12,000, out of which he took whatever
he could pretend to for ammunition and provisions, with forty shares for
himself, and the remainder was disposed of amongst the crew, and
particularly those who are here indicted with him, who accompanied him,
who assisted him throughout all his piracies, and who now, too, share
the spoils and the guilt with him.

“With this ship and another, and the remainder of the goods not sold on
the coast, he sailed once more for Madagascar, where he arrived in the
beginning of May, 1698, and there again what was left on board was
divided according to the same proportions, and amongst the same persons
as before, each mariner having about three bales to his share.

“It is not to be omitted that, at his return to Madagascar, there came
on board to him some persons from the ship the _Resolution_, formerly
the _Mocca_ frigate (for the piratically seizing of which vessel there
have been formerly trials and convictions in this place), of which
Captain Culliford, a notorious pirate, now in custody, and against whom
two bills have been found for piracy by the grand jury, was the
commander. They at first seem to have been afraid of Kidd, but without
any grounds, as his former actions had demonstrated, and the sequel
showed. They, who were hardened pirates, and long inured to villanies,
could scarce think that any man could so betray the trust and confidence
the public had placed in him, and said they thought he came to take and
hang them: but Captain Kidd assured them that he had no such design, and
that rather his soul should be lost than do them any harm; bid them not
be afraid, and swore he would be true to them; and here, indeed, he did
not break his word. This was his way of being true to his trust, and
making good the end of his commission, in acting with the greatest
treachery and the greatest falseness that ever man did; and to make all
that has been represented of him true, Captain Kidd and Captain
Culliford went on board, treated and presented each other; and, instead
of taking Culliford, as it was his duty to have done, and his force was
sufficient to have performed it, he gave him money and ammunition, two
great guns and shot, and other necessaries to fit him out to sea, that
he might be better able to take and seize other innocent persons.

“His own ship he now left, and went on board the _Quedagh Merchant_;
several of his men then went from him, but not as prisoners. They were
all along well-wishers and assistants to him, fought for him, divided
the plunder with him, and are now come to be tried with him.

“This, gentlemen, is the crime he is indicted for—piracy; the growing
trouble, disturbance, and mischief of the trading world and the
peaceable part of mankind, the scandal and reproach of the European
nations and the Christian name (I wish I could not say that the Kidds
and the Averys had not made it more particularly so among the English),
amongst Mahometans and Pagans in the extremest parts of the earth, which
turns not only to the disadvantage of the immediate sufferers, but of
all such as traffic in those countries, whether companies or single
merchants, who are to suffer for the misfortunes of others, with whom,
it may be, they have no dealings, and for the villanies of such, whom
they and all mankind equally and justly detest and abhor.

“This is the person that stands indicted at that bar, than whom no one
in this age has done more mischief, in this worst kind of mischief; or
has occasioned greater confusion and disorder, attended with all the
circumstances of cruelty and falsehood, and a complication of all manner
of ill.

“If, therefore, these facts should be proved upon him, you will then,
gentlemen, in finding him guilty, do justice to the injured world, the
English nation (our common country), whose interest and welfare so much
depend on the increase and security of trade; and, lastly, to
yourselves, whom the law has made judges of the fact.”


The evidence bore out this statement, and indeed the prisoners had no
defence on the facts (beyond Kidd’s urging falsely that the _Quedagh
Merchant_ sailed under a French pass), but three of them—Howe,
Churchill, and Mullins—put forward a plea that they were entitled to the
king’s pardon, as they had surrendered themselves on a proclamation of
the king’s gracious pardon to such pirates, except Kidd, as gave
themselves up. They had certainly so surrendered themselves, but the
crown lawyers objected that they had not surrendered to the actual
commissioners appointed to carry out the proclamation. Mr. Moxon for the
prisoner Churchill thus put the point:—

“My lord, about the year 1698, there was a special commission given to
four persons, and they were to proceed in their voyage to the Indies,
and they carried a great number of proclamations, that all the pirates
in such and such places should surrender themselves. Now they came to
St. Helena with them, and Captain Warren was sent to St. Mary’s, and he
was to deliver some of these proclamations there, and the commissioner
had then the ambassador to the Great Mogul on board, and this Captain
Warren these proclamations. Warren comes and delivers the proclamations
out, and, among the rest the prisoner at the bar having notice of this,
he goes to the governor, and confesses he had been a pirate, and desired
them to take notice that he surrendered himself; and we have the
governor of St. Mary’s here to give an account of this matter.”

_Lord Chief Baron Ward._—“The proclamation says, They must surrender
themselves to such and such persons by name: see if it be so. [Then the
proclamation was read again.] Here are several qualifications mentioned;
you must bring yourselves under them, if you would have the benefit of
it.”

_Dr. Newton._—“Let them show that they surrendered themselves to the
persons they were to surrender to.”

_Mr. Moxon._—“My lord, we will prove we gave notice within the time, by
this paper.”

_Solicitor-General_ (Sir John Hawles).—“There is no time mentioned in
it. [The affidavit was read.] Charles Hally, gent., maketh oath, that in
the year 1698, there being notice of his majesty’s gracious pardon to
such pirates as should surrender themselves, James Howe, Nicholas
Churchill, and Darby Mullins, in May, 1699, did surrender themselves to
Jeremiah Bass, governor of St. Mary’s, and he did admit them to bail.”

_Lord Chief Baron Ward._—“There were four commissioners named in the
proclamation: there is no governor mentioned that is to receive them,
only those four commissioners.”

_Mr. Moxon._—“But, my lord, consider the nature of this proclamation,
and what was the design of it, which was to invite pirates to come in.”

_Mr. Coniers._—“We must keep you to the proclamation: here is not enough
to put off the trial.”

_Lord Chief Baron Ward._—“If you had brought yourselves within the case
of the proclamation, we should be very glad: you that offer it must
consider it is a special proclamation, with divers limitations; and if
you would have the benefit of it, you must bring yourselves under the
conditions of it. Now, there are four commissioners named, that you
ought to surrender to; but you have not surrendered to any one of these,
but to Colonel Bass, and there is no such name mentioned in this
proclamation.”

This was, after all, but a legal quibble on the part of the crown, and
the king at least should have interfered (which he certainly did not for
Mullins) to save from death prisoners who had thus surrendered.

On Kidd’s urging that he acted under a royal commission, Mr. Justice
Powell properly observed to the jury, “I understand, that he had a
commission; therefore if any one has a commission, and he acts according
to it, he is not a pirate; but if he takes a commission for a colour,
that he may be a pirate, it will be bad indeed: and therefore, if the
crown can prove that he was a pirate all along, this will be a great
evidence against him.”

Lord Chief Baron Ward summed up the case to the jury, and his address to
them is so complete a _résumé_ of the facts proved by the witnesses, and
so lucid a statement of the law of piracy and felony touching the case,
that I cannot do better than give his lordship’s entire speech. It was
as follows:—

_Lord Chief Baron Ward._—“Gentlemen of the jury,—The prisoners at the
bar, William Kidd, Nicholas Churchill, James Howe, Robert Lamley,
William Jenkins, Gabriel Loff, Hugh Parrot, Richard Barlicorn, Abel
Owens, and Darby Mullins, in number ten, stand all here indicted for the
crime of piracy, charged to be committed by them. And the instance of
the crime is for feloniously and piratically seizing and taking the ship
called the _Quedagh Merchant_, with the apparel and tackling thereof, to
the value of £400, and divers goods mentioned in the indictment to the
value of £4,500, the goods of several persons unknown, from the mariners
of the said ship, and this at high sea, within the jurisdiction of the
Court of Admiralty, about ten leagues from Cutsheen in the East Indies,
the 30th of January, 1697, and in the eighth year of her Majesty’s
reign. Now, whether all, and any, and which of these prisoners are
guilty of this crime of piracy laid in this indictment, or not guilty,
it is your part to determine according to the evidence given on both
sides. The crime charged on them is piracy, that is, seizing and taking
this ship and goods in it, piratically and feloniously: the time and
place is also laid in the indictment. To make good this accusation, the
king’s counsel have produced their evidence, and two witnesses have been
examined in this case; each of them were in the ship which took the
_Quedagh Merchant_, and very well acquainted with all the proceedings;
that is, Robert Brandinham and Joseph Palmer. The first has given you an
historical account of the whole proceedings of Captain Kidd, from his
first going out of England in the _Adventure Galley_, to the time of
this fact charged on them. They tell you, that about May, 1696, the king
entrusted this Captain Kidd with two commissions, and they were both
read to you. By one of them under the Admiralty seal, he was authorised
to set out as a privateer the _Adventure Galley_, and therewith to take
and seize the ships and goods belonging to the French king, or his
subjects, and such other as were liable to confiscation. And by the
other commission, under the broad seal of England, authority was given
for the taking of some pirates by name, and all other pirates in the
several places therein mentioned; but in no sort to offend or molest any
of the king’s friends or allies, their ships or subjects, by colour
thereof. And by both commissions command was given to bring all such
ships and goods, as should be taken, to legal trials and condemnations.
They tell us that this ship set out from Plymouth about May, 1696, and
that in their passage they did take a French ship, and they did condemn
that ship. Now, gentlemen, you must bear this in your minds, that to
make it piracy, it must be the taking piratically and feloniously upon
the high sea, within the jurisdiction of the Admiralty of England, the
goods of a friend—that is, such as are in amity with the king. Now, you
see what way they went to work, and what measures they took. Captain
Kidd goes out, and goes to New York; and when he was there, he has a
project in his head, of setting up articles between himself and the
people that were willing to be concerned with him: for now, whether it
seems more probable from what followed, that Captain Kidd designed to
manage himself according to the measures given him, and the powers of
his commissions, or any other way, you must consider: for it is told
you, that between one hundred and fifty and one hundred and sixty men
came in under these articles, whereof the other prisoners were part, and
concerned in them. And as to those articles, the import of them was,
that whatever should be taken by these people in their expeditions
should be divided into one hundred and sixty parts, whereof Captain Kidd
was to have forty shares for his part, and the rest were to have
according to the merits of each party, some whole shares, and some half
shares.

“Now, after these articles, you perceive what progress they made, and
what course they took; they went from one place to another, and used a
great deal of severity wherever they came. A design they had to go into
the Red Sea, and they had expectations of the Mocca fleet that lay at
Mocca, and they sent their spies three times to get intelligence: the
two first times they could make no discovery; but the third time they
made an effectual discovery that the fleet was ready to sail; and in the
meantime Captain Kidd lay there in expectation of this fleet; and as the
first witness tells you, Captain Kidd said, he intended to make a voyage
out of this fleet. Well, he had a discovery of this fleet, and they came
accordingly; and they tell you, that he and his men did attack one of
the ships; but these ships being guarded by two men-of-war, he could
make nothing of them; however, he showed what his intention and design
was. Could he have proved that what he did was in pursuance of his
commissions, it had been something; but what had he to do to make any
attack on these ships, the owners and freighters whereof were in amity
with the king? This does not appear to be an action suitable to his
commissions. After he had done this, he came to land, and there, and
afterwards at sea, pursued strange methods, as you have heard. The
seeming justification he depends on is his commissions. Now it must be
observed how he acted with relation to them, and what irregularities he
went by. He came to a place in the Indies, and sent his cooper ashore,
and that cooper was killed by the natives; and he uses barbarity, and
ties an Indian to a tree, and shoots him to death. Now he went from
place to place, and committed hostilities upon several ships, dealing
very severely with the people.

“But this being something foreign to the indictment, and not the facts
for which the prisoners at the bar are indicted, we are confined to the
_Quedagh Merchant_; but what he did before shows his mind and intention
not to act by his commissions, which warrant no such things. Gentlemen,
you have an account, that he met with this ship, the _Quedagh Merchant_,
at sea, and took her; that this ship belonged to people in amity with
the king of England; that he seized this ship, and divers goods were
taken out of her and sold, and the money divided pursuant to the heads
contained in those articles set up in New York. The witnesses that speak
to that come home to every one of the prisoners; they tell you that the
dividend was made; that Captain Kidd had forty shares of the money, and
the rest of the prisoners had their proportions according to the
articles, some a whole share, and some a half share of that money. After
they had seized the ship, you hear of a certain sort of project, that a
Frenchman should come and pretend himself the master, and procure, or
pretend to procure a French pass, under a colour that these people’s
ship and goods, who were Moors, should be Frenchmen’s ship and goods, or
sailed under a French pass, and so justify what he did under the colour
of his commission from the king. Now, no man knows the mind and
intentions of another, but as it may be discovered by his actions. If he
would have this to be understood to be his intention, or that it was in
reality, that he took this as a French ship, or under a French pass,
then he ought to have had the ship and goods inventoried, and condemned
according to law, that he might have had what portion belonged to him,
and that the king might have had what belonged to him, as his
commissions directed; but here was nothing of that done, but the money
and goods which were taken were shared, and you have an account likewise
how some of the goods were sold, and the money disposed of, and how the
remaining goods were disposed of; and one witness speaks positively of
the distribution of the goods that remained unsold, that they were
divided according to the same proportions as the articles mentioned, and
every one of the prisoners had his share: there belonged forty shares to
Captain Kidd, and shares and half-shares to the rest.

“Now, this is the great case that is before you, on which the indictment
turns: the ship and goods, as you have heard, are said by the witness to
be the goods of Armenians, and other people that were in amity with the
king; and Captain Kidd would have them to be the goods of Frenchmen, or,
at least, that the ship was sailed under French passes. Now, if that
were so, as Captain Kidd says, it was a lawful prize, and liable to
confiscation; but if they were the goods of persons in amity with the
king, and the ship was not navigated under French passes, it is very
plain it was a piratical taking of them. Gentlemen, it is to be
considered what evidence Captain Kidd hath given to prove that ship and
goods to belong to the French king, or his subjects, or that the ship
was sailed under a French pass, or, indeed, that there was a French pass
shown or seen. He appeals indeed to the witnesses over and over again,
Did you never see it? No, say they. Nor did not you, saith he, say you
saw it? No, said the witness, I said that Captain Kidd said he had a
French pass, but I never saw it. Now, after all, the taking the _Quedagh
Merchant_ is brought down to Mr. Kidd, and the prisoners with others,
and the distribution of the money procured by the sale of the goods
among Mr. Kidd and his crew, whereof every one of the prisoners were
present at the same time, and had proportions.

“Now, gentlemen, this must be observed: If this was a capture on the
high sea, and these were the goods of persons in amity with the king,
and had no French pass, then it is plain piracy. And if you believe the
witnesses, here is the taking of the goods and ships of persons in
amity, and converting them to their own use; such a taking at land as
this would be felony, and being at sea it will be piracy; for this is a
taking the ship from the right owners, and turning it to their own use.
So that you have evidence as to the seizing of the ship, and dividing
the money rising from the goods sold, and sharing the remainder
according to the articles.

“Now, what does Captain Kidd say to all this? He has told you he acted
pursuant to his commission; but that cannot be, unless he gives you
satisfaction that the ship and goods belonged to the French king, or his
subjects, or that the ship had a French pass; otherwise neither of them
will excuse him from being a pirate; for if he takes the goods of
friends he is a pirate: he had no authority for that; there is no colour
from either of his commissions for him to take them. And as to the
French passes, there is nothing of that appears by any proof, and for
aught I can see, none saw them but himself, if there were ever any. It
is proved that the people that were owners of the goods made him very
large offers to redeem the ship (twenty thousand rupees, as I remember);
but he would not accept their proposals, but said, ‘That is a small sum;
the cargo is worth a great deal more,’ or to that effect: and further
said, ‘he must answer these people, that his men will not part with it:’
and a Frenchman was to be set up for a mock business, as you have heard;
and if the witness say true, they were said by the captain of the ship
to be, and were reputed to be, the ship and goods of friends, and not of
enemies; and if they were so, and had no French pass, then is he, and
those that were concerned with him, guilty of piratically taking this
ship, and of piratically seizing the goods in the ship; and neither of
his commissions will justify such an action as this. If he had acted
pursuant to his commission, he ought to have condemned the ship and
goods, if they were a French interest, or sailed under a French pass:
but by his not condemning them, he seems to show his aim, mind, and
intention, that he did not act in that case by virtue of his commission,
but quite contrary to it; for he takes the ship, and shares the money
and goods, and is taken in that very ship by my Lord Bellamont, and he
had continued in that ship till that time;[8] so there is no colour or
pretence appears that he intended to bring this ship to England to be
condemned, or to have condemned it in any of the English plantations,
having disposed of the whole cargo as aforesaid. Here I must leave it to
you to consider whether, according to the evidence that appears, there
is any ground for him to say he has acted by his commission in taking
the _Quedagh Merchant_ and goods in her, or whether he has not acted
contrary thereto.

“Now, for himself, he has called some persons here to give an account of
his reputation, and of his services done in the West Indies; and one of
them says, about ten or twelve years he did good service there. Why, so
he might and might have, and it is very like he had such reputation when
the king trusted him with these commissions, else I believe he had never
had them; so, that whatever he might have been so many years ago, that
is not a matter to be insisted on now, but what he hath been since, and
how he hath acted in this matter charged against him: so that,
gentlemen, as to Mr. Kidd, I must leave to you, whether he is guilty of
piracy or no. If you believe him guilty upon the evidence, you will find
him so; if not, you will acquit him.

“Now, for the other prisoners, it is proved they were all concerned in
taking and sharing the ship and goods in the indictment, yet their
circumstances differ pretty much among themselves. There are three of
them, that it has been made out to you, and owned by the king’s
witnesses, that they were servants, Robert Lamley, William Jenkins,
Richard Barlicorn. All these are made out to be servants, and you have
had the indentures of two of them produced, and the king’s witnesses
prove them so, and they were admitted to be servants. Now, gentlemen,
there must go an intention of the mind, and a freedom of the will, to
the committing of a felony or piracy. A pirate is not to be understood
to be under constraint, but a free agent, for in this case the bare act
will not make him guilty, unless the will make it so. Now a servant, it
is true, if he go voluntarily, and have his proposition, he must be
accounted a pirate, for then he acts upon his own account, and not by
compulsion. And these persons, according to the evidence, received their
part; but whether they accounted to their masters for their shares
afterwards, yea or no, as they pretend, but make no proof of it, I must
leave that to you; and therefore there is a consideration to be had of
them: for if these men did go under the compulsion of their masters, to
whom they were servants, and not voluntarily, and upon their own
accounts, it may difference their case from others, who went and acted
willingly in this matter, and upon their own accounts. So that as to
those that were servants under the command of their masters, that were
present with them, I must leave it to you, whether you will distinguish
between them and the others, that were not servants, but free agents. It
is true, that a servant is not bound to obey his master but in lawful
things, which they say they thought this was, and that they knew not to
the contrary, but that their masters acted according to the King’s
commission; and therefore their case must be left to your consideration,
whether you think them upon the whole matter guilty or no. If you
believe them guilty, you will find them so; otherwise you will acquit
them.

“For the other persons, some of them pretend they came in on his
majesty’s proclamation, and for that you must consider the evidence, and
take it altogether, and consider whether you are satisfied by what they
have said or proved, that they have brought themselves within the
benefit of the king’s favour by that proclamation. You have heard it
read, and observed the qualifications and directions by it, and the
terms upon which the pardon was promised, which are not made out to you,
to be complied with by them; they may apply another way for the king’s
mercy; this court must proceed according to the rules of law and
justice: but then all of them hold on this; we were, say they, under the
captain, and acted under him as their commander: and, gentlemen, so far
as they acted under his lawful commands, and by virtue and in pursuance
of his commissions, it must be admitted they were justifiable, and ought
to be justified: but how far forth that hath been, the actions of their
captain and their own will best make it appear. It is not contested, but
that these men knew, and were sensible of what was done and acted, and
did take part in it, and had the benefit of what was taken shared
amongst them; and if the taking of this ship and goods was unlawful,
then these men can claim no advantage by these commissions, because they
had no authority by them to do what they did, and acted quite contrary
to them. What had they to do to enter into such articles, and to act as
they did? You must consider the evidence given here, according to the
rules of the law; and if you are satisfied that they have knowingly and
willfully been concerned or partaken with Captain Kidd in taking this
ship, and dividing the goods, and that piratically and feloniously, then
they will be guilty within this indictment. It is worthy of
consideration what appears upon the evidence, that they met with one
reputed to be a notorious pirate, called Culliford; he was esteemed an
arch-pirate, and known to be so; yet this Captain Kidd that was
commissioned to take pirates, instead of taking him, grows to such an
intimacy with him, that he said he would have his soul lost before he
would hurt him, or to that effect, and so they made presents one to
another; and Captain Kidd left three of his men with him. Whilst men
pursue their commissions they must be justified; but when they do things
not authorised, or never acted by them, it is as if there had been no
commission at all. I have distinguished the evidence as well as my
memory serves me, and must leave it to you to determine upon the whole
matter, who are guilty, and who are not. And such as you are satisfied
to be guilty, you will find so, and such as you are not satisfied to be
guilty you will acquit.”

The jury, after half an hour’s consultation, brought in all the
prisoners guilty, except Lamley, Jenkins, and Barlicorn, whom, as being
servants, they acquitted.

A second trial of the same ten persons for a further act of piracy had
the same result. Further indictments were gone into, in which men of the
name of Culliford (Captain Culliford, the pirate already mentioned),
Hickman, and Eldridge were included. Culliford and Hickman pleaded
guilty, and Eldridge was found guilty. The result of the whole
proceedings was, that a law point being raised in favour of Culliford,
judgment against him was respited, and Dr. Oxenden pronounced sentence
of death upon Kidd, Churchill, Howe, Loff, Parrot, Owens, Mullins,
Hickman, and Eldridge.


Kidd was executed with one of his companions, Darby Mullins, an
Irishman, at Execution Dock, on the 23rd of May, 1701. After Kidd had
been tied up to the gallows, the rope broke, and he fell to the ground;
but being immediately tied up again, the Ordinary, who had before
exhorted him, desired to speak with him once more; and on this second
application, entreated him to make the most useful care of the few
farther moments thus providentially allotted him for the final
preparation of his soul to meet its important change. These exhortations
seemed to have the wished-for effect; and he was left, professing his
charity to all the world, and his hopes of salvation through the merits
of his Redeemer. Some others of the men sentenced were also executed.




           SOLDIERS AND CIVILIANS IN THE TIME OF WILLIAM III.


The years 1693, 1694, and 1695, formed the gloomiest period of that
troubled time which followed the Revolution of 1688. King William III.,
and Queen Mary, the latter of whom was to die before the last days of
1694 closed in, had, no doubt, firm possession of the throne, but, as
regarded a great portion of their subjects, it was but an armed
possession. Military force everywhere restrained the suppressed wrath of
the Jacobites, and even was of use to check the puritanical
dissatisfaction of those ultra Whigs who thought the Government had not
gone far enough in the cause of revolution. Soldiers, garrisons, and
forts full of troops so abounded throughout the length and breadth of
the land, that the new constitutional monarchy had curiously all the
aspect of a military despotism. Everywhere, too, King William’s forces
were then unpopular. The defeats of Cape St. Vincent, Landen, Marsaglia,
and Brest had lessened the public faith—even the faith of those who
supported the revolution—in the effective strength of the British
soldiers and sailors. Discontent prevailed much throughout England, and
plot upon plot was formed against the very life of the monarch. But if
this was the state of things in England, it was far worse in Scotland.
There the king’s troops were actually objects of extreme hate and
execration with the great mass of the populace. The foul massacre of
Glencoe, one of the worst of crimes for a Government to commit, had
enraged the people of Scotland, and had brought undue weight against the
reforming and would-be-salutary rule of King William. His troops,
wherever garrisoned in the Scottish territory, were constantly insulted,
and frequently violently assaulted. Conflicts of the most deadly kind
occurred between them, and the civilians, not only of the lower class,
but of better station and official position. The frequent fatal results
gave rise to many life-and-death criminal trials; and from these I take
the two following, which made a sensation at the time, and are recorded
by Arnot; they are peculiarly characteristic of the terrible discord
that existed.


The first of these trials, which occurred in December, 1694, was that of
John Gillespie, merchant in Glasgow; John Anderson of Dovehill; and
Robert Stevenson, glazier in Glasgow, for the murder of Major James
Menzies. The unfortunate major, the subject of the judicial
investigation, was clearly a person of importance, for, by the
prosecution, it appears that he was related to the eminent family of
Fletcher of Salton, in Haddingtonshire. The prisoners, in effect, were
proceeded against at the triple instance of William Fletcher (afterwards
himself of Salton), brother to the Laird of Salton (the celebrated
statesman and writer, Andrew Fletcher), nearest of kin to the deceased;
of Lieutenant-Colonel Hume, for the interest of his majesty’s forces,
and of his majesty’s Advocate. It was charged in the indictment, that
the prisoners having conceived mortal hatred at the deceased, did, on
the 19th of October preceding, enter a garden upon the lands of
Rainfield, where they understood the deceased was walking, and, upon
seeing him, they, or one or other of them, did discharge guns and
pistols at him, and also struck him a blow on the head, which fractured
his skull, of one or other of which wounds he instantly expired—or, at
least, they were guilty of art and part of this murder.

The defence stated for the prisoners was, that, in October last, in
absence of the colonel and lieutenant-colonel, Lord Lindesay’s regiment,
then quartered at Glasgow, was commanded by the deceased, Major Menzies;
that the major summarily apprehended several inhabitants, burgesses of
Glasgow, and kept them in custody of the military on pretence of their
being deserters, but who were really not such; that complaint having
been made to the magistrates by the persons confined, they desired the
major to bring those persons before them, that the complaint might be
tried conform to the act of Privy Council, 16th December, 1692, but the
major absolutely refused to comply with their desire. The magistrates
issued a formal edict, requiring him to produce the complainers; but
this also he treated with the most pointed contempt. Proceeding then
with utmost gentleness, they demanded a conference, to which the major
having consented, the provost, two of the baillies, and Mr. Robert Park,
town clerk, met with Major Menzies, and three captains of his regiment,
in the town clerk’s chamber. The conference began with the provost
desiring of the major that the prisoners might be brought before them,
and Mr. Park, the town clerk, in a very civil manner, joined in the
request. Upon this, an altercation between the major and town clerk took
place; the major gave him bad language, and struck him with a cane, he,
the town clerk, having no weapon in his hand. On this they wrestled, and
being separated by the company, and while the town clerk was held by
Captain Jarvais, of Lord Lindesay’s regiment, the major drew his sword,
and run the town clerk through the body, of which he died instantly. The
major marched off sword in hand, repaired to the guard-house, ordered
his men to charge their muskets, drew them up across the street, three
file deep, and set them to guard the passes in order to favour his
escape, mounted horse, and fled.

Upon this, Mr. Francis Montgomery, one of the lords of Privy Council,
ordered such of the inhabitants as could be soonest got ready to pursue
and apprehend the murderer. In obedience to this order, the three
prisoners went in pursuit of the major, came to a garden at Rainfield,
where they were informed he skulked. On coming up to him they charged
him with the murder of the town clerk, and desired him to yield himself
prisoner; but this he refused, and opposed them with a drawn sword, upon
which he was killed. Various arguments in point of law were also offered
for the prisoners, and much casuistry was likewise advanced for the
prosecutors. These debates occupy fifty pages folio of the original
criminal record.

The court sustained the indictment against the prisoners, as relevant to
infer the pain of death. But they also sustained this defence as
sufficient entirely to cast the indictment, viz., that they pursued the
major by order of a privy councillor, or of the magistrates of Glasgow,
proceeding upon the notoriety of the murder, unless the prosecutors
should prove that the major offered to surrender before attacked by the
prisoners. This again they sustained relevant to set aside the defence,
in respect to such of the prisoners only as did actually kill or give
command to kill the major, but by no means to infer art and part against
any of the other prisoners, they being _versantes in licito_.

The proofs were as follow:—

Robert Pollock, younger, of Milnbourne, deposed: He was at Rainfield on
the 19th of October last, where he saw the three prisoners, but none of
them had arms except Dovehill, who had a carabine, but it was not he who
killed the major, for the former was standing with the witness at the
garden door when they heard the shot. Upon going up to the place, they
saw the major lying on his back, dead, his face bleeding, and a drawn
sword in his hand across his breast. Afterwards, when they came to
Renfrew, he heard the prisoner (Gillespie) acknowledge he shot the
major; but the witness did not see him have any fire-arms in his hand,
nor did he see Gillespie either receive from or return any fire-arms to
Dovehill. When Gillespie first acknowledged that he shot the major, he
did not speak of the latter’s having made any resistance; but after he
was taken into custody, he declared that, if he had not done the thing
he did, the major would have run him through the body.

Peter Paterson, late baillie of Renfrew, went with the three prisoners
into the garden of Rainfield the night Major Menzies was killed; it is
uncertain whether all of the prisoners had arms, only that Dovehill had
one or two pistols. He did not see Dovehill give a pistol to Gillespie;
but, after the major was killed, saw Gillespie deliver a pistol to
Dovehill, saying, “There is your pistol,” Dovehill and young Milnbourne,
a former witness, stood at the garden-door, while the deponent going
forward with the other two prisoners (Gillespie and Stevenson) came up
with the major, and one of them said to the deponent, “Baillie, here is
a man.” The man called out, “What is the matter, sir?” to which the
witness answered, “There was a man slain in Glasgow; that the slayer was
supposed to be skulking hereabout; and if you be the man, God Almighty
forgive you.” The person replied, “It is none of your business.” One of
the prisoners then called out, “Dovehill, here is the man.” The major
cried with an oath, “What have the rascals to do with me?” immediately
drew his sword, and advanced upon them in great rage. The deponent and
the prisoners retreated. He then heard a shot, but knows not whether it
came from Gillespie or Stevenson. When he returned, he saw the major
lying on his back, dead, and his sword in his hand lying across his
breast.

Captain Jarvais, of Lord Lindesay’s regiment, a witness adduced for the
prisoners, was present at the conference between the Provost of Glasgow
and Major Menzies. He heard the major call the town clerk “a fool,” and
the clerk answered him, “he was but an ass.” Upon this the major struck
the clerk over the head with his cane, and the clerk returned a very
severe blow with his fist. The company separated them, and the major
drew his sword, made a thrust at the clerk, who immediately cried out he
was wounded, and clapped his hand on the wound; and as he was going to
another room, the deponent saw the clerk fall and lie on the floor. The
witness went to the guard-house, and found the major was fled. The clerk
had no arms.

Simon Tennent, one of the baillies of Glasgow, heard the major call the
town clerk “a fool,” and the town clerk called the major “an ass;” saw
the major strike the former with his cane. The parties then grappled,
and were separated, when the deponent saw the glance of a sword pointed
towards the clerk, who immediately cried out, “A surgeon!” and died in
about seven minutes. He was told by all the company it was the major who
killed the clerk; and the latter, at the time of his death, had no arms,
not even a staff, in his hand.

James Gemmill, jun., merchant in Glasgow, on the day Mr. Park was
killed, saw the major come out of his, the town clerk’s chamber, in
haste, wanting his wig, and his sword drawn; saw him wipe his sword with
the flap of his coat and return it into its scabbard. Before the major
could arrive at the guard-house, whither he was going, the deponent
heard that the clerk was wounded, and then was told he was dead.

Captain Lindesay, of Lord Lindesay’s regiment, was present at the
scuffle between Major Menzies and the town clerk; saw the major’s arm in
the attitude of pushing with a sword; and immediately after the lounge
the clerk cried he was wounded. The former left the room without his
wig; the deponent took up the wig and followed, accompanying the major
to the Gorballs, where he took horse and fled.

William Napier, provost of Glasgow, was in the town clerk’s chamber the
day he was killed. Upon the notoriety of the murder and flight, he gave
orders to the three prisoners to pursue and apprehend the major. Mr.
Francis Montgomery, one of the Lords of Privy Council, deposed that, on
the day of the murder, he was applied to by the provost and magistrates
of Glasgow, to concur with them in securing the peace of the city, which
was in an uproar. The deponent went to the town clerk’s chamber, whose
dead body he found lying on the floor, and everybody crying that Major
Menzies was the murderer. The deponent concurred with the magistrates,
in ordering Dovehill, then in the room, to take some of the honest
townsfolk along with him, and to pursue and apprehend the murderer; upon
which the people dispersed peaceably.

The jury unanimously found the indictment not proved; found the
prisoners’ defence in terms of the interlocutor not proved; and found it
not proved that the major offered to surrender himself; upon which the
prisoners were dismissed from the bar.

This prosecution, ending very properly as it did, shows to what extent
hot blood existed between soldier and civilian, when a gentleman of the
major’s rank and position could, in so trifling a quarrel, on the
instant, kill an unarmed official, on duty in his chamber. The major and
his regiment must have, no doubt, been goaded to madness by the
continual worry and insult of the populace, of which system of annoyance
a notable specimen appears in this further trial, relating also to the
same Lord Lindesay’s regiment.

The trial, that of a writer in Edinburgh, one George Cumming, for the
murder of Patrick Falconer, soldier in Lord Lindesay’s regiment,
occurred in Edinburgh in October, 1695.

The indictment set forth, that the prisoner, being in the streets of
Portsburgh, a suburb of Edinburgh, on the 5th of the preceding month of
September, between nine and ten at night, the deceased, Patrick
Falconer, and two other soldiers of Lord Lindesay’s regiment, walked
peaceably by him, in the way to their quarters, when the prisoner gave
the soldiers opprobrious language, and, without any just provocation,
drew his sword, with which he maliciously run the deceased through the
body, of which he died within twenty-four hours.

The proofs were as follow:—

James Porteous, apothecary in Edinburgh, deposed that, in the beginning
of September last, he was one evening in the streets of Portsburgh,
between nine and ten o’clock, in company with three other persons, of
whom the prisoner was one. The prisoner went to a house to call for his
cloak, and the deceased, with two other soldiers, came up with the
deponent and his companions, who asked of them what o’clock it was. He
cannot be positive what answer they made; but the prisoner, who was a
little way behind them, called the soldiers foul names. The soldiers
asked what he said, and he repeated the words, calling at the same time
to his companions to beat the soldiers. The soldiers then drew their
bayonets, passed by the deponent and his companions, and went up to the
prisoner, who advanced to them, and, when he was within sword’s length
of them, drew it, and within a quarter of an hour the deponent heard one
cry “Murder!” That same evening he called at the prisoner’s lodging,
whom he found in deep concern, declaring that he had given the soldier a
stab and he was afraid that it would prove mortal. At the same time he
drew his sword, and spit upon it, endeavouring to wipe the blood off it.
The prisoner came next morning to the deponent’s chamber, told him he
had been at Lauriston (the estate and castle of the famous John Law,
near Edinburgh), and there was very bad news: the soldier was dead.

John Hall, writer in Edinburgh, was returning from the country one
evening in the beginning of September, with the prisoner and other two
comrades. When they came nigh the West Port, the prisoner went to a
house for his cloak. In the meantime three soldiers came up with the
defendant and his companions. He cannot be sure what answer the soldiers
made when asked what o’clock it was; but the prisoner called out to
them, “You rascals, what answer is that to give to gentlemen?” On this
the soldiers drew their bayonets, passed the witness, and went up to the
prisoner. In a little he heard the clashing, and saw the glancing of
swords, upon which he went up to the combatants, and relieved the
prisoner of one of the soldiers with whom he was engaged, and very soon
after he heard one cry “Murder!” He then went off, and on his way he
called at the house of one Widow Lindsay, who told him that the prisoner
had been there with his sword drawn, and had left word that he had gone
home, whither the witness followed him. He found him sitting pensive and
exceeding sorrowful, expressing his fears that the soldier had got a
mortal wound. One deponent saw blood on his sword, went with him next
day to Lauriston, and, when they heard that the soldier was dead, the
prisoner clapped his hand on his thigh and was greatly agitated.

Two surgeons swore that they found the deceased run through the body
with a small sword; that the wound was mortal, and he died of it the
next day.

The jury found the pannel guilty of manslaughter. The Court sentenced
him to be hanged, and his personal estate to be forfeited.

This was certainly a harsh sentence, for the prisoner was clearly not
guilty of that killing which amounted to and merited the penalty of
murder; and so Mr. Arnot thinks; for in his work he observes on this
trial, that “to condemn an innocent man to death by the sentence and
forms of law has been looked upon as one of the greatest of moral
evils.”

It is satisfactory to find that in a few years after this gloomy period
a better feeling arose between civilians and the military in England and
Scotland. The splendid victories of Marlborough brought back the old
_prestige_ that attached to British troops, and made the people again
look on them, in the light they have ever since done, as the gallant and
glorious supporters of the might and fame of the British empire.




                       THE TRIAL OF ADMIRAL BYNG.


The Hon. John Byng, an Admiral R.N., was the scion of a family already
of high public reputation, when it was rendered illustrious in our naval
annals by this admiral’s father, whose services to his country should
have at least saved his son from the extreme measure of severity which
was so cruelly and so unfairly dealt out to him.

This family, the Byngs of Kent, whose brilliant achievements on sea and
land obtained for them a viscountcy and an earldom, both still
existing—those of Torrington and Strafford—is of ancient origin, and was
of note as far back as the reign of Henry VII. One member of the House,
Dr. Robert Byng, was vice-chancellor of the University of Cambridge in
the time of Queen Elizabeth; and another, Thomas Byng, serjeant-at-law,
was counsel to the same university. George Byng, Esq., of Wrotham, Kent,
was M.P. for Rochester, and subsequently for Dover, in the reigns of
Queen Elizabeth and James I. He was great-grandfather of Sir George
Byng, the illustrious admiral, the father of John Byng, the unfortunate
subject of this trial. Admiral Sir George Byng, the hero of the Battle
of Cape Passara, and of many other hard-fought and successful
engagements, well deserves a niche in our naval temple of fame. He was a
man of high spirit and honour, and of great sagacity and daring. No
British officer of his time rendered more service to the cause of the
Revolution or better sustained the House of Brunswick; and when his
victory of Passara had annihilated the navy of Spain and forced that
country to a peace, King George I. was loud in his gratitude to Byng,
and, on creating him Viscount Torrington in 1721, prefaced the patent
with the following preamble:—

“As the grandeur and stability of the British empire depend chiefly upon
knowledge and experience in maritime affairs, we esteem those worthy of
the highest honours who, acting under our influence, exert themselves in
maintaining our dominion over the sea. It is for this reason that we
have determined to advance to the degree of peerage our trusty and
well-beloved councillor, Sir George Byng, Knt. and Bart., who, being
descended from an ancient family in Kent, and educated from his youth in
the sea service, hath through several posts arrived to the highest
station and command in our navy by the strength of his own abilities,
and a merit distinguished by our predecessors and ourselves, in the many
important services which he has performed with remarkable fidelity,
courage, and success. In the late vigorous wars which raged so many
years in Europe—wars fruitful of naval combats and expeditions—there was
scarce any action of consequence wherein he did not bear a principal
part, nor were any dangers or difficulties so great but he surmounted
them by his exquisite conduct and a good fortune that never failed
him.... Lately, when new contentions were springing up in Italy, and the
discord of princes was on the point of embroiling Europe again in war,
he did, with singular felicity and conduct, interpose with our squadron,
crushing at one blow the laboured efforts of Spain to set up a power at
sea, and advanced the reputation of our arms in the Mediterranean to
such a pitch, that our flag gave law to the contending parties, and
enabled us to resettle the tranquillity that had been disturbed. It is
just, therefore, that we should distinguish with higher titles a subject
who has so eminently served us and his country, both as monuments of his
own merit and to influence others into a love and pursuit of virtue.
Know ye, therefore,” &c.

The next sovereign, George II., no less acknowledged Lord Torrington’s
merit, having made him first lord of the Admiralty, and having expressed
to him on many occasions how indebted he and his royal predecessor were
to him. After this, the way in which George II. abandoned this great
man’s son to the clamour of his enemies, seems as startling an act of
ingratitude as the desertion of the earl of Strafford by Charles I.

Sir George Byng, Lord Torrington, died in 1733, leaving by his wife
Margaret, daughter of James Master, Esq., of East Langdon, Kent (which
lady had the good fortune to die the year before the trial of her
unhappy son), a family of five sons and one daughter, of whom the two
eldest sons were successively Viscounts Torrington. Robert, the third
son, was ancestor of the eminent line raised to the peerage as earls of
Strafford; and John, the fourth son, was the Admiral Byng of this trial;
and to his career I now come.

The Hon. John Byng, fourth son of Lord Torrington, was born in 1704, and
when thirteen years of age, entered the royal navy under his father’s
auspices. From this time forward he seems to have been in constant
active employment, and to have behaved creditably on all occasions. He
was made an admiral in 1745, and he that year did good service to the
Crown while commanding a squadron off the coast of Scotland, by
effectually hindering any supplies of consequence being landed for the
use of Prince Charles Edward and his followers. In 1755, Byng was sent
in command of a fleet consisting of twenty-two ships of the line, two
frigates, and two sloops, in a cruise to the westward, in hopes of
intercepting the French squadron under the famous Duguay, and also the
squadron of La Mothe, in its return from America. Byng, however,
returned to Spithead, without having been able to effect anything,
though it was allowed by all that the admiral had acted judiciously in
the choice of his stations. No blame was then fixed on Byng, but this
non-success was harshly remembered by the public when greater adversity
fell upon him; and that happened soon after.

France and England had been acting hostilely to each other for some time
prior to the 18th April, 1756, when the French invaded the then British
possession of Minorca, and war was formally declared between the two
nations. Thus began that great contest which was to end so gloriously
for this country with the conquest of Canada; but like most great
contests in which England has been engaged, not forgetting the
Peninsular and Crimean wars, the Government in the beginning was but
little prepared for the majesty of the enterprise. The Newcastle, a
feeble administration, ruled England, and Pitt, the future Lord Chatham,
was in open opposition, awaiting with eagle eye the moment when he was
to swoop and seize the reins of government. The following account of the
weak conduct of the Ministry, as given by Smollett, graphically
describes the state of affairs:—

“Under the cloak of an invading armament, which engrossed the attention
of the British nation, the French were actually employed in preparations
for an expedition, which succeeded according to their wish. In the
beginning of the year, advice was received that a French squadron would
soon be in a condition to sail for Toulon: this was afterwards confirmed
by repeated intelligence, not only from foreign gazettes, but also from
English ministers and consuls residing in Spain and Italy. They affirmed
that the Toulon squadron consisted of fifteen or twenty
ships-of-the-line, with a great number of transports; that they were
supplied with provisions for two months only, consequently could not be
intended for America; and that strong bodies of troops were on their
march from different parts of the French dominions to Dauphiné and
Provence, in order to be embarked. Notwithstanding these particulars of
information, which plainly pointed out Minorca as the object of their
expedition, notwithstanding the extensive and important commerce carried
on by the subjects of Great Britain in the Mediterranean, no care was
taken to send thither a squadron of ships capable to protect the trade,
and frustrate the designs of the enemy. That great province was left to
a few inconsiderable ships and frigates, which could serve no other
purpose than that of carrying intelligence from port to port, and
enriching their commanders by making prize of merchant vessels. Nay, the
Ministry seemed to pay little or no regard to the remonstrances of
General Blakeney, Deputy-Governor of Minorca, who, by repeated advices,
represented the weakness of the garrison he commanded in St. Philip’s
Castle, the chief fortress on the island. Far from strengthening the
garrison with a proper reinforcement, they did not even send thither the
officers belonging to it, who were in England upon leave of absence, nor
give directions for any vessel to transport them, until the French
armament was ready to make a descent upon that island.

“At length, the destination of the enemy’s fleet being universally
known, the Ministry seemed to rouse from their lethargy, and, like
persons suddenly waking, acted with hurry and precipitation. Instead of
detaching a squadron that in all respects should be superior to the
French fleet in the Mediterranean, and bestowing the command of it upon
an officer of approved courage and activity, they allotted no more than
ten ships-of-the-line for this service, vesting the command of them in
Admiral Byng, who had never met with any occasion to signalise his
courage, and whose character was not very popular in the Navy; but Mr.
West, the second in command, was a gentleman universally respected for
his probity, ability, and resolution. The ten ships destined for this
expedition were but in indifferent order, poorly manned, and unprovided
with either hospital or fire-ship. They sailed from Spithead on the 17th
day of April, 1756, having on board, as part of their complement, a
regiment of soldiers to be landed at Gibraltar, with Major-General
Stuart, Lord Effingham, and Colonel Cornwallis, whose regiments were in
garrison at Minorca, about forty inferior officers, and near one hundred
recruits, as a reinforcement to St. Philip’s fortress.”

Byng, after arriving at Gibraltar, wrote to the Lords of the Admiralty,
loudly and justly complaining of the state of the magazine, supplies,
and other preparations there. He besides signified his opinion that even
if it should be found practicable, it would be very impolitic to throw
any men into St. Philip’s Castle at Minorca, as it would only add to the
number that must fall into the hands of the enemy. These unpleasant
reflections are supposed to have irritated the Lords of the Admiralty,
and to have led them to shift the blame from themselves upon the officer
who had thus dared to complain of their conduct.

The result of an expedition so wretchedly arranged might almost be
anticipated. The failure was sad indeed. Byng sailed from Gibraltar, and
discovered the French fleet off Minorca, then sorely pressed by the
invading French forces, under the Duke of Richelieu. The admiral did not
attempt to land any troops there. He, on the 20th May, 1756, made a
signal to bear away two points from the wind and attack the enemy. The
second in command, Rear-Admiral West, found it impossible to obey this
command, but bearing away with his division seven points to the wind, he
fell on the French ships opposed to him with such impetuosity, that had
he been, it was urged, promptly sustained by the rear under Byng, a
complete victory, in all probability, would have been the consequence.
This, however, was not done. Byng, from his anxiety to preserve his line
entire, kept so far back, that he took little part in the engagement.
The French admiral, M. le Comte de la Galissonnière, captured no English
ships, but seemed well content to avoid a closer fight, and went off at
his leisure. On the following day the two fleets were no longer in sight
of each other, and Byng having called a council of war, it was resolved,
that as the enemy was much superior in the weight of his metal and the
number of his men, it was not practicable to relieve the fortress of St.
Philip’s, and it was decided to return to Gibraltar.

Meanwhile the inhabitants of Minorca had experienced great joy when Byng
and his fleet appeared in sight; the double defeat of Galissonnière and
his fleet at sea, and Richelieu and his troops on land, was fondly
anticipated, when lo! the French fleet was seen to return to its old
station off Port Mahon, and the news came that Byng had been foiled by
the French admiral. In consequence of this failure on the part of
Admiral Byng, General Sir William Blakeney, K.B., the British commander
at Minorca, after a protracted and heroic resistance, which inflicted on
the besiegers a loss of 5,000 men, capitulated to the Duke of Richelieu
on honourable terms.

The news of this triumph for France was received at the Court of
Versailles with transports of joy, and was celebrated throughout the
French dominions with vast and continued public rejoicings. One can
easily conceive how, on the other hand, England was shocked and
humiliated by the intelligence of events so disparaging to her pride and
power. The whole nation was seized with grief and anger, and the people
were furious against the Ministry in the first instance; but the Cabinet
averted from themselves the general wrath by meanly and cruelly
sacrificing Admiral Byng to the popular clamour.

Admiral Sir Edward Hawke and Admiral Saunders were dispatched to
Gibraltar to supersede Admirals Byng and West, and to place them under
arrest, and send them home to England. Byng, on his arrival at
Portsmouth, was immediately placed in strict confinement, and every
indignity was shown him. It is believed that Byng’s despatches were
received on the 16th of June, the day on which the two admirals sailed
from Portsmouth to supersede him; but they were not published till the
26th June, and then not as written by Byng, but with omissions and
interpolations. On Byng’s arrival at Portsmouth, his youngest brother,
the Hon. Colonel Edward Byng, hastened down to meet him, but was so
shocked with the outcries he everywhere met with from the mob, that,
being of a very delicate constitution, he fell ill in the presence of
his incarcerated relative, and died the following day in convulsions.
From Portsmouth Admiral Byng was brought to Greenwich, and there
subjected to very harsh imprisonment in a garret of the Hospital. The
Ministry seemed determined to degrade the man before they slew him. In
the month of December, 1756, their victim was removed back to Portsmouth
to await his trial. That occurred on the 28th of December, 1756. The
court-martial appointed for the investigation assembled on that day, and
was held every day afterwards, Sundays excepted, till the 27th of
January, 1757, inclusive, and was composed of the following members:—

_President_:

  Vice-Admiral Thomas Smith, known in the Navy by the name of “Tom of
    Ten Thousand.”

_Rear-Admirals_:

  Francis Holbourne, afterwards an admiral, a lord of the Admiralty, and
    Governor of Greenwich Hospital.

  Thomas Broderick, afterwards an admiral.

  Harry Norris, afterwards an admiral.

_Captains_:

  Charles Holmes, afterwards an admiral.

  William Boys.

  John Simcoe.

  John Bentley, afterwards an admiral and a knight.

  Peter Denis, afterwards an admiral.

  Francis Geary, afterwards an admiral and a baronet.

  John Moore, afterwards an admiral, K.B., and a baronet.

  James Douglas, afterwards an admiral and a knight.

  Hon. Augustus Keppel, afterwards a very eminent admiral, created
    Viscount Keppel.

The charges against Admiral Byng were seventeen in number, and the court
agreed upon thirty-seven resolutions, of which the five last imputed
blame to Byng, the principal being that, during the engagement, he did
not do his utmost to take, seize, and destroy the ships of the French
king, and assist such of his ships as were engaged.

The statute law under which Byng was charged was the 12th article of the
22 George II., cap. 33, which enacted that

“Every person in the fleet, who, through cowardice, negligence, or
disaffection, shall in time of action withdraw, keep back, or not come
into the fight or engagement, or shall not do his utmost to take or
destroy every ship which it shall be his duty to engage and to assist
and relieve all and every of His Majesty’s ships or those of his allies,
which it shall be his duty to assist or relieve, every such person so
offending, and being convicted thereof by the sentence of a
court-martial, shall suffer death.”[9]

The actual points only upon which his conviction depended were
these:—1st, Whether he made any unnecessary delays with the fleet under
his command, from the time of sailing from St. Helen’s, April 6, to the
time of his arrival at Minorca, May 19, 1756; 2ndly, Whether he did all
that was in his power to do, agreeable to his instructions, to relieve
St. Philip’s fort upon his arrival there; and, 3rdly, Whether he did his
utmost to distress the enemy on the day of battle. As a preparative to
the evidence relating to these particulars, it is necessary to give this
important portion of his instructions:—

“If, upon your arrival at Gibraltar, you shall not gain intelligence of
a French squadron having passed the Straits, you are to go on without a
moment’s loss of time to Minorca; or if, in consequence of such
intelligence, you shall detach Rear-Admiral West, as before directed,
you are to use equal expedition in repairing thither with the ships
which shall remain with you; and if you find any attack made upon that
island by the French, you are to use all possible means in your power
for its relief. If you find no such attack made, you are to proceed off
Toulon, and station your squadron in the best manner you shall be able,
for preventing any French ships getting out of that port, or for
intercepting and seizing any that may get out; and you are to exert the
utmost vigilance therein, and in protecting Minorca and Gibraltar from
any hostile attempt.”

The whole of the instructions, together with a letter from the
Admiralty, relative to the taking on board Lord Robert Bertie’s regiment
of Royal Fusiliers, some letters from Admiral Byng to the Admiralty,
dated at Gibraltar, respecting the state of the place and the
intelligence he had there received, and also the minutes of a council of
war held there on what was proper to be done in consequence of the
orders delivered by him to the governor, with the opinion of the chief
engineers at Gibraltar in regard to the throwing of succours into St.
Philip’s Castle, were all read in court before the examination of
witnesses began. It then became a question, from what time the enquiry
into the conduct of the prisoner should commence, and it was agreed by a
majority of eleven to two, that it should commence from the time the
squadron sailed from St. Helen’s. A short paper of the prisoner’s was
then read to the following effect:—“That he had earnestly wished the
arrival of the time for inquiring into his conduct, and doubted not of
evincing the falsehood of all the artful and malicious aspersions that
had been cast upon him by his enemies; that he had a very sensible
pleasure in considering the abilities and integrity of his judges; and
that, relying with an entire confidence on their candour and impartial
justice, he would not delay the proceedings of the court a moment.”

The evidence was voluminous. The following is the most important part,
as it bore against and for the Admiral:—

Rear-Admiral West was sworn and examined:

_Court_: What distance do you imagine the _Ramillies_ (Admiral Byng’s
ship) might be from the _Buckingham_ (Admiral West’s ship) at the time
of the engagement with the French fleet?—_Admiral West_: I believe about
three miles.

_Court_: Do you think the admiral and the rear could have come up to the
assistance of the van, and come to as close an engagement with the
enemy?—_Admiral West_: I knew of no impediment to the contrary; but I
cannot presume to say there was no impediment; nor I would not be
understood to mean there was none.

_Court_: How was the wind and weather?—_Admiral West_: The wind was very
calm, and the weather exceeding fine.

_Court_: Could you keep your lower ports open?—_Admiral West_: Yes, I
could; and I knew of but one ship that could not, and that was the
_Deptford_, who lowered her ports occasionally.

_Court_: Did you see any fire from Admiral Byng’s ship during the
engagement?—_Admiral West_: When I was looking towards the _Intrepid_,
which was in distress astern, off her I saw some smoke, which might very
probably be from the admiral’s ship, or some of his division; but I was
not able to discover at what ship it was directed.

_Admiral Byng_: Was it not in the power of the enemy to decline coming
to a close engagement, as the two fleets were situated?—_Admiral West_:
Yes, it was; but, as they lay to our fleet, I apprehended they intended
to fight.

_Admiral Byng_: Are you of opinion that the forces on board the fleet
could have relieved Minorca?—_Admiral West_: I believe they could not.

_Admiral Byng_: Were not some of the ships deficient in their complement
of men?—_Admiral West_: Yes.

_Admiral Byng_: Were not some of the ships out of repair?—_Admiral
West_: Yes.

_Admiral Byng_: Was not the fleet deficient, in point of force, with the
enemy?—_Admiral West_: Yes.

General Lord Blakeney examined. He was eighty-seven years of age, and
had been created an Irish peer for his defence of St. Philip’s Castle.

_Admiral Byng to the Witness_: Do you think the forces I had with me
could have been landed at Minorca?—_Lord Blakeney_: Yes; I think they
might very easily be landed.

_Admiral Byng_: Was not some fascines thrown in the way?—_Lord
Blakeney_: Yes; but they were such as I think might easily have been
destroyed.

_Court_: If the admiral had attempted to land the men, would it not have
been attended with danger?—_Lord Blakeney_: Danger! most certainly. It
could not be so easy as stepping into this ship. I have been upwards of
fifty years in the service, and I never knew of any expedition of
consequence carried into execution but what was attended with some
danger; but of all the expeditions I ever knew this was certainly the
worst.

_Admiral Byng_: Had not the French a castle at the point, which might
have prevented the landing of the troops?—_Lord Blakeney_: Not on the
20th of May; and the enemy were then in such distress for ammunition
that they fired stones at the garrison.

_Admiral Byng_: Do you think that the officers and few men I had on
board the fleet could have been of any great service to the
garrison?—_Lord Blakeney_: Yes, certainly, of great service; for I was
obliged, at the time, to set a great number of my men to plaster the
breaches.

Captain Everett examined:

_Court_: What time did you see or discern the island of
Minorca?—_Captain Everett_: We got sight of Minorca about six o’clock on
the morning of the 19th of May.

_Court_: What was your nearest distance from St. Philip’s
Castle?—_Captain Everett_: About eleven or twelve o’clock in the
forenoon of the 19th of May, we were about two leagues distant from St.
Philip’s Castle, and I believe that was the nearest distance I was to
it.

_Court_: What time was the French fleet first discovered?—_Captain
Everett_: About two or three in the afternoon of the same day (the 19th
of May), the French fleet were seen distinctly standing to the westward,
but I cannot pretend to say at what distance.

_Court_: How did the British fleet stand at that time?—_Captain
Everett_: To the S.E., the wind at S.S.W.; moderate fine weather.

_Court_: What time did you see the French fleet preparing for
engagement?—_Captain Everett_: On the 20th of May, between eight and
nine o’clock in the morning.

_Court_: At what distance was the _Ramillies_ from the _Buckingham_ at
the time of the engagement?—_Captain Everett_: I believe about three or
four miles.

_Court_: Could the Admiral and the rear come up to the assistance of the
van, and come to as close an engagement with the enemy?—_Captain
Everett_: I am of opinion that the Admiral’s division might have carried
all their sail, and thereby assisted the van, and prevented them from
receiving so much fire from the rear of the enemy.

Saturday, the 1st of January, the Court being sitting, Lord Blakeney
appeared, in consequence of Admiral Byng’s request, about nine o’clock
in the morning, when the Admiral proposed the following question:—

_Admiral Byng to Lord Blakeney_: If I had landed the troops, do you
think it could have saved St. Philip’s from falling into the hands of
the enemy?

_Lord Blakeney_: It is impossible for me to pretend to answer that
question with any certainty; but really I am of opinion that, if they
had been landed, it would have enabled me to hold out the siege till Sir
Edward Hawke had come to my relief.

Then the four first-lieutenants of the _Buckingham_, Admiral West’s own
ship, were examined, and they all agreed that they did not know of any
impediment to prevent Admiral Byng and his division from coming to the
assistance of the van, which was closely engaged and raked by the
enemy’s rear as they came up, and that they did not see the admiral go
to a close engagement with the enemy, agreeable to his own signals.

Captain Everett was cross-examined:

_Court_: If Admiral Byng had come to a close engagement, do you think a
complete victory might have been obtained?—_Captain Everett_: Why,
really I think there was all the reason in the world to expect it, it
being very well known that Admiral West beat off two of the enemy’s
ships, though he had but five ships to their six, and their metal much
heavier.

_Court_: How was the wind?—_Captain Everett_: An exceeding fair gale.

_Court_: Had you too much or too little?—_Captain Everett_: Neither.
Just enough, and no more.

Captain Young examined:—

_Court_: Could the admiral and his division, as the wind was then, if
they had set all their sails from the time the signal for engaging was
made, and bore away properly, could they have come to a close engagement
with the enemy?—_Captain Young_: Yes, they certainly could; the French
were laying-to for us. I went down only under my topsails, and I don’t
know why they could not have added sail in proportion to the distance
and going of their ships.

Captain Cornwall examined:

“I went,” said he, “to my window abaft, to take a view of the fleet when
in line of battle, and was extremely surprised to see the admiral and
his division at so great a distance on the weather quarter; and seeing
the _Intrepid_ in great distress, and no signal given for removing her
out of the line, I went to her assistance; and, after getting her out of
the line, fell into her station, and engaged the _Foudoyrant_, the
French admiral, being the ship which I imagined fell to my lot in the
then line of battle.”

He also said he knew of no impediment to prevent the admiral’s engaging
at a proper distance, any more than the rest of the fleet.

General Lord Robert Bertie (son of Robert, first Duke of Ancaster, and a
scion of the great family of Bertie, now Earls of Lindsey and of
Abingdon) was sworn and examined, and proved an important witness for
the prisoner:—

_Court_: Where was you stationed?—_Lord R. Bertie_: Upon the quarterdeck
with the admiral.

_Court_: If the officers and recruits that were intended for Minorca had
been landed, do you think they would have saved Fort St. Philip’s?—_Lord
R. Bertie_: No; I think they were of greater service on board the fleet.

_Court_: Was you on board the quarterdeck with the admiral in the
engagement?—_Lord R. Bertie_: Yes; but upon informing the admiral that I
discovered one of our own ships through the smoke upon the lee bow of
the _Ramillies_, and which ship I was apprehensive the _Ramillies_ would
fire into without seeing her, I was detached by the admiral between
decks to stop the firing.

_Court_: Did you discover any signs of fear or confusion in the
admiral?—_Lord R. Bertie_: No, far from it; he expressed an impatience
to engage the enemy.

_Court_: How near were you to the enemy at the time of the
engagement?—_Lord R. Bertie_: We were so near the enemy as to be hulled
by them, and many of the enemy’s shots passed over us.

