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MYSTERIES OF POLICE AND CRIME
MYSTERIES OF POLICE
AND CRIME
A GENERAL SURVEY OF WRONGDOING
AND ITS PURSUIT
BY
MAJOR ARTHUR QRIFFITHS
AUTHOR OF "memorials OF MILLBANK," *' CHRONICLES OF NEWGATE,"
"secrets of the prison house," etc.
*john howard" gold medallist, and one of h. m. inspectors of prisons
VOLUME I.
New York : G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
London : CASSELL and COMPANY, Limited
1899
4
■Ms' i V 1: k f. n Y
A' ii-xi^i^
J J 3 V\ ii 0 ;i
Yi] AMHIJ
CONTENTS
VOLUME I.
Introduction
PAGE
1
fart i.— POLICE— PAST AND PRESENT.
CHAPTER
I. Early Police ...
II. Police in England
m. Modern Police : London, Paris, and New York
IV. The Detectite, Old and New
V. English Detectives
39
62
100
129
fart li.— JUDICIAL ERROES.
VI. Wrongful Convictions
VII. Disputed or Mistaken Identity ...
Vin. Problematical Errors
, IX. Police Mistakes
149
172
188
212
riii MYSTERIES OF POLICE AND GRIME.
fart aaa.— CAFTAINS OF CRIME.
CHAPTER PAGE
X. Some Famous Swindlers 227
XI. Sttindleks of Moke Modern- Type 247
XII. Some Female Criminals ... ... ... .. ... ... 282
XIII. Wholesale Homicides ... ... ... ... ... ... 297
fart Uir— CRIMES OF THE HIGHWAY.
XIV. Highwaymen and Mail Coach Robbers .. 32S
XV. Crimes of the Highways 363
y XVI. Robberies by the Way and Railway Grimes ... 386
XVII. Brigands, Bushrangers, Outlaws, and Road Agents ... 408
fart ».— MURDER MYSTERIES.
XVm. Concealment ... 441
XIX. Disposal of the "Corpus Delicti" 459
INTEODUCTION.
CRIME is the transgression by individuals ol rules made
by the community. Wrong-doing may be either inten-
tional or accidental — a wilful revolt against law, or a lapse
through ignorance of it. Both are punishable by all codes
alike, but the latter is not necessarily a crime. To consti-
tute a really criminal act the offence must be wilful,
perverse, and malicious ; the offender then becomes the
general enemy, to be combated by all good citizens, through
their chosen defenders, the police. This warfare has existed
from the earliest times ; it is in constant progress around us
to-day, and it will continue to be waged until the advent of
that Millennium in which there is to be no more evil passion
to agitate mankind.
It may be said that society itself creates the crimes that
chiefly beset it. If the good things of life were more evenly
distributed, if everyone had his rights, if there were no
fraud, no oppression, there would be no attempts to readjust
an unequal balance by violent or flagitious means. This may
explain much, but it does not cover the whole ground, and it
cannot excuse many forms of crime. Crime is the ineradic-
able birthmark of fallen humanity, a fatal inheritance known
to the theologians as original sin. Crime, then, must be
constantly present in the community, and every son of
Adam may, under certain conditions, be drawn into it. To
paraphrase a great saying, some achieve crime, some have
it thrust upon them ; but most of us (we may make the
statement without subscribing to the doctrines of the
criminal anthropologists) are born to crime. The assertion
B
2 INTROBUGTIOK.
is as old as the hills ; it was echoed in the fervent cry of
pious John Bradford when he pointed to the man led out
to execution, "There goes John Bradford but for the grace
of God ! "
That we are all potential criminals is proved by the
natural proclivities of the young. Criminal instincts, more
or less strongly developed, are to be seen in all children.
Anger, resentment, mendacity, destructiveness, acquisitiveness
are evil traits exhibited by most of them, although in many
happily eradicated by careful education. " It is the mother's
part," says Dr. Nicholson, one of our best writers on criminal
psychology, "to encourage the gradual growth of inhibitory
processes, such as prudence, reflection, and a sense of moral
duty. ... In proportion as this development is prevented or
stifled, either owing to original brain defect or by lack of
proper education and training, so there is the risk of the
individual lapsing into criminal-mindedness or into actual
crime."
Criminals are manufactured no less by social cross-
purposes than by the domestic neglect which fosters the first
fatal predisposition. " Assuredly external factors and circum-
stances count for much in the causation of crime," says
Maudsley. The preventive agencies are all the more neces-
sary where heredity emphasises the universal natural tendency.
The taint of crime is all the more potent in those whose
parentage is evil. The germ is far more likely to flourish
into baleful vitality if planted by congenital degeneracy.
This is constantly seen with the offspring of criminals. But
it is equally certain that the poison may be eradicated, the
evE stamped out, if better influences supervene betimes.
Even the most ardent supporters of the theory of the
" born criminal " admit that this, as some think, apocryphal
monster, although possessing all the fatal characteristics,
need not necessarily commit crime. The bias may be
checked it may lie latent through life unless called into
GBIME PERENNIAL. 3
activity by certain unexpected conditions of time and chance.
An ingenious refinement of tJbe old adage, "Opportunity
makes the thief," has been invented by an Italian scientist,
Baron Garofalo, who has written that " Opportunity only
reveals the thief" ; it does not create the predisposition, the
latent thievish spirit/
However it may originate, there is still little doubt of the
universality, of the perennial activity of crime. We may accept
the unpleasant fact without theorising further as to the
genesis of crime. I propose in these pages to take criminals
as I find them ; to accept crime as an actual fact, and in its
varied multiform manifestations; to deal with its commis-
sion, the motives that have causfed it, the methods by which
it has been perpetrated, the steps taken — sometimes extraor-
dinarily ingenious and astute, sometimes foolishly forgetful
and ineffective — to conceal the deed and throw the pursuers
off the scent; on the other hand, I shall set forth in some
detail the agencies employed for detection and exposure.
The subject is comprehensive, the amount of material avail-
able is colossal, almost overwhelming.
Every country, civilised and uncivilised, the whole world
at large in aU ages, has been continually cursed with crime.
From Cain the first murderer to the last case reported in
the morning paper is a long record; between Jacob
cheating Esau of his birthright to the modern swindler
who robs the widow and the fatherless, there is an inter-
minable and infinitely varied roll of frauds. To deal with
but a fractional part of the evil deeds that have dis-
graced humanity would fiU endless volumes ; where " envy,
hatred, and all uncharitableness" have so often im-
pelled those weak in moral sense to yield to their criminal
instincts a full catalogue would be impossible. It must be
remembered that crime is ever active in seeking new outlets,
always keen to adopt new methods of execution ; the ingenuity
of criminals is infinite, their patient inventiveness is only
4 INTRODUGTION.
equalled by their reckless audacity. They will take life
without a moment's hesitation, and often for a miserable
gain ; will prepare great coups a year or more in advance
and wait still longer for the propitious moment to strike
home ; will employ address and great brain power, show fine
resource in organisation, the faculty of leadership, and readi-
ness to obey ; will utilise much technical skill ; will assume
strange disguises and play many different parts, all in the
prosecution of their nefarious schemes or in escaping penal-
ties after the deed is done.
With material so abundant, so varied and complicated, it
will be necessary to use some discretion, to follow certain clearly
defined lines of choice. I propose in these pages to adopt
the principle embodied in the title and to deal more
particularly with the "mysteries" of crime and its incomplete!
partial, or complete detection ; with offences not immediately
brought home to their perpetrators; offences prepared in
secret, committed by offenders who have remained long per-
haps entirely unknown, but who have sometimes met
with their true deserts ; offences that have in conse-
quence exercised the ingenuity of pursuers, showing the
highest development of the game of hide-and-seek, where
the hunt is man, where one side fights for life and liberty,
immunity from well-merited reprisals, the other is armed with
authority to capture the human beast of prey. The voyages
and vicissitudes of criminals with the poHce at their heels
make up a chronicle of moving hair-breadth adventure
unsurpassed by any ordinary books of travel and sport.
Typical cases can only be taken, one or more according to
their relative interest and importance, but aU more or less illus-
trating and embracing the many and hydra-headed varieties
of crime. We shall see murders most foul, surrounded with
the strangest conditions ; brutal and ferocious attacks, followed
by the most cold-blooded callousness in disposing of the
evidences of the crime. Some will kill, as Garofalo puts it,
GBIME8 OF GBEED. 5
" tor money and possessions, to succeed to property, to be rid
of one wife through hatred of her or to marry another,
to remove an inconvenient witness, to avenge a wrong, to
show his skill or his hatred and revolt against authority."
This class of criminal was well exemplified by the French
murderer Lacenaire, who boasted he would kill a man
as coolly as he would drink a glass of wine. They are the
deliberate murderers who kill of malice aforethought and
in cold blood. There wiU be slow, secret poisonings, often
producing confusion and difference of opinion among the
most distinguished scientists ; successful associations of
thieves and rogues, with ledgers and bank balances, and
regularly audited accounts ; secret societies, some formed
for purely flagitious ends with commerce and capitalists
for their quarry; others for alleged political purposes, but
working with fire and sword, using the forces of anarchy
and disorder against all established government.
The desire to acquire wealth and possessions easily, or at
least without prolonged honest exercise, has ever been a
fruitful source of crime. The depredators, whose name is
legion, the birds of prey ever on the alert to batten upon
the property of others, have flourished always, in all ages
and chmes, often unchecked or with long impunity. Their
methods have varied almost indefinitely with their sur-
roundings and opportunities. Now, they have used merely
violence and brute force, singly or in associated numbers, by
open attack by highway and byway, by road, river, railway, or
deep sea ; now, they have got at their quarry by consummate
patience and ingenuity, plotting, planning, undermining, or
overcoming the strongest safeguards, the most vigilant pre-
cautions. Robbery has been practised in every conceivable
form : by piracy, the bold adventure of the sea-rover flying
his black flag in the face of the world ; by brigandage in new
or distracted communities, imperfectly protected by the law ;
by daring outrage upon the travelling public, as highwaymen,
6 INTBOBUCTION.
bushrangers, road agents, " holders-up " of trains ; by the
forcible entry of premises or the breaking down of defences
designed against attack, by burglary in banks and houses,
by "winning" through the iron walls of safes and strong-
rooms, so as to reach the treasure within, whether gold,
or securities, or precious stones ; by robberies from the
person, daring garrotte robberies, and violent assaults;
dexterous neat-handed pilfering, pocket-picking, counter-
snatching; by insinuating approaches to simple folk, and
the astute, endlessly multiplied apphcatioh of the Con-
fidence Trick.
Crime has been greatly developed by civilisation, by the
numerous processes invented to add to the comforts and
conveniences in the business of daily life. The adoption of
a circulating medium was soon followed by the production
of spurious money, the hundred and one devices for substi-
tuting false for good, by forging notes, manufacturing coin, or
by clipping, sweating, and misusing that cast in precious
metals. The extension of banks, of credit, of financial trans-
actions on paper has encouraged the trade of the forger and
fabricator, whose misdeeds, aimed against monetary values ot
all kinds, cover an extraordinarily wide range. The gigantic
accumulation no less than the general diffusion of wealth,
with the variety of operations that accompany its profitable
manipulation, has offered temptations irresistibly strong to
evil or weak-minded people, who seemed to see chances ot
aggrandisement, or of ease from pressing embarrassments, with
the strong hope always of replacing abstractions, rectifying
defalcations, or altogether evading detection. Less criminal,
perhaps, but not less reprehensible, than the deliberately
planned colossal frauds of a Robson, a Redpath, or a Sadleir
are the victims to adverse circumstances, the Strahans, Dean-
Pauls, Fauntleroys, who succeeded to bankrupt businesses^
and sought to cover up insolvency with a fight, a losing fight,
against misfortune, adopting nefarious practices, wholesale
THE POLICE A BUCKLER. 7
forgery, absolute misappropriation, and unpardonable breaches
of trust.
Between these and the " high flyers," the artists in crime,
and the lesser fry, the rogues, swindlers, and fraudulent im-
postors, it is only a question of degree. These last-named,
too, have in many instances swept up great gains. The class
of adventurer is nearly limitless; it embraces many types,
often original in character and in their criminal methods,
clever knaves possessed of useful qualities, indeed, of talents
and natural gifts, that might have led them to assured
fortune had they but chosen the straight path and followed
it patiently. We shall see with what infinite labour a scheme
of imposture has been built up and maintained, how nearly
impossible it was to combat the fraud, how readily the
swindler will avail himself of the latest inventions, the tele-
graph and the telephone, ere long, perchance, the Kontgen
rays, of chemical appliances, of photography in counterfeiting
signatures or preparing bank-note plates ; we shall find the
most elaborate and cleverly designed attacks on great bank-
ing corporations, whether by open force or insidious methods
of forgery and falsification, attacks upon the vast stores of
valuables that luxury keeps at hand in jewellers' safes and
shop fronts, and on the dressing-tables of great dames. Crime
can always command talent, industry also, albeit laziness is
ingrained in the criminal class. The desire to win wealth
easily, to grow suddenly rich by appropriating the possessions
or the earnings of others, is, no doubt, a strong motive to crime ;
yet the depredator who will not work steadily and honestly
will give infinite time and pains to compass his criminal ends.
Society, weak, guUible, and defenceless, handicapped by
a thousand conventions, would soon be devoured alive by
its venomous parasites; but happily it has devised the
^ield and buckler of the police; not an entirely efiective
protector, perhaps, but earnest, devoted, unhesitating in
the performance of its duties. The personaUties, the finer
8 INTRODUCTION.
achievements of eminent police officers are as striking as the
exploits of the enemies they continually pursue. In the end-
less warfare, success inclines now to this side, now to that;
but the forces of law and order have generally the pre-
ponderance in the end. Infinite pains, unwearied patience,
abounding wit, sharp-edged intuition, promptitude in seizing
the vaguest shadow of a clue, unerring sagacity in clinging
to it and following it up to the substantial capture, these
quahties make constantly in favour of the police. The
fugitive is often equally alert, no less gifted, no less astute ;
his crime has been cleverly planned so as to leave few, if any,
traces easily or immediately apparent, but he is constantly
overmatched, and the game will in consequence go against
him. Now and again, no doubt, he is inexplicably stupid and
shortsighted, and will run his head straight into the noose.
Yet the hunters are not always free from the same fault ;
they will show blindness, will overrun their quarry, some-
times indeed open a door for escape.
In measuring the means and the comparative advantages
of the opponents, of hunted and hunters, it is generally
believed that the police have the best of it. The machinery
and organisation of modern life favours pursuit. The world s
" shrinkage," the faciUties of travel, the narrowing of neutral
ground, of secure sanctuary for the fugitive, the universal,
almost immediate, publicity that waits on starthng crimes,
all these are against the criminal Electricity is his worst
and bitterest foe, and next rank the post and the Press.
Flight is checked by the wire, the first mail carries fuU par-
ticulars everywhere, and to an ubiquitous international police,
brimful of camaraderie and willing to help each other. It
is not easy to disappear nowadays, although I have heard
the contrary stoutly maintained. A well-known police officer
once assured me that he could easily and effectually efface
himself, given certain conditions, such as the possession of
sufficient funds (and not of tainted origin that might draw
DI8APPEABAN0EB. 9
down suspicion), or the knowledge of some honest wage-
earning handicraft, or fluency in some foreign language,
and, above all, a face and features not easily recognisable.
Backed by any of these, he declared he could hide himself
completely in the East-End or the Western Hebrides or
South America or provincial France or some Spanish moun-
tain town. In proof of this he declared that he had lived
for many months in an obscure French village, and, being
well acquainted with French, passed quite unknown, while
watching for someone, and he strengthened his argument by
quoting the case of the heroine of a recent robbery of
pearls, who baffled pursuit for months, and gave herself up
voluntarily in the end.
On the other hand, it may be questioned whether this
lady was altogether hidden, or whether she was so terribly
" wanted " by the police. In any case pursuit was not so
keen as it would have been with more notorious criminals.
Nor can the many well-established cases of men and women
leading double lives be quoted in support of this view. Such
people are not necessarily in request; there may be a secret
reason for concealment, for dreading discovery, but it has
generally been of a social, a domestic, not necessarily a
criminal character. We have all heard of the crossing-
sweeper who did so good a trade that he kept his brougham
to bring him to business from a snug home at the other end
of the town. A case was quoted in the American papers
some years back where a merchant of large fortune traded
under one name, and was widely known under it, " down
town," yet lived under another "up town," where he had a
wife and large family. This remarkable dissembler kept up
the fraud for more than half a century, and when he died his
eldest son was fifty-one, the rest of his children were middle-
aged, and none of them had the smallest idea of their
father's wealth, or of his other identity. The case is not
singular, moreover. Another on all fours, and even more
10 INTBOBVCTION.
romantic, was that of two youths with different names, walking
side by side in the streets of New York, who saluted the same
man as father ; a gentleman with two distinct personalities.
Such deception may be long undetected when it is no
person's business to expose it. Where crime complicates it,
where the police are on the alert and have an object in hunt-
ing down, disappearance is seldom entirely successful. Dr.
Jekyll could not cover Mr. Hyde altogether when his homicidal
mania became ungovernable. The clergyman who hved a life
of sanctity and preached admirable sermons to an appreciative
congregation for five full years was run in at last and exposed
as a noted burglar in private Ufe. " Sir Granville Temple," as
he called himself, when he had committed bigamy several times,
was eventually uncloaked and shown up as an army deserter
whose father was master of a workhouse. Criminals who seek
effacement do not take into sufficient account the curiosity
and inquisitiveness of mankind. At times, jiist after the per-
petration of a great crime, when the criminal is missing,
and the pursuit at fault, every gossip, landlady, " slavey,"
local tradesman, 'bus conductor, lounger on the cab
rank, newsboy, railway guard, becomes an active amateur
agent of the police, prying, watching, wondering, looking
askance at every stranger and newcomer ; ready to call in the
constable on the slightest suspicion, or immediately report
any unusual circumstance. The rapid dissemination of news
to the four quarters of the land by our far-reaching, inde-
fatigable, and wide-awake Press has undoubtedly secured
many aiTcsts. The judicious publication of certain details,
of personal descriptions of names, aliases, and the supposed
movements of persons in request, has constantly borne fruit.
In France police officials often deprecate the incautious
utterances of the Press, but it is a common practice of
theirs in Paris to give out fully prepared items to the news-
papers with the express intention of deceiving their quarry;
the missing man has been luUed into fancied security by
VALUE OF PUBLICITY. 11
hearing that the pursuers are on a wrong scent, and, issuing
from concealment, " gives himself away."
Long ago, as far back as the murder of Lord William
Russell by Courvoisier, proof of the crime was greatly assisted
by the publication of the story in the Press. Madame
Piolaine, a hotel-keeper, read in the newspaper of the arrest
of a suspected person, recognising him as a man who had
been in her service as a waiter. Only a day or two after the
murder he had come to her, begging her to take charge of a
brown paper parcel, for which he would call. He had never
returned, and now Madame Piolaine hunted up the parcel
which lay at the bottom of a cupboard, where she had placed
it. The fact that Courvoisier had brought it justified her in
examining it, and she now found that it contained a quantity
of silver plate, and other articles of value. When the poUce
were called in, they identified the whole as part of the
property abstracted from Lord William Russell's. Here was
a Unk directly connecting Courvoisier with the murder.
Hitherto the evidence had been mainly circumstantial. The
discovery of Lord William's Waterloo medal, with his gold
rings and a ten-pound note under the skirting-board in
Courvoisier's pantry was strong suspicion, but no more. The
man had a gold locket, too, in his possession, the property of
Lord William Russell, but it had been lost some time ante-
cedent to the murder. All the evidence was presumptive,
and the case was not made perfectly clear until Madame
Piolaine was brought into it through the publicity given by
the Press.
In the murder of Mr. Briggs by the German, Franz
Miiller, detection was greatly facilitated by the publicity given
to the facts of the crime. The hat found in the railway
carriage where the deed had been done was a chief clue. It
bore the maker's name inside the cover, and very soon a
cabman who had read this in the newspaper came forward to
say he had bought that very hat at that very maker's for a
12 INTRODUCTION.
man named Miiller. Miiller had been a lodger of his, and had
given his little daughter a jeweller's cardboard box, bearing
the name of " Death, Cheapside." Already this Mr. Death
had produced the murdered man's gold chain, saying he had
given another in exchange for it to a man supposed to be a
German. There could be no doubt now that Mtlller was the
murderer. His movements were easily traced. He had gone
across the Atlantic in a sailing ship, and was easily forestalled
in a fast Atlantic liner, which carried the detective officers,
the jeweller, and the cabman.
Where identity is clear the publication of the signalement,
if possible, of the likeness has reduced capture to a certainty ;
it is a mere question then of time and money. Lefroy, the
murderer of Mr. Gold, was caught through the publicity given
to his portrait, which was published in the columns of a
London daily paper. Some eminent but highly cautious
police officers nevertheless deprecate the interference of the
Press, and have said that the premature or injudicious dis-
closure of facts obtained in the progress of investigation has
led to the escape of criminals. It is to be feared that there
is an increasing distrust of the official methods of detection,
and the Press is more and more inclined to institute a pursuit
of its own when mysterious cases continue unsolved. We
may yet see this, which has sometimes been adopted by ener-
getic reporters in Paris, more largely adopted. Without
entering into the pro's and con.'s of such competition, it is
but right to admit that the Press, with its powerful influence,
ramifications endless and widespread, has already done great
service to justice in following up crime. So convinced are
the London police authorities of the value of a public
organ for pohce purposes, that they publish a newspaper of
their own, the admirably managed Police Gazette, which is an
improved form of a journal started in 1828. This gazette,
which is circulated gratis to all police forces in the United
Kingdom, gives full particulars of crimes and of persons
AIDS TO BETEOTION. 13
"wanted," with rough but often life-like woodcut portraits
and sketches that help capture. Ireland has a similar organ-
the Dublin Hue and Cry ; and some of the chief constables
of counties send out police reports that are highly useful at
times. Through these various channels news travels quickly
to all parts, and puts all interested on the alert and active in
running down their prey.
Detection depends largely, of course, upon the know-
ledge, astuteness, ingenuity, and logical powers of police
officers, although they find many independent and often
unexpected aids, as we shall see. The best method of pro-
cedure is clearly laid down in police manuals ; instructions
for immediate systematic investigation on the theatre of
a crime, the minute examination of premises, the careful
search for tracks and traces, for any article left behind,
however insignificant, such as the merest fragment of
clothing, a scrap of paper, a harmless tool, a hat, half a
button, the slow, persistent inquiry into the antecedents of
suspected persons, of their friends and associates, their
movements and ways, unexplained change of domicile,
proved possession of substantial funds after previous indi-
gence, all these are detailed for the guidance of the detec-
tive-. It will be seen how small a thing has sufficed to
establish a clue. A name chalked upon a door in tell-tale
handwriting; four letters, half a word, scratched upon a
chisel, has led to the identification of its guilty owner; a
button dropped after a burglary has been found to corre-
spond with those on the coat of a man in custody for another
offence, and the very place from which it was torn ; the
cloth used to enclose human remains has been recognised
as that used by tailors, and the same with the system of
sewing, thus narrowing inquiry to a particular class of
workmen; the position of a body has shown that death
could not have been accidental; the imperishable nature of
a false tooth has sufficed for proof of identity when every
14 INTBOBUGTION.
other vestige lias been anniliilated. by fire. In one clear
case of murder, detection was aided by the discovery of a few
half-burnt matches that the criminal had burnt in lighting
candles in his victim's room to keep up the illusion that he was
still alive. A dog, belonging to a murdered man, had been seen
to leave the house with him on the morning of the crime, and
was yet found fourteen days later alive and well, with fresh
food by him, in the locked-up apartment to which the ocbupier
had never returned. The strongest evidence against Patch,
the murderer of Mr. Blight at Kotherhithe, was that the
shot which did the deed could not have been fired from
the road outside, and the first notion of this was suggested
by the doctor called in, afterwards eminent as Sir Astley
Cooper. In the Gervais case proof depended greatly upon
the date when the roof of a cellar had been disturbed, and
this was shown to have been necessarily some time before,
for in the interval the cochineal insects had laid their eggs,
and this only takes place at a particular season. We shall
see in the Voirbo case how an ingenious police officer,
when he found bloodstains on a floor, discovered where a
body had been buried by emptying a can of water on the
uneven stones and following the channels in which it ran.
Finger-prints and foot-marks have been worked cleverly into
undeniable evidence. The impression of the first is personal
and peculiar to the individual ; by the latter the police have
been able to fix beyond question the direction in which
criminals have moved, their character and class, and the
neighbourhood that owns them. The labours of the scientist
have within the last few years produced new methods of
identification, which are invaluable in the pursuit and
detection of criminals. The patient investigations of a
medical expert, M. Bertillon, of Paris, have discovered and
proved beyond all question that certain measurements of the
human frame are not only constant and unchangeable, but
pecuhar to each subject; the width of the head, the length of
" BEBTILLONAGE." 15
the face, of the middle finger, of the lower limbs from knee
to foot, and others provide so many combinations that no
two persons, speaking broadly, possess them all exactly alike.
This has established the system of anthropometry, of "man
measurement," which has now been adopted by every
civilised nation in the world on the same lines, so that ere
long criminals who are catalogued properly can be recognised
and identified in any country where " Bertillonage " is in
force. No less remarkable are the results obtained by Mr.
Francis Galton with the human finger prints. He has also
proved that these, exhibited in certain unalterable combina-
tions, sufiice to fix individual identity, and his system ot
notation, as now practised in England, in conjunction with
the measurements above mentioned, will some day provide
a general register of all known criminals in the country.
The ineffaceable odour of musk and other strong scents
has more than once brought home robbery and murder to
their perpetrators. A most interesting case is recorded by
General Harvey,* where, in the plunder of a native banker
and pawnbroker in India, an entire pod of musk, just as
it had been excised from the deer, was carried off with a
number of valuables. Musk is a costly commodity, for it is
rare, obtained generally from far-off Thibet. The police, in
following up the dacoits, invaded their tanda, or encamp-
ment, and were at once conscious of an unmistakable and
overpowering smell of musk, which was presently dug up
with a number of rupees, coins of an uncommon currency.
In another instance a scent merchant's agent returning from
Calcutta, brought back with him a flask of otto of " keora,"
or spikenard, much used in idol worship. He travelled
up country by boat part of the way, then landed to com-
plete the journey, and carried with him the spikenard. He
feU among thieves, a small gang of professional poisoners,
who disposed of him: killed him and his companions and
* "Eecords of Indian Crime," ii., 158.
16 INTIiODUGTION.
threw them into the river. Long afterwards the criminals,
who had appropriated all their goods, were detected by
the tell-tale smell of the spikenard in their house, and the
flask of keora, nearly emptied, was discovered beneath a
stack of fuel in a small room. Yet again, the strong smell
of opium led to the detection of a robbery in the Punjaub,
where a train of bullock carts laden with that valuable
drug was plundered by dacoits. After a short struggle
the bullock drivers bolted, the thieves seized the opium
and buried it. But, returning through a village, they were
intercepted as suspicious characters, and it was found that
their clothes smelt strongly of opium. Then their foot-
steps were traced back to where they had committed the
robbery, and thence to a spot in the dry bed of a river
in which the opium was found buried.
Among the many outside aids to detection, luck, blind
chance, takes a very prominent place. We shall come upon
innumerable instances of this. Troppmann, the wholesale
murderer, was taken up quite by accident, because his papers
were not in proper form. He might still have escaped pro-
longed arrest had he not run for it and tried to drown himself
in the harbour at Havre. The chief of a band of French
burglars was arrested in a street quarrel, and was found to be
carrying a great part of the stolen bonds in his pocket. When
Charles Peace was taken at Blackheath in the act of burglary,
and charged with wounding a policeman, no one suspected
that this supposed half-caste mulatto, with his dyed skin, was
a murderer much wanted in another part of the country.
Every good police officer freely admits the assistance he has
had from fortune. One of these — famous, not to say notorious,
for he fell into bad ways — described to me how he was much
thwarted and baffled in a certain case by his inability to come
upon the person he was after or any trace of him, and how,
meeting a strange face in the street, a sudden impulse prompted
him to turn and follow it, with the satisfactory result that
SUPERSTITION AND LUCK. 17
he was led straight to his desired goal. The same officer
confessed that the chance of seeing a letter delivered by the
postman at a certain door tempted him to become possessed
of the letter, and he did not hesitate to steal it. When
he had opened and read it, he found- the clue of which he
was in search.
Criminals themselves believe strongly in luck, and in some
cases are most superstitious. An Italian, whose speciality was
sacrilege, never broke into a church without kneeling down
before the altar to pray for good fortune and large booty. The
whole system of Thuggee was based on superstition. The
bands never operated without taking the omens ; noting the
flight of birds, the braying of a jackass to right or left and
so on, interpreting them as warnings or encouragements to
proceed. This superstitious belief in good and bad luck
is still prevalent. A notorious bank-note forger in France
carefully abstained from counterfeiting notes of two values,
those for 500 francs and 2,000 francs, being convinced that
they would bring him into trouble. Thieves, it has been
noticed, generally foUow one line of business, because a
first essay in it was successful. The man who steals coats
continually steals them ; once a horse thief always a horse
thief; the forger sticks to his line, as does the pickpocket,
the burglar, and the performer of the confidence trick, who
repeats the operation in the same hackneyed fashion time
after time. The burglar dislikes extremely the use of any
tools or instruments but his own ; he generally believes that
another man's false keys, jemmies, and so forth, would
bring him bad luck. Only in matter-of-fact America the
cracksman rises superior to superstition, and a good business
is done by certain people who lend house-breaking tools
on hire.
Instinct, aboriginal and animal, has helped at times. The
mediaeval story of the dog of Montargis may be mere fable,
yet it rests on historic tradition that after Macaire had
18 INTBODUGTION.
murdered Aubry de Montdidier in the forest of Bondy, the ex-
traordinary aversion shown by the dog to Macaire first aroused
suspicion, and led to the ordeal of mortal combat, in which
the dog triumphed. The strange, almost superhuman, powers
of the Australian blacks in foUowing blind, invisible tracks
have been turned to good account in the pursuit of crime.
Their senses of sight, smell, and touch are abnormally acute.
They can distinguish the trail of lost animals one from the
other, and follow it for hundreds of miles. Like the Red
Indians of North America, they judge by a leaf, a blade of
grass, a mere splash in the mud ; they can tell with unfailing
precision whether the ground has been recently disturbed, as
well as what has passed over it.
A remarkable instance occurred in the colony of Victoria
in 1851, when a stockholder, travelling up to Melbourne with
a considerable sum of money, disappeared. His horse had
returned riderless to the station, and without saddle or bridle.
A search was at once instituted, but proved fruitless. The
horse's hoof-marks were followed to the very boundary of the
run, near which stood a hut occupied by two shepherds.
These men, when questioned, declared that neither man nor
horse had passed that way. Then a native who worked on the
station was pressed into the service, and starting from the
house, walking with downcast eyes and occasionally putting
his nose to the ground, he easily followed the horse's track to
the shepherds' hut, where he at once offered some information.
" Two white mans walk here," he said, pointing to indications
he alone could discover on the ground. A few yards further
he cried, " Here fight ! here large fight ! " and it was seen that
the grass had been trampled down. Again, close at hand, he
shouted in great excitement, " Here kill — kill ! " A minute
examination of the spot showed that the earth had been
moved recently, and on turning it over a quantity of clotted
blood was found below.
There was nobody, however, definitely to prove foul play,
AUSTRALIAN BLACKS. 19
and further search was necessary. The black now discovered
the tracks of men by the banks of a small stream hard by,
which formed the boundary of the run. The stream was
shrunk to a tiny thread after the long drought, and here and
there was swallowed up by sand. But it gathered occasionally
into deep, stagnant pools, which marked its course. Each
of these the native examined, still finding footmarks on the
margin. At last thoy reached a pond larger than any, wide,
and seemingly very deep. The tracker, after circling round
and round the bank, said the trail had ceased, and bent all
his attention upon the surface of the water, where a quantity
of dark scum was floating. Some of this he skimmed
off", tasted and smelt it, and decided positively — " White
man here."
The pond was soon dragged with grappling-irons and long
spears, and presently a large sack was brought up, which was
found to contain the mangled remains of the missing stock-
holder. The sack had been weighted with many stones to
prevent it from rising to the surface.
Suspicion fell upon the two shepherds who lived in the
hut on the boundary of the run. One was a convict on
ticket-of-leave, the other a deserter from a regiment in
England. Both had taken part in the search, and both had
appeared much agitated and upset as the black's marvellous
discoveries were laid bare. Both, too, incautiously urged that
the search had gone far enough, and protested against examin-
ing the ponds. While this was in progress, and unobserved
by them, a magistrate and two constables went to their hut
and searched it thoroughly. They first sent away an old
woman who acted as the shepherds' servant, and then turned
over the place. Nothing was found in the hut, but in an
outhouse they came upon a coat and waistcoat and two pairs of
trousers, aU much stained with fresh blood-marks. On this
the shepherds were arrested and sent down to Melbourne.
What had become of the saddle-bags in which the
20 INTBOBUOTION.
murdered man had carried his cash ? It was surmised that
they had been put by in some safe place, and again the ser-
vices of the native tracker were sought. He now made a
start from the shepherds' hut, and discovered as before, by
sight and smell, the tracks of two men's feet travelling north-
ward. These took him to a gully or dry watercourse, in the
centre of which was a high pile of stones. The tracks ended
at a stone on the side, when the native said he smelt leather.
When several stones had been taken down, the saddle-bags,
saddle, and bridle were found hidden in an inner receptacle.
The money, the motive of the murder, was still in the bags —
no less than £2,000 — and had been left there, no doubt, for
removal at a more convenient time.
The shepherds were put on their trial, and the evidence
thus accumulated was deemed convincing by a jury. It was
also proved that the blood-stained clothes had been worn by
the prisoners both on the day before and on the very day of
the murder. The stains were ascertained by chemical analysis
to be of human blood, not of sheep, as set up by the defence.
It was also shown that the men had been absent from the
hut the greater part of the morning of the murder. They
were executed at Melbourne.
This extraordinary faculty of following a trail is character-
istic of all the Australian blacks. These aborigines have
repeatedly shown equal cleverness in this respect. It was
especially remarkable in a Queensland case, where a man was
missing who was supposed to have been murdered, and whose
remains were discovered by the black trackers. An aged shep-
herd, who had long served on a certain station, was at last sent
off with a considerable sum, arrears of pay. He started down
country, but was never heard of again. Various suspicious
reports started a belief that he had been the victim of foul play.
The police were called in, and proceeded to make a thorough
search, assisted by several blacks, who usually hang about the
station, loafing idly. But they lost their native indolence when
ABORIGINAL INSTINCT. 21
there was tracking to be done. Now they were roused to
keenest excitement, and entered eagerly into the work, jabber-
ing and gesticulating, with flashing eyes. No one, to look
at these eyes, generally dull and bleary, could imagine that
they possessed such visual powers, or that their owners were
so shrewdly observant. The search commenced at the hut
lately occupied by the missing shepherd. The first discovery,
lying among the ashes of the hearth, was a spade, which
might have been used as a weapon of offence ; spots on it, as
the blacks declared, were of blood. Other similar spots were
pointed out upon the hard, well-trodden ground outside, and
the track led to a creek or water-hole, on the banks of which
the blacks picked up among the tufts of short dried grass
several locks of reddish-white hair, invisible to everyone else.
The depths of the water were now probed with long poles,
and the blacks presently fished up a blucher boot with an iron
heel. The hair and the boot were both believed to belong to
the missing shepherd. The trackers still found locks of hair,
following them to a second water-hole, where all traces ceased,
and it was supposed by some that the body lay there at the
bottom. Not so the blacks, who asserted that it had now
been lifted upon horseback for removal to a more distant spot,
and in proof pointed out hoof-^marks, which had escaped
observation until they detected them. The hoof-marks
were large and small, obviously of a mare and her foal. Yet
the water-hole was searched thoroughly ; the blacks stripped
and dived, they smelt and tasted the water, but always
shook their heads, and, as a matter of fact, nothing was found
in this second creek. The pursuit returned to the hoof-
marks, and they were followed to the edge of a scrub, where
they were lost.
Next day, however, they were again picked up on the hard,
bare ground, where there was hardly a blade of grass. They
led to the far-off edge of a plain, towards where, in the distance,
a small spiral column ascended into the sky. It was the
22 INTBOBUGTION.
remains of an old and dilapidated sheep-yard, which had been
burnt by the station overseer. This individual, it should have
been premised, had all along been suspected of making away
with the shepherd from interested motives, having been the
depository of his savings. And it was remembered that he
had paid several visits in the last few days to the burning
sheep-yard. Now, when the search party reached the spot,
where little but charred and smouldering embers remained,
the blacks eagerly turned over the ashes. Suddenly a woman,
a black " gin," screamed shrilly, and cried, " Bones sit down
here," and closer examination disclosed a heap of calcined
human remains. Small portions of the skull were still un-
consumed, and a few teeth were found, quite perfect, having
altogether escaped the action of the fire. Soon the buckle of
a belt was found, and identified as having been worn by the
missing shepherd, and the iron heel of a boot corresponding
to that found in the first water-hole. Thus the marvellous
sagacity of the black trackers had ended the mystery of the
shepherd's disappearance, but, although the shepherd's fate
was thereby established beyond doubt, the evidence was not
suflScient to bring home the crime of murder to the overseer.
Not the least useful of the many allies found by the police
are the criminals themselves. Their shortsightedness is often
extraordinary; even when seemingly most careful to cover
up their tracks they will neglect some small point, will drop
unconsciously some slight clue, which, sooner or later,
must betray them. In an American murder, at Michigan,
a man killed his wife in the night by braining her with a
heavy club. His story was that his bedroom had been entered
through the window by some unknown murderer. This
theory was at once disproved by the fact that no one could
have reached from the window to the bed, but still more by
the fact that this window was still nailed down on one side.
The real murderer in planning the crime had extracted one nail
and left the other. The detection of the thieves and murderers
STUPIDITY OF CRIMINALS. 23
of M. Delahache, a misanthrope who lived with a paralysed
mother and one old servant in a ruined abbey at La Gloire
Dieu, near Troyes, was much facilitated by the carelessness
with which the criminals neglected to carry off a note-book
from the safe. After they had slain their three victims, they
forced the safe and carried off a large quantity of securities
payable to bearer, for M. Delahache was a saving, weU-to-do
person. They took all the gold and bank-notes, but they left
the title-deeds of the property and his memorandum book, in
which the late owner had recorded in shorthand, illegible by
the thieves, the numbers and description of the stock he
held, mostly in Russian and English securities. By means
of these indications it was possible to trace the stolen papers
and secure the thieves who still possessed them, with the
pocket-book itself and a number of other valuables that
had belonged to M. Delahache.