_Court_: Did you ever hear any murmurings, or complainings, by any of
the officers or men on board, upon a supposition that the admiral had
not done his duty?—_Lord R. Bertie_: No; I never heard anything like it.

Lord Robert Bertie’s examination being finished, Colonel Smith, who was
also upon the quarterdeck with the admiral, was examined next, who
confirmed what Lord Robert Bertie had said in every particular; and he
also added that a shot from the enemy passed between him and Lord Robert
Bertie as they were abaft the mainmast, which took off the head of a
timber upon the deck, and went through the hammocks in the main shrouds.
Captain Gardiner, of the _Ramillies_, testified that Byng showed quite
the reverse of fear, and there was naught to allege against his personal
behaviour.

The admiral addressed the court in his defence, commencing thus:—

“Gentlemen,—The articles of the charge exhibited against me are of such
a nature, that everything that can be supposed interesting to a man is
concerned in the event of this cause. My character, my property, and
even my life, are at stake; and I should, indeed, have great reason to
be alarmed, were not I conscious of my innocence, and fully persuaded of
the justice and equity of this court.”

After urging the circumstances already brought out in his favour, he
concluded as follows:—

“So far, then, I hope it will appear to the court, that neither
knowledge of my profession, prudence in conducting the expedition, nor
duty to my king and country, appear to be deficient in me.

“When, then, from the inferiority of the English, nothing could be
reasonably expected but misfortune and disgrace; or if, by the greatest
efforts of good fortune, victory should declare for our fleet, that no
advantage could be drawn from it; when the risk of losing the whole
fleet was the result of an unanimous council of war; and the nation,
considering the real state of the English and French navies, so little
able to sustain a loss of that kind; when Gibraltar would have been left
defenceless, and fallen of course to the enemy, could the seeking the
French admiral, by a commander who foresaw these probable consequences
with not only an inferior, but a shattered fleet, and no other ships in
the Mediterranean to reinforce him, have been justified in the judgment
of men who have studied the nature of military achievements, or
according to the rules and observations of ancient and modern writers on
this head?

“The utmost advantage could have been but a prolongation of the siege,
without the least probability of raising it; because the fleet, unable
to keep the seas, must have retreated to Gibraltar, the port of Mahon
being still commanded by the enemy’s batteries.”

After consultation, the court came to the unanimous opinion—

“That Admiral John Byng did not do his utmost to relieve St. Philip’s
Castle; and also that, during the engagement between His Majesty’s fleet
under his command, and the fleet of the French king, on the 20th of May
last, he did not do his utmost to take, seize, and destroy the ships of
the French king, which it was his duty to have engaged, and to assist
such of His Majesty’s ships as were engaged in fight with the French
ships, which it was his duty to have assisted; and do therefore
unanimously agree that he falls under part of the 12th article of an Act
of Parliament, of the 22nd year of his present Majesty, for amending,
explaining, and reducing into one Act of Parliament the laws relating to
the government of His Majesty’s ships, vessels, and forces by sea; and
as that article prescribes death, without any alternative left to the
discretion of the court under any variation of circumstance, the court
do thereby unanimously adjudge the said Admiral John Byng to be shot to
death, at such time and on board such ship as the Lords Commissioners of
the Admiralty shall direct.

“But as it appears, by the evidence of Lord Robert Bertie,
Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, Captain Gardiner, and other officers of the
ship who were near the person of the admiral, that they did not perceive
any backwardness in him during the action, or any marks of fear or
confusion, either from his countenance or behaviour, but that he seemed
to give his orders coolly and distinctly, and did not seem wanting in
personal courage; and, from other circumstances, the court do not
believe that his misconduct arose either from cowardice or disaffection,
and do therefore unanimously think it their duty earnestly to recommend
him as a proper object of mercy.”

The court-martial went further, for in transmitting a copy of their
proceedings to the Board of Admiralty, they likewise sent their
lordships a letter, which concluded in these terms:—

“We cannot help laying the distresses of our minds before your lordships
on this occasion, in finding ourselves under the necessity of condemning
a man to death from the great severity of the 12th Article of War, part
of which he falls under, and which admits of no mitigation, even if the
crime should be committed by an error in judgment; and therefore, for
our own consciences’ sake, as well as in justice to the prisoner, we
pray your lordships in the most earnest manner to recommend him to His
Majesty’s clemency.”

The king and his ministry met this representation and other applications
in behalf of Admiral Byng by referring the legality of the judgment of
the court-martial to the consideration of the twelve Judges at
Westminster, who were unanimously of opinion that the sentence was
legal. This was really doing nothing. It was not the strict literal
correctness of the sentence that was doubted, but Byng’s friends mainly
looked to that mercy which was the attribute of the sovereign. The Lords
of the Admiralty, on the Judges giving their decision, signed a warrant
for Byng’s execution: two lords, however, nobly, to their own detriment
and loss of place, refused to concur in the proceeding. These were
Admirals West and Forbes.

Captain, afterwards Admiral, Lord Keppel (who on a future day was to be
subjected to a similar trial) made a last effort to save Byng, and got a
temporary respite, by stating in the House of Commons, of which he was a
member, that he and other members of the court-martial desired to be
released from their oath of secrecy, that they might reveal the grounds
on which they recommended Byng to mercy. A bill was accordingly brought
into the House of Commons for that purpose, and it passed with little
opposition; but being carried to the Lords, it was there so vigorously
opposed that it was thrown out on the second reading.

The following admirable letter was addressed by the Hon. Mrs. Osborn,
Byng’s sister,[10] to the Lords of the Admiralty:—


  “MY LORDS,—The judges having reported to His Majesty in council, that
  the sentence passed on my unfortunate brother is a legal one, permit
  me to implore your lordships’ intercession with His Majesty for his
  most gracious mercy, and to hope your lordships will not think an
  afflicted sister’s application ill-founded, in a case so hardly
  circumstanced, and which the judges (though by the severity of the law
  they thought themselves obliged to pronounce the fatal sentence) have
  so earnestly recommended to your lordships’ humanity; to your justice
  I will not presume to add, though in their letter to your lordships
  they say, ‘that in justice to the prisoner, as well as for their own
  conscience’ sake, they recommend him to His Majesty’s mercy.’

  “The court-martial, my lords, seemed to have acquitted my unhappy
  brother of cowardice and disaffection, and, therefore, it is presumed
  he stands sentenced under the head of negligence. It is not fitting,
  perhaps, that a wretched woman, as I am, should offer any arguments in
  my brother’s relief to your lordships, who are masters of the whole:
  but what criminal negligence, my lords, can there have been, in which
  neither cowardice nor disaffection have had a part? What criminal
  negligence can there have been, since his judges thought it incumbent
  on them, for their own conscience’ sake, and in justice to the
  prisoner, to recommend him to His Majesty’s mercy?

  “I must submit to your lordships, whether it be the meaning of the law
  that every kind of negligence, wilful or not, should be punished with
  death. If so, it is not for me to make an observation on the law; if
  not, a negligence arising neither from cowardice, disaffection, nor
  wilfulness, ought not, according to the spirit and intention of the
  law, to be deemed capital.

  “Why, my lords, should my poor brother suffer, when both the sentence
  by which he is condemned, and the letter to your lordships, by which
  he is so strongly recommended to His Majesty’s mercy, fully prove that
  his judges did not deem him deserving the punishment they thought
  themselves obliged to sentence him to? I hope your lordships will not
  think he ought to suffer, either under a law unexplained or doubtful,
  or under a sentence erroneously passed, if the law has been
  misunderstood; and if my unfortunate brother has been condemned under
  the 12th Article, according to the spirit and meaning of which he
  should not have been condemned, I submit to your lordships whether his
  life should be the forfeit.

  “If there is a doubt on the principles and motives that induced the
  court-martial to entreat the intercession of your lordships with His
  Majesty for mercy, I submit to your lordships whether these motives
  should not be more fully explained before it be too late. It would be
  needless to mention the usual course of His Majesty’s mercy to the
  condemned, upon the application of his judges, if my unhappy brother’s
  case had circumstances particularly unfavourable to it; but, on the
  contrary, for the reasons I have ventured briefly to offer, and the
  many others that must occur to your lordships, his case appears to be
  uncommonly hard, and well deserving that mercy to which his judges
  have so earnestly recommended him. I hope I shall stand excused, if I
  beseech your lordships’ immediate intercession with His Majesty in his
  behalf.—_17th February, 1757._”


This letter passed unheeded.


Byng prepared himself for death. He was ordered to be executed on board
the _Monarque_ in Portsmouth harbour, on the 14th March, 1757.

Two illustrious Frenchmen also interfered to rescue Byng. The one was
Voltaire, ever humane whatever his faults might be; and the other was
the Duke of Richelieu, a Marshal of France, the successful invader of
Minorca.

The Marshal Duke of Richelieu wrote in French; but M. de Voltaire wrote
in English. Voltaire’s letter, and the duke’s translated, run as
follows:—


                                           “Clux Délices près de Genêve.

  “Sir,—That I am almost unknown to you, I think ’tis my duty to send
  you the copy of the letter which I have just received from the
  Marishal Duke of Richelieu: honour, humanity, and equity, order me to
  convey it into your hands. This noble and unexpected testimony from
  one of the most candid as well as the most generous of my countrymen,
  makes me presume your judges will do you the same justice.

                                      “I am, with respect, Sir, &c.,
                                                              “VOLTAIRE.

  “To the Hon. J. Byng, Esq.”


  “Sir,—I am very sensibly concerned for Adm. Byng; I do assure you
  whatever I have seen or heard of him does him honour. After having
  done all that man could reasonably expect from him, he ought not to be
  censured for suffering a defeat. When two commanders contend for
  victory, tho’ both are equally men of honour, yet one must necessarily
  be worsted, and there is against Mr. Byng but his being worsted, for
  his whole conduct was that of an able seaman, and is justly worthy of
  admiration. The strength of two fleets was at least equal; the English
  had 13 ships and we 12, much better equipped and much cleaner. Fortune
  that presides over all battles, and especially those that are fought
  at sea, was more favourable to us than to our adversaries, by sending
  our balls into their ships with greater execution. I am persuaded, and
  it is the generally received opinion, that if the English had
  obstinately continued the engagement their whole fleet would have been
  destroyed.

  “In short, there can be no higher act of injustice than what is now
  attempted against Admiral Byng, and all men of honour, and all
  gentlemen of the army, are particularly interested in the event.

                                                            “RICHELIEU.”


  “I received this original letter from Marishal D. de Richelieu, the
  1st of January, 1757, in witness of which I have signed my name.

                                                             “VOLTAIRE.”


Voltaire, in one of his satirical works, observes that Admiral Byng was
put to death “pour encourager les autres.”

On Sunday morning, the 13th of March, 1757, Captain Montague having
received a warrant from Admiral Boscawen for Admiral Byng’s execution to
take place next day, gave it to the Marshal of the High Court of
Admiralty to read to him; Byng calmly heard it, and remarked, with some
warmth, that the place appointed by the warrant was upon the forecastle.
“Is not this,” said he, addressing himself to his friends, “putting me
upon the footing of a common seaman condemned to be shot? Is not this an
indignity to my birth, to my family, and to my rank in the service? I
think I have not been treated like an officer in any instance since I
was disgraced, excepting in that of being ordered to be shot.” He
appeared much disturbed at this circumstance, and looked upon it as a
grievance. His friends, fearing it would not be altered, because the
warrant was expressly worded so, represented to him that it appeared to
them no impropriety; but they hoped he would think the place immaterial
and beneath his notice, and not let any such consideration break in upon
his tranquillity of mind. He then composed himself again, and replied,
“It is very true, the place or manner is of no great importance to me;
but I think living admirals should consult the dignity of the rank for
their own sakes. I cannot plead a precedent; there is no precedent of an
admiral or a general officer in the army being shot. They make a
precedent of me, such as admirals hereafter may feel the effects of.”

At his last dinner on that Sunday he was cheerful as usual, and in the
evening he ordered a small bowl of punch to be made; and when all were
seated round the table, he helped every one, and taking his own glass
with a little punch in it—“My friends,” said he, “here are your healths,
and God bless you all. I am pleased to find I have some friends still,
notwithstanding my misfortunes.” When he had drank, and set his glass
down, he added, “I am to die to-morrow; and as my country requires my
blood, I am ready to resign it, though I do not as yet know what my
crime is. I think my judges, in justice to posterity and to officers who
come after me, should have explained my crime a little more, and pointed
out the way to avoid falling into the same error I did. As the sentence
and resolutions now stand, I am persuaded no admiral will be wiser
hereafter by them, or know better how to conduct himself on the like
occasion.”

The following day he spent a considerable part of the morning in the
state-room by himself, then came out and sat down with the marshal and
breakfasted composedly as usual. His dress was a plain cloth suit of a
light grey mixture, such as he had always worn after he received his
order of suspension in Gibraltar Bay, having there taken off his
uniform, which he immediately threw into the sea as soon as he had read
the suspending order.

The Monday on which Byng suffered death was most stormy; and amid the
clash of the elements came the clash of the discharge which shot down a
brave British admiral, not for any moral crime, but for that which an
act of Parliament had strangely made a capital offence—viz., an error of
judgment.

Orders had been given for all the men-of-war at Spithead to send their
boats, with the captains and all officers of each ship, accompanied with
a party of marines under arms, to attend the execution. They, in
pursuance of that order, rode from Spithead, and made the harbour a
little after eleven o’clock, with the utmost difficulty and danger, it
blowing a prodigious hard gale, the wind at W.N.W., and ebbing water. It
was still more difficult to get up so high as the _Monarque_ lay, on
board which ship the admiral was to suffer. Notwithstanding it blew so
strong and the sea ran very high, there was a prodigious number of other
boats round the ships on the outside of the men-of-war’s boats, which
last kept off all others. Not a soul was allowed to be on board the
_Monarque_, except those belonging to the ship. Admiral Byng,
accompanied by a clergyman who attended him during his confinement, and
two gentlemen, his relations, walked out of the great cabin to the
quarterdeck, where he was to be shot, on the larboard side, a few
minutes before twelve o’clock. He was dressed in a light grey coat,
white waistcoat, white stockings, and a large white wig, and had in each
hand a white handkerchief. He threw his hat on the deck and kneeled on a
cushion. One of his friends attended him to this cushion, and offered to
tie the bandage over his eyes; but having a white handkerchief ready
folded in his hand, he replied, with a smile on his countenance, “I am
obliged to you, sir,—I thank God I can do it myself; I think I can—I am
sure I can;” and he tied it behind his head himself. He then dropped the
other handkerchief as a signal, on which a volley from six marines was
fired, five of whose bullets went through him, and he was in an instant
no more. The sixth bullet went over his head.

It could not be two minutes from his coming out of his cabin till he
fell motionless on his left side. He died with great resolution and
composure, not showing the least sign of timidity. The spectators were
amazed at the intrepidity of his behaviour, and scarcely could refrain
from tears—even the common seamen, one of whom having stood all the
while full of attention, with his arms crossed, cried out, with a kind
of enthusiasm, when he saw him fall, “There lies the bravest officer in
the navy.”

The _Ramillies_, the ship which was the admiral-ship of Byng in his
fatal engagement in the Mediterranean, was riding at her moorings in the
harbour, and about half an hour before he suffered she broke her mooring
chain, and only held by her bridle, which was looked upon as a wonderful
incident by people who did not consider the high wind at the time.

The admiral just before his execution read and delivered to William
Brough, Esq., Marshal of the High Court of Admiralty, a paper couched in
the following terms:—


  “Sir,—These are my thoughts on this occasion. I give them to you, that
  you may authenticate them, and prevent anything spurious being
  published that might tend to defame me. I have given a copy to one of
  my relations.

  “A few moments will now deliver me from the virulent persecution, and
  frustrate the farther malice of my enemies. Nor need I envy them a
  life subject to the sensation my injuries and the injustice done me
  must create. Persuaded I am, justice will be done to my reputation
  hereafter. The manner and cause of raising and keeping up the popular
  clamour and prejudice against me will be seen through. I shall be
  considered (as I now perceive myself) a victim destined to divert the
  indignation and resentment of an injured and deluded people from the
  proper objects. My enemies themselves must now think me innocent.
  Happy for me, at this my last moment, that I know my own innocence,
  and am conscious that no part of my country’s misfortunes can be owing
  to me. I heartily wish the shedding my blood may contribute to the
  happiness and service of my country, but cannot resign my just claim
  to a faithful discharge of my duty according to the best of my
  judgment, and the utmost exertion of my ability for His Majesty’s
  honour and my country’s service. I am sorry that my endeavours were
  not attended with more success, and that the armament under my command
  proved too weak to succeed in an expedition of such moment.

  “Truth has prevailed over calumny and falsehood, and justice has wiped
  off the ignominious stain of my supposed want of personal courage or
  disaffection. My heart acquits me of these crimes. But who can be
  presumptuously sure of his own judgment? If my crime is an error in
  judgment, or differing in opinion from my judges; and if yet the error
  in judgment should be on their side, God forgive them, as I do; and
  may the distress of their minds, and uneasiness of their consciences,
  which in justice to me they have represented, be relieved and subside,
  as my resentment has done.

  “The Supreme Judge sees all hearts and motives; and to him I must
  submit the justice of my cause.

                                                               “J. BYNG.

  “On board His Majesty’s ship _Monarque_, in Portsmouth harbour, March
  14, 1757.”


It is a singular and melancholy fact, that in the very month of June,
1756, when the order had gone to Gibraltar to arrest Byng and bring him
home to his trial and death, one of the admiral’s nephews, Robert Byng,
was among the hundred and twenty-three victims who perished from
suffocation in the black-hole of Calcutta.

To the honour of the Byng family, their patriotic character and public
spirit were no wise lessened by the sad treatment of the unfortunate
admiral. They have continued to bear themselves with high credit and
honour down to the present day, and their very conduct, showing the
worth and dignity of the race, is another proof of the injustice done
their relative. The admiral’s two elder brothers were Pattee, second
Viscount Torrington, who acted efficiently as Paymaster-General in
Ireland; and George, third Viscount Torrington, who was a general
officer of repute, and whose grandson George, sixth and late Viscount
Torrington, was a vice-admiral of the blue. Admiral John Byng had
another brother, the Hon. Robert Byng, who was Commissioner of the Navy
and Governor of Barbadoes, and whose two grandsons were the honest old
George Byng, Esq., for fifty six years M.P. for Middlesex; and Sir John
Byng, G.C.B., a field marshal in the army, who was one of the glories of
the Peninsula and Waterloo. His heroic conduct in many a Peninsular
battle, and particularly at Waterloo, obtained for him twice the thanks
of Parliament, and eventually the Viscountcy of Enfield and the Barony
and Earldom of Strafford. The present head of the house of Byng, George,
seventh Viscount Torrington, has held and still holds high office under
the Crown; his next brother, Major the Hon. Robert Barlow Palmer Byng,
of the Bengal Native Infantry, an officer of great merit and ability,
fell gloriously in India, in 1857, while leading his regiment against
the mutineers. The present viscount’s third brother, the Hon. James
Byng, in another public capacity, as the able chairman of the
South-Eastern Railway Company, has rendered to the community services of
the greatest value. In fine, the unfair cruelty which Admiral Byng
underwent, the little wrong he had done, and the very merits of his
family, make his putting to death a very sorrowful and a but little
creditable recollection in the annals of our navy.




                  THE TRIAL OF LORD GEORGE SACKVILLE.


In the reign of George II. it became quite a fashion for both king and
people to run down to degradation, and even to death, any commander who
should be unsuccessful through even a mere fault of judgment or
misapprehension of the circumstances under which he might be acting.
Admiral Byng was a sad and shameful instance of this kind of treatment
towards men who were honourably doing their best in the public service.
Another example is afforded in General Lord George Sackville, the
subject of the following trial, who was pursued with full the same
malignity as Byng, and who would have undoubtedly perished in the same
way had the sentence of the court-martial been stretched to a similar
extent. The general’s fault, after all, was but a mistake—though a bad
one, certainly—amid a confusion of orders; and the king, as in Byng’s
case, showed no little ingratitude, for Lord George’s father had, like
Byng’s father, Lord Torrington, rendered essential benefits to the House
of Hanover. In fact, there is so much of a parallel character in the two
trials of Byng and Sackville—so much, too, showing the singular spirit
of the age—that they must be read together; and, therefore, in this
series, the court-martial on Lord George comes appropriately after that
on Admiral Byng.

Lord George Sackville, afterwards Lord George Germain and first Viscount
Sackville, belonged to one of the noblest and most ancient families in
England. He was the third son of Lionel Cranfield, K.G., seventh Earl
and first Duke of Dorset—an eminent Whig statesman, who began his career
of devotion to George I. and George II. by taking across the sea to
them, the one Elector and the other Prince of Hanover, the Order of the
Garter and their act of naturalisation. Dorset went again, when Queen
Anne died, to announce to the elder George his accession to the throne.
The duke died Master of the Horse to George III. in 1768. His son Lord
George Sackville’s earlier career may be briefly told. He was born the
26th January, 1716, and his name of George came from the king, George I.
himself, who was his godfather. After the then usual education of
persons of rank which had made of him a polished gentleman, Lord George
Sackville was named in 1734 Clerk of the Privy Council in Ireland, while
his father was Lord-Lieutenant there. In 1737, he obtained a commission
in the army, and thus commenced his military career, which was to be
checked so unluckily. In 1740 he was made the colonel of a regiment of
foot, and soon after aide-de-camp to the king. He showed himself a good
soldier, and won much distinction at Dettingen and Fontenoy. He was
afterwards with the Duke of Cumberland in Scotland, where he mainly
contributed to the suppression of the Rising of ’45. He was after that
Secretary of State under his father, for the second time Lord-Lieutenant
of Ireland, and he sat in the Irish Parliament as member for
Portarlington. He became a Lieut.-General of the Ordnance in 1757, and
so high had his reputation risen, that in 1758 he was appointed to
succeed Charles, second Duke of Marlborough, a distinguished military
leader, as commander-in-chief of the British forces in Germany, then
acting under Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick. This brings us to the Battle
of Minden. England, and, indeed, almost all Europe, were at the time
fiercely engaged throughout the globe in that memorable war which our
ally the King of Prussia, at Rosbach and elsewhere, and our own
generals, Clive at Plassy and Wolfe on the Heights of Abram, were to
make illustrious for ever. On the Continent the Duke of Cumberland, the
sanguinary duke of Culloden, had been cutting somewhat of a poor figure,
and latterly England confined herself, in the European part of the
contest, to sending British troops as auxiliaries to her allies. These
troops were commanded in chief, in 1758 and 1759 as stated, by Lord
George Sackville, but, somehow or other, he could not approve of or
agree with his generalissimo, Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, George H.’s
relative, and Prince Ferdinand in consequence owed him a spite. With the
famous Lieutenant-General the Marquis of Granby, who acted under him,
Lord George was also not on the best of terms. Amid such a state of
feeling among the commanders of the allies, the Battle of Minden was
fought and won by them against the French, under Marshal de Contades, on
the 1st August, 1759. The action, which was a tremendous struggle,
commenced at five in the morning and raged with varied success during
the day, but it is to the latter portion of the contest that the
reader’s attention should, as far as Lord George Sackville was
concerned, be directed.

After much firing on both sides, the allied army, advancing in eight
columns, occupied the ground between Halen and Hemman, and the space
between the last village and Dodenhausen was filled with Vangenheim’s
corps. Against this force the enemy directed their principal effort on
the left; but the Duke de Broglie experienced a severe check from a
battery of thirty cannon prepared by the Count de Buckeburg, Grand
Master of the Artillery, which, under his directions, were fired with
admirable effect. Towards the right of the allies, six regiments of
English infantry and two battalions of Hanoverian guards had to sustain
the charge of the French carabineers and gendarmerie. Such, however,
were their firmness and courage, that every corps of cavalry, as well as
infantry, that assailed them on the left and in the centre not only
failed of piercing their ranks, but was itself absolutely broken. The
cavalry on the right had no opportunity of engaging. They were destined
to support the infantry of the third line, and consisted of the British
and Hanoverian horse, commanded by Lord George Sackville, whose second
was the Marquis of Granby. They had been posted at a considerable
distance from the first line of infantry, divided from it by a scanty
wood that bordered on a heath. During the action they were ordered up,
but through some error, and this was the offence charged on Lord George
Sackville, did not arrive in time to take part in the struggle.
Originally it was not intended that they should be engaged, and there
was no occasion for their services. About noon the French gave way, and
withdrew from the field of battle. They were pursued to the ramparts of
Minden, having lost a great number of men, with forty-three large cannon
and many colours and standards. The loss of the allies was much less
severe. On the following day the garrison of Minden surrendered at
discretion, when many French officers who had been wounded in the
engagement fell into the hands of the victors.

Immediately after the victory, Prince Ferdinand published orders
relative to the troops under him, and by confining himself to
complimenting the Marquis of Granby, clearly implied a severe reflection
on that nobleman’s superior in command, Lord George Sackville; and the
rumour flew to England at once that the complete rout of the French was
prevented by Lord George, through cowardice or disobedience, not
charging at the opportune moment with the cavalry under his command.
Lord George was furious at the imputation. He flung up his appointments
and demanded a court-martial. The sensation the whole affair caused is
so well described by Smollett, that I cannot do better than borrow from
that historian the following graphic account:—

“No subject so much engrossed the conversation and passion of the public
as did the case of Lord George Sackville, who had by this time resigned
his command in Germany, and returned to England, the country which, of
all others, it would have been his interest to avoid at this juncture,
if he was really conscious of the guilt, the imputation, of which his
character now sustained. With the first tidings of the battle fought at
Minden, the defamation of this officer arrived. He was accused of
disobeying orders, and his conduct presented as infamous in every
particular. These were the suggestions of a vague report, which no
person could trace to its origin; yet this report immediately gave birth
to one of the most inflammatory pamphlets that ever was exhibited to the
public. The first charge had alarmed the people of England; jealous in
honour, sudden and rash in their sentiments, and obstinately adhering to
the prejudices they have espoused. The implied accusation in the orders
of Prince Ferdinand and the combustible matter superadded by the
pamphlet writer kindled up such a blaze of indignation in the minds of
the people, as admitted of no temperament or control. An abhorrence and
detestation of Lord George Sackville, as a coward and a traitor, became
the universal passion, which acted by contagion, infecting all degrees
of people, from the cottage to the throne, and no individual who had the
least regard for his own character and quiet would venture to preach up
moderation, or even advise a suspension of belief, until more certain
information could be received. Fresh fuel was continually thrown in by
obscure authors of pamphlets and newspapers, who stigmatised and
insulted with such virulent perseverance, that one would have imagined
they were actuated by personal motives and retained by mercenary
booksellers, against that unfortunate nobleman. Not satisfied with
inventing circumstances to his dishonour in his conduct on the last
occasion, they pretended to take a retrospect view of his character, and
produced a number of anecdotes to his prejudice, which had never before
seen the light, and, but for this occasion, had, probably, never been
known. Not that all the writings which appeared on this subject
contained fresh matters of aggravation against Lord George Sackville.
Some writers, animated by a hope of advantage, or hired to betray the
cause they undertook to defend, entered the lists as professed champions
of the accused, assumed the pen on his behalf, devoid of sense,
unfurnished with materials, and produced performances that could not
fail to injure his character among all those who believed that he
countenanced their endeavours, and supplied them with the facts and
arguments of his defence. Such, precisely, was the state of the dispute
when Lord George arrived in London. While Prince Ferdinand was crowned
with laurel, while the King of Great Britain approved his conduct, and
as the most glorious mark of that approbation invested him with the
Order of the Garter; while his name was celebrated through all England,
and extolled in the warmest expressions of hyperbole, above all the
heroes of antiquity; every mouth was open to execration of the late
commander of the British troops in Germany. He was now made acquainted
with the particulars of his imputed guilt, which he had before
indistinctly learned. He was accused of having disobeyed three
successive orders he had received from the general, during the action of
Minden, to advance with the cavalry of the right wing, which he
commanded, and sustain the infantry that were engaged; and, after the
cavalry were put in motion, of having halted them unnecessarily, and
marched so slow, that they could not reach the place of action in time
to be of any service; by which conduct the opportunity was lost of
attacking the enemy when they gave way, and rendering the victory more
glorious and decisive. The first step which Lord George took toward his
own vindication with the public was in printing a short address,
entreating them to suspend their belief with respect to his character
until the charge brought against him should be legally discussed by a
court-martial; a trial which he had already solicited, and was in hopes
of obtaining. Finding himself unable to stem the tide of popular
prejudice, which flowed against him with irresistible impetuosity, he
might have retired in quiet and safety, and left it to ebb at leisure.
This would have been generally deemed a prudential step by all those who
consider the unfavourable medium through which every particular of his
conduct must have been viewed at this juncture, even by men who
cherished the most candid intentions; when they reflected upon the
power, influence, and popularity of his accuser; the danger of
aggravating the resentment of a sovereign, already too conspicuous; and
the risk of hazarding his life on the honour and integrity of witnesses
who might think their fortunes depended upon the nature of the evidence
they should give. Notwithstanding those suggestions, Lord George,
seemingly impatient of the imputation under which his character
laboured, insisted upon the privilege of a legal trial, which was
granted accordingly, after the judges had given it as their opinion that
he might be tried by a court-martial, though he no longer retained any
commission in the service.”

The court-martial thus earnestly demanded by Lord George was held at the
Horse Guards at the end of March and beginning of April, 1760. The court
consisted of the following members:—

 Lieut.-General  the Hon. Sir Charles Howard, K.B., President (a general
                   in 1765).

   „      „      John Campbell, Earl of Loudoun (a general in 1765).

   „      „      Lord Delawarr (Sir John West, K.B., afterwards Earl of
                   Delawarr, and in 1765 a general).

   „      „      The Hon. James Cholmondeley (distinguished at the
                   battle of Falkirk, a general in 1770, son of George,
                   second Earl Cholmondeley).

   „      „      The Hon. James Stuart.

   „      „      Earl of Panmure (William Maule, of Kelly, a general in
                   1770).

   „      „      Earl of Ancrum (Sir William Henry Kerr, K.G.,
                   afterwards fourth Marquis of Lothian and a general in
                   1770: distinguished at Fontenoy and Culloden).

   „      „      Earl of Harrington (William, second earl, a general in
                   1770).

   „      „      James Abercromby (a general in 1772).

   „      „      Earl of Albemarle (Sir George Keppel, K.G., third Earl
                   of Albemarle, and brother of the famous Admiral
                   Keppel. He was aide-de-camp to the Duke of Cumberland
                   at Fontenoy, and was commander-in-chief at the
                   reduction of the Havannah).

   „      „      Francis Leighton (second son of Sir Edward Leighton,
                   Bart.).

   „      „      Lord Robert Manners (son of John, second Duke of
                   Rutland, and a general in 1772).

 Major-General   Edward Carr (a lieut.-general in 1760).

   „      „      Earl of Effingham (Thomas Howard, second earl, and
                   deputy earl marshal; a lieut.-general in 1760).

   „      „      Lord Robert Bertie (who had behaved so kindly to
                   Admiral Byng at his trial; son of Robert, first Duke
                   of Ancaster; in 1777 a general).

   „      „      Julius Cæsar (who, while with the allied army in
                   Germany, died from a fall from his horse in 1762).

 Charles Gould,  deputy judge-advocate (afterwards, in 1771,
                   judge-advocate and a knight and baronet, ancestor of
                   Lord Tredegar).

The charge against Lord George was:—“That he, being a lieutenant-general
in His Majesty’s army in Germany, under the command of Prince Ferdinand
of Brunswick, and being by his instructions (which were read in court)
directed to obey the orders of the said Prince Ferdinand, did
notwithstanding, on August 1, 1759, disobey the orders that were sent to
him by his Serene Highness.”

The deputy judge-advocate, Mr. Gould, in a short speech, explained the
nature of the charge, and observed that by his lordship’s not advancing
with the cavalry, agreeably to repeated orders sent him by three
aides-de-camp, a signal opportunity was left of ruining the French army,
and the cavalry were thereby prevented from gathering the laurels which
the infantry had prepared.

The evidence which bore most upon the charge was as follows:

Captain Winchenrode, Prince Ferdinand’s Prussian aide-de-camp, deposed
that he was sent early in the morning with orders from the Prince to
Lord George Sackville to march to the left with the cavalry, in order to
sustain the infantry. At the end of the second line he saw Lord Granby,
of whom he inquired where Lord George was, saying that he was going with
orders to him. His lordship answered, “At the head of the first line,”
where, accordingly, the deponent found him. He delivered to him the
Prince’s orders, in French, and afterwards repeated them in French; upon
which his lordship said he did not understand them, and asked him twice
how it was to be done. The deponent then told him, in English, that he
was to march to the left through a little wood (to which he pointed),
after which he would come on a heath, where he was to form, and from
thence he might see our infantry. After this, the deponent left him.

Being asked, at the desire of Lord George, whether it did not seem, by
our dispositions, that the enemy’s cavalry were expected to have been on
their flanks, and their infantry in their centre, he replied that he
knew nothing of that, nor could pretend to form a judgment either of
their dispositions or ours; all he knew was, that he was sent with
orders to his lordship.

Lieutenant-Colonel Ligonier (brother of the famous General John Earl
Ligonier) deposed that he carried orders from the Prince to Lord George,
to march to the left with the cavalry, in order to sustain the infantry
and to form a third line behind them on the plain. He delivered them
accordingly to his lordship, and told him that he was to march to the
left through the wood. Lord George asked him who was to be their guide,
and if he would undertake to lead the line. He answered, that he could
not promise, but would endeavour to do his best. His lordship then
ordered swords to be drawn, and bid them march; and soon after came up
Colonel Fitzroy, with orders from the Prince to march up immediately
with the British cavalry. On which Lord George, turning to the deponent,
said, “Sir, your orders disagree.” He replied, “Only in numbers, my
lord, but their destination is the same; that is, to the left.” Soon
after his lordship and Colonel Fitzroy rode away together.

Being asked, at Lord George’s desire, if he did not insist on his orders
being obeyed, he answered, “Yes,” peremptorily.

Lieutenant-Colonel Fitzroy deposed that the reason of his being sent to
Lord George was, that the Duke of Richmond had been reconnoitering, and
having observed to the Prince that the enemy’s cavalry were in disorder,
he said, “Voici le beau moment pour la cavalerie,” and bid the deponent
go with orders to Lord George Sackville, to march up as fast as possible
with the British cavalry. He delivered them, accordingly, when his
lordship bid him repeat them, and speak slowly and distinctly. He did
so, when his lordship told him that his orders disagreed with those just
brought him by Colonel Ligonier, and added, that the Prince could never
intend to break the line. He insisted on his having been exact in
delivering the orders just as he received them. On which Lord George
said he would go to the Prince himself, and away they went together.
Being asked “What pace?” answered, “A half-gallop,” but that soon after
they set out, Lord George, stopping to speak to Captain Smith, his
aide-de-camp, the deponent then pushed on full gallop, and got to the
Prince time enough to make his report before his lordship came up. When
he told his highness that Lord George was coming himself, he expressed
his surprise strongly, not by words, but actions. What passed between
the Prince and Lord George, he did not hear. Being asked if he carried
afterwards an order to Lord George Granby, he answered, yes, and the
occasion of it was this: he was with the prince at Captain Philips’s
battery, when his highness, seeing the enemy’s cavalry in great
disorder, said that he thought our cavalry might, even then, be of
service. On which the deponent asked if he should go and fetch them. His
highness replied, “Yes, make haste, and deliver the order to Lord
Granby, for I know he will obey me.” He went accordingly, and delivered
the order, as directed, to Lord Granby, whose wing, he observed, was
farther advanced than the other, which his lordship also mentioned to
him. He asked the deponent why he did not deliver his orders to Lord
George Sackville. He replied, that as Lord George had disobeyed a former
order which he carried, he had now the Prince’s direction to deliver
this order to him (Lord Granby)—upon which his lordship immediately put
the second line in motion. Being asked, by Lord George, whether he had
ever reconnoitered the wood, and whether it was close or open, he
replied, that he looked at it as he passed through, and the part through
which he went was very open; and, as to the breadth, two squadrons might
march in front. Being asked whether, if our infantry had been broken by
the enemy, the consequence would not have been very fatal, he replied,
“Undoubtedly, as the action was on a plain, and there were no cavalry to
cover them while they rallied.”

Lieut.-Colonel Sloper (of Bland’s Dragoons) deposed that on August 1,
about four in the morning, Captain Pentz came to his tent, with orders
from the Prince for the men to mount; he added, “In order for action.”
The deponent himself went round the regiment, and found the men lying
down in their tents, booted, and the horses saddled, as they had been
ever since one o’clock, by an order issued the night before. In about
half an hour after they were drawn out, Lord George Sackville came to
the head of Bland’s, where the deponent was, and bid them march. They
had not gone far before Captain Winchenrode, Prince Ferdinand’s
aide-de-camp, came up and told his lordship, in French, that it was the
Prince’s orders that he should march to the left and sustain the
infantry on the plain. He repeated it in French. Lord George replied,
“Mais comment, mais comment?” The captain then said, in English, waving
his hand, that he was to march through those trees (that was his
expression), on the left, and then he would come on a heath, where he
would see our infantry and the enemy. Winchenrode then went away, and
Lord George, saying that he could not understand the orders, the
deponent said that it was clear to him that this was to be done by the
left of the right wing of cavalry. For about a quarter of an hour after
this he did not see his lordship, and they still remained where they
were; till at last Lord George came up, and said to him, “Colonel, move
your regiment.” He replied, “To the left, my lord?” His lordship
answered, “No, straight forward.” Soon after Colonel Ligonier came to
Lord George, with orders from the Prince to march immediately with the
cavalry to sustain the infantry on the plain. (The deponent then desired
to know if he must inform the court what he said to Colonel Ligonier,
and being told, if it related to Lord George, he must, he then
proceeded.) The deponent then said to Colonel Ligonier, “For God’s sake,
sir, repeat your orders, that that man (meaning Lord George Sackville)
may not pretend he does not understand them, for it is now near half an
hour since we received orders to march, and yet we are still here. [He
was sorry (he said) that his oath obliged him to mention what he also
added.] For you see, sir, the condition he is in.” Colonel Fitzroy then
came up, but what he said to Lord George he did not hear, only his
lordship then, turning to Colonel Ligonier, said, “Sir, your orders are
contradictory.” He replied, “In numbers only; not in destination.” Soon
after his lordship and Colonel Fitzroy rode away together, and in about
a quarter of an hour more the cavalry moved.

Being asked to explain what he meant by those words, “You see, sir, the
condition he is in,” he replied, that his lordship seemed to him to be
greatly alarmed; that when he gave him the orders to march the regiment,
he was in the utmost confusion, as appeared by his ordering them to
march straightforward, when the original orders were to go to the left;
Colonel Ligonier’s orders were to go to the left; and when the cavalry
did move, it moved to the left.

Prince Ferdinand’s Prussian aide-camp deposed that, on Lord George’s not
bringing up the cavalry on Colonel Fitzroy’s order, the prince, being
very impatient, directed him to go and hasten Lord George. That on his
way, Colonel Fitzroy passed him at a distance, and soon after he saw his
lordship coming himself. On which he hastened back to inform his
highness that Lord George was coming to take his orders from his own
mouth, rather than from him; but that before he could speak, the prince
cried out, “What, will he not obey me?”

The Marquis of Granby (a celebrated commander, son of John, third Duke
of Portland, and ancestor of the present duke) deposed to the same
effect as Captain Winchenrode in regard to his seeing him both in going
and returning from Lord George Sackville.


Lord George Sackville made an eloquent speech in his own behalf on the
nature of the evidence that had been brought against him. The substance
of the defence was as follows:—That orders were given the night before
the battle for the troops to be in readiness at one the next morning;
the horses of the cavalry to be then saddled, but not to strike tents or
march till further orders; that these orders having been frequently
given for a fortnight before, were not alone sufficient to apprise Lord
George of an engagement next morning; that the first notice that Lord
George, Lord Granby, and other general officers had of an attack was
from the firing of cannon between five and six; that Lord George
immediately rose, being waked by the sound, and rode from the village
where he was quartered to the head of the cavalry, which was then
mounted, and he was there before any other general officer of the
division; that he marched them, although no orders to march had yet
reached him, toward a windmill in front; that when he had advanced a
considerable distance, he received an order to halt and wait till he
should receive further orders; that while he remained on or near the
ground, the artillery had also marched from its ground, though neither
had received any orders; and Lord George, imagining that orders to the
artillery had been forgotten in the hurry usual upon a surprise, he
ordered it to advance in front, where it was of signal service. That
Captain Winchenrode soon after brought him an order to form a line as a
third line to support the infantry, and advance; that he said nothing
about going to the left, between trees, or coming out upon a heath, nor
told him where the infantry to be sustained were to be found, but only
repeated his orders twice in French, which Lord George requested him to
do, not from any difficulty he found in comprehending the general
intention of them, but because they were at first expressed indistinctly
through hurry. That Lord George supposing that to advance was to go
forward, immediately began to execute these orders, by sending an
officer to a Saxe Gotha regiment of foot that obstructed his way in
front, to cause it to remove out of his way, thinking it better so to do
than to cause our artillery, which obstructed the only other way he
could have advanced, to halt, dispatching at the same time a second
officer where the infantry he was to sustain was posted, and a third to
reconnoitre the situation of the enemy. That while this was doing,
Colonel Ligonier came up with an order to advance with the cavalry, in
order to profit of a disorder which appeared in the cavalry of the
enemy; and that neither did he mention, or at least was not heard to
mention, any movement to the left. That the Saxe Gotha regiment being by
this time removed from the front, Lord George, in obedience to the
concurrent orders of Captain Winchenrode and Colonel Ligonier, as he
understood them, and as they were understood by his witnesses, ordered
the troops to advance straight forward. That this could not be more than
eight minutes after he received the order that had been brought by
Captain Winchenrode, because Captain Winchenrode, as he was riding back
from Lord George, met Colonel Fitzroy riding to him very fast; and when
Colonel Fitzroy arrived, the troops were in motion. That it appears from
all the witnesses that they could not be put in motion in much less than
eight minutes, as five minutes were given even by the witnesses for the
prosecution for the Saxe Gotha regiment to remove out of the way. That
almost immediately after the troops were in motion, Colonel Fitzroy came
up and brought the first orders he heard for moving to the left, at the
same time limiting the movement to the British cavalry. That then, being
in doubt what to do, he halted; the order that arrived last, by Colonel
Fitzroy, not superseding the former by Colonel Ligonier; as Lord George
and those about him understood, both from Fitzroy and Ligonier, that
they brought the same order, having received it at the same time, and
brought it at different times by having taken different routes. That not
being able to agree, each earnestly pressing the execution of his own
orders, Lord George took the resolution to go to the prince, who was not
far distant. That Colonel Ligonier went forward, and that as Lord George
was riding on with Colonel Fitzroy, he perceived the wood on the left
more open than he had thought it, which inclined him to think it
possible the prince might have ordered him to the left; and Colonel
Fitzroy still vehemently pressing the execution of the order he brought,
he sent Captain Smith with orders for the British cavalry to move to the
left; the motion to the left and the limitation of the movement to the
British being connected in the same order, and both peculiar to that
brought by Colonel Fitzroy. That by this means scarcely any delay was
made, even by the difference of the orders brought by the two
aides-de-camp, Captain Smith not having advanced above two hundred yards
beyond the left of the British cavalry; the time, therefore, could only
be what he took up in galloping twice that space. That this period
included all the time in which Lord George is supposed to have disobeyed
orders by an unnecessary delay.

Numerous witnesses were called in support of this statement—viz.,
Lieut.-Colonel Hotham, Captain Smith and Captain Lloyd, Lord George’s
aides-de-camp, Lieut.-Colonel Preston of the Greys, Captain William,
R.A., Captain McBean of the train, Captain Hugo, Lord George’s German
aide-de-camp, Captain Brome, R.A., and the Rev. Mr. Hotham, chaplain to
the staff. Their evidence bore out the defence, and among their
testimony the most important was that of Lieut.-Colonel Hotham and
Captain Smith.

Lieut.-Colonel Hotham deposed that the orders which he received on July
29, for generals to reconnoitre the overtures leading from the camp to
the plains of Minden, and on the 31st, for the horses to be saddled,
&c., at one the next morning, were communicated to, and obeyed by, his
lordship, and that such orders as the last had been frequently issued
during the fortnight before. Being asked (as were all the following
witnesses) if he perceived any difference in Lord George’s looks or
behaviour that day, from what was usual, he answered (as did the rest),
“None in the least.”

Captain Smith deposed that he and Colonel Watson reconnoitered the
overtures by his lordship’s orders, on the 30th; and that Lord George
himself went as far as he could, consistent with his picquet-duty, being
lieutenant-general of the day. That by orders from the prince, the
cavalry were first formed into squadrons, and then into line. That while
they were forming he was on a rising ground, from whence he observed,
that by the time four or five squadrons were formed, Lord George marched
them, which occasioned disorder in the rear, they not being able to keep
up, which he went and informed his lordship of, who upon that made them
halt; and he (the deponent) returned to his post. That soon after they
moved again, when a Hanoverian officer, whom he knew, came up to him,
and said that they marched so fast in front that they could not keep up,
and that their horses would be blown, &c., which the deponent went again
and told Lord George of, who then said that he would halt no more, but
that he would march slow, and that then the rear, when it was formed,
might soon overtake him, but desired them not to hurry. That the place
where they were forming the line, he observed, was not wide enough, but
riding forward, he observed that there was room enough a little farther,
which he mentioned to his lordship, who then ordered them to move on,
and the line was soon well formed. And that, as to alteration in his
lordship’s looks or behaviour that day, he was sure there was none; and
that he would have gone to death if it had been needful.


The court-martial pronounced the following sentence:

“This court, upon due consideration of the whole matter before them, is
of opinion that Lord George Sackville is guilty of having disobeyed the
orders of Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, whom he was by his commission
and instructions directed to obey, as commander-in-chief, according to
the rules of war; and it is the farther opinion of the court, that the
said Lord George Sackville is, and he is hereby adjudged, unfit to serve
His Majesty in any military capacity whatever.”

This sentence George II. confirmed to its fullest extent, and caused it
to be directed in the “Gazette,” “that the above sentence should be
given out in public orders, so that officers being convinced that
neither high birth nor great employments could shelter offences of such
a nature; and that seeing they were subject to censures much worse than
death, to a man who had any sense of honour, they might avoid the fatal
consequence arising from disobedience of orders.”

Further, at a court at St. James’s, the 25th day of April, 1760, George
II., in council, called for the council book, and ordered the name of
Lord George Sackville to be struck out of the list of privy councillors.

Horace Walpole, in a letter to Sir Horace Mann, dated 26th March, 1810,
thus refers to the sentence and treatment of Lord George:—

“The history of Lord George Sackville, which has interested us so much
and so long, is at last at an end—gently enough, considering who were
his parties and what has been proved.... I think this is not the last we
shall hear of him. Whatever were his deficiencies in the day of battle,
he had at least showed no want of spirit, either on pushing on his trial
or during it. His judgment in both was perhaps a little more equivocal.
He had a formal message that he must abide the event whatever it should
be. He accepted that issue, and during the course of the examination
attacked judge, prosecutor, and evidence. Indeed, a man cannot be said
to want spirit who could show so much in his circumstances.... But he is
a peculiar man; and I repeat it, we have not heard the last of him. You
will find that by _serving the king_ he understands in a very literal
sense; and there is a young gentleman who, it is believed, intends these
words shall _not_ have a more extensive one.”

Horace Walpole was a true prophet in his anticipations. Lord George
outlived his disgrace, and rose to high position and power again. For
some years subsequent to his trial he lived in obscurity, during which
period a piece of good fortune happened to him. Lady Elizabeth Germain,
a well-known personage in those days, and a correspondent of Dean Swift,
the daughter of Charles, second Earl Berkeley, and widow of Sir John
Germain, Bart., of Drayton, Northamptonshire, died in 1769, and left the
property her husband left her to Lord George Sackville, who consequently
assumed the surname of Germain. In a few years after that George III.
restored him to favour and to his seat in the Privy Council, and he was,
in Lord North’s Administration, appointed American Secretary of State,
and, as such, strongly evinced his hostility to American independence.
He held office from 1755 to 1782, when, on retiring, he was created in
the latter year Baron Bolebrooke and Viscount Sackville. His promotion
to the peerage caused a violent debate in the House of Lords on a motion
of disapproval “of the introduction into the House of a person
stigmatised in the orderly book of every regiment in the service.” The
motion was rejected by a majority of sixty-five, and Viscount Sackville
lived on peaceably, and died on the 26th May, 1785, at Stoneland Lodge,
Sussex.

His lordship, it would appear, was an eloquent writer: the “Gentleman’s
Magazine” for 1785, in commenting on his death, says:—

“The late Lord Sackville, who was a gentleman of extraordinary talent,
wrote a beautiful eulogy on the late Princess of Orange, but which never
graced the press. The genius, learning, and exalted virtue of the
princess were the theme of his lordship’s all-powerful pen. The above
noble lord and his illustrious relation, Lady Betty Germain, had the art
of painting in words to a very eminent degree, and which afforded the
finest ornaments in either poetry, history, or elocution. The very
animated and beautiful imagery of Cicero, in which he paints the cruelty
of Verres, is spoken of with rapture by her ladyship in some of her
letters. It is in a letter to the above lady that Dean Swift styled
Ireland ‘the Isle of Saints,’ from the many very pious and eminent men
it produced; it was also, he said, the school of wisdom and the seat of
knowledge.”

Lord Sackville’s honours were inherited by his eldest son Charles,
second Viscount Sackville, who eventually became fifth and last Duke of
Dorset. The only child and heiress of the first Viscount Sackville’s
second son, George, is the present Mrs. Caroline Harriet Stafford, of
Drayton House, county Northampton, a seat formerly the property of her
grandfather, the Lord George of this narrative, whose representative
this lady now is.

The dukedom of Dorset is extinct, but one of the baronies belonging to
the family, that of Buckhurst, was, on the 27th of April, 1864, revived
by new patent of creation in favour of Elizabeth, present Countess
Delawarr, daughter and heiress of John Frederick, third Duke of Dorset,
with limitations to her younger sons and their issue male. Thus, oddly,
a descendant of the General Lord Delawarr who sat on the court-martial
of Lord George Sackville, may be bearing a title which belonged to Lord
George’s own ducal line.




               THE DOCKYARD INCENDIARY, JACK THE PAINTER.


The American War was in 1776 at its height, and though some successes
were for the moment cheering the spirits of the British Government, it
already required but little foresight to see how the contest would end.
The revolted colonies, with their declaration of independence, their
President and Congress, had virtually become a new empire among the
dominions of the world, and France was evidently about to give its aid
to their complete establishment. It was just at this period that
occurred the following extraordinary and execrable act of felony, the
work of a single villain, guided by a kind of morbid enthusiasm and
desire of notoriety. That Dr. Franklin, or Silas Deane, or the French
Court, had aught to do with the crime is not in the least credible. It
was, in a moment of war, the natural though questionable policy of the
British Crown and its officers to tinge as much as possible the cause of
the enemy. Hence the prisoner’s lying accounts of interviews with Mr.
Deane, and of other transactions abroad, were skilfully relied upon and
allowed to go forth as casting suspicion on the American and French
Governments. The incendiary, however, did not support his averments with
one tittle of evidence to inculpate any accomplice high or low, and so,
on maturer consideration, thought the British Government and the public;
for after the execution of the culprit, no political notice whatsoever
was taken of the charges he brought against either America or France. It
would, indeed, be an insult to the transcendent fame of Franklin, or the
high character of Deane, to for an instant suppose them sharers in such
atrocity. The burnings perpetrated by Jack the Painter are to be
ascribed to the wretch’s malignant nature alone.

To come to the shameful affair itself. A fire had happened in the
rope-house at Portsmouth on the 7th December, 1776, and had passed for
an accident; and as no suspicion had fallen on any one, no inquiry was
made about it, till, on the 15th of January, 1777, Mr. Russell, one of
the under-clerks of the dockyard, having occasion to use some hemp in
the hemp-house, discovered a tin machine, constructed for holding
matches, and in the cavity at bottom spirits of wine. The matches had
been lighted, and were nearly burnt out; but the fire had not reached
the spirits, the want of air, as it is supposed, having extinguished it
before it had its full effect. This left no room to doubt but that the
late fire was wilfully and maliciously contrived.

If it had burnt as low as the cross-lines, it would have caught the
matches placed on the sides, and would have burnt in four channels down
to the spirits, which would have set the whole place in a blaze. The
machine was made of tin, except the bottom, which was of wood. It was
about the size of a half-pound tea-canister.

The stores in the store-house, which would have been burnt if it had
caught fire, were sufficient to have rigged out fifty sail of ships.

It was then that the whole dockyard was alarmed. Some hundreds of
workmen were instantly drawn together, and every one looked at his
neighbour, convinced that whoever was the contriver of that machine, and
had placed it there, was the incendiary.

This called to mind every minute circumstance that had happened previous
to the breaking out of the fire on the day mentioned, and it occurred to
one that a fellow had been locked into the rope-house the night before;
to another, that a man, whose name was unknown, had been seen loitering
about the yard on the very day; and to others, that he was a painter and
had worked in the neighbourhood, and as he had never been seen there
after the fire, a strong suspicion arose that he must be some way or
other concerned in the mischief that had already been done, and also in
the diabolical design which providentially had been defeated. A singular
advertisement was issued, describing the person of the man, and under
the name of John the Painter, offering him a reward of £50 to surrender
himself to examination, and the same reward to any one who should
apprehend him. In the meantime other fires broke out, particularly at
Bristol, which could not otherwise be accounted for than by supposing
American agents employed to spread fire and devastation throughout the
kingdom, wherever their malignant purposes could be executed with
effect—an idea that favoured the prejudices of the vulgar, and therefore
was the more easily credited. It was not long, however, before Sir John
Fielding, the able police-magistrate (half-brother, by the way, of the
author of “Tom Jones”), found means to trace this John the Painter out,
and some time about the beginning of February he was apprehended at
Odiham, in Hants, for a burglary, and brought to town for examination.

The news of his commitment was soon spread; and it having been reported
that he had been in America, and had worked there as a painter, Richard
Earl Temple, K.G., P.C., desired one Baldwin, a painter, who had
likewise been in America, and had done business there, to attend his
examination before Sir John Fielding, to see if he could recollect him.
But Baldwin, upon looking at the man, and being asked the question,
frankly declared that he had never before seen him in his life. This
open declaration, after others, as he said, had borne false witness
against him, moved the prisoner in favour of Baldwin, and he expressed a
strong desire to cultivate an acquaintance with him, which Baldwin did
not decline, being encouraged to visit him as often as opportunity
offered, in order, if possible, to bring him to confession. This had the
desired effect, and brought the whole scene of iniquity to light. After
a regular attendance on him for fifteen days, sometimes once a day and
sometimes twice, the prisoner at length began to trust him, and to speak
openly. He told him that he had been in France; that he had there seen
Silas Deane, the American ambassador at the Court of Versailles; that
Silas Deane had given him some money and had encouraged him to set fire
to the dockyards at Portsmouth, Plymouth, Woolwich, &c., as the best
means of distressing Great Britain, and that he had promised to reward
him according to the service he should do to the American cause; and
that, as an earnest of what should follow, he had given him a
recommendation to, and bills upon, a merchant in London to the amount of
£300, which, however, he had found necessary to burn to prevent a
discovery; that, in consequence of this encouragement, he procured a
passport from the French king, which passport he lamented that he had
left at Portsmouth, with other things, in a bundle; that from France he
came to Canterbury, where he devised the machine which had been found in
the hemp-house, and had it there constructed; that before he left
Canterbury he had a quarrel with a dragoon; and that when he removed
from thence he directed his course to Portsmouth, where he prepared the
combustibles with which he afterwards set the place on fire. He
disclosed to Baldwin the secret of making the composition and the manner
of his applying it, and told him the circumstance of his being locked in
the rope-house; of his quarrelling with his landlady, on account of the
interruption she gave him in his operations; of her forcibly turning him
out of her house; of his taking another lodging; of the difficulty he
had in lighting his matches; of his purchasing other matches; of his
flight from Portsmouth in a woman’s cart; with many other particulars.

The prisoner was committed, and his trial came on at the assizes for
Hampshire, on the 6th March, 1777, at Winchester, before Sir William
Henry Ashurst, Knt., a judge of the Court of King’s Bench, and Sir
Beaumont Hotham, Knt., a baron of the Exchequer.

The grand jury which had found the bill against the prisoner had for
foreman Henry, second Viscount Palmerston, father of the late
illustrious premier.

The counsel who appeared for the Crown were William Davy,
serjeant-at-law; Mr. Mansfield (afterwards Sir James Mansfield,
Solicitor-General, and subsequently Lord Chief Justice of the Court of
Common Pleas); Mr. Missing; Mr. Buller (afterwards Sir Francis Buller,
Bart., a judge of the Courts of King’s Bench and Common Pleas); and Mr.
Fielding.

The prisoner appears to have had no counsel, but to have acted for
himself throughout the whole trial.

The indictment was thus opened by Mr. Fielding:—

“May it please your lordships and you gentlemen of the jury, this is an
indictment against the prisoner at the bar for a crime of so atrocious
and uncommon a nature, as to render it impossible to affix any epithet
to the crime descriptive of its enormity. This is, gentlemen, the first
instance of its existence, and I hope in God it will be the last. The
indictment, you have perceived already, turns upon three counts: the
prisoner at the bar is first charged for setting fire to a quantity of
hemp and ropes particularly specified; the second count is for setting
fire to a certain building erected in the dockyard, called the
rope-house: the third count is for firing His Majesty’s naval stores.
Gentlemen, the matter will be more fully opened to you by the learned
and experienced gentleman who leads this business, and I doubt not but
your verdict will be satisfactory to your country.”

Mr. Serjeant Davy then stated the case, commencing thus:—

“May it please your lordships and you gentlemen of the jury, I am of
counsel in this case for the king in the prosecution of the prisoner at
the bar, who is described by the name of James Hill, otherwise James
Hinde, otherwise James Actzen, for setting fire to the rope-house at
Portsmouth dock, belonging to the Crown, the place where the cordage is
made to supply the king’s navy, and which crime is constituted a capital
felony by an Act of Parliament made in the twelfth year of his present
Majesty (12 Geo. III., c. 24), till when it had not entered the
imagination of man that such a crime could be committed at all. It will
be unnecessary for me to expatiate upon the nature of the offence; that
has nothing to do with the prisoner at the bar, any more than as he was
an agent in the commission of it; and it will be necessary for me,
therefore, to mention to you only those particulars that we have to lay
before you in evidence, by which to affix the crime upon the prisoner,
and to submit to you, upon the consideration of those facts, whether he
is or is not guilty of the charge in the indictment.”

The learned serjeant then went through the whole of the evidence he was
about to produce, and concluded thus:—

“The tenth part of these circumstances, which I have opened, would
serve, I should think to decide the fate of any man standing in the
prisoner’s situation; but it is the wish of the public, it is the wish
of the Government, that all the world should know the infamy of this
transaction, and that they should know to whom they are indebted for the
sorrows they have felt, and how much they owe to the Providence of God,
that America has not been able totally to destroy this country, and to
make it bow its neck, not only to the yoke of America, but to the most
petty sovereign in Europe; for let the English navy be destroyed—and
here was a hand ready to effect it;—let but the English navy be
destroyed, and there is an end of all we hold dear and valuable. The
importance of the subject, the magnitude, the extraordinary nature of
the thing calls for a more particular investigation than any other
subject, of what kind soever, could demand; and therefore I need, I
hope, make no apology for having descended so particularly into these
minute, if any of them can be called minute, particulars of this story;
we shall prove all these circumstances to the full, and surely there can
be no doubt what shall be done with the man. I shall be glad to hear
what he has to say for himself; and I shall be glad if he is able to lay
this guilt at any body’s door besides those to whom he has laid it. I
wish Mr. Silas Deane were here; a time may come, perhaps, when he and
Dr. Franklin may be here.”