Criminals continually "give themselves away" by their
own carelessness, their stupid, incautious behaviour. It is
almost an axiom in detection to watch the scene of a murder
for the visit of the criminal, who seems almost irresistibly
drawn thither. The same impulse attracts the French
murderer to the Morgue, where his victim Ues in full public
view. This is so thoroughly understood in Paris that the
police keep officers in plain clothes among the crowd which
is always filing past the plate-glass windows separating the
public from the marble slopes on which the bodies are ex-
posed. An Indian criminal's steps generally lead him home-
ward to his own village, on which the Indian police set a close
watch when a man is much wanted. Numerous instances
might be quoted in which offenders disclose their crime by
ill-advised ostentation ; the reckless display of much cash by
those who were, seemingly, poverty-stricken just before ; self-
indulgent extravagance, throwing money about wastefully, not
seldom parading in the very clothes of their victims. A
curious instance of the neglect of common precaution was that
24 INTRODUCTION.
of Wainwright, the murderer of Harriet Lane, who left the
corpus delicti, the damning proof of his guilt, to the prying
curiosity of an outsider, while he went off in search of a cab.
One of the most remarkable instances of the want of
reticence in a great criminal and his detection through his
own foolishness occurred in the case of Mullins, the Stepney
murderer, who betrayed himself to the police when they were
really at fault, and their want of acuteness was the subject of
much caustic criticism. The victim in this case was an aged
woman of eccentric character and extremely parsimonious
habits, who lived entirely alone, only admitting a woman to
help her in the house-work for an hour or two every day.
She owned a good deal of house property, let out in
tenements to the working classes. As a rule she collected the
rents herself, and was believed to have considerable sums
from time to time in her house. This made her timid ; being
naturally of. a suspicious nature, she fortified herself inside
with closed shutters and locked doors, never opening to a soul
until she had closely scrutinised any visitor. It called for no
particular remark that for several days she had not issued
forth. She was last seen on the evening of the 13th August.
When people came to see her on business on the 14th, 15th
and 16th, she made no response to their loud knockings, but
her strange habits were well known ; moreover, the neigh-
bourhood was so densely inhabited that it was thought
impossible she could have been the victim of foul play.
At last, on the 17th August, a shoemaker, named Emm,
whom she sometinies employed to collect rents at a distance,
went to Mrs. Elmsley's lawyers and expressed his alarm at her
non-appearance. The police were consulted, and decided to
break into the house. Its owner was foimd lying dead on the
floor in a lumber-room at the top of the house. Life had been
extinct for some days, and death had been caused by blows
on the head with a heavy plasterer's hammer. The body lay
in a pool of blood, which also splashed the walls, and a bloody
BETRAYED BY BABBLING. 25
footprint was impressed on the floor, pointing outwards from
the room. There were no appearances of forcible entry to the
house, and the conclusion was fair that whoever had done the
deed had been admitted by Mrs. Elmsley in all good faith.
A possible clue to the criminal was afforded by the several
rolls of wall-paper lying about near the corpse. Mrs. Elmsley
was in the habit of employing workmen on her own account
to carry out repairs and decorations in her houses, and the
indications pointed to her having been visited by one of these,
who had perpetrated the crime. Yet the police made no
useful deductions from these data.
While they were still at fault, a man, named MuUins, a
plasterer by trade, who knew Mrs. Elmsley well and who had
often worked for her, came forward voluntarily to throw
some light on the mystery. A month had nearly elapsed
since the murder, and during this long period Mullins's
attention had been drawn to the man Emm and his suspicious
conduct. MuUins had served in the Irish constabulary; his
powers of observation had been quickened by this early train-
ing, and he soon saw that Emm had something to conceal.
He had watched him, had frequently seen him leave his
cottage and proceed stealthily to a neighbouring brickfield,
laden on each occasion with a parcel he did not bring back.
Mullins, after giving this information quite unsought, led the
police officers to the spot, and into a ruined outbuilding,
where a strict search was made. Behind a stone slab they
discovered a paper parcel containing articles which were at
once identified as part of the murdered woman's property.
Mullins next accompanied the police to Emm's house, and
saw the supposed criminal arrested. But to his utter amaze-
ment the pohce turned on Mullins and also took him into
custody. Something in his manner had aroused suspicion,
and rightly, for eventually he was convicted and hanged for
the crime.
Here Mullins had only himself to thank. Whatever the
26 INTROnnOTION.
impulse — that strange restlessness that often affects the secret
murderer, or the consuming fear that the scent was hot, and
his guilt must be discovered unless he could shift suspicion —
it is certain that but for his own act he would never have
been arrested. It may be interesting to complete this case,
and show how further suspicion settled around MuUins. The
parcel found in the brickfield was tied up with a tag end
of tape ; a bit of a dirty apron string. A precisely similar
piece of tape was discovered in Mullins's lodgings lying upon
the mantelshelf. There was an inner parcel fastened with
waxed cord. The idea with MuUins was, no doubt, to suggest
that the shoemaker Emm had used cobbler's wax. But a
piece of wax was also found in Mullins's possession, besides
several articles belonging to the deceased.
The most conclusive evidence was the production of a
plasterer's hammer, which was also found in Mullins's house.
It was examined under the microscope, and proved to be
stained with blood. MuUins had made away with an old
boot, which had been picked up under the window of a room
he occupied. This boot fitted exactly into the blood-stained
footprint on the floor in Mrs. Elmsley's lumber-room ; more-
over, two nails protruding from the sole corresponded with two
holes in the board, and, again, a hole in the middle of the sole
was filled up with dried blood. So far as Emm was con-
cerned, he was able clearly to establish an alibi, while
witnesses were produced who swore to having seen MuUins
coming across Stepney Green at dawn on the day of the crime
with bulging pockets stuffed full of something, and going
home ; he appeared much perturbed and trembled all over.
Mullins was found guilty without hesitation, and the
judge expressed himself perfectly satisfied with the verdict.
The case was much discussed in legal circles and in the
Press, and all opinions were unanimously hostile to MuUins.
The convict steadfastly denied his guilt to the last, but
left a paper exonerating Emm. It is diflScult to reconcile
POLICE FAILURES. 27
this with his denunciation of that innocent man, except on
the grounds of his own guilty knowledge of the real murderer.
In any case, it was he himself who first Hfted the veil
and stupidly brought justice down on himself.
There have, however, been occasions when detection
has failed more or less completely. The police do not
admit always that the perpetrators remain unknown; they
have clues, suspicion, strong presumption, even more, but
there is a gap in the evidence forthcoming, and to attempt
prosecution would be to face inevitable breakdown. To this
day it is held at Scotland Yard that the real murderer in
the Great Coram Street case was discovered by the police,
but that the case failed before an artfully planned alihi.
Sometimes an arrest is made on grounds that afford strong
primd facie evidence, yet the case breaks down in court.
The BurdeU murder in 1857, in New York, was one of these.
Dr. BurdeU was a wealthy and eccentric dentist, owning a
house in Bond Street, the greater part of which he let out in
tenements. One of his tenants was a Mrs. Cunningham, to
whom he became engaged, and whom, according to one
account, he married. In any case, they quarrelled furiously,
and Dr. BurdeU warned her she must leave the house, as he
had let her rooms. Whereupon she told him significantly that
he might not live to sign the agreement. Shortly afterwards
he was found murdered, stabbed with fifteen wounds, and all
the signs of a violent struggle. The wounds must have been
inflicted by a left-handed person, and Mrs. Cunningham was
proved to be left-handed. The facts were strong against her,
and she was arrested, but acquitted on trial. It came out long
afterwards that the detectives were absolutely right about
the mysterious Road (Somerset) murder, and that Inspector
Whicher, of Scotland Yard, in fixing the crime on Constance
Kent, had worked out the case with singular acumen. He elicited
the motive — her jealousy of the little brother, one of a second
family; he built up the clever theory of the abstracted
28 INTBODUGTION.
nightdress, and obtained what he considered sufficient proof.
It will be remembered that this accusation was denounced as
frivolous and unjust. Mr. Whicher was overwhelmed with so
much ridicule that he soon afterwards retired from the force,
and died, it was said, of a broken heart. His failure, as it
was called, threw suspicion upon others : Mr. Kent, the father
of the murdered child, Gough, the boy's nurse, and both were
apprehended and charged, but the cases were dismissed. In the
end, as all the world knows, Constance Kent, who had entered
an Anglican sisterhood, made full confession to the Rev. Mr.
Wagner, of Brighton, and she was duly convicted of murder.
Although sentence of death was passed, it was commuted, and
I had her in my charge at Millbank for years.
The outside public may think that the identity of that later
miscreant, " Jack the Ripper," was never revealed. So far as
actual knowledge goes, this is undoubtedly true. But the police,
after the last murder, had brought their investigations to the
point of strongly suspecting several persons, all of them known
to be homicidal lunatics, and against three of these they held
very plausible and reasonable grounds of suspicion. Con-
cerning two of them the case was weak, although it was based
on certain colourable facts. One was a Polish Jew, a known
lunatic, who was at large in the district of Whitechapel at the
time of the murder, and who, having afterwards developed
homicidal tendencies, was confined in an asylum. This man
was said to resemble the murderer by the one person who got
a gUmpse of him — the pohce-constable in Mitre Court. The
second possible criminal was a Russian doctor, also insane,
who had been a convict both in England and Siberia. This
man was in the habit of carrying about surgical knives and
instruments in his pockets ; his antecedents were of the very
worst, and at the time of the Whitechapel murders he was in
hiding, or, at least, his whereabouts were never exactly known.
The third person was of the same type, but the suspicion in
his case was stronger, and there was every reason to believe
JACK THE BIPPEB. 29
that his own friends entertained grave doubts about him. He
also was a doctor in the prime of life, was believed to be
insane or on the borderland of insanity, and he disappeared
immediately after the last murder, that in Miller's Court,
on the 9th of November, 1888. On the last day of that year,
seven weeks later, his body was found floating in the Thames,
and was said to have been in the water a month. The theory
in this case was that after his last exploit, which was the most
fiendish of all, his brain entirely gave way, and he became
furiously insane and committed suicide. It is at least a strong
presumption that " Jack the Eipper " died or was put under
restraint after the Miller's Court affair, which ended this series
of crimes. It would be interesting to know whether in this
third case the man was left-handed or ambidextrous, both
suggestions having been advanced by medical experts after
viewing the victims. Certainly other doctors disagreed on
this point, which may be said to add another to the many
instances in which medical evidence has been conflicting,
not to say confusing.
Yet the incontestable fact remains, unsatisfactory and dis-
quieting, that many murder mysteries have baffled all inquiry,
and that the long list of undiscovered crimes continually
receives many mysterious additions. An erroneous impres-
sion, however, prevails that such failures are more common in
Great Britain than elsewhere. No doubt the British police are
greatly handicapped by the law's limitations, which in England
act always in protecting the accused. But with all their ad-
vantages, the power to make arrests on suspicion, to interrogate
the accused parties and force on self-incrimination — the Con-
tinental police meet with many rebuff's. Numbers of cases
are " classed," as it is officially called in Paris, that is, pigeon-
holed for ever and a day, wanting sufficient proofs for trial,
in the utter absence indeed of any suspected person to try.
In every country, and in all times, past and present, there
have been crimes that defied detection. The memory of one
30 INTRODUCTION.
or two of the older and half-forgotten cases may be revived
as Ukely to interest, and perhaps console, people who may
imagine that great criminals enjoy greater immunity from
detection to-day than heretofore.
Feuerbach, in his record of criminal trials in Bavaria,
tells of the unsolved murder mystery of one Rupprecht, a
notorious usurer of Munich, who was killed, in 1817, at one
stroke, at the doorway of a public tavern not fifty yards from
his own residence. Yet his murderer was never discovered.
The tavern was called the " heU " ; it was a place of evil resort,
for Rupprecht, a mean, parsimonious old curmudgeon, v/as
fond of low company and spent most nights here swal-
lowing beer and cracking jokes with his friends. One night
the landlord, returning from his cellar, heard a voice in the
street asking for Rupprecht, and going up to the drinking
saloon conveyed the message. Rupprecht went down to see
his visitor and never returned. Within a minute deep groans
were heard as of a person Lq a fit or extreme pain. AU rushed
downstairs and found the old man lying in a pool of blood
just inside the front door. There was a gaping wound in his
head, but he was not unconscious, and kept repeating,
" Wicked rogue ! wicked villain ! the axe ! the axe ! "
The wound had been inflicted by some sharp instrument,
possibly a sword or sabre, wielded by a powerful hand.
The victim must have been taken unawares when his back
was turned. The theory constructed by the police was that
the murderer had waited within the porch out of sight, stand-
ing on a stone bench in a dark corner near the street door ;
that Rupprecht, finding no one to explain the summons, had
looked out into the street and then gone back into the house.
After he had turned the blow had been struck. Thus not
a scrap of a clue was left on the theatre of the crime. But
Rupprecht was still alive and able to answer simple questions.
A judge was summoned to interrogate him, and asked, " Who
struck you ? " " Schmidt," replied Rupprecht. " Which
AN UNDI800VEBEB GRIME. 31
Schmidt?" "Schmidt the woodcutter." Further inquiries
elicited statements that Schmidt had used a hatchet, that he
lived in the Most, that they had quarrelled some time before.
Rupprecht said he had recognised his assailant, and he went
on muttering " Schmidt, Schmidt, woodcutter, axe." To find
Schmidt was naturally the first business of the police. The
name was as common as Smith is with us, and many Schmidts
were woodcutters. Three Schmidts were suspected ; one
was a known confederate of thieves, another had been inti-
mate but afterwards was on bad terms with Rupprecht, this
was " Big Schmidt ; " the third, his brother, " Little Schmidt,"
also knew Rupprecht. All three, although none lived in the
Most, were arrested and confronted with Rupprecht, but he
recognised none of them, and he died next day, having
become speechless and unconscious at the last. Only the
first Schmidt seemed guilty; he was much agitated when
interrogated, he contradicted himself, and could give no good
account of the employment of his time when the offence was
committed. Moreover, he had a hatchet ; it was examined
and spots were found upon it undoubtedly of blood. He was
brought into the presence of the dead Rupprecht, and was
greatly overcome with terror and agitation.
Yet after the first accusation he offered good rebutting
evidence. He explained the stain by saying he had a
chapped hand which bled, and when it was pointed out that
this was the right hand, which would be at the other end
of the axe shaft, he was able in reply to prove that he
was left-handed ; again, the wound in the head was con-
siderably longer than the blade of the axe, and the blow from
an axe cannot be drawn along after it has been struck. The
murderer's cries had been heard by the landlord, inquiring
for Rupprecht, but it was not Schmidt's voice. There was
an alibi, moreover, or as good. Schmidt was at his mother-
in-law's, and was to have gone home a little before the
murder ; soon after it, his wife found him in bed and asleep.
32 INTBODUCTION.
If he had committed the crime he must have jumped out
of bed again almost at once, run more than a mile, wounded
Rupprecht, returned, gone back to bed, and to sleep, in
less than an hour. Further, it was shown by trustworthy-
evidence that this Schmidt knew nothing of the murder
after it had occurred.
The police drew blank also with " Big Schmidt " and
" Little Schmidt," neither of whom had left home on the night
of the murder. They were no more successful with other
Schmidts, although every one of the name had been examined,
and it was now realised that the last delirious words of the
dying man had led them astray. But while hunting up the
Schmidts it was not forgotten by the police that Rupprecht
had also cried out, " My daughter ! my daughter ! " after he
had been struck down. This might have been from the desire
to see her in his last moments. On the other hand, he was
estranged from this daughter, and that he hated his son-in-
law especially. They were no doubt a cold-blooded pair
these Bieringers, as they were called. The daughter showed
little emotion when she heard her father had been wounded
mortally ; she looked at him as he lay, without emotion, and
had so little lost her appetite that she devoured a whole basin
of soup in the house. It was suspicious, too, that she tried
to fix the guilt on " Big Schmidt." Bieringer was a man of
superior station, well bred, and well educated ; and he lived
on very bad terms with his wife, who was coarse, vulgar, and
of violent temper like her father, and once at his instance
she was imprisoned for forty-eight hours. Rupprecht sided
with his daughter, and openly declared that in leaving
her his money he would tie it up so tightly that Bieringer
could not touch a penny. This he had said openly, and it
was twisted into a motive why Bieringer should remove
him before he could make such a will. But a suflScient
alibi was proved by Bieringer; his time was accounted for
satisfactorily on the night of the murder. The daughter
THE BUPPBEGHT MYSTERY. 33
was absolved from guilt, for even if she, a woman, could have
struck so shrewd a blow, it was not to her interest to kiU a
father who sided with her against her husband, and was on
the point of making a will in her favour.
Other arrests were made. Rupprecht's maid reported that
three trumpeters belonging to the regiment in garrison had
called on her master the very day of the murder ; one of them
owed him money which he could not pay, and the others it
was thought had joined him in trying to intimidate the
usurer. But the case of these troopers, men who could handle
the very weapon that did the deed, broke down on clear proof
that they were elsewhere at the time of the murder. The one
flaw in the otherwise acute investigation was that the sabres
of all the troopers had not been examined before so much
noise had been made about the murder. But from the first
attention had been concentrated on axes, wielded by wood-
cutters, and the probable use of a sabre had been overlooked.
After the trumpeters, two other callers had come, and
Rupprecht had given them a secret interview. One proved
to be the regimental master-tailor, who was seeking a loan
and had brought a witness to the transaction with him.
Their innocence was also clearly proved, and although
many more people were arrested they were in aU cases
discharged.
The murder of this Rupprecht has remained a mystery.
The only plausible suggestion was that he had been murdered
by some aggrieved person, some would-be borrower whom he
had rejected, or some debtor who could not pay and thought
this the simplest way of clearing his obligation. The
authorities could fix this on anyone, for Rupprecht made no
record of his transactions; he could neither read nor write,
and kept aU his accounts " in his head." Only on rare occasions
did he call in a confidential friend to look through his papers
when there was question of arranging them or finding a note
of hand. No one but Rupprecht himself could have afforded
34 INTBOBUGTION.
the proper clue ; and, as it was, lie had led the police in
the wrong direction.
Numerous murder mysteries have been contributed by
American criminal records. Especial interest attaches to the
case of Mary Kogers, " the pretty cigar seller " of New York,
who was done to death by persons unknown in 1840, because
it formed the basis of Edgar Allen Poe's famous story, " The
Mystery of Marie Roget." The scene of that story is Paris,
but the murder was actually committed near New York.
Mary Rogers had many admirers, but her character was good,
her conduct seemingly irreproachable. She was supposed to
have spent her last Sunday with friends, but was seen with a
single companion late that afternoon at a little restaurant near
Hoboken. As she never returned home her disappearance
caused much excitement, but at length her body, much
maltreated, was found in the water near Sybil's Cave, Hoboken.
Many arrests were made, but the crime was never brought
home to anyone.
Poe's suggested solution, the jealous rage of an old lover
returned from sea, was no more than ingenious fiction.
Among others upon whom suspicion fell was John Anderson,
the cigar merchant in whose employ Mary Rogers was, and it
was encouraged by his flight after the discovery of the murder.
But when arrested and brought back, he adduced what was
deemed satisfactory proof of an alihi. Anderson lived to
amass enormous wealth, and about the time of his death in
Paris in 1881 the evil reports of his complicity in the
murder were revived, but nothing new transpired. It was
said that in his later years Anderson became an ardent
spiritualist, and that the murdered Mary Rogers was one
among the many spirits he communed with.
The murder of Mary Rogers was not the only unsolved
mystery of its class beyond the Atlantic. It was long antedated
by that known as the Manhattan Well Mystery. The murder
occurred as far back as 1799, when New York was little more
DETECTION DEFIEB. 35
than a village as compared to its present size. The Manhattan
Company, now a bank, had then the privilege of supplying
the city with water. The well stood in an open field and all
passers-by had free access to it. One day the pretty niece of
a respectable Quaker disappeared ; she had left her home, it
was said, to be privately married, and nothing more was seen
of her till she was fished out of the Manhattan well. Some
thought she had committed suicide, but articles of her dress
were found at a distance from the well, including her shoes,
none of which she was likely to have removed and left there
before drowning herself. Her muff, moreover, was found in
the water ; why should she have retained that to the last ?
Suspicion rested upon the man whom she was to have
married, and who had called for her in his sleigh after she
had already left the house. This man was tried for his life,
but the case broke down, and the murder has always bafiled
detection. There was, later, in 1830, the mystery of Sarah M.
Cornell, in which suspicion fell upon a reverend gentleman of
the Methodist persuasion, who was acquitted. Again, in
1836, however, there was the murder of Helen Jewitt, which
was never cleared up ; and recently that of the Kyans, brother
and sister, while the murder of Annie Downey, commonly
called " Curly Tom," a New York flower-girl, recalls many of
the circumstances of the late murders in Whitechapel.
A great crime that altogether defied the New York
poHce occurred in 1870, and is stUl remembered as an extra-
ordinary mystery. It was the murder of a wealthy Jew
named Nathan, in his own house in Twenty-third Street.
He had come up from the country in July, for a religious
ceremony, and slept at home. His two sons, who were in
business, also lived in the Twenty-third Street house. The
only other occupant was a housekeeper. The sons returning
late one after the other looked in on their father and found
him sleeping peacefully. No noise disturbed the house during
the night, but early next morning Mr. Nathan was found a
36 INTRODUCTION.
shapeless mass upon the floor ; he had been killed with brutal
violence, and the weapon used, a ship carpenter's " dog," was
lying close by the body besmeared with blood and the grey
hairs. The dead man's pockets had been rifled, and all his
money and jewellery were gone; a safe that stood in the
corner of the bedroom had been forced and its contents
abstracted.
Various theories were started, but none led to the track of
the criminal. One of Mr. Nathan's sons was suspected, but
his innocence was clearly proved. Another person thought
to be guilty was the son of the resident housekeeper, but that
supposition also fell to the ground. Some of the police were
of opinion that it was the work of an ordinary burglar ; others
opposed this view, on the ground that the ship carpenter's
" dog " was not a housebreaking tool. One ingenious solution
was offered, and it may be commended to the romantic
novelist ; it was to the effect that Mr. Nathan held certain
documents gravely compromising the character of a person
with whom he had had business dealings, and this person had
planned and executed the murder in order to become re-
possessed of them. This theory had no definite support from
known fact ; but Mr. Nathan was a close, secretive man, who
kept all the threads of his financial affairs in his own hands,
and it was said that none in his family, not even his wife, was
aware what his safe held or what he carried in his pockets.
It is worth noticing that this last theory resembles very
closely the explanation suggested as a solution of the undis-
covered murder of Rupprecht in Bavaria, already described.
Taking a general view of the case as between hunted and
hunters, it may be fairly considered that the ultimate advan-
tage is with the last-named. We hear more of one instance
of failure than of ninety-nine successes. The first is pro-
claimed trumpet-tongued, the latter pass almost unnoticed
into the great garner of criminal reports and judicial or police
statistics. We are bound at least, and in common justice, to
IN PBAISJE OF THE POLIGK 37
give due credit to the ceaseless activity, the continual pains-
taking effort of the guardians of the public weal. Their
methods are the outcome of long patient experience, developed
and improved as time passes, and they have deserved, if not
always commanded, success. It may be that the ordinary
detective works a little too openly, at least, in this country ;
that his face and, till lately, his boots were well known in the
circles generally frequented by his prey. Again, there may be
at times slackness in pursuit, neglect or oversight of early clues.
Well-meaning but obstinate men will not keep a perfectly
open mind : they may cling too long and closely to a first
theory, wresting their opinions and forcing acquired facts to
fit this theory, and so travel further and further along the
wrong road. " Shadowing " suspected persons does not always
answer, and may be carried too far; more, it may be so
clumsily done as to put his quarry on his guard and altogether
defeat the objects in view. But to urge such shortcomings
savours of hypercriticism. It is more just and more generous
to accept with gratitude the overwhelming balance in favour
of the police for the results achieved.
Mysteries of Police and Crime
part $.
POLICE-PAST AISTD PRESENT.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY POLICE.
Origin of Police — Definitions — First Police in France — Charles V. — Louis
XIV. — The Lieutenant-General of Police — His Functions and Powers — The
first, La Reynie — ^His Measures against Crime and Disorders— As a Censor of
the Press — His Steps to check Gambling and Cheating at Games of Chance
— La Eeynie's Successors : the D'Argensous, Herault, D'Omhreval,
Berryer — The Famous de Sartines, his Buses and Detections — Two
Instances of his Omniscience — Lenoir and Espionage — De Crosne, the last
and most feeble J/ieutenant-General of Police — The Story of the Book-
seller Blaizot — Police under the Directory and Empire — Fouchfi — His
Beginnings and First Chances — A horn Police Officer— Has nearly Carte
Blanche from Napoleon, but is at last Discredited and Dismissed — General
Savary succeeds— His Character — How he organises his Service of Spies —
His humiliating Failure in the nearly successful Conspiracy of General
Malet — At the Bourbon Restoration Fouche returns to Power as Head of
the Police, but soon Dies — Some Views of his Character.
WHEN men began to congregate in communities laws
for the good government and protection of the whole
number became a necessity, and this led to the creation of
poHce. The word itseK is derived from TroXt? (the " city "), a
collection of people within a certain area : a public body
working regularly together for mutual advantage and defence.
The latter was internal as well as external, for since the world
began there have been dissidents and outlaws, those who
declined to accept the standard of conduct deemed generally
binding, and so set law at defiance. Hence the organisation of
some force, taking its mandate from the many to compel good
conduct in the few ; some special institution whose functions
were to watch over the common weal, and act for the public
40 EARLY POLICE.
both in preventing evil and preparing or securing good.
From this the pohce deduces its claim to universal inter-
ference; its right to control every action of the citizen. In
its best sense this position is defensible, although by exces-
sive development it may become too paternal. In its
worst, as seen in the great despotisms, it is a potent engine
for the enslavement of a people.
These ideas, perfect enough in the abstract, are contained in
the definitions of police as found in dictionaries and the best
authorities. Our Imperial Dictionary calls it " a judicial and
executive system in a national jurisprudence which is specially
concerned with the quiet and good order of society ; the means
instituted by a government or community to maintain public
order, liberty, property, and individual security." Littre de-
fines police as : " The ordered system established in any city or
state which controls all that affects the comfort and safety of
the inhabitants." "Police," says a modern writer, "is that
section of public authority charged to protect persons and
things against every attack, every evil which can be pre-
vented or lessened by human prudence." Again: "To
maintain public order, protect property and personal
Uberty, to watch over public manners and the public
health; such are the principal functions of the pohce."
Although we English people were slow to adopt any police
system on a large or uniform scale, the principle has ever been
accepted by our legists. Jeremy Bentham considered police
necessary as a method of precaution to prevent crimes and
calamities as well as to correct and cure them. Blackstone in
his Commentaries says : ''By public police and economy I
mean the due regulation and domestic order of the kingdom,
whereby the individuals of the State, like members of a well-
governed family, are bound to conform their general behaviour
to the rules of propriety, good neighbourhood, and good
manners; to be decent, industrious, and inoffensive in their
respective stations."
The French kings were probably the first, in modern
times, to establish a police system. As early as the
fourteenth century Charles V., who was ready to administer
DEFINITION OF "POLICE." 41
justice anywhere, in the open field or under the first tree,
invented police "to increase the happiness and security of
his people." It was a fatal gift, soon to be developed into
an engine of horrible oppression. It came to be the
symbol of despotism, the plain outward evidence of the
king's supreme will, the bars and fetters that checked and
restrained all liberty, depriving the people of the commonest
rights and privileges, forbidding them to work, eat, dress,
hve or move from place to place without leave. Louis
XIV., on his accession, systematised and enormously in-
creased the functions and powers of the police, and with an
excellent object, that of giving security to a city in which
crime, disorder, and dirt flourished unchecked. But in obtain-
ing good government all freedom and independence were
crushed out of the people.
The lieutenant of police called into existence in 1667, and
presently advanced to the higher rank of lieutenant-general,
was an all-powerful functionary, who ruled Paris despotically
henceforward to the great break-up at the Revolution. He
had summary jurisdiction over beggars, vagabonds, and evil-
doers of all kinds and classes ; he was in return responsible
for the security and general good order of the city. Crimes,
• great and small, were very prevalent, such as repeated acts of
fraud and embezzlement ; for Fouquet had but just been con-
victed of the malversation of pubHc monies on a gigantic scale.
There were traitors even in the highest ranks, and the Chevalier
de Rohan about this period was detected in a plot to sell
several strong places on the Normandy coast to the enemy.
Very soon the civilised world was to be shocked beyond
measure by the wholesale poisonings of the Marchioness of
Brinvilliers, Voisin, and other miscreants. In the verj' heart
of Paris there was a deep gangrene, a sort of criminal Alsatia
— the Cour des Miracles — where depredators and desperadoes
gathered unchecked, and defied authority. The streets were
made hideous by incessant bloodthirsty brawls ; quarrels were
fought then and there, for everyone, with or without leave,
carried swords — even servants and retainers of the great
noblemen — and were prompt to use them. The lieutenant-
42 EARLY POLICE.
general of police was nearly absolute in regard to offences
political and general. In his office were kept long lists of
suspected persons and known evil-doers, with full details
of their marks and appearance, nationality and character.
He could deal at once with all persons taken in the act;
if penalties beyond his power were required, he passed them
on to the superior courts. The prisoners of State in the
royal castles — the Bastille, Vincennes, and the rest — were
in his charge ; he interrogated them at will, and might add to
their number by arresting dangerous or suspected persons,
in pursuit of whom he could enter and search private houses
or take any steps however arbitrary. For all these purposes
he had a large armed force at his disposal, cavalry and
infantry, nearly a thousand men in all, and besides there
was the city watch, the chevaliers de guet or " archers,"
who were seventy-one in number.
The first lieutenant-general of police in Paris was Gabriel
Nicholas (who assumed the name of La Reynie from his estate),
a young lawyer who had been the protege of the Governor of
Burgundy, and afterwards was taken up by Colbert. La
Reynie is described by his contemporaries as a man of great
force of character, grave and silent and self-reliant, who
wielded his new authority with great judgment and deter-
mination, and soon won the entire confidence of the auto-
cratic king. He lost no time in putting matters right. To
clear out the Cour des Miracles and expel all rogues was one
of his first measures ; his second was to enforce the regulation
forbidding servants to go armed. Exemplary punishment
overtook two footmen of a great house who had beaten
and wounded a student upon the Pont Neuf. They were
apprehended, convicted, and hanged, in spite of the strong
protests of their masters. La Reynie went further and
revived the ancient regulation by which servants could not
come and go as they pleased, and none could be engaged who
did not possess papers en rdgle. The servants did not submit
kindly, and for some time evaded the new rule by carrying
huge sticks or canes, of which also they were eventually
deprived.
LA BEYNIE. 43
The lieutenant-general of police was the censor of the
press, which was more free-spoken than was pleasing to a
despotic government, and often published matter that was
deemed libellous. The French were not yet entirely cowed,
and sometimes dared to cry out against unjust judges and
thieving financiers ; there were fierce factions in the Church ;
Jesuit and Jansenist carried on a bitter polemical war ; the
Protestants, unceasingly persecuted, made open complaint
which brought down on some of their exemplary clergy
the penalty of the galleys. The police had complete authority
over printers and publishers, and could deal sharply with
all books, ' pamphlets, or papers containing libellous state-
ments or improper opinions. The most stringent steps
were taken to prevent the distribution of prohibited
books. Philosophical works were most disliked. Books
when seized were dealt with as criminals and were at
once Consigned to the Bastille. Twenty copies were set
aside by the governor, other twelve or fifteen were at the
disposal of the higher officials, the rest were handed over
to the paper-makers to be torn up and sold as waste paper
or destroyed by fire in the presence of the keeper of archives.
Many of the books preserved in the Bastille and found at the
Revolution were proved to be insignificant and inoffensive,
and condemned on the vague charge of being libellous either
on the queen and royal family or on the ministers of State.
An edition of one work had come from London and was en-
titled " Malle cachetic de Lord North," another was called the
" PortefeuiUe d'un Talon Rouge," and was a lampoon upon the
whole Court. Prohibited books were not imprisoned until they
had been been tried and condemned; their sentence was
written on a ticket affixed to the sack containing them.
Condemned engravings were scratched and defaced in the
presence of the keeper of archives and the staff of the
BastiUe ; and so wholesale was the destruction of books that
one paper-maker alone carried off 3,015 pounds' weight
of fragments. Seizures were often accompanied by the
arrest of printers and publishers, and an order to destroy
the press and distribute the bookseller's whole stock.
44 EARLY FOLIOB.
Although La Reynie used every effort to check improper
publications, he was known as the patron and supporter of
legitimate printing. Under his auspices several notable
editions issued from the press, and their printers received
handsome pensions from the State. He was a collector, a
bibliophile who gathered together many original texts; and
he wiU always deserve credit for having caused the chief
manuscripts of the great dramatist Moliere to be carefully
preserved.
Society was very corrupt in those days, honeycombed
with vices, especially gambling, which claimed the constant
attention of a paternal police. La Reynie was most active
in his pursuit of gamblers. The rapid fortunes made by
dishonest means led to much reckless living and especially
to an extraordinary development of play. Everyone
gambled, everywhere, in and out of doors, even in their
carriages while travelling to and fro. Louis XIV., as he
got on in life, and more youthful pleasures palled, played
tremendously. His courtiers naturally followed the example.
It was not all fair play either ; the temptation of winning
largely attracted numbers of "Greeks" to the gaming tables,
and cheating of all kinds was very common. The king
gave frequent and positive orders to check it. A special
functionary who had jurisdiction in the Court, the grand
provost, was instructed to find some means of prevent-
ing this constant cheating at play. At the same time
La Reynie sent Colbert a statement of the various kinds
of fraud practised with cards, dice, or hoca, a game
played with thirty points and thirty balls. The police
lieutenant made various suggestions for checking these
malpractices ; the card-makers were to be subjected to
stringent surveillance ; it was useless to control the makers of
dice, but they were instructed to denounce all who ordered
loaded dice. As to hoca, it was far the most difficult, he
said, and dangerous. The Italians, who had originated the
game, so despaired of checking cheating in it that they had
forbidden it in their own country. La Reynie's anxiety was
such that he begged the minister to prohibit its introduction
CHEATING AT PLAY. 45
at the Court, as the fashion would soon be followed in the city.
However, this application failed ; the Court would not
sacrifice its amusements, and was soon devoted to hoca,
with lansquenet, postique, trou-madame, and other games of
hazard. The extent to which gambling was carried wiU
be seen in the amounts lost and won ; it was easy, in
lansquenet or hoca, to win fifty or sixty times in a
quarter of an hour. Madame de Montespan, the king's
favourite, frequently lost a hundred thousand crowns. One
Christmas-day she lost seven hundred thousand crowns. On
another occasion she laid a hundred and fifty thousand
pistoles (£300,000) upon three cards, and won. Another
night, it is said, she won back five millions which she had
lost. Monsieur, the king's brother, also gambled wildly.
When campaigning he lost a hundred thousand francs to
other officers ; once he was obliged to pledge the whole of
his jewels to liquidate his debts of honour.
Nevertheless the games of chance, if permitted at Court,
were prohibited elsewhere. The police continually harried the
keepers of gambling hells ; those who offended were forced to
shut up their establishments and expelled from Paris. The
king was disgusted at times, and reproved his courtiers. He
took one M. de Ventadour sharply to task for starting hoca
in his house, and warned him that " this kind of thing must
be entirely ended." The exact opposite was the result : that
and other games gained steadily in popularity, and the
number of players increased and multiplied. The king pro-
mised La Reynie to put gambling down with a strong hand,
and called for a list of all hells and who kept them. But
the simple measure of beginning with the Court was not
tried. Had play been suppressed among the highest it
would soon have gone out of fashion ; as it was, it flourished
unchecked till the collapse of the ancien regime.
It would be tedious to trace the succession of lieutenants-
general between La Reynie and Crosne, the last, who was in
office at the outbreak of the French Revolution. One or two
were remarkable in their way : the elder D'Argenson, who
was universally detested and feared ; who cleared out the low
46 EARLY POLICE.
haunts with such ruthless severity that he was known to the
thieves and criminals as Rhadamanthus, or the judge of the
infernal regions ; his son, D'Argenson, the younger, who is held
responsible for the law of passports which made it death
to go abroad without one ; of Herault, who persecuted
the freemasons, and was so noted for his bigotry and in-
tolerance, the following story is told. In one of his walks
abroad he took offence at the sign at a shop door which
represented a priest bargaining about goods at a counter, with
this title, " L'Abbe Coquet." Returning home, he despatched
an emissary to fetch him the Abbe Coquet, but gave no
explanation. The agent went out and picked up a priest of
the name and brought him to Herault's house. They told him
the Abb6 Coquet was below. " Mettez-le dans le grenier '' was
H6rault's brief order. Next day the abb6, half-starved, grew
furious at his detention, and Herault's servants reported that
they could do nothing with him. " Eh ! Brulez-le et laissez-
moi tranquille," replied the chief of pohce, whereupon an
explanation followed, and the Abbe Coquet was released.
D'Ombreval, again, was a man of intolerant views.
He especially distinguished himself by his persistent per-
secution of the mad fanatics called the convulsionnaires,*
whom he ran down everywhere, pursuing them into the
most private places, respecting neither age nor sex, and
casting them wholesale into prison. Two of these victims
were found in the Conciergerie in 1775 who had been im-
prisoned for thirty-eight years. The convulsionnaires suc-
cessfully defied the police in the matter of a periodical print
which they published secretly and distributed in the very
teeth of authority. This rare instance of baffled detection is
worth recording. The police was powerless to suppress the
Nouvelles Ecclesiastiques, as the paper was called. A whole
* These convulsionnaires were a sect of tlio Jansenists who met at the tomb of
" Francis of Paris," where thoy preached and prophesied the downfall of the
Church and the French monarchy. Their ceremonies were wild and extravagant ;
they contorted their todies violently, rolled on the ground, imitating birds, beasts
and fishes, until these convulsions (hence their name) ended in a swoon and
collapse. The law was very severe against these fanatics, who, however sur-
vived the most vigorous measures.
BE SABTINES. 47
army of active and unscrupulous spies could not discover who
wrote it or where it was printed. Sometimes it appeared in
the town, sometimes in the country. It was printed, now
in the suburbs, now among the piles of wood in the Gros
Caillou, now upon barges in the River Seine, now in private
houses. A thousand ingenious devices were practised to
put it mto circulation and get it through the barriers. One of
the cleverest was by utilising a poodle dog which carried a
false skin over its shaved body ; between the two the sheets
were carefully concealed and travelled safely into the city.