_Prisoner_: He is the honestest man in the world.

The testimony adduced was overwhelming, but as the prisoner’s subsequent
confession fully relates every incident, it is needless to go here into
the details. Suffice it to state that the lad who made the canister, the
dragoon with whom the prisoner quarrelled at Canterbury, the woman at
whose house he lodged at Portsmouth, the man who let him out of the
rope-house, the persons who saw him in the dockyard, the woman who sold
him the matches, the woman who took him up in her cart in his flight
from Portsmouth, and last of all the bundle in which was his passport
from France, with the identical articles in it, which he had specially
mentioned to Baldwin; all these were produced in addition to and
confirmation of Baldwin, who proved what he had heard from the prisoner
himself.

One incident which occurred, while Baldwin was giving his evidence, is
curious as showing how such statesmen as Silas Deane and Benjamin
Franklin were at that time thought and spoken of in England; it was
this:—

_Baldwin_: I mentioned to him about my family, that I had my son with me
now in London; he was desirous to see him. I told him my wife was very
much indisposed, which he said he was sorry for. I waited upon him from
day to day, till the 15th February; on that day he told me all the
particulars; he asked me if I knew one Mr. Deane. I told him “No;” he
said, “Not Mr. Deane who is employed by the Congress at Paris?”

_Prisoner_: I remark to the witness that there is a righteous Judge, who
also giveth righteous judgment; beware of what you say concerning that
Mr. Deane. Perjure not yourself; you are in the sight of God, and all
this company is.

_Baldwin_: The prisoner said, “What, not Silas Deane?” I told him “No;”
he said “He is a fine clever fellow, and I believe Benjamin Franklin is
employed in the same errand.” He said he had taken a view of most of the
dockyards and fortifications throughout England, and particularly the
number of guns that each ship in the navy had, and likewise the guns in
the fortifications, the weight of their metal, and the number of men;
and he had been at Paris two or three times, to inform Mr. Silas Deane
of the particulars of what he found in examining the dockyards.

_Prisoner_: Consider, in the sight of God, what you say concerning Silas
Deane.

_Counsel for the Crown_: You need not be afraid. Silas Deane is not
here; he will be hanged in due time.

_Prisoner_: I hope not; he is a very honest man.

The only piece of evidence (beyond the prisoner’s own statements) by
which the Crown could throw out an inference that he was tampered with
by a foreign power, was the French passport produced; but as at its date
England was not at war with France, such a document might have been
procured as a matter of course.

The translation of the passport, which was read in court, was as
follows:—

“Exhibited at the Office of Marine, at Calais. By the king. To all
governors and our lieutenant-generals of our provinces and armies,
governors particular, and commanders of our towns, places, and troops;
and to all others our officers justiciary, and subjects to whom it shall
belong—Health. We will and command you very expressly to let pass safely
and freely, Mr. James Actzen, going to England; without giving him or
suffering him to have any hindrance; but on the contrary, every aid and
assistance that he shall want or have occasion for. This present
passport to be valid for one month only, for such is our pleasure. Given
at Fontainbleau, the 13th of November, 1776.

“LOUIS. By the king, DE VERGENNES. Gratis.”

After the accused had made a very rambling defence, impugning Baldwin’s
veracity, the judge summed up clearly and minutely, and the jury almost
immediately found the prisoner _Guilty_.

The prisoner was then asked in the usual form what he had to say why
sentence of death should not be passed upon him, to which he replied, “I
have nothing to say.”

Mr. Baron Hotham pronounced judgment as follows:—

“Prisoner, you have been indicted, tried, and convicted of a crime which
the law of this country has thought fit to make capital, and now the
most painful moment that I have undergone in the course of this trial is
arrived, for it is my duty to pass upon you that dreadful sentence. I
shall not interrupt those feelings which I trust you have by talking to
you of the enormity of the offence which you have committed, because it
is impossible for me, or any man who hears me, to add a word by way of
aggravation to it, and it has this in particular about it, that it
cannot have been committed from any motives of private malice, revenge,
or lucre. It can have proceeded only from a general malignity of mind,
which has broke out in a desire and a design, not only to ruin one
devoted individual, but to involve every one of this audience, nay, the
whole English nation perhaps, in immediate ruin. You cannot, therefore,
be surprised that the law has thought fit to punish such a crime with
death. You can as little be surprised if, after you have been convicted
upon the clearest evidence of this offence, I can give you no hope of
pardon.[11] It is impossible for me to say a word on your behalf, and
therefore I must entreat and conjure you, in the most solemn manner, to
prepare yourself during the few days you have to live, to meet the great
God in another world, and to ask him there for that pardon which you
could not receive in this; there it will be worth receiving; and
atrocious as your crime has been, short as the time is that you have to
live, a sincere repentance now on your part may, and I hope in God will,
procure you mercy at His hands. I say all this not to taunt or distress
you in your present unhappy situation, but merely from motives of
humanity and religion. For you cannot be suffered to live in this world;
you must die, and that within a very few days. And therefore, before you
go into eternity, for your soul’s sake do what you can, that that
eternity may be an eternity of bliss instead of misery. I have only now
to pronounce the painful[12] sentence of the law which I am bound to do,
and I accordingly adjudge and order you to be hanged by the neck until
you shall be dead; and the Lord have mercy upon your soul.”

The Prisoner: “My lord, I am exceedingly well satisfied.”

On the morning after his condemnation, he informed the turnkey of his
own spontaneous accord that he felt an earnest desire of confessing his
crime, and laying the history of his life before the public; and that,
by discovering the whole of his unaccountable plots and treasonable
practices, he might make some atonement to his most injured country for
the wrongs he had done, of which he was now truly sensible, and a
repentant sinner.

This request being made known to John, fourth Earl of Sandwich, then
First Lord of the Admiralty, that nobleman directed Sir John Fielding to
send down proper persons to take and attest his confession. The culprit
confessed accordingly, and the statement signed by him, and dated 7th
March, 1777, was attested by George Durnford and N. P. Smith, Esqs.,
Justices of the Peace for the city of Winchester. It tallies with the
more lengthy account of his hideous career which the prisoner also drew
out, signed, and left for publication.

The prisoner was carried from Winchester Gaol on the 10th March, 1777,
to Portsmouth, where it was appointed he should be executed at the dock
gate.

Having been carried in an open cart by the hemp-house, and round the
ruins of the rope-house, when he came opposite the commissioner’s house
he desired to speak with the commissioner, who thereupon went up close
to him. He said:—

“Sir, I acknowledge my crime, and hope for forgiveness from God, through
the merits of my Saviour Jesus Christ. I ask pardon of you, sir, and
hope your forgiveness.”

Upon the cart’s moving, he said, “he had one thing more to observe as a
caution to all the commissioners of the dockyards throughout England, to
be more vigilant and strictly careful of them for the future, because it
is in the power of a determined and resolute man to do a great deal of
mischief.” As the cart stopped at the end of the rope-house, he looked
attentively at the scene of his offence, and said, “I acknowledge my
crime, and am sorry for it.” On returning out of the dockyard, upon
being asked if he had anything more to say to the commissioner, he said,
“No; only I recommend great care and strict vigilance at the dockyards
at Chatham, Woolwich, Deptford, Portsmouth, and Plymouth, and
particularly at the rope-house at the latter.” Just before he was turned
off he said:—

“I acknowledge the justness of my sentence, and hope for forgiveness, as
I forgive all the world. I wish success to His Majesty King George and
his family, and all his loyal subjects, and I hope for forgiveness of
all the transactions that I have been guilty of from the year 1772,
since my apprenticeship, and the world will be satisfied about me, as my
life will be very soon in print.”

The convict then giving the signal, was drawn up by the pulleys to the
top of the gibbet, which was made of the mizen mast of the _Arethusa_
frigate, and was sixty-four feet and a half high. He hung one hour, and
was taken down and suspended in chains on Blockhouse Port, at the mouth
of Portsmouth Harbour, where his body remained gibbetted for several
years.

The prisoner’s full confession was published after his death, and it
forms so extraordinary a narrative, that the major portion of it may not
be inappropriately inserted here. It runs as follows:—

“I drew my first breath at Edinburgh, in Scotland. My father, David
Aitken, was a whitesmith, which business he for many years carried on in
a creditable way. I was brought up in the persuasion of a Protestant
dissenter, and being the only son, was treated with that paternal
affection which, by gratifying all my desires, begot in me the most
stubborn and obdurate disposition. At nine years of age I was placed in
Heriot’s Hospital at Edinburgh, a charitable foundation of the same kind
with Christ’s Hospital in London, where, continuing for six years, and
having the advantage of a liberal education and a natural taste for
drawing, I was at the age of fifteen apprenticed to an eminent painter
in the city of Edinburgh, and I served the whole of my apprenticeship,
much to my own credit, and to the satisfaction of my master. My leisure
hours were generally employed in reading the most favourite subjects of
the marvellous kind, such as the desperate expeditions and engagements
of brave men both by sea and land. At the expiration of my
apprenticeship, I set off with my mind thus prepared to seek my fortune.
I had before lost my father, whose sudden death prevented him from
placing me in business under his own eye, as was his original intention.
His circumstances were such as could not enable him to make provision
for me equal to the notions I had entertained. I had very early
contracted an itch for the service, and notwithstanding the affairs of
my father, I had yet hopes of procuring a commission in the land forces.
I applied to my mother to assist in importuning my friends and relations
to serve me in this particular. But our endeavours were in vain, and I
saw the object of my ambition beyond my reach. I therefore, in a fit of
resentment, embarked for London with all the money I could scrape
together, not doubting but I should get into some creditable employ
before it was all spent.

“On my arrival in the great metropolis, I applied to people in the
painting way, and immediately got into employ. But business not long
agreeing with my inclination, and having formed an acquaintance with
some extravagant young men, by whom I was led into all manner of vice
and debauchery, I soon found the last farthing of my little pittance
expended. In this condition, deserted by my companions, and in a strange
country, I determined to relieve myself on the highway. I accordingly
provided myself with pistols, and without the least concern or
apprehension of danger, proceeded to Finchley Common. Perceiving a
post-chaise, I made up to it, and with a discharge of one of my pistols,
demanded them to stop. My success in the first attack tempted me to
proceed, so that before midnight came on I had robbed several carriages
and horsemen, and upon the whole had collected a considerable booty. I
returned to London with great satisfaction, and finding out my old
companions, informed them I had just received a large sum of money. They
congratulated me on my good fortune, and readily took me again into
their party. I observed myself advertised, and an exact description of
my person and dress in all the papers. It was therefore my first care to
change my clothes and make every alteration in my person I could
possibly devise, and it was my fortune to escape undiscovered. My own
excess and that of my companions soon reduced me to the last shilling;
at length, dreading the consequences of a detection, I determined to
seize the first opportunity of leaving the kingdom. America presented
itself to my imagination, and I readily believed it would turn out most
to my advantage. Hearing of a vessel bound to America, I made
application to the master, Captain John Robertson, who took me into his
service: but not having money to provide myself with such things as were
necessary for the voyage, I indented myself to him till such time as I
should pay him twenty-four pounds Virginia money, and then was to have
my full liberty. Soon after my arrival in Virginia, Captain Robertson
having taken in a freight for England, consigned me over to one Mr.
Graham, of James’ Town. But as it never was my intention to remain
longer with the captain than suited my convenience, I immediately
quitted the service of Mr. Graham, and travelled up the country through
Maryland, till I arrived at Philadelphia. From thence I went to Amboy,
and got employment in the painting business; but hearing there was
better encouragement at New York, I made the best of my way to that
city, where I received better wages, and remained very well satisfied
for a considerable time. Upon hearing of the riots at Boston, the
restlessness of my disposition would not suffer me to remain any longer
at New York, and meeting with a companion, we agreed to set out together
for that place, and I cannot deny being very active in those riots,
particularly in sinking the tea, and insulting the friends of
Government. When I heard of the armaments raising in Great Britain
against America, and the expectation of a British fleet at Boston, I
thought it advisable to leave the place, and therefore took the
opportunity of a vessel and went to North Carolina, where meeting with
another vessel bound to England, I got leave to work my passage home,
and arrived at Liverpool in May, 1775. As soon as I had landed, having
no money, I enlisted into a recruiting party, and received twenty-six
shillings, with which in a few days I deserted, intending to go to
Shrewsbury. In my way between Warrington and Holmes Chapel, I broke into
a little shop and stole several handkerchiefs, &c. By the time I left
Shrewsbury my money was nearly exhausted, upon which I broke into a shop
and robbed it of a quantity of halfpence and about five shillings in
silver, and I made off in the night for Birmingham. Soon after I arrived
at Birmingham I purchased a pistol and several picklocks, and after
pilfering a number of shops, I left Birmingham and took the road to
Coventry. In my way to that city I broke open a house in a little town a
few miles from it, where I stole a great quantity of handkerchiefs, &c.,
with which before daylight I reached Coventry.

“On my arrival at Coventry I met with another recruiting party, into
which I also enlisted. I received half a guinea earnest, with which I
absconded in the morning. I went to a hedge a little way out of the
town, where I had secreted the handkerchiefs, and set off with them on
my return towards London. I continued in London almost four months,
where I got into connexion with some women of the town, which led me to
commit a number of street robberies for my support. I also broke open a
house at Kensington, and committed several robberies upon the outskirts
of London.”

Here follows a detail of other fraudulent enlistments and felonious
offences committed by him in various parts of England. He then comes to
the great crime which brought him to the scaffold:—

“One night being in conversation concerning the American war, the
importance of His Majesty’s fleets and dockyards was the argument, and
it was with satisfaction I heard every one agree that the safety, the
welfare, and even the existence of the nation depended on them. I
endeavoured to keep the conversation up as much as possible, and the
more it was canvassed, the more evident was the truth of the former
conclusion. It is amazing with what force this conversation kept
possession of my mind. In the night I had a thousand ideas, and all
tended to show how important would be the event in favour of America,
provided these dockyards and shipping should be destroyed. The more I
considered, the more plausible was the undertaking. I spent two days in
the contemplation of this malicious design, and promised myself immortal
honour in the accomplishment of it. I beheld it in the light of a truly
heroic enterprise, such as never would have been equalled to the end of
time. I was persuaded it would entitle me to the first rank in America,
and flattered myself with the ambition of becoming the admiration of the
world! I set off for Portsmouth to inform myself of the particular
situation, as also of the materials and stores with which these
magazines were composed. I took account of all the ships of war in the
harbour, their force and the number of men. I also took a plan of the
fortifications unnoticed by the sentinels, the number of guns mounted on
them, and their weight of metal. From hence I went to Plymouth, where I
found things in much the same situation. My next care was to visit
Chatham with the same circumspect attention, and in which I conducted
myself with the same success. From hence I went to the yards at Woolwich
and Deptford, and in both places informed myself of everything material.
Having spared no labour in perfecting this general survey, I formed a
design of going over to America to lay my plans and observations before
the Congress, as well as to procure their sanction to the undertaking.
After a deal of argument with myself, I at length resolved to proceed to
Mr. Silas Deane and Dr. Franklin at Paris. I re-examined all my plans,
threw my observations into proper order, and secreted them in a private
part of my clothes to prevent an accidental discovery; and having made
every other necessary preparation for my departure, I made the best of
my way to Canterbury and Dover.

“I hired a small sailing boat to take me over. I embarked with only two
hands, and in less than nine hours landed at Calais without any further
difficulty. I made my way pretty readily and expeditiously to Paris,
sometimes taking the advantage of a carriage, and sometimes walking on
foot. My first inquiry at Paris was to find out the lodgings of Mr.
Silas Deane. I called upon him at two different times, but did not meet
with him at home. I at last saw him on the _Pont Neuf_ in Paris. He
treated me at first with great caution and indifference, but finding my
solicitations very earnest, he desired I would meet him the next morning
at his lodgings. I called on him at the time appointed, and was
conducted into an elegant apartment, where he was waiting for me. To
make myself of as much consequence as possible, I informed him that I
had a plantation in America; that I was an utter enemy to Great Britain;
that I had contrived a scheme which, if properly carried into execution,
would effectually destroy the power of the Ministry, and throw the
kingdom into the greatest confusion, if not into the hands of America.
He expressed great surprise at my conversation, and desired me to give
him an explanation of my meaning. I laid before him all my plans, and he
at length seemed satisfied that it was practicable, and gave me a letter
to a friend in London to supply me with money; and as soon as my pass
was procured, I set off for Calais, and arrived at Dover, which place I
immediately left, and took the road to Canterbury and Chatham. Here I
spent two days in making some fresh observations on the ships and
dockyards, after which I set out for London, in order to take road for
Portsmouth.

“I arrived at Portsmouth on Thursday evening, the 5th of December, 1776,
and immediately began to lay down a plan of operations. I concluded that
in so large a place a number of fire engines were kept, and that on the
first alarm they would fly to the assistance of the dock, and perhaps
extinguish the fire before any considerable damage could be done. To
prevent this I thought it would be necessary to set the town on fire at
two different parts, imagining that the surprise and consternation which
it would naturally occasion would prevent people from giving assistance
to either, till the flames had made such progress as not to be got
under. In the morning I applied at two houses for lodgings, one of which
was occupied by Mrs. Boxell. I agreed with her for them. I left my
bundle with her and said I should return in the evening. From hence I
went to a public-house, refreshed myself, and engaged also for a bed. My
next care was to visit the dockyard. My first intention was to set fire
to the hemp-house, in which I secreted myself behind a large mow or
bundle of hemp, supposing there was no danger of being discovered,
although a number of men were employed in different parts of the
building, under which I placed my combustibles, and intending to go in
about two hours afterwards to set it on fire. But lest this should not
take proper effect or be extinguished before it could communicate itself
to other parts of the yard, I thought it would be more effectual to set
fire to some other store-house also. In walking round the yard I
observed the rope-house open, into which I went, and having gone all
over it up stairs and down, I pitched upon a room containing a parcel of
ropes and some hemp, which I thought a very proper place to set on fire.
I went away and returned with two quarts of the spirits of turpentine,
some gunpowder, and some touch-paper which I had previously made. I drew
the cork from one of the bottles, and having prepared a train of hemp
soaked in the spirits, I filled the neck of the bottle therewith, which
I placed among the ropes, and covered it over with a quantity of refuse
hemp which I found lying about. I placed the bottle upon its side, and
put the train of hemp into a paper of dry gunpowder, and having covered
the whole lightly over with hemp, I sprinkled the remaining spirits of
turpentine upon the whole. I now pulled out my pistol tinder-box and
endeavoured to strike a light in order to set it on fire; but the tinder
being either damp or badly burnt, would not take fire. The attention
with which I was endeavouring to light my match prevented me from
observing the time, and therefore when I had found it impossible to
strike a light, and was preparing to go to my lodgings, I found myself
locked into the house. I was a little uneasy upon this occasion for fear
of raising suspicion, particularly as I should be obliged to appear
again to light the matches, which I had now failed in. I went from one
end of the building to the other, which was of a prodigious length, and
tried every door I could find, but all was fast. I went up stairs very
gently for fear of being heard, intending to make my escape from one of
the windows; but this I also found impossible. I then went back to the
door at which I came in, and knocked for a considerable time. At last a
lad came up and asked who was there. I told him I was a friend, and had
come into the dockyard out of curiosity, having never been at Portsmouth
before, and while I went up stairs to see this great building somebody
had locked up the doors. I therefore begged he would let me out. He went
away to call some other person, who directed me to a certain door in the
building, at which he said I might let myself out. In order to allay
their suspicion, I appeared to be very ignorant in every respect, and
asked them a number of simple questions, for I very much expected to be
taken into custody.

“I went to a public house to refresh myself, and from thence to my
lodgings, at Mrs. Boxell’s. I went to bed and slept till about five
o’clock in the morning of Saturday, the 7th of December, when I struck a
light and got up. My first business was to mix up proper combustibles to
set that house on fire, and the public-house I had before taken lodgings
at. The sulphureous smell occasioned by the flammable articles brought
up Mrs. Boxell, who in a violent passion burst open the door, asked me
whether I was setting the room on fire, and insisted upon my leaving her
house, saying she was sure I could have no good design. Finding her in
earnest, I thought it most prudent to quit her lodgings without entering
into further dispute, which could only tend to injure my business; so I
took my bundle and walked almost two hours round Portsmouth Common to
seek for another lodging. Observing a house in North Street which seemed
to answer my purpose, I went in and agreed for a lodging, saying I was
going a little way out of town, but should return in the evening; in the
meanwhile desired the woman of the house (Mrs. Cole) to take care of my
bundle.

“My next object was to accomplish the business in the dockyard. I went
first to the hemp-house, and after waiting a safe opportunity, got into
the room where I had left the materials, struck a light with my pistol
tinder-box, and lighted the candle which I had before placed in the tin
case under the hemp. I since find that this machine did not take effect.
Having, as I thought, effectually completed my business here, I directed
my steps towards the rope-house, and after waiting almost two hours, I
took an opportunity of lighting the match that communicated to the
gunpowder, which I believe took effect in about an hour and a half. The
instant I had finished I quitted the dockyard, intending to go
immediately to set fire to both my lodgings; but meeting a person near
the dock gates who knew me when I worked at Titchfield during the time I
was making my observations, and seeing him look at me very steadfastly,
and recollecting at the same instant the affair at Boxell’s, I ran very
precipitately out of town without giving myself time to call for my
bundle, dreading an information, and the consequence of being taken into
custody. When I had gone a little way out of town, I overtook a cart
going from market, and in order to make more haste and be less observed,
I prevailed with the woman who drove the cart to give me a lift, telling
her I had to go to Petersfield that night, and would make her any
satisfaction. I travelled all night without intermission, and arrived
upon Kingston-upon-Thames about eleven o’clock on Sunday morning, where
I stayed upwards of three hours to refresh myself.

“On my arrival in London, I concluded myself out of danger, and began to
ruminate on my plan for the destruction of Plymouth; and arrived at
Plymouth, and went with a design to visit the dockyard; but to my great
surprise found the guard stricter, and the admission of strangers
objected to, occasioned, as I was informed, by the burning of Portsmouth
dock, which was supposed to have been purposely set on fire.”

He then enters into a detail of his attempt at Plymouth, where he could
do nothing effectually owing to the vigilance of the sentinels. He
thereupon turned his mind to Bristol:—

“Very much vexed at my disappointment, I determined to make the best of
my way to Bristol; and as I was disappointed at Plymouth, resolved to
destroy Bristol entirely and all the shipping. I arrived at Bristol on
Monday, the 13th of January, and spent the whole of Tuesday, the 14th,
in acquainting myself with the shipping, upon which I intended to make
the first attempt, supposing, if I had any success, they would
communicate the flames to the whole town. About midnight I proceeded
with all my materials towards the quay. I got on board the _Savannah la
Mar_, a Jamaicaman, and placed a quantity of turpentine, rosin, pitch,
&c., round the mizen mast, to which I set fire. I then went on board the
_La Fame_, another Jamaicaman, which lay at a little distance, in which
I also placed a like quantity of combustible matter, and set fire to it.
I then proceeded to another part of the quay, and got on board the
_Hibernia_, an Irish trader, in which I placed a like quantity of
inflammable materials, and a quart bottle of spirits of turpentine, to
which I also set fire. I then broke open a warehouse belonging to a
druggist, in Cypher Lane, supposing there were large quantities of oils
and spirits of different kinds, which would occasion a dreadful fire in
that part of the town. I set fire to a box in the middle of the
warehouse, which I supposed would soon communicate to all parts of it.
Having, as I thought, effected my business very complete, I walked
almost four miles out of town, and stayed till near eight o’clock in the
morning; but not perceiving anything of the fire, I returned to see
whether it had taken effect, which I could do without suspicion, as I
supposed people would see that I had just come into town. I went to the
quay, where I observed one vessel, the _Savannah la Mar_, was much
burnt; but the fire in the other two had gone out without taking effect.
I also found I had miscarried in Cypher Lane, where the box of
combustible matter had burnt out without doing any damage, which I
thought very extraordinary, as I made sure of burning all that part of
the town by this means. I was mostly vexed at the miscarriage among the
shipping, as I found a strict watch was to be kept up in future which
rendered all future attempts upon them impracticable; I thought of one
scheme, however, which I had some hopes of succeeding in. Observing a
vast number of barrels of oil upon the quay, situated very near a line
of ships, I contrived the ensuing night to convey a large quantity of
combustible materials amongst them, to which I set fire, hoping by this
means to burn all the ships that lay near: but herein also I found
myself disappointed; my matches went out without effecting the intended
mischief, though greatly to my mortification. About two o’clock the next
morning I proceeded to my new business, having the evening before fixed
upon a number of warehouses, which I supposed, as it was now Sunday
morning, would not be frequented, and therefore little danger of the
fire being discovered till it had taken proper effect. I laid matches in
upwards of a dozen warehouses, which I supposed would take fire before
daylight, and from their number and situation be impossible to be got
under, so that I promised myself I had accomplished the destruction of
the whole town, or at least that part of it which was of most
consequence. With this persuasion I left Bristol about six o’clock in
the morning, and walked about three miles out of town, when turning
round, I thought the whole element was in flames, so dreadful was the
appearance it had at that distance, which tempted me to return to be an
eyewitness of the destruction I had wrought. On my nearer approach the
flames seemed to abate; but I found the whole city in consternation and
terror; though my scheme had not answered my full intention. My matches
had only taken effect in Quay Lane among the warehouses of Mr. Browne,
bookseller, which occasioned a dreadful fire in that part of the town:
in every other part I found my endeavours had failed. To compensate for
this, I determined to make a fresh attempt on the Sunday night, and made
every preparation for that purpose. Between one and two o’clock on
Monday morning I set about this business, but was prevented by the
vigilance of the watch raised by the inhabitants of the city, to patrol
the streets, which obliged me to decline anything further that night. I
made several fresh attempts the Monday and Tuesday nights following, but
the patrol were too vigilant to allow me time to proceed. I therefore
left Bristol, finding it impossible to complete my design.

“I now determined to make the best of my way to Paris, to acquaint Mr.
Deane with my success, and I reached Calne, where observing a
haberdasher’s shop, kept by one Mr. Lowe, I broke it open, and stole
therefrom twenty pounds, some muslin, &c. It was to this little town
that Mr. Lowe, whose shop I had broken open, and Mr. Dalby, keeper of
Andover Bridewell, had both traced me. Mr. Lowe had got a description of
my person from his wife, who observed me take particular notice of the
shop, and concluded the next day that I had committed the burglary. Mr.
Dalby had heard of my going through Andover, and finding I answered the
description of the person advertised in the papers for setting fire to
Portsmouth Dock, he set out in pursuit of me, and took me at this town,
in whose custody Mr. Lowe found me on his arrival shortly after. I was
taken before the Hon. Sir H. P. St. John, Knt., who committed me to
Odiham Bridewell on suspicion of breaking open Mr. Lowe’s house; but
Government having notice of my being in custody ordered me to the New
Prison, Clerkenwell, to be examined before Sir John Fielding, relative
to the fire at Portsmouth. Nothing appearing sufficiently strong against
me to prove guilt in this particular, I was remanded back to New Prison,
in order to be conveyed to Salisbury to take my trial for breaking open
Mr. Lowe’s house; but my being decoyed into the trap set for me by Mr.
Baldwin, to whom I disclosed the whole of my proceedings against
Government, has brought me a death which the enormity of my crime
deserves; but which, through sincere repentance, I hope will be forgiven
as I forgive Mr. Baldwin and all the world.—James Aitken.”


A debate in Parliament on the subject of Jack the Painter and his
offences led to a speech by Sir William Meredith against capital
punishments, which was so remarkable for being uttered at that terrible
penal period of our criminal jurisprudence, that I cannot refrain from
inserting the whole of it here. The occasion was this:—On the 13th of
May, 1777, the House of Commons sat in committee on a bill for the
better securing and preserving the dockyards, magazines, ships, vessels,
stores, warehouses, goods, and merchandizes, being the property of
private persons within this kingdom.

Sir Charles Bunbury, M.P. for Suffolk, moved to the effect, that persons
found guilty of offences against which the bill provided should not be
punished with death.

Mr. Combe, of Earns Hill, Somerset, M.P. for Aldborough, Suffolk,
thereupon thus expressed himself:—

“Whoever reads your statute book and sees how many crimes are punished
with death, which are much less heinous than burning of ships, I am
surprised any gentleman should it think not high time to put to death
such dangerous and wicked incendiaries. It is true John the Painter was
hanged for burning Portsmouth Dock, because there is an Act of
Parliament that makes it death to burn royal docks: but there is no Act
of Parliament to hang men for burning merchants’ ships or warehouses;
and if John the Painter had burned all the ships and warehouses in
Bristol, he would not have been hanged. And I think the example of death
full as proper in one case as the other.”

The Right Hon. Sir Wm. Meredith, M.P. for Liverpool, thus eloquently
replied to Mr. Combe:—

“I agree with my hon. friend that no greater crime can be committed than
the wilfully setting fire to merchants’ ships, which may endanger not
only lives and properties, but public safety. I should think this crime
above all others fit to be punished with death, if I could suppose the
infliction of death at all useful in the prevention of crimes. But, in
subjects of this nature, we are to consider not what the individual is
nor what he may have done, we are to consider only what is right for
public example and private safety. Whether hanging ever did or can
answer any good purpose, I doubt; but the cruel exhibition of every
execution day is a proof that hanging carries no terror with it; and I
am confident that every new sanguinary law operates as an encouragement
to commit capital offences; for it is not the mode but the certainty of
punishment that creates terror. What men know they must endure, they
fear; but what they think they can escape, they despise. The
multiplicity of our hanging laws has produced these two things,
frequency of condemnation and frequency of pardons. As hope is the first
and great spring of action, if it was so, that out of twenty convicts
only one was to be pardoned, the thief would say, ‘Why may not I be that
one?’ But since, as our laws are actually administered, not one in five
is executed, the thief acts on the chance of five to one in his favour;
he acts on a fair and reasonable presumption of indemnity: and I verily
believe that the confident hope of indemnity is the cause of nineteen in
twenty of the robberies that are committed. But if we look to the
executions themselves, what example do they give? The thief dies either
hardened or penitent. We are not to consider such reflections as occur
to reasonable and good men, but such impressions as are made on the
thoughtless, the desperate, and the wicked. These men look on the
hardened villain with envy and admiration. All that animation and
contempt of death with which heroes and martyrs inspire good men in a
good cause, the abandoned villain feels in seeing a desperado, like
himself, meet death with intrepidity. The penitent thief, on the other
hand, often makes the sober villain think this way. Himself oppressed
with poverty and want, he sees a man die with that penitence which
promised pardon for his sins here and happiness hereafter: that he
thinks, that by robbery, forgery, or murder, he can relieve all his
wants; and if he be brought to justice the punishment will be short and
trifling, and the reward eternal. Even in crimes which are seldom or
never pardoned, death is no prevention. Housebreakers, forgers, and
coiners, are sure to be hanged; yet housebreaking, forging, and coining,
are the very crimes which are oftenest committed. Strange it is, that,
in the case of blood, of which we ought to be most tender, we should
still go on against reason and against experience, to make unavailing
slaughter of our fellow creatures! A recent event has proved that policy
will do what blood cannot do: I mean the late regulation of the coinage.
Thirty years together men were continually hanged for coining; still it
went on, but, on the new regulation of the gold coin, ceased. This event
proves these two things: the efficacy of police and the inefficacy of
hanging. But is it not very extraordinary that, since the regulation of
the gold coin, an Act has passed making it treason to coin silver? But
has it stopped the coining of silver? On the contrary, do not you hear
of it more than ever? It seems as if the law and the crime bore the same
date. I do not know what the hon. member thinks who brought in the bill;
but perhaps some feelings may come across his own mind when he sees how
many lives he is taking away for no purpose. Had it been fairly stated
and specifically pointed out what the mischief in coining silver in the
utmost extent is, that hanging bill might not have been so readily
adopted: under the name of treason it found an easy passage. I, indeed,
have always understood treason to be nothing less than some act or
conspiracy against the life or honour of the king and the safety of the
state; but what the king or state can suffer by my taking now and then a
bad sixpence or a bad shilling I cannot imagine. By this nickname of
treason, however, there lies at this moment in Newgate, under sentence
to be burnt alive, a girl just turned of fourteen. At her master’s
bidding she hid some whitewashed farthings behind her stays; on which
the jury found her guilty as an accomplice with her master in the
treason. The master was hanged last Wednesday, and the fagots all lay
ready—no reprieve came till just as the cart was setting out—and the
girl would have been burnt alive on the same day had it not been for the
humane but casual interference of Lord Weymouth. Good God! Sir, are we
taught to execrate the fires at Smithfield, and are we lighting them now
to burn a poor harmless child for hiding a whitewashed farthing? And yet
this barbarous sentence, which ought to make men shudder at the thought
of shedding blood for such trivial causes, is brought as a reason for
more hanging and burning. It was recommended to me not many days ago to
bring in a bill to make it treason to coin copper as well as gold and
silver. Yet in the formation of these sanguinary laws humanity, religion
and policy are thrown out of the question. This one wise argument is
always sufficient. If you hang for one fault, why not for another? If
for stealing a sheep, why not a cow or a horse; if for a shilling, why
not for a handkerchief worth eighteen pence; and so on? We therefore
ought to oppose the increase of these new laws; the more, because every
fresh one begets twenty others.

“When a member of Parliament brings in a new hanging law, he begins with
mentioning some injury that may be done to private property, for which a
man is not yet liable to be hanged, and then proposes the gallows as the
specific infallible means of cure and prevention; but the bill in its
progress often makes crimes capital that scarce deserve whipping. For
instance, the shoplifting act was to prevent bankers and silversmiths,
and other shops where there are commonly goods of great value, from
being robbed; but it goes so far as to make it death to lift anything
off a counter with an intent to steal. Under this act, Mary Jones was
executed, whose case I shall just mention. It was at the time when press
warrants were issued on the alarm about Falkland’s Islands. The woman’s
husband was pressed, their goods seized for some debts of his, and she,
with two small children, turned into the streets a-begging. ’Tis a
circumstance not to be forgotten that she was very young (under
nineteen), and most remarkably handsome. She went to a linendraper’s
shop, took some coarse linen off the counter, and slipped it under her
cloak; the shopman saw her, and she laid it down. For this she was
hanged. Her defence was (I have the trial in my pocket), ‘That she had
lived in credit, and wanted for nothing, till a press-gang came and
stole her husband from her; but, since then, she had no bed to lie on,
nothing to give her children to eat, and they were almost naked; and
perhaps she might have done something wrong, for she hardly knew what
she did.’ The parish officers testified the truth of this story; but it
seems there had been a good deal of shoplifting about Ludgate; an
example was thought necessary, and this woman was hanged for the comfort
and satisfaction of some shopkeepers in Ludgate Street. When brought to
receive sentence, she behaved in such a frantic manner, as proved her
mind to be in a distracted and desponding state; and the child was
sucking at her breast when she set out for Tyburn.

“Let us reflect a little on this woman’s fate. The poet says:—

              “‘An honest man’s the noblest work of God.’

He might have said, with equal truth, that

            “‘A beauteous woman’s the noblest work of God.’

“But for what cause was God’s creation robbed of this its noblest work?
It was for no injury, but for a mere attempt to clothe two naked
children by unlawful means. Compare this with what the State did, and
what the law did. The State bereaved the woman of her husband, and the
children of a father, who was all their support; the law deprived the
woman of her life, and the children of their remaining parent, exposing
them to every danger, insult, and merciless treatment that destitute and
helpless orphans suffer. Take all the circumstances together, I do not
believe that a fouler murder was ever committed against law than the
murder of this woman by law. Some who hear me are perhaps blaming the
judges, the jury, and the hangman; but neither judge, jury, nor hangman
are to blame; they are but ministerial agents. The true hangman is the
member of Parliament; he who frames the bloody laws is answerable for
all the blood that is shed under it. But there is a further
consideration still. Dying as these unhappy wretches often do, who knows
what their future lot may be? Perhaps my honourable friend who moves
this bill has not yet considered himself in the light of an executioner.
No man has more humanity, no man a stronger sense of religion than
himself: and I verily believe that at this moment he wishes as little
success to his hanging law as I do. His nature must recoil at making
himself the cause, not only of shedding the blood, but perhaps
destroying the soul of his fellow-creature.

“But the wretches who die are not the only sufferers; there are more and
greater objects still: I mean the surviving relations and friends. Who
knows how many innocent children we may be dooming to ignominy and
wretchedness? Who knows how many widows’ hearts we may break with grief,
how many grey hairs of parents we may bring with sorrow to the grave?

“The Mosaic law ordained that for a sheep or an ox four or five-fold
should be restored; and for robbing a house, double;—that is, one fold
for reparation, the rest for example; and the forfeiture was greater, as
the property was more exposed. If the thief came by night, it was lawful
to kill him; but if he came by day, he was only to make restitution; and
if he had nothing, he was to be sold for his theft. This is all that God
required in felonies; nor can I find in history any sample of such laws
as ours, except a code that was framed at Athens by Draco. He made every
offence capital, upon this modern way of reasoning:—‘That petty crimes
deserved death, and he knew nothing worse for the greatest.’ His laws,
it is said, were not written with ink, but with blood; but they were of
short duration, being all repealed by Solon, except one for murder.

“An attempt was made some years ago by my honourable friend, Sir Charles
Bunbury, to repeal some of the most absurd and cruel of our capital
laws. The bill passed this House, but was rejected by the Lords for this
reason: ‘It was an innovation,’ they said, ‘and subversion of law.’ The
very reverse is the truth. The hanging laws are themselves innovations.
No less than three-and-thirty of them passed during the last reign. I
believed I myself was the first person who checked the progress of them.
When the great Alfred came to the throne, he found the kingdom overrun
with robbers; but the silly expedient of hanging never came into his
head. He instituted a police, which was to make every township
answerable for the felonies committed in it. Thus property became the
guardian of property; and all robbery was so effectually stopped, that
(the historians tell us) in a very short time any man might travel
through the kingdom unarmed with his purse in his hand.

“Treason, murder, rape, and burning a dwelling-house were all the crimes
that were liable to be punished with death by our good old common law;
and such was the tenderness, such the reluctance to shed blood, that if
recompense could possibly be made, life was not to be touched. Treason
being against the King, the remission of that crime was in the Crown. In
case of murder itself, if compensation could be made, the next of kin
might discharge the prosecution, which, if once discharged, could never
be revived. If a ravisher could make the injured woman satisfaction, the
law had no power over him; she might marry the man under the gallows if
she pleased, and take him from the jaws of death to the lips of
matrimony. But so fatally are we deviated from the benignity of our
ancient laws, that there is now under sentence of death an unfortunate
clergyman,[13] who made satisfaction for the injury he attempted; the
satisfaction was accepted, and yet the acceptance of the satisfaction
and the prosecution bear the same date.

“There does not occur to my thoughts a proposition more abhorrent from
nature and from reason than that, in a matter of property, when
restitution is made, blood should still be required. But in regard to
our whole system of criminal law, and much more to our habits of
thinking and reasoning upon it, there is a sentence of the great Roman
orator which I wish those who hear me to remark, exhorting the Senate to
put a stop to executions. He says:—‘_Nolite, Quirites, hanc sævitium
diutius pati, quæ non modo tot cives atrocissimè sustulit, sed
humanitatem ipsam ademit consuetudine incommodorum._’

“Having said so much on the general principles of our criminal laws, I
have only a short word or two to add on the two propositions now before
us: one, as moved by the honourable gentleman (Mr. Combe) to hang
persons that wilfully set fire to ships; the other, moved as an
amendment by my honourable friend (Sir Charles Bunbury), is to send such
offenders to work seven years on the Thames.

“The question arises from the alarming events of the late fires at
Portsmouth and Bristol, for which the incendiary is put to death. But
will an act of Parliament prevent such men as Jack the Painter from
coming into the world, or control them when they are in it? You might as
well bring in a bill to prevent the appearance or regulate the motions
of a comet. John the Painter was so far from fearing death, that he
courted it; was so far from concealing his act, that he told full as
much as was true, to his own conviction. When once a villain turns
enthusiast, he is above all law; punishment is his reward, and death his
glory. But, though this law will be useless against villains, it is
dangerous and may be fatal to many an innocent person. There is not an
honest industrious carpenter or sailor who may not be endangered in the
course of his daily labour. They are constantly using fire and
combustible matter about shipping, tarring and pitching and caulking.
Accidents are continually happening; and who knows how many of those
accidents may be attributed to design? Indeed, the act says the firing
must be done _wilfully and maliciously_, but judges and juries do not
always distinguish rightly between the fact and the intention. It is the
province of a jury only to try the fact by the intention; but they are
too apt to judge of the intention by the fact. Justices of the peace,
however, are not famed for accurate and nice distinctions; and all the
horrors of an ignominious death would be too much to threaten every
honest shipwright with for what may happen in the necessary work of his
calling.

“But, as I think punishment necessary for so heinous an offence, and as
the end of all punishment is example, of the two modes of punishment I
shall prefer that which is most profitable in point of example.
Allowing, then, the punishment of death its utmost force, it is only
short and momentary; that of labour permanent; and so much example is
gained in him who is reserved for labour more than in him who is put to
death, as there are hours in the life of the one beyond the short moment
of the other’s death.”

Mr. Henry Dundas, M.P. for Edinburgh, Lord Advocate, here spoke against
the motion.

The bill was ordered to be reported, but it dropped.

The present law with regard to the burning in docks is this:—By the 24th
and 25th Vic., c. 97, sec. 4, whosoever shall unlawfully and maliciously
set fire to any station, engine-house, warehouse, or other building
belonging or appertaining to any railway, port, dock, or harbour, or to
any canal or other navigation, shall be guilty of felony, and liable to
penal servitude for life, or not less than three years, or to
imprisonment not exceeding two years, with or without hard labour and
solitary confinement; and if a male under sixteen years, with or without
whipping.

By the Act for the Government of the Navy, the 24th and 25th Vic., c.
115, article 30, every person subject to this act who shall unlawfully
set fire to any dockyard, victualling-yard, or steam factory yard,
arsenal, magazine, building, stores, or to any ship, vessel, hoy, barge,
boat, or other craft, or furniture thereunto belonging, not being the
property of an enemy, pirate, or rebel, shall suffer death, or such
other punishment as is hereinafter (in the act) mentioned.




                      THE TRIAL OF ADMIRAL KEPPEL.


The trial of Admiral Byng, and, in a less flagrant degree, that of Lord
George Sackville, had revealed the existence of a mode of prosecution
fraught with danger in the hands of a weak or malignant administration.
The means thus invented, were to throw upon the commander of an
expedition which, from some cause over which he had no control, and
possibly from the fault of Government itself, did not succeed, all the
blame and penalty of the failure. Unlike the noble and friendly
reception which Rome, in the days of its great and glorious contest with
Carthage, gave to the defeated consul Terentius Varro, because he had
not despaired of the Commonwealth;—a British general or admiral, however
distinguished on other occasions, was to be met, on his return from any
mischance, with opprobrium, criminal prosecution, and probably death.
Fortunately for the constitutional character of England, and the dignity
and independence of its military and naval service, this plan, when
attempted for the third time, utterly and signally failed. Admiral
Keppel was, indeed, not the man for such an attack, nor was the time of
it suitable either. His own credit as a commander and a man of sterling
worth, and his popularity, stood on the very firmest basis; and he
belonged to the influential Whig party, which was then rising fast into
power over a ministry as rapidly sinking under the disasters of the
American War. Poor Byng had but his merit to protect him, and he
perished; a better chance let Lord George Sackville off with his bare
life; but Keppel had the public around him, and had not only the people
in his favour, but also a giant band of personal friends. With such
protectors as Rockingham, Burke, Fox and Sheridan, persecution might do
its worst: he was invulnerable. The only thing to wonder at now is, the
madness of a Government which could participate in such a prosecution
against him. His trial is really a somewhat dull affair, as much from
the certainty of his acquittal as from the prolixity of the details; yet
it must be ever read with the deepest interest by all who advocate the
free action and the fair latitude that should be allowed to every man
who has to command the army or the navy of the British empire.

Before entering into the trial itself, it may be as well to give a short
biographical sketch of the previous career of Admiral Keppel.

The Rt. Hon. Augustus Keppel, Viscount Keppel, of Elvedon, in the county
of Suffolk, P.C., an admiral of Great Britain, and for some time First
Lord of the Admiralty, one of the pre-eminent seamen of our naval
history, was, like the unfortunate Admiral Byng, of aristocratic birth
and descent: he was the second son of Sir William Anne[14] Keppel, K.G.,
second Earl of Albemarle, by his wife Anne, daughter of Sir Charles
Lennox, K.G., first Duke of Richmond; and was the grandson of the famous
friend and companion-in-arms of William III., Arnold-Joost Van Keppel,
Lord of Voorst, whose aid to William in his acquisition of the throne at
the Revolution was rewarded with the earldom of Albemarle, and other
minor titles in the peerage of Great Britain. Augustus Keppel, the
future admiral, was born on the 2nd of April, 1725, and entered the
royal navy when thirteen years of age. He was a midshipman on board
Commodore Anson’s ship, the _Centurion_, in his voyage round the world,
in 1740. Of the dangers, distresses, and advantages of that celebrated
expedition, he therefore had his share: in particular, at the taking of
Paila, by Lieutenant (afterwards Admiral Sir Peircy) Brett. In 1741 he
had a very narrow escape; for, having on a jockey cap, one side of the
peak was shaved off close to his temple by a ball, which, however, did
him no other injury. Having been appointed, while still in his teens, in
the course of that voyage, a lieutenant, he, soon after his return, in
February, 1745, took post rank as captain of the _Maidstone_, 40, and
was very successful in capturing several French privateers; but on July
7, 1747, as he was giving chase to one, running too near shore on the
coast of France, near Nantes, his ship was unfortunately lost: himself
and crew were saved. Keppel’s picture, admirably painted by his friend,
Sir Joshua Reynolds, represents him as just escaped from that shipwreck.
Being soon exchanged, and returning to England in 1747, he was one of
the court-martial on the trial of Captain Fox, of the _Kent_, who, for
misbehaviour in the action under Admiral Hawke, was dismissed the
service. After the peace in August, 1749, Captain Keppel sailed with a
squadron, as commodore, to Algiers, to demand satisfaction or
restitution for the treasure piratically taken out of the _Prince
Frederick_ packet boat; and the matter was brought to a satisfactory and
amicable conclusion. But another act of piracy, in the succeeding year,
led him again to Algiers: he had a second audience of the Dey, and
exhorted him to consider, that a great king, like His Britannic Majesty,
was not accustomed to demand satisfaction in vain; to which the Dey made
a defiant and spirited reply; but eventually concluded the business in
friendly terms. In 1752, Commodore Keppel ably effected treaties with
the States of Tripoli and Tunis, and returned with credit from the
Mediterranean.

In 1755, he sailed as commodore in the _Centurion_, for Virginia, having
on board General Braddock, and under his convoy a fleet of transports,
with 2,000 troops, to drive the French from their encroachments on the
Ohio. The event of that expedition, as is well known, was unfortunate,
and would have been more so, but for the co-operation of Keppel. During
his absence he was elected to Parliament for the city of Chichester, in
the room of his brother, who had succeeded to the earldom of Albemarle
at his father’s death. In January, 1757, Keppel was the junior member of
the memorable court-martial, at Portsmouth, which tried Admiral Byng;
and (for the law gave him no alternative) he was obliged to concur in
the sentence which adjudged the admiral to be shot to death. He,
however, strenuously endeavoured to save him; and in his place in the
Commons, applied to the House on behalf of himself, and several other
members of the court-martial, praying the aid of Parliament to be
released from the oath of secrecy imposed on courts-martial, in order to
disclose the grounds on which that sentence was passed. The obvious
intent of this leave to disclose, was to allow the members of the
court-martial to openly comment on and protest against the monstrosity
of a law which compelled them to an award of death for an error in
judgment; and thus might they avert its effects. The Commons listened to
the prayer; the sentence was for the moment respited, and a bill passed
the House to release the members of the court-martial from the
obligation of the oath of secrecy. But the upper House was less
merciful; after examining the several members of the court-martial, the
Lords unanimously rejected the bill. To the third question, among those,
which the Lords put to the members of the court-martial on that
occasion, viz., the question,—“Whether you are desirous the present bill
should pass?”—Keppel, with Rear Admiral Norris, and Captain (afterwards
Sir John) Moore, answered in the affirmative; and to the fourth
question,—“Whether you are of opinion that you have any particulars to
reveal relative to the case of, and the sentence passed upon, Admiral
Byng, which you judge necessary for His Majesty’s information, and which
you think likely to incline His Majesty to mercy,”—Keppel replied, “I
think that I cannot answer that question without particularising the
reasons for my vote and opinion.” The House, by not passing the bill,
would not allow him to do so, and the shameful sentence was, despite of
his humane endeavour, carried into execution. Commodore Keppel, in 1758,
sailed from Spithead with a squadron and land forces, on an expedition
against the French settlements at Goree, on the coast of Africa, which
he reduced by a vigorous attack. In Hawke’s memorable naval victory over
the French armament under Conflans, Captain Keppel, in the _Torhay_, had
a brilliant share; he sunk the enemy’s ship, _Thésée_, of equal force to
his own vessel, at the second broadside. Again, while in command of the
_Valiant_, he victoriously served under Sir Edward Hawke in Quiberon
Bay. In October following, just before King George II.’s death, he was
appointed to command the fleet on an intended expedition, in which
General Kingsley was to command the troops; and His Majesty saw a
battalion of the foot guards march by Kensington Palace for that purpose
two days only before his death. The royal demise occasioned a suspension
of the expedition. In 1761, Commodore Keppel commanded the British fleet
at the celebrated reduction of Belleisle; and in 1762, he contributed
greatly to the reduction of the _Havannah_, being second in command
under Sir George Pocock, who said, “that Keppel executed the service
under his direction with the greatest spirit, activity, and diligence.”
In 1763, he was a Lord of the Admiralty; in 1765, he was appointed rear,
and in 1770 vice, admiral of the blue. Keppel had thus risen to the very
highest repute, and deservedly so. He was a man of cultivated mind and
generous soul, and was a thorough British sailor,—brave, prudent,
energetic, and indefatigable. His frankness, affability and good humour,
won him the unbounded love of the seamen, who gave him the affectionate
and familiar title of “Jack’s protector.” It was in the very midst of
this credit and popularity that the Government of the day—the disastrous
administration of Lord North—sought to re-enact against Keppel the
tragedy of Admiral Byng. The occasion was this:—

The court of France having, in February, 1778, acknowledged the
independence of America, proceeded to make an open avowal of the hostile
sentiments they had long entertained against England, by detaining all
British ships to be found in the French ports. Orders were, in
consequence, given by the British ministry to fit out a fleet of twenty
sail of the line with the utmost expedition; the command of which was
offered to Admiral Keppel. As the ministry had, in a great measure, lost
the confidence of the country, the eyes of the whole nation were turned
on Keppel, in whose appointment every one seemed to feel his own
security included. On this occasion, therefore, he had a great deal to
risk. His well-earned fame was now to be staked on the doubtful issue of
a single battle. The part he had taken in politics, and the close
friendship in which he lived with the leading members of the opposition,
augmented these difficulties, and even rendered the command that was
offered him extremely hazardous; for the ministers were his political
enemies, and political hostility at this time was carried to a very
great height. Any failure, therefore, whether proceeding from
unavoidable accident, or those misfortunes which the wisest and bravest
cannot repel, might attach censure on him, and be attended with
disagreeable, if not with dangerous, consequences. A due consideration
of all these incidental difficulties made him hesitate in accepting an
appointment so pregnant with danger from the hands of ministers; but in
consequence of a royal message delivered to him through the first lord
of the admiralty, he attended in the closet to receive the commands of
his sovereign; and in that and the subsequent royal audiences, he
delivered himself with that plainness, candour, and sincerity, which so
strongly marked his character. He particularly took the liberty of
observing, that he served in obedience to His Majesty’s commands, that
he was unacquainted with his ministers _as ministers_, and that he took
the command as it was, without making any difficulty, and without asking
a single favour, trusting only to His Majesty’s good intentions, and to
his generous support and protection. Keppel sailed from St. Helen’s on
the 13th of June, 1778, with a naval force and with unlimited
discretionary powers. But this force was of no more than twenty sail of
the line, many of which were in a bad state of equipment, and was
extremely inadequate for the important service which was entrusted to
him. On the one hand, it was well known that France had a large fleet at
Brest ready for sea; and, on the other, the great commercial fleets of
England were on their passage home from the East and West Indies.
Besides, the defence of these fleets, he had to protect the extensive
coast of Great Britain, together with those invaluable reservoirs of her
naval power, in which were equally included her present strength and her
future hope.

After much mature consideration, Keppel finally resolved to yield
everything to what he conceived to be a faithful discharge of the great
trust reposed in him. He wisely thought that the only fleet which was
then prepared to protect the commerce and the coast of his country,
ought not to be hazarded against vast odds, either upon personal or
professional punctilio. His conquest over the feelings of pride, was so
extremely difficult, that he afterwards declared, “he never in his life
felt so deep a melancholy, as on finding himself even for the moment
obliged to turn his back on France; and that his courage was never put
to such a trial as in that retreat; but that it was his firm persuasion
his country was saved by it.” The fleet returned to Portsmouth on the
27th of June, and being joined by such ships as were ready, the admiral
sailed again on the 9th of July, with twenty-four sail of the line, and
two days afterwards was joined by six more. In all, therefore, he had
now thirty sail of the line, four frigates, and two fire-ships. The day
before Keppel’s departure from Portsmouth, the great French fleet,
amounting to thirty-two sail of the line, and a vast number of frigates,
sailed from Brest, under the command of the Count d’Orvilliers.

The actual encounter with the French cannot be better described than in
the narrative of it given by Mr. C. D. Yonge, in his “History of the
British Navy:” he writes thus:—

“On the 9th of July, 1778, Keppel again put to sea with a splendid
fleet of thirty sail of the line and four frigates. With him were the
Vice-Admirals Sir Hugh Palliser, Bart. (a Lord of the Admiralty at the
time), and Sir Robert Harland, Bart.; and, among his captains were,
John Jervis, of the _Foudroyant_, 80 (afterwards Earl St. Vincent),
and in the _Robust_, 74, Captain Alexander Hood, afterwards Viscount
Bridport. The French fleet had quitted Brest the day before; the
commander-in-chief was the Comte d’Orvilliers; and among the
subordinate admirals was a prince of the royal blood, the Duc de
Chartres, subsequently known as that Duc d’Orleans who voted for the
murder of his relation and king, the hapless Louis XVI. The Duc de
Chartres was one of the vilest of cowards;[15] and being also given,
as such people sometimes are, to boasting of the exploits he intended
to perform, he had lately announced to Admiral Sir George Rodney, at
Paris, his appointment to a command in the fleet which was to combat
Keppel. Rodney predicted that the result of the meeting would be that
His Royal Highness would be conducted to England to learn English; but
he and his commander did their best to defeat the prophecy by avoiding
the battle for which he had professed so much eagerness.

Before he regained his old station off Brest, Keppel learnt that the
French were at sea; and accordingly he kept off the land to search for
them. The weather was so hazy that the two fleets nearly passed one
another unconsciously; but on the afternoon of the 23rd the fog suddenly
cleared off, and, to the surprise of both, they found themselves within
a few miles of each other, some leagues to the west of Ushant.
D’Orvilliers had probably been ignorant of Keppel’s return to England
for reinforcements. At all events, he believed him to be far weaker than
he really was, and at first showed every inclination to fight; but when,
on approaching nearer, he ascertained the real strength of the British
fleet, he showed that he had no idea of engaging on equal terms. He
resolved to decline the battle; and his possession of the weather-gauge
enabled him to do so. His conduct was a practical acknowledgment of the
inferiority of French to British sailors; for more equal fleets could
not be found. The French line-of-battle ships exceeded the English in
number by two; but the English ships were rather the larger; and the
English had two thousand two hundred and seventy-eight guns, to two
thousand two hundred and seventy-six, that composed the armament of the
French. In frigates, D’Orvilliers had a decided advantage; but however
useful they might be before or after the battle, in the actual conflict
they were not likely to have much weight. A fairer opportunity of
testing the naval merits of the two nations could not be imagined.
D’Orvilliers, however, kept away, and the next day was seen moving off
in full retreat. Keppel, signalling to his fleet to form in fine of
battle, and to chase, pursued with every sail his ships could carry;
and, as two of the Frenchmen had fallen to leeward, he endeavoured to
cut them off, in the hope of thus forcing his antagonist to a battle in
order to save them. D’Orvilliers thought more of saving himself, and
left the stragglers to their fate: their speed enabled them to escape,
but they were unable to rejoin their comrades. The 24th, the 25th, the
26th, passed without any variation of the circumstances or relative
positions of the two fleets. The French continued their retreat; we
continued our pursuit. In the afternoon of the 26th, Keppel, thinking he
was losing time by keeping his fleet in line of battle, hauled down that
signal which had been constantly flying from the time he first saw the
enemy, but still he kept up the signal to continue the chase.

“The French ships, however, as has been mentioned before, were generally
superior to ours in sailing qualities, so that the chase would in all
probability have been entirely fruitless, had not the wind suddenly
shifted on the morning of the 27th from south-west to west-south-west;
and, though this does not appear a very great change, it was sufficient
to prevent the French admiral from any longer having the entire option
of engaging in or avoiding a battle. It put in Keppel’s power to force
on at least a partial action, and he instantly availed himself of the
chance thus unexpectedly afforded him; but he found himself in some
difficulty. The eagerness with which he had hitherto pressed on the
chase had somewhat scattered his fleet. Harland was four miles off, on
the _Victory’s_ weather quarter; Palliser, in the _Formidable_, was
three miles or more to leeward, and as the way in which he handled his
ship seemed to show a disposition to increase that distance, Keppel,
desiring to unite his squadron to his own, signalled to Palliser to
chase to windward. Finding an action inevitable, D’Orvilliers, to
preserve his line of battle unbroken, caused his fleet to wear; but that
and some other evolutions threw them into great disorder, and brought
them nearer to the enemy whom their chief object was to avoid. These
manœuvres had occupied nearly four hours. At last, a little before noon,
Keppel made the signal to attack, and Sir Robert Harland, who commanded
the van division, led the fleet gallantly into battle, passing along the
French line, receiving their fire without returning it till he came up
to their leading ships. Keppel followed with the centre, in like manner
reserving his fire till he got alongside the French admiral himself,
whom he had marked for his own especial antagonist, and was soon joined
by Palliser and his squadron. For nearly two hours both fleets were
hotly engaged. The loss of life was lightest in ours; but, from the
French practice of aiming chiefly at the rigging, many of our ships were
far more crippled than any of theirs. Keppel’s own flag-ship, the
_Victory_, had received great damage; and five more of our ships were so
much disabled that the admiral was not altogether without apprehension
of losing some of them. Palliser’s ship, the _Formidable_, had suffered
as severely as any, and Sir Hugh had been the first to quit the line.
When the battle had lasted nearly two hours, with a view of enabling him
to renew the action, and also of protecting the crippled ships, Keppel
made the signal to wear. Harland and his division obeyed; but Palliser
took no notice of the signal, making no attempt to renew the action
himself, and, as was afterwards alleged, by his example preventing the
rest from going to the admiral’s support. Later in the afternoon, Keppel
sent a frigate to him with an express order to bear down; but the sun
went down, and it was not till daylight the next morning that the
_Formidable_ again took up the station assigned for her. But long before
daylight all hope of renewing the battle was past. The lights of the
enemy had been visible to our men all night; but, when day broke, it was
discovered that they proceeded from only three ships. D’Orvilliers had
stolen away with his main body, and, to prevent any suspicion of his
flight from occurring to the British admiral, he had left three of his
fastest sailers to keep up the same lights that were shown by the
flag-ship, with instructions to set all sail and rejoin him as soon as
daylight should reveal to the English the delusion that had been
practised. Once more Keppel chased for an hour or two, and then, finding
his efforts to overtake the enemy perfectly fruitless, he returned to
Plymouth to repair the damage he had received.