So bold were the authors of this print that on one occasion
when the poUce lieutenant was searching a house for a
printing press several copies of the paper still wet from the
press were thrown into his carriage.
Berryer, a later lieutenant-general, owed his appointment
to Madame de Pompadour, whose creature he was, and his
whole aim was to learn all that was said of her and against
her, and then avenge attack by summary arrests. At her
instance he sent in a daily statement of all the scandalous
gossip current in the city, and he lent his willing aid to the
creation of the infamous Cabinet Noir, in which the sanctity
of all correspondence was violated and every letter read as it
passed through the post. A staff of clerks was always busy ;
they took impressions of the seals with quicksilver, melted
the wax over steam, extracted the sheets, read them, and
copied all parts that were thought likely to interest the
king and Madame de Pompadour. The treacherous practice
was well known in Paris, and so warmly condemned that
it is recorded in contemporary memoirs : " Dr. Quesnay
furiously declared he would sooner dine with the hangman
than with the Intendant of Posts " who countenanced such
a base proceeding.
Perhaps the most famous and most successful police
minister of his time was M. de Sartines, whose detective
triumphs were mainly due to his extensive system and
the activity of his nearly ubiquitous agents. He first
gained reputation, however, by a cunning ruse. Soon after
his appointment a terrible ''crime was committed in the
48 EARLY POLICE.
neighbourhood of the Jardin des Plantes, when five
people were murdered. When de Sartines arrived he ascer-
tained that five lar^e boxes full of booty had been removed
from the house where the five bodies still lay on the
ground. He also obtained particulars which put him on
the track of the murderers, who were quickly arrested and
sent to gaoL Yet the whole story was a fabrication. The
bodies had been secretly taken to the scene of the crime
in the big boxes which had been used to carry off the
plunder. It is not recorded where de Sartines obtained the
bodies, and no one believed the explanation, although the
accused were released without trial ; so difficult is it to
catch up any story, however false, if it gets the start, and
de Sartines was still credited with extraordinary astuteness.
No doubt he had great ability, although a man of
indiiferent education; a Spaniard by birth, he had come
to Paris to make his way. He greatly improved the
method of the police and largely increased the number
of his agents, with all of whom he was in close, constant
touch, and they apparently served him well.
Two good stories are preserved of de Sartines' omniscience.
One of them runs that a great officer of State wrote him
from Vienna begging that a noted Austrian robber who had
taken refuge in Paris might be arrested and handed over.
De Sartines immediately replied that it was quite a mistake,
the man wanted was not in Paris, but actually in Vienna;
he gave his exact address, the hours at which he went in
and out of his house, and the disguises he usually assumed.
The information was absolutely correct and led to the
robber's arrest.
Again, one of his friends, the president of the High
Court at Lyons, ventured to deride his processes, declaring
that they were of no avail and that anyone, if so disposed,
could elude the police. He oifered a wager, which de Sartines
accepted, thathe could come into Paris and conceal himself
there for several days without the knowledge of the police.
A month later this judge left Lyons secretly, travelled to
Paris day and night, and on arrival took up his quarters in a
DE SABTINES. 49
remote part of the city. By noon that day he received a
letter, delivered at his address, from de Sartines, who in-
vited him to dinner and claimed payment of the wager.
A great coup was made by this adroit officer, but the
interest of the aifair attaches rather to the thieves than
to the poUce. It was on the occasion of the marriage of
Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette in 1770. During the
great fStes in honour of the event an extraordinary tumult
arose in the Rue Royals, where it joins the modern Champs
Elysees. A gang of desperadoes had cunningly stretched
cords across the street under cover of the darkness, and the
crowds moving out to the fetes fell over them in hundreds.
The confusion soon grew general and a frightful catastrophe
ensued. Men, women, and children, horses and carriages,
were mixed up in an inextricable tangle, and hundreds
were tranipled to death. Some desperate men tried to
hack out a passage with their swords, children were passed
from hand to hand over the heads of the crowd, too often
to fall and be swallowed up in the struggling gulf below. No
fewer than 2,470 people are said to have perished in this hor-
rible melee. It was, of course, a time of harvest for the thieves.
Apparently only one of the confraternity suffered from the
crush, and on him fifty watches were found and as many
chains, gold and silver. Next day de Sartines and his agents
made wholesale arrests. Some three or four hundred noted
thieves were taken up and sent to the Conciergerie, where
they were strictly searched. Large quantities of valuables
were secured — :watches, bracelets, rings, collars, purses, all
kinds of jewels. One robber alone had two thousand francs
tied up in his handkerchief.
Yet de Sartines did not always arrest the known
criminals. He kept a few on hand for the strange purpose
of amusing fashionable society. It became his custom to
have thieves to perform in drawing-rooms. De Sartines,
when asked, would obligingly send to any great mansion
a party of adroit pickpockets, who went through all their
tricks before a distinguished audience, cutting watch chains,
stealing purses, snuff-boxes, and jewellery.
50 EARLY POLICE.
This famous chief of police was the first to use espion-
age on a large scale, and to employ detectives who were
old criminals. When reproached with this questionable
practice, de Sartines defended it by asking, "Where should
I find honest folk who would agree to do such work ? " It
was necessary for him to protect these unworthy agents by
official safe-conducts which were worded as follows : —
"In the King's Name.
"His Majesty having private reasons for allowing
to conduct his affairs without interruption, accords him
safe conduct for six months, and takes him under especial
protection for that period. His Majesty orders that he
shall be exempt from arrests and executions during that
time ; all officers and sergeants are forbidden to take action
against him, gaolers shall not receive him for debt, under
pain of dismissal. If notwithstanding this he should be
arrested he must be at once set free, provided always that
the safe-conduct does not save him from condemnations
pronounced in the King's favour."
Lenoir, who succeeded de Sartines, carried espionage
still farther, and employed a vast army of spies, paid and
unpaid : servants only got their places on the condition
that they kept the police informed of all that went on in
the houses where they served. The hawkers who paraded the
streets were in his pay ; he had suborned members in the many
existing associations of thieves, and they enjoyed tolerance
so long as they denounced their accomplices. 'The gambling-
houses were taken under police protection, with the proviso
that they paid over a percentage of profits and reported all
that occurred. People of good society who had got into trouble
were forgiven on condition that they watched their friends
and gave information of anything worth knowing. One
fashionable agent was a lady who entertained large parties
and came secretly by a private staircase to the police office
with her budget of news. This woman was only paid
at the rate of £80 a year.
Thiroux de Crosne was the last lieutenant-general of
ESPIONAGE. 51
police, and the revolutionary upheaval was no doubt assisted
by his ineptitude, his marked want of tact or powers of
observation. While the city was mined under his feet
with the coming volcanic disturbance? he gave all his
energies to theatrical censorship and kept his agents busy
reporting how often this or that phrase was applauded. He
was ready to imprison anyone who dared offend a great
nobleman, and was very severe upon critics and pamphleteers.
The absurd misuse of the censorship was no doubt one of
the contributing causes of the Kevolution. The police
were so anxious to save the king, Louis XVI., from the
pollution of reading the many libels pubKshed that they
allowed no printed matter to come near him. In this way
he was prevented from gauging the tendency of the times,
or the trend of public opinion. At last, wishing to learn
the exact truth of the vague rumours that reached him, he
ordered a bookseller, Blaizot, to send him everything that
appeared. He soon surprised his ministers by the know-
ledge he displayed and set them to finding how it reached
him. Blaizot was discovered and sent to the Bastille.
When the king, wondering why he got no more pamphlets,
inquired, he learnt that Blaizot had been imprisoned by
his order.
The monarchical police was quickly swept away by the
French Revolution. It was condemned as an instrument of
tyranny ; having only existed, according to the high-sounding
phrases of the period, to " sow distrust, encourage perfidy, and
substitute intrigue for public spirit." The open official police
thus disappeared, but it was replaced by another far more
noxious ; a vast political engine, recklessly handled by every
bloodthirsty wretch who wielded power in those disastrous
times. The French republicans, from the Committee of Public
Safety to the last revolutionary club, were all policemen— spying,
denouncing, feeding the guillotine. Robespierre had his own
private police, and after his fall numerous reports were found
among his papers showing how close and active was the
surveillance he maintained through his spies, and this did not
mean in Paris alone, but extended all over France.
52 EABLT POLICE.
Under the Directory the office of a police minister was
revived, not without stormy protest, and the newly organised
police soon became a power in the republic as tyrannical and
inquisitorial as that of Venice. It had its work cut out for it.
Paris, the whole country, was in a state of anarchy, morals at
their lowest point, corruption and crime everywhere rampant.
The streets of the city, every high road, were infested with
bands of robbers with such wide ramifications that a general
guerilla warfare terrorised the provinces. We shall see more
of this on a later page,* when describing the terrible bandits
named Chauffeurs, from their practice of torturing people by
toasting their feet before the fire until they confessed the
hidden receptacles of their treasure.
Nine police ministers quickly followed each other
between 1796 and 1799, men of no particular note; but
at last Barras fixed upon Fouche as a person he ima-
gined to be well qualified for the important post. He
thus gave a first opening to one whose name is almost
synonymous with policeman — the strong, adroit, secret, un-
scrupulous manipulator of the tremendous underground
forces he created and controlled, who for many years prac-
tically divided with Napoleon the empire of France. The
emperor had the ostensible supremacy, but his many
absences on foreign wars left much of the real power
in his minister's hands. Fouche's aptitudes for police
work must have been instinctive, for he had no special
training or experience when summoned to the post of police
minister. He had begun life as a professor, and was known
as le Fere Fouche, a member of the Oratory, although he
did not actually take religious orders. Born in the seaport
town of Nantes, he was at first designed for his father's calling
— the sea — but at school his favourite study was theology
and polemics, so that his masters strongly advised he should
be made a priest. Something of the suppleness, the quiet,
passionless self-restraint, the patient, observant craftiness of
the ecclesiastic remained to him through life.
The Revolution found him in his native town, prefect of
* See post, vol. ii., part viii.
FOUGHt'8 FALL. 53
his college of Nantes, married, leading an obscure and blame-
less life. He soon threw himself into the seething current, and
was sent to the National Convention as representative for La
Nievre. It is needless to follow his political career, in which,
with that readiness to change his coat which was second
nature to him, he espoused many parties in turn, and long
failed to please any, least of all Eobespierre, who called him " a
vile, despicable impostor." But the Directory was friendly to
him, and appointed him its minister, first at Milan, then in
Holland, whence he was recalled by Earras, whom he had
obliged in various matters, to take the ministry of police. He
had always been in touch with popular movements, knew men
and things intimately, and it was hoped would check the
more turbulent spirits.
Fouche saw his chance when Bonaparte rose above the
horizon. He was no real republican ; all his instincts were
towards despotism and arbitrary personal government. It
may well be believed that he contributed much to the success
of the 18th Brumaire ; this bom conspirator could best hancile
all the secret threads that were needed to estabHsh the new
power. He has said in his memoirs that the revolution of Saint-
Cloud must have failed but for him, and he was willing enough
to support it. '' I should have been an idiot not to prefer a
future to nothing. My ideas were fixed. I deemed Bonaparte
alone fitted to carry out the changes rendered imperatively
necessary by our manners, our vices, our errors and excesses,
our misfortunes and unhappy diiferences." When the Con-
sulate was first established, Fouche was one of the most
important personages in France. He had means at his
disposal, and he did not hesitate to use them freely to
strengthen his position ; he bought assistance right and left,
had his paid creatures everywhere, even at Bonaparte's elbow,
it was said, and had bribed Josephine and Bourienne to
betray the inmost secrets of the palace. The strength and
extent of his system — created by necessity, perfected by sheer
love of intrigue — was soon realised by his master, who saw
that Fouche united the poHce and all its functions in his own
person, and might easily prove a menace to his new power.
54 EARLY POLICE.
So Fouche was suppressed, but only for a couple of years,
during which other nearer dangers, conspiracies, threatening
the very life of Napoleon, led the emperor to recall the astute,
all-powerful minister, who throughout had maintained a private
poHce of his own. Fouche had his faithful agents abroad,
and showed himself better served, better informed, than the
emperor himself He proved this by giving Napoleon an
early copy of a circular by the exiled Bourbon king about
to be issued in Paris, the existence of which was unknown
to the official police. When Fouch^ returned to the Pre-
fecture, it was to stay. For some eight years he was indis-
pensable. The emperor seemed to rely upon him entirely, passed
everything on to him. "Send it to Fouch6 ; it is his business,"
was the endorsement on innumerable papers of that time. The
provincial prefets looked only to Fouche ; the police minister
was the sole repository of power, the one person to please ;
his orders were sought and accepted with blind submission by
all. He might have remained in office to the end of the
imperial regirne but that he became too active and interfering
in matters quite beyond his province, and his downfall was
hastened through a daring intrigue to bring about a secret
compact with England and secure peace.
Fouche's successor was General Savary, one of Napoleon's
most devoted and uncompromising adherents, an indifferent
soldier and a conceited, self-sufficient man. He will always be
stigmatised as the executioner of the Due d'Enghien, one
ready to go any lengths in blind obedience to his master's
behests. His appointment as chief of the police caused uni-
versal consternation; it was dreaded as the inauguration
of an epoch of brutal military discipline, the advent of the
soldier-policeman, the iron hand of the soldier-emperor, which
would be heavy upon all. Wholesale arrests, imprisonments,
and exiles were anticipated. Savary himself, although sub-
missively accepting his new and strange duties, shrank from
executing them. He would gladly have declined the honour
of becoming police minister, but the emperor would not
release him, and, taking him by the hand, tried to stiffen his
courage by much counsel. The advice he freely gave is
8AVABY. 55
worth recording in part, as expressing the views of a monarch
who was himself the best poHce officer of his time.
" Ill-use no one," he told Savary as they strolled together
through the park of Saint-Cloud. " You are supposed to be a
severe man, and it would give a handle to my enemies if you are
found harsh and reactionary. Dismiss none of your present
employes ; if any displease you, keep tliem at least six months,
and then find them other situations. If you have to adopt
stern measures, be sure they are justified, and it wiU at least
be admitted that you are doing your duty. ... Do not imi-
tate your predecessor, who allowed me to be blamed for
sharp measures and took to himself the credit of any acts
of leniency. A good police officer is quite without passion.
Allow yourself to hate no one ; listen to all, and never
commit yourself to an opinion until you have thought it well
over. ... I removed Monsieur Fouche because I could no
longer rely upon him. When I no longer gave him orders, he
acted on his own account and left'me to bear the responsi-
bility. He was always trjdng to find out what I meant to do,
so as to forestall me, and, as I became more and more reserved,
he accepted as true what others told him, and so got further
and further astray."
Savary, on assuming the reins of office, found himself in a
serious dilemma. He could hardly have anticipated that
Fouch^ would make his task easy for him, but the result was
even worse than that. He had been weak enough to allow
Fouche three weeks to clear out of the ministry, and his wily
predecessor had made the best use of his time to burn and
destroy every paper of consequence that he possessed. When
he finally handed over his charge, he produced one meagre
document alone — an abusive memorandum, two years old, in-
veighing against the exiled House of Bourbon. Every other
paper had disappeared. He was no less malicious with regard to
the secret staff of the office. The only persons he presented
to the new chief were a few low-class spies whom he had
never largely trusted ; and although Savary raised some of
them to higher functions he was still deprived of the assist-
ance of the superior agents upon whom Fouche had so
56 EABLY POLICE.
greatly relied. Savary solved this difficulty cleverly ; he found
in his office a registry of addresses for the use of the
messengers who delivered letters. This registry was kept by
his clerks, and, not wishing to let them into his design, he took
the registry one night into his private study and copied out
the whole list himself. He found many names he little
expected ; names which, as he has said, he would have
expected sooner to find in China than in this catalogue.
Many addresses had, however, no indication but a single
initial, and he guessed — no doubt rightly — that these were
probabty of the most important agents of all.
Having thus gained the addresses, Savary proceeded to
summon each person to his presence by a letter written in the
third person, and transmitted by his office messengers. He
never mentioned the hour of the interview, but was careful
never to send for two people on the same day. His secret
agents came as requested, generally towards evening, and
before they were ushered in Savary took the precaution to
inquire from his groom of the chambers whether they came
often to see Monsieur Fouche. The servant had almost in-
variably seen them before, and could give many interesting
particulars about them. Thus Savary knew how to receive
them ; to be warm or cold in his welcome as he heard how
they had been treated by his predecessor. He dealt in much
the same way with the persons known only under an initial.
He wrote also to them at their addresses, and sent the letters
by confidential clerks who were known personally to the
concierges of the houses where the agents resided. The
Parisian concierge was as much an inquisitive busybody in
those days as now ; curious about his lodgers' correspondence,
and knowing exactly to whom he should deliver a letter with
the initial address. It required only a little adroitness to put
a name to these hitherto unknown people when they called in
person at his office. It sometimes happened that more than
one person having the same initial resided in the same house.
If the concierge made the mistake of handing two letters to
one individual, Savary, when he called, explained that his
clerks had inadvertently written to him twice. In every case
MALET'S GONSPIBACY. 57
the letter of summons contained a request that the letter
might be brought to the office as a passport to introduction.
Savary adopted another method of making the acquaintance
of the secret personnel. He ordered his cashier to inform
him whenever a secret agent called for his salary. At first,
being suspicious of the new regime, very few persons came,
but the second and third month self-interest prevailed;
people turned up, merely to inquire, as they said, and were
invariably passed on to see the chief. Savary took the visit
as a matter of course, discussing business, and often increasing
voluntarily their rates of payment. By this means he not only
, re-established his connection, but greatly extended it.
Savary's sj'stem of espionage was even more searching and
comprehensive than Fouch6's, and before long earned him the
sobriquet of the S^de Mouchard (the " Sheik of Spies "). He
had a whole army at his disposal — the gossips and gobe-
mouches of the clubs, the cabmen and street porters, the
workmen in the suburbs. When fashionable Paris migrated
to their country houses for the summer and early autumn,
Savary followed them with his spies, whom he found among
their servants, letter-carriers, even their guests. He reversed
the process, and actually employed masters to spy on their
servants, obliging every householder to transmit a report to
the police of every change in their establishments, and of the
conduct of the persons employed. He essayed also to make
valets spy on those they served, so that a man became less
than ever a hero to his valet.
It followed, naturally, that Savary was the most hated of
all the tyrants who wielded the power of the police prefecture.
He spared no one ; he bullied the priests ; he increased the
rigours of the wretched prisoners of war at Bitche and Verdun ;
and exercised such an irritating, vexatious, ill-natured surveil-
lance over the whole town, over every class — political, social, and
criminal — that he was soon universally hated. He was a stupid
man, eaten up with vanity and self-importance ; extremely
jealous of his authority, and ever on the look out to vindicate
it if he thought it assailed. Never perhaps did more inflated,
unjustifiable pride precede a more humiliating fall. Savary's
58 EARLY POLICE.
pretensions as a police officer were utterly shipwrecked by the
conspiracy of General Malet, a half-madman, who succeeded
in shaking Napoleon's throne to its very foundations, and
making his military police minister supremely ridiculous.
This General Malet was a born conspirator. He had done
little as a soldier, but had been concerned in several plots
against Napoleon, for the last of which he had been cast into
the prison of La Force. During his seclusion he worked out
the details of a new conspiracy, based upon the most daring
and yet simplest design. He meant to take advantage of the
emperor's absence from Paris, and, announcing his death,
declare a Provisional Government, backed by the troops, of
which he would boldly take command. It all fell out as he
had planned, and, but for one trifling accident, the plot would
have been entirely successful. Paris at the moment he rose
was weakly governed. Cambarcferes represented the em-
peror ; Savary held the police, but, in spite of his espionage,
knew nothing of Malet, and little of the real state of Paris
below the surface ; Pasquier, prefect of police, was an admir-
able administrator, but not a man of action. The garrison of
Paris was composed mainly of raw levies, for all the best
troops were away with Napoleon in Russia, and the comman-
dant of the place, General HuUin, was a sturdy soldier — no
more : a mere child outside the profession of arms.
Malet had influence with Fouche, through which, before
that minister's disgrace, he had obtained his transfer from La
Force to a ''- Maison de Sant6 " in the Faubourg St. Antoine.
In this half asylum, half place of detention, the inmates were
suffered to come and go on parole, to associate freely with
One another, and receive any visitors they pleased from out-
side. In this convenient retreat, which sheltered other irre-
concilable spirits, Malet soon matured his plot. His chief
confederate — the only one, indeed, he fully trusted — was a
certain Abbe Lafone, a man of great audacity and determina-
tion, who had already been mixed up with Royalist plots
against the empire. The two kept their own counsel, alive to
the danger of treacherj^ and betrayal in taking others into
their full confidence, but Malet could command the services of
POLICE OF THE BESTOBATION. 59
two generals, Guidal and Laborie, with whom he had been
intimate at La Force, but who never knew the whole aim and
extent of the conspiracy.
About 8 p.m. Malet and the Abb6 left the Faubourg
St. Antoine, and Malet, now in full uniform, appeared at the
gates of the neighbouring barracks, where he announced the
news, received by special courier, of the Emperor's death,
produced a resolution from the Senate proclaiming a Pro-
visional Government, and investing him with the supreme
command of the troops. Under his orders, officers were
despatched with strong detachments to occupy the principal
parts of the city, the barriers, Quais, the Prefecture, the Place
Royal, and other open squares. Another party was sent to
the prison of La Force to extract Generals Laborie and Guidal,
the first of whom, when he joined Malet, was despatched to
the Prefecture and thence to the Ministry of Police, to seize
both the prifet and Savary and carry them off to gaol. Guidal
was to support Laborie. Malet himself with another body of
troops proceeded to the Place Vend6me, the military head-
quarters of Paris, and proposed to make the Commandant
Hullin his prisoner.
The arrest of the heads of the police was accomplished
without the slightest difficulty about 8 a.m. on the 24th
October, and they were transported under escort to La Force.
(Savary ever afterwards was nicknamed the Due de la Force.)
Malet meanwhile had roused out General Hullin, to whom he
presented his false credentials. As the general passed into an
adjoining room to examine them, Malet fired a pistol at him
and dropped him. Then the Adjutant-General Dorcet inter-
posed, and, seizing his papers, instantly detected the forgery.
Malet was on the point of shooting him also, when a staff-
officer rushed up from behind, and, backed by a handful of his
guard, easily overpowered Malet. From that moment the
attempt collapsed. The police minister and the prefet were
released from prison ; the conspirators were arrested. Yet for
some half-dozen hours Malet had been master of Paris.
Napoleon was furiously angry with everyone, and loaded
the police in particular with abuse. He did not, however,
60 EARLY POLICE.
remove Savary from his office, for he knew he could still trust
him, and this was no time to lose the services of a devoted
friend. The insecurity of his whole position had been clearly
manifested. One man, a prisoner, had, by his own inven-
tive audacity, succeeded in suborning or imposing upon
superior officers and securing the assistance of large bodies of
troops, in forcing prison doors, arresting ministers and high
officials, and securing the reins of power. No one had stood
against him ; the powers wielded by authority were null and
void ; chance alone, a mer,e accident, had spoilt the enterprise.
At the restoration of the Bourbons the police organisation
was revised, but stiU left in much the same hands — ex-
Napoleonists, such as Beugnot and Bourrienne, who were
director-general and prefect respectively. The latter dis-
tinguished himself by a fruitless attempt to arrest his old
enemy Fouche, who was living quietly in Paris, holding aloof
from affairs as he had done through the closing days of the
empire. Fouche escaped from the police officers by climbing
over his garden wall, and then went into hiding. He was thus
thrown back into the ranks of the Imperialists, and, on the
return from Elba, was at once nominated to his old office of
chief of police, where he made himself extremely useful to
Napoleon. But he played a double part as usual ; had friends
in both camps, and, after giving the emperor much valuable
information as to the movements of the Allies before Water-
loo, went over to the victors after the battle. Fouche was
extraordinarily busy in shaping events at the final downfall of
Napoleon, and he was one of the first to approach Wellington
with suggestions as to the emperor's disposal. He seems to
have gained the duke's goodwill, and, as the person who could
be best trusted to maintain public order, Wellington urged
Louis XVIII. to appoint him afresh to the head of the police.
Fouche had many friends in the Faubourg St. Germain, and
the knack of seeming to be indispensable. It was accepted as
a bitter blow by the king that Fouche should be forced on
him. When the order of appointment was placed before him
for signature, he glanced at it, let it lie upon the table, the pen
slipped from his hand; he long sat buried in sad thought
FOUGEiJ-S ENB. 61
before he could rouse himself to open relations with the man
who had been hitherto an implacable foe to his family.
Fouche gained his point ; but where all knew, aU watched,
and none trusted him, he needed all his sang froid, all his tact,
to hold his position. But in his long career of conspiracy
and change he had learnt the lesson of dissimulation and self-
restraint. Yet he was still the focus and centre of intrigue, to
whom everyone flocked — his old associates, once his friends
and now his hardly concealed enemies ; the men, who had been
his enemies and were now on the surface his friends. His ante-
chamber showed the most mixed assemblage. " He went
among them, from one to the other, speaking with the same
ease as though he had the same thing to say to all. How
often have I seen him creeping away from the window where
he had been talking apart with some old comrade — Thibau-
deau, for example, the ancient revolutionist — on the most
friendly, confidential terms, to join us, a party of royalists,
about an affair concerning the king. A little later Fouche
inserted Thibaudeau's name in the list of the proscribed." *
Fouche has been very differently judged by his contempo-
raries. Some thought him an acute and penetrating observer,
with a profound insight into character ; knowing his epoch, the
men and matters appertaining to it, intimately and by heart.
Others, like Bourrienne, despised and condemned him. " I
know no man, says the latter, " who has passed through such
an eventful period, who has taken part in so many convul-
sions, who so barely escaped disgrace and was yet loaded with
honours." The keynote of his character, thought Bourrienne,
was great levity and inconstancy of mind. Yet he carried out
his schemes, planned with mathematical exactitude, with the
utmost precision. He had an insinuating manner ; could seem
to speak freely when he was only drawing others on. A
retentive memory and a great grasp of facts enabled him to
hold his own Avith many masters, and turn most things to his
his own advantage. He did not long survive the Restoration,
and died at Trieste in 1820, leaving behind him a very
considerable fortune.
* Pasquier, Memoires, iii. p. 311.
CHAPTER II.
P'OLICE IN ENGLAND.
Early Police in England — Edward I.'s Act— EEzabett's for 'Weatminster —
George II. and III. — State of London, 1777 — Depredations universal—
Eobteries on the River Thames — Keoeivers — Coiners — Low Standard of
Morality— Gambling and Lottery Offices — Henry Fielding grapples with
Crime — Sir John Fielding also — The Horse Patrol — Bow Street and its
Eunnera : Townaend, Vickery, and Others — Blood Money — Tyhurn Tickets
— Negotiations with Thievea to recover stolen Property, and Doubts of
Honesty of Police — Sayer, George Euthveu — Sergeant Ballantine on the
Bow Street Eunners compared with modern Detectives.
If a century or more ago France and other Continental coun-
tries were generally over-policed, England, as a free country,
long refused to surrender its liberties. Until quite recent
years there was no organised provision for public safety, for
the maintenance of good order, the prevention of crime, or
the pursuit of law-breakers. Good citizens co-operated in
self-defence ; the office of constable was incumbent upon all,
but evaded by many on payment of substitutes. One of the
earliest efforts to establish a systematic police was the statute
13 Edward I. (1285), made for the maintenance of peace in
the city of London. This ancient statute was known as that
of Watch and Ward, and it recognised the above principle that
the inhabitants of every district must combine for their own
protection. It recites how " many evils, as murders, robberies,
and manslaughters have been committed by night and by
day, and people have been beaten and evilly entreated " ; it
is enjoined that "none be so hardy as to be found going or
wandering about the streets of the city with sword or buckler
after curfew tolled at St. Martin's Le Grand." It goes on
to say that any such should be taken by the keepers of the
peace and be put in the place of confinement appointed for
such offenders, to be dealt with as the custom is, and punished
if the offence is proved. This Act further prescribed that as
such persons sought shelter " in taverns more than elsewhere,
EARLY ENGLISH POLICE. 63
lying in wait and watching their time to do mischief," no
tavern might be allowed to remain open "for sale of ale or
wine " after the tolling of curfew. Many smaller matters were
dealt with so as to ensure the peace of the city. It was
enacted that, " forasmuch as fools who delight in mischief do
learn to fence with buckler," no school to teach the art of
fencing was allowed within the city. Again, many pains and
penalties were imposed on foreigners who sought shelter and
refuge in England " by reason of banishment out of their own
country, or who, for great offence, have fled therefrom." Such
persons were forbidden to become innkeepers " unless they
have good report from the parts whence they cometh, or find
safe pledges." That these persons were a source of trouble is
pretty plain from the language of the Act, which tells how
" some nothing do but run up and down through the streets
more by night than by day, and are well attired in clothing
and array, and have their food of delicate meats and costly ;
neither do they use any craft or merchandise, nor have they
lands and tenements whereof to live, nor any friend to find
them ; and through such persons many perils do often happen
in the city, and many evils, and some of them are found
openly offending, as in robberies, breaking of houses by night,
murders, and other evil deeds."
Another police Act, as it may be called, was that of 27
Elizabeth (1585) for the good government of the city and
borough of Westminster, which had been recently enlarged.
" The people thereof being greatly increased, and being for the
most part without trade or industry, and many of them wholly
given to vice and idleness," and a power to correct them not
being sufiicient in law, the Dean of Westminster and the High
Steward were given greater authority. They were entitled to
examine and punish " all matters of incontinences, common
scolds, and common annoyances, and to commit to prison all
who offended against the peace." Certain ordinances were
made by this Act for regulating the domestic Hfe of the city
of Westminster; the bakers and the brewers, the colliers,
wood-mongers, and bargemen were put under strict rule ; no
person was suffered to forestall or " regrate " the markets so
64 FOLIOS IN ENGLAND.
as to increase the price of victuals by buying them up before-
hand ; the cooks and the tavern-keepers were kept separate,
no man might sell ale and keep a cookshop at the same
time ; the lighting of the city was imposed upon the victual-
lers and tavern-keepers, who were ordered to keep one con-
venient lanthorn at their street doors from six p.m. until nine
a.m. next morning, " except when the moon shall shine and
give light." Kogues and sturdy beggars were forbidden to
wander in the streets under pain of immediate arrest. Many
other strict regulations for the health and sanitation of the
burgesses, such as the scavenging and cleansing of the streets,
the punishment of butchers, poulterers, and fishmongers who
might sell unwholesome food, the strict segregation of persons
infected with the plague. It is interesting to note that Sir
William Cecil, the great Lord Burleigh, was the first High
Steward of Westminster, and that the excellent regulations
above quoted were introduced by him.
These Acts remained in force for many centuries, although
the powers entrusted to the High Steward fell into great
disuse. But in the 10 George II. (1737) the Elizabethan
Act was re-enacted and its powers enlarged. This was an Act
for the well-ordering and regulating a night watch in the
city — " a matter of very great importance for the preservation
of the persons and properties of the inhabitants, and very
necessary to prevent fires, murders, burglaries, robberies, and
other outrages and disorders." It had been found that all
such precautions were utterly neglected, and now the
Common Council of the city was authorised to create a
night watch and levy rates to pay it. The instructions for
this night watch were issued through the constables of
wards and precincts, the old constitutional authority, who
were expected to see them observed. But the night-watch-
men could act in the absence of the constable when keeping
watch and ward, and were enjoined to apprehend all night-
walkers, malefactors, rogues, vagabonds, and disorderly persons
whom they found disturbing the public peace, or suspected
of evil designs.
Forty years later another Act was passed, 14 George III.
THE WATCHMEN OF OLD. 65
(1777), which again enlarged and, in a measure, superseded
the last-mentioned Act. It is much more detailed, pre-
scribing the actual number of watchmen, their wages, how
they are to be " armed and accommodated," which meant that
they were to carry rattles and staves and lanterns ; it
details minutely the watchman's duty : how he is to proclaim
the time of the night or morning " loudly and as audibly as
he can " ; he is to see that all doors are safe and well secured ;
he is to prevent "to the utmost of his power all murders,
burglaries, robberies, and affraies ; he is to apprehend all
loose, idle, and disorderly persons, and deliver them to the
constable or headborough of the night at the watch-
houses." It may be stated at once that this Act, however
excellent in intention and carefully designed, greatly failed
in execution. The watchmen often proved unworthy of their
trust, and it is recorded by that eminent police magistrate,
Mr. Colquhoun, " that no small portion of those very men
who are paid for protecting the public are not only in-
struments of oppression in many instances, by extorting
money most unwarrantably, but are frequently accessories
in aiding and abetting or conceaUng the commission of
crimes which it is their duty to detect and suppress." It
is but fair to add that Sir John Fielding, who was examined
in 1772 as to the numerous burglaries committed in the
metropolis, stated that the watch was insufficient, " that their
duty was too hard and their pay too small."
Beyond question the state of the metropolis, and, indeed,
of the country at large, was deplorable at the latter end of
the last century. Robbery and theft from houses and on the
highway had been reduced to a regular system. Oppor-
tunities were sought, intelligence obtained, plans prepared
with the utmost skUl and patience. Houses to be forced
were previously reconnoitred, and watched for days and
weeks in advance. The modern burglar could have taught
the old depredator little that he did not know. Again, the
gentleman of the road — the bold highwayman — used infinite
pains in seeking out his prey. He had his spies in every
quarter, among all classes, and the earliest certain intelligence
66 POLICE IN ENGLAND.
of travellers worth stopping when carrying money and
other valuables ; he could count upon the cordial support of
publicans and ostlers, who helped him in his attack and
covered his retreat. The footpads who infested the streets
were quite as daring; it was unsafe to cross open spaces,
even in the heart of the town, after dark. These lesser
thieves, so adroit in picking pockets by day, used actual
violence by night. The country was continually ravaged by
other depredators : horse and cattle stealers, thieves who laid
hands upon every kind of agricultural produce. The farmers'
fields were constantly plundered of their crops, fruit and
vegetables were carried off, even the ears of wheat were cut
from their stalks in the open day. It was estimated that
one and a half million bushels were annually stolen in
this way. The thieves boldly took their plunder to the
millers to be ground, and the millers, although aware that
fields and barns had been recently robbed, did not dare
object, lest their mills should be burnt over their heads.
At this time the plunder of merchandise and naval stores
in the river Thames had reached gigantic proportions. Pre-
vious to the establishment of the Thames river police in
1798 the commerce of the country, all the operations of
merchants and shipowners, were grievously injured by these
wholesale depredations, which amounted at a moderate com-
putation to quite half a million per annum. There were, first
of all, the river-pirates, who boarded unprotecited ships in the
stream. One gang of them actually weighed a ship's anchor,
hoisted it into their boat with a complete new cable, and
rowed away with their spoil. These villains hung about
vessels newly arrived and cut away anything within reach —
cordage, spars, bags of cargo. They generally went armed, and
were prepared to fight for what they seized. There were the
" heavy horsemen and the light horsemen," the " game water-
men," the " game lightermen," the " mud-larks and the scufile-
hunters," each of them following a particular line of their
own. Some of these, with the connivance of watchmen or
without, would cut lighters adrift and lead them to remote
places where they could be pillaged and their contents carried
RIVER THIEVES. 67
away. Cargoes of coal, Kussian tallow, hemp, and ashes were
often secured in this way. The " light horseman " did a large
business in the spillings, drainings and sweepings of sugar,
cargoes of coifee or rum, all of which were greatly increased by
fraudulent devices and carried off with the connivance of the
mates, who shared- in the profit. The " heavy horsemen " were
smuggled on board to steal whatever they could find — coffee,
cocoa, pimento, ginger, and so forth, which they carried on
shore concealed about their persons in pouches and pockets
under their clothes. The " game watermen " worked by
quickly receiving what was handed to them when cargoes were
being discharged, which they conveyed at once to some secret
place ; the " game lightermen " were of the same class, who
used their lighters to conceal stolen parcels of goods which
they could afterwards dispose of. A clever trick is told of one
of these thieves, who long did a large business in purloining
oil. A merchant who imported great quantities was aston-
ished at the constant deficiency in the amounts landed, far
more than could be explained by ordinary leakage. He deter-
mined to attend at the wharf when the lighters arrived, and
saw that in one of them all the casks had been stowed with
their bungs downwards. He waited until the lighter was
unloaded, and then visiting her, found the hold full of oil.
This the lightermen impudently claimed as their perquisite ;
but the merchant refused to entertain the idea, and, having
sent for casks, filled nine of them with the leakage. Still
dissatisfied, he ordered the deck to be taken up, and found
between the timbers of the Hghter enough to fill five casks
more. No doubt this robbery had been long practised. The
" mudlarks " were only small fry who hung about the stern
quarters of ships at low- water to receive and carry on shore
any pickings they might secure. The " scuffle-hunters ''
resorted in large numbers to the wharves where goods were
discharged, and laid hands upon any plunder they could find,
chiefly the contents of broken packets, for which they fought
and scuffled.
Before leaving this branch of depredation mention must
be made of the plunder levied on His Majesty's dockyards.
68 POLICE IN ENGLAND.
the Naval Victualling and Ordnance Stores, which were
perpetually pillaged ; thefts not from the dockyards only, but
from warships, transports, and lighters in the Thames,
Medway, Solent, and Dart. Over and above the peculations
of employes, the frauds and embezzlements in surveys,
certificates, and accounts, there was nearly wholesale pillage
in such articles as cordage, canvas, hinges, bolts, nails, timber,
paint, pitch, casks, beef, pork, biscuit, and all kinds of stores.
No definite figures are at hand giving the amount of these
robberies, but they must have reached an enormous total.
These extensive robberies were, no doubt, greatly facili-
tated by the many means that existed for the disposal of
the stolen goods. Never did the nefarious trade of the
" receiver " flourish so widely. This, the most mischievous class
of criminal, without whom the thief would find his calling
hazardous and unproductive, was extraordinarily numerous
at this period. There were several thousands in the metro-
polis alone, a few of them no more than careless, asking no
questions about the goods brought them for purchase, but
the bulk of them distinctly criminal, who bought goods
well knowing them to be stolen. Many had been thieves
themselves, but had found "receiving" a less hazardous and
more profitable trade ; they followed ostensibly some re-
putable calling — kept coal-sheds, potato warehouses, and
chandler's shops — some were pubhcans, others dealt in
second-hand furniture, old clothes, old iron, rags, or were
workers and the refiners of gold and silver. These were the
rank and file, the retailers, so to speak, who passed on what
was brought them to the wholesale "receivers," of whom
at that time there were some fifty or sixty, opulent
people many of them, commanding plenty of capital. These
high-class operators had their crucibles and their furnaces
always ready for melting down plate; they had extensive
connections beyond sea for the disposal of valuables, especially
of jewels, which were taken from their settings to prevent
recognition.