“No ship was taken on either side, the number of our killed and wounded
did not amount to above three-fourths of the loss sustained by the
French; but the question of who were the victors was most clearly
determined by a proof far more incontestable than any such minute
calculation. The flight of the French, for their course on the 28th can
be called by no other name, acknowledged their defeat in the most
forcible manner. But, after having made such efforts to fit out a
sufficient fleet, the British nation was not contented with a victory
which required arithmetic and logic to prove it to have been one.
Murmurs soon began to be heard, which presently assumed the definite
shape of complaints that Palliser, by his disobedience to his
commander’s signals, had prevented the renewal of the action, and by so
doing had enabled the French to escape. In his official despatch Keppel
was so far from having complained of Palliser’s behaviour, that he
expressly named him as, “by his spirited conduct, having deserved much
commendation.””

Before proceeding further, however, it should be here stated in fairness
to the Count D’Orvilliers, (whom Keppel himself, in his defence, does
not blame,) that Mr. Yonge seems to have taken rather a severe and
incorrect view of the Count’s conduct in evading an engagement:
D’Orvilliers, on the contrary, had great reasons for avoiding a battle,
and his retreat was really a success. Another writer, the author of an
excellent “British Naval Biography,” to whom I am much indebted in this
article, puts the point very clearly, thus:

“It must not be attributed to any want of spirit in D’Orvilliers that he
thus obstinately declined a battle. The motives of both commanders
exactly corresponded with the different lines of conduct they pursued.
Our East and West India convoys, of immense value, were on their return
home, and hourly expected. The position maintained by the French fleet
was extremely favourable for intercepting those convoys in the course
they were expected to hold; and from the situation of the hostile
fleets, and the state of the wind, they might have been captured in the
English admiral’s sight, without a possibility of his preventing it. On
the other hand, Keppel’s fleet effectually cut off that of his adversary
from the port of Brest. It was, therefore, no less the object of Keppel
to bring the enemy to an immediate action, than it was that of
D’Orvilliers to avoid it.”

It was so, in fact, understood by the British public, who felt, at once,
that the French had gained a great advantage, and that this action of
July, 1778, had not been of that bold and decisive character which the
country was used to expect from the navy.[16] The event gave rise to
much animadversion, and at last was discussed by the newspapers and
periodicals of the day with furious animosity. Party feeling embittered
the question; for though Admiral Keppel was employed on account of his
ability and experience, he was hostile to the then administration, so
that any attempt to disparage him was attributed to the malevolence of
the government.

In the House of Commons, of which both Admirals Keppel and Palliser were
members, a motion was made for an inquiry, whereupon Admiral Keppel
rose, and gave an account of his conduct from the time he assumed the
command of the fleet. He declared, “That if he was again to go over the
business of the 27th of July, he would conduct himself in the same
manner. He said, everything he could do against the enemy had been done;
but observed, at the same time, that the oldest and most experienced
officers would discover something in every engagement, with which they
were previously unacquainted; and he acknowledged that that day had
presented something new to him.” Sir Hugh Palliser defended himself with
much warmth, and accused Keppel of inconsistency in having officially
commended his conduct, and in now wishing to insinuate that he had
neglected to perform his duty. To this the admiral replied, “That the
official praise which he had bestowed on all the officers under his
command, to obviate discord, did not oblige him to authenticate
statements which would impeach himself; but now, when called upon to
speak out, he would inform the House, and the public, that the signal
for coming into the _Victory’s_ wake, was flying from three o’clock in
the afternoon till eight in the evening unobeyed; at the same time he
did not charge the vice-admiral with actual disobedience, because he was
fully persuaded of his personal bravery, and believed that if any
inquiry was considered necessary that he would be able to justify
himself.” This altercation led to a great deal of mutual recrimination
between the two admirals, until at length Sir Hugh Palliser, on the 9th
of December, delivered in an accusation to the Board of Admiralty, of
which he was himself one of the lord commissioners. This accusation
consisted of five separate charges against Keppel, for misconduct and
neglect of duty in the action of the 27th of July; and the Board
immediately ordered the admiral to be tried by a court-martial.

On the 7th of January, 1779, the signal was made for all the admirals
and captains of His Majesty’s fleet to come on board the _Britannia_ in
Portsmouth harbour.

Then the Judge-Advocate General, Sir Charles Gould, LL.D., read the
order sent by the Lords of the Admiralty to Sir Thomas Pye, admiral of
the white, to hold the court-martial, dated the 31st of December, 1778,
signed Sandwich, T. Buller, Lisburne: and for adjourning to the Governor
of Portsmouth’s house.

The court-martial consisted of the following members:—

President, Sir Thomas Pye, Kt., admiral of the white; Mathew Buckle,
vice-admiral of the red; John Montagu, vice-admiral of the red; Mariot
Arbuthnot, rear-admiral of the white; Robert Roddam, rear-admiral of the
white; Captains Mark Milbank (afterwards an admiral), Francis Samuel
Drake (afterwards an admiral and a baronet), Taylor Penny, John Moutray,
William Bennet, Adam Duncan (afterwards an admiral and a viscount, the
hero of Camperdown), Philip Boteler, and James Cranston.

Pursuant to the Admiralty order, the court adjourned to the house of the
Governor of Portsmouth, and there the trial was held.

Keppel appeared before the court attended by a galaxy of friends; among
them were some of the most illustrious personages in the kingdom, viz.,
the Dukes of Cumberland, Richmond, and Bolton; the Marquis of
Rockingham, the Earls of Effingham and Albemarle, Edmund Burke, Charles
James Fox, and Richard Brinsley Sheridan. Keppel’s counsel was
Erskine—the Hon. Thomas Erskine, the future Lord Chancellor, then in the
first year of his call to the bar, and already becoming famous as an
advocate.

The proceedings commenced by the President desiring the Judge-Advocate,
Sir Charles Gould, to read the charge, which was as follows:

“A charge of Misconduct and Neglect of Duty against the Honourable
Admiral Keppel, on the 27th and 28th of July, 1778, in divers instances
undermentioned.

“I. That on the morning of the 27th of July, 1778, having a fleet of
thirty ships of the line under his command, and being then in the
presence of a French fleet of the like number of ships of the line, the
said admiral did not make the necessary preparations for fight, did not
put his fleet into a line of battle, or into any order proper either for
receiving or attacking an enemy of such force; but, on the contrary,
although his fleet was already dispersed and in disorder, he, by making
the signal for several ships of the vice-admiral of the blue’s division
to chase to windward, increased the disorder of that part of the fleet,
and the ships were, in consequence, more scattered than they had been
before; and whilst in this disorder, he advanced to the enemy, and made
the signal for battle.

“That the above conduct was the more unaccountable, as the enemy’s fleet
was not then in disorder, nor beaten, nor flying, but formed in a
regular line of battle, on that tack which approached the British fleet
(all their notions plainly indicating a design to give battle), and they
edged down and attacked it whilst in disorder. By this unofficer-like
conduct a general engagement was not brought on, but the other
flag-officers and captains were left to engage without order or
regularity, from whence great confusion ensued; some of his ships were
prevented getting into action at all, others were not near enough to the
enemy, and some from the confusion, fired into others of the king’s
ships, and did them considerable damage; and the vice-admiral of the
blue was left alone to engage singly and unsupported. In these instances
the said Admiral Keppel negligently performed the duty imposed upon him.

“II. That after the van and centre divisions of the British fleet passed
the rear of the enemy, the admiral did not immediately tack and double
upon the enemy with those two divisions, and continue the battle; nor
did he collect them together at that time, and keep so near the enemy as
to be in readiness to renew the battle as soon as it might be proper;
but, on the contrary, he stood away beyond the enemy to a great
distance, before he wore to stand towards them again, leaving the
vice-admiral of the blue engaged with the enemy, and exposed to be cut
off.

“III. That after the vice-admiral of the blue had passed the last of the
enemy’s ships, and immediately wore and laid his own ship’s head towards
the enemy again, being then in their wake, and at a little distance
only, and expecting the admiral to advance with all the ships to renew
the fight, the admiral did not advance for that purpose, but shortened
sail, hauled down the signal for battle; nor did he at that time, or at
any other time, whilst standing towards the enemy, call the ships
together, in order to renew the attack, as he might have done;
particularly the vice-admiral of the red, and his division, which had
received the least damage, had been the longest out of action, were
ready and fit to renew it, were then to windward, and could have bore
down and fetched any part of the French fleet, if the signal for battle
had not been hauled down, or if the said Admiral Keppel had availed
himself of the signal appointed by the thirty-first article of the
fighting instructions, by which he might have ordered those to lead who
are to lead with the starboard tacks on board by a wind, which signal
was applicable to the occasion for renewing the engagement with
advantage after the French fleet had been beaten, their line broken, and
in disorder. In these instances he did not do the utmost in his power to
tack, sink, burn, or destroy the French fleet that had attacked the
British fleet.

“IV. That instead of advancing to renew the engagement, as in the
preceding articles is alleged, and as he might and ought to have done,
the admiral wore and made sail directly from the enemy, and thus he led
the whole British fleet away from them, which gave them the opportunity
to rally unmolested, and to form again into a line of battle, and to
stand after the British fleet: this was disgraceful to the British flag,
for it had the appearance of a flight, and gave the French admiral a
pretence to claim the victory, and to publish to the world that the
British fleet ran away, and that he pursued it with the fleet of France,
and offered it battle.

“V. That on the morning of the 28th of July, 1778, when it was perceived
that only three of the French fleet remained near the British, in the
situation the whole had been in the night before, and that the rest were
to leeward, at a greater distance, not in a line of battle, but in a
heap, the admiral did not cause the fleet to pursue the flying enemy,
nor even to chase the three ships that fled after the rest; but, on the
contrary, he led the British fleet another way, directly from the enemy.

“By these instances of misconduct and neglect a glorious opportunity was
lost of doing a most essential service to the State, and the honour of
the British navy was tarnished.”

The trial lasted thirty-two days, and the evidence was very extensive
and very minute; but, after all was heard, it left the affair much as
stated by Mr. Yonge in his account of it. The following incidents from
the testimony adduced may be read with interest.

_Captain Marshall_, of the _Arethusa_ frigate, the first witness called,
stated in answer to the question, whether Admiral Keppel conducted
himself unbecoming a flag-officer; “No, as God is my judge!”

_Captain Sir William Chaloner Burnaby_, Bart., of the _Milford_, in his
evidence, informed the court, that when he first perceived the French
fleet, the afternoon of the 23rd, they were to eastward of our fleet,
nearly a-head, or rather leeward, standing towards us, and appearing to
be in great disorder; that, the _Milford_ having received orders from
the admiral to reconnoitre the enemy, he made towards them. That at half
past four he tacked and stood towards the _Victory_, the French fleet
nearly then beginning to form a line a-head, seeming to direct their
course to leeward of our fleet, and very little from the wind. About
half past eight o’clock the British admiral made signal for the fleet to
bring to, and, to the best of his recollection, it continued in that
situation all night. Upon further interrogations it appeared from Sir
William that the French fleet were all that day forming in line of
battle; that on the 25th and 26th the weather was squally, with fresh
gales, that occasioned such a northwest swell as is usual with such
winds; that they kept the weather-gauge of us all the time, generally
observing their line of battle, and rather gained upon our fleet,
sometimes carrying a pressing sail, at other times under an easy sail,
for the better perfecting their line of battle; and that during all that
time, had they been ever so much disposed to attack our fleet, they
could not have done it without disadvantage, as they could not, without
risk, fight their lee lower-deck guns, whilst we could fight our weather
lower-deck guns. Sir William was cross-examined by Admiral Keppel as to
the vice-admiral’s situation and conduct after the engagement; when it
appeared, that from the natural superiority of the _Victory_ over the
_Formidable_ in sailing, and the damage the latter had sustained, Sir
Hugh Palliser could not accompany the admiral; but that he did not see
him make any signal of his disability.

In the course of the admiral’s questions to Sir William he asked, did I
not pursue with a press of sail, conformable to my worst sailing ships,
to close and get up, until the moment I brought them to battle, except
the two times after the 24th that I made the signal for the line? Sir
Hugh objected to this as a leading question.

_Admiral Keppel_: “I desire I may not be interrupted by the accuser. I
am trying for my life, and for my honour, which is dearer, and I hope
for the protection of the court.” Soon after he said, “I would have
fired at the French if they had not fired at me.” Sir William Burnaby
concluded by saying, Admiral Keppel always pressed sail, and gave every
proof of a great desire of bringing the French to battle.

_Captain Digby_, of the _Ramillies_, was called: Sir Hugh Palliser began
to interrogate him with regard to the business of the 23rd, when Admiral
Keppel begged the Court to take notice, that, for the purpose of
shortening, if possible, the length to which he saw the trial would
necessarily extend, if they still went over the same ground, and
questions were repeatedly asked which he had admitted, he again told
them that he admitted that the French fleet put themselves into order of
battle when we discovered them. When Captain Digby mentioned, that from
squally weather there was a swelling sea, and was asked whether the
ships could then fight their lower-deck guns; he said, he could not have
fought all his.

_Admiral Montagu_: In both articles of the charge, Admiral Keppel is
charged with running away from the French fleet. Did you that day see
him run away from them, instead of advancing to renew the engagement, as
he might and ought to have done, which are the words expressed in the
charge?

The charge was then read, and an objection started by Sir Hugh Palliser
to the question, as contrary to law. Upon which several members of the
court-martial said, “We do not care sixpence in this case for the law;
we are come here to do justice, and hope, in God’s name, it will be
done.”

_Admiral Montagu_: If Admiral Keppel ran away, Captain Digby did so too;
and I suppose every part of the fleet followed their leader. Did you
that day run away from the French fleet?—No.

_Captain Hood_, of the _Robuste_, was called upon and examined. _Admiral
Arbuthnot_ asked him if the admiral had thought fit to have renewed the
attack when the French line was broke, could you have obeyed his signal
and gone down to the enemy in the condition you were in?—I could not.

_Admiral Montagu_: From their relative situation, as you have described
them, do you think the British admiral was running away from the
enemy?—At that time there was no appearance of a flight.

Did the admiral run away any other time?—There was nothing in his
conduct at any time which indicated, in the most distant manner, a
flight. In the morning he pursued them.

_Captain Allen_, of the _Egmont_, was called, and he was finally put
these questions. Sir, was it not more proper and prudent in the admiral
to lay to, and repair his disabled ships before he renewed the attack,
than to have returned to the engagement immediately?—Assuredly it was.

Then, sir, upon the whole did it appear to you, as an old experienced
officer, that Admiral Keppel did by his conduct, either on the 27th or
28th of July, tarnish the honour of the British navy?—No; and I should
not take upon me to say thus much, if I had not been forty years at sea,
and three-and-thirty years an officer. I look upon it, the admiral did
much honour to, instead of tarnishing, the British navy.

One circumstance showed very strongly the animus of Sir Hugh Palliser.
It was discovered in the course of the trial, that some leaves had been
taken out of the log book of the _Formidable_, containing the work of
the 26th, 27th and 28th July, and the master of the _Formidable_ was
required to attend to explain.

Now such a witness should not be interfered with before coming to court
by the prosecutor; yet that Sir Hugh Palliser did so interfere, appears
by the following incident. _Vice-admiral Palliser_ to the President:
Sir, the cutting leaves out of the _Formidable’s_ log-book, is a fact of
which I was totally ignorant, until it was perceived by a member of this
court; nor could any person be more astonished at it than myself. It is
my most anxious wish to have this matter fully investigated; and, for
that purpose, I have ordered the master of the _Formidable_, and the
mate who made the entries, to attend here this morning; and, that they
may be more strictly interrogated upon the matter, I desire that they
may be examined by the court and Admiral Keppel, without any previous
question from me.

_Mr. Forfar_, the master of the _Formidable_, being then called and
sworn, and his former oath read to him, respecting the originality of
the log-book, Admiral Keppel observed, that his reason for wishing to
trouble the court the preceding day, when he requested the master of the
_Formidable_ might be immediately interrogated respecting that
alteration, was to prevent any intermediate communication between him
and others upon that subject; he, therefore, desired to know who was the
person who first acquainted him, that the court had discovered any
extraordinary circumstance relating to the book; and whether, and with
whom, he had any conversation on that subject before the rising of the
court the evening before? The witness answered, that he had heard a
woman mention it to another in a shop where he had been; that it was
between one and two o’clock, at that time, and he immediately came to
the witnesses’ room that he might be ready to attend the court if he
should be called; that in his way, he met the master of the
_Foudroyant_, who told him he thought he would be wanted on that
business; that he spoke to no other person till he came into witnesses’
room, where he saw Captain Walsingham, who told him he supposed he was
come about the log-book; that he had no other conversation about it,
till after the court broke up, when he conversed upon it with Captain
Bazeley, at his lodgings, next door to the vice-admiral’s; shortly after
which he went to Sir Hugh Palliser’s house.

Sir Hugh Palliser here observed, that in order to save the court
trouble, he readily admitted that he had not only conversed with the
witness before on the subject, but had interrogated him very strictly
indeed on the subject. The master of the _Formidable_ then made a very
lame explanation as to the cutting out of the leaves in question.

The evidence being concluded for the prosecution, Admiral Keppel
addressed the court in his defence, in a speech, in the composition of
which he is said to have been assisted by his illustrious friend, Edmund
Burke. Keppel spoke as follows:—

SIR,—After forty years spent in the service of my country, little did I
think of being brought to a court-martial to answer charges of
misconduct, negligence in the performance of duty, and tarnishing the
honour of the British navy. These charges, sir, have been advanced by my
accuser. Whether he has succeeded in proving them or not, the court will
determine. Before he brought me to trial, it would have been candid in
him to have given vent to his thoughts, and not, by a deceptions show of
kindness, to lead me into the mistake of supposing a friend in the man
who was my enemy in his heart, and was shortly to be my accuser. Yet,
sir, after all my misconduct; after so much negligence in the
performance of my duty; and after tarnishing so deeply the honour of the
British navy, my accuser made no scruple to sail a second time with that
man who had been the betrayer of his country. Nay, during the time that
we were on shore, he corresponded on terms of friendship, and even in
his letters he approved of what had been done, of the part which he now
condemns, and of the very negligent misconduct which has since been so
offensive in his eyes!

Such behaviour, sir, on the part of my accuser, gave me little reason to
apprehend an accusation from him. Nor had I any reason to suppose that
the State would criminate me. When I returned, His Majesty received me
with the greatest applause. Even the first lord of the Admiralty gave
his flattering testimony to the rectitude of my conduct, and seemed with
vast sincerity to applaud my zeal for the service. Yet, in the moment of
approbation, it seems as if a scheme was concerting against my life;
for, without any previous notice, five articles of a charge were
exhibited against me by Sir Hugh Palliser, who, most unfortunately for
his cause, lay himself under an imputation of disobedience of orders at
the very time when he accused me of negligence. This, to be sure, was a
very ingenious mode of getting the start of me. An accusation exhibited
against a commander-in-chief might draw off the public opinion from
neglect of duty in an inferior officer. I could almost wish, in pity to
my accuser, that appearances were not so strong against him. Before the
trial commenced, I actually thought that my accuser might have some
tolerable reason for his conduct. But from the evidence even as adduced
to account for the behaviour of the honourable gentleman in the
afternoon of the 27th of July; from that evidence, I say, sir, I find
that I was mistaken. The trial has left my accuser without excuse, and
he now cuts that sort of figure which I trust in God all accusers of
innocence will exhibit!

I have observed, sir, that the opinions of officers of different ranks
have been taken. I trust that the court will indulge me in the liberty
in the evidence for my defence. Some have refused to give their
opinions. I thought it strange, as plain speaking and a full declaration
are the best of evidences in a good cause.

I would wish, sir, the court to consider that in all great naval, as
well as military operations, unless the design be fully known, the
several manœuvres may have a strange appearance. Masters have been
called to give their opinions on the higher departments of command.
Higher authorities should have been taken. Such authorities are not
scarce; for I am happy to say, there never was a country served by naval
officers of more bravery, skill and gallantry, than England can boast at
present. As to this court, I entreat you, gentlemen, who compose it, to
recollect that you sit here as a court of honour, as well as a court of
justice, and I now stand before you not merely to save my life, but for
a purpose of infinitely greater moment—to clear my fame.

My accuser, sir, has been not a little mistaken in his notions of the
duty of a commander-in-chief, or he never would have accused me in the
manner he has done. During action, subordinate officers either are, or
they ought to be, too attentive to their own duty to observe the
manœuvres of others. In general engagements, it is scarcely possible for
the same objects to appear in the same point of view to the commanders
of two different ships. The point of sight may be different. Clouds of
smoke may obstruct the view. Hence will arise the difference in the
opinions of officers as to this or that manœuvre, without any
intentional partiality. Whether I have conceived objects in exact
correspondence with the truth—whether I have viewed them unskilfully (or
as my accuser has been pleased to term it, unofficer-like), these are
matters which remain to be determined. I can only say, that what Sir
Hugh Palliser has imputed to me as negligence, was the effect of
deliberation and choice. I will add, that I was not confined in my
powers when I sailed; I had ample discretion to act as I thought proper
for the defence of the kingdom. I manœuvred; I fought; I returned; I did
my best. If my abilities were not equal to the task, I have the
consolation to think that I did not solicit, nor did I bargain for the
command. More than two years ago, in the month of November, 1776, I
received a letter from the first lord of the marine department, wherein
he observed, that, owing to motions of foreign courts, it might be
necessary to prepare a fleet of observation. My reply to this letter
was, That I was ready to receive any command from his majesty, and I
begged to have the honour of an audience. This request was complied
with. I was closetted, and I told the king I was willing to serve him as
long as my health would permit. I heard no more till the month of March
1778, at which time I had two or three audiences, and I told his majesty
that I had no acquaintance with his ministers, but I trusted to his
protection and zeal for the public good. Here were no sinister views; no
paltry gratifications; I had nothing—I felt nothing, but an earnest
desire to serve my country. I even accepted the command in chief with
reluctance. I was apprehensive of not being supported at home. I foresaw
that the higher the command, the more liable was I to be ruined in my
reputation. Even my misfortunes, if I had any, might be construed into
crimes. During forty years’ service, I have not received any particular
mark of favour from the crown. I have only been honoured with the
confidence of my sovereign in times of public danger. Neither my
deficiencies, nor my misconduct, were ever before brought forward to the
public. And it is now somewhat strange, that so well acquainted as my
accuser must have been with my deficient abilities, it is strange, I
say, sir, that he should be the very person who brought me the message
to take the command upon me! Nay, further, sir, he brought that message
with great seeming pleasure! There was, or there was not, reason at that
time to doubt my ability. If there was reason, how could my accuser wish
me to accept a command for which I was disqualified? If there was not
any reason to doubt my professional abilities sixteen months ago, I have
given no reason why they should since be called in question. When I
returned from the expedition, I did not complain of anything. I
endeavoured to stop all murmurings. I even trusted the first lord of the
Admiralty in the same manner as I would have done my most intimate
friend. This might be imprudent—it might be dangerous; but, sir, I am by
nature open and unguarded, and little did I expect that traps would be
artfully laid to endeavour to catch me on the authority of my own words.

It was in the month of March, 1778, that I was told a fleet lay ready
for me to command. When I reached Portsmouth, I saw six ships ready,
and, on viewing even those with a seaman’s eye, I was not by any means
pleased with their condition. Before I quitted Portsmouth, four or five
more were ready, and I will do the persons in office the justice to say,
that from that time they used their utmost diligence in getting the
fleet ready for service.

On the 20th of June, I sailed with twenty ships of the line, and very
fortunately I fell in with the _Belle Poule_, and other French frigates,
and the letters and papers found on board them were of material service
to the state. Captain Marshall distinguished himself with the greatest
honour. I confess that when I fell in with those frigates, I was at a
loss how to act. On the one hand, I conceived the incident to be
favourable to my country; and, on the other, I was fearful that a war
with France and all its consequences might be laid to my charge. For
anything I can tell, this may be the case. It may be treasured up to
furnish another matter for future accusation. To this hour I have
neither received official approbation, nor censure for my conduct. With
twenty ships of the line I sailed. Thirty-two ships of the line lay in
Brest water, besides an incredible number of frigates. Was I to seek an
engagement with a superior force? I never did, nor shall I ever fear to
engage a force superior to the one I then commanded, or that I may
hereafter command. But I well knew what men and ships can do; and, if
the fleet I commanded had been destroyed, we must have left the French
masters of the sea. To refit a fleet requires time. From the situation
of affairs, naval stores are not very soon supplied. Never did I
experience so deep a melancholy as when I found myself forced to turn my
back on France! I quitted my station, and my courage was never put to so
severe a trial.

I was permitted to sail a second time, without receiving official praise
or blame for the part I had acted. These were discouraging
circumstances. But they did not disturb my temper. My principal object
was to get ready for sea with all possible haste. I was surprised on my
return to be threatened with the fate of Admiral Byng, and I was still
more surprised to be charged with cowardice.

With thirty ships of the line I sailed early in July. The French admiral
sailed from Brest with thirty-two ships. I believe that, when the fleets
came in sight of each other, the French were not a little surprised to
see me so strong. I desire not to throw the slightest imputation on the
courage of the French admiral. I believe him to be a brave man, and one
who had some particular reasons for the line of conduct he pursued. I
was determined, if possible, to bring the French to battle, as I had
every reason to think that their having avoided an engagement, when it
was for four days in their power to attack me, was owing to their
expecting some capital reinforcements. I therefore thought that the
sooner I could engage them the better, especially as I knew that the
principal fleets of our trade were daily expected in the channel, and if
the French fleets had been permitted to disperse without an action, our
East and West India fleets might have been intercepted, the convoys
might have been cut off, and the stake of England might have been lost.
I beg leave to mention, that in the reign of King William, the gallant
Admiral Russell was two months in sight of a French fleet, and he could
not possibly bring them to action. My being in sight of the French fleet
four days before the engagement will not, therefore, appear quite so
extraordinary as it has been represented. Had it not been for the
favourable change of wind on the morning of the 27th of July, I could
not have brought the French to action when I did.

I am exceedingly sorry, sir, that the Admiralty have refused me the
liberty of producing my instructions. In all former courts’-martial the
instructions and orders have been sent with the charge to the members of
the Court. As it has been denied in this instance, I must, and do,
submit.

Although on the 27th of July I fought and beat my enemy, and compelled
him to take shelter by returning into port, yet the effect did by no
means answer my wishes. I rushed on to re-attack my enemy. Why I did not
accomplish my design will be seen in the evidence I shall produce. I
might, it is true, have chased the three ships which were visible on the
morning of the 28th of July, but with very little prospect of success.
I, therefore, chose to return to Plymouth with my shattered fleet, to
get ready for sea again, not, however, forgetting to leave two ships of
the line to cruize for the protection of our trading fleets, which,
thank God! all arrived safe.

On my return, sir, I most cautiously avoided to utter a syllable of
complaint, because it might have suspended our naval operations, which
at that time would have been highly dangerous. I could not think of
attending to a court-martial when greater objects were in view.

With respect to the second edition of the _Formidable’s_ log-book, it
appears to have been fabricated rather for the purpose of exculpating
the prosecutor than to criminate me. I shall, therefore, pass it over,
and permit the gentleman to make the most of such an exculpation. I
cannot, however, be so civil to the alterations and additions in the
log-book of the _Robust_. Captain Hood’s conduct must have struck the
court, as I believe it did every person, except the prosecutor, with
astonishment.

A great stress, sir, has been laid on my letter to the Admiralty. There
is a passage in it where I seemed to approve the conduct of every
officer in the fleet. The court will observe, that I was not in my
letter to inform all Europe, that a vice-admiral, under my command, had
been guilty of neglect, whilst there remained a possibility of excuse
for his conduct. As to courts-martial, one very bad consequence will, I
am sure, result from this trial; it will terrify a commander-in-chief
from accepting a commission, if he should be liable to be brought to
trial by every subordinate officer.

“As I have touched on my letters, I will just observe, sir, that the
most disagreeable task that I ever experienced was that of writing my
letter of the 30th of July. However, if I wrote ill, I am confident that
I fought well, and the destruction of the trade of France was evident
from the number of rich captures which were made, a number far exceeding
anything ever known in so short a period! His Majesty noticed this in a
speech from the throne....”

The admiral then proceeded to reply seriatim and in detail to the five
articles against him, and having concluded, called his witnesses, who
established his complete exculpation, if, indeed, there could have been
anything to explain or clear in his conduct. Among these witnesses was
the Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Harland; and Captain Jervis, the future hero
of St. Vincent, who emphatically said, “I cannot boast of a long
acquaintance with Admiral Keppel; I never had the honour to serve under
him before, but am happy in this opportunity to declare to the court,
and to all the world, that, during the whole time the English navy was
in sight of the French fleet, he displayed the greatest naval skill and
ability, and the boldest enterprise, on the 27th of July, which, with
the promptitude and obedience of the Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Harland,
will be subjects for my admiration and imitation as long as I live.”

The proceedings of the court-martial concluded on February 11, 1779, by
an honourable acquittal of Admiral Keppel; the court unanimously
deciding that the charge exhibited against him was malicious and
ill-founded; it having appeared that the admiral, so far from having, by
misconduct and neglect of duty on the days alluded to, lost an
opportunity of rendering an essential service to the State, and thereby
tarnishing the honour of the British navy, behaved himself as became a
judicious, brave, and experienced officer.

The court did, therefore, unanimously and honourably acquit Admiral
Augustus Keppel of the several articles contained in the charge
exhibited against him, and he was fully and honourably acquitted
accordingly.

The President, on the acquittal being announced, addressed himself to
the admiral in the following words, delivering to him his sword at the
same time:—

“ADMIRAL KEPPEL, it is no small pleasure to me to receive the commands
of the court I have the honour to preside at, that in delivering to you
your sword I am to congratulate you on its being restored to you with so
much honour, hoping ere long you will be called forth by your sovereign
to show it once more in the defence of your country.”

The concourse of people that surrounded the court was immense. As soon
as the sentence was pronounced an exclamation of joy burst forth in
repeated peals, which was immediately communicated to the crowd without,
and soon became general throughout the town and the whole nation by
general illuminations.

In the “Gentleman’s Magazine” for Feb. 1779, the following paragraphs
show the great sensation created by the acquittal:—

“Thursday, Feb. 11.—About eleven o’clock at night, the news having
arrived of the acquittal of Admiral Keppel, a riotous mob, to testify
their zeal on the occasion, suddenly assembled, and did a great deal of
mischief, by breaking the windows of those houses that were not
illuminated, and entering the houses, and destroying the furniture of
some gentlemen, against whom the popular cry had been raised,
particularly of Lord North, Lord Germaine, Lord Mulgrave, Sir Hugh
Palliser, Captain Hood, and some others; but on the appearance of the
military, and some of the leaders being apprehended, they dispersed,
without attempting to rescue those who were in custody.

“Friday, Feb. 12.—At a Court of Common Council held at Guildhall, a
motion was made, and unanimously agreed to, That the thanks of the court
be given to the Hon. Augustus Keppel for his spirited conduct during the
action of the 27th of July last, for the protection given by him to
trade, &c., &c.

“Another motion was at the same time made, That the freedom of the city
be presented to Admiral Keppel, in a box made of heart of oak, richly
ornamented, and embellished with gold, &c., which motion was likewise
agreed to.

“Sunday, Feb. 14.—Admiral Keppel’s flag was hoisted on board the
_Victory_ at Spithead.

“Thursday, Feb. 18.—Admiral Keppel received the thanks of the House of
Commons. He also received the thanks of the House of Lords then sitting.

“Friday, Feb. 19.—Admiral Keppel attended the levee at St. James’s, and
was graciously received by His Majesty.

“Saturday, Feb. 20.—Admiral Keppel dined, by invitation, at the London
Tavern. His carriage was drawn by sailors through the city, and the
illuminations were more general in the evening than ever was known.”

The trial of Sir Hugh Palliser by court-martial seemed a necessary
consequence of the acquittal of Keppel. Palliser was accordingly tried
at a court-martial held on board the _Sandwich_ at Portsmouth. The
investigation lasted from April 12 to May 5, 1779, and the result was,
that though the court blamed Palliser for not having made known to his
commander how the _Formidable_ had been so crippled by an explosion,
that Admiral Keppel’s signals could not be attended to, yet the court
found that Sir Hugh’s conduct had been in many respects highly exemplary
and meritorious, and in general terms acquitted him. Despite of this,
the popular feeling ran strongly against Sir Hugh Palliser, and though a
brave and experienced officer, he never found favour with the public
again. He resigned, in 1779, his seat in the House of Commons, his
appointment as a lord of the Admiralty, and all his other official
employments. He, however, eventually became Governor of Greenwich
Hospital, and an admiral of the White. He died at Greenwich the 19th
March, 1796.

Admiral Keppel remained a popular man to the day of his death. The
admiral, when the party of the Marquess of Rockingham came into power,
in 1782, was made first lord of the Admiralty, and a privy councillor;
and, on the 22nd April, 1782, he was created Viscount Keppel of Elvedon,
in the county of Suffolk. He continued, with a slight intermission,
first lord of the Admiralty till 1784, when, soon after, he retired into
private life, where his constant amiability and unaffected cheerfulness
won him to the last the affection and cordial attentions of all around
him. He died of gout in the stomach on the 2nd October, 1786, at his
seat, Elden Hall, Suffolk, and, as he was never married, his peerage
expired with him; but the noble family to which he belonged still
flourishes high in rank and well-merited reputation. The admiral’s grand
nephew is now head and representative of the house, as sixth Earl of
Albemarle.

Edmund Burke, in his famous “Letter to a Noble Lord,” thus refers to
Admiral Keppel:

“No man lives too long, who lives to do with spirit, and suffer with
resignation, what Providence pleases to command, or inflict; but,
indeed, they are sharp incommodities which beset old age. It was but the
other day that, on putting in order some things which had been brought
here on my taking leave of London for ever, I looked over a number of
fine portraits, most of them of persons now dead, but whose society, in
my better days, made this (Beaconsfield) a proud and happy place. Among
these was the picture of Lord Keppel. It was painted by an artist worthy
of the subject (Sir Joshua Reynolds), the excellent friend of that
excellent man from their earliest youth, and a common friend of us both,
with whom we lived for many years without a moment of coldness, of
peevishness, of jealousy, or of jar, to the day of our final separation.
I ever looked on Lord Keppel as one of the greatest and best men of his
age; and I loved and cultivated him accordingly. He was much in my
heart, and I believe I was in his, to the very last beat. It was at his
trial at Portsmouth that he gave me this picture. With what zeal and
anxious affection I attended him through that his agony of glory, what
part my son took in the early flush and enthusiasm of his virtue, and
the pious passion with which he attached himself to all my connections;
with what prodigality we both squandered ourselves in courting almost
every sort of enmity for his sake, I believe he felt, just as I should
have felt such friendship on such an occasion. I partook, indeed, of
this honour, with several of the first, and best, and ablest in the
kingdom, but I was behindhand with none of them; and I am sure that if,
to the eternal disgrace of this nation, and to the total annihilation of
every trace of honour and virtue in it, things had taken a different
turn from what they did, I should have attended him to the quarterdeck
with no less good will and more pride, though with far other feelings,
than I partook in the general flow of national joy that attended the
justice that was done to his virtue. Pardon, my lord, the feeble
garrulity of age, which loves to diffuse itself in discourse of the
departed great. At my years we live in retrospect alone; and, wholly
unfitted for the society of vigorous life, we enjoy, the best balm to
all wounds, the consolation of friendship, in those only whom we have
lost for ever.”




                      THE MUTINY OF THE “BOUNTY.”


The outrageous act of insubordination on open sea, known as “The Mutiny
of the _Bounty_,” has proved, from the lasting interest it has excited,
and from its extraordinary results, one of the most wonderful events in
the annals of our navy. The memory of the foul crime has flourished, not
only in tales, dramas, and poetry, but in the very good that Providence
worked out of it. Pitcairn’s Island, where the mutineers and their
descendants settled, and Norfolk Island, whither the latter have
removed, are models of civilisation to the whole Polynesian world. In
poetry, the Mutiny has been done the highest, and, indeed, the unfairest
honour. Lord Byron’s magnificent production, “The Island; or, Christian
and his Comrades,” has converted the guilty mutineers into a band of
heroes; and his lordship, with a morbid taste for criminals of the
corsair stamp, has thrown a glow of chivalry over deeds which deserved
only the whipping post and the gallows. He, too, passes over, in a very
few impressive lines, the great and real heroism of the whole affair—a
heroism that deserved an Odyssey for its record. I allude to the conduct
of Captain, afterwards Admiral, William Bligh, a seaman, illustrious in
consequence, who, when his mutinous crew cast him and nineteen others
adrift in an open boat, guided and cheered his associates with undaunted
energy and perseverance, through a sail of more than 3,500 miles, until
they arrived safe at the Dutch settlement, in the island of Timor,
without losing more than one man. Lord Byron wrongfully compares with
the Spartans of Thermopylæ, Christian and his comrades, who, with one or
two exceptions, as they afterwards turned out, were murderous vagabonds
merely. A far juster comparison would have been that of William Bligh
and his companions in the open boat, with the unconquered spirits that
defended the pass of Thermopylæ. The British navy ought well to be proud
of the memory of Captain Bligh. Before proceeding to a summary of the
mutiny, a word or two may be said biographically of the principal actors
in the terrible transaction.

To begin with Bligh, a giant spirit in difficulty. He was a scion of the
family to which belong the Earls of Darnley, and he was the grandson of
Richard Bligh, Esq., of Tinten, near Bodmin, in Cornwall, and the son of
William Bligh, Esq., by Jane, his wife. He was born at Bodmin in 1753,
and received a home education. He went very early in life into the royal
navy, and was soon remarked for his aptness and his steady and sensible
performance of his duty. After passing his examination as lieutenant,
he, on the understanding that his promotion should go on, went as
sailing master, under Captain Cook, and was for four years with that
great navigator, in the _Resolution_. In Cook’s history of his
researches in the Southern Pacific, Bligh’s name frequently occurs.
Bligh was a lieutenant when he was appointed to command the _Bounty_. He
was a strict disciplinarian, but by no means a harsh or unamiable man.
He would have his orders obeyed, but he, at the same time, was always
studious of the comfort and happiness of the men under him. By his own
family and by all his associates in his profession he was thoroughly
beloved and respected.

Fletcher Christian, master’s mate on board the _Bounty_, and the chief
and worst mutineer, was a man of good family and education, and had
actually owed his advancement in the service to Captain Bligh. He was
the brother of Professor Christian, Chief Justice of Ely, the well-known
editor of “Blackstone’s Commentaries.”

Peter Heywood, a midshipman on board the _Bounty_, who joined the
mutiny, and who, after being convicted and pardoned for it, redeemed his
character and became a captain in the royal navy, was of a very
respectable family, and was grandson of Mr. Heywood, Chief Justice of
the Isle of Man. Peter Heywood was, no doubt, the Torquil of Lord
Byron’s poem.

Edward Young, a midshipman, and another mutineer, was nephew of Admiral
Sir George Young, Bart.

Alexander Smith, _alias_ John Adams, the most remarkable of the
mutineers, and afterwards the famous patriarch of Pitcairn’s Island, was
a sailor of the ordinary class.

David Nelson, the botanist, a credit to his great name, who sailed with
and shared the perils of Bligh, was a man of much scientific knowledge.
He had been in Captain Cook’s last voyage, and was appointed to the
_Bounty_ on the recommendation of Sir Joseph Banks.

The circumstances of the mutiny were as follow:—

His Majesty’s ship _Bounty_, an armed vessel, was fitted out under the
express desire of King George III., and sailed from England in the
winter of 1787, commanded by Lieutenant Bligh, on a voyage to the
Society Islands to gather bread-fruit trees, and to bring them for
transplantation to the British West India settlements, in which climate,
it was the opinion of Sir Joseph Banks, they might be successfully
cultivated, and prove a succeedaneum for other provisions in times of
scarcity.

The _Bounty_ actually departed on its voyage from Spithead on the 23rd
December, 1787, and after having to change its first intended course by
Cape Horn for the Cape of Good Hope, arrived at Otaheite, the chief of
the Society Islands, on the 25th October, 1788. Here Bligh and his crew
were received in the most friendly way by the gentle inhabitants of the
island, and here they passed a delightful but too enervating period of
five months and a half. The worst of it was, the charms of the place
proved too strong a temptation for the seamen of the _Bounty_. The women
of Otaheite had fascinated them to a degree that deprived them of all
sense of right or duty. Well might a locality in the island be termed
“Point Venus.” The whole territory seemed a Paphos, for in no savage
land had there before ever been found women so beautiful, so agreeable,
and so affectionate. I have it from one of Captain Bligh’s descendants,
that the captain always attributed the mutiny solely to the irresistible
desire of the crew to return to the society of the Otaheite women.

Byron, in his poem, agrees with Bligh in this view, and thus depicts
Otaheite:—

          “The gentle island, and the genial soil,
          The friendly hearts, the feasts without a toil,
          The courteous manners but from Nature caught,
          The wealth unhoarded, and the love unbought;
          Could these have charms for rudest sea-boys, driven
          Before the mast by every wind of heaven?
          And now, even now prepared with others’ woes
          To earn mild Virtue’s vain desire, repose?”

Byron’s description of the Otaheite girl, Neuha, gives a fair idea of
the charms of the female population of Otaheite:—

            “There sat the gentle savage of the wild,
            In growth a woman, though in years a child,
            As childhood dates within our colder clime,
            Where nought is ripen’d rapidly save crime;
            The infant of an infant world, as pure
            From Nature—lovely, warm, and premature,
            Dusky like night, but night with all her stars;
            Or cavern sparkling with its native spars;
            With eyes that were a language and a spell,
            A form like Aphrodite’s in her shell,
            With all her loves around her on the deep,
            Voluptuous as the first approach of sleep;
            Yet full of life—for through her tropic cheek
            The blush would make its way, and all but speak;
            The sun-born blood suffused her neck, and threw
            O’er her clear nut-brown skin a lucid hue,
            Like coral reddening through the darken’d wave,
            Which draws the diver to the crimson cave.”

A slight sign of a mutinous intention was shown at one time during the
stay on the island. Charles Churchill, the ship’s corporal, and two
seamen, William Musprat and John Millward, temporarily deserted; but,
after some days’ search for them, they surrendered, and threw themselves
on Bligh’s mercy. He generously, but not wisely, as it turned out,
forgave them. Bligh had made good, however, the object of his voyage, so
far as to have received on board a great number of the bread-fruit trees
in various stages of growth, and there was every prospect of their being
capable of preservation. The ship, thus laden, quitted Otaheite on the
4th of April, 1789, and continued her course in a westerly direction,
touching at one more island, and then meditating her progress through
the Pacific Ocean towards the Moluccas. The ship lost sight of the
Friendly Islands on the 27th of that month, and everything like good
order was supposed to prevail on board—even the mid-watch was relieved
without the least apparent disorder; but at daybreak on the 28th, the
cabin of Captain Bligh, who commanded the _Bounty_, was forcibly entered
by the officer of the watch, Fletcher Christian, assisted by Churchill,
Mills, and Burkitt, who dragged him instantly on the deck, menacing his
life if he attempted to speak. His endeavour to exhort and bring back
the conspirators to their duty proved of no avail. Each of the
desperadoes was armed with a drawn cutlass or a fixed bayonet, and all
their muskets were avowed to be charged.

Captain Bligh discovered, when he came upon deck, several of the crew
and most of the officers pinioned; and while he was thus contemplating
their perilous state, the ship’s boat was let over her side, and all who
were not on the part of the conspirators, to the number of nineteen
besides the captain, were committed to the boat, and no other
nourishment afforded to them than about 140 lbs. of bread, 30 lbs. of
meat, one gallon and a half of rum, a like portion of wine, and a few
gallons of water. A compass and quadrant were secured by one of these
devoted victims as he was stepping into the boat; and thus abandoned,
the mutineers, after giving them a cheer, stood away, as they said, for
Otaheite.[17] The captain, in the dreadful situation, found his
boatswain, carpenter, gunner, surgeon’s mate, with Mr. Daniel Nelson,
the botanist, and a few inferior officers, amongst those who were likely
to share his fate. After a short consultation, it was deemed expedient
to put back to the Friendly Islands: and accordingly they landed on one
of these, in hopes they might improve their small stock of provisions,
on the 30th of April, but were driven off by the natives two days after,
and pursued with such hostility that one man was killed and several
wounded. It was then deliberated whether they should return to Otaheite
and throw themselves on the clemency of the natives, but the
apprehension of falling in with the _Bounty_ determined them with one
assent to make the best of their way to Timor; and to effect this
enterprise—astonishing to relate!—they calculated the distance, near
4,000 miles, and in order that their wretched supply of provisions might
endure till they reached the place of destination, they agreed to
apportion their food to one ounce of bread and one gill of water a day
for each man. No other nourishment did they receive till the 5th or 6th
of June, when they made the coast of New Holland, and collected a few
shell-fish; and with this scanty relief they held on their course to
Timor, which they reached on the 12th, after having been forty-six days
in a crazy, open boat, too confined in dimensions to suffer any of them
to lie down for repose, and without the least awning to protect them
from the rain, which almost incessantly fell for forty days. A heavy sea
and squally weather for great part of their course augmented their
misery. The governor of this settlement, which belonged to the Dutch,
afforded them every succour they required. They remained here to recruit
their strength and spirits till the 20th of August, when they procured a
vessel to carry them to Batavia. They reached Batavia on the 2nd of
October, and from thence Captain Bligh and two of the crew embarked for
the Cape of Good Hope, and the rest of the crew were prepared to follow
as soon as a passage could be obtained. Captain Bligh reached the Cape
about the middle of December, and soon after took his passage for
England, which he reached on the evening of the 13th of March, and
arrived in London on the 14th. Bligh’s published narrative of this
wonderful escape, the result of his own indomitable courage and
perseverance, is a work elegantly written and full of the deepest
interest. It well deserves a place by the side of the great fiction
“Robinson Crusoe” and the true voyages of Captain Cook. Bligh’s own
account of the landing at Timor is so graphic, that I cannot refrain
from giving it here:—

“I now,” he writes, “desired my people to come on shore, which was as
much as some of them could do, being scarce able to walk; they, however,
were helped to the house, and found tea, with bread-and-butter, provided
for their breakfast.

“The abilities of a painter, perhaps, could seldom have been displayed
to more advantage, than in the delineation of the two groups of figures,
which at this time presented themselves to each other. An indifferent
spectator would have been at a loss which most to admire—the eyes of
famine sparkling at immediate relief, or the horror of their preservers
at the sight of so many spectres, whose ghastly countenances, if the
cause had been unknown, would rather have excited terror than pity. Our
bodies were nothing but skin and bones, our limbs were full of sores,
and we were clothed in rags. In this condition, with the tears of joy
and gratitude flowing down our cheeks, the people of Timor beheld us
with a mixture of horror, surprise, and pity. The governor, Mr. William
Adrian Van Este, notwithstanding extreme ill-health, became so anxious
about us, that I saw him before the appointed time. He received me with
great affection, and gave me the fullest proofs that he was possessed of
every feeling of a humane and good man. Sorry as he was, he said, that
such a calamity could ever have happened to us, yet he considered it was
the greatest blessing of his life that we had fallen under his
protection; and, though his infirmity was so great that he could not do
the office of a friend himself, he would give such orders as I might be
certain would procure us every supply we wanted. A house should be
immediately prepared for me, and, with respect to my people, he said
that I might have room for them either at the hospital or on board of
Captain Spikerman’s ship, which lay in the road; and he expressed much
uneasiness that Coupang (the Dutch capital in Timor) could not afford
them better accommodations, the house assigned to me being the only one
uninhabited, and the situation of the few families that lived at this
place such that they could not conveniently receive strangers. For the
present, till matters could be properly regulated, he gave directions
that victuals for my people should be dressed at his own house.

“On returning to Captain Spikerman’s house, I found that every kind
relief had been given to my people. The surgeon had dressed their sores,
and the cleaning of their persons had not been less attended to, several
friendly gifts of apparel having been presented to them. I desired to be
shown to the house that was intended for me, which I found ready, with
servants to attend. It consisted of a hall, with a room at each end, and
a loft over-head, and was surrounded by a piazza, with an outer
apartment in one corner, and a communication at the back part of the
house to the street. I therefore determined, instead of separating from
my people, to lodge them all with me, and I divided the house as
follows:—One room I took to myself, the other I allotted to the
master-surgeon, Mr. Nelson, and the gunner; the loft to the other
officers, and the outer apartment to the men. The hall was common to the
officers, and the men had the back piazza. Of this disposition I
informed the governor, and he sent down chairs, tables, and benches,
with bedding and other necessaries for the use of every one.

“The governor, when I took my leave, had desired me to acquaint him with
everything of which I stood in need; but it was only at particular times
that he had a few moments of ease, or could attend to anything, being in
a dying state with an incurable disease. On this account I transacted
whatever business I had with Mr. Timotheus Wanjon, the second of this
place, who was the governor’s son-in-law, and who also contributed
everything in his power to make our situation comfortable. I had been,
therefore, misinformed by the seaman, who told me that Captain Spikerman
was the next person in command to the governor.

“At noon a dinner was brought to the house, sufficiently good to make
persons, more accustomed to plenty, eat too much. Yet, I believe, few in
such a condition would have observed more moderation than my people did.
My greatest apprehension was, that they would eat too much fruit, of
which there was great variety in season at this time.

“Having seen every one enjoy this meal of plenty, I dined myself with
Mr. Wanjon; but I felt no extraordinary inclination to eat or drink.
Rest and quiet I considered as more necessary to the re-establishment of
my health, and, therefore, retired soon to my room, which I found
furnished with every convenience. But, instead of rest, my mind was
disposed to reflect on our late sufferings, and on the failure of the
expedition; but, above all, on the thanks due to Almighty God, who had
given us power to support and bear such heavy calamities, and had
enabled me at last to be the means of saving eighteen lives.”

All, however, did not live to reach England. David Nelson, the botanist,
died at Coupang, of fever, brought on by fatigue. Elphinstone, the
master’s mate, and two seamen, Hull and Linkletter, died at Batavia;
Robert Lamb and Mr. Ledward, the surgeon, were lost on the return
passage. “Thus,” concludes Bligh, “of nineteen who were forced by the
mutineers into the launch, it has pleased God that twelve should
surmount the difficulties and dangers of the voyage, and live to revisit
their native country.”

To now return to the mutineers.

They, to the number of twenty-five, after getting rid of the captain and
his adherents, sailed back, in the _Bounty_, to Otaheite, but on landing
there, Christian and eight of his comrades, in dread of the offended
majesty of the British Admiralty, sought a safer refuge in the
neighbouring Pacific Island of Pitcairn. From what ensued, the names of
Christian’s eight followers should be recorded. They were Edward Young,
midshipman; John Mills, gunner’s mate; Matthew Quintal, seaman; William
McCoy, seaman; ALEXANDER SMITH, otherwise JOHN ADAMS, seaman; John
Williams, seaman; Isaac Martin, seaman; and William Brown, gardener.
When the _Bounty_ reached Pitcairn’s Island she had on board these nine
of the crew, with nine Otaheitan women; six Otaheitan men, three of whom
had wives; and a little girl, who afterwards became the wife of Charles
Christian, of the family of Fletcher. They burnt the _Bounty_ after
arriving at Pitcairn’s Island.

They had not, writes the Rev. Mr. Murray, in his admirable account of
Pitcairn, long set foot on the island, ere it became a stage for the
display of every evil passion. They were “hateful, and hating one
another.” During the frightful period of domestic warfare between the
Europeans and the blacks, in which the former often adopted the
tremendously simple rule of might against right, the blacks made common
cause together; and having planned the murder of their imperious
masters, they went, from time to time, into the woods to practise
shooting at a mark, and thus became tolerably good marksmen. Their
murderous plot reached the ears of the wives of the mutineers; and the
females are said to have disclosed it to their husbands, just before the
time appointed for the massacre, by adding to one of their songs these
words, “Why does black man sharpen axe? To kill white man.”

In the course of the deadly struggles occurring between the several
parties, Christian, Mills, Williams, Martin, and Brown, were murdered in
the year 1793, by the Otaheitan men, whom they had brought to the island
with them. Christian was the first to fall a victim to their revenge.
Mills was the next. Adams was shot, the ball entering at his shoulder
and coming out at his neck. He fell; but suddenly sprang up and ran.
They caught him; and a blow was aimed at his head with the butt-end of a
musket. This he warded off with his hand, having his finger broken by
the blow. On his again escaping, he ran down the rocks toward the sea;
but his pursuers called out to him, that if he would return, he should
not be hurt. He returned accordingly, and they troubled him no more. All
the Otaheitan men were killed in the same year, one of them having been
destroyed by Young’s wife, with an axe. As soon as she had killed the
last survivor but one of the Otaheitans, she gave a signal to her
husband to fire upon the remaining black, which was done with fatal
precision. This woman, Susannah, who afterwards married Thursday October
Christian, Fletcher Christian’s son, died at an advanced age, in the
year 1850. She was the last survivor of the _Bounty_.


But other horrors remained behind. In 1798, M‘Coy, in a fit of _delirium
tremens_, brought on by drunkenness, having thrown himself from the
rocks into the sea, was drowned. Quintal, a violent and headstrong man,
after threatening the lives of his companions, was killed by Young and
Adams, who, in 1799, took away his life with an axe, in self-defence.
Thus, six of the mutineers were murdered, and one committed suicide.
Edward Young died of asthma, in 1800. Adams, as has been seen, was
severely wounded in one of the contests that took place, but had
recovered. Only two of the fifteen men who had landed from the _Bounty_
(Young and Adams) died a natural death. The news of the mutiny and the
sufferings of Bligh excited a great sensation in England. Bligh was at
once made a commander; and Captain Edwards was forthwith dispatched to
Otaheite, in Her Majesty’s ship _Pandora_, to search for the _Bounty_,
and to arrest and bring back to England the mutinous crew. The _Pandora_
reached Otaheite the 23rd March, 1791, and before the vessel anchored,
Coleman, the armourer of the _Bounty_, came in a canoe, and gave himself
up. Two days afterwards the whole of the crew of the _Bounty_, who had
stayed at Otaheite, surrendered themselves, with the exception of two,
who fled to the mountains, and were murdered by the natives.

After a tempestuous voyage and a shipwreck, in which four of his
prisoners perished, Captain Edwards succeeded in bringing ten of the
mutineers to England. These were tried by court-martial.

By the 15th article of war, statute 22 George II., cap. 33, every person
in, or belonging to, the fleet, who shall run away with any of His
Majesty’s ships or vessels of war, shall, on being convicted of such
offence, by the sentence of the court-martial, suffer death; and by the
16th article of war of the same statute, every person in, or belonging
to, the fleet, who shall desert or entice others to do so, shall suffer
death, or such other punishment as the circumstances of the offence
shall deserve, and a court-martial shall judge fit: and by the 19th
article of war of the same statute, if any person in, or belonging to,
the fleet, shall make, or endeavour to make, any mutinous assembly, upon
any pretence whatever, every person offending herein, and being
convicted thereof by the sentence of the court-martial, shall suffer
death.

The court-martial in this case was held at Portsmouth, on board His
Majesty’s ship _Duke_, on the 12th September, 1792. Vice-Admiral Lord
Hood was the President. The officers who sat at the trial were Captains
Sir A. S. Hamond, Bart., John Colpoys, Sir George Montagu, Sir Roger
Curtis, John Bazeley, Sir Andrew S. Douglas, John T. Duckworth, John N.
Inglefield, John Knight, Albemarle Bertie, (afterwards Admiral of the
White, K.B., and a Baronet), and R. G. Keats.

The names of the ten prisoners, capitally charged with mutiny and
piracy, were Peter Heywood, James Morrison, Thomas Ellison, Thomas
Burkitt, John Millward, William Muspratt, Charles Norman, Joseph
Coleman, Thomas M^cIntosh, and Michael Byrne.

The trial was concluded on the sixth day, the 18th of September, when
the prisoners were brought in. The court having agreed that the charges
of running away with the ship and deserting His Majesty’s service had
been proved against six of the prisoners, they found Heywood, Morrison,
Ellison, Burkitt, Millward, and Muspratt _guilty_, and adjudged them to
suffer death by being hanged by the neck on board one of His Majesty’s
ships-of-war. The court acquitted Norman, Coleman, McIntosh, and Byrne,
and recommended Peter Heywood and James Morrison to His Majesty’s mercy.

On the 24th of October, 1792, the royal warrant was dispatched, granting
a free pardon to Heywood (he died a captain, R.N., the 10th of February,
1831) and to Morrison, with a respite for Muspratt. At the same time was
sent a warrant for executing Burkitt, Ellison, and Millward. Muspratt
was afterwards pardoned. Millward and Muspratt, with Churchill, were the
men who had been deserters at Otaheite, and who had been forgiven by
Bligh for that offence. Burkitt had been forward in the mutiny on board
the _Bounty_. Ellison was a mere boy on the occasion of that act of
violence; he is thus described in the list forwarded from Batavia in
October, 1789:—“Thomas Ellison, seaman, aged seventeen years, five feet
three inches high, fair complexion, dark hair, strong made; has got his
name tattooed on his right arm, and dated October 25, 1788.”

Morrison, before his connection with the _Bounty_, had served in the
navy as a midshipman, and, after his pardon, had been appointed gunner
of the _Blenheim_, in which he perished with Admiral Sir Thomas
Troubridge. In a violent gale on the 1st of February, 1807, that vessel
was lost, with all the passengers and crew on her way from Madras to the
Cape of Good Hope.

Burkitt, Ellison and Millward were executed, pursuant to their sentence,
on the 26th of October, 1792, on board the ship _Brunswick_, in
Portsmouth Harbour. Captain Hammond reported that the criminals had
behaved with great penitence and decorum, had acknowledged the justice
of their sentence, and exhorted their fellow-sailors to take warning by
their untimely fate, enjoining them, whatever might be their hardships,
never to forget their obedience to their officers, but to remember the
duty which they owed to their king and country. The captain said that a
party from each ship in the harbour, and at Spithead, had attended the
execution; and that from the accounts he had received, the example seems
to have made a salutary impression on the minds of all the ships’
companies present.

More than sixteen years elapsed after that act of justice before aught
more was heard of the remaining mutineers of the _Bounty_, when, in
1808, the captain of an American schooner, by chance wintering at
Pitcairn’s Island, made the wonderful discovery thus narrated by
himself:—

“We left the friendly Marquesans on the 2nd of September, and were
proceeding on our voyage, to regain the port of Valparaiso, steering a
course which ought, according to the charts, and every other authority,
to have carried us nearly three degrees of longitude to the eastward of
Pitcairn’s Island, our surprise was greatly excited by its sudden
appearance; it was in the second watch that we made it. At daylight we
proceeded to a more close examination, and soon perceived huts,
cultivation, and people; of the latter, some were making signs, others
launching their little canoes through the surf, into which they threw
themselves with great dexterity, and pulled towards us.

“At this moment, I believe, neither Captain Bligh (of the _Bounty_) nor
Christian had entered any of our thoughts; and in waiting the approach
of strangers, we prepared to ask them some questions in the language of
those people we had so recently left. They approached us; and for me to
picture the wonder which was conspicuous in every countenance at being
hailed in perfect English, ‘What was the name of the ship, and who
commanded her?’ would be impossible; our surprise can alone be
conceived. The captain answered, and now a regular conversation
commenced. He requested them to come alongside, and the reply was, ‘We
have no boat-hook to hold on by.’ ‘I will throw you a rope.’ ‘If you do
we have nothing to make it fast to.’ was the answer. However, they at
length came on board, exemplifying not the least fear, but their
astonishment was unbounded. After the friendly salutation of ‘Good
morrow, sir,’ from the first man who entered, Mackay, for that was his
name, said, ‘Do you know one William Bligh in England?’ This question
threw a new light on the subject, and he was immediately asked ‘If he
knew one Christian?’ and the reply was given with so much natural
simplicity, that I shall here use his own words: ‘Oh, yes,’ said he,
‘very well; his son is in the boat there, coming up; his name is Friday
Fletcher October Christian; his father is dead now—he was shot by a
black fellow.’ Several of them had now reached the ship, and the scene
was become exceedingly interesting; every one betrayed the greatest
anxiety to know the ultimate fate of that misled young man, of whose end
so many vague reports had been in circulation, and those who did not ask
questions, devoured with avidity every word which led to an elucidation
of the mysterious termination of the unfortunate _Bounty_.

“Christian was shot by a black fellow—it was supposed through a jealousy
which was known to exist between the people of Otaheite and the English;
he was shot while at work in the yam plantation; the man who shot
Christian was afterwards shot by an Englishman. A further dispute arose
between the Otaheitans and English after the death of Christian, when
the blacks rose and shot two Englishmen and wounded John Adams, the only
surviving man of the mutineers, who saved himself from being murdered by
hiding himself in the wood; and the same night the women, enraged by the
murder of the English, to whom they were more partial than their
countrymen, rose and put every Otaheitan to death in his sleep. This
saved Adams. His wounds were soon healed; and, although old, he enjoys
good health. Christian brought with him from Otaheite, in the _Bounty_,
nine white men, six blacks, and eleven women; and at that time there
were forty-eight persons on the island. Adams had told them he had been
on the island about twenty-five years; that the _Bounty_ was run on
shore, and everything useful taken out of her, and then set fire to and
burnt. Christian was shot about two years after he came to the island,
his wife having died soon after the birth of his son; and he taking by
force the wife of one of the blacks to supply her place, was the chief
cause of his being shot; and his son, Friday Fletcher October Christian,
was the oldest person on the island, except John Adams. They were
allowed to marry at the age of nineteen or twenty, but not to have more
than one wife, as it was considered wicked to have more; and being asked
if they had been taught any religion, they answered, ‘A very good
religion,’ and to their credit they went through the whole of the
Belief, and said that John Adams had taught it them by order of F.
Christian; and he caused a prayer to be said every day at noon: ‘I will
arise and go to my father, and say unto him, Father, I have sinned
against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy
son,’ which they continued to say every day, and never neglected it.


“John Adams was a fine-looking old man, approaching to sixty years of
age. We conversed with him a long time relative to the mutiny of the
_Bounty_ and the ultimate fate of Christian; he denied being accessary
to, or having the least knowledge of, the conspiracy.


“He told me he was perfectly aware how deeply he was involved; that by
following the fortune of Christian he had not only sacrificed every
claim to his country, but that his life was the necessary forfeiture for
such an act, and he supposed would be exacted from him was he ever to
return. Notwithstanding all these circumstances, nothing would give him
so much gratification as that of seeing once more, prior to his death,
that country which gave him birth, and from which he had been so long
estranged. There was sincerity in his speech; I can hardly describe it,
but it had a very powerful influence in persuading me that these were
his real sentiments. My interest was excited to so great a degree that I
offered him a conveyance for himself and any of his family who chose to
accompany him. He appeared pleased at the proposal, and, as no one was
then present, he sent for his wife and children; the rest of the little
community surrounded the door. He communicated his desire, and solicited
their acquiescence. Appalled at a request not less sudden than in
opposition to their wishes, they were all at a loss for a reply. His
charming daughter, although inundated with tears, first broke silence.
‘Oh, do not, sir,’ said she, ‘take from me my father—do not take away my
best, my dearest friend.’ Her voice failed her—she was unable to
proceed; she leaned her head on her hand, and gave full vent to her
grief. His wife, too (an Otaheitan), expressed a lively sorrow. The
wishes of Adams soon became known among the others, who joined in
pathetic solicitation for his stay on the island. Not an eye was dry;
the big tears stood in those of the men; the women shed them in full
abundance: I never witnessed a scene so fully affecting, or more replete
with interest. To have taken him from a circle of such friends would
have ill become a feeling heart; to have forced him away, in opposition
to their joint entreaties, would have been an outrage to humanity. With
an assurance that it was neither our wish nor intention to take him away
against his inclination, their fears were at length dissipated. His
daughter, too, had gained her usual serenity; but she was lovely in her
tears, for each seemed to add an additional charm. Forgetting the
unhappy deed which placed Adams in that spot, and seeing him only in the
character he now is, at the head of a little community, adored by all,
instructing all in religion, industry, and friendship, his situation
might be truly envied, and one is almost inclined to hope that his
unremitting attention to the government and morals of this extraordinary
little colony, will ultimately form an equivalent for the part he
formerly took.

“Several books belonging to Captain Bligh, which were taken out of the
_Bounty_, were then in the possession of Adams, and the “First Voyage of
Captain Cook” was brought on board the _Briton_. In the title-page of
each volume the name of Captain Bligh was written, and I suppose in his
own writing. Christian had written his own name immediately under it,
without running his pen through, or in any way defacing, that of Captain
Bligh. On the margin of several of the leaves were written, in pencil,
numerous remarks on the work; but, as I consider them to have been the
private remarks of Captain Bligh, and written unsuspecting the
much-lamented event which subsequently took place, they shall by me be
held sacred.”

From that time forward the colony at Pitcairn’s Island was again and
again visited, and eventually became a continual subject of public
interest. Adams remained its revered patriarch till 1829, when he died
at the age of sixty-nine. The colony was afterwards admirably directed
by the Rev. G. H. Nobbs, who, as chaplain of the Island, was ordained by
the Rt. Rev. Dr. Bloomfield, bishop of London; and before returning to
Pitcairn after his ordination he had an interview with the Queen and the
Prince Consort, who both evinced the warmest and most cordial concern in
the welfare and happiness of the colonists. As time went on and the
numbers in the colony increased, Pitcairn’s Island became too small for
their support, and they were, on their own wish, removed by Government
to Norfolk Island, a lovely spot which had recently been given up as a
convict settlement. I cannot better conclude this account of the
Islanders than with the following interesting extract, which is from a
letter written by Captain W. H. Denhem, of Her Majesty’s ship _Herald_,
in charge of the survey in the South-Western Pacific Ocean, under date
“Norfolk Island, 16th June, 1856,” having reference to the Pitcairn
Islanders taking possession of their new settlement, Norfolk Island:—

“On the morning of the 31st instant, having arranged with Lieut. John
Hutchinson and Mr. J. W. Smith, assistant-surveyors, in regard to
completing the survey of the island and its inlets, together with lines
of soundings to the edge of the bank upon its surrounding aspects, in
connection with our survey of last year, I effected a landing.

“Looking to the date of the transport _Morayshire_, which left Sydney
under the instructions of his Excellency the Governor-General and of
Captain Stephen G. Fremantle, to bring the Pitcairn Island community to
this island, I had reason to expect them every day. And as the presence
of one of Her Majesty’s ships at the new home of that interesting people
would doubtlessly cheer them, as well as afford them essential aid in
landing and organising, on the one hand, whilst as simultaneously as
possible clearing the island of its residue as a penal settlement (upon
all of which points and general views I was cognizant of the wishes of
the Government), I became solicitous of being on the spot. I therefore
had only to hope that the transport would arrive before my primary
object in taking Norfolk Island _en route_, to the Polynesian Islands
could be accomplished.

“Fortunately, on Sunday the 8th instant, although a gloomy and
boisterous day, with considerable surf, the _Morayshire_ not only closed
with the island, but being joined by the _Herald_, and assisted by a
tracing of our survey, she took up a favourable position for
disembarkation, and by sunset the Pitcairn community, numbering 194
persons, were comfortably housed as well as landed without accident. I
was invited to their first evening Church service at their new home,
when a special thanksgiving was rendered unto God for the preservation
vouchsafed, and His guidance implored in the new era they had just
entered upon. It was an exemplary manifestation of habitual piety that
would not allow fatigue, amounting with many to almost exhaustion, nor
that excitement in the robust at the extreme novelty of matters around
them, to interfere with their wonted primary duty in life; on the
contrary, these artless, self-denying people, seemed to gather physical
comfort and energy as they responded to our beautiful Church Service,
rendered the more touchingly so by their admirable chanting, as they
listened patiently and devoted to the well-adapted exhortation of their
reverend pastor and counsellor, the Rev. George Hunn Nobbs. This
gentleman could not rest until he had explained to me the pervading
gratitude which the arrangements for the transit and reception of his
flock had excited.

“To the manner in which Acting-Lieut. Gregorie managed their
embarkation, so that every moveable article, even to the ‘gun’ and
‘anvil’ of the _Bounty_, has been transferred; to the accommodating
spirit in which the master of the transport followed out his undertaking
on a five weeks’ passage, during which the most tender treatment was
necessary for alarming cases of sea-sickness that ceased not from island
to island, including a birth which took place; and finally, to the
joyful sight of one of the Queen’s ships, in whose boats, under Lieut.
John Hutchinson, of the _Herald_, and in the separate charge of Messrs.
Nixon, Howard, and Nugent, they were landed, while the commissariat
officer and myself greeted them individually as they set foot on shore,
and conducted them to the comfortably-prepared quarters, until they made
their own selections from the ample dwellings erected for them, may be
attributed the happy accomplishment of an event so vitally important to
this peculiar community, in conformity with the deep interest taken in
them by Her Majesty and the Government.

“The ensuing week has been successfully employed in landing all the
seventy years’ gathering of chattels belonging to the Pitcairners,
notwithstanding the precarious seaboard of this island, causing the
ships to put to sea every night. They could, therefore, duly observe
yesterday’s Sabbath in the fitted-up church they had seen, and in which
the sacrament was most impressively administered to us, together with
every adult of the new congregation—a privilege I can never forget.
Another solemnity marked this Sabbath, which, by our attending, assuaged
the general depression which their first mourning visit to the cemetery
was calculated to inflict; it being their custom for the whole of the
community to attend each funeral. In the present case it was to inter a
female infant, which had been embarked in a most delicate state, but had
survived the voyage, though beyond medical relief when placed under the
care of one of my medical officers, Mr. Denis Macdonald, in whose arms,
as a slight consolation to its parents, it expired.

“Adverting to Pitcairn Island, future voyagers may find fresh beef
there, as its late settlers left a bull and nine cows upon it. The pigs
were destroyed, lest they might, in time, break through the fence and
disturb the graveyard.”

A word or two remain to be said about Bligh. His subsequent career was
also one of public distinction: he was made a post-captain, and went on
a second and successful voyage, with the same object as the first, to
Otaheite. He was absent on it at the time of the court-martial. In 1797
the Admiralty employed him to go among the mutineers of the Nore, to
endeavour to call the misguided men to a sense of duty; he behaved on
the occasion with great courage and discretion. In 1801 Bligh commanded
the _Glatton_, at the battle of Copenhagen, under Lord Nelson, and was
publicly thanked by his Lordship after the action. He was subsequently
Governor of New South Wales, and became finally a Vice-Admiral of the
Blue. He died in Bond-street, London, on the 7th December, 1817, and was
interred in the churchyard of St. Mary’s, Lambeth, where a tomb has been
erected to his memory. Admiral Bligh married, at Douglas, Isle of Man,
Elizabeth, daughter of Richard Beetham, LL.D., Comptroller of the
Customs, Isle of Man, by his wife, Miss Campbell, daughter of Principal
Campbell, of Glasgow College. (Dr. Beetham was a contemporary at college
of David Hume, Adam Smith, and Lord Selkirk, and an intimacy was kept up
between them in after-life.)

Admiral Bligh, by his marriage, had two sons, who died in infancy, and
six daughters, one of whom only, Miss Jane Bligh, still survives. Three
of the daughters were married—viz., 1. Harriet, who married Henry
Barker, Esq., of Willsbridge, and left issue; 2. Mary, who married,
first, Lieutenant Putland, of the family of Putland, of Brayhead, in the
county of Wicklow, by whom she had no issue; and secondly,
Lieutenant-General Sir Maurice O’Connell, K.C.H., and by him left
Lieutenant-Colonel R. O’Connell, R.A., and other issue; 3. Elizabeth,
who married Richard Bligh, Esq., barrister-at-law, and left issue.

I cannot conclude without expressing how very much I am indebted in the
above particulars to the work entitled, “Pitcairn: the Island, the
People, and the Pastor,” by the Rev. Thomas Boyles Murray, M.A., which
has had merited success, and which deserves even still more extensive
perusal.

The mutiny of the _Bounty_ is an event that should be a solemn warning
to every seaman in the navy, showing, as it does, the magic power of
discipline, and the misery of insubordination. Bligh, and those who
adhered to him, were preserved for nearly 4,000 miles in an open boat by
the mere maintenance of discipline; while Christian and most of his
guilty comrades, though having an armed vessel of war in their absolute
power, perished miserably, because they had forsaken that system of duty
and obedience which is the life-spring and the sacred safeguard of their
profession.




                        THE MUTINY AT THE NORE.


On the 14th January, 1797, the glorious battle off Cape St. Vincent had
been won by as famous a band of heroes as the world ever saw; and the
names and deeds of the victors, Jervis, Nelson, Troubridge, Collingwood,
Calder Saumarez, and Parker, were the talk and pride of all England.
This naval triumph, in which Nelson boarded one man-of-war of eighty
guns, and then another of 112 guns, and captured them both at the edge
of the sword,—this triumph, in which fifteen British sail of the line
defeated twenty-seven sail of the Spaniards, amongst them one vessel of
130 guns, and six of 112 guns,—this triumph, in fine, which was so
completely decisive, made revolutionary Europe quail, and feel it had
met its greatest check in the indomitable force and spirit of England on
the seas. The general public exultation was natural enough; but, alas!
before a few months passed, an event was to happen which was to throw a
shadow, fortunately not of long duration, yet of the darkest hue that
ever fell, upon the navy of Great Britain. This was the dire and
discreditable revolt, known as “the Mutiny at the Nore.”

This criminal insurrection was preceded by a less unjustifiable outbreak
at Spithead, caused by the complaints of the sailors being totally and
foolishly neglected by the parties in power; for the sailors did, in
1797, labour under many grievances, “which,” writes Mr. C. D. Yonge, in
his able “History of the British Navy,” “though they were inflicted on
them through neglect and carelessness, rather than from any deliberate
injustice, were not the less intolerable on that account. Their pay had
not been raised from the sum at which it had been fixed in the time of
the Duke of York, afterwards James II., though the price of all the
necessaries of life had greatly risen. Their pensions, too, were left at
the same amount, though those to which the soldiers became entitled had
augmented. What was even more irritating, as carrying with it a greater
appearance of intended unfairness, was, that for the provisions served
out to them a lighter weight[18] was established than that used in
ordinary traffic; while even for that light weight they were wholly at
the mercy of the pursers, who at that time were commonly taken from a
very inferior class of men, and who cheated and robbed the sailors
without scruple and without limit. Other minor causes of complaint
related to the general severity of the naval discipline; the constant
refusal of leave even to men in harbour; and a variety of trifling
matters, which, had they stood alone, would hardly have been thought of,
but which no one could deny to be undeserved hardships, and which now
served to swell the catalogue of evils which the men were resolved no
longer to endure.”

In the month of February, 1797, the crews of four of the line-of-battle
ships at Spithead forming the Channel Fleet, the _Queen Charlotte_, the
flag-ship, being amongst them, addressed separate petitions to Lord
Howe, their commander-in-chief. Lord Howe, being ill, referred the
petitions to Admirals Lord Bridport and Sir Peter Parker, who, not
inquiring closely into the matter, merely replied, that the petitions
were the work of some evil-disposed persons. Consequently, the complete
indifference these really peaceable and loyal addresses experienced
drove the seamen to extremes. An agitation amongst them being perceived
by those in authority, the Admiralty ordered the Channel Fleet to put to
sea. On the 16th April Lord Bridport made the signal to prepare to weigh
anchor. This led to an open mutiny, the men running up the shrouds and
giving three cheers, and then proceeding to take the command of their
ships from their officers. Two delegates from each ship were appointed
to conduct the entire negotiation with the Admiralty; for throughout,
these mutineers showed themselves bent on remonstrance only, and not
rebellion. This line of conduct had its effect, for on investigation the
lords of the Admiralty admitted the justice and moderation of the
seamen’s demands, and on the representation of their lordships, the
Government agreed to grant all that was asked. This was done, and a
royal proclamation issued, pardoning all such seamen as should at once
return to their duty. After some renewal of agitation caused by
parliamentary delay in carrying out the measures conceded, Lord Howe
brought down a free pardon under the great seal to the fleet, and the
men having expressed their contrition, cheerfully returned to submission
and allegiance, and in less than a month every symptom of discontent
among the two great fleets at Portsmouth and Plymouth had entirely
passed away.

Unfortunately, this redress of grievances was obtained by a display of
force, and this led other seamen to suppose that further and less
reasonable acquisitions might be had in the same way. A fresh and a
terrible mutiny broke out in the fleet stationed at the Nore, differing
entirely from the revolt at Spithead. In the former instance, in the
very height of disobedience, the sailors never lost their reverence for
discipline, nor their respect for their superior officers. The mutineers
at the Nore were simply rebels, with a very commonplace traitor for
their leader. This man, Richard Parker, was just one of those persons
who, of humble life and of evil spirit, with a little education, are so
often found to be the chiefs of popular insurrections. He was a native
of Exeter, where he was born about the year 1765 or 1766. His father,
Joseph Parker, was a respectable tradesman, and kept a baker’s shop at
St. Sidwell’s, in the bounds of Exeter city. Young Richard Parker
received a good education, and in the course of time went to sea, which
he had chosen as the scene of his future career. He obtained a
midshipman’s berth on board the _Culloden_, but was discharged from her
for gross misconduct. He contrived to get similar rank on board the
_Leander_, but he was again turned out. He subsequently acted as a mate
in the _Resistance_ frigate, but his continued bad behaviour brought him
to a court-martial, and reduced him to the position of a common sailor.
He quitted the navy invalided, returned home, and married Miss Ann
Machardy, a young lady resident in Exeter, but of Scottish origin, being
a member of a respectable family in the county of Aberdeen. Her name
deserves to be preserved, for her devotion to her husband made quite a
heroine of her. This marriage led Parker to remove to Scotland, where he
embarked in some mercantile speculations that proved unsuccessful. The
issue was, that he found himself involved in difficulties, and without
the means to maintain his wife and two children. In Edinburgh, where
these embarrassments fell upon him and placed him for a time in gaol, he
had no friends to apply to, and in a moment of desperation he took the
king’s bounty, and became again a common sailor on board a tender at
Leith. When he had communicated to his wife the step he had taken, she
was in the greatest distress, and resolved to set off instantly for
Aberdeen, in order to procure from her brother there the means of hiring
two seamen as substitutes for her husband. Though successful in raising
the necessary funds, no time was allowed her to complete her project. On
her return from Aberdeen, she was only in time to see the tender sail
for the Nore, with her husband on board. Her grief on the occasion was
bitterly aggravated by the death of one of her children. Parker’s
sufferings were shown to be equally acute by his conduct when the vessel
sailed. Exclaiming that he saw the body of the child floating on the
waves, he leaped overboard, and was with difficulty rescued and restored
to life. In this gloomy state of mind, in the beginning of May, 1797,
Parker reached the Nore, or point dividing the mouths of the Thames and
the Medway. Probably on account of his former experience and station as
a seaman, he was drafted on board the _Sandwich_, which was the
guard-ship, and bore the flag of Admiral Buckner, the port admiral. The
mutinous spirit which afterwards broke out certainly existed on board of
the Nore squadron before Parker’s arrival. Communications were kept up
in secret between the various crews, and the mischief was gradually
drawing to a head. But though Parker did not originate the feeling of
insubordination, his ardent temper, boldness, and superior intelligence,
soon became known to his comrades, and made him a prominent man among
them. He, cunningly availing himself of their general discontent, and
assisted, as there seems no doubt, by agents from some of the
revolutionary societies at that time existing in London, hastened the
open mutiny, of which he was appointed the chief. The plans being at
length matured, the seamen rose simultaneously against their officers,
and deprived them of their arms, as well as of all command in the ships,
though behaving respectfully to them in all other respects. Each vessel
was put under the government of a committee of twelve men, and to
represent the whole body of seamen, every man-of-war appointed two
delegates, and each gunboat one, to act for the common good. Of these
delegates Richard Parker was president. This representative body drew up
a list of grievances of which they demanded the removal. Parker signed
these documents, and they were published over the whole kingdom, with
his name, as well as presented to Port-Admiral Buckner, through whom
they were sent to Government.

When these proceedings commenced, the mutineers were suffered to go on
shore, and they paraded about Sheerness, where a part of the fleet lay,
with music, flags (red in colour—the customary hue of insubordination),
and other appendages of a triumphal procession. But, on the 22nd of May,
troops were sent to Sheerness to put a stop to this indulgence. Being
thus confined to their ships, the mutineers having come to no agreement
with Admiral Buckner, began to take more decisive measures for extorting
compliance with their demands, as well as for insuring their own safety.
The vessels at Sheerness moved down to the Nore, and the combined force
of the insurgents, which at its greatest height consisted of twenty-four
sail, proceeded to block up the Thames, by refusing a free passage up or
down to the London trade. Foreign vessels and a few small craft were
suffered to go by, first receiving a passport, signed by Richard Parker,
as president of the delegates. In a day or two the mutineers had an
immense number of vessels under their detention. The mode in which they
kept these was as follows:—The vessels of war were ranged in a line, at
considerable distances from each other, and in the interspaces were
placed the merchant vessels, having the broadsides of the men-at-war
pointed at them. The appearance of the whole assemblage is described as
having been at once stupendous and apalling. The red flag floated from
the mast-head of every one of the mutineer ships—a sad and a disgraceful
sight.

It may be well imagined that the alarm of the citizens of London was
extreme. The Government, however, though unable at the period to quell
the insurgents by force, remained firm in their demand of “unconditional
submission as a necessary preliminary to any intercourse.” This,
perhaps, was the very best line of conduct that could have been adopted.
The seamen—and it was a palliation of their misguided behaviour—never
seemed to think of assuming an offensive attitude, and were thereby left
in quiet to meditate on the dangerous position in which they stood in
hostility to a whole country. They grew timorous, the more so as the
Government had caused all the buoys to be removed from the mouth of the
Thames and the adjacent coasts, so that no vessel durst attempt to move
away for fear of running aground. The mutineering vessels held together,
nevertheless, till the 30th of May, when the _Clyde_ frigate was carried
off through a combination of its officers with some of the seamen, and
was followed by the _Fiorenzo_. These vessels were fired upon, but
escaped up the river. On the 4th of June, the king’s birthday, the Nore
fleet showed that loyalty to their sovereign still existed, by firing a
general salute. On the 5th another frigate left the fleet, and its place
was supplied by a sloop and four men-of-war, which had left Admiral
Duncan’s fleet at the Texel to join the mutiny. On the 6th Admiral Lord
Northesk met the delegates by desire on board the _Sandwich_, and
received from them proposals for an accommodation, to which Parker still
put his name as president. The answer was a firm refusal, and this
firmness seems to have fairly humbled the remaining spirit of the
mutineers. From that time one vessel after another deserted the band,
and put themselves under the protection of the fleet at Sheerness. On
the 10th the merchantmen were allowed, by common consent, to pass up the
river, and such a multitude of ships certainly never entered a port by
one tide. By the 12th only seven ships had the red flag flying, and on
the 16th the mutiny had terminated, every ship having been restored to
the command of its officers. A party of soldiers went on board the
_Sandwich_, and to them the officers surrendered the delegates of the
ship, namely, a man named Davis and Richard Parker. The latter was
confined in the black-hole of Sheerness garrison until his trial, which
was preceded by the trials of some others of the mutineers. Two, who,
like Parker, suffered death, were tried at the court-martial held on
board the _Royal William_, at Portsmouth, on the 21st June.

This court-martial had before it the six mutineers belonging to the
_Pompée_. The evidence of all the witnesses, to the number of seventeen,
on the part of the prosecution, went strongly to condemn the prisoners
Gutherie, Calloway, Ashley, and Johnson; and some circumstances tended
to make Davis and Braham more connected with the business. In the course
of the evidence called and questioned, it appeared that these
disaffected men were not able to get a real seaman to sign their paper,
or to take the oath tendered. Such men as took the oath did it through
fear, and were the illiterate part of the crew, most of whom could not
write their names or understand what they had sworn to. It is but
justice to the well-affected part of the ship’s company to admit the
propriety of their conduct, in exposing the proceedings of the six
prisoners. The conduct of Sergeant Sweet, of the Marines, in giving his
evidence, was particularly commendable. The testimony on the part of the
Crown closed at four o’clock. Several papers, very essential to clear up
this black and mysterious business, had been destroyed; the only thing
found was amongst Johnson’s clothes, which was a form of oath, as
follows:—“I, ——, do swear to stand true till death in promoting the
cause of liberty with equity, while a prospect of obtaining it remains.”
Here the paper was torn, which showed there was something more to
follow. The trial was so numerously attended from the ship and the
shore, that props were obliged to be put under the beams of the _Royal
William_, to support the immense number of people who flocked on board.

The court-martial ended on the 23rd June, at half-past six. By the
sentence of the court, Calloway, Gutherie, Johnson, and Ashley were to
suffer death; but the two former were recommended to mercy. A fifth
mutineer was to be imprisoned twelve months, and the sixth acquitted.
This sentence was confirmed, and Johnson and Ashley were executed on the
28th June.

The trial and conviction of these men were followed by the more
momentous trial of Parker. This took place at Greenhithe upon the
morning of the 22nd June, 1797, at ten o’clock. A court-martial was held
on board the _Neptune_, in pursuance of an order from the Lords
Commissioners of the Admiralty, for the trial of Richard Parker, a
seaman on board the _Sandwich_, upon charges of which the following is
the substance:—Making, and endeavouring to make, mutinous assemblies on
board the _Sandwich_, and others of her Majesty’s ships at the Nore, on
or about the 12th of May; disobeying the lawful orders of his superior
officers, and treating his superior officers with disrespect.

Captain Moss, of the _Sandwich_, was the prosecutor; and the court was
composed of the following officers:—

              President, Vice-Admiral Sir Thomas Paisley,
                                 Bart.
              Comm.   Sir Erasmus Gower   _Neptune_,    98
              Captain Stanhope            Ditto
              „       Markham             _Centaur_,    74
              „       Williamson          _Agincourt_,  64
              „       Wells               _Lancaster_   64
              „       Lane                _Acasto_,     44
              „       Sir Thomas Williams _Endymion_,   36
              „       King                _Syrius_,     36
              „       Pierrepoint         _Naiad_,      36
              „       Riou                _Mary Yacht_, 36

Admiral Buckner was the first witness called.

_Q._ “Do you know the prisoner?—_A. Yes._

_Q._ “Does the prisoner belong to the _Sandwich_?—_A._ I heard so; but
in what capacity I know not.

_Q._ “Will you report what you know of the prisoner being concerned in a
mutiny on board the fleet at the Nore, on or about the 12th of May; or
of any instances of disrespectful language or conduct to his officers
during the time this mutiny existed?—_A._ The first time I observed
anything particular in the prisoner’s conduct, farther than parading
about with a vast number of people on shore with a red flag, was on or
about the 20th of May, when I went on board the _Sandwich_ for the
purpose of making known to that ship and others his Majesty’s
proclamation of pardon on their returning to their duty, on the terms
granted to their brethren at Spithead, which the delegates, among whom
was Parker, had previously assured me they would be satisfied with. On
my going on board with my flag in my boat there was no respect shown me
whatever. The officers were then without their side-arms, and had no
command in the ship. Unwilling to return on shore till an opportunity
offered for my speaking to the people, I waited for a considerable time,
when Parker, with others, came on the quarterdeck, and said that none
other but themselves (meaning, I presume, the ship’s company), should be
present. The prisoner then tendered me a paper containing what he called
a list of grievances, saying, at the same time, that until those were
redressed, they would not give up the power then in their hands. They
insisted, also, on the personal attendance of the Admiralty to ratify
their demands. Finding my efforts to restore order of no avail, I went
on shore. On the 22nd certain troops arrived at Sheerness; on the 23rd
my flag was struck on board the _Sandwich_. On the evening of that day I
was examining at the Commissioner’s house; and while I was inquiring
into complaints laid against two marines by a part of the military, the
prisoner and a man whom they called Davies, with three or four others, I
believe, came abruptly into the house, and demanded why those men were
in custody; telling me, at the same time, that my flag was struck, that
I had no authority, and that the power was in their hands. They then
took the men away, as they said, to trial. Another expression made use
of by Parker was that he was not to be intimidated. About the 4th of
June I received a letter from Parker, or rather, I should say, with his
signature. In this letter he said that the Administration had acted
improperly in stopping the provisions, and that the foolish proclamation
was calculated to inflame the minds of honest men. I have nothing more
particular to relate.

_Q._ “You have had frequent conferences with the prisoner?—_A._ With him
at the head of many others, in order to bring them to a sense of their
conduct. He, in general, took the lead as the spokesman, sometimes with
a degree of insolence, appealing to the rest whether he was not
authorized to speak the sense of the whole, and if it was their wish it
should be so. He even prevented one man in particular, whose name I
don’t know, from answering a question I had put to him; saying, at the
same time, ‘Hold your tongue; if you don’t, I’ll take care of you.’
While I was on board the _Sandwich_, I forgot to mention that I
remonstrated with them against keeping those disgraceful ropes, called
yard-ropes, hanging; but the delegates, amongst whom was the prisoner,
refused to remove them.

_Q._ “In your conversation with the prisoner, did you ever experience
any degree of insolence?—_A._ I sometimes did; but generally his
deportment was the reverse, and he behaved with a great deal of apparent
respect.” (Here were read Admiral Buckner’s letter to the Admiralty
informing the Lords Commissioners of the mutiny; a letter from Captain
Moss to Admiral Buckner, informing him of certain particulars respecting
the mutiny; Richard Parker’s letter to Admiral Buckner, the substance of
which was stated in the Admiral’s evidence.)

The prisoner put some questions to show that the Admiral had been
treated with respect. The President of the Court advised the prisoner to
invalidate, if he could, by any question, that part of the narrative of
Admiral Buckner which stated that he had released two marines, and told
the Admiral that all his authority on board ship was at an end. The
prisoner put no question to this effect. The other witnesses this day
examined were—Lieut. Justice, of the _Sandwich_, and Mr. Snipe, Surgeon
of the _Sandwich_, who stated that Parker acted as President of the
Committee, and leading man on all occasions. The prisoner was about to
ask some questions; but, being cautioned by the Court that they might
criminate himself, they were withdrawn. Captain Surridge, of the _Iris_,
who was present at what passed at Commissioner Hartwell’s, and Captain
Dixon, of _L’Espion_, who accompanied Admiral Buckner on board the
_Sandwich_, confirmed the Admiral’s evidence. At four o’clock Captain
Dixon’s evidence was interrupted, and the Court adjourned to the next
day.

_June 23._—The witnesses examined were—Captain John Wood, of the
_Hound_; Nicholas Plat, third lieutenant of the _Sandwich_; William
Levingstone, boatswain of the _Director_; Samuel Hallard, carpenter of
the _Director_; Thomas Barry, seaman of the _Monmouth_; and John
Summerland, seaman of the _Monmouth_, and others, most of whom were
severally cross-examined by the prisoner. The evidence for the Crown
being closed, the President asked when the prisoner would be ready for
his defence, who said that he thought that he could not be ready before
Monday.

_June 26._—The judge-advocate informed the prisoner, that in consequence
of his application for certain witnesses necessary to his defence, those
witnesses had been sent for to Sheerness, and were then present. The
court then informed him that he might proceed with his defence, and
asked him whether he chose to read it himself, or to let the
judge-advocate read it. He replied he would read it himself; and then
addressed the court in the following terms:—

“As I have been brought up from my youth to the sea, to the knowledge of
some persons now present, nothing can be expected from me but a plain
statement of facts; and it is impossible for me to dress up my defence
in such pompous terms as I might do if I had the assistance of a lawyer.
In the first place, I beg to return my thanks to the court for having
indulged me with sufficient time to prepare my defence against the heavy
charges which are brought against me. Nothing but the consciousness of
the integrity of my intentions, and that I entered into this business
with the hope of checking the progress of that bad spirit which I saw
prevail among the fleet, could support me in the situation in which I
now stand. Vice-Admiral Buckner has deposed, that he has often held
conversation with me and the persons who were called delegates, and that
my behaviour to him was sometimes respectful and sometimes otherwise. I
never waited upon the admiral but by the order of the delegates, and
pursuant to the instructions which I received from them. I never sported
with the feelings of the admiral, but couched the representations I had
to make in as respectful terms as I possibly could. It may be asked how
I came to be the person fixed upon on these occasions? I was chosen by
the delegates, for that purpose, and I could not resist their commands.
I declare solemnly that I knew nothing of the mutiny till it had broke
out in the fleet. In about two days afterwards I perceived that a bad
spirit was prevalent among the men, and I then entered into it for the
purpose of checking, as well as I could, the violence of their
proceedings, and I am satisfied that, if I had not taken an active part
in the business, though it has terminated so unfortunately, it would
have terminated with consequences still more dreadful; and, conscious of
the purity of my intentions, I can wait the decision of this honourable
court with calmness. Vice-Admiral Buckner says that, on the 20th of May,
when he went on board the _Sandwich_, he was not received with the
proper respect due to his rank; but I am sure the admiral does not
attribute that want of respect to me; for he states, in his evidence,
that I did not go on board till after him; and upon this part of the
charge I have no doubt of being able to satisfy the court of my
innocence, because he states that as soon as I came on board I
apologised to him for the disrespect which had been shown him, and told
him that if he would accept of it, there should be three cheers, and the
yards manned. The admiral acknowledges this. There was a stir made
towards cheering him, and this was done at the risk of my life. Some
evil-disposed persons in the fleet had infused an idea into the minds of
the men that the admiral was not competent to decide upon their
grievances, and also the people on board the _Inflexible_ had sent us
word that if we offered to cheer the admiral, they would come alongside
the _Sandwich_ and sink her. On the same day Captain Moss sent Mr. Bray,
the master of the _Sandwich_, to know the reason why the _Inflexible_
had beat to quarters? When the persons sent got on board the
_Inflexible_, they found the tompions taken out of the guns, and the
matches lighted ready for action. There were meetings of the committee
on board the _Inflexible_, to overawe the general meeting of the
delegates, and these meetings were held daily on board that ship; and
notwithstanding the stigma which has been thrown upon the _Sandwich_,
the whole of the measures that were adopted originated on board the
_Inflexible_. After a consultation among the ship’s companies, I was
directed to present the paper, containing the list of grievances, to
Admiral Buckner, and everything I did was by their orders. After the
paper had been presented to the admiral, he proceeded to Sheerness. I
saw that Admiral Buckner’s flag was struck, but I did not know the
reason of it; and it was with the utmost concern that I saw the red flag
flying in its place. There were many signals given that day by the
_Inflexible_ which I did not understand. With respect to what the
admiral has said of my taking away two marines, I must state to the
court that it is true. I was that day on shore, at the commissioner’s
house, and went there by order of the persons calling themselves
delegates. While they were refreshing themselves on shore with the usual
allowance of a pint of beer each man, information was brought them that
two marines had been taken up, and were then in confinement, for
approving the proceedings of the sailors. They ordered me and some
others to go to the guard-house, and inquire into the reason of their
being in custody. When we got to the guard-house we were informed by the
sentinel that he had no such persons in his custody. We then heard that
the marines were at the commissioner’s house. We were then ordered by
the delegates to go there, and bring them on board. We informed the
admiral of the commands we had received; and he told us the marines had
been taken up for having used improper language in the neighbourhood of
Queenborough. I was desired by those who accompanied me to examine them.
I did examine one of them; the other was very much intoxicated. While I
was examining him the admiral said, “Now, Parker, you are at the right
point—your questions are very proper.” When the examination was
finished, they were sent on board the _Sandwich_, and put into
confinement, and the next day they were sent to their respective ships,
and I knew no more about them. I submit it to the judgment of the court
whether it is probable that four men, unarmed, could forcibly take these
men away in the face of a garrison? But throughout the whole of the
business I treated Admiral Buckner with as much respect as the nature of
the transaction in which I was employed would admit. I must here state
that there was a conversation improperly represented. The admiral said
to me, “Parker, consider my feelings.” I replied to him, “Sir, it gives
me great pain to see the red flag flying in place of yours. I had
nothing to do with it,—I have my feelings as well as another man; but I
am but an individual.” Throughout the whole of this business I wish to
acknowledge that Admiral Buckner and Commissioner Hartwell were
indefatigable in their endeavours to satisfy the minds of the sailors.

“Lieutenant Justice, of the _Sandwich_, was the second witness that was
called. He knew nothing personal about me. Captain O’Bryen, of the
_Nassau_, knew nothing about me. Captain Fancourt, of the _Agamemnon_,
knew nothing personal about me. Captain Cobb, of the _Lion_, knew
nothing of me. Captain Parr of the _Standard_, knew nothing personal of
me. Captain Watson, of the _Isis_, and Captain Hargood, of the
_Leopold_, knew nothing personal concerning me; and therefore, I have no
observations to make upon their evidence. The next witness called was
Mr. Snipe, surgeon of the _Sandwich_: He deposed, that on the 14th of
May he was ordered to attend on deck, to be present at the punishment of
a man of the name of Campbell, and that I ordered him to receive a dozen
lashes. I was then upon the gangway, and had been sent there by the
delegates to see the punishment executed. Mr. Bray, the master, who had
then the command of the ship, was consulted about the punishment. The
man had been convicted of getting beastly drunk, though he had said he
had drunk nothing but small beer. I was then desired to caution the
ship’s company not to get drunk till the business was settled; for if
they did, they would undergo the same punishment as this man, which was
what they had all agreed to inflict. With respect to his evidence about
the sick man in irons, he was confined for disrespect to Captain Moss;
and the answer which he states was given by me to him shows that he did
not wish to interfere in the medical department. He says, also, that he
was desired by me to use his influence with Admiral Buckner, that the
whole sick of the fleet should be permitted to go on shore. This shows
that we had a great regard for the sufferings of our fellow-creatures.
Doctor Snipe further says, that when he went on shore he promised to
return, but that he took good care not to do it till the ship was again
under the command of Captain Moss. I wish here to ask whether it was
praiseworthy and humane in the surgeon to leave the ship, when there
were so many people dangerously sick on board, merely because his
situation on board was not so comfortable as he could have wished?
Captain Surridge, of the _Iris_, says he saw me with the delegates at
the Commissioner’s house, in conversation with the admiral, and that I
delivered the articles from the North Sea fleet. I declare, in the most
solemn manner, that I had no conversation upon that occasion, but
desired the Commissioner to examine the delegates of that fleet, in
order to find out what would satisfy the minds of the men in that fleet.
He says he saw no disrespect in my behaviour to the admiral. Captain
Dickson of the _Espion’s_ evidence is answered by the observations I
made upon the evidence given by the Admiral. Captain Wood, of the
_Hound_, says that I told him not to be so violent with the delegates. I
went on board the ship to secure his safety, for he had threatened to
put the delegates to death. I desired the ship’s companies to be
attentive to their officers, and not to make any slight or unfounded
complaints of grievances. He says he was ordered out of his ship, and
that the person who communicated the orders to him said it was by my
direction. I declare solemnly, that I could safely assert, if I was
going into the presence of God to-night, that I gave no such order; and
that I did not know he was turned out of his ship, till I heard it
stated in evidence in court. With respect to what he says of my having
threatened to make beef-steak of the pilot at the yard-arm, for having
put us into a foul berth, I deny having used any such expression, or
that I ordered the anchor to be let go. With respect to the yard ropes,
they were rove before I got on board; but in the confusion that
necessarily prevailed, it was very easy for the captain to have mistaken
the time of these circumstances happening, and the identical person who
ordered them. Lieutenant Flat, of the _Sandwich_, said he did not know
me before the disturbance broke out on board that ship; but, as I shall
have occasion to ask that gentleman some more questions, I shall make no
observations upon his evidence at present. William Levingstone, the
boatswain of the _Director_, says: I was on board the _Director_ when
she fired on the _Repulse_ while she was on shore; that I asked for a
boat, with a flag of truce, to go on board that ship, in the hopes of
being able to save innocent blood, and that I valued not my life. He
says, also, that he heard me give the orders to fire, and that after it
had commenced he did not see me. Samuel Hallard, the carpenter of the
_Director_, says he saw me on board that ship, and heard me ask for the
boat, to prevent, if I could, innocent blood from being spilt; that he
heard the guns fired, but did not hear me give orders for it. The
evidence of both these witnesses applies to the same time and the same
facts; therefore my answer applies equally to both. In the first place
it is necessary for me to account for my being on board the _Director_
at that time: there was a request for our band of music to sail round
the different ships, and play three tunes—viz., “God save the King,”
“Rule Brittania,” and “Britons strike Home”—and also that we should show
the journal of our proceedings. I was directed by the delegates to
comply with these requests. While I was in the boat I was told that the
_Repulse_ was getting under weigh, and was advised to go on board the
_Sandwich_. When I got on board I was told that the _Director_ was
getting a spring upon her cable, in order to bring her broadside to bear
upon the _Repulse_. I was then ordered by the delegates to go on board
the _Director_; I went, and found the guns upon the quarterdeck loosed.
I then desired permission to address the ship’s company, and pointed out
to them the impropriety and cruelty of one brother firing upon another,
and asked for a boat and a flag of truce to endeavour to prevent the
consequences of such a measure. Finding myself refused, I determined to
find out to what extremities they were inclined to go, and therefore I
asked them if they would slip their cables and run alongside the
_Repulse_; I was extremely happy to find they would not do it, for I
proposed it merely to sound their intentions. I will now state to the
court my reason for asking for a flag of truce. As the wind was
favourable and the tide was rising I expected every minute to see the
_Repulse_ get afloat, and make for Sheerness harbour. I wished, if
possible, to get into her wake with the flag of truce to prevent her
being fired at; for I hoped the other ships would respect the flag of
truce, and not fire upon the _Repulse_ for fear of hurting her. I failed
in my endeavours, and was obliged to give way to the storm, and to
sanction measures which I abominated; and the orders I gave on that
occasion were extorted from me by compulsion. I remained in the
_Director_ till she ceased firing, in hopes of catching a favourable
moment for softening matters; it is clear, therefore, that Burry must
have mistaken some other person who might be at the gun with him, and
might have used such language, for I will prove that I was on the
_Director_ till the afternoon. Burry says that he saw me on board the
_Monmouth_ that day, and that I assisted in pointing and fitting the gun
at which he was six or seven times; and that I was not content with
firing a nine-pound shot, but that I put in a crowbar. He speaks of
being confined in different parts of the ship by a man called Captain
Vance; and that I shook my fist when the _Repulse_ was afloat, and said,
“D—n me, she is afloat;” and that I would send one of the outside ships
after the _Leopard_ and send her to hell. On asking him if he had
received any bribe or promise for giving this hellish account, he said
he had not. I went back to the _Sandwich_ in the _Ardent’s_ boat. John
Summerland does not recollect seeing me at any gun, or actively employed
with my clothes off; but he says that I said I would get an outside ship
and send her after the _Leopard_. In this particular both the witnesses
agree; but I will call witnesses to prove to the court that I was not on
board the _Monmouth_ while she was firing at the _Repulse_; and under
the general confusion that must have prevailed at such a moment, it
cannot be supposed that I had either leisure or inclination to go
looking for such Don Quixote-like adventures. I saw the _Monmouth_ very
active in firing upon the _Repulse_, and took the same measures with
that ship that I had done with the _Director_. If I said I would take an
outside ship and send her after the _Leopard_, it was with a view of
preventing the _Monmouth_ from quitting her station to attack the
_Repulse_, for I immediately went on board the _Sandwich_. Before the
_Sandwich_ was delivered up to her officers, the _Montague_ made a
signal for the delegates to assemble on board her; I did not go on
board; their proceedings were extremely violent. Having now closed the
remarks I had to make upon the evidence that has been given against me,
I have only a few words to address to the court, not to remind them that
where mercy can be shown it ought to be granted; but, assured from the
candid manner in which the court has proceeded that justice will be
done, I have only to ask that the evidence given by G. Burry may be
examined in the strictest manner. I ask this for the purpose of clearing
up my character, which is far dearer to me than a thousand lives; and
though it has been misrepresented in the public prints, I hope the
innocence of my intentions will appear. My country allows me justice;
and justice I am sure I shall have from this honourable court.”

The prisoner then proceeded to examine his own witnesses, who were—the
Right Hon. Lord Northesk, captain of the _Monmouth_; Captain John
Knight, of the _Montague_; Mr. J. Swanson, gunner; Matthew Hollister,
seaman of the _Director_; Thomas Burry, William Nobbs, and George
Nicholls, seamen of the _Monmouth_; Samuel Beer, of the _Monmouth_;
Matthew Hollister. Their evidence was but immaterial.

The evidence being closed, the President desired to know if there were
any other witnesses, as the court would willingly continue its sittings
to a late hour in order to get their testimony. The prisoner answered
that he had no more evidence to examine. He hoped the circumstance of
his giving up the command of the ship, and the other parts of his
conduct, would receive the most favourable construction. At half-past
one the court was cleared, and, at ten minutes before four, the prisoner
being called in, the Deputy Judge-Advocate read the sentence of the
court. After the commission under which the court sat had been read, it
stated that it had proceeded to try Richard Parker on the charge of
mutiny, disobedience of orders, and insolence to his officers; and that
the said Richard Parker had been heard in his defence. The court did
adjudge, that the whole of the said charge was fully proved, and that
the said Richard Parker was guilty of the said crimes which it
enumerated—crimes as unprecedented in their nature as wicked and
destructive in their consequences. The court did, therefore, adjudge
him, the said Richard Parker, to be hanged by the neck till he was dead;
and the said Richard Parker was ordered to suffer death accordingly.

_Prisoner_: “I shall submit to your sentence with all due respect, being
confident of the innocence of my intentions, and that God will receive
me into favour; and I sincerely hope that my death will be the means of
restoring tranquillity to the navy, and that those men who have been
implicated in the business may be reinstated in their former situations,
and again be serviceable to their country.”

_President_: “The court, in consideration of the repentance which is
necessary to expiate your heinous offences, is willing to grant you some
time for that purpose, and has not, therefore, ordered the sentence to
be put into immediate execution, but leaves it to the Admiralty to
appoint when and where you are to suffer.”

The prisoner bowed, and withdrew.

The behaviour of the unhappy man throughout the whole of his trial was
firm and manly, and, while he was before the court, decent and
respectful. During the trial the solicitor of the Admiralty received two
letters for Parker, in one of which, from his brother, was enclosed a
five-pound bank-note. They were delivered to him immediately in court.

The execution of Parker took place on the 30th June, 1797. On that day,
at eight in the morning, a gun was fired from his Majesty’s ship
_L’Espion_, lying off Sheerness garrison, Vice-Admiral Lutwidge’s
flag-ship; and the yellow flag, the signal of capital punishment, was
hoisted, which was immediately repeated by the _Sandwich_ hoisting the
same colour on her fore-top. The _Sandwich_ was stationed rather above
Blackstakes, the headmost ship of the fleet. The garrison was
immediately under arms on the gun firing, and proceeded in single files
along the south shore of the Medway, near to Queenborough, to be present
at the execution. All the gates were then shut, and each ship sent a
boat off, with a lieutenant and a party of marines, to attend the
_Sandwich_; and the crews of all were piped to the forecastle, and the
marines drawn up on the quarterdeck, to be witnesses of the execution.
The prisoner was awakened a little after six o’clock from a sound sleep
by the marshal-provost, who, with a file of marines, composed his guard.
He arose with cheerfulness, and requested permission might be asked for
a barber to attend him, which was granted him. He soon dressed himself
in a neat suit of mourning (waistcoat excepted) wearing his half-boots
over a pair of black silk stockings. He then took his breakfast, talked
of a will he had written—in which he bequeathed to his wife a little
estate he said he was heir to—and after that lamented the misfortunes
that had been brought on the country by the mutiny, but solemnly denied
having the least connection or correspondence with any disaffected
persons on shore; and declared that it was chiefly owing to him that the
ships were not carried into the enemy’s ports. On his coming on deck he
looked a little paler than common, but soon recovered his usual
complexion. The chaplain told him that he had selected two appropriate
psalms; to which the prisoner desired to add the 51st, and then recited
each alternate verse in a manner peculiarly impressive. He heard the
preparatory gun fired, at nine, without the smallest emotion; and
prayers being ended, he rose, and asked Captain Moss if he might be
indulged with a glass of white wine, which being immediately granted, he
took it, and lifting up his eyes, exclaimed, “I drink first to the
salvation of my soul! and next to the forgiveness of all my enemies!”
Addressing himself to Captain Moss, he said “he hoped he would shake
hands with him,” which the captain did. He then desired “that he might
be remembered to his companions on board the _Neptune_, with his last
breath entreating them to prepare for their destiny, and to refrain from
unbecoming levity.” His arms being now bound, the procession moved to a
platform erected on the cat-head, with an elevated projection. There
Parker knelt with the chaplain, and joined in some devout ejaculations,
to all which he repeated loudly, “Amen.” He now asked the captain
“whether he might be allowed to speak,” and immediately, apprehending
his intention might be misconceived, he added, “I am not going, sir, to
address the ship’s company; I wish only to declare that I acknowledge
the justice of the sentence under which I suffer, and I hope my death
may be deemed a sufficient atonement, and may save the lives of others.”
He now requested a minute to collect himself, and knelt down alone for
that space of time; then rising up, said, “I am ready,” and, holding his
head up with considerable dignity, said to the boatswain’s mate, “take
off my handkerchief” (of black silk); which being done, the
provost-marshal placed the halter over his head (which had been prepared
with grease), but, doing it awkwardly, the prisoner said rather
pettishly to the boatswain’s mate, “Do you do it, for he seems to know
nothing about it.” The halter was then spliced to the reeved rope. All
this being adjusted, the provost attempted to put a cap on, which he
refused; but on being told it was indispensable, he submitted,
requesting that it might not be pulled over his eyes till he desired it.
He then turned round for the first time, gave a steady look at his
shipmates on the forecastle, and, with an affectionate smile, nodded his
head, and said, “Good bye to you.” He now said, “Captain Moss, is the
gun primed?” “It is.” “Is the match alight?” “All is ready.” On this he
advanced a little and said, “Will any gentleman be so good as to lend me
a white handkerchief for a signal?” After some little pause, a gentleman
stepped forward and gave him one; to whom, bowing, he returned his
thanks. He now ascended the platform, repeated the same question about
the gun, evidently to gain the time he wished, for the perfect
completion of what he had preconcerted in his own mind; then, the cap
being drawn over his face, walking by firm degrees up to the extremity
of the scaffold, he dropped the handkerchief, put his hands in his
coat-pockets with great rapidity, and at the moment he was springing
off, the fatal bow gun fired, and the reeve rope catching him ran him
up, though not with great velocity, to the yard-arm. When suspended
about midway, his body appeared extremely convulsed for a few seconds,
immediately after which no appearance of life remained. The instant he
was visible to the garrison from the yard-arm, the telegraph was put in
motion to announce it to the Admiralty, and from the clearness of the
atmosphere and quickness of working, the advice must have been received
in seven minutes. He suffered exactly at half-past nine, and was lowered
down after hanging at the yard-arm a full hour; when the yellow flag was
struck, and his body instantly put into a shell that had been prepared
for it, with all his clothes on; and soon after it was taken in one of
the _Sandwich’s_ boats, and rowed to the east point of the garrison, and
there being landed was carried to the new naval burying-ground at
Sheerness, out of the Red Barrier Gate, leading to Minster; the
coffin-lid was here taken off in the presence of the spectators for a
few minutes. His countenance appeared not much altered, but his eyes
were wide open. He was interred exactly at noon. The whole conduct of
this awful ceremony was extremely impressive. It was evident, from the
countenance of the crew of the _Sandwich_, that the general feeling for
the fate of their mutinous conductor was such as might be wished; not a
word, and scarcely a whisper, was heard.

Parker’s body was not allowed to rest in the naval burying-ground, in
consequence of an affecting incident. His wife, it seems, was in
Scotland when the Nore mutiny broke out, and on hearing that her husband
was the ringleader, she hastened to London to endeavour to dissuade him
from pursuing his guilty career. She arrived too late; Parker was tried
and condemned; and she only reached Sheerness in time to witness his
execution from a boat which approached the _Sandwich_ as near as it was
permitted. She saw her husband appear on deck between two clergymen. She
called on him, and he heard her voice, for he exclaimed, “There is my
dear wife from Scotland.” Immediately afterwards she fell back in a
state of insensibility, and did not recover till some time after she was
taken ashore. She was excited almost to madness by the information that
the surgeons would probably disinter the body that night. She therefore
resolved on the following plan:—She hung about the churchyard till dusk,
and then she contrived with some friends to scale the churchyard wall,
and went to her husband’s grave. She there had the coffin dug up, and
the lid removed, and after clasping the cold hand of Parker, she got
several men to undertake the task of lifting the body. This was
accomplished successfully, and at three o’clock in the morning, the
shell containing the corpse was placed in a van and taken to Rochester,
where, for the sum of six guineas, Mrs. Parker procured another waggon
to carry it to London. On the road they met hundreds of persons all
inquiring about and talking of the fate of “Admiral Parker,” as the
common people called him. At eleven P.M. the van reached London; here
the widow stopped at the Hoop and Horse Shoe, on Tower hill, which was
full of people. A great crowd by-and-by assembled about the house,
anxious to see the body of Parker. The Lord Mayor heard of the affair,
and came and asked the widow what she intended to do with her husband’s
remains. She replied, “To inter them decently at Exeter or in Scotland.”
The Lord Mayor said the body would not be taken from her, but prevailed
upon her to have it decently buried in London. Arrangements were made
with this view, and finally the corpse of Parker was inhumed in
Whitechapel churchyard, although not until it had to be removed to
Aldgate workhouse, on account of the crowds attracted by it, which
caused some fears lest “Admiral” Parker’s remains should create a public
commotion.

The _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for 1797 thus records this singular affair:—

“The body of Parker, the mutineer, which was taken out of the new naval
burying-ground at Sheerness, was brought to the Hoop and Horse Shoe
public-house, Queen-street, Little Tower-hill, on Saturday evening. So
large a concourse of persons assembled before the house next day, that a
party of constables were stationed there, in order to keep the mob from
breaking into the house; and the corpse was removed in the afternoon to
the workhouse, in Nightingale-lane, by order of the parish officers.
Mrs. Parker was taken before the sitting magistrates in Lambert-street,
and examined touching the object of her taking up the body. Her answer
was, ‘For the purpose of a more decent interment.’ It was buried this
morning early in the vaults of Whitechapel church.”

Mrs. Parker long survived her husband, and latterly fell into distress;
and among other relief received by her was at one time £10, and at
another £20, from King William IV.

In the year 1797 lay in his death-illness the master spirit of that
political period, the Right Hon. Edmund Burke, who, heart-broken at the
loss of his only son, took no further interest in the concerns of
private life, but devoted his whole mind to the state of public affairs.
Amid the startling and depressing news of Napoleon’s triumphant campaign
in Italy, the victory of St. Vincent somewhat revived Burke’s spirits,
but then these naval mutinies came to sadden him again—to sadden but not
to subdue him. The ministry of the day sought counsel and courage from
the dying man’s energy. One of the conferences of Government with him is
thus referred to in an able biography of Wilberforce:—“During the awful
crisis of the mutiny, he (Wilberforce) saw the last gleams of (take him
for all in all) the greatest luminary of the eighteenth century.”
Wilberforce, in his own diary, says:—“Monday, April 17.—Heard of
Portsmouth mutiny; consultation with Burke ... The whole scene is now
before me. Burke was lying on a sofa much emaciated, and Windham,
Laurence, and some other friends were around him. The attention shown to
Burke by that party was just like the treatment of Ahithopel of old; it
was as if one went to inquire of the oracle of the Lord.”

In one of his last letters, dated May 12, 1797, Burke thus refers to the
mutiny at the Nore:—“The times are so deplorable that I do not know how
to write about them. Indeed, I can hardly bear to think of them. In the
selection of these mischiefs ... are those of the navy and those of
Ireland.... As to the first, ... I trust in God that these mutineers may
not, as yet, have imbrued their hands deeply in blood. If they have, we
must expect the worst that can happen.”

Burke’s spirit revolted at what he thought he perceived—viz., that the
mutiny at home and the French abroad were making the British Government
lose courage. A short time before his decease he used these remarkable
words: “Never succumb to these difficulties. It is a struggle for your
existence as a nation, and if you must die, die with the sword in your
hand. But I have no fears whatever for the result. There is a salient
living principle of energy in the public mind of England which only
requires proper direction to enable her to withstand this or any other
impending danger.” Burke spoke with the foresight of a prophet; the
mutiny subsided even before he breathed his last, and, not long after,
naval successes restored public confidence. Justice was satisfied by the
execution of Parker and a few other executions, and by some minor
punishments. The British navy soon showed that it possessed its “living
principle of energy.” The sailors speedily redeemed themselves, and
wiped away the recent stigma with victory upon victory. The battle of
Camperdown was won in the October of this same 1797. King George III.,
on the 30th of that October, visited the fleet, and the victor of
Camperdown, Admiral Lord Duncan, at the Nore, and the royal clemency was
extended generally to such mutineers as still remained under sentence.
The following year the Nile was won. These triumphs were “happy
prologues to the swelling act of the imperial theme”—Trafalgar. Yet
while, through the halo of these glories, we look, less angrily, back to
the sad insubordination that preceded them, we may offer up a fervent
prayer that, for the honour and vitality of our navy, no such outbreak
may ever occur again as the mutiny at the Nore.




                      THE TRIAL OF GOVERNOR WALL.


Joseph Wall, the unfortunate subject of the following trial, was the
scion of a very respectable Irish family, and was the eldest son of
Garrett Wall, Esq., of Derryknavin. He was born in 1737, and entered the
British army at an early age. He was a brave and honourable man, but of
a severe and rather unaccommodating temper, and was not popular among
the officers and men, though he rapidly advanced in his profession,
having obtained early promotion for the gallantry he displayed at the
reduction of the Havannah in 1762. It was while Lieut.-Colonel and
Governor and Commandant of Goree, an island on the coast of Africa, that
he committed the offence which brought him to the scaffold—viz., the
murder of one Benjamin Armstrong, by ordering him to receive eight
hundred lashes on the 10th July, 1782, of which he died in five days
afterwards. Wall’s emoluments were, at the time, very considerable, as,
besides his military appointments, he was Superintendent of Trade to the
colony. His family was Roman Catholic, but, according to the exigency of
the then penal laws, he had to conform to Protestantism, to enable him
to hold his commission.

Some time after the account of the murder of Armstrong reached the Board
of Admiralty, a reward was offered for Wall’s apprehension, who had come
to England, and he was taken. He, however, contrived to escape while in
custody at Reading, and fled to the Continent, and sojourned there,
sometimes in France and sometimes in Italy; but mostly in France, under
an assumed name, where he lived respectably and was admitted into good
society. He particularly kept company with the officers of his own
country who served in the French army, and was well known at the Scotch
and Irish colleges in Paris. He now and then incautiously ventured into
England and Scotland. While thus, at one time in Scotland, he made a
high match. He wedded a scion of the great line of Kintail—viz.,
Frances, fifth daughter (by his wife, Lady Mary Stewart, daughter of
Alexander, sixth Earl of Galloway) of Kenneth MacKenzie, Lord Fortrose,
M.P., and sister of Kenneth, last Earl of Seaforth. Wall came finally to
England in 1797. He was frequently advised by the friend who then
procured him a lodging to leave the country again, and questioned as to
his motive for remaining; he never gave any satisfactory answer, but
appeared, even at the time when he was so studiously concealing himself,
to have a distant intention of making a surrender, in order to take his
trial. It is very evident his mind was not at ease, and that he was
incapable of any firm resolution either one way or the other. Even the
manner in which he did at last surrender himself showed a singular want
of determination, as he left it to chance whether the Minister should
send for him or not; for rather than go and deliver himself up, he wrote
to say “he was ready to do so”—a less becoming, but not a less dangerous
mode of encountering danger. His high-born wife showed him throughout
his troubles the greatest devotion: she was with him in Upper Thornhaugh
Street, Bedford Square, where he lived under the name of Thompson when
he was apprehended. It is most probable that, had he not written to the
Secretary of State, the matter had been so long forgotten, that he would
never have been molested; but once he was in the hands of the law, the
Government had but one obvious course, which was to bring him to trial.
This was accordingly done, and the judicial investigation took place, at
the Old Bailey on the 20th January, 1802. The judges who presided
were—The Right Hon. Sir Archibald MacDonald, Lord Chief Baron of the
Exchequer; the Hon. Sir Soulden Lawrence, one of the justices of the
Court of King’s Bench; and the Hon. Sir Giles Rooke, one of the justices
of the Court of Common Pleas.