These great " fences " — the cant name for " receivers " —
worked as large and lucrative a business as do any of their
"FUNGUS" OB "REGEIVBBS." 69
successors to-day. A wide connection was the first essential.
Often enough the thieves arranged with the " receivers " before
they entered upon any new job, and thus the latter kept
touch with the operators, who gladly parted with their
plunder at easy prices, being unable to dispose of it
alone. It was a first principle with the "receiver'' that the
goods he purchased could not be recognised, and until all
marks and means of identification were removed he would
not admit them into his house. He would not even discuss
terms until the thieves had taken this precaution. Various
methods were employed. In linen and cloth goods the
head and fag-ends were cut off, and occasionally the list
and selvedge, if they were peculiar. The marks on the soles
of boots and shoes were obliterated by hot irons, and the
linings, if necessary, removed. Gold watches were sent off to
agents in large towns or on the Continent, their outward
appearance having first been changed; the works of one
were placed in the case of another. Where the proceeds
of the robbery were bank-notes, or property whose identity
could not be destroyed, they were sent off to a distance to
foreign marts, and all traces of them lost. It was essential
that the " receiver " on a large scale should have an army of
agents and co-partners — persons following the same nefarious
traific, who could be trusted, for their own sakes, to be
cautious and secret in their proceedings.
The general crime of this period was enormously in-
creased by the extensive fabrication of false money. Coining
was extraordinarily prevalent, and a wide, far-reaching system
had been created for distributing and uttering the counter-
feits, not only at home but on the Continent. All England,
all Europe, was literally deluged with false money, the largest
proportion of which was manufactured in this country. Not
only was the current coinage of the realm admirably counter-
feited— guineas, half-guineas, crowns, half-crowns, shiUings,
sixpences, and coppers, but the coiners could turn out all
kinds of foreign money — louis d'ors, Spanish dollars, sequins,
pagodas, and the rest, so cleverly imitated as almost to defy
detection. So prosperous was the business that as many
70 POLICE IN ENGLAND.
as forty or fifty private mints were constantly at work in
London and various country towns fabricating false
money; as many as 120 workpeople were engaged, and the
names of some 650 known coiners were registered at the
Royal Mint. There was a steady demand for it; it went
off so fast that the manufacturers had seldom any stock on
hand. As soon as it was finished it was sent off, here,
there, and everywhere, by every kind of conveyance. Not
a coach nor a carrier left London without a parcel of false
money consigned to country agents. It was known that one
agent alone had placed five hundred pounds' worth with
country buyers in a single week. Some idea of the profits
may be gathered from the fact that Indian pagodas, worth
8s., could be manufactured for l^d. apiece; and that the
middleman who bought them at 5s. a dozen retailed them
at from 2s. 3d. to 5s. each. The counterfeiting of gold coins
was the least common, owing to the expense of the process
and the necessary admixture of at least a portion of the
precious metal. It was different with silver. It was stated
that two persons alone could manufacture between two and
three hundred pounds' worth (nominal value) of spurious
silver in six days. There were five kinds of base silver,
known in the trade as flats, plated goods, plain goods, and
castings and "pig things." The first were cut out of flat-
tened plates of a material part silver, part copper ; the second
were of copper only, silvered over ; the third were of copper,
turned out of a lathe and polished ; the fourth were of
white metal, cast in a mould ; the "pig things " were the refuse
of the rest converted into sixpences. Copper coins were also
manufactured largely out of base metal.
Frauds on the currency were not limited to counterfeiting
the coinage. Bank-notes were systematically forged, although
the penalty was death. This crime had been greatly stimu-
lated by the suspension of specie payments and the issue of
paper money. The Bahk of England had been thus saved at
a great financial crisis, when its reserve in cash and bullion
had shrunk to little more than a milUon, and it had issued
notes for values of less than five pounds. Note forgery at
GOINEBS AND NOTE-FORGEBS. 71
once increased to a serious extent, and as the Bank was im-
placable, insisting on rigorous prosecution, great numbers of
capital convictions followed; the most minute and elaborate
provisions existed, prescribing the heaviest penalties not only
on actual manufacture and uttering, but on the mere pos-
session of bank-note paper, plates, or engraving tools. The
infliction of the extreme sentence did not check the crime.
Detection, too, was most difficult. The public could not dis-
tinguish between true and false notes. Bank officials were
sometimes deceived, and clerks at the counter were known to
accept bad paper, yet refuse payment of what was genuine.
Some account will be given on a later page of Charles Price,
commonly called " Old Patch," from his favourite disguise of
a patch on one eye. He was a most extraordinarily successful
forger of bank-notes, who did all but their negotiation himself ;
made his paper with the correct water-mark, engraved his
plates, and prepared his own ink. He had several homes, many
aliases, used many disguises, and employed an army of agents
and assistants, some of them his reputed wives (for he was a
noted bigamist), to put off the notes.
No doubt the general level of morality was low, and it
was kept down by the vicious habits of the people. Gambling
of all kinds had increased enormously. There were gaming-
houses and lottery offices everywhere. Faro banks and E. 0.
tables, and places where hazard, roulette, and rouge-et-noir
could be played, had multiplied exceedingly. Six gaming-
houses were kept in one street near the Haymarket mostly
by prize-fighters, and persons stood at the doors inviting
passers-by to enter and play. Besides these, there were sub-
scription clubs of presumably a higher class, and even ladies'
gaming-houses. The pubHc lotteries were also a fruitful
source of crime, not only in the stimulus they gave to
speculation, but in their direct encouragement of fraud. A
special class of swindlers was created — the lottery insurers,
the sharpers who pretended to help the lottery players
against loss by insuring the amount of their stakes. Offices
for fraudulent lottery insurance existed all over the town.
It was estimated that there were four hundred of them,
72 POLICE IN ENGLAND.
supporting 2,000 agents and clerks, and 7,500 " morocco men,"
as they were called — the canvassers who went from door
to door solicitmg insurances, which they entered in a book
covered with red morocco leather. It was said that these
unlicensed offices obtained premiums of nearly two milHons
of money when the England and Irish lotteries were being
drawn, on which they made a profit of from 15 to 25 per
cent. It was proved by calculating the chances that there
was some 33 per cent, in favour of the insurers. Even in
those days the principle of profiting by the gambling spirit
of the pubHc was strongly condemned, but lotteries survived
until 1826, since when the law has been severe with any
specious attempts to reintroduce them under other names.
An early and commendable attempt had been made in
the middle of the eighteenth century to grapple with this
all-prevailing, all-consuming crime. When Henry Fielding,
the immortal novelist, was appointed a Middlesex magistrate
towards the close of his somewhat vicious and tempestuous
career, he strove hard to check disorders, waging unceasing
warfare against evil-doers and introducing a well -planned
system of prevention and pursuit. Although in failing health,
he laboured incessantly. He often sat on the bench for sixteen
hours out of the twenty-four, returning to Bow Street after a
long day's work to resume it from seven p.m. till midnight.
He did a great pubhc service in devising and executing a
plan for the extirpation of robbers, although the benefit was
but temporary. This was in 1753, when the whole town
seemed at the mercy of the depredators. The Duke of
Newcastle, at that time Secretary of State, sent for Fielding,
who unfolded a scheme whereby, if £600 were placed at his
disposal, he engaged to effect a cure. After the first advance
of the Treasury he was able to report that " the whole gang
of cut-throats was entirely dispersed, seven of them were in
actual custody, and the rest driven, some out of the town,
the rest out of the kingdom." He had nearly killed himself
in the effort. " Though my health was reduced to the last
extremity ... I had the satisfaction of finding . . .
that the hellish society was almost entirely extirpated " ; that
THU TWO FIELDING8. 73
instead of " reading about murders and street robberies in the
newspapers every morning," they had altogether ceased. His
plan had not cost the Government more than £300, and " had
actually suppressed the evil for a time."
It was only for a brief space, however ; and his brother,
blind Sir John Fielding, who succeeded him at Bow Street,
frankly confessed that new gangs had sprung up in place
of those recently dispersed. But he bravely set himself to
combat the evil and adopted his brother's methods. He first
grappled with the street robbers, and in less than three
months had brought nine of them to the gallows. Next he
dealt with the highwaymen infesting the road near London
"so that scarce one escaped." The housebreakers, lead-stealers,
shoplifters, and all the small fry of pickpockets and petty
larcenists, were increasingly harried and in a large measure sup-
pressed. He organised a scheme for protecting the suburbs,
by which the residents subscribed to meet the expense of
transmitting immediate news to Bow Street by mounted
messengers, with full particulars of articles stolen, and the
description of the robber ; the same messenger was to give
information at the turnpikes and public-houses en route, and
thus a hue and cry could be raised and the offender would
probably be soon captured. At the same time a notice would
be inserted in the Public Advertiser warning tavern-keepers,
stable-keepers, and pawnbrokers, the first against harbouring
rogues, the second against hiring out horses to the persons
described, the third against purchasing goods which were
the proceeds of a robbery.
Sir John Fielding (he was knighted in 1760) was a most
active and energetic magistrate, and he was such a constant
terror to evil-doers that his hfe was often threatened. There
were few crimes reported in which he did not take a personal
interest, promptly visiting the spot, taking information, and
setting his officers on the track When Lord Harrington's
house was robbed of some three thousand pounds' worth
of jewellery, Sir John repaired thither at once, remained
in the house aU day and the greater part of the night.
It was the same in cases of highway robbery, murder,
74 POLICE IN ENGLAND.
or riot. Everyone caught red-handed was taken before
him, and his court was much frequented by great
people to hear the examination of persons charged with
serious crimes — such as Dr. Dodd, Hackman, who murdered
Miss Reay, the brother-forgers the Perreaus, Sarah Meteyard,
who killed her parish apprentice by abominable cruelty.
One well-known nobleman, " a great patron of the arts,"
given also to visiting Newgate in disguise in order to stare
at the convicts under sentence of death, would constantly
take his seat on the bench.
Sir John Fielding's appearance in court and manner ot
conducting business have been graphically described by the
Rev. Dr. Summerville, of Jedburgh. He speaks in his diary
of Sir John's "singular adroitness. He had a bandage over his
eyes, and held a little switch or rod in his hand, waving it
before him as he descended from the bench. The sagacity
he discovered in the questions he put to the witnesses, and
the marked and successful attention, as I conceived, not only
to the words but to the accents and tones of the speaker
supplied the advantage which is usually rendered by the
eye ; and his arrangement of the questions, leading to the
detection of concealed facts, impressed me with the highest
respect for his singular ability as a police magistrate."
Sir John Fielding was undoubtedly the originator of the
horse patrol, which was found a most useful check on high-
way robbery. But it was not permanently established by
him, and we find him beseeching the Secretary of State to
continue it for a short time longer •' as a temporary but
necessary step in order to complete that which was being so
happily begun." He was satisfied from "the amazing good
effects produced by this patrol that outrages would in future
be put down by a little further assistance of the kind." This
patrol was, however, reintroduced by the chief magistrate of
Bow Street about 1805, either by Sir Richard Ford or Sir
Nathaniel Conant. It was a very efficient force, recruited
entirely from old cavalry soldiers, who were dressed in
uniform, well armed, and well mounted. They wore a blue
coat with brass buttons, a scarlet waistcoat, blue trousers and
BOW STREET RUNNERS. lb
boots, and they carried sword and pistols. Their duties were
to patrol the neighbourhood of London in a circuit of from
five to ten miles out, beginning at five or seven p.m. and
ending at midnight. It was their custom to call aloud to all
horsemen and carriages they met, "Bow Street patrol ! " They
arrested all known offenders whom they might find, and
promptly followed up the perpetrators of any robbery that
came under their notice. Yery marked and satisfactory
results were obtained by this excellent institution ; it almost
completely ended highway robbery, and if any rare case
occurred, the guilty parties were soon apprehended.
Bow Street may be called the centre of our police estab-
lishment at that time ; it was served by various forces, and
especially by eight officers, the famous Bow Street runners of
that period, the prototype of the modem detective, whose
doings are continually to be met with in the chronicles of the
time. They were familiarly known as the " robin redbreasts "
from the scarlet waistcoat which was practically their badge
of office, although they also carried as a mark of authority
a smaU baton surmounted with a gilt crown. The other
police-offices of London were also assisted by officers, but
these were simply constables, and do not appear to have been
employed beyond their own districts. The Bow Street runner,
however, was at the disposal of the public if they could be
spared to undertake the pursuit of private crime. Three of
them were especially appropriated to the service of the Court.
The attempt made by Margaret Nicholson upon George III.,
and other attempted outrages by mad people, called for
special police protection, and two or more of these officers
attended the royalties wherever they went. They were
generally MacManus, Townsend, and Sayer, Townsend being
the most celebrated of the three. He has left a self-painted
picture in contemporary records, and his evidence, given
before various police committees, shows him to have been a
garrulous, self-sufficient functionary. It was his custom to
foist his opinions freely on everyone, even the king himself
He boasted that George IV. imitated the cut of his hat, that
the Dukes of Clarence and of York presented him with wine
76 POLICE IN ENGLAND
from their cellars ; lie mixed himself up with politics, and did
not hesitate to advise the statesmen of the day on such points
as Catholic Emancipation or the Reformed ParUament. It
generally fell to his office to interrupt duels, and, according to
his own account, he stopped that between the Duke of York
and Colonel Lennox. His importance, according to his own
idea, was shown in his indignant refusal to apprehend a
baker who had challenged a clerk; he protested that "it
would lessen him a good deal " after forty-six years' service,
during which period he had had the honour of taking earls,
marquises, and dukes.
No doubt these runners were often usefully employed in
the pursuit of criminals. Townsend himself when at a levee
arrested the man who had boldly cut off the Star of the
Garter from a nobleman's breast. The theft having been
quickly discovered, word was passed to look out for the
thief It reached Townsend, who shortly afterwards noticed
a person in Court dress who yet did not seem entitled to
be there. Fearing to make a mistake, he followed him a
few yards, and then remembered his face as that of an old
thief When taken into custody, the stolen star was found
in the man's pocket. Vickery was another well-known
runner, who did much good work in his time. One of his
best performances was in saving the post-office from a serious
robbery. The officials would not believe in the existence of
the plot, but Vickery knew better, and produced the very
keys that were to pass the thieves through every door. He
had learnt as a fact that they had twice visited the premises,
but still postponed the coup, waiting until an especially large
amount of plunder was collected. Another case in which
Vickery exhibited much acumen was in the clever robbery
effected from EundeU and Bridges, the gold jewellers on
Ludgate HiU. Two Jews, having selected valuables to the
amount of £35,000, asked to be permitted to seal them
up and leave them until they returned with the money.
In the act of packing they managed to substitute other
exactly similar parcels, and carried off the jewels in their
pockets. As they did not return, the cases were opened and
BLpOD-MONEY. 77
the fraud discovered. Vickery was called in, and soon traced
the thieves to the Continent, whither he followed them,
accompanied by one of the firm, and tracked them through
France and Holland to Frankfort, where quite half of the
stolen property was recovered.
Yickery subsequently became jailer at Cold Bath Fields
Prison. One of the prisoners committed to his custody was
Fauntleroy, the banker ; and a story has been handed down
that this great forger all but escaped from custody. A clever
plot had been set on foot, but timely information reached the
authorities. On making a full search, a ladder of ropes and
other aids to breaking out of prison were laid bare. No blame
seems to have attached to Vickery in this, although some
of his colleagues and contemporaries were not always above
suspicion. They were no doubt subject to great temptations
under the system of the time. It was the custom to reward
all who contributed to the conviction of offenders. Thip
blood-money, as it was called, was a sum of £40, distributed
amongst those who had secured the conviction. No doubt
the practice stimulated the police, but it was capable of
great perversion ; it gave the prosecutor a keen interest in
securing conviction, and was proved, at times, to have led
parties to seduce others in committing crime. It is estab-
lished beyond question that at the commencement of this
century persons were brought up charged with offences into
which they had been seduced by the very officials who
arrested them.
It must be admitted that the emoluments of the police
officers were not extraordinarily high; a guinea a week
appears to have been the regular pay, to which may be
added the share of blood-money referred to above, which,
according to witnesses, seldom amounted to more than £20
or £30 a year. Besides this, the officers had the privilege
of selling Tyburn tickets, as they were called, which were
exemptions from serving as constables or in other parish
offices — an onerous duty from which people were called to
buy exemption at the price of £12, £20, or even £25. Again,'
a runner employed by other public departments or by private
78 POLICE IN ENGLAND.
persons might be, but was not always, handsomely rewarded
if successful. They had, of course, their out-of-pocket ex-
penses and a guinea a day while actually at work ; but this
might not last for more than a week or a fortnight, and,
according to old Townsend, people were apt to be mean
in recognising the services of the runners. These officers
were also the intermediaries at times between the thieves
and their victims, and constantly helped in the negotiations
for restoring stolen property; it could not be surprising
that sometimes the money stuck to their fingers. The loss
incurred by bankers, not only through the interception • of
their parcels, but by actual breakings into their banks, led
to a practice which was no less than compounding of felony :
the promise not to prosecute on the restitution of a portion
of the stolen property. It was shown that the " Committee of
Bankers," a society formed for mutual protection, employed
a solicitor, who kept up communication with the principal
" fences " and " family men." This useful employe was well
acquainted with the thieves and their haunts, and when
a banker's parcel — known in cant language as a " child " —
was stolen, the solicitor entered into treaty with the thieves
to buy back the money.
In this fashion a regular channel of communication came
to be established, offers were made on both sides, and
terms were negotiated which ended generally in substan-
tial restitution. Many bankers objected to the practice,
and refused to sanction it. Still it prevailed, and largely;
and several specific cases were reported by the Select Com-
mittee on the Police in 1828. Thus, two banks that had
each been robbed of notes to the amount of £4,000, re-
covered them on payment of £1,000. In another case,
Spanish bonds, nominally worth £2,000, were given back on
payment of £1,000. Nearly £20,000 was restored for £1,000.
Where bills had been stolen that were not easily negotiable,
£6,000 out of £17,000 was offered for £300; £3,000 had
been restored for 19 per cent, of the whole. Sometimes
after apprehension proceedings were stopped because a large
amount of the plunder had been given up. The system
BUNNBBS' TEMPTATIONS. 79
must have been pretty general, since the committee stated
that they knew of no less than sixteen banks which had
thus tried to indemnify themselves for their losses, and
they knew that no less than £200,000 had been a subject
of negotiation or compromise within a few years.
A strong suspicion was entertained that Sayer, a Bow Street
runner already mentioned, had feathered his nest finely with a
portion of the proceeds of the Paisley Bank robbery at Glasgow.
He was an acquaintance of the Mackoulls,* and it was he
who proposed to the bank that £20,000 should be restored on
condition that aU proceedings ceased. When Sayer reached
the bank with Mrs. MackouU the notes produced amounted to
no more than £11,941. Whether Sayer had impounded any
or not was never positively known ; but he died at an ad-
vanced age and was then worth £30,000. And it has been said
that shortly before his death he pointed to the fireplace and
a closet above it, using some incoherent words. This was
probably the receptacle of a number of notes, which were
afterwards found in the possession of one of his relatives, notes
that were recognised as part of the Paisley Bank plunder. He
must either have got them as hush-money or have wrongfully
detained them, and then found it too dangerous to pass them
into circulation. Probably he desired to have them destroyed,
so that the story might not come out after his death. The
runners must have found it difficult to resist temptation. The
guilt of one of them — Vaughan — was clearly established in
open court, and he was convicted as an accessory in a
burglary into which he had led others ; he was also proved to
have given an unsuspicious sailor several counterfeit coins to
buy articles with at a chandler's shop. When the sailor came
out, Vaughan arrested him and charged him with passing bad
money. Vaughan absconded, but was afterwards discovered,
arrested, and tried.