The counsel for the Crown were the Attorney-General, Sir Edward Law
(afterwards Lord Ellenborough and Lord Chief Justice of the Court of
King’s Bench); the Solicitor-General, the Hon. Spencer Percival
(afterwards First Lord of the Treasury, and, while so, assassinated by
Bellingham); Mr. Wood (afterwards Sir George Wood and a baron of the
Exchequer); Mr. Plumer (afterwards Sir Thomas Plumer, and successively
Vice-Chancellor of England and Master of the Rolls); Mr. William
Fielding (afterwards a metropolitan police-magistrate, son of Henry
Fielding, the novelist); and Mr. Abbott (afterwards Lord Chief Justice
of the Court of King’s Bench and Lord Tenterden).

The counsel for the defence were Mr. Knowlys (afterwards Recorder of
London), Mr. Gurney (afterwards Sir John Gurney, a baron of the
Exchequer), and Mr. Alley.

The indictment was opened by Mr. Abbott; and while he was stating the
charge, the prisoner from the dock said to the Chief Baron, “My lord, I
cannot hear in this place; I hope your lordship will permit me to sit
near my counsel.” In which the Chief Baron replied, “It is perfectly
impossible; there is a regular place appointed by law—I can make no
invidious distinctions.”

The Attorney-General stated the case for the prosecution in a remarkably
able and lucid speech, which so fully details the whole horrible affair,
that I cannot do better than give the greater portion of it. After a few
preliminary remarks on the nature of the crime, the Attorney-General’s
address proceeded as follows:—

“Gentlemen of the jury,—The crime imputed to the prisoner I have stated
to you to be murder; the prisoner is charged, upon the present
indictment, with the murder of a person of the name of Benjamin
Armstrong, who was a soldier and serjeant in the garrison at Goree, of
which the prisoner at the bar was, at the time of Armstrong’s death, the
commander and governor. The circumstances that led to the punishment
which was the cause of the death of this person it will be for me
presently to state to you; and it will be for me, after I have so done,
to discuss in some manner that which is the probable, and which is not
only the probable, but which, from circumstances antecedent, I know to
be the actual, ground of defence which the prisoner will rely upon
before you for his deliverance this day.

“Gentlemen, Mr. Wall was, in the year 1782, commandant of the garrison
of Goree, which is an island upon the coast of Africa; he had under him
in command there a Captain Lacy, who afterwards succeeded him in the
command of that garrison; he had under him, likewise, a Lieutenant Fall,
a Lieutenant O’Shanley, an Ensign Ford, and Ensign Deering; these, with
Major Phipps, an officer of artillery, were, I believe, all the military
officers then at the place—at least, it does not occur to me, at
present, to mention any other military officer as then being there.

“The circumstances of the case now before us, you will recollect, arose
in the year 1782; the 10th of July, 1782, is the time when that death
was occasioned which is imputed to the prisoner at the bar as murder.
The prisoner returned to this country in the month of August, 1782; he
was apprehended for this offence in the month of March, 1784, under a
warrant from the Privy Council. You will bear in mind, gentlemen, that
most of the persons who, in respect to their local and official
situations, were the most material witnesses to establish his
innocence—if innocent he be—were living, and within the reach of process
from the criminal courts of this country, and might have been then
brought forward to establish his vindication, if, by such evidence, he
felt that he could have been vindicated from the charge now under your
consideration.

“In the year 1782, this gentleman had a garrison under his command, as I
have stated, in which there were the several officers whose names and
whose commissions I have already mentioned; I believe the whole military
force under his command consisted of at least 140 or 150 men. The
garrison had been, for some time prior to the period at which he
announced, in public orders, that he was about to depart from the
garrison (and which departure was so announced as immediately about to
take place on the 11th of July), put under short allowance in point of
provisions. That measure was, I presume, adopted from fair and proper
reasons of prudence and probable necessity. The men who had been put
under such short allowance, and who were thus restricted in point of
supply, in the articles of usual and necessary consumption, with a view
to general convenience and the eventual safety of the garrison, and in
order merely that the existing stock of provisions might last out till a
farther supply might arrive, were at all times very properly allowed
some compensation of a pecuniary kind, on account of their reduced
allowance in point of actual provisions. The gentleman at the bar had
announced his departure, as I stated before, for the 11th of July; there
was also about to depart, at the same time, with him for England, the
ensign of the name of Deering, the paymaster of the garrison. In the
hands of that person were, of course, these stoppages, and these
stoppages were usually commuted with the men, and compensation made to
them on account thereof, either in money or in that which was, for the
purpose of supplying their immediate necessities, equivalent to
money—that is to say, articles of convenient barter and truck at that
place. When Ensign Deering, the paymaster, upon whom the garrison had
demands for their short provisions, was so about to depart, the garrison
was, of course, anxious that their account with him might be settled;
and as the period of his departure drew so near, it will be given you in
evidence that a considerable number of the soldiers who had demands of
this kind had resorted to the house where the paymaster lived, in order
to obtain the payment of them. For what reason Governor Wall mixed
himself in the consideration of these short allowances—what personal
reasons he might have to interpose himself between these men and the
application for a settlement and adjustment of the claims made by them
on this account, I am not apprised—at least, I shall not suggest any to
you. The application was made, as I have stated, by those persons in
considerable numbers; they resorted to the house of Mr. Deering, and
were desirous of having satisfaction for their pay before he should
leave the island, which was to be on the day following. After that
period a vast ocean would separate them from their debtor; and,
considering the precariousness of human life, and particularly in that
unhealthy settlement, if they did not press their demand at that period,
it is possible they might not be in a situation afterwards to urge it
with any beneficial effect to themselves.

“Upon their coming in a considerable number, as you will have it in
evidence, towards the house of the paymaster, and when, in doing so,
they passed by the governor’s house (who lived in the way to the
paymaster’s), and were going on to the paymaster’s, it appears that
Governor Wall came out, and with language of some anger reprehended the
men for resorting to the house of the paymaster upon this occasion, and
ordered them, with some menaces of punishment, to go away; the men, as
it is stated to me, and as I shall lay it before you in evidence,
retired dutifully upon this admonition. About an hour and a-half
afterwards, several persons came; whether they were the same who came
before I know not, but one of them was the deceased Armstrong, whose
death, and the causes of whose death, are alone now in question before
you,—I say alone, for I would wish and desire you to lay out of your
consideration any circumstances which point at the supposed death of any
person. If you happened to be in court, and heard any indictments read,
upon any former occasion, which were applicable to the deaths of any
other persons, I request you to lay that matter wholly out of your
attention; for we are to confine our attention merely to the
circumstances and cause of the death of Armstrong, and no other
circumstances will be gone into but such as are immediately connected,
in point of fact, with the death of that person. If, indeed, subsequent
transactions connecting and inseparably mixing themselves with matters
which respect the deaths of other persons should necessarily, in point
of fact, make a part of our proof in respect to the charge now before
you, these facts are not shut out from us, in point of legal use and
application, because they may conduct to, or in themselves make a part
of, the proof of any other substantive crime conjointly with the
present: but no substantive crime, except the one charged in the
indictment, and which you are sworn to try, can come immediately and
properly under your consideration for the purpose of affecting the
prisoner upon this occasion.

“Gentlemen, I have stated the appearance of the soldiers upon their
first application. Upon a second application to the paymaster for their
pay, Armstrong (the deceased) appeared with the persons who were making
that application. Governor Wall came out to them again from his house,
and I do not think that, upon this occasion, he used the language of
menace which he did before, but he spoke to the deceased Armstrong; and
Armstrong, as it will be given you in evidence, by a person who had the
best means of knowing and seeing all that passed, being the orderly
serjeant immediately attendant upon the person of the governor the whole
of that day, this person of the name of Armstrong, so far from behaving
in any undutiful and disrespectful manner, or from manifesting any
disregard to the command of his lawful superior, pulled off his hat, and
bowed with all proper deference to him; and then, without entering into
any contest as to the right to make the application they were about to
make, having merely stated that they came there in order to settle with
the paymaster, upon receiving an intimation from the governor that what
they were doing ought not to be done, he respectfully retired; and from
that period (if there be truth in the evidence I have to lay before you)
till the period of the punishment which was afterwards on that day
inflicted upon Armstrong, and which punishment is charged to have been
the cause of his death, there did not exist in the place the least
symptom of tumult, discontent, riot, disorder, or anything that bore the
appearance of mutiny, or disobedience to the lawful commands of a
military superior....

“The application for pay was made in the morning by the soldiers to the
paymaster, who was about to depart; there was an interval, respecting
which it will certainly be incumbent upon Governor Wall to give some
account in evidence, and to show that it did not entirely pass in
tranquillity and quiet. Why, if there was anything that required
investigation, was it not filled up and occupied, as far as it might be,
by some forms of trial? Upon this subject there is an entire silence. We
hear nothing with respect to these men, or to any transaction in the
island in which Governor Wall is concerned, till the evening or towards
the evening of that day. Somewhere towards six o’clock, I think, it will
be in evidence that the drum beat what they called ‘the long roll,’
which was for calling the soldiers upon the parade. The orderly serjeant
who attended Governor Wall will state to you that this was beat by
Governor Wall’s direction; the men who immediately attended were ordered
to fall into their ranks as they were, unarmed; several in their
jackets, as they happened to be, without waiting for that preparation in
point of dress which would have fitted them for their ordinary
appearance upon the parade upon any other occasion; they were then
ordered to form a circle upon the parade, Captain Lacy, Lieutenant Fall,
Ensign Ford, and Lieutenant O’Shanley being present. The circle being
formed, the witnesses will state that some conversation passed, in their
presence, between the officers, there being, I think, at the same time,
brought forward upon the parade a gun-carriage, and persons attending to
perform the office which was presently afterwards performed by them.

“After a short communication (a few words only having passed) between
the governor and the officers assembled there, whom I have already
mentioned, this man, Armstrong, was ordered by Governor Wall to be
stripped. He was accordingly stripped, and was then tied to the
gun-carriage; black men came forward—not the persons who usually apply
military punishment, but black men came forward—and began to inflict the
punishment which was ordered; they changed about, each took his turn;
each, I think, inflicting twenty-five lashes, till the number of eight
hundred lashes had been completely inflicted upon the body of this
unfortunate person. Punishments of this sort are usually inflicted by
drummers or other soldiers of the regiment. It was in this instance, you
observe, inflicted by black men ordered to attend there for that
purpose; and this punishment was not inflicted with the usual instrument
with which military punishments are inflicted, which is a
cat-o’-nine-tails, formed, as I understand, of a log line of about
one-eighth of an inch in thickness, but with a rope of one inch in
diameter; one of the very ropes used on the occasion, or one at least
exactly resembling it, but I believe one of the ropes themselves (and
from circumstances I have little reason to doubt its identity), will be
exhibited to you in evidence. During the time of inflicting this
punishment, I am instructed it will be proved to you that Governor Wall
urged these black men to the performance of their task in language which
it will be enough for you to hear once from the mouths of the witnesses;
very harsh expressions are stated to have been used by him, some of
which I would gladly be spared the mention of, that he several times
called out “Cut him to the heart! Cut him to the liver!” that Armstrong
begged for mercy, and that Governor Wall then said that the sickly
season was coming on and that this punishment would do for him. That
after receiving a great number of lashes Armstrong was conducted to the
hospital; that he was in a situation which made it probable that his
death would be the consequence of what he had suffered. Accordingly, at
periods some time subsequent, you will hear that he made declaration,
which, if they appear to be (and which will be a question for the
judgment of their lordships) declarations made under the expectation and
belief of an immediately impending dissolution, and with that solemn
consciousness of duty which belongs to that awful situation, a situation
which places the mind under sanctions at least tantamount in point of
obligation to tell the truth, to what are impressed upon it by the
solemnity of a judicial oath; you will in that case hear, as proceeding
from this man, a declaration that he expected his death, and that he had
been punished without any form of trial, and without having committed
any offence whatever; this evidence, under the circumstances I have
supposed, will be undoubtedly competent, and if it comes under those
views, I shall be able to lay it before you.

“After this punishment had been inflicted upon Armstrong—I will not,
however, travel into circumstances which relate to any other person; I
close the business of the punishment, as far as respects Governor Wall,
here. On the next day, as he had announced his intention to do, Governor
Wall, together with Ensign Deering, the paymaster, an officer who is not
now living, and Major Phipps, took his departure for England.

“There may be circumstances—it will be for Governor Wall to show that
such circumstances existed—which may constitute a sufficient, adequate,
and full defence for a military officer in the infliction of punishment
without either a general or a regimental court-martial; for if there be
that degree of imminent necessity which supersedes the recourse to any
ordinary tribunal, if there be actually existing that flagrant mutiny
which must either be suppressed by force, and by the immediate though
irregular application of severe punishment, or must be left to rage
uncontrolled at the utmost peril of public safety, that which I was just
now pronouncing to be irregular becomes, if the more regular and
appropriate course of proceeding in such cases cannot be resorted to,
itself regular and capable of being justified upon every principle of
public duty; for it imports the public safety that the means of
resisting an enormous and over-bearing evil should be as strong, sudden,
and capable of application as the evil itself is capable of immediate
mischievous effect, and if this has been the case here it will carry its
own justification with it.

“Gentlemen, upon this occasion, therefore, it will be most important for
the prisoner to establish that there existed, in point of fact, a
mutiny. When he has established in point of fact (if he can do so) that
there existed a mutiny, if he can go farther and show that the ordinary
modes of trial could not be resorted to, and that upon conference with
the officers, that which on the emergency was thought best to be done
was done, and that there was no wanton abuse of power in the infliction
of punishment, the prisoner will be entitled to go quit of the charge
made upon him by this indictment. But if, instead of that, it should
appear to you that there existed no crime in the deceased, that there
was, in fact, no trial of him, where trial might have been had if crime
had existed; if it shall appear to you that there was not only neither
crime nor trial, but that, in addition to the absence of both crime and
trial, there was much malignity of motive influencing the conduct of
this gentleman to impute crime and to deny trial to this unhappy
sufferer, I am afraid the contrary of that conclusion to which I was
just now leading you must, in the proper discharge of your duty, become
to....

“If the prisoner can make out such a defence, if he can make out
substantially the crime of mutiny, I should be sorry to press him with
the non-observance of any of the minor forms of trial, that is,
supposing that there existed the crime of mutiny, and that the crime was
announced to the party charged therewith, and that he had any
opportunity for his defence against it. But if there existed no crime,
if none was charged at the time, if a silence is observed by the
prisoner respecting the existence of any such crime at the time when,
upon his return, he should have announced both it and the rigorous
measures he had been obliged to adopt thereupon, to those to whom he was
immediately accountable for the conduct of his government; if you find,
in contradiction to the idea of any supposed mutiny, that he ventured to
withdraw himself from his government at a moment when it would have been
in violation of every duty which he owed his Majesty’s service as a
soldier and an officer so to have done, if a mutiny so dangerous as to
supersede the necessary forms of law had existed on the very eve of his
departure, and might be supposed not to have been even then fully
suppressed, he will, in that case, have a difficult task of defence
thrown upon him. If, however, he can, upon the whole, give reasonable
evidence of delinquency on the part of the person upon whom this
punishment was executed, and a reasonable degree of necessity for
executing it at the time and in the manner and way in which it was
executed, God forbid, not only for his own sake, but for the sake of the
discipline of the army and for the safety of us all, which in some
degree depends upon the due enforcement of order and obedience in every
department of public service, God forbid that a hair of his head should
be touched. But if, after all, the charge of mutiny shall evidently
appear to you to be but a pretence brought forward to cover a malicious
and unauthorised act on his part at the time when it was done; and if,
from all the concomitant circumstances, if, from circumstances
immediately consequent upon the act at the time of his return—if, from
his flight shortly after that period, and his not proceeding to trial
when the witnesses, who he would have you to believe could have spoken
immediately and effectually to his justification, were living and
capable of being produced—if from these and other circumstances your
minds shall be induced to form a conclusion wholly adverse to the
prisoner; and if the facts shall fairly warrant you in so doing, however
painful the result may be to the prisoner at the bar, his relatives, and
friends; however painful the steps which lead to such result may be to
the feelings of those who are now urging the demands of public justice
against him; however painful it may be, more especially to you,
gentlemen, upon whose verdict, as a jury of the country, that result
will immediately depend—it is still my duty to ask, and your duty to
give, that verdict which the facts of the case, and the due application
of the law of the country to such facts may require, and to find him
guilty of the crime charged upon him, if, in the conscientious discharge
of the solemn function cast upon you, you are warranted and required so
to do. It will give me great satisfaction if he is able to establish
that there existed in this case such circumstances as will make the
crime with which he is charged not entitled to be denominated and
considered as murder.”

The evidence adduced (of which I need only give some material points)
bore out faithfully this opening statement of the Attorney-General, and
was in nowise shaken by the able and severe cross-examination of the
counsel for the defence.

Evan Lewis, the first witness called, stated that he was the
orderly-sergeant at Goree on the 10th July, and that the men in their
application behaved peaceably. He thus described the actual flogging of
Armstrong:—

Were any orders given them when they came upon the parade?—_Lewis_: They
were ordered to form into a circle.

Who ordered them?—I do not know whether it was Governor Wall that gave
the order, or one of the officers. Governor Wall was there.

I think you said Captain Lacy was there?—He was.

Do you remember the names of any other officers that were there?—Mr.
Ford was there, I believe, and Lieut. Fall and Lieut. O’Shanley were
there also; I believe they were there before the end of the business; I
do not know whether they were there at the beginning.

Did they form any part of the circle?—They were in the middle of it.

What size was the circle?—It was but small; there were not three hundred
men there.

Was it formed one or two deep?—To the best of my recollection, two deep.

Do you know what the number of the whole garrison was at that time?—I
believe not three hundred; I am almost sure it was not.

What situation were you in?—Close to the circle on the outside.

Where was the governor?—He was inside.

Were you near enough, were you in such a situation that you could hear
what was passing within the circle?—I was; I heard some words that
passed.

Could you see what passed?—Yes, very well; I was leaning rather between
the men, with my head over, to listen and see.

What did you observe to pass within the circle when it was formed?—There
was a carriage of a six-pounder brought in, I believe, just after the
circle was formed.

Do you know who brought it in?—There were some blacks there, I saw, but
I do not know whether it was they that brought it in or not.

Did you observe anything pass between the officers?—I saw the governor
speak to the rest of the officers, but what they said I do not
recollect.

Was the gun-carriage brought in before you observed the governor
speaking to the officers, or after?—I cannot pretend to say.

Did you hear the governor say anything that you do recollect?—Not to the
officers.

To any one else did you hear him speak?—Yes, I heard him call Benjamin
Armstrong out of the ranks.

Where was Armstrong at that time?—Among the rest of the men in the
circle, in his proper place.

Did he come out?—He did.

What happened when he came out?—He was ordered to strip by Governor
Wall, and was tied up to the carriage of the cannon, and Governor Wall
ordered him to be flogged, and he was flogged by black men.

Were more than one person employed in it?—There were five or six, to the
best of my recollection; I believe six; they changed as the drummers in
the army do; I cannot exactly tell how often; I believe about every
twenty-five lashes.

Do you recollect how many lashes he received?—No, I do not; he had a
great many.

Do you know how long it was about?—I cannot tell.

Were you near enough to see what the instrument was with which he was
flogged?—It was a kind of rope.

Can you tell the size of the rope?—No, I cannot pretend to say now.

Was it the usual instrument of punishment?—No, I never saw any one
punished before with a rope of that kind, nor by blacks before.

Were these blacks any part of the regiment?—They were not.

Did you ever see anybody punished in that way before, and with such an
instrument?—I never did, neither before nor since.

Where was Governor Wall during the time that this punishment was
inflicted?—He was in the circle just by the person that was punished,
urging them to do their duty, and threatening them if they did not.

Do you recollect any expressions he made use of at the time?—I heard him
say several times, “Cut him to the heart! Cut him to the liver!” I heard
him say that several times.

Did you hear Armstrong say anything to him during the time the
punishment was inflicted?—I believe he begged for mercy, but I do not
remember the words.

Did the governor say anything to him?—I heard him say something during
the punishment, but I am not certain whether it was to Armstrong or any
of the others.

You do not recollect whether the expressions you remember to have heard
from the governor were made use of during the punishment of Armstrong,
or any other person?—I have not said what you mentioned; what I have
said was during the punishment of Armstrong.

What became of Armstrong after the punishment?—I believe he was taken to
the hospital between two men; I saw him going away from the circle.

At this time was there any appearance of mutiny or disobedience among
the soldiers?—I did not see the least, nor hear of any.

Roger Moore, a private soldier at Goree in 1782, supplied the evidence
as to the actual chastisement:—

With what sort of instrument was the punishment inflicted?—_Moore_: It
was a rope.

Did you see the rope?—At a distance.

Could you form any judgment of the size of the rope?—It looked at a
distance near upon an inch.

In diameter?—Yes.

Were there any knots in it?—Not that I know or ever heard.

What number of lashes were given?—Armstrong received eight hundred.

How do you know?—I counted them myself.

Lieutenant Poplett, of the African corps, an eyewitness of the flogging,
though himself under arrest at the time, was in his evidence asked:—

After the circle had been formed, what did you see done to
Armstrong?—_Poplett_: I saw Armstrong stripped, fastened to a
gun-carriage, and flogged on his bare back by several black men,
frequently changed, I believe, at every twenty-five lashes.

Can you tell how many lashes were inflicted?—I think eight hundred.

After these lashes were inflicted, what became of Armstrong?—I saw him
supported towards the hospital.

Did you observe the rope that he was flogged with?—I did at a distance.

What might the distance be?—About forty yards, on an elevation of eleven
feet.

Could you distinctly see what passed?—I could.

What sort of a rope was it that was used?—I can produce one.

_Mr. Gurney_: Is it the same rope that was used?—I had it on the evening
of the 11th from one of the men who used it in the punishment of the
10th.

_Mr. Gurney_: That will not do.

_Mr. Wood_: Was it such a rope as that you have got there?—I believe it
was.

_Mr. Wood_: Be so good as to produce that which you have. (_The witness
produces a rope._)

_Mr. Wood_: Did you observe whether the rope that was used was knotted
at the end in the same manner as that is?—I could not at that distance
say positively that it was, but I believe it was.

Is it usual to inflict punishment with a rope like that?—I never saw
such a thing done in the army before.

What is the usual instrument of punishment upon those occasions?—A
cat-o’-nine-tails composed of small cord; if severe, generally of small
log-line; but, if moderate, generally whipcord.

Do you happen to know whether Armstrong had ever been tried or convicted
of any offence before this punishment was inflicted?—Not about that
time, to my knowledge.

Mr. Peter Ferrick, the surgeon, corroborated the proof as to the
punishment, and he was then asked:—

Did you attend this man to the hospital after the punishment had been
gone through?—_Ferrick_: Yes.

How long did he live?—It was done on the 10th, and I think he lived till
the 15th.

Did you attend him from day to day after the punishment till his
death?—Yes, twice a day.

What do you think was the cause of his death?—I have supposed, from that
time to this, that the punishment was the cause of his death.

_Lord Chief Baron Macdonald_: By “supposed,” do you mean that it is your
opinion?—Yes.

_Mr. Fielding_: You said you did not arrive within the circle till the
man was undergoing this punishment; therefore I will simply ask you, if,
during the course of that day, or at that time, you saw any appearance
of disorderly behaviour, tumultuous or mutinous?—Not the smallest.

Did you know of any?—Not any; I never heard of any till I heard it at
the Privy Council the other day.

Were you near Armstrong shortly before the time of his death?—I visited
him on the day on which he died.

If there are bruises occasioned by this instrument, is mortification
more likely to ensue from that punishment being inflicted with this rope
than with a common cat of nine tails?—Certainly; but that is reasoning
from experience; I did not know that before.

Then, as a surgeon, looking upon this instrument as likely by its
bruises to produce more mischief than a cat of nine tails, I ask what
your opinion must necessarily be of a punishment to the extent of eight
hundred lashes being inflicted upon a human body, whether the effect is
not likely to be attended with death?—It is.

_Mr. Justice Rooke_: What was this man’s state of health before he
received this punishment?—I believe he was in so good a state of health
that he was never in my hands at all.

William Rosser, assistant-surgeon, gave the following evidence:—

Was Armstrong brought into the hospital after receiving
punishment?—_Rosser_: He was.

You attended him till his death?—Yes.

Did you ever learn from him before his death that he expected he should
die?—Yes; he said that, the minute he came into the hospital, to the men
that brought him in.

What did he say?—He said he had been punished, and that he should die,
by order of Governor Wall, by black men, without a court-martial; that
was what he said when he was brought in first.

Cross-examined by Mr. Gurney:—

He did not drink any spirits in the hospital with your knowledge, I
suppose?—No, except the garrison allowance that was brought in.

How much was the garrison allowance?—Half a pint of brandy, or a pint of
wine.

He had his garrison allowance while he was in the hospital?—Yes, either
half a pint of brandy or a pint of wine each day.

That he had every day?—Yes.

That he drank it?—That I cannot answer for.

He had it?—Yes, and he might drink it.

Did you ever see him leave any?—Indeed, I cannot tell, for I did not
examine his bottle.

For anything you know, he did drink it; he had it if he chose?—He had it
if he chose.

Had you any reason to see, or to observe, that he hurt himself by
drinking any quantity of spirits after he came into the hospital?—I had
not.

_Mr. Justice Lawrence_: Did you at any time see him drink any spirits?—I
cannot recollect.

_Mr. Justice Rooke_: Had you any order not to let him drink spirits?—I
had not any orders not to let him drink his garrison allowance, for that
came into the hospital, and he might do as he thought fit with it.

The prisoner thus spoke in his defence:—

“I shall endeavour to state to your lordships and the gentlemen of the
jury in as brief a manner as possible the real facts of the case.

“Finding my health in a very precarious state, I determined, in July
1782, to give up the government of Goree, and return to England. On the
10th of July, I rather think the 11th, but I will confine myself to the
10th, I prepared to embark on board a ship for England to return to
Europe; in the morning of the 10th, I had a certificate from the
officers of the garrison that the arrears were cleared off, and was
perfectly satisfied that the account was settled. On the 10th, about
eleven o’clock in the morning, all the men of the corps that were off
duty came to the government house; I went out to them; they made a
demand of short allowance of provisions that was due to them from
Captain Adams; I explained that business to them so fully that I had not
a right to pay it, that the men, in a very short time, dispersed and
returned to the barracks. About two o’clock in the day they returned
again very much intoxicated with liquor, and insisted on having the
demand complied with. I expostulated with them for a length of time to
no effect, and ordered Sergeant Armstrong to march the men back again to
the barracks; he was then in the front, standing with his hat on; he
refused, and said “he would be damned if he would until it was settled
or the demand complied with.” I ordered the whole of them to face to the
left and march off to the barracks; the answer to that was, “they would
be damned if they would not immediately break open the stores and
satisfy themselves.” Finding them seriously bent upon proceeding to
extremities, and having no resource, if they had done so, nearer to me
than England, I begged an hour or two to consider of it, and that I
would give them an answer. They hesitated for some time, but at length
they acquiesced, upon condition that I was not to leave the island till
the business was settled. Armstrong then marched the men off without
taking any further notice, shouting and making a very great noise, and
saying that they had gained the victory.

“When I returned into the government house I sent for the officers of
the corps; and in the interval, till the officers arrived, I walked out
and was proceeding to the main-guard, to know the state of the garrison,
to know if the main-guard were in support of those that were off duty.
On my way I met Armstrong, Upton, Patterson, and several more, who told
me that I had promised not to quit the island till they were satisfied,
and that I should not go to the waterside until then. When I returned to
the government house I found the officers there, who all agreed that
immediate punishment was necessary to put a stop to the mutiny. I
ordered Lieut. O’Shanley to go to the drum-major to desire him to have
cats ready when called for. Lieutenant O’Shanley returned and reported
to me that the drum-major had told him that the cats had been destroyed,
and that I had best get away as soon as I could, for that the men would
not suffer any punishment to be inflicted upon any one of them, inasmuch
as they were all agreed.

“Captain Lacy then proposed punishing them by the linguist and his
assistants, which was acquiesced in by the other officers; from the time
of the soldiers departing it took up some time, till about four o’clock,
when I told Captain Lacy that I would go down to the main-guard and have
the mutineers brought upon the parade, and for him to come down with the
linguist and his assistants as soon as he found the ring formed, that
the people at the barracks might not be alarmed at knowing they were
going to receive punishment. Immediately upon the parade being formed,
the officers arrived, and the circle was formed; Captain Lacy,
Lieutenant Fall, Lieutenant O’Shanley, and Mr. Ferrick, the surgeon,
were on the parade in a very short time after. When I came upon the
parade I asked the men if they had any claim to make upon me. A man,
whose name I do not recollect, came forward and said he had, of the
short allowance money that was due to him from Governor Adams. I then
called upon Armstrong, he having no claim whatever, to account for his
mutiny; when Armstrong was standing forward, Ensign Ford came running to
me from the main-guard to inform me that the man that was confined was
breaking from his arrest and was coming to the parade. I asked the
ensign if he could not confine him; he told me he could not; that his
guard would not obey him. Seeing there was no time to be lost to put a
stop to it, I went off myself to the main-guard, and left Captain Lacy
in charge of the parade. Upon the soldier seeing me coming he retired
behind the guard that was turned out, in a manner as if he expected to
be supported by the guard; but upon seeing me coming up to him, he was
retiring, and I forced him into the guard-house. I was following him
into the guard-house to see him well secured, when the sentry at the
door clapped his bayonet to my breast and desired me to keep off, saying
that I should not enter. I struck the bayonet out of his hand and put
him prisoner with the other, and after having reprimanded the guard for
disobedience of Ensign Ford’s orders, I returned to the parade. I
ordered the artillery to be on the parade this evening, as I was afraid
of the African corps; it was a circumstance which never happened in the
garrison—the artillery being upon the parade at a punishment of the
African corps—before.

“Upon my coming upon the parade I ordered Capt. Lacy, Lieut. Fall, and
Lieut. O’Shanley to form a court-martial. Mr. Ferrick was at this time
upon the parade. Armstrong was brought forward and charged by me with
the mutiny; but as I did not choose to take away their lives I chose to
try them by a regimental court-martial; and indeed I had it not in my
power to form any other. Whilst Captain Lacy and Lieutenant O’Shanley
were trying Armstrong, I was outside the circle; Captain Lacy came to me
and reported that the court had sentenced Armstrong to receive eight
hundred lashes. I returned into the circle and told the prisoner the
sentence of the court-martial, which was, that he was to receive eight
hundred lashes, to be inflicted by the linguist and his assistants with
a small rope’s end, which is a small cord that was produced upon the
parade by the linguist and shown to the surgeon before Armstrong had
felt it. The surgeon approved of the cord, by saying it was not so bad
as a cat-of-nine-tails. The punishment was then inflicted upon
Armstrong; there was no other mode of punishment in the garrison; the
African corps never had a halberd delivered to them; tying the person to
the timbers of a six-pounder was the usual mode. Armstrong received his
punishment and walked away with little appearance of concern, and with
very little appearance of punishment. I beg to know, my lord, if I am to
go further with respect to the other people?”

_Lord Chief Baron Macdonald_: “No, we have only this single case before
us at present.”

_Prisoner_: “Armstrong, on the evening he was taken to the hospital,
drank spirituous liquors, so as to be intoxicated. The day after this
punishment, the sickly season advancing fast, I thought it was necessary
for the preservation of my life to get away, the climate being very bad,
and I having been for a length of time before very ill. I arrived in
England some time in August in the same year. Upon my arrival at the
Secretary of State’s office, I found there had been a number of charges
exhibited against me by Captain Crawford, then a lieutenant of the
African corps, and Mr. ——. These charges upon trial about ten months
after appeared to be totally groundless, and Captain Crawford was
reprimanded highly by his Majesty for presuming to bring such charges
against me; many of the other charges were found groundless, and very
much exaggerated. As soon as the inquiry into these charges was over, I
went down to Bath, and heard nothing farther, either of the punishment
of the men, nor anything concerning them, until two messengers came down
to me at Bath. The man who was the chief messenger told me he came down
on a message to me from Lord Sidney. I asked him, in the presence of two
people, if he had a warrant; he said he had not, yet I suspected that he
had a warrant. I told him, ‘I will comply with my Lord Sidney’s command
immediately.’ I sent to the Bear Inn for a post coach and four horses,
and I and the two messengers got into it quickly. We travelled three
miles out of town, and I stopped the coach, as I had occasion for a
person that was then in Bath to be in town, and I sent for this person;
we then proceeded on our way to London. I paid the expenses of the
carriage: I paid the dinner bill at Marlborough, and when we came to
Reading I ordered supper in the usual way. I did not think it was
absolutely necessary for me to tell the messengers I was going away. I
left Reading about eleven o’clock at night, nor did I absolutely know
what the charges were. I did not know whether they called it an arrest
or not when the business took place; and from the persecution I had met
with before, I thought it was dangerous to appear at that time; for all
the newspapers were full of false paragraphs, some of them asserting
that I had fired men from the mouths of cannon; others, that I had
additional means of punishment added to the ropes with which the men
were punished. It terrified me so that I could not face it till I
thought men’s minds were cool to listen to the truth without prejudice.
This is all that I have to say. I am here now to answer for it, and I
commit myself to the protection of your lordships and of the gentlemen
of the jury.”

Several witnesses were called for the defence, the principal of whom was
Mrs. Lacy, widow of the Captain Lacy, who was with Wall at the flogging
of Armstrong; and certainly, if her evidence was to be taken, the
conduct of the men, with Armstrong at their head, was riotous and
mutinous. Part of her examination was as follows:—

_Lord Chief Baron Macdonald_: Who headed these men the first time?—I do
not know; but the second time I perfectly recollect it was Armstrong.

_Mr. Knowlys_: But whoever they were, they addressed themselves to the
governor, and he answered them?—Yes; they addressed themselves to the
governor and demanded the short allowance due from Governor Adams.

Do you recollect what he said to them?—I think it was to return to their
barracks and give him time to consider of it.

Then he did this in person, not by any messenger?—No, in person.

Did they go away to their barracks at the desire of their governor?—They
did.

After they had gone this first time, did you see them come again?—I did;
in about an hour and a half’s time they came again.

In what way did they come then, and to what number?—They came headed by
Sergeant Armstrong, Upton, and Patterson; and these were the chief of
the African corps, to about seventy or eighty in number.

In what way did they come?—They came in a most riotous and mutinous
manner.

Were they apparently sober?—From their manner one would not suppose that
they were.

Did you see them before they reached the government house?—I saw them at
the time they came there.

State everything you saw pass.—I heard them swear that if the governor
did not satisfy their demands they would open the stores and satisfy
themselves.

Where was the governor at the time they uttered this expression?—He was
speaking to them.

How came he to speak to them?—I heard what passed from the soldiers.

At the time they came up, was the governor outside the government house
or did he go out to them?—He went out to them.

Did you hear the governor say anything to any particular person in the
company? you said Armstrong was one amongst them?—Yes.

Do you recollect Armstrong saying anything to the governor, or he to
him?—I heard Armstrong swear that if the governor did not satisfy his
demands he would open the stores.

What else passed between Armstrong and the governor?—After the governor
spoke to him he went off with the men shouting and making a great noise
in every state of mutiny.

Were any orders given by the governor to Armstrong?—I do not know.

Did the governor consent to their staying there in that way?—Certainly
not.

What did he say to them about their staying there?—I cannot repeat what
the governor said; I heard them behave in a mutinous manner.

Did the governor say anything to them about their staying there or
departing from that place?—He ordered them to depart.

When the governor ordered them to depart, what was the answer made by
Armstrong or any of the company?—They behaved in a riotous manner.

What answer did they make to him?—They would not for some time; they
declared they would break open the stores and supply themselves.

That was the answer they made to the governor’s orders to depart, was
it?—It was.

Did Armstrong or any of the company with him say anything about his
leaving the island at that time?—They were, I believe, very mutinous for
some time before.

Did they say anything about his departing or not from the island?—I do
not know. They said they would not let him leave the island till they
were satisfied.

Who was the spokesman upon this occasion?—Armstrong, Upton, and
Patterson were the three spokesmen.

Did they express their determination in a peaceable and quiet manner, or
the contrary?—They spoke it in a most threatening manner.

Was it in an alarming manner?—Indeed it was.

From the conduct and manner which the people observed towards the
governor at the time, did you yourself at that time apprehend
mischief?—Upon my word, I did.

Upon your oath?—Upon my oath, I did.

It should here be observed on this testimony of Mrs. Lacy, that, if not
otherwise exaggerating, she certainly overstated one fact—viz., as to
the number of men assembled being seventy or eighty—as none of the
witnesses, except Mrs. Faulkner, who came on the same side after her,
made them out even up to a third of eighty. Mrs. Lacy was also, in all
probability, wrong in positively asserting, against the convincing
evidence for the Crown, that the first witness, Lewis, was not the
orderly-sergeant, and was not present on the day in question. She was
shown to be still more at fault when she stated that her deceased
husband was incapacitated in consequence of a _coup de soleil_ from
coming forward to exculpate Governor Wall when first apprehended. Mrs.
Faulkner, the next witness, even went beyond Mrs. Lacy in describing the
violence of the supposed mutiny, and she was much shaken on
cross-examination. Her husband, Faulkner, one of the garrison, though
testifying to some mutinous behaviour on the part of the men, quite
broke down in endeavouring to show that there was a real court-martial.
He was asked:—

During the time the officers were inside the ring, what took
place?—Armstrong was called forward and asked what he had to say for his
own defence; he said nothing; he did not reply at all.

_Mr. Justice Rooke_: Did they tell him what he was charged with?—By
being mutinous.

_Mr. Alley_: What was said to Armstrong?—Captain Lacy said, “What have
you to say for yourself, Armstrong, being in this mutinous affair?”

Did he make any answer?—He made no reply.

_Mr. Justice Rooke_: Did they tell him what mutinous affair it
was?—Stopping the governor from going on board; and threatening to bring
his stores on shore if he did not settle with them.

Did Captain Lacy or anybody else say all that to Armstrong?—Yes, Captain
Lacy told him.

Now let us hear all Captain Lacy said?—Captain Lacy told him he was
tried for stopping the governor from going on board and threatening to
bring his stores on shore.

You heard Captain Lacy say this yourself, did you?—Yes, I did. He was
then tried by Captain Lacy, Lieutenant Fall, and Lieutenant O’Shanley.

_Lord Chief Baron Macdonald_: Was there any more trial than telling him
he had wished to prevent the governor from going, and that was a
mutinous affair? Was there anything more?—There was no more trial.

Then the trial was acquainting him with that and asking him what he had
to say for himself?—Yes.

_Mr. Alley_: Did he say anything for himself?—No, he did not.

Do you recollect whether anything further was said?—Nothing farther was
said.

Did you see the surgeon there?—Yes, I did.

Do you recollect anything further that passed at that time?—The surgeon
and linguist were both there at the time.

Do you recollect whether any sentence was pronounced?—There was.

What was said?—Captain Lacy told him he was to receive eight hundred
lashes by the linguist; he was then tied up and received them; the
surgeon was there present the whole time.

In confutation of the last assertion, the surgeon had already stated
that he was not present the whole time. The other witnesses for Wall,
one of whom was proved not credible on oath, did not carry his case any
further. A few respectable witnesses gave him a character for humanity,
but their testimony was feeble; and one of them, on cross-examination,
would not go so far as to state Wall bore a general reputation of being
humane.[19]

One glaring contradiction to Wall’s line of defence was his own letter
to Government on his return from Goree, in which (it was read at the
trial) he makes no allusion to any mutiny or riot having occurred. There
also remained unanswered the facts that Armstrong had not the shadow of
a trial, and that he was punished in a monstrous way, with an unusual
instrument and with an excessive number of blows. Upon all this the
learned Chief Baron pointedly commented in his lucid summing up, from
which I give the following introductory remarks, as most apt and
explanatory on the subject of suppressing military and naval mutiny, and
on corporal correction in general.

“This case,” said the Chief Baron, “will, gentlemen of the jury, for
many reasons, in my apprehension, require your closest and best
attention. In the first place, the charge against the prisoner at the
bar is the heaviest which our law knows; his life is at stake; and that
of itself would, I am sure, be sufficient to excite every degree of care
and attention in you; but in other respects it seems to me to be of
peculiar importance, for on the one hand, as the Attorney-General has
most liberally and most sensibly said, when a well-intentioned officer
is at a great distance from his native country, having charge of a
member of that country, and it shall so happen that circumstances may
arise which may alarm and disturb the strongest mind, it were not proper
that strictness and rigour in forms and in matters of that sort should
be required, where you find a real, true, and genuine intention of
acting for the best for the sake of the public. You see they are in a
situation distant from assistance and from advice; in these
circumstances, if a man should be so much thrown off the balance of his
understanding as not to conduct himself with the same care and attention
that any one in the county of Middlesex would be required to do, and
does not exceed greatly the just and proper line of his duty, allowances
for such circumstances ought unquestionably to be given to him.

“But, on the other hand, it is of consequence, that where a commander is
so circumstanced—that is, at a distance from his native country—at a
distance from inspection—at a distance from immediate control—and not
many British subjects being there—if he shall, by reason of that
distance, wanton with his authority and his command, it will certainly
be the duty of the law to control that, and to keep it within proper
bounds. The protection, therefore, of subjects who are serving their
country at that distance, on the one hand, is one of the objects you are
to have in view to-day. The protection of a well-intentioned officer—if
such he be—who does not by his conduct disclose a malevolent mind, but
may disclose human infirmity to a certain extent, who, being in
trepidation and alarm of mind, overlooks some things he ought otherwise
to have regarded;—such a man’s case is, on the other hand, deserving of
great attention....

“I would also mention to you, that in all cases of corporal punishment,
as I conceive, where there is lodged a discretion, regard is to be had
to the extent of that punishment and to the means of inflicting it;
because legitimate punishment may be inflicted in such a manner as to
show that the infliction of the punishment was made the ground of
wilfully carrying it to an extent and excess that would be attended with
the destruction of him who is the object of it. I conceive, for example,
that a regimental court-martial, although it is to act by discretion,
and is not strictly meted and bounded in the degree of punishment by act
of Parliament—nor are many subordinate punishments which are
discretionary in other courts—that such tribunals cannot go to any
excess that they please, either in the extent of that punishment or in
the mode of administering it. I conceive that a regimental
court-martial, and those who are to see its sentence put into execution,
are bound by the rules which good sense, experience, and humanity point
out, as not being so excessive as upon the very face of them to be
possibly the means of executing a sentence they could not pronounce,
namely, a sentence of death.

“Now, gentlemen, to make this extremely familiar. It is perfectly clear
that many persons have authority to correct in a certain degree. A
master has to correct his servant. A parent has not only the power, but
it is his duty to correct his child; but let me suppose that instead of
inflicting five or six strokes with a few birch twigs upon that child,
you inflict five or six hundred; although the instrument may be a legal
instrument, and cannot be quarrelled with, yet the extreme excess of the
quantity may denote an intent to do mischief, not bridled by that which
ought to bridle human actions. I will put it likewise that the
instrument itself is improper. Suppose, instead of five or six strokes
with a rod, you give five or six blows with a cudgel, you would say that
was an instrument likely to kill the child, and would be an excess with
respect to the instrument itself. So also, I conceive, it is not to go
abroad to the world that a court-martial is to inflict an over-great
number of strokes with an instrument likely to do much more mischief
than the ordinary instrument. It may be that a hundred strokes with a
particular instrument may do more mischief than a thousand with the
instrument ordinarily used. I take it they are bound to inflict that
measure of punishment which has been known ordinarily to be inflicted
and borne; and it may be a question whether the quantity be inordinate
in proportion to the instrument, that may not be evidence of such malice
as may constitute that which would otherwise be justifiable, a murder
according to the definition of the law of England.”

The Judge then went elaborately through the evidence; and after he had
concluded, the jury went out for some time, and returned with a verdict
of “Guilty.”

The Recorder proceeded to pass sentence of death upon Wall, that he
should be executed the following morning, and that his body should be
afterwards delivered to be anatomised according to the statute.

Mr. Wall seemed sensibly affected by the sentence, but said nothing more
than requesting the court would allow him a little time to prepare
himself for death.

On the 21st of January a respite was sent from Lord Pelham’s office,
deferring his execution until the 25th. On the 24th he was farther
respited till the 28th. His wife lived with him for the last fortnight
prior to his conviction. He, before trial, although allowed two hours a
day, from twelve till two, to walk in the yard, did not once embrace
this indulgence; and during his confinement never went out of his room,
except into the lobby to consult his counsel. He lived well, and was
sometimes in good spirits. He was easy in his manners and pleasant in
conversation; but during the night he frequently sat up in his bed and
sung psalms, being overheard by his fellow-prisoners. He had not many
visitors; his only attendant was a prisoner, who was appointed for that
purpose by the turnkey.

After trial he did not return to his old apartment, but was conducted to
a cell; he was so far favoured as not to have irons put on, but a person
was employed as a guard to watch him during the night, to prevent him
doing violence to himself. His bed was brought to him in the cell, on
which he threw himself in an agony of mind, saying it was his intention
not to rise until they called him on the fatal morning; and he kept his
word.

The sheriffs were particularly pointed and precise in their orders with
respect to confining him to the usual diet of bread and water
preparatory to the awful event. This order was scrupulously fulfilled.
The prisoner during a part of the night after sentence slept, owing to
fatigue and perturbation of mind. The next morning his wife applied, but
was refused admittance without an order from one of the sheriffs. She
applied to Mr. Sheriff Cox, who thereupon himself attended her to the
prison.

From the time of the first respite until twelve o’clock on Wednesday
night, Wall did not cease to entertain hopes of his safety. The interest
made to save him was very great. The whole of Wednesday occupied the
great law officers; the judges met at the Lord Chancellor’s in the
afternoon. The conference lasted upwards of three hours, but ended
unfavourably to Wall.

The prisoner had an affecting interview with his wife, the Hon. Mrs.
Wall, the night before his death, from whom he was painfully separated
about eleven o’clock. This disconsolate and affectionate lady,
unremitting in her solicitude, caused Wall to write a note to Mr. Kirby,
the jailor, about nine o’clock, requesting that she might be permitted
to remain in the cell until eleven, thus cordially manifesting her fond
but delusive hopes to the very latest moment. Mr. Kirby, with a feeling
of humanity, readily complied with this request. But no tidings of mercy
arrived, and at eleven o’clock she saw the end of all her earthly joys.
After many tender embraces, the wife reluctantly departed, overwhelmed
with grief and bathed in tears, while the unfortunate husband declared
that he could now, with Christian fortitude, submit to his unhappy fate.
During the greater part of the night he slept but little.

When, the following Thursday morning, Wall ascended the scaffold,
accompanied by the Rev. Ordinary, there arose three successive shouts
from an innumerable populace, the brutal but determined effusion of one
common sentiment, for the public indignation had never been so high
since the hanging of Mrs. Brownrigg, who had whipped her apprentices to
death.

The wretched Wall bowed his head under this extreme pressure of
ignominy, and almost immediately afterwards was, without signal,
launched into eternity. After hanging a full hour his body was cut down,
put into a cart, and immediately conveyed to a building in Cowcross
Street to be dissected. Wall was dressed in a mixed-coloured loose coat,
with a black collar, swandown waistcoat, blue pantaloons, and white silk
stockings. He appeared a miserable and emaciated object, never having
quitted the bed of his cell from the day of condemnation till the
morning of his execution.

The body of the unfortunate governor was not exposed to public view as
usual in such cases. Mr. Belfour, Secretary to the Surgeons’ Company,
applied to Lord Kenyon, Lord Chief Justice of the Court of King’s Bench,
to know whether such exposure was necessary; and finding that the forms
of dissection only were required, the body, after those forms had
passed, was consigned to the relations of the unhappy man upon their
paying fifty guineas to the Philanthropic Society. The remains were
interred in the churchyard of St. Pancras.

The “Gentleman’s Magazine” of 1802 thus refers to the execution of
Governor Wall:—

“Thursday, Jan. 28, 1802.—This day Joseph Wall, Governor of the island
of Goree, after a trial at the Old Bailey, which occupied the time of
the court from nine in the morning till near eleven at night, was, for
the wilful murder of Benjamin Armstrong, a sergeant in an African corps,
executed pursuant to his sentence. The gallows-hunters behaved with
great indecorum, hissing, groaning, and shouting, even to his very last
moments. Mr. Wall was six feet four inches high, and of a genteel
appearance. He behaved with great steadiness and composure during his
long and painful trial, which lasted fourteen hours. He was sixty-five
years of age, but did not look so old. He was respectably connected with
several families of distinction in Ireland. His brother, Counsellor
Wall, was a literary gentleman, who excited great notice in his day, and
was the author of several literary productions; but what was most
remarkable was, that he was the first person who presumed to publish
Parliamentary Reports with the real names of the speakers prefixed. Dr.
Johnson (in our Magazine) dressed them in Roman characters; others gave
them as Orators in the Senate of Liliput. Mr. Wall laid the foundation
of a practice which, we trust, for the sake of Parliament and of the
nation, will never be abandoned.”

It is quite clear, from the periodicals and from the squibs and verses
about it at the time, that Wall’s execution was approved of by the
public, and was looked on as a praiseworthy act of retributive justice.




                     THE TRIAL OF COLONEL DESPARD.


Towards the close of the year 1802 the feeble Peace of Amiens was
evidently on the eve of ending, and Europe was in feverish excitement.
The first Consul, Napoleon Bonaparte, fast approached the zenith of his
power: already had the “gloom of his glory” arisen “and o’ershadowed the
earth with his fame.” Unlike his illustrious nephew, Napoleon III., he
could not understand England, nor England him, and so the war between
them was about to be revived more deadly and determined than before.
England feared not (when did England ever fear?), but the British people
were everywhere in a state of uncertainty and anxiety, natural upon the
momentous preparations for the renewed struggle. Continual alarms of
internal treachery magnified into giant cases of treason, and
exaggerated demonstrations of loyalty were the order of the day. This
political condition must be fully understood to make us now-a-days
comprehend the extraordinary sensation caused by the following criminal
attempt of a half-crazy officer and a parcel of pauper miscreants, truly
one of the most miserable affairs that perhaps ever occupied a Royal
Commission sitting on a trial for high treason. The chief conspirator,
Despard, who had been a thorough gentleman and a soldier, and who had
Nelson himself to give him a character, must, from what he supposed was
the neglect, but what was no more probably than the procrastination of
Government, have lost his wits and have become a dangerous lunatic, more
fit for a madhouse than the gallows.

One can hardly refrain from a smile on reading the following
amplification of Lord Ellenborough, when passing sentence upon such poor
and incapable conspirators:—“The object,” said his lordship, “of the
conspiracy, in which you have borne your several very active and
criminal parts, has been to overthrow and demolish the fundamental laws
and established government of your country; to seize upon and destroy
the sacred person of our revered and justly beloved sovereign; to murder
and destroy the various members of his royal house; to extinguish and
annihilate the other branches of the legislature of this realm.” Yet the
learned and able judge did no more than speak the sentiments and
suspicions of the period. It was, indeed, the then excitement of the
public, and nowise any intrinsic importance, that has made this crime of
Despard historical. I here give it somewhat fully because the interest
really lies in details revealing the minuteness of the capabilities of
the prisoners, and the magnitude of the proceedings against them.

The ancient and honourable family of Despard is to this day of high
standing and respectability in Ireland. The first of the Despards who
settled there was a commissioner sent by Queen Elizabeth for
partitioning the Irish lands. This Commissioner Despard and his father
had fled from France in 1572 to escape the massacre of St. Bartholomew.
Their descendant, William Despard, Esq., of Cranagh, in the Queen’s
County, was M.P. for Bantry. His third son, William Despard, Esq., of
Killaghy, in the County of Tipperary, M.P. for Thomastown, married
Frances, daughter and coheir of Daniel Green, Esq., of Killaghy Castle,
County Tipperary, and was father (with other issue) of an eldest son,
William, his successor, and a second son, Francis Green. The eldest son
became William Despard, Esq., of Coubrane and Cartoun, Queen’s County,
and Killaghy Castle, County Tipperary, and married, May, 1732, Jane,
daughter of the Rev. Mr. Walsh, Rector of Blessington and had (with
another who died young) six sons, viz.:—1. William, who married and left
a family; 2. Philip, Captain 7th Fusiliers, who married and left a
family; 3. Green, Captain R.N., who died unmarried; 4. John, a
Lieut.-General in the Army, who married Harriet Anne, daughter of Thomas
Hesketh, Esq., and granddaughter of Sir Robert Hesketh, Bart., and had
an only child, Harriet Dorothea, wife of the late Vice-Admiral Henry
Francis Greville, C.B., kinsman of the Earl of Warwick: she left, with
other issue, a son, the present Major-General H. L. F. Greville, R.A.;
5. Andrew, a colonel in the army, who died in 1840, aged 90; and 6.
Edward Marcus, the unfortunate subject of this trial. Edward Marcus
Despard was born in 1750, and as the above genealogical account shows,
was the youngest of six brothers, all of whom, except the eldest, had
served their country either in the army or navy. In 1766, he entered the
army as an ensign, in the 5th regiment; in the same regiment he served
as a lieutenant, and passing into the 79th he was successively
lieutenant, quartermaster, captain-lieutenant, and captain. From his
superior officers he received many marks of approbation, particularly
from General Calcraft, of the 50th, General Meadows, and the Duke of
Northumberland. He had been for twenty years detached from any
particular corps, and entrusted with important offices. In 1779 he was
appointed chief engineer to the St. Juan expedition, and conducted
himself so as to obtain distinction and official praise. He also
received the thanks of the Council and Assembly of Jamaica for the
construction of public works there, and was in consequence appointed by
the Governor of Jamaica to be Commander-in-Chief of the Island of Rattan
and its dependencies, and of the troops there, and to rank as
lieutenant-colonel and field engineer; and he commanded as such on the
Spanish main, in Rattan, and on the Musquito shore, and the Bay of
Honduras. After this, at Cape Graciosa Dios, he put himself at the head
of the inhabitants, who voluntarily solicited him to take the command,
and took from the Spaniards Black River, the principal settlement of the
coast. For this he received the thanks of the Governor, Council, and
Assembly of Jamaica, and of the King himself. In 1783 he was promoted to
the rank of colonel. In 1784 he was appointed first commissioner for
settling and receiving the territory ceded to Britain, by the sixth
article of the definitive treaty of peace with Spain, in 1783. He so
well discharged his duty as a colonel that he was appointed
superintendent of his Majesty’s affairs on the coast of Honduras, which
office he held much to the advantage of the Crown of England, for he got
from that of Spain some very important privileges. The clashing
interests, however, of the inhabitants of the coast produced much
discontent, and the colonel was, by a party of them, accused wrongly, as
it turned out, to his Majesty’s ministers, of various misdemeanours. He
therefore came home, and demanded that his conduct should be
investigated; but after two years’ constant attendance on all the
departments of Government, he was at last told by the ministers that
there was no charge against him worthy of investigation, and that his
Majesty had thought proper to abolish the office of Superintendent at
Honduras, otherwise he should have been reinstated in it; but he was
then, and on every occasion, assured that his services should not be
forgotten, but in due time meet their reward. Well it would have been
for the colonel if he had rested satisfied with this intimation and
waited quietly for the promised employment; but official delay, the
circumlocution of a busy time, and the apparent spurns of his merit,
which he took too impatiently, seem to have somewhat turned his brains.
The colonel got irritated by continual disappointments, and began to
vent his indignation in a public and unguarded manner.[20] He
consequently was looked on in the light of a suspicious character, and
was arrested and held for some time, in harsh confinement, in
Coldbath-fields gaol, under the Act the 38 George III., c. 36 (continued
by subsequent acts), which empowered “His Majesty to secure and detain
such persons as his Majesty shall suspect are conspiring against his
person and Government.” Imprisonment increased rather than amended the
rancour and restlessness of Despard’s temper, and on his liberation he
was little better than a lunatic: he had become a wild revolutionist,
and, what was a strong sign of his mental aberration, an infidel. He
daily grew more and more malignant against Government. Thus inflamed, he
endeavoured to inflame others, and at length brought upon himself, and
those poor ignorant wretches who were seduced by his arguments, disgrace
and death. A madder or more miserable conspiracy than his never was
hatched. It was revealed to the public in the following manner:—On the
16th of November, 1802, in consequence of a search warrant, a numerous
body of the police-officers went to the Oakley Arms, Oakley-street,
Lambeth, where they apprehended Colonel Despard, and near forty
labouring men and soldiers, many of them Irish. Next morning they were
all brought up before the magistrates in the Union Hall. The result of
the examination was, that Colonel Despard was committed to the county
gaol, and afterwards to Newgate; twelve of his low associates (six of
whom were soldiers) were sent to Tothill-fields Bridewell, and twenty to
the New Prison, Clerkenwell. Ten other persons who had been found in a
different room, and who appeared to have no concern with the colonel’s
party, were instantly discharged.

The colonel during all the preliminary examinations was invariably
silent.

The Privy Council, the more effectually to try the prisoners, issued a
special commission.

On the 21st of January, 1803, the special commission was opened at the
Sessions House at Newington. The judges present were:—The Right Hon. Sir
Edward Law, Lord Ellenborough, Lord Chief Justice of the Court of King’s
Bench; the Hon. Sir Alexander Thomson, one of the Barons of the Court of
Exchequer; the Hon. Sir Simon Le Blanc, one of the Justices of the Court
of King’s Bench; and the Hon. Sir Alan Chambre, one of the Justices of
the Court of Common Pleas.

On the same day the Grand Jury met, among whom were Lord Leslie,
foreman, Viscount Cranley, Lord William Russell, Sir Mark Parsons, and
four other baronets. The names of Sir Mark Parsons and Lord William
Russell awake in themselves criminal recollections, for Sir Mark’s
father was hanged for felony in 1760, and Lord William was murdered by
Courvoisier in 1840. This Grand Jury returned a true bill against Edward
Marcus Despard, John Wood, Thomas Broughton, John Francis, Thomas
Phillips, Thomas Newman, Daniel Tyndall, John Doyle, James Sedgwick
Wratten, William Lander, Arthur Graham, Samuel Smith, and John
Macnamara, for high treason.

The court then adjourned to the 5th of February following, when it again
met at the same place, the Sessions House, Newington; and, on the same
judges taking their seats, Edward Marcus Despard, John Wood, Thomas
Broughton, John Francis, Thomas Phillips, Thomas Newman, Daniel Tyndall,
John Doyle, James Sedgwick Wratten, William Lander, Arthur Graham,
Samuel Smith, and John Macnamara were set to the bar, and, being
arraigned, severally pleaded “Not guilty.” Despard had already had
assigned to him for counsel Serjeant Best and Mr. Gurney. On the request
of the other prisoners, Mr. Jekyll and Mr. Howell were assigned their
counsel.

The prisoners’ counsel having signified that they should separate in
their challenges of the jury, the Attorney-General stated that he should
proceed first on the trial of Colonel Despard. The court then adjourned
to the following Monday, the 7th February, when it met again, and the
trial of Despard began before the same judges.

The counsel for the Crown were:—The Attorney-General, the Hon. Spencer
Percival, afterwards First Lord of the Treasury, and Chancellor of the
Exchequer; the Solicitor-General, Sir Thomas Manners Sutton, afterwards
Lord Manners and Lord Chancellor of Ireland; Serjeant Shepherd,
afterwards Sir Samuel Shepherd, Attorney-General, and Lord Chief Baron
of the Exchequer of Scotland; Mr. Plumer, afterwards Sir Thomas Plumer,
Solicitor General, and successively Vice-Chancellor of England and
Master of the Rolls; Mr. Garrow, afterwards Sir William Garrow,
Attorney-General, and a Baron of the Exchequer; the Common Serjeant; Mr.
Wood, afterwards Sir George Wood, a Baron of the Exchequer; Mr.
Fielding, afterwards a police-magistrate; Mr. Abbott, afterwards Sir
Charles Abbott, Lord Chief Justice of the Court of King’s Bench, and
Baron Tenterden. The solicitor for the Crown was Joseph White, Esq.,
Solicitor for the Affairs of his Majesty’s Treasury. The counsel for
Colonel Despard were Serjeant Best, afterwards Sir William Draper Best,
Lord Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas, and Baron Wynford; and
Mr. Gurney, afterwards Sir John Gurney, a Baron of the Exchequer. The
solicitor for Despard’s defence was Mr. Palmer, of Barnard’s Inn.

The indictment was opened by Mr. Abbott.

The Attorney-General, in addressing the jury, began by enforcing the
necessity of a patient attention to his statement and a due
consideration of the evidence. “No one,” he said, “would deny that, if
there has been a plot to overturn the Constitution and destroy our
Sovereign, the base conspirator should suffer his merited punishment,
but the nature of the charge should not operate to his disadvantage; the
grand principle of our law ought rather to be confirmed, ‘that every man
should be considered innocent till he is found guilty.’” The
Attorney-General then adverted to the nature of the crime of treason,
and expressed his expectation that, if the charge were substantiated,
the jury would pronounce the prisoner guilty without the least
hesitation; and, after many remarks to show that there was not the least
ground for suspecting the prosecution to have been brought forward from
any party motive or prejudice on the side of Government, he concluded
his preliminary remarks with observing, that from the clearness of the
evidence, the trial could not be long. He then proceeded to state the
counts in the indictment, which were three in number, and charged the
acts to have been done with the intention of compassing the death of the
king, imprisoning his person, and dethroning him. To prove the criminal
intention, an overt act is necessary, and in this indictment eight overt
acts were stated, which were divided into two classes: the four first
charged the seduction of his Majesty’s troops, for the purpose of
assassinating and imprisoning him; and the remainder, plans for the
accomplishing of these purposes. After fully stating the law respecting
treason and conspiracy, the Attorney-General read over the names of the
persons included in the indictment, and observed that ten of them,
besides the prisoner, were apprehended at the Oakley Arms on the 16th
November. It appeared that, in the last spring, a detachment of Guards
returned from Chatham, and shortly afterwards a conspiracy was formed
for overturning the Government; a society was established for the
extension of liberty, of which two men, named Francis and Wood, were
very active members; they frequently attempted to seduce soldiers into
the association, and sometimes with success. Francis administered
unlawful oaths to those that yielded, and among others were two named
Blaine and Windsor, giving them two or three copies of the oath that
they might be enabled to make proselytes in their turn. Windsor soon
after becoming dissatisfied gave information to a Mr. Bownas, and showed
him a copy of the oath. This gentleman invited him to continue a member
of the association, that he might learn whether there were any persons
of consequence engaged in it. The prisoner at the bar tendered this
oath; it was found in the possession of Broughton, Smith, and others. It
was printed on the cards in these words:—“Constitution! the independence
of Great Britain and Ireland! an equalisation of civil, political, and
religious rights! an ample provision for the families of the heroes who
shall fall in the contest! a liberal reward for distinguished merit!
These are the objects for which we contend, and to obtain these objects
we swear to be united.”

The form of the oath was:—“In the awful presence of Almighty God, I, A.
B., do voluntarily declare that I will endeavour to the utmost of my
power to obtain the objects of this union—namely, to recover those
rights which the Supreme Being in His infinite bounty has given to all
men; that neither hopes nor fears, rewards nor punishments, shall induce
me to give any information, directly or indirectly, concerning the
business, or of any members of this or of any similar society, so help
me God!”

The Attorney-General then commented on different passages contained in
this oath, and endeavoured to show that it could only bear a treasonable
interpretation. Proceeding in his statement, he observed that, about the
middle of summer, the conspirators began to think it might be dangerous
for them always to meet at the same place. To avoid suspicion, they
therefore went to various public-houses in Windmill-street,
Oxford-street, St. Giles’s, Hatton Garden, Whitechapel, in the Borough,
about the Tower, and to the Oakley Arms in Lambeth. To these meetings
they invited soldiers, and treated them; toasts were given to answer the
objects of the association, such as “the Cause of Liberty,” “Extension
of Rights,” “the Model of France,” &c. They now increased greatly in
audacity, and were betrayed by their confidence into the greatest
extravagances; some of them proposed a day for attacking the Tower, and
the great blow was to have been struck on the 16th November, the day on
which the king first intended to go to Parliament.

“I shall hasten,” continued the Attorney-General, “in the statement of
my evidence, to the later scenes of this conspiracy; because, during the
early part of it, excepting in the instances of endeavouring to
administer these unlawful oaths, the evidence will not bring Despard
very forward in the conspiracy. But when it appeared to approach a
little more to its maturity, the colonel appears a more conspicuous
character. The events of the last week previous to his arrest will
furnish me, I think, with no less than four opportunities of showing him
connected with these conspirators, in most treasonable communication
upon the design. On the Tuesday preceding the Tuesday on which they were
arrested, on the 9th November, he was at the same Oakley Arms, in
company with some of the same traitors in whose company he was found on
the 16th. Broughton is a name I particularly recollect, who, I think,
was the person that invited the witness whom I shall call to prove his
having been there, and represented that the time was now approaching
when it was intended that a great stroke should be struck. You may
recollect that his Majesty had intended to meet his Parliament, the last
sessions, a week sooner than he actually did. It was intended that he
should have met Parliament on the 16th instead of the 23rd; and on the
16th it was the intention of these conspirators, supposing his Majesty
had on that day gone down to the House, to have carried into effect this
plan of destroying him. On the night of the 9th of November, I shall
show the prisoner to have been present amongst these conspirators. I
shall prove him likewise to have been present at a meeting that will be
very particularly deserving of your attention on the Friday. The same
Broughton will be proved to have prevailed upon two persons, whom I
shall call to you as witnesses—Windsor was one of them, and Emblin
another—to go on the Friday to the Flying Horse, at Newington, Broughton
telling them that if they went, they would meet a nice man there, and
find that things were in a fine train. They accordingly went, and the
nice man whom they found, and to whom they were there introduced, was
Colonel Despard, the prisoner at the bar....

“That meeting lasted about two hours; and the plan of carrying this
treason into execution was the main subject of conversation. The mode in
which the Tower was watched and guarded was one topic of conversation,
with a view to see what facilities or difficulties might attend an
attack upon that place. The principal thing, however, which will require
your consideration, was the plan of intercepting the king in his way
down to the Parliament House; this was discussed. The difficulties
attending it—the mode in which these difficulties were to be met with
and got rid of—were parts of the conversation supported by different
persons. I think it was Broughton who suggested that one good way would
be to shoot the horses of the coach, and then the coach would
necessarily stop; upon which it was observed by one of them that the
Life Guards who were surrounding the coach would cut down any man who
attempted to approach it; and on this occasion the prisoner at the bar
made use of expressions which will be particularly spoken to, and will
be particularly worthy of your attention. Upon its being stated that the
Life Guards would resist any attempt that should be made upon the coach,
and cut down any man who should approach it, and on its being asked who
would be found to do it, he said that if no one else would do it, he
would do it himself, accompanying it with an expression strongly
demonstrative of the turn and frame of his mind at the moment, and of
the desperate extent to which he meant to carry his treason;
accompanying his expression by no less remarkable words than these: “I
have well weighed the matter, and my heart is callous.” Gentlemen, this
cannot be equivocal; callous, indeed, must be the heart which meditated
the plan that I charge against him; and the expression could hardly be
used with reference to any other.”

The Attorney-General then observed, that Government was well aware of
the proceedings of these people, but would not interfere while danger
was at a distance; however, when the schemes were nearly completed,
about thirty prisoners were arrested at the Oakley Arms, and a
sufficient body of evidence collected to prove them guilty. The
conspirators consisted of the lowest order of the people, as journeymen,
day-labourers, and common soldiers, with the exception, however, of the
prisoner at the bar. Several were discharged; and Windsor, the evidence,
came after the arrest, and offered to deliver himself up and communicate
all information in his power: on his testimony several others were taken
into custody. These were the principal points in the speech of the
Attorney-General; but he continued for some time to expatiate on the
probable system of defence for the prisoners, which he conceived would
be principally an attack on the credibility of the witnesses: he
contended that an accomplice is competent; observed that there could not
be a doubt of the guilt of some of the prisoners; and that the papers
were sufficient to prove the conspiracy, independent of oral testimony.
He concluded thus:—

“I trust you will have no extraordinary feeling that should lead you to
think that you are to endeavour to extricate the prisoner by any strain
of ingenuity or of conscience in this case, which would not be properly
applicable to another. Undoubtedly the nature of the charge is such as
requires, as I stated, your most anxious attention. It is one of the
blackest and most mischievous that can come before you; but when it is
brought home to the prisoner, the effect of these considerations is at
an end. That he will even then, and to the last, be entitled to the
fullest possible measure of justice at your hands, is that which
unquestionably is true. His title to justice he can never forfeit; it
cannot be forfeited in a court constituted as this is; administering
English law by an English jury, under the direction of English judges;
but that there shall be any feeling of humanity, which should be
restlessly anxious to extend itself in his favour beyond those bounds
within which both public and private duty confine it, is that which the
prisoner has no title to expect, is that against which the public have a
right to protest and to reclaim. I fear I have troubled you too long; I
shall now proceed to call the witnesses, and if I do lay before you the
evidence as I have opened it, confirmed as I have stated that it will be
confirmed, I apprehend your duty to convict the prisoner, however
painful the discharge of that duty may be to your feelings, will be
indispensable.”

Counsel then proceeded to call the witnesses for the prosecution.

Mr. J. Stafford, clerk to the magistrates of Union Hall, stated the
arrest of the prisoners. Colonel Despard at first refused to be
searched, but afterwards submitted, though nothing was found on him.
There were three papers on the floor, which proved to be the oath, &c.,
already mentioned. Several police-officers proved the presence of
Colonel Despard at the Oakley Arms.

Thomas Windsor, the principal evidence, said he was a private in the
Guards, and that on his return from Chatham in March, he received some
papers from John Francis which were similar to those already mentioned.
Francis told him the object of the party was to overturn the present
tyrannical system of government. The manner of taking the oath was by
reading it secretly and then kissing the card. One object of the members
was to raise subscriptions for delegates to go into the country, and to
pay for affidavits. The society was divided into companies of ten men,
commanded by another who bore the title of colonel. Francis and a person
named Macnamara called themselves colonels. Encouragements were given to
get a number of recruits, for which purpose cards were to be distributed
through the country; afterwards, the witness was introduced by Broughton
to Colonel Despard, at Newington, when in the course of conversation the
colonel said that a regular organization in the country was necessary,
and he believed that it was general. The people were everywhere ripe,
and were anxious for the moment of the attack; “and,” added he, “I
believe this to be the moment, particularly in Leeds, Sheffield,
Birmingham, and every great town throughout the kingdom. I have walked
twenty miles a day, and wherever I have been the people are ripe.”
Colonel Despard then said that the attack was to be made on the day when
the king would go to Parliament. He then repeated the words used by the
colonel respecting the callousness of his heart, and stated that, after
the destruction of the king, it was proposed the mail coaches should be
stopped as a signal to the people in the country that the revolt had
taken place in London. The colonel was cautious as to the admission of
new members. At another meeting the colonel, accompanied by Heron, a
discharged soldier, and another person, observed, “We have been deceived
as to the number of arms in the Bank: there are only six hundred stand
there, and they have taken the hammers to render them useless, as they
must have been apprised of our intention.” They then returned to a
public-house, when the colonel said privately to the witness, “Windsor,
the king must be put to death the day he goes to the House, and then the
people will be at liberty.” He said he would himself make the attack
upon his majesty if he could get no assistance on that (meaning the
Middlesex) side of the water. The prisoner Wood said, that when the king
was going to the House, he would post himself as sentry over the great
gun in the park; that he would load it and fire at his majesty’s coach
as he passed through the park. Wood might in the course of his duty be
sometimes placed as a sentry over that gun.

Mr. Bownas proved the copy of the “constitution” and oath given to him
by Windsor.

Thomas Blaise, a private in the second battalion of Guards, deposed that
Wood had told him of the union of several gentlemen who had determined
to form an independent constitution at the risk of their lives and
fortunes: he said the executive government had appointed Francis to be
colonel of the first regiment of National Guards. Macnamara called upon
Francis to point out three colonels and one artillery officer, and
charged him to do it with the utmost impartiality. Francis then pointed
out him (the witness) as a proper man for a colonel. The commissions
were to be distributed previous to the attack, when one of the persons,
named Pendril, observed, that if it had not been for four or five
cowards it would have taken place before that day, adding that he
himself could bring a thousand men into the field, and if any man showed
symptoms of cowardice he would blow his brains out; if anybody dared to
betray the secret, that man, he said, should have a dagger in his heart.
The witness then deposed to meeting with Colonel Despard at the Oakley
Arms, on which occasion he heard much conversation about the best method
of attacking the king: some said the Parliament house must also be
attacked, and after that they must file away for the Tower. This
witness, on his cross-examination, admitted that he had been three times
tried by a court-martial for desertion, and accused of theft.

William Francis, a private in the 1st Guards, deposed nearly to the same
effect as the preceding witness, as to the nature of the oath which was
read to him, because he could not read himself; he said, at one time
there was an assemblage of people near the Tower, but they were
immediately dispersed by orders from Colonel Despard, but he admitted
that the oath was administered to him by the colonel himself; at one
meeting the soldiers drew their bayonets, and said they were ready to
die in the cause. On his cross-examination, he denied that he had ever
been flogged, or had deserted.

John Connell, who had been arrested at the Oakley Arms and admitted
evidence, denied that his name was John, and insisted that it was
Patrick; he afterwards admitted that he was advised by the prisoner to
play this trick on the counsel. He was dismissed.

Several other soldiers in the Guards gave evidence as to the meeting of
societies for overturning the Government, under the name of “Free and
Easy,” which met at different public-houses.

John Emblin, a watchmaker and a witness, who appeared to be of a
superior understanding, deposed that he attended at the Oakley Arms on
the suggestion of Lander, but disapproved of the plans. He also agreed
in stating the plan of attack already mentioned, which was explained to
him by Broughton, Graham, and others. Colonel Despard informed him that
a very considerable force would come forward, particularly in all the
great towns: and said that he had been engaged in this business for two
years, and added, “I have travelled twenty miles to-day; everywhere I
have been, the people are ripe and anxious for the moment of attack.”
This witness deposed to the plan of shooting the horses, as well as to
the remarkable expression of the colonel before mentioned; also to the
conversation about seizing the Bank, when it was agreed that the Bank
should be seized and the Tower taken. Various subordinate plans were
also detailed by the witness; amongst others, Broughton told him, with
an oath, that he was resolved to load the great gun in the park with
four balls or chain-shots, and fire it at the king’s coach as he
returned from the House.

Here the evidence for the Crown was closed.

Serjeant Best then addressed the jury on behalf of the prisoner, and
endeavoured to show that, from the nature and spirit of our
constitution, a person in his situation is entitled to peculiar favour.
From the Act the 36 Geo. III., c. 7, on which the indictment was partly
founded, he insisted that it is not by mere words spoken, that an
accused person is to be found guilty, because a speech is subject to
such serious misinterpretation. He laboured to show that words did not
constitute an overt act; yet he admitted that the colonel was at some of
the meetings, and that he might have spoken obnoxious words; but before
he could be convicted, it was necessary to prove that he knew the
meeting was of a treasonable nature. He denied that the printed card or
paper was at all connected with the colonel, and cited the case of Layer
and others (in the sixth vol. of the “State Trials”), to prove that the
Crown did not content themselves with such trivial proofs as here
adduced, and laid much stress on the circumstance of no arms having been
prepared for the attack. His next object was to impeach the credibility
of the witnesses, the concurrent testimony of whom was, in the present
instance, of no more force than one. The great improbability of the
story was his next point of argument, and he ridiculed the idea of
fourteen or fifteen in a common tap-room, with no fire-arms but their
tobacco-pipes, men of the lowest orders of society, who were to seize
the King, the Bank, the Tower, and the members of both Houses of
Parliament; in short, he considered the whole statement of the witnesses
as too absurd to merit attention, and that Colonel Despard, who was a
gentleman and a soldier, could not have embarked in such impracticable
schemes unless he was bereft of reason. He then alluded to the past
services of the colonel, who, in a joint command with Lord Nelson, had
preserved one of our valuable colonies. It was known that the colonel
had been suspected by Government; but though he had long been confined,
there was not at that time sufficient evidence against him to go before
a grand jury. He proceeded to comment on the character of the witnesses,
and concluded thus:—

“I am persuaded, that at this late hour of the night, fatigued as I
necessarily must be in passing through so arduous a service, some
observations must have escaped me, and those which have occurred to me I
have not pressed with that force which the occasion demands at my hands,
but I have one consolation in the assistance of my learned friend, who
will soon follow me, and supply my defects; or even if he should fail in
doing that, we have this further consolation, that everything that can
be urged in favour of the prisoner will be stated by the noble and
learned judge. Any defect of mine he will supply, any inaccuracy he will
correct. I have only to remind you, that you are sitting in a British
court of justice. It is one of the maxims of the country in which we
live—that maxim upon which everything dear and valuable depends—that you
are to administer justice in mercy. You are sitting in a court of
justice, which is a member of the government of a free people; you will
remember that it is one of the principles of freedom, that men are not
to be compelled to an adherence to the government by terror, but to be
attached to its laws by love. I am perfectly persuaded, therefore, that
if you should agree with me presently in saying this case is not made
out, and it is not to be made out by conjecture, you are not to condemn
unless all idea of innocence be completely extinguished by the weight of
the evidence that has been produced upon the cause,—I say, if you should
agree with me in saying you do not see satisfactory grounds for
delivering over this gentleman to that horrid death to which you assign
him if you pronounce him guilty, a verdict of acquittal will have a
greater effect than a verdict of guilty. Gentlemen, I say we are
attached to our constitution and laws by love, and are not bound to
adhere to them by fear; that love must necessarily be increased by such
a circumstance as this, that after so many hours of trial, by so
respectable a jury, men of consideration and consequence in the country,
this gentleman, after the attack which has been made upon him, is
delivered from it by your verdict. I am persuaded that, if there are any
deluded persons in this country who fancy we have not attained that
degree of perfect freedom which is capable of being attained, though I
should hope what has lately passed would operate completely to remove
that delusion, nothing will so completely satisfy them of their mistake
as a verdict pronounced by you of not guilty, to-night. They will know,
that when a subject is attacked by a prosecution not made out by fair
and clear evidence, he is sure of protection in the uprightness and
integrity of the judge, and the mercy of the jury who try the cause.
They will learn that true freedom consists in the just and humane
administration of law, and will observe and cherish the laws they find
to be so administered. I at one time intended to offer evidence in
contradiction of these witnesses, but if I have shown them accomplices,
and that the case is only proved by their evidence, I have shown them
unworthy of contradiction, and the attempt could only serve to increase
the fatigue you have already undergone; but I shall offer most material
evidence: I shall offer evidence of the character of this gentleman. If
courts of justice are intended to correct the morals and confirm the
virtuous inclination of those who attend them—which is one great object
of their institution—they cannot do it more effectually than by paying
attention to the evidence of good character; it is telling a man that
if, by the tenor of his life, he shall acquire a good character, it
shall afford him a shield in a court of justice in the day of trial. The
evidence of character must have effect in another point of view. The
Attorney-General has said every man is to be supposed innocent till
proved guilty. It is much less likely that a man who has maintained a
good character should become on a sudden the vilest of men, _nemo
repente fit turpissimus_, than that one who has appeared less correct
should become criminal. I say, if this gentleman has borne a good
character, which I shall show he has, that the case attempted to be made
out against him is most improbable. One would almost believe that the
stream should set back upon the fountain, than that a man who has
deserved well of his country should concur with such miserable persons
as you have heard to-day, in one of the most miserable conspiracies for
treason that I ever heard of. I have too good an opinion of the loyalty
of the country to give credit to this story. If the case is made out, it
is a most detestable and abominable treason. If the case is made out, no
man but would with satisfaction see the sentence of the law executed;
but remember the maxim of the Attorney-General, that, in proportion as
the crime is enormous, so ought the proof to be clear. Gentlemen, I beg
your pardon for troubling you at such a length at this time of night.”

Serjeant Best, confining his evidence for the prisoner to witnesses for
character, called, as a leading witness, no less a personage than
Vice-Admiral Horatio, Lord Viscount Nelson, K.B., who was examined by
Mr. Gurney as follows:—

How long has your lordship known Colonel Despard?—It is twenty-three
years since I saw him; I became acquainted with him in the year 1779, at
Jamaica. He was, at that time, lieutenant in what were called the
Liverpool Blues. From his abilities as an engineer, I know he was
expected to be appointed——

Lord Ellenborough.—I am sorry to be obliged to interrupt your lordship;
but we cannot hear what I dare say your lordship would give with great
effect, the history of this gentleman’s military life, but you will
state what has been his general character?

To this Lord Nelson answered:—We went on the Spanish Main together; we
slept many nights together in our clothes upon the ground; we have
measured the heights of the enemy’s wall together. In all that period of
time, no man could have shown more zealous attachment to his sovereign
and his country than Colonel Despard did. I formed the highest opinion
of him, at that time, as a man and an officer, seeing him so willing in
the service of his sovereign. Having lost sight of him for the last
twenty-three years, if I had been asked my opinion of him, I should have
said, “If he is alive, he is certainly one of the brightest ornaments of
the British Army.”

Vice-Admiral Lord Nelson was thus cross-examined by Mr.
Attorney-General:—

What your lordship has been stating was in the years 1779 and 1780?—Yes.

Have you had much intercourse with Colonel Despard since that time?—I
have never seen him since the 29th of April, 1780.

Then as to his loyalty for the last twenty-three years of his life your
lordship knows nothing?—Nothing.

Two other distinguished witnesses spoke in favour of the character of
the Colonel—viz., Sir Edward Clark, at one time Governor of Jamaica, who
had known the Colonel for many years up to 1790, and Sir Evan Nepean,
Bart., Secretary to the Admiralty, who had been intimate with him from
1784 until almost up to the time of the trial. “I had,” said Sir Evan,
“so high an opinion of him, that I invited him to my house. I considered
him a loyal man.”

Mr. Gurney spoke to evidence in behalf of the prisoner, and endeavoured
to invalidate the testimony of the witnesses; his peroration was
eloquent.

“Before I sit down,” said he, “I must entreat your serious attention to
one observation more. There have been many cases in the history of the
criminal jurisprudence of this country, which should impress caution on
the minds of jurymen: many in cases of other crimes; many in cases of
treason. How many innocent men have died in consequence of the credulity
of jurors? I will refer you only to the supposed Popish plot in the
reign of Charles II., for which as many men as are indicted here
suffered unjustly; the juries by which they were tried being deceived by
the hard swearing of witnesses, not more infamous than those whom you
have heard to-day: and yet those juries were countenanced by the whole
nation, the two Houses of Parliament leading the way. So firm and
general was the belief of that plot, that to dispute or doubt its
existence was deemed a mark of disaffection to the Protestant cause. In
a short time the veil was torn off: the perjury, which had triumphed,
was discovered to be perjury, but it was too late; the dead could not be
recalled from the grave; and the jurors who had sent them there were
left to the bitter reflections of their consciences,—to the unavailing
lamentation of their credulity. But, though these persons died
_unjustly_, I trust they did not die _in vain_. Their innocent blood
speaks aloud to you not to follow the fatal example of your
predecessors; not to lend, as they did, too easy faith to the testimony
of wicked men. May you attend to the warning voice, and pronounce a
verdict of acquittal, of which, I trust, you will never have reason to
repent.”

Colonel Despard declined saying anything in his own behalf.

The Solicitor-General replied on the part of the Crown, after which Lord
Ellenborough summed up, and stated the nature of overt acts; he read,
_verbatim_, the whole of the evidence, commenting, as he proceeded, on
the most striking parts.

The jury withdrew at about twenty minutes after two o’clock on the
Tuesday morning to consider their verdict; they returned into court in
about twenty-five minutes with a verdict finding the prisoner—Guilty.

The foreman added, “My lord, we most earnestly recommend the prisoner to
mercy on account of the high testimonials to his former good character
and eminent services.”

At three o’clock the court adjourned to nine o’clock on Wednesday
morning, when it again met, and the trial of John Wood, Thomas
Broughton, John Francis, Thomas Phillips, Thomas Newman, Daniel Tyndall,
John Doyle, James Sedgwick Wratten, William Lander, Arthur Graham,
Samuel Smith, and John Macnamara, commenced and lasted till near eight
o’clock the next morning, when the jury found John Wood, Thomas
Broughton, John Francis, Thomas Newman, Daniel Tyndall, James Sedgwick
Wratten, William Lander, Arthur Graham, and John Macnamara, guilty.

After which Edward Marcus Despard, John Wood, Thomas Broughton, John
Francis, Thomas Newman, Daniel Tyndall, James Sedgwick Wratten, William
Lander, Arthur Graham, and John Macnamara, were set to the bar.

Lord Ellenborough then passed sentence of death upon the prisoners in a
rather high-flown speech. After describing in the strongest manner the
enormity of the crime of which they had been convicted, and observing
that such vile purposes, however zealously begun, generally terminated
in schemes of treachery against each other, he then proceeded:—

“With respect to the wicked contrivers of abortive treason now before
me, it only remains for me to acquit myself of my last official duty. As
for you, Colonel Despard, born, as you were, to better hopes, and
educated to nobler ends and purposes; accustomed as you have hitherto
been to a different life and manners, and pursuing with your former
illustrious companions, who have appeared on your trial, the paths of
virtuous and loyal ambition,—it is with the most sensible pain I view
the contrast formed by your present degraded condition, and I will not
now point out how much these considerations enhance the nature of your
crime. I entreat of you, by those hopes of mercy which are closed in
this world, to revive in your mind a purpose to subdue that callous
insensibility of heart, of which, in an ill-fated hour, you have
boasted, and regain that sanative affection of the mind which may
prepare your soul for that salvation which, by the infinite mercy of
God, I beseech of that God you may obtain. As to you (naming the other
convicts), sad victims of his seduction and example, and of your own
wicked purposes; you who fall a melancholy, but, I trust, an
instructive, sacrifice, to deter others from the commission of similar
crimes, may you apply the little time you have to live in the repentant
contemplation of another world. Warned by your example, may the ignorant
and unthinking avoid those crimes which bring you to a shameful and
untimely end! May they learn duly to estimate the humble but secure
blessings of industry—blessings which, in an evil hour, you have cast
from you! The same recommendation offered to the leader of your crimes,
to prepare for the awful and near termination of your existence, I
earnestly impress upon you; and I repeat for you my ardent invocation of
mercy in a future state which the interest of your fellow-creatures will
not suffer to be extended to you here. The only thing now remaining for
me is the painful task of pronouncing against you, and each of you, the
awful sentence which the law denounces against your crime, which is,
that you, and each of you, (here his lordship named the prisoners
severally) be taken to the place from whence you came, and from thence
you are to be drawn on hurdles to the place of execution, where you are
to be hanged by the neck, but not until you are dead; for, while you are
still living, your bodies are to be taken down, your bowels torn out,
and burnt before your faces; your heads are to be then cut off, and your
bodies divided each into four quarters, to be at the king’s disposal;
and may the Almighty God have mercy on your souls.”

The whole of this sentence, which, as the punishment of treason,
disgraced our law even to a late period (until altered by the 54 George
III., c. 146), was too disgusting and cruel to be completely carried
out. The warrant which directed the execution of the unfortunate Despard
and his associates remitted the disembowelling and quartering. This
warrant was sent to the keeper of the new (Horsemonger Lane) gaol in the
Borough at six o’clock on Saturday evening, Feb. 19, and included seven
prisoners; three—Newman, Tyndall, and Lander—having been respited. As
soon as the warrant, which ordered the execution for the following
Monday, was received, it was communicated to the unhappy persons by the
keeper of the prison, Mr. Ives, with as much tenderness and humanity as
the awful nature of the case required. Colonel Despard observed that the
time was short; yet he had not had from the first any strong expectation
that the recommendation of the jury would be effectual. The mediation of
Lord Nelson and a petition to the Crown were tried; but Colonel Despard
was convinced, according to report, that they would be unavailing. Soon
after the arrival of the warrant all papers, and everything he
possessed, were immediately taken from the colonel. The colonel’s
devoted wife, a lady of Honduras, whom he had married while in his
command there, was fearfully affected when she first heard his doom was
sealed, but afterwards recovered her fortitude. The colonel and Mrs.
Despard supported themselves with great firmness at parting on the
Saturday; and when she got into the coach that drove her away she waved
her handkerchief out of the window. The other prisoners bore their sad
lot with equal fortitude, but conducted themselves with less solemnity
than the colonel. Their wives and near relatives were allowed to take a
farewell of them on the same day; and the scene was truly distressing.

At daylight on Sunday morning, the drop, scaffold, and gallows, on which
they were to be executed were erected oh the top of the gaol. The Bow
Street patrol and many other peace officers were on duty all day and
night, and the military near London were drawn up close to the prison.
Mrs. Despard took final leave of her husband at three in the afternoon,
yet came again at five o’clock, but it was thought advisable to spare
the colonel the pang of a second parting, and she was, therefore, not
admitted into his cell. She evinced some indignation, and expressed a
strong opinion with respect to the cause for which her husband was to
suffer. After she had left the colonel at three o’clock, he walked up
and down his cell for some time, seemingly more agitated than he had
been at the actual moment of taking leave of her. Between six and seven
in the evening he threw himself on the bed, and fell into a short sleep.
At eight he awoke and addressed one of the officers of the prison, who
was with him, in these words:—“Me—they shall receive no information from
me; no, not for all the gifts, the gold, and jewels, in the possession
of the Crown!” He then composed himself, and remained silent. Seven
shells or coffins to receive the bodies, were brought into the prison,
and also two large bags filled with sawdust, and the block on which they
were to be beheaded. At four o’clock the next morning, February 21, the
drum beat at the Horse Guards as a signal for the troops to assemble. In
fact, the military force present on the occasion, like every other
proceeding of Government in this affair, was most imposing. At six
o’clock the Life-guards arrived, and took their station at the end of
the different roads at the Obelisk, in St. George’s Fields; whilst all
the officers from Bow Street, Queen’s Square, Marlborough Street, Hatton
Garden, Worship Street, Whitechapel, Shadwell, and other localities
attended. There were parties of the Life-guards riding up and down the
roads. At half-past six the prison bell rang—the signal for unlocking
the cells. At seven o’clock five of the men—Broughton, Francis, Graham,
Wood, and Wratten—went into the chapel, with the Rev. Mr. Winkworth.
Macnamara, being of another persuasion, and Despard, being in his
craziness an infidel, did not join them. The five attended to the
prayers with great earnestness, but at the same time without seeming to
lose that firmness they had displayed since their trial. Before they
received the sacrament, four of them confessed they had done wrong, but
not to the extent charged against them by the evidence. The fifth,
Graham, said he was innocent of the charges brought against him, but had
attended two meetings at the instigation of Francis. For some time the
clergyman refused to administer the sacrament to Francis, because he
persisted in declaring he had been guilty of no crime. The clergyman
said to him, “You admit you attended the meetings.” He replied, “Yes.”
“You knew they were for the purpose of overturning the constitution of
the country. I by no means wish you to enter into particulars, I only
wish you to acknowledge generally.” Francis answered, “I admit I have
done wrong in attending those meetings.” The clergyman then asked each
of them how they found themselves? Francis, Wood, Broughton, and Wratten
said, “They were never happier in their lives.” Graham remained silent.
The sacrament was administered to them all.

Colonel Despard and Macnamara were then brought down from their cells,
their irons knocked off, and their arms bound with ropes. The sheriff
asked Colonel Despard if he could render him any service. The colonel
thanked him, and replied that he could not. Upon the colonel coming out,
he shook hands very cordially with his solicitor, and returned him many
thanks for his kind attention; then, observing the sledge and apparatus,
he smilingly cried out, “Ha! ha! what nonsensical mummery is this?”
Notice being given that all was ready, the colonel, who stood the first,
retired behind, and mentioned to Francis, who was making way for him, to
go before him. The hurdle, being a body of a small cart, on which two
trusses of clean straw were laid, was drawn by two horses.

When the melancholy procession began, which was at half-past eight
o’clock precisely, Macnamara was the first that came out. Colonel
Despard was the last that appeared. He was dressed in a blue
double-breasted coat, with gilt buttons; cream-coloured waistcoat, with
narrow gold-lace binding; a flannel inside vest, with scarlet top turned
over; grey breeches, long boots, and a brown surtout. He stepped into
the hurdle with much fortitude, having an executioner on the right and
on the left, and on the same seat, with drawn cutlasses. He was thus
conducted to the outer lodge, whence he ascended the staircase leading
to the place of execution.

As soon as the prisoners were placed on the hurdle, St. George’s bell
tolled for some time. They were preceded by the Sheriff, Sir R. Ford,
the Protestant clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Winkworth, and a Catholic
clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Griffith, who attended Macnamara, who was a
Catholic. The coffins, or shells, which had been previously placed in a
room under the scaffold, were then brought up and put on the platform on
which the drop was erected; the bags of sawdust to catch the blood when
the heads were severed from the bodies were laid beside them. The block
was near the scaffold; there were about a hundred spectators on the
platform, among whom were some persons of distinction; the greatest
order was observed. Macnamara was the first on the platform, and when
the cord was placed round his neck he exclaimed, “Lord Jesus, have mercy
upon me! O Lord, look down with pity upon me!” The populace were much
struck by his appearance. Graham came second: he looked pale and
ghastly, but spoke not. Wratten was the third: he ascended the scaffold
with much firmness. Broughton, the fourth, joined in prayer with much
earnestness. Wood was the fifth, and Francis the sixth. They were all
equally composed.

Colonel Despard ascended the scaffold with great firmness, and his
countenance underwent not the slightest change while the dread ceremony
of fastening the rope round his neck and placing the cap on his head was
performing; he even assisted the executioner in adjusting the rope: he
looked at the multitude assembled with perfect calmness. The Protestant
clergyman, who came upon the scaffold after the prisoners were tied up,
spoke to him a few words as he passed; the Colonel bowed and thanked
him. The ceremony of fastening the prisoners being finished, the colonel
advanced as near as he could to the edge of the scaffold, and made the
following speech to the multitude:—

“Fellow Citizens,—I come here, as you see, after having served my
country—faithfully, honourably, and usefully served it for thirty years
and upwards—to suffer death upon a scaffold for a crime of which I
protest I am not guilty. I solemnly declare that I am no more guilty of
it than any of you who may be now hearing me. But though his Majesty’s
ministers know as well as I do that I am not guilty, yet they avail
themselves of a legal pretext to destroy a man because he has been a
friend to truth, to liberty, and justice.”

There was a considerable huzza from part of the populace the nearest to
him, but who, from the height of the scaffold from the ground, could
not, for a certainty, distinctly hear what was said. The colonel
proceeded:

“Because he has been a friend to the poor and distressed. But, citizens,
I hope and trust, notwithstanding my fate, and the fate of those who no
doubt will soon follow me, that the principles of freedom, of humanity,
and of justice, will finally triumph over falsehood, tyranny, and
delusion, and every principle hostile to the interests of the human
race. And now, having said this, I have little more to add——”

The colonel’s voice seemed to falter here; he paused a moment, as if he
had meant to say something more, and had forgotten it. He then concluded
in the following manner:—

“I have little more to add, except to wish you all health, happiness,
and freedom, which I have endeavoured, as far as was in my power, to
procure for you, and for mankind in general.”

The colonel spoke in a firm and audible tone of voice: he left off
sooner than was expected. There was no public expression, either of
approbation or disapprobation, given when he had concluded his address.
As soon as the colonel ceased speaking, the Protestant clergyman prayed
with five of the prisoners, and the Catholic priest with Macnamara.
However, to the very last, Colonel Despard obstinately refused all
clerical assistance, nor would he even join in the Lord’s Prayer. The
executioner pulled the caps over the faces of the unhappy persons, and
descended the scaffold. Most of them exclaimed, “Lord Jesus, receive our
souls!” At seven minutes before nine o’clock the signal was given, the
platform dropped, and they were all launched into eternity. After
hanging about half an hour till they were quite dead, they were cut
down. Colonel Despard was first cut down, his body placed upon the
sawdust, and his head upon a block; after his coat and waistcoat had
been taken off, his head was severed from his body by persons engaged
for the purpose. The executioner then took the head by the hair, and
carrying it to the edge of the parapet on the right hand, and on the
left, held it up at each edge to the view of the populace, and exclaimed
each time, “This is the head of a traitor, Edward Marcus Despard.”

Despard’s remains were then put into the shell that had been prepared
for them. The other prisoners were also cut down, their heads severed
from their bodies, and exhibited to the populace with the exclamation of
“This is the head of another traitor,” adding the name. The bodies were,
like Despard’s, put into their respective shells, and delivered to their
friends for interment.

The execution was over by ten o’clock, and the populace soon after
dispersed quietly. The remains of the six common men were deposited in
one grave in the vault under the Rev. Mr. Harper’s chapel, in the London
Road, St. George’s Fields. The body of Colonel Despard was taken from
Mount-street, Lambeth, on the 1st of March, in a hearse drawn by four
horses, followed by three mourning coaches, with four gentlemen in each,
and was interred in the cemetery belonging to the parish of St. Faith,
on the south side of St. Paul’s Cathedral. A great crowd collected, and
the City Marshal, with a guard, was present, lest there should be any
disturbance; but all went off peaceably.

The _Times_ of Monday, Feb. 28, 1803, thus refers to the burying of
Despard’s remains:—“The interment of Colonel Despard to-morrow will
depend upon the arrival of his son, who has been sent for to France to
be present on the occasion. This young gentleman is of respectable
character, and has been in Paris about three months, with his wife. He
was an ensign in Ireland, and was left a comfortable maintenance by his
grandfather.”

The melancholy state of infidelity exhibited by Colonel Despard on the
scaffold formed a theme for the pulpit. I find, among the reviews in the
_Gentleman’s Magazine_, of 1804, the following notice:—“A Sermon on the
depravity of the Human Heart, exemplified, generally, in the conduct of
the Jews, and particularly in that of Lieutenant-Colonel Despard,
previous to his execution; preached at St. George’s, Hanover Square,
Feb. 27, 1803, by the Rev. William Leigh, LL.D., morning preacher at the
aforesaid church, and rector of Little Plumstead, Norfolk.” In this
sermon occur the following passages:—

“The depravity of the human heart, from the creation to the present
moment, is the strongest proof of the freedom of human agency and the
origin of evil. Good and evil are set before man, and his choice is
uninfluenced, and free. ‘But, alas! how vain is the strength of man! How
imperfect are his best resolutions! How prevalent his inclinations to
commit sin! and how sturdy his self-justification after he has committed
it!... It is the miserable pride of modern reformers, to be equally
independent of God and of man; to live without fear, and to die without
compunction. The circumstances which marked the last moments of Colonel
Despard, his refusal of the sacrament, his rejection of all spiritual
consolation, and that of his dying with a lie in his mouth, are such as
must fill every religious mind with lamentation and horror.’”

The trial of Colonel Despard presents coincidences with that of Governor
Wall, that preceded it. Both Wall and Despard were men of family, and
both came from nearly the same part of Ireland; both, by their own
merit, rose to be colonels and governors of colonies, and both were
eventually hanged in London—the one in the spring of 1802, and the other
in the spring of 1803, and formed melancholy but happily very rare
instances of military officers of rank suffering, for disgraceful
offences, the extreme penalty of the law.

Another coincidence may be mentioned. The Hon. Spencer Percival, who was
the Attorney-General at this trial, fell, in a few years afterwards, the
victim of an assassin, Bellingham, who was a kind of lunatic like
Despard, and had a similar real or ideal cause of grievance—viz.,
inattention of the Government to the application or complaint he was
making.

The learned and popular writer whom I have already quoted, Mr. Timbs,
F.S.A., in his “Curiosities of London,” thus points out, near the
now-called Victoria Theatre, the scene of Despard’s conspiracy: “In
Oakley Street, at the Oakley Arms, November 16, 1802, Colonel Edward
Marcus Despard and thirty-two other persons were apprehended on a charge
of high treason; and in February following, the colonel, with nine of
his associates, were tried by a special commission at the Surrey
Sessions House: and being all found guilty, seven, including Despard,
were executed February 21, on the top of Horsemonger Lane Gaol.” Mr.
Timbs further shows the spot to have been part of, or proximate to, the
notorious “Pedlar’s Acre” scene of many a misdeed and crime.

To the honour of the Despard family, it may be mentioned that its
loyalty was no wise diminished by this, to say the least of it, when one
considers the obvious state of his mind and the absurdity of his
treason, very severe measure of justice dealt out to the unhappy
colonel. His relatives continued to act gallantly and devotedly in the
service of their country. Of the sons of his brother, Captain Philip
Despard, one, at the age of thirty-one, Lieut.-Colonel William Despard,
7th Fusiliers, fell at the Pyrenees in the Peninsular War; and another,
Henry Despard, rose by his own merit to be a general in the army and
colonel of the 99th Regiment. Killaghy, the seat of the Despards, in the
County Tipperary, was sold by William Despard (father of the colonel of
the trial) to his brother, Francis Green Despard, Esq., and the property
descended eventually to Francis’s great granddaughter, Catherine
Despard, wife of William Wright, Esq., who assumed by royal licence, in
1838, the surname and arms of Despard.




                           THE COURT-MARTIAL


OF

VICE-ADMIRAL CALDER.

The trial of that distinguished naval commander, Sir Robert Calder,
Bart., Vice-Admiral of the White, differed from those of Byng,
Sackville, and Keppel, in this, that it was not set on foot by an angry
or partial Government, but arose entirely from the over sensitiveness of
the gallant admiral himself, who could not submit to some unfavourable
remarks which were made on his conduct for not pushing to the utmost the
victory he had gained. He had defeated, in a great naval encounter, the
combined fleets of France and Spain; but he had not completely crushed
the enemy. Unfortunately, this occurred in the very centre of Nelson’s
triumphs, when not only that hero, but the whole British people might,
to use Napoleon’s term, be called “the spoilt children of victory.”
Calder, it was admitted, had acted with courage and sagacity; but he had
not shown the peculiar—the almost supernatural daring of Nelson: hence
the general murmur. Nelson himself told him not to mind the outcry, but
to fight on. He unwisely did not follow the advice, but called for a
court-martial, and brought upon himself a sad and unforeseen result.
Before coming to the affair, a word or two of Calder’s previous career
is necessary. He was a man of good birth and ancient lineage, being the
second son of Sir James Calder, third Baronet of Muirtoune, the head of
a very old family in Morayshire. He was born at his father’s house at
Elgin, the 2nd July, 1745, and, when fourteen years of age, was a
midshipman in the Royal navy. He rose in his profession with slow but
well-earned promotion, until he was looked on as one of the bravest and
safest officers of his day. He won his earlier laurels under Kempenfelt,
Roddam (his brother-in-law), and Howe; and his conduct at the battle of
St. Vincent obtained for him knighthood, and subsequently, in 1798, a
baronetcy. Such was the seaman whose next victory was to be the cause of
his undoing. Of the actual naval action and its consequences in bringing
about the trial, I take the following lucid account from that excellent
manual “British Naval Biography:”

“Calder was selected, in 1805, by Admiral the Hon. (afterwards Sir)
William Cornwallis (the illustrious Marquess Cornwallis’s youngest
brother), who then commanded the Channel fleet, to blockade the harbours
of Ferrol and Corunna. The force entrusted to him on this occasion was
very inadequate; for, although there were then five French ships of the
line and three frigates, and five Spanish line-of-battle ships and four
frigates, all ready for sea, in these ports, yet he had only seven sail
allotted to him; these, indeed, were afterwards increased to nine; but
although he repeatedly requested two frigates and some smaller vessels,
they never were sent to him. He, however, retained his station,
notwithstanding the manœuvres of the Brest fleet; and on being joined by
Rear-Admiral Stirling, on the 16th of July, with five sail of the line
from before Rochfort, together with a frigate and a lugger, he proceeded
to sea, for the express purpose of intercepting the French and Spanish
squadrons from the West Indies, which were supposed to consist of no
more than sixteen capital ships. Soon after this the combined fleet, of
twenty sail of the line, seven frigates, and two brigs, were descried;
while the English force amounted to no more than fifteen ships of the
line, two frigates, a cutter, and a lugger.[21]

“Although the disparity on this occasion was sufficiently startling, Sir
Robert did not hesitate in determining to bring the enemy to action.
This battle, which gave rise to so much discussion, occurred in lat. 43°
30′ north, and long. 11° 17′ west, or about 40 leagues from Ferrol, on
the 22nd of July. The British Vice-Admiral formed his fleet in compact
order, and made a signal to attack the centre of the enemy; upon which
the _Hero_, of 74 guns, that led the van squadron, fetched close up
under the lee of the combined fleet, so that when our headmost ships had
reached the enemy’s centre, their vessels tacked in succession, which
obliged Sir Robert to perform the same evolution. The battle that
immediately followed lasted upwards of four hours, and the enemy,
notwithstanding their great superiority of numbers, and every advantage
of wind and weather, lost two large Spanish ships, the _Rafael_, of 84,
and the _Ferme_, of 76 guns.

“A heavy fog had prevailed during the greater part of the day; and a
short time after the engagement commenced, it became so dense, that the
English commander was scarcely able to see his ships ahead or astern, by
which he was prevented from following up his advantage. This, in all
probability, saved the enemy from total defeat. As it was, Sir Robert
did not judge it prudent to hazard his fleet under such circumstances;
and afraid, perhaps, of risking the advantage he had already acquired,
he brought-to, in order to cover his prizes. The French and Spanish
fleet could have renewed the engagement, during the two days that
followed, having the advantage of the windward, and the British
repeatedly, by hauling on the wind, incited them to the conflict, but
this M. Villeneuve as constantly declined (and thus reserved himself for
a worse fate at Trafalgar). On the 24th the wind changed, by which the
British had the weather-gauge; but Sir Robert Calder, not thinking it
advisable to assume offensive measures, the two hostile fleets
separated.

“The vice-admiral was not only conscious that he had done his duty in
this affair, but also merited the approbation of his country. He had
kept the sea with a very inadequate force, instead of returning into
port; he had successfully blockaded a greatly superior fleet for nearly
five months; and at sea, he had fought a battle, and captured two large
ships, under circumstances where not to be defeated was equal to the
honour of a victory. The advantage lay so wholly on his side that the
adversary, although repeatedly menacing a farther trial, had been
content to forego the opportunity, and at last to sheer off. All this
was rightly appreciated by his commander-in-chief, Admiral Cornwallis,
who sent him back to Ferrol on the 17th, with twenty sail of the line.
But, unfortunately, a different estimate of these circumstances was
formed at home. The nation had lately been pampered with naval
victories; the Lords of the Admiralty murmured; and, because the enemy
had not been completely worsted, it was alleged that the honour of the
British flag had been sullied. Bitter representations to this effect
were set forth in the public prints; and when these reached the
vice-admiral, their effects on his honourable spirit may be easily
imagined. He immediately demanded a public trial from the Lords of the
Admiralty; and, in spite of the solicitations of Nelson, who besought
him to remain, and share in those approaching triumphs of the fleet by
which every calumny would be refuted, he returned to Spithead in the
_Prince of Wales_, on board of which a court-martial assembled on the
23rd of December, 1805.”

The officers who sat on the court-martial were George Montagu, Admiral
of the White, and Commander of His Majesty’s ships and vessels at
Portsmouth and Spithead, President. Vice-Admirals: John Holloway,
Bartholomew Samuel Rowley, and Edward Thornborough. Rear-Admirals: Sir
Isaac Coffin, Bart., and John Sutton. Captains: James Bissett, Robert
Dudley Oliver, John Irwin, James Athol Wood, John Seater, the Hon.
Thomas Bladen Capel, and John Larmour. M. Greetham, Deputy-Judge
Advocate of the fleet, conducted the prosecution.

The court being opened, Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Calder being called in,
entered, attended by the Deputy-Marshal of the Admiralty.

The Order for the trial, dated the 15th of November, 1805, and directed
to George Montagu, Esq., Admiral of the White, and Commander-in-Chief of
Her Majesty’s ships and vessels at Portsmouth and Spithead, was read,
and was as follows:—

_By the Commissioners for Executing the Office of Lord High Admiral of
the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, &c._—Whereas Sir Robert
Calder, Bart., Vice-Admiral of the Blue, hath, by his letter to our
Secretary, dated the 30th of September last, requested, for the reasons
therein mentioned, that an inquiry may be made into his (the said
vice-admiral’s) conduct, on the 23rd of July last, the day after his
engagement with the combined fleets of France and Spain, or, upon the
whole, or such part thereof (when in presence of the enemy) as shall
appear for the good of His Majesty’s service, and for enabling him to
give his reasons publicly for his conduct on that occasion:

And whereas we have thought fit, in compliance with the vice-admiral’s
request, and for the reasons mentioned in his said letter, that a
court-martial shall be assembled for the purpose above-mentioned, and
also for inquiring into the whole of the said vice-admiral’s conduct and
proceedings on the said 23rd of July last, and into his subsequent
conduct and proceedings until he finally lost sight of the enemy’s
ships: And to try him for not having done his utmost to renew the said
engagement, and to take or destroy every ship of the enemy, which it was
his duty to engage: We send you herewith, Sir Robert Calder’s
above-mentioned letter of the 30th of September last, and do hereby
require and direct you to assemble a court-martial, as soon as the
witnesses deemed necessary to be examined on this occasion shall be
ready, which court (you being President thereof) is hereby required and
directed to inquire into the conduct and proceedings of the said
Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Calder, with His Majesty’s squadron under his
command, on the said 23rd of July last, and also into his subsequent
conduct and proceedings, until he finally lost sight of the enemy’s
ships, and to try him for not having done his utmost to renew the said
engagement, and to take and destroy every ship of the enemy, which it
was his duty to engage accordingly.

Given under our hands, the 15th of November, 1805.

                            BARHAM.      J. GAMBIER.      PHILIP PATTON.
                                By command of their Lordships,
                                                    W. MARSDEN.

After the Members of the Court and the Deputy Judge-Advocate of the
fleet were severally sworn, the President then said: Sir Robert Calder,
one of your witnesses, Captain Prowse, is absent, are you willing that
the court should proceed without him, or would you wish the trial to be
postponed? And Sir Robert Calder answering that he wished the trial to
proceed, his letter of the 30th of September to the Secretary of the
Admiralty, desiring the inquiry, was then read, and was as follows:—


                                      “PRINCE OF WALES,” off Cadiz,
                                                  “_September 30, 1805_.

  “Sir,—Having learnt with astonishment, yesterday, by the ships just
  arrived, and by letters from my friends in England, that there has
  been a most unjust and wicked endeavour to prejudice the public mind
  against me as an officer, and that my conduct on the 23rd of last
  July, in particular, has been animadverted on, in the most unjust and
  illiberal manner; for such it must be deemed, having been done at a
  time when I was absent abroad, employed in the service of my king and
  country.

  “I must, therefore, request you will be pleased to move the Lords
  Commissioners of the Admiralty to grant an inquiry into my conduct on
  the 23rd July last, or upon the whole, or such part of it (when in
  presence of the enemy), as shall appear to their lordships, for the
  good of His Majesty’s service, and for the purpose of enabling me to
  give my reasons, publicly, for my conduct at that time, and to refute
  such unjust, illiberal, and unfounded assertions, when I trust I shall
  make it appear to the satisfaction of my King, country, and friends,
  that no part of my conduct and character, as an officer, will be found
  deserving of those unfavourable impressions, which, at present, occupy
  the public mind, being conscious that everything in my power, as an
  officer, was done for the honour and welfare of my king and country,
  after a very mature investigation of all the existing circumstances,
  and the very critical situation I was placed in, with the squadron I
  had the honour to command, at the time alluded to.

                                                 “I am, Sir,
                                     “Your most obedient humble servant,
                                                         “R. CALDER.”

  “William Marsden, Esq.,
      “Admiralty.”


The trial then proceeded: the witnesses were, of course, chiefly the
admirals and captains who had acted under him in the engagement. The
point at issue was brief, and simply this: Did or did not the admiral do
his best to renew the battle which had already gone in his favour? The
witnesses for the prosecution inferred, rather than positively said, he
did not; the witnesses for Calder, to a man, asserted that a renewal of
the fight was beyond his power.

The following are the mainly pertinent and interesting portions of the
evidence for the prosecution:—

Rear-Admiral Charles Stirling, who in “the _Glory_,” shared in the
action, showed in his testimony a bias against Calder. He was asked:—

_Q._ Did the vice-admiral make any signal, or show any disposition to
endeavour to renew the action?

_A._ I have before stated, that it appeared to me, that the admiral’s
object was to keep company with the crippled ships on that day; and I
saw no other signal indicative of an intention to renew the combat,
after he had asked, if any of the ships wanted to lay to.

_Q._ Did the vice-admiral take any steps to direct the British fleet to
bear up after the enemy on the 24th?

_A._ The British fleet continued standing from the enemy from the time I
before mentioned that we were.

_Q._ Could the British fleet have pursued the enemy with advantage on
the 24th, they steering to the southward and by east, and the wind being
N. and by E.?

_A._ I don’t know any objection to the British fleet following the
enemy, if the admiral had thought proper to do so.

_Q._ Did the vice-admiral at any time on the 24th show any disposition
to renew the action?

_A._ I think that question answered by the preceding one.

_Court._—That is a specific question.

_A._ We continued, as I said before, to steer from the enemy.

_Q._ Did the vice-admiral, according to your remarks and observations,
do everything that might have been done to renew the action, and to take
and destroy every ship which it was his duty to engage?

_A._ We never attempted to renew the action, or laid our heads towards
the enemy, as I have said before; it appeared to me the admiral’s object
was to cover the crippled ships.

_Court._—At the time the British fleet bore down to the crippled ships,
in what state was the _Windsor Castle_?

_A._ She appeared to have lost her fore-top-mast, and not able to make
sail.

_Q._ What other ships of the British fleet were unable to keep company
with the vice-admiral, had he endeavoured to bring the enemy to action?

_A._ I don’t know that any other ship was disabled.

Sir R. Calder cross-examined Admiral Stirling thus:

_Q._ Did you receive a letter from me, on service, after the action?

_A._ Yes; I had two letters from Sir Robert Calder, after the action, on
service, of different dates.

_Q._ Did the first give any reason, and what, for standing to the
northward, with the _Windsor Castle_ and prizes.

_A._ I have the letter here.

_Court._—That will be most satisfactory.

The letter was then read.

                                     “PRINCE OF WALES,” at Sea,
                                                     “_24th July, 1805_.

“My dear Sir,—Permit me to return you my most heartfelt thanks for your
unremitting attentions, and for the very gallant support you rendered me
during the whole of the action on the 22nd instant. Had the weather been
favourable, and we could have seen to have made the necessary signals,
to have availed ourselves of some of the mistakes of the enemy, I am
fully convinced we should have made the victory much more complete. I
was obliged to stand to the northward thus far, in order to cover the
_Windsor Castle_, and the two captured ships. I think they are now safe
from the combined, as well as the Rochefort squadron, and I am going
back to Cape Finisterre, in hopes of seeing Lord Nelson; if I do not, I
shall proceed off Ferrol, to see if any favourable opportunity should
offer, when I may hope to attack the enemy with advantage. Wishing us
all possible success,

                                       “I am, my dear Stirling,
                                   “Ever yours most truly and sincerely,
                                       “(Signed) ROBERT CALDER.”

Sir Robert Calder produced a letter, and said, is this the answer to
that letter?

_A._ It is not the answer, but is written in reply. I sent, by the same
conveyance, a letter to the vice-admiral on public service.

_Sir Robert Calder._—You will observe they are not of the same date—one
is the 24th, the other the 25th.

The letter from Rear-Admiral Stirling was then read.

                                              “GLORY, _25th July, 1805_.

“My dear Sir,—I thank you much for your letter of yesterday; and can
assure you, with great truth, I meant, and do mean to give you all the
support in my power.

I hope you made a good tale to please John Bull, for you had a good
subject to write on; and I think you have convinced Mons. Bonaparte that
he cannot always get to sea and home again with impunity.

                                      Excuse haste, and believe me,
                                                      Most truly yours,
                                          (Signed)      CHAS. STIRLING.”

  “Sir Robert Calder, Bart.”

_A._ I should not have written so to my commanding officer, on public
business: that was a private letter.

A conversation took place about the reading the public letter.

_Sir Robert Calder._—“I have no wish that any paper should be withheld;
but, if the rear-admiral has any objection, I do not wish this should be
read.”

_Rear-Admiral Stirling._—“I have no objection.”

The letter was then read.

                                             “GLORY,” _24th July, 1805_.

“My dear Sir,—I congratulate you on the capture of the two Spaniards
from a force so very superior to that opposed to it, and I think, if the
three ships, which at one time showed a disposition to support them, had
followed the intention, the consequence might have been decisive.

“The great object I had in view was to obey your orders, by keeping in a
compact line, whilst the signal for that purpose remained in force, and
therefore, as the _Raisonable_ closed with you, my captain took care
that nothing could pass between her and this ship.

“On the surrender of the Spaniards, I directed the _Warrior_ to send and
assist in taking possession, and afterwards sent similar orders to the
_Thunderer_, as there was no knowing, from the thickness of the weather,
what might otherwise be the consequence, if your attention was confined
to the van. I likewise ordered the _Egyptienne_, when I got sight of
her, to get the prizes on the same tack with us, and to tow them to
leeward of our line, which orders will, I hope, meet with your
approbation. I know not why there was a separation in the night. Captain
Linzee went in pursuance of his instructions, and rejoined me before the
morning.

“We had only one man killed, and four wounded; the fore-yard was grazed,
which we have fished; and what was otherwise hit, was not of any
consequence.

“I have great pleasure of bearing testimony to the zeal of Captain
Warren and his officers, and feel much confidence from the good conduct
of the crew belonging to the ship where my flag is flying, if our good
fortune should again lead us against the foes of our country.

                               “Believe me, with great esteem, dear Sir,
                                   “Your most obedient humble servant,
                                       “(Signed) CHARLES STIRLING.”

  “Sir Robert Calder, Bart.”

_Rear-Admiral Stirling._—I believe that letter was sent to the admiral
on the 25th, and I had the honour to wait upon him in the afternoon, by
his permission; and to the best of my recollection that was my reason
for not returning an official answer. I do not recollect any other
communication with the admiral, from about midnight of the 22nd.

_Q._ Did I not always place the British squadron between the enemy and
the _Windsor Castle_ and prizes, when they were in tow?

_A._ The British fleet was always between them.

_Q._ Was not the British squadron always placed by me between that of
the enemy and the port of Ferrol, while the enemy remained in sight?

_A._ The British fleet was nearer to Ferrol than the enemy, till they
crossed our stern on the 24th.