Townsend tells a case in his own glorification — and there is
no reason to deny him the credit — where he arrested a notori-
ous old pickpocket, one Mrs. Usher, who had done a very
profitable business for many years. She was said to be worth
* See post, p. 106.
80 POLICE IN ENGLAND.
at least £3,000 at the time of her arrest, and when Townsend
appeared against her he was asked in so many words whether
he would not withdraw from the prosecution. The Surrey
jailer, Ives by name, asked him, " Cannot this be ' stashed ' ? "
Townsend virtuously refused, and still would not yield,
although Mrs. Usher's relations oifered him a bribe of £200.
He also tells how he might have got a considerable sum from
Broughton, who robbed the York mail, but steadfastly refused
to abandon the prosecution. As much as a thousand pounds
had been offered to get rid of a single witness.
These runners were often charged with being on much too
intimate terms with criminals. It was said that they fre-
quented low taverns and flash houses, and that thus thieves'
haunts were encouraged as a sort of preserve in which the
police could, at any time, lay hands on their game. The
officers on their side declared that they could do little or
nothing without these houses ; that, being so few in number, it
would be impossible for them to keep in touch with the great
mass of metropolitan criminality. Vickery spoke out boldly,
and said that the detection of ojffenders was greatly facilitated,
for they knew exactly where to look for the men they wanted.
Townsend repudiated the idea that the officer was con-
taminated by mixing with thieves. The flash houses " can
do the officer no harm if he does not make harm of it."
Unless he went there and acted foolishly or improperly, or got
on too familiar terms with the thieves, he was safe enough.
But the houses were undoubtedly an evil, and the excuse
that they assisted in the apprehension of offenders was no
sufficient justification for them. To this day, however, the
free access to thieves' haunts is one of the most valuable aids
to detection, and the police-officer who does not follow his
prey into their own jungle will seldom make a large bag.
On the whole, it may be said that the old Bow Street
runner was useful in his generation, although he rarety
effected very phenomenal arrests. He was bold, fairly well
informed, and reasonably faithful. Serjeant Ballantine, who
knew some of the latest survivors personally, had a high
opinion of them, and thought their methods generally superior
GEORGE BUTHVEN. 81
to those of the modern detective. We may not go quite that
length — which, after all, is mere assertion — but it seems certain,
as I shall presently show, that they were missed on the estab-
lishment of the "New Pohce," as the existing magnificent
force was long called. They mostly disappeared, taking to
other caUings, or living out their declining years on compara-
tively small pensions. George Kuthven, one of the last, died
in 1844, and a contemporary record speaks of him as follows :
" He was the oldest and most celebrated of the few remaining
Bow Street runners, among whom death has lately made such
ravages, and was considered as the most eflScient poHce officer
that existed during his long career of usefulness. He was for
thirty years attached to the police force, having entered it at
the age of seventeen ; but in 1839 he retired with a pension of
£220 from the British Government, and pensions likewise
from the Russian and Prussian Governments, for his services
in discovering forgeries to an immense extent, connected with
those countries. Since 1839 he has been landlord of the
' One Tun Tavern,' Chandos Street, Covent Garden, and has
visited most frequently the spot of his former associations.
Among his many notorious captures may be reckoned those of
Thistlewood, for the Gato Street conspiracy, in which daring
enterprise Smithers was killed ; the taking of Thurtell, the
murderer of Mr. Weare, and the discovery of bank robberies
and forgeries on Government to an enormous amount. He
was a most eccentric character, and had written a history of
his life, but would on no account allow it to meet the public
eye. During the last three months no less than three of
the old Bow Street officers — namely, Goodson, Salmon, and
Ruthven — have paid the debt of nature."
Serjeant BaUantine, as I have said, pays the Bow Street
runners the high compliment of preferring their methods to
those of our modern detectives. They kept their own counsel
strictly, he thought, withholding all information, and being
especially careful to give the criminal who was "wanted" no
notion of the line of pursuit, of how and where a trap was
to be laid for him, or with what it would be baited. They
never let the public know all they knew, and worked out
82 POLIOE IN ENGLAND.
their detection silently and secretly. The old serjeant was
never friendly to the " New Police," and his criticisms were
probably coloured by this dislike. That it may be often
unwise to blazon forth each and every step taken in the
course of an inquiry is obvious enough, and there are
times when the utmost reticence is indispensable. The
modern detective is surely alive to this ; the complaint is
more often that he is too chary of news than that he is too
garrulous and outspoken.
CHAPTER III.
MODERN POLICE : LONDON, PARIS, AND NEW YORK.
The "New Police" introduced by Peel, and why — Hostility at first bitter, over-
come by proved Value — Brief Account of modem Metropolitan Police, its
Uses and Services — Eiver Police — City Police — Police in Extra-police
Duties — Provincial Police — Modern Police of Paris — Espionage under
Second Empire — Dossiers — Organisation in two grand Divisions, Adminis-
trative and Active — Clerical Work — Sergents de Ville — Vaisseaux — Cabmen-
Lost Property — Plain-clothes PoUce — SAreU — New York Police, Character
and Organisation.
The paramount necessity for a better police organisation
in London much exercised the public mind during the
early decades of this century. At length, in 1830, Sir
Robert Peel introduced a new scheme, the germ of the
present admirable force. In doing so he briefly recapitulated
the shortcomings and defects of the system, or want of
system, that stiU prevailed; he pointed out how many
glaring evils had survived the repeated inquiries and con-
sequent proposals for reform. Parliamentary Committees
had reported year after year from 1770 to 1828, all of them
unanimously of opinion that, in the pubHc interest, to
combat the steady increase of crime a better method of
prevention and protection was peremptorily demanded. Yet
nothing had been done. The agitation had always subsided
as soon as the immediate alarm was forgotten. So this
opulent city, with its teeming population and abounding
wealth, was stiU mainly dependent upon the parochial watch ;
the safe-keeping of both was entrusted to a handful of feeble
old men, an obsolete body without system or authority.
That crime had increased by "leaps and bounds" was
shown by the figures. It was out of aU proportion to the
growth of the people. In 1828 as compared to 1821 there
had been an increase of 41 per cent, in committals, as against
15| per cent, in population, and the ratio was one criminal
84 MODERN POLIGE : LONDON, PARIS, AND NEW YORK.
to every 822 of the population. This was in London alone.
In the provinces the increase was as 26 per cent, of crime
against 11^ per cent, of population.
Unquestionably the cause of all this was the inefficiency
of the existing police. The necessary conditions, unity of
action on the whole and direct responsibility of the parts,
could never be assured under such arrangements. Each
London parish worked independently, and while some made
a fairly good fight, others by their apathy were subjected to
continual depredation. The wealthy and populous district
of Kensington, for instance, some fifteen miles in extent,
depended for its protection upon three constables and
three headboroughs — none of the latter very remarkable
for steadiness and sobriety. It was fairly urged that three
drunken beadles could effect nothing against widespread
burglary and thieving. In the parish of Tottenham, equally
unprotected, there had been nineteen attempts at burglary
in six weeks, and sixteen had been entirely successful In
Spitalfields, at a time not long antecedent to 1829, gangs
of thieves stood at the street corners and openly rifled all
who dared to pass them. In some parishes, suburban and
of recent growth, there was no police whatever, no protection
but the voluntary exertions of individuals and the " honesty
of the thieves" in those parts. Such were Fulham — with
15,000 inhabitants — Chiswick, Ealing, Acton, Edgware,
Barnet, Putney, and Wandsworth. In Deptford, with 20,000,
constantly reinforced by evil-doers driven out of West-
minster through stricter supervision, there was no watch at all.
Then the number of outrages perpetrated so increased that
a subscription was raised to keep two watchmen, who were
yet paid barely enough to support existence, much less insure
vigilance. Even where some efforts were made, the watchmen
were often chosen because they were on the parish rates/
The pay of many of them was no more than twopence per
hour.
The Duke of Wellington, who was the head of the Ad-
ministration when Peel brought forward the measure in 1829,
supported it to the full, and showed from his own experience
WELLINGTON ON GBIME. 85
how largely crime might be prevented by better police
regulations. He mentioned the well-known horse-patrol*
which had done so much to clear the neighbourhood of
London of highwaymen and footpads. His recollection
reached back into the early years of the century, and he
could speak from his own experience of a time when scarcely
a carriage could pass without being robbed, when travellers
had to do battle for their property with the robbers who
attacked them. Yet all this had been stopped summarily
by the mounted patrols which guarded all the approaches
to London, and highway robbery ceased to exist. The same
good results might be expected from the general introduction
of a better preventive system.
It is a curious fact that the Duke incurred much odium
by the establishment of this new police, which came into
force about the time that the struggle for Parliamentary
reform had for the moment eclipsed his popularity. The
scheme of an improved police was denounced as a deter-
mination to enslave, an insidious attempt to dragoon and
tjrrannise over the people. Police spies armed with extra-
ordinary authority were to harass and dog the steps of
peaceable citizens, to enter their houses, making domiciliary
visitations, exercising the right of search on any small pre-
tence or trumped-up story. There were idiots who actually
accused the Duke of a dark design to seize supreme power
and usurp the throne ; it was with this base desire that he
had raised this new "standing army" of drilled and uniformed
policemen, under Government, and independent of local rate-
payers' control The appointment of a military officer. Colonel
Rowan, of the Irish Constabulary, betrayed the intention of
creating a " veritable gendarmerie." The popular aversion to
the whole scheme, fanned into flame by these silly protests,
burst out in abusive epithets applied to the new tyrants.
Such names as "raw lobsters" from their blue coats, "bobbies"
from Sir Robert Peel, and " peelers " with the same derivation,
" crushers " from their heavy-footed interference with the
liberty of the subject, " coppers," because they " copped " or
* See ante, p. 74.
86 MODERN POLICE : LONDON, PARIS, AND NEW YORK-
captured His Majesty's lieges, survive to show contemporary
Yet the admirable regulations framed by Sir Kichard
Mayne, who was soon associated with Colonel Rowan, did
much to reassure the pubhc. They first enunciated the
judicious principle that has ever governed police action in
this country: the axiom that prevention of crime was the
first object of the constable, not the punishment of offenders
after the fact. The protection of person and property and
the maintenance of peace and good order were the great aims
of a police force. A firm but pleasant and conciliatory
demeanour was earnestly recommended to all, and this has
been in truth, with but few exceptions, the watchword of the
police from first to last. "Perfect command of temper," as
laid down by Sir Richard Mayne, was an indispensable
qualification; the police officer should "never sufi'er himself
to be moved in the slightest degree by language or threats."
He is to do his duty in a " quiet and determined manner,"
counting on the support of bystanders if he requires it, but
being careful always to take no serious step without sufficient
force at his back. He was entrusted with certain powers,
not of the arbitrary character alleged, but he was entitled
to arrest persons charged with or suspected of offences ; he
might enter a house in pursuit of an offender, to interfere
in an affray, to search for stolen goods.
They went their way quietly and efficiently, these new
policemen, and, in spite of a few mistakes from over-zeal, soon
conquered public esteem. The opposition died hard ; disHke
was fostered by satirical verse and the exaggerated exposure
of small errors, and in 1833 the police came into collision with
a mob at Coldbath Fields, when there was a serious and
lamentable affray. But already the London vestries were won
over. They had been most hostile to the new system, "as
opposed to the free institutions of this country, which gave
parish authorities the sole control in keeping and securing the
peace." They had denounced the new police as importing
espionage totally repugnant to the habits and feelings of the
British people, and subjecting them to " a disguised military
LONDON POLIOB TO-BAY. 87
force." These protests formed part of a resolution arrived at
by a conference of parishes, which also insisted that those who
paid the cost should have the control. Yet a couple of years
later these same vestries agreed that " the unfavourable im-
pression and jealousy formerly existing against the new police
is rapidly diminishing . . . and that it has fully answered
the purpose for which it was formed. . . ." This con-
clusion was supported by some striking statistics. Crime
appreciably diminished. The annual losses inflicted on the
public by larcenies, burglaries, and highway robberies, which
had been estimated at about a million of money, fell to
£20,000, and at the same time a larger number of convictions
were secured.
It is beyond the Umits of this work to give a detailed
account of the growth and gradual perfecting of the Metro-
politan police, from this first germ into the splendid force
that watches over every section of the great city to-day. The
total strength now, according to the last official returns, is
15,326 of all ranks, so that it has about quintupled since
its first creation in 1829. The population of London at
that date was just one milUon and a half; the area con-
trolled by the new police not half the present size.
Now 6,000,000 souls are included within the London bills
of mortality, and the area supervised by our present
Metropolitan force is 688 square miles of territory, or some
thirty miles across from any point of the circumference
of a circle whose centre is at Charing Cross. How rapidly
and enormously London has grown will be best seen from a
few figures. Between 1849 and 1896, 615,086 new houses
have been built, making 12,279 streets and 104 squares, with
a total length of 2,099 miles. Throughout the whole of this
vast area, which constitutes the greatest human ant-heap the
world has ever known, absolutely alive, too, and ever growing,
the blue-coated guardian of the peace is incessantly on patrol,
the total length of police beats reaching to 830 miles. He is
unceasingly engaged in duties both various and comprehensive
in behalf of his fellow-citizens. By his active and intelligent
watchfulness he checks and prevents the commission of crime,
88 MODERN POLIOE: LONDON, PARIS, AND NEW YORK.
and if his vigilance is unhappily sometimes eluded he is no
less eager to pursue and capture oifenders. He is exposed to
peculiar dangers, in protecting the public, but accepts them
unhesitatingly, risking his life gladly, and facing brutal and
often murderous violence as bravely as any soldier in the
breach. In the Whitechapel division, where roughs abound,
a fifth of the police contingent in that quarter are injured
annually on duty ; 9 per cent, of the whole force goes on the
sick list during the year from the result of savage assaults.
The last published return (1896) of ojfficers injured shows a
total of 3,112 cases, and these include 2,717 assaults when
making arrests, 89 injuries in stopping runaway horses, 158
bites from dogs, 4 bites by horses, and many injured in dis-
orderly crowds or when assisting to extinguish fires. The
regulation of street trafiSc is, everybody knows, admirably
performed by the police, and they ably control all public
carriages. The Lost Property Office is a police institution
that renders much efficient service, and, in 1896, 38,025
articles which had been dropped, forgotten, or mislaid, were
received, and in most cases returned to their owners. They
made up a very heterogeneous collection, and included all
kinds of birds and live stock — ^parrots, canaries, larks, rabbits,
dogs, and cats; there were books, bicycles, weapons, peram-
bulators, mail carts, golf clubs, sewing machines, and musical
instruments. In minor matters the pohce constable is a
universal champion and knight errant. He escorts the
softer sex across the crowded thoroughfare as gallantly as
any squire of dames ; it is a touching sight to watch the lost
child walking trustfully hand in hand with the six-foot giant
to some haven of safety. If in the West End the man in blue
is sometimes on friendly terms with the cook, he is always
alert in the silent watches of the night, trying locks and
giving necessary warning ; in poorer neighbourhoods he is
the friend of the famUy, the referee in disputes, the kindly
alarum clock that rouses out the early labourer. It may truly
be said that London owes a deep debt of gratitude to its police.
No account, however brief and meagre, of the Metropolitan
force would be complete which did not include some reference
GITY POLICE. 89
to the river and dockyard police. I have already described
on a previous page * the systematic depredations that went
on among the Thames shipping in the earlier days. This
called imperatively for reform, and a marine police was estab-
lished to watch our ships and cargoes and guard the wharves
and quays. Regular boat patrols were always on the move
about the river, and the police, who carried arms, had con-
siderable powers. This Thames branch was not immediately
taken over by Peel's new police, but it is now part and parcel
of the Metropolitan force, and a very perfect system obtains.
The river police has its headquarters in the well-known
floating station at Waterloo Bridge, formerly a steamboat pier,
with a cutter at Erith, and it also has the services of several
small steam launches for rapid transit up and down the
river. There is very little crime upon the great waterway,
thanks to the vigilance of the Thames police, who also do
good work in preventing suicides, and they have many
opportunities of calling attention to possible foul play by
their recovery of bodies floating on the stream.
What is true of the Metropolitan force applies equally to
the City police, an irnperium, in iwjperio, one square mile of
absolutely independent territory interpolated in the very heart
and centre of London. The City police was formed when
Peel's was, but the great municipality claimed the right to
manage its own police affairs, declining Government subsidies
as resolutely as it resisted Government control The House
of Commons in 1839 frankly acknowledged that the City was
justified in its pretensions, and that it was certain to maintain
a good and efficient poUce force. That anticipation has been
fully borne out, and the City police is a first-class force, well
organised and most effective, filled with fine men of a high
standard both of intelligence and physique. It has lighter
duties by night, when the City empties like a church after
service, but during the day it has vast cares and responsibih-
ties, the duty of regulating the congested street traffic in the
narrow limits of City thoroughfares being perhaps the most
onerous. Like their comrades beyond the boundary, the
* See ante, pp. 66, 67.
90 MODERN POLIOS: LONDON, PARIS, AND NEW YORK.
City police are largely employed by private individuals ; banks,
exchanges, public ofHces, and so forth, gladly put themselves
under official protection. It should have been mentioned,
when dealing with the Metropolitan police, that 1,762 police
officers of all ranks, from superintendent to private constable,
are regularly engaged in a thousand and one posts outside
pure police duty. Every great department of State is guarded
by them; the Queen's sacred person, the royal princes, royal
palaces, all public buildings, the Houses of Parliament,
museums and collections, parks and public gardens, the Koyal
Mint, the powder factories, the Post Office, are among the
institutions confided to their care. Going further afield, it
is interesting to note that great tradesmen, great jewellers,
great pickle-makers, great drapers, great card-makers, the
co-operative stores, great fruit-growing estates, the public
markets — all these share police services with Coutts' and
Drummond's Banks, Holland House, Hertford House, Roe-
hampton House, and so on. The whole of our dockyards are
under police surveillance ; so are the Albert Hall, Brompton
Cemetery, and the Imperial Institute.
It is impossible to leave this subject without adverting to
the excellent provincial police now invariably established in
the great cities and wide country districts, who, especially as
regards the former, have an organisation and duties almost
identical with those already detailed. The police forces of
Liverpool, Manchester, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Birmingham, and
the rest, yield nothing in demeanour, devotion, and daring to
their colleagues of the metropoUs. In the counties where
great areas often have to be covered, great independence
must be confided to officers of often junior rank, and it is
not abused. These sergeants or inspectors, with their half-
dozen men, are so many links in a long-drawn chain. Much
depends upon them, their energy and endurance. They, too,
have to prevent crime by their constant vigilance on the high
roads and keeping close watch on all suspicious persons. For
the same reason special quahties are needed in the county
chief constable and his deputy ; the task of superintending
their posts at wide distances apart, and controlling the
POLICE OF PARIS. 91
movements of tramps and bad characters through their dis-
trict, calls for the exercise of peculiar qualities, the power
of command, of rapid transfer from place to place, of keen
insight into character, of promptitude and decision — quahties
that are most often found in military officers, who are, in fact,
generally