_Q._ When they crossed our stern could the enemy have fetched Ferrol?

_A._ I do not think they could, as we had the wind.

_Court._—What distance was the British fleet from Rochefort, on the
morning after the action?

_A._ I don’t know; the chart will tell. By my master’s reckoning, Cape
Finisterre bore S.E. and by E. forty leagues.

Rear-Admiral George Martin, who was captain of the _Barfleur_ in the
action, was asked,—

Considering the wind, and the relative situation of the two fleets,
during the 23rd of July, could the British fleet have neared the enemy,
and renewed the engagement?

_A._ The enemy being rather abaft the beam, the British fleet would have
neared the enemy had they tacked. But whether they could have renewed
the engagement, I cannot say. That must, in great measure, have depended
on the enemy, they being to windward.

_Q._ Did the vice-admiral make any signal, or show any disposition to
renew the action on that day?

_A._ No.

Sir Robert Calder put in the following paper, which was read:—

“I admit I did not show any such disposition, except by hauling my wind
when the enemy bore down, as by doing so I must have separated myself
from the crippled ships and prizes.”

Rear-Admiral Martin was further asked,—

Did the vice-admiral, from your remarks and observation, do everything
in his power, that he might have done, from the morning of the 23rd,
till you lost sight of the enemy, to renew the engagement, and to take
and destroy every ship which it was his duty to engage?

_A._ I consider I have answered that question by saying on neither day
did he stand towards the enemy.

Sir Robert cross examined Admiral Martin:—

_Q._ Could I have pursued the enemy on the morning of the 24th, without
separating the rest of the squadron from the _Windsor Castle_ and
prizes, and from the frigates which had them in tow?

_A._ Certainly not, without separating from the prizes; and not under a
press of sail, without separating from the _Windsor Castle_.

_Q._ Did I not always place myself between the enemy and the _Windsor
Castle_ and crippled ships, while in tow?

_A._ It appeared to me to be the intention of Sir Robert Calder to keep
company with them, from the time of the action, till they separated by
signal.

_Q._ You understood that for their protection?

_A._ Certainly.

_Q._ Was not the British squadron always placed by me between the enemy
and the port of Ferrol, as long as the enemy remained in sight?

_A._ We certainly were between them; but whether the position was taken
for that purpose or not, I cannot say.

Captain Philip Charles Durham, of the _Defiance_; Captain Henry Inman,
of the _Triumph_, who were also both in the action, were the other two
principal witnesses; their testimony did not add much to the weight of
the prosecution. After their evidence was given, the court adjourned to
Thursday, the 26th of December, 1805, when Sir Robert Calder delivered
in his defence, and requested that it might be read by a friend (Mr.
Gaselee),[22] and the court intimating their consent, the same was read.
It opened thus:—

“MR. PRESIDENT, AND GENTLEMEN OF THE COURT,—I appear before you in a
singular, I may almost say an unprecedented, situation. Having served my
king and country, not only without reproach, but, I may add, with some
degree of reputation, for upwards of forty-six years, during which I
have been more than once honoured with marks of approbation from my
sovereign; having for the last ten months been employed on a most severe
and critical service, without once being in port; and having in the
course of it, with a very inferior fleet, forced a superior one of the
enemy, who had the advantage of wind and situation, into action, and
obtained a decisive victory over them, I felt myself impelled to solicit
the present inquiry, for the purpose of vindicating my honour and my
character from a variety of injurious and unfounded aspersions which
have been cast upon me, in consequence of the not having renewed the
engagement during the two days that the enemy afterwards remained in
sight. The consciousness of my having done my duty, would, however, have
induced me to treat these aspersions with contempt, had they not become
so general that I was apprehensive that silence on my part would be
construed into an acknowledgment of their truth, and an admission of my
own misconduct; I found myself, therefore, under the necessity of
applying to the Lords of the Admiralty, to order an inquiry into my
conduct, that I might be enabled to state publicly the reasons which
actuated it throughout, and to refute the illiberal and unfounded
assertions which had been made against me. To this they have been
pleased to assent; and although, in a subsequent letter of the 10th of
November to that which accompanies the order for your assembling, I
requested that the court might be empowered ‘to inquire into the whole
of my conduct, even prior to my falling in with the enemy, while in
their presence, and subsequent thereto,’ they have thought it right to
confine it to _the 23rd of July, and my subsequent conduct and
proceedings_, until I finally lost sight of the enemy’s ships, and to
direct me to be tried for not having done my utmost to renew the
engagement, and to take and destroy every ship of the enemy, which the
charge asserts it was my duty to engage. I consider this, therefore, as
a declaration by their lordships, that this is the only part of my
conduct upon which any particle of doubt can by possibility attach, or
of which any explanation can be requisite. At the same time, however, I
cannot but lament that the inquiry is so limited; as it prevents my
giving evidence of the circumstances of the action, which I have no
doubt I should have proved to have been such as to add to the reputation
of the British navy.

“As to defending myself against this charge, I trust I shall be able to
satisfy the court and the public, that the not renewing the engagement,
if it was practicable to have done it, was not only justifiable, but the
most proper and prudent course, under all the circumstances, to be
adopted; and that the attempting to force a renewal of the action, might
not only have endangered the safety of my own fleet, but eventually that
of the country itself; I shall request the indulgence of the court, to
be permitted to enter fully into all the circumstances, and to lay
before them the particular situation in which I was placed, the orders I
had from time to time received, and the reasons which induced me not to
attempt a renewal of the action; confident that when I have done so, all
the prejudices that have been hitherto entertained, will be dissipated,
and that by your judgment I shall be restored to the good opinion of my
country,—that country for which I have bled, and for which I have
conquered.

“Before, however, I enter into the particular statement, permit me to
make an observation or two on the specific charge, which is the
principal object of your inquiry. It does not range itself precisely
within any of the Articles of War, though it in part adopts the language
of one of them. It assumes as a principle, that it was my duty to renew
the engagement, and to endeavour to take or destroy every ship of the
enemy.

“I am ready to admit, that it is so much the duty of an officer to
engage the enemy wherever he meets with them, that it is incumbent upon
him to explain satisfactorily why he does not; but, in making that
explanation, it is not necessary for him to prove the physical
impossibility of doing so. It may be possible, and yet there may be very
many reasons why he should not. Indeed, the absurdity of a contrary
position is such, that it would be an idle waste of time to trouble the
court with many observations upon it.

“They will, however, permit me to observe, that mine is not the only
instance in which a British fleet has laid in sight of that of the enemy
without renewing the engagement.

“In proof of this assertion, if it be necessary, I need only recal to
your memory, out of many others, the example of two very great and
gallant officers, who after obtaining most brilliant victories over the
enemy, did not think themselves justified in bringing them a second time
to action, although they were in sight of them fully as long as I was.
The two meritorious officers to whom I allude are, Earl Howe, in the
action of the 1st of June, 1794, and Earl St. Vincent, in that of the
27th of February, 1797. Of the latter, I am competent to speak from my
own knowledge, having had the honour to serve under his lordship as
captain of the fleet in that engagement.

“Of the propriety of the conduct of these noble lords, in both
instances, no doubt has at any moment been entertained by any body. They
certainly exercised a sound discretion upon that occasion; but it may
not be improper for me to remark, that, although the advantages they had
acquired were certainly superior to mine; that mine was a situation in
which it was in every respect more necessary to exercise that
discretion, which, in every case, must be vested in the commander of a
squadron, to judge of the propriety or impropriety of offering battle to
a superior fleet. In the instances above-mentioned there was no other
force to contend with, no other quarter from which an attack was to be
apprehended, than the fleets which had been already engaged. In mine, it
behoved me to be particularly on my guard against the Ferrol and
Rochefort squadrons, consisting of twenty-one sail of the line, both
which, I had reason to believe, were out, and _one of which appears to
have been actually at sea_, and to which the squadron opposed to me
might easily have given notice of their situation, as will be hereafter
more fully stated.

“With these observations I shall dismiss this part of the case for the
present, and proceed to lay before the court a statement of the facts,
to which I am to request their serious attention.”

The Vice-Admiral then went into a complete detail of his conduct prior
to, at, and after the action. He thus referred to the actual battle:—

“On the 22nd of July, about noon, the combined squadrons came in sight.
Their force, consisting of _twenty sail of the line, seven frigates, and
two brigs_, a much greater force than, as I before stated, Admiral
Cornwallis supposed them to consist of. And it appears, from Lord
Gardner’s letter to me of the 6th of July, that when seen off the
Diamond Rock, at Martinique, on the 16th of May, they consisted of
sixteen sail of the line, and six frigates.

“My force consisted of _fifteen sail of the line, two frigates, the
Frisk cutter, and Nile lugger_.

“Notwithstanding this superiority, and notwithstanding they had the
advantage of the wind, I forced them to action. The general result of it
you are already acquainted with. As it is not particularly the object of
your inquiry, it is unnecessary to take up your time with observations
upon it.

“Amidst the numerous prejudices that have assailed me, I have never yet
heard the slightest insinuation to my disadvantage, either as to the
mode of the fleet being carried into, or conducted in action. The
victory certainly was ours, and most decisively so. I have only to
lament that the weather did not afford an opportunity of making it more
complete. Such was the valour and intrepidity of my second in command,
and of every officer and man of my squadron, that, but for the weather,
I am satisfied it would have been so. As it was, there are but few
instances, and those of modern date, in which _even equal_ numbers have
been so successful....”

His defence concluded thus:—

“The question before you is a great and momentous one,—it affects every
officer who has been, or at any time may be, in a situation of command.
Miserable, indeed, must be their condition if they are to be censured
for the fair and honest exercise of the discretion necessarily resulting
from such a situation. I have ever felt, that in my case, I have
exercised it wisely and beneficially; I still feel so, and were I again
placed in the same situation, I should act in the same manner; unless
this court, putting themselves in the situation I then was, and
considering all the circumstances that at that time presented themselves
to my consideration, and the various objects to which my attention was
necessarily directed, shall tell me I have acted erroneously. This I
trust they will not do.

“If, in the discussion of this question, I may be allowed to look to
subsequent events, they, I think, will fully justify the line of conduct
I adopted. By it I was enabled, after receiving a reinforcement, to
pursue the combined squadrons to Cadiz, and thereby perhaps to have laid
the foundation of that glorious victory (Trafalgar) which we have so
recently celebrated. Believe me, gentlemen, the circumstance of having,
by the various calumnies which have been spread, been put under the
necessity of soliciting the present enquiry, and thereby been prevented
from being a sharer in the glories of that day, has been no small
addition to the various sufferings I have undergone.

“These sufferings, I trust, will now have had their period, and the
opinion of this court will, I flatter myself, confirm me in that
estimation with the profession and the public, which I have for so many
years enjoyed, and to restore me unsullied that fair fame and reputation
which has on this occasion been so cruelly and unjustly attacked.”

In support of the defence, the Gazette and several official letters were
read, approving his conduct throughout the encounter. Nine officers, the
Hon. Captain Gardner, the Hon. Captain Legg, Captain Boyles, Captain
Lechmere, Captain Brown, Captain Cuming, Captain Griffiths, Captain
Elphinstone-Fleming, and Lieutenant Warrand, and the Rev. John Souter,
chaplain of the _Prince of Wales_ (Admiral Calder’s ship), all witnesses
of the engagement, spoke strongly in favour of the Vice Admiral, and
bore out the view that he could not renew the engagement. The evidence
of each is so nearly alike that I need here only give the statement of
one or two.

In Captain Lechmere’s examination Sir Robert Calder asked:—

_Q._ Did the enemy ever chase or make any attempt to force me to action
on the 23rd of July?

_A._ No.

_Q._ Could I have forced the enemy to action on the 23rd of July, if
they had chosen to avoid it?

_A._ No.

_Q._ Did the enemy appear to you to have sustained any considerable
damage to their masts and yards?

_A._ None in their masts. They shifted a top-sailyard or two, and that,
I believe, was the utmost.

_Q._ Was the British fleet always kept between the enemy and Ferrol as
long as they continued in sight?

_A._ Till the afternoon of the 24th we were always nearer Ferrol, than
the enemy was.

_Q._ Could they then have fetched Ferrol?

_A._ Certainly not, the wind was then N.E. and by E.

_Q._ If I had gone towards the enemy on the 24th, could I have overtaken
them, if they had chosen to avoid me, without approaching so near the
shore between Ferrol and Cape Finisterre, as to have enabled them to
have communicated by land signals with Ferrol?

_A._ No.

Captain W. Cuming, of the _Prince of Wales_, was asked by Sir Robert
Calder:—

_Q._ As you were near my person during the whole time of the action of
the 22nd, was any part of my conduct to be attributed to fear, or a want
of zeal for his majesty’s service?

_A._ Most certainly not.

_Court._—Captain Cuming, what number of the British ships appeared to
you, on the morning of the 24th, incapable of sailing in line-of-battle
or order of sailing?

_A._ I imagine the whole, except the _Windsor Castle_, might have been
formed in line-of-battle.

_Q._ If the _Windsor Castle_ had been taken in tow, considering the
relative situation of the two fleets, could the British squadron have
renewed the action on the 24th, the enemy declining so to do?

_A._ Certainly not.

_Q._ Did the vice-admiral decline the action, either on the 23rd or
24th, if the enemy had been inclined to renew it?

_A._ He did not.

_Sir R. Calder._—Mr. President, I conceive Captain Cuming to be the only
person competent to speak to the question I put to him, or I should have
no difficulty in submitting the same to every captain in the fleet.


Notwithstanding this testimony, and to the surprise of most present and
the public generally, the court came to an adverse decision. Its
judgment was this:—

“The court is of opinion, that the charge of not having done his utmost
to renew the said engagement, and to take or destroy every ship of the
enemy, has been proved against the said Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Calder,
that it appears that his conduct has not been actuated either by
cowardice or disaffection, but has risen solely from error in judgment,
and is highly censurable, and doth adjudge him to be severely
reprimanded; and the said Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Calder is hereby
severely reprimanded accordingly.”

The _Gentleman’s Magazine_ of the time thus records the effect of this
judgment upon Calder:

“Upon the sentence being pronounced, Sir Robert Calder appeared deeply
affected—he turned round, and retired without a word. He was accompanied
by a great number of friends, and, on descending from the deck of the
_Prince of Wales_ into his barge, scarcely lifted up his head, which was
apparently bowed down by the weight of the sentence upon him. He is in
his sixtieth year; forty-six of which he has passed in the service of
his country.”

This judgment of the court-martial has been since, by most naval
writers, looked on, if not as quite erroneous, at least as extremely
severe. One circumstance made people the more regret it. It was passed
at the very time when there lay, encircled by a halo of victory, in
Greenwich Hospital, awaiting a State ceremonial, the dead body of
Nelson, who before he himself annihilated at Trafalgar the very admirals
and some of the very vessels Calder encountered, had openly approved of
Calder’s conduct. The public soon veered in Sir Robert’s favour, and the
sentence did not prove popular. It was spoken against in Parliament, and
it was everywhere felt that a true and valuable British commander had
been hardly dealt with. Restitution was subsequently proferred to Calder
in the appointment, which he accepted, of admiral in command at
Plymouth. But the trial broke his spirit, and it was remarked that he
never was the same energetic man again. His amiability, social manners,
and sound good sense, however, lasted to his death, and during his final
retirement he continued to experience the greatest respect and attention
not only from the Admiralty, but from a host of friends and from persons
of all rank and station. He died at Holt, near Bishops-Waltham, Hants,
on the 31st Aug. 1816; and as he left no issue by his wife, Amelia,
daughter of John Mitchell, Esq., of Bayfield, Norfolk, his own baronetcy
became extinct. The baronetcy of his family, however, continues, and is
now held by his nephew, Sir Henry Roddam Calder, the fifth Bart. of
Muirtoune.




    TRIAL OF GENERAL SIR ROBERT WILSON AND OTHERS FOR THE ESCAPE OF
                              LAVALLETTE.


One of the most wonderful historic events that occurred on the second
Restoration of the Bourbons, in 1815, was the escape from his condemned
cell of Marie Chamant, Count de Lavallette, through the means of his
devoted wife, Emile Louise, daughter of the Marquis of Beauharnais,
niece of the Empress Josephine, and cousin in blood of Napoleon III.
This escape was not without parallel, for, just one hundred years
before, by a similar act of heroism, a wife, the Countess Winifred, of
the noble and illustrious house of Herbert, daughter of William, Marquis
of Powis, freed her husband, William Maxwell, fifth Earl of Nithsdale,
from the Tower of London, where he lay under sentence of immediate death
for joining in the Rising of 1715. It is a curious fact that in either
case some suspicion has attached to the Sovereign then reigning of not
being altogether uncognisant of, or adverse to, the successful attempt
at issue. George I., satiated with Jacobite blood, and not so intent on
punishment as his Government and adherents, may not have secretly
connived, but certainly did evince satisfaction, at the happy result of
Lady Nithsdale’s daring act. “It is,” he exclaimed, “de very best ting a
woman can do for a man in his condition.” A still stronger notion
exists, to the honour of Louis XVIII., that a hint, if not actual help,
as to what Madame Lavallette was to do, came from him. The fury of the
supporters of the House of Bourbon at the second Restoration was without
control. Labédoyère had been executed; and that still worse piece of
cruelty, a deed never forgotten by the public, and eventually fatal to
the Bourbon dynasty, had been just consummated—the consignment to a
traitor’s death of Marshal Ney, “the bravest of the brave.” France
already murmured; and it is natural to suppose that Louis’s own good
sense and humanity revolted at continuing such slaughter. He dared not,
such was the violence of his party, openly interfere; but one cannot
carefully read the whole affair of Lavallette without being struck with
some circumstances in it. How was it, for example, that Louis XVIII.,
after refusing to see Mesdames Labédoyère and Ney, come to beg their
husbands’ lives, admitted Madame Lavallette on the same errand, to a
personal and private interview, where but little ever transpired of what
passed? How was it that the gaoler, without bribe, acted so glaringly in
Lavallette’s favour? How, too, did Lavallette live so long sheltered in
the Foreign Office? And how was it that the party who harboured him was
never brought to account? Then there were the lenient sentence passed on
Wilson and his associates, and finally, the ready pardon granted, in a
few years afterwards, by King Louis to Lavallette himself. This curious
question, however, admits of more discussion than can be accorded to it
here. I pass from it, and from the oft-told story, (and nowhere better
told than in “Chamber’s Miscellany” and Sir Bernard Burke’s “Romance of
the Aristocracy,”) of the evasion from prison of Lavallette, as effected
by his wife. I pass over, also, his wonderful concealment in the mansion
of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and I come to the actual cause of
the following trial, which is connected with our army in this, that two
of the accused were British officers, and their object was effected
through the facilities then afforded by the British military occupation
of France.

Let us, therefore, take it that Lavallette, Postmaster General under
Napoleon, had, on news of the famous return from Elba, violently, and,
as far as the King’s Government was concerned, treasonably, resumed his
place at the head of the Post Office, and had stopped the Bourbon
proclamations and forwarded those of his Imperial master. For this
complicity, as it was termed, with Napoleon against the royal authority
and the safety of the state, Lavallette was, on the 20th November, 1815,
tried and condemned to die, and his appeal to the Court of Cassation was
rejected. His wife on the eve of his execution had got him out of
prison, and he lay precariously hidden in an apartment of the Foreign
Office. What followed cannot be better given than from Count
Lavallette’s own narrative:

“These,” he writes, “are the particulars. The Princess de Vaudemont,
uneasy at knowing me to be still in Paris, though she was not acquainted
with the place of my concealment, looked about for persons who might
help me away. She spoke of her anxiety to Madame de St. Aignan
Caulaincourt, one of the cleverest women born in France, whose kindness
is inexhaustible, and whose courage is unbounded: she proposed to the
Princess to sound a young Englishman, Mr. Bruce, who used to visit both
their houses. Bruce, delighted at the idea of saving an unfortunate man
who had escaped the scaffold in so wonderful a manner, accepted with
enthusiasm the proposal of the ladies, and went immediately to consult
Sir Robert Wilson on the subject.

“Sir Robert shared his young friend’s enthusiasm. He had failed in his
attempt to save Marshal Ney, but he hoped to take his revenge in my
case. He made quite a military expedition of the business; and, as Bruce
was not in the army, it became necessary to find one or two officers,
independent men, of liberal opinions, who might be disposed to play off
a good trick on the Government of the Bourbons. The road to Belgium, by
Valenciennes, was specially assigned to the English army, and it was
therefore chosen for my escape. They asked no more than two days to
finish their preparations. I received a very particular instruction
concerning my dress; no mustacchios, and English wig; my beard shaved
very clean, after the manner of the officers of that nation; a
great-coat, with buttons of the English Guards; the regimentals and hat
were to be given to me at the instant of our departure.

“We held a council, and, as it occurs in most cases, our first steps
were wrong. It was looked upon as very necessary to get my coat made by
the tailor of an English regiment, but he would want my measure; my
friend Stanislaus took it with fine white paper; and instead of the
notches that the tailors are accustomed to make, he wrote on it,
‘_Length of the forearm, breadth of the breast_,’ &c., in a fine neat
hand, and carried it boldly to the tailor of the regiment of the Guards.
He quickly made the coat, however—not without observing that the measure
had not been taken by a tailor. M. Bresson had been to buy me another
great-coat at an old clothes’ shop, and was naturally obliged to measure
it on himself. He was tall and thin, so that in less than forty-eight
hours I had two coats, neither of which could be of any service to me. I
had no boots, and all our speculations were useless in contriving to
procure me a pair. I was forced to put on a pair belonging to M.
Bresson: they were at least two inches longer than my foot; I could
scarcely walk in them, and we all laughed much at the awkward figure I
cut. On the 9th of January, 1816, at eight o’clock in the evening, I at
last took leave of my kind friends (at the Foreign Office).

“We stopped at the house, in the Rue de Helder, near the Boulevard:
there I took leave of my friend Chassenon. As I walked slowly up the
stairs, I was surprised at meeting Mademoiselle Dubourg. There would
have been too much danger in our appearing to know each other. I
afterwards learned that she was going to M. Dupuis, my Reporting Judge,
who lived on the second floor of the house; so that I was going to pass
the night under the same roof with the magistrate who had, during my
trial, examined me twice at length, and with great severity. This
circumstance, however, by no means troubled me. M. Dupuis was an
honourable man, to whom I had shown no reserve, who was convinced of my
innocence, and did not fear openly to declare it with an energy that
might be hurtful to his fortune.

“When I reached the first floor, I saw before me a gentleman of tall
stature and noble features: it was Sir Robert Wilson. He introduced me
to two persons who were expecting me in the parlour; in one of whom I
recognized Mr. Bruce, whom I had met sometimes the preceding winter at
the Duchess of St. Leu’s, (Queen Hortense). Mr. Hutchinson, to whom the
apartments belonged, was a Captain in the English Guards. He received me
in a friendly manner. We seated ourselves round a bowl of punch. Our
conversation turned on public affairs, and we talked with as much ease
and freedom as if we had been together in London. These gentlemen did
not appear to entertain the least uneasiness in respect to our next
day’s journey; and at last, after sitting for about an hour, Sir Robert
and Mr. Bruce rose, and the former shaking hands with me, said: Be up
to-morrow by six o’clock, and be very careful about your dress. You will
find here the coat of a captain in the Guards, which you must put on. At
eight o’clock, precisely, I shall expect you at the door.” “As for me,”
said Bruce, “I am going to spend three days at the country seat of the
Princess de la Moskowa, for you will not want me any longer. My wishes
go along with you, and I shall receive accounts from you of my friends.”

When they were gone, Mr. Hutchinson offered me his bed; but I had no
desire to sleep, and I laid myself down on a sofa.


“At last, after having counted every hour of the night, I heard six
o’clock strike; I immediately set about my toilet, and at eight o’clock
precisely I found Sir Robert Wilson in the street, dressed in his full
regimentals, and seated in a pretty gig. Mr. Hutchinson soon appeared
also on horseback, and we set off. The weather was beautiful; all the
shops were open, everybody in the street, and, by a singular
coincidence, they were just, at that moment, putting up in the Place de
Grève the gibbet, which, according to custom, is used to execute in
effigy persons declared guilty in contumacy.

“We entered the Rue de Clichy, which leads to the barrier of the same
name. As I had on the regimentals and cap of the Guards, the English
soldiers we met saluted us in the military manner. Two officers we saw
on the road appeared very much surprised at seeing with Sir Robert one
of their comrades with whom they were unacquainted; but Mr. Hutchinson
went up to them and talked to them while we were approaching the
barrier. To the right and to the left were two guard-houses, the one
English and the other French. The soldiers drew up under arms.
Fortunately the French were National Guards, and it was not probable
they could know me, as they did not belong to my quarter of the town. We
crossed the barrier with a slow step; and when we were out, I thanked
Sir Robert with as much gratitude as if we had crossed the barriers of
the kingdom. We went on thus to the village of La Chapelle. There we
were obliged to take another horse, to be able to go to Compiègne. This
horse had been baited at a large inn. When we approached the house, we
perceived four gendarmes standing in front of the large door. Sir Robert
went up to them: they separated that we might pass; and, to prevent them
from paying attention to us, Mr. Hutchinson began a conversation with
them. His inquiries were chiefly directed to the number of stables and
the quantity of forage and lodgings that were to be found in the
village; from all which they concluded that English troops were
expected, and one of them invited the English captain to accompany me to
the Mayor. “Not at present,” he answered; “I am going forward to meet
the waggons, and in two hours I shall be back.” The conversation could
not last long with an Englishman who knew but little of our language.
But the horse was quickly changed, and we had the satisfaction, on going
away, to exchange salutes with the gendarmes. I then learned that the
man who had brought us thus far belonged to M. Auguste de St. Aignan. On
the road we met with several gendarmes in pursuit of malefactors, or
bearing military correspondence. They all fixed their eyes on us without
suspecting anything. I had accustomed myself on seeing them to shut my
eyes, but with the precaution of placing my hand on my pistol, fully
resolved, if I should be recognized and apprehended, to blow my brains
out, for it would have been too great a stupidity to suffer myself to be
brought back to Paris.

“We arrived at last at Compiègne. At the entrance of the suburb stood a
non-commissioned English officer, who, on seeing his general, turned to
the right and marched with gravity through several small streets, until
he stopped at a small house in a very lonely part of the town. There we
found an officer who received us very well, and we waited for Sir
Robert’s carriage, which Mr. Wallis was to bring from Paris with him.
That officer had ordered post horses for General Wallis, brother-in-law
to Sir Robert Wilson, who travelled under his name. Mr. Wallis arrived
about six o’clock, after having been followed a great part of the way by
the gendarmes. We had not an instant to lose: the carriage advanced
rapidly. We experienced a great delay at Condé, in getting through the
town, but it was during the night. At last, next morning, at seven
o’clock, we arrived at Valenciennes, the last French city on that
frontier. I was beginning to feel more easy, when the postmaster told us
to go and have our passports examined by the captain of the gendarmerie.
“You forgot, I suppose to read who we were,” said Sir Robert calmly,
“let the captain come here if he chooses to see us.” The postmaster felt
how wrong he had acted; and taking our passports, he went himself to get
them signed. As it was very long before he came back, I began to be
tormented by a most horrible anxiety. Was I going to be wrecked in the
harbour? Suppose the officer of gendarmes were to come himself to verify
the signatures and to apprehend me? Fortunately, the weather was very
cold, it was scarcely daylight, and the officer signed the passports
without rising from his bed. We got out of the gate. On the glacis an
officer of the preventive service wanted to see whether we were in
order; but having satisfied his curiosity, we went on and stopped no
more. We flew along the beautiful Brussels road. From time to time I
looked through the black window, to see whether we were not pursued. My
impatience augmented at every turn of the wheels. The postilions showed
us at a distance a large house that was the Belgium Custom House. I
fixed my eyes on that edifice, and it seemed to me as if it remained
always equally far off. I imagined that the postilion did not get on. I
was ashamed of my impatience, but it was impossible for me to curb it.
At last we reached the frontier: we were on the Belgian territories; I
was saved! I pressed the hands of Sir Robert, and expressed to him with
a deep emotion, the extent of my gratitude. But he, keeping up his
gravity, only smiled, without answering me. About half an hour
afterwards he turned to me, and said in the most serious tone possible,
“Now, pray tell me, my dear friend, why did you not like to be
guillotined?” I stared at him with astonishment, and made no reply.
“Yes,” he continued, “they say that you had solicited, as a favour, that
you might be shot?” “It is very true. When a man is guillotined, they
put him in a cart, with his hands bound behind his back; and when he is
on the scaffold, they tie him fast to a plank, which they lower to let
it slip thus under the knife.” “Ah, I understand; you did not like to
have _your throat cut like a calf_.”

“We arrived at Mons at about three o’clock in the afternoon, and we
stopped at the best inn. While dinner was preparing, I wrote a few
letters, of which Sir Robert was kind enough to take charge; and after
having gone with me to buy some things I wanted, and having given me two
letters, one for the King of Prussia and the other for Mr. Lamb, the
English resident in Munich, we separated,—he to return to Paris, and I
to go farther into Germany and try to reach Bavaria.”

M. Lavallette, once out of the French territory, crossed a part of
Germany, and entered Bavaria, the king of which country received him
with great cordiality, and protected him against the French ministry,
who insisted upon his being delivered up to them. The ever kind and
hospitable Queen Hortense, Duchess of St. Leu, the mother of Napoleon
III., offered him her house; and her brother, the famous Prince Eugène
de Beauharnais lavished on him all the consolations of friendship.

In 1822, letters of pardon, granted by Louis XVIII., restored Lavallette
to his native country; but, alas! when he arrived in Paris, in the midst
of the congratulations that poured on him from all sides, one voice was
wanting to thoroughly cheer him. From that momentous hour, when, with
such overpowering energy, she had arranged his escape, and remained an
hostage in his place, his wife had not seen him. And now, on his return,
she knew him not. The unfortunate lady had lost her reason from the
violent agitation consequent on saving him, and from her subsequent
lying in when her infant died. M. de Lavallette was overwhelmed at the
sight of her. He wrote to King Louis XVIII.:—“Your Majesty has restored
to me a country and a home I prized more than life; but all your royal
favour can never counter-balance this domestic misfortune.” Lavallette
retired from public life, and lived in complete seclusion, which he only
once left to go to London in 1826, and support Sir Robert Wilson’s
election to Parliament. He repaid his wife by his daily care of her, and
by unceasing and fond attention during the remainder of his existence.
He died in France in 1830: she survived him many years in a hopeless
mental state, and died not long ago. Their only child Josephine who
shared in the escape, was well married, and, I believe, still survives.

To return to the Count’s three rescuers. A letter giving an account of
the escape, written from Paris by Sir Robert Wilson to Earl Grey in
England, was intercepted by the French police, and led to the arrest of
all the three gentlemen, viz.: General Sir Robert Thomas Wilson himself,
Captain John Hely-Hutchinson of the Guards, a member of the family of
the Irish Earls of Donoughmore, and Michael Bruce, Esq., a Scotch
gentlemen, and a scion, I am inclined to think, of the Bruces of
Stenhouse, county Stirling. Their trial, which took place at the assize
court in Paris, on the 22nd April, 1816, created a great sensation and
attracted a very numerous auditory. It commenced at eleven o’clock. The
president was M. Desèze _fils_; and M. Hua, advocate-general, acted as
public prosecutor. The counsel for the British prisoners was the eminent
Dupin, whose death occurred on the 10th of Nov. 1865.

Sir Robert Wilson appeared in grand uniform, decorated with seven or
eight orders of different European states, one of which was the cordon
of the Russian order of St. Anne. Captain Hutchinson wore the uniform of
his military rank. When the accused were called upon to give their names
and qualities, Mr. Bruce said with energy, I am an English citizen. The
President observed, that though relying on their correct knowledge of
the French language, they did not ask for an interpreter, yet the law of
France willed that the accused should not be deprived of any means of
facilitating their justification, even when unclaimed; M. Robert was
accordingly named and sworn to that office. Four other prisoners were,
for aiding in the escape from prison, tried at the same time, viz.:
Eberle and Roquette, gaolers; Bonneville, Lavallette’s valet de chambre;
and a chair-porter, Guérin. The trial commenced by a curious attempt to
make the procedure of France accord with that of England.

_Mr. Bruce_, speaking in French, said, that although he and his
countrymen had submitted to the law of France, they had not lost the
privilege of invoking the law of nations. Its principle was reciprocity;
and as in England French culprits enjoyed the rights of demanding a jury
composed of half foreigners, it appeared to them that the same right, or
favour, could not be refused to them in France. The decision of several
eminent lawyers of their own nation had strengthened them in this
opinion; but the justice which had been already shown them by the
Chamber of Accusation, had determined them to renounce this right, and
they abandoned themselves without reserve to a jury entirely composed of
Frenchmen. That, however, no precedent might be drawn from their case
against such of their countrymen who might hereafter be in the same
situation, they had made special declaration of the purpose of their
renunciation.

_M. Dupin_ moving the court that this declaration might be entered on
the record, the Advocate-General expressed his astonishment at a claim
in France, for an offence committed in France, of the privileges of a
foreign legislature; and opposed entering the declaration. After some
argument on the subject, the court pronounced the following decision:
“Because every offence committed in a territory is an object of its
peculiar jurisdiction, and because the exception demanded by the
prisoners is not allowed by any construction of the criminal code of
France, the court declares that there is no ground for recording, at the
request of the English prisoners, the declaration now made by them; the
court therefore orders the trial to proceed.”

The act of accusation drawn up by the Procureur-General was then read,
which took up more than two hours. The Advocate-General briefly
recapitulated the facts in the charge, distinguishing them as they
applied to the different prisoners; and remarked that the Chamber of
Accusation had already absolved the three Englishmen from the offence of
having conspired against the legitimate government of France. After the
interrogatories of some of the prisoners, the president addressed
himself to Mr. Bruce. To the question of whether it was not to him that
the first overture was made of transporting Lavallette out of France: he
replied, “If possible I would have effected his escape alone; for I
could not refuse a man who had put his life into my hands. I, however,
obtained his consent to confide his secret to one of my friends. I spoke
to one friend, who gave me a message to another. I will not name these
friends.

Some of the interrogatories and answers that followed are curious:—

_President._—Bruce, have you been in Paris some time?

_Bruce._—Thirteen months.

_President._—You have had communication with the Duc de Vincennes?

_Bruce._—That is true, Monsieur le President; but I do not see what my
friendship with the Duke has to do with the escape of M. de Lavallette.

_President._—You have manifested a great interest for Marshal Ney?

_Bruce._—That is also true, and I am far from blushing at it.

_President._—It is to you that the condemned Lavallette addressed
himself for the means of leaving Paris and France?

_Bruce._—The 31st December, or the 1st January, I received an anonymous
letter, in which the nobleness of my character was extolled, but I do
not know whether I merited all the compliments that were paid to me. It
went on to say: the confidence that I inspired determined the author of
the letter to inform me that M. Lavallette was still in Paris, and that
I could save him. I did not doubt the person who remitted that letter to
me: I thought that in an affair of that nature one could not too much
avoid indiscretion. The adventure of the escape of M. Lavallette
appeared to me to have in it something of romance, and, indeed,
something of the miraculous. I interested myself intensely about him,
and I was easily determined to serve him. I know not if I were wrong,
but I thought that honour and humanity would not permit me to do
otherwise. I would not have placed any one in my confidence, but that I
feared in acting alone to compromise him who confided his life to me. I
informed a friend, whom I will not name, unless he thinks it proper for
me to do so. We thought that it would be advisable to communicate to
another friend. We arranged between the three the measures that we
should take. On the evening of the 7th January M. de Lavallette went to
the apartment of the second friend. I remained with him till twelve
o’clock. I shook hands with him and quitted.

_President._—Tell us what passed in the apartment of Captain Hutchinson
from the moment of the arrival of the condemned Lavallette.

_Bruce._—I have not mentioned Captain Hutchinson’s name.

_President._—But you have made it public by the inference and it is so
from the interrogatories in which your two friends have made themselves
known?

_Bruce._—We have made our interrogatories public because it was
important for us to destroy the scandal that was spread regarding our
conduct (at this moment Captain Hutchinson requested Mr. Bruce to
mention his name). My friend, continued Mr. Bruce, has authorised me to
mention his name; I can now admit that it was in Captain Hutchinson’s
apartment that M. de Lavallette passed the night of the 7th to the 8th
of January.

_President._—Did you not obtain a wig for the condemned Lavallette?

_Bruce._—I had nothing whatever to do with the wig of M. de Lavallette;
the measure of the wig that was found in my house concerned a friend who
was at Constantinople.

_President_, to Captain Hutchinson.—It was in your apartment that
Lavallette was received on the 7th January?

_Hutchinson._—Yes, sir.

_President._—After Lavallette entered your lodging did not an unknown
person present himself at your door to give to the condemned man two
pistols that he had forgotten to take with him?

_Hutchinson._—My servant came to me and announced that somebody desired
to speak to me. I went out to prevent the unknown person from entering.
I perceived in his pocket a double-barrelled pistol.

The first idea that struck me was, that all was discovered, and I
prepared to defend myself. I seized the pistol, the stranger did not
resist, he only said to me, “You are, then, one of our friends;” I
replied in the affirmative; but from precaution I would not permit him
to enter my chamber.

_President._—When Lavallette left Paris you accompanied him to
Compiègne?

_Hutchinson._—I did.

_President._—That which you did was only to oblige your friend?

_Hutchinson._—Not at all, sir. I was not moved by anything but a feeling
of humanity.

_President_, to Wilson.—General Wilson, had you previously known
Lavallette?

_General Wilson._—I had never seen M. de Lavallette before this event,
nor had I the least knowledge of him.

_President._—You are charged with having conducted him out of France?

_General Wilson._—Yes.

_President._—It was you who asked Captain Hutchinson to receive the
condemned Lavallette?

_General Wilson._—My friend Captain Hutchinson has done nothing but
under my influence.

_President._—In conducting Lavallette, you passed by Compiègne, and you
arrived at the frontier—you took under false names for Lavallette and
yourself two passports, that you had the caution to get examined by
competent authorities.

_General Wilson._—That is true.

_President._—Do you know that Lavallette was condemned to capital
punishment?

_General Wilson._—Without doubt.

_President._—Are you aware that Lavallette was condemned as an
accomplice of Bonaparte, in having joined a rebellious faction that
brought back the usurper?

_General Wilson._—I know the history of the return of Napoleon, but I
did not look upon M. Lavallette as having taken part in a conspiracy,
because I always was convinced that no previous plot had existed to
induce Bonaparte to re-enter France. His coming was spontaneous.
Moreover, where it was a matter between my two friends and myself of
saving M. de Lavallette, humanity spoke only to our hearts, and we were
not at all directed by any political bias.

This open confession rendered superfluous, with respect to them, the
testimony of any witnesses; the appearance of _Madame Lavallette_ was,
however, too interesting to be passed over. At her entrance, a general
murmur of feeling or curiosity was heard, and the three gentlemen
saluted her with a profound bow. Overpowered by her emotions, she was
scarcely able to articulate; at length, being told by the President that
she was summoned only on account of some of the accused, who had invoked
her testimony, she said, “I declare that the persons who have called me
contributed in no respect to the escape of M. Lavallette (meaning _from
prison_); no one was in my confidence: I alone did the whole.” Being
desired to say whether she had ever seen or known the English gentlemen,
she looked at them for a moment, and declared that she had never known
or seen them before.

At a subsequent audience, April 24th, 1816, M. Dupin spoke for the
English gentlemen, and his defence was a splendid piece of oratory. The
case he reduced to the two propositions:—1. There was no act of
_complicity_ between the accused persons and the principal culprit. 2.
The fact imputed to them cannot be considered as a crime, nor as an
offence. Part of his peroration was as follows:—“In ancient Athens,
where the people were remarkable for their frivolity, but where the
Areopagus was noted for its justice, a young man was condemned to death
for having killed a dove, which, pursued by a hawk, flew to him for
safety. It was adjudged that he who was without pity, could never be a
good citizen. And shall we, in the nineteenth century, see men condemned
for saving the life of another who put his fate into their hands?... No,
this cannot be under the government of a prince whose justice, clemency,
and benevolence recommend him equally to the love and the fidelity of
his people. Under the rule of a descendant of St. Louis, humanity is
amalgamated with Christian charity. This is indeed so, for the ministers
of our altars present to us as the triumph of charity the act of that,
holy personage, St. Vincent de Paul, who did not think he offended the
laws of his country when he effected the escape of a poor suffering
wretch from the galleys, by himself taking his seat and his chains.
These sublime feats of humanity do not fall beneath your jurisdiction.
Courts of justice are instituted to punish the crimes, not to proceed
against the virtues, of men.” He concluded with an earnest
recommendation of the accused to the court as _foreigners_ and
_Englishmen_.

The proceedings having closed, _Sir Robert Wilson_ rose, and with
dignified confidence delivered an address in French. Having acknowledged
that he had been interested in the fate of Lavallette, on political
grounds, he declared that such considerations had a very inferior
influence on his determination.

“The appeal” (said he) “made to our humanity, to our personal character,
and to our national generosity; the responsibility thrown upon us of
instantly deciding on the life or death of an unfortunate man, and,
above all, of an unfortunate foreigner—this appeal was imperative and
did not permit us to calculate his other claims to our good will. At
this cry of humanity we should have done as much for an obscure, unknown
individual, or even for an enemy who had fallen into misfortune. Perhaps
we were imprudent, but we would rather incur that reproach, than the one
we should have merited by basely abandoning him, who, full of
confidence, threw himself into our arms: and these very men who have
calumniated us, without knowing either the motives or the details of our
conduct—these very men, I say, would have been the first to stigmatize
us as heartless cowards, if, by our refusal to save M. Lavallette, we
had abandoned him to certain death. We resign ourselves with security to
the decision of the jury; and if you should condemn us for having
contravened your positive laws, we shall not at least have to reproach
ourselves for having violated the eternal laws of morality and
humanity.”

_Mr. Bruce_ delivered, in French, a speech of the same general tenor;
his language was animated, and his tone firm and manly.

“Gentlemen (he concluded) I have confessed to you, with all frankness
and honour, the whole truth with regard to the part which I took in the
escape of M. Lavallette; and notwithstanding the respect which I
entertain for the majesty of the laws, notwithstanding the respect I owe
to this tribunal, I cannot be wanting in the respect I owe to myself so
far as to affirm, that I feel not the least compunction for what I have
done. I leave you, gentlemen, to decide upon my fate and I implore
nothing but justice.”

The President concisely summed up the evidence, and gave his charge with
great impartiality and much eloquence. The jury retired to deliberate,
and in about two hours returned with a verdict of guilty against Messrs.
Wilson, Bruce, and Hutchinson, and not guilty as to the other prisoners,
except Eberle the gaoler, whom they convicted of the minor offence of
negligence.

The President then read the article of the penal code applicable to the
charge proved against the three British subjects, in which the
punishment prescribed was imprisonment for a term not exceeding two
years, nor less than three months; and without hesitation he pronounced
for the shortest allowable term.

Each of the three British subjects was accordingly sentenced to three
months’ imprisonment and the costs of the trial. Eberle, the gaoler, was
sentenced to two years’ imprisonment, and after that, to be ten years
under the surveillance of the police. The President announced to the
convicted that they had three days allowed to appeal to the Court of
Cassation. Bruce, Hutchinson, and Wilson, would make no appeal against
the judgment and passed their three months of imprisonment at the
Conciergerie. It was intimated that Louis XVIII. would willingly have
respited them, had they asked his pardon, but this they respectfully
declined to do. On their return to England, all parties, Tory, Whig and
Radical, received them with enthusiasm. The nobility and fashionable
world fêted them, and the public lavished praises on them. The Prince
Regent, wishing to act with official strictness, deprived Hutchinson of
his appointment as Captain in the Guards, but on his fellow officers
exclaiming against such harshness, he restored him to his regiment and
rank.

Mr. Bruce was entertained by the Countess of Bessborough at a _déjeuner_
where he met the Duke of Wellington, and received his Grace’s
congratulations. The electors of Southwark, to mark their sense of Sir
Robert Wilson’s noble conduct, returned him as their representative to
Parliament. Sir Robert, who was a clever writer, as well as a good
soldier and an active politician, died in 1849, after a chequered but
honourable public career. Captain Hutchinson, who for many years after
the trial was known by the _sobriquet_ of “Lavallette Hutchinson,” died
in 1851, third Earl of Donoughmore, which title he inherited from his
uncle, the eminent General Lord Hutchinson, second Earl of Donoughmore,
who took the command at the close of the victory of Alexandria, after
Sir Ralph Abercromby had been borne, mortally wounded, from the field.

The Lavalette name is at this day of important note in France, the
Marquis of Lavalette being the present able and popular Minister of the
Interior there. It appears, however, that he is no relative of the Count
of the escape, and has had naught in common with him but the name, and
hardly even that, for it would seem, the count spelt its second syllable
with the double _ll_, where the Marquis has but one. In here
acknowledging the communication I have had the honour to receive from M.
le Marquis, whose obliging amiability fully tallies with that ready and
cordial attention one is ever sure to receive from high officials in
France, as well as in England,—I must add that I should be very glad
indeed, if I, or rather some one more competent than myself, could take
advantage of the Marquis’s courtesy, and, by thoroughly searching all
French archives relating to the subject, bring out the full details and
the whole truth of this most mysterious and most interesting affair—the
escape of Lavallette.

LEWIS AND SON, Printers, Swan Buildings, Moorgate Street.

-----

Footnote 1:

  Dibdin uses his name freely: here is a specimen from his “Peter
  Pullhauls Medley.”

        “When grown a man I soon began
          To quit each boyish notion;
        With old Benbow I swore to go,
          And tempt the waving ocean.

        “Ten years I served with him, or nigh,
          And saw the gallant hero die;
        Yet ’scaped each shot myself, for why?

              “‘There’s a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft,
              To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.’”

Footnote 2:

  In Owen and Blakeway’s History of Shrewsbury, the ancient descent and
  parentage of the admiral, as above given, are, on very good argument,
  altogether denied. They (and what T. Phillips says in his History of
  Shrewsbury bears them out) state the admiral to have been the son of
  William Benbow, of Cotton Hill, tanner and burgess of Shrewsbury, and
  to have had no uncle, Colonel Thomas Benbow, and only an uncle,
  Captain John Benbow, who was actually (and no doubt pursuant to the
  sentence recorded in the State Trials) shot in the Bowling Green of
  Shrewsbury on the 15th of October, 1651, and was buried the following
  day in St. Chad’s churchyard in that town; and a stone erected over
  him, which was renewed in 1740, and which gave his name and the date
  of his interment. St. Chad’s register has further this entry: “1651,
  October 16; John Benbowe, captain, who was shott at the Castle. B.”
  All this being so, what becomes of the story of the Colonel Benbow of
  the Tower? It may be true, but must refer to some other member of the
  family.

Footnote 3:

  Admiral Benbow was born at Cotton Hill, near Shrewsbury, in 1650. In a
  bedroom belonging to the house of his birth appear the following
  lines, written with a diamond on the window:—

                 “Then only breathe one prayer for me,
                   That far away, where’er I go,
                 The heart that would have bled for thee
                   May feel through life no other woe.

                 “I shall look back, when on the main,
                   Back to my native isle;
                 And almost think I hear again
                   That voice, and view that smile.”

  Underneath has been added the following:—

      “You go, and round that head, like banners in the air,
      Shall float full many a loving hope and many a tender prayer.”

Footnote 4:

  This story of the Moors’ heads derives considerable countenance from
  the following circumstance related in Owen and Blakeway’s “History of
  Shrewsbury.” It appears that a Mr. Richard Ridley married Elizabeth
  Benbow, a sister of the admiral. Their daughter, Sarah Ridley, married
  Richard Briscoe, and Helen Briscoe, great granddaughter of this
  marriage, married John Powell, of the Castle Foregate, Shrewsbury; and
  in his possession might be seen a curious kind of cup or punch-bowl
  edged with silver, on which was engraved “The First Adventure of
  Captain John Benbo, and Gift to Richard Ridley, 1687.” On close
  inspection this cup was found to consist of cane very closely matted
  together, and coated on both sides with varnish. The vessel was
  evidently such a covering for the head as is in use among the Moors,
  so that it might have been worn by one of the thirteen pirates who
  boarded the _Benbow_ frigate.

Footnote 5:

  My friend, Albert W. Woods, Esq., Lancaster Herald, informs me that no
  registry or entry of these augmented arms is to be found in the
  Heralds’ College. The only Benbow arms there are those of the Benbows
  of Newport, viz., “Sa. two string-bows endorsed in pale or garnished
  gu., between two bundles of arrows in fesse, three in each bundle,
  gold, barbed and headed arg., and tied up proper. _Crest_—A harpy
  close, or, face proper, wreathed round the head with a chaplet of
  roses gu.” Mr. Woods also kindly furnishes me with a pedigree of the
  Benbows of Newport from Vincent’s “Collection for the County of
  Salop,” which nowhere shows connection with the family of the admiral,
  but in it I find a “Thomas Benbow, ætatis 20, 1623.” May not this have
  been (though no uncle of the admiral) the Colonel Thomas Benbow of the
  Civil War, who, as nothing proves that he was shot after the Battle of
  Worcester, may have lived to be the old cavalier whom Charles II.
  discovered in poverty in the Tower?

Footnote 6:

  The following is the exact list of Benbow’s naval force:—

          The Breda, Admiral Benbow and Captain Fogg 70 guns.
          The Defiance, Captain Richard Kirby        64  „
          The Greenwich, Captain Cooper Wade         54  „
          The Ruby, Captain George Walton            48  „
          The Pendennis, Captain Thomas Hudson       48  „
          The Windsor, Captain John Constable        48  „
          The Falmouth, Captain Samuel Vincent       48  „

Footnote 7:

  Like most of the admiral’s domestic history, this destruction of his
  tomb is doubtful; unless, indeed, his body was afterwards removed
  within the church; for a recent correspondent of that useful and able
  periodical, “Notes and Queries,” gives the following epitaph of
  Admiral Benbow, from an article in the “Gentleman’s Magazine,” on
  Monumental Inscriptions in the West Indies:—

  “Here lyeth interred the body of JOHN BENBOW, Esq., Admiral of the
  White. A true pattern of English courage. Who lost his life in defence
  of his Queen and Country, November ye 4th, 1702, in the 62nd year of
  his age, by a wound in his leg received in an engagement with Monsr.
  Du Casse. Being much lamented.”

  [A slab on the pavement.]

  The correspondent of “Notes and Queries” goes on to state that “the
  admiral lies interred on the right as you approach the altar, and
  within the railing, of the parish church of Kingston, Jamaica.”

Footnote 8:

  There was no evidence to show that to be so. Kidd was, in fact, taken
  when landing from a sloop at Boston.

Footnote 9:

  The 19 George III., _v._ 17, sec. 3, amended very properly the above
  article by adding to the end of it “or such other punishment as the
  offence may deserve.”

Footnote 10:

  This lady, the only daughter to survive him, of George, first Viscount
  Torrington, was Sarah, wife of John Osborn, Esq., and mother of Sir
  Danvers Osborn, third Baronet of Chicksands Priory, Bedfordshire, the
  direct ancestor of the present Sir George Robert Osborn, Bart.

Footnote 11:

  The prisoner interrupted and said, “I do not look for it, my lord.”

Footnote 12:

  When his lordship mentioned the word “painful,” the prisoner said
  “joyful.”

Footnote 13:

  Dr. Dodd.

Footnote 14:

  Queen Anne had stood for this peer, in person, as his godmother, and
  hence his second Christian name of Anne.

Footnote 15:

  It should be here in fairness mentioned, that Mr. Yonge somewhat errs
  as to the Duke of Chartres, who, bad as he was in other respects, (he
  was the citizen Egalité of the Revolution), had not the character of a
  coward: he, at any rate, behaved with marked courage on this occasion.

Footnote 16:

  M. F. Feuillet de Conches, in his recently published correspondence of
  Louis XVI., Marie-Antoinette and the Princess Elizabeth,—a very
  interesting work—gives a curious letter on the subject of Keppel’s
  engagement from the pen of the Princess Elizabeth, who was Louis
  XVI.’s sister, and the admirable lady whose martyrdom was decidedly
  the foulest act among the foul acts of the Reign of Terror. The
  princess is writing in or near August, 1778, to her devoted friend
  Madame de Bombelles, and the letter is as follows:—“Je n’ai que le
  temps, mon ange, de vous dire qu’il y a eu une affaire entre les deux
  flottes; que le premier choc a été très-vif, qu’ensuite elles se sont
  séparées, et que la nôtre s’est avancée pour un second, mais que les
  Anglais se sont retirés. On dit que l’on a remarqué que le vaisseau de
  l’Amiral Keppel se battait fort bien, mais que tout d’un coup il y a
  eu une grande évolution, qu’il a cessé de se défendre et s’est retiré.
  Huit ou dix bâtiments l’ont accompagné, ce qui fait croire que
  l’amiral est ou très-blessé ou tué. Il y a dix vaisseaux fort
  endommagés, et nous, nous n’en avons que deux qui seront en état de
  repartir dans huit jours. Le Duc de Chartres revient passer deux à
  trois jours ici. M. Du Chaffault est très-dangereusement blessé. Je
  m’affermis encore plus dans ce que je vous ai dit la dernière fois.
  J’attends votre réponse avec impatience pour me décider sur ce que je
  dois faire. Ne dites point la nouvelle de l’Amiral Keppel, parce
  qu’elle n’est pas sûre. Je vous embrasse de tout mon cœur.

                                                       ELIZABETH MARIE.”

Footnote 17:

  Byron, with wonderful poetic accuracy, recounts the actual mutiny:—

                     “Awake, bold Bligh! the foe is at the gate!
                     Awake! awake!—alas! it is too late!
                     Fiercely beside thy cot the mutineer
                     Stands, and proclaims the reign of rage and fear,
                     Thy limbs are bound, the bayonet at thy breast;

                            ·       ·       ·       ·       ·

                     Full in thine eyes is waved the glittering blade,
                     Close to thy throat the pointed bayonet laid;
                     The levell’d muskets circle round thy breast,
                     In hands as steel’d to do the deadly rest.
                     Thou dar’st them to their worst, exclaiming—‘Fire!’
                     But they who pitied not could yet admire,
                     Some lurking remnant of their former awe
                     Restrained them longer than their broken law;
                     They would not dip their souls at once in blood,
                     But left thee to the mercies of the flood.
                     ‘Hoist out the boat!’ was now the leader’s cry;
                     And who dare answer ‘No!’ to mutiny,
                     In the first dawning of the drunken hour,
                     The Saturnalia of unhoped-for power?
                     The boat is lower’d with all the haste of hate,
                     With its slight plank between thee and thy fate;
                     Her only cargo such a scant supply
                     As promises the death their hands deny;
                     And just enough of water and of bread,
                     To keep, some days, the dying from the dead:
                     Some cordage, canvas, sails, and lines, and twine,
                     But treasures all to hermits of the brine,
                     Were added after, to the earnest prayer
                     Of those who saw no hope save sea and air;
                     And last, that trembling vassal of the Pole—
                     The feeling compass—Navigation’s soul.”

Footnote 18:

  The ordinary pound then, as now, consisted of sixteen ounces, but a
  sailor’s pound was fixed at fourteen.

Footnote 19:

  A melancholy circumstance occurred with regard to one witness coming
  to speak to Wall’s character—Major Winter, R.A. The major, who arrived
  for the purpose from Woolwich, on getting out of the stage coach,
  dropped down and instantly expired.

Footnote 20:

  Mr. Timbs, F.S.A., in his interesting work, “A Century of Anecdote”
  thus refers to Colonel Despard:—“This gallant but unfortunate officer
  appears to have fallen into a sea of troubles through his devoted
  loyalty. In the course of his service he was the companion and friend
  of Lord Nelson, during his co-operation with whom, at the Siege of
  Honduras in his zeal for the public cause, he advanced large sums of
  money from his own resources, for the promotion of the operation of
  the war. For this, as well as for his gallantry and ability, he was
  thanked by Parliament, but _not repaid_. On his arrival in England, he
  pressed his claims for repayment upon the Ministry; and irritated by
  the delays and difficulties thrown in his way by officials, he became
  enraged beyond control. He appealed to the House of Commons, but in
  vain. He then fell into pecuniary difficulties, grew excited to
  desperation, wrote violent letters to ministers, and having joined the
  London Corresponding Society, was taken up under the Act for
  suspending the writ of Habeas Corpus, and confined to Coldbath Fields
  Prison. There the eminent Lord Cloncurry (then the Hon. Valentine
  Browne Lawless, who himself was imprisoned in a similar way on
  suspicion in the Tower in 1798) found Despard, who had served many
  years in tropical climates, imprisoned in a stone cell, six feet by
  eight feet furnished with a truckle-bed and a small table; there was
  no chair, fire-place, or window, light being only admitted through a
  barred but unglazed aperture over the door opening into a paved yard,
  at the time covered with snow. Despard was confined, we believe, in
  the winter of 1797, and during his incarceration he had grown worn and
  wan, and of unsound mind. In talking over the condition of Ireland
  with Mr. Lawless, the colonel said, ‘he had not seen his country for
  thirty years, he had never ceased thinking of it and of its
  misfortunes, and the main object of his seeing Mr. Lawless was to
  disclose his discovery of an infallible remedy for the latter—viz., a
  voluntary separation of the sexes, so as to leave no future generation
  obnoxious to oppression.’ This plan of cure would, he said, defy the
  machination of the enemies of Ireland to interrupt its complete
  success.

  “In a few years after this conversation, this poor madman, at the
  Oakley Arms public-house, in Lambeth, was apprehended.”

  In the “Life and Times of Lord Cloncurry,” by Mr. W. J. Fitzpatrick, I
  find the following additional particulars:—“Some months after the Hon.
  Valentine Lawless’s visit to Despard, during the debates in the House
  of Commons on the propriety of continuing the suspension of Habeas
  Corpus, Mr. Courtney read a letter aloud from Mrs. Catherine Despard.

  “‘I think it necessary to state,’ she writes, ‘that he was confined
  near seven months in a dark cell without fire or candle, chair, table,
  knife, fork, a glazed window, or even a book. I made several
  applications in person to Mr. Wickham, and by letter to the Duke of
  Portland, all to no purpose. The 20th of last month he was removed
  into a room with a fire, but not until his feet were ulcerated by the
  frost. For the truth of this statement I appeal to the Hon. Mr.
  Lawless and John Reeves, Esq., who visited him in prison, and at whose
  intercession he was removed. The jailor will bear witness that he
  never made any complaint of his treatment, however severe.’

  “The sympathies of Valentine Lawless were, as usual, awakened. He
  expressed the greatest commiseration for Despard’s sufferings, and
  resolved to provide for his wife and family at Lyons (his family seat,
  in the County of Kildare), whenever circumstances suggested the
  propriety of doing so, and certain other circumstances permitted it.
  We trust it is not unpardonably anticipating to observe that Lawless
  (who had succeeded as second Lord Cloncurry in 1799) did afford the
  widowed Mrs. Despard a comfortable asylum within the bosom of his own
  family at Lyons.

Footnote 21:

  The French and Spanish fleet (commanded by Villeneuve and Gravina)
  consisted of one of 90 guns, two of 84, four of 80, eleven of 74, and
  two of 64. The English, of three of 98 guns, two of 84, eight of 74,
  and two of 64.

Footnote 22:

  This was Mr. Gaselee, an eminent advocate and lawyer, who became
  eventually Sir Stephen Gaselee, and a Judge of the Court of Common
  Pleas. He was father of the present Serjeant Gaselee, M.P. for
  Portsmouth. Mr. Gaselee was virtually counsel for Sir Robert Calder,
  but no counsel to speak for the accused are openly allowed at a court
  martial.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                          TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES


 ● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
 ● Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last
     chapter.
 ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
 ● Enclosed blackletter font in =equals=.
 ● The caret (^) serves as a superscript indicator, applicable to
     individual characters (like 2^d) and even entire phrases (like
     1^{st}).





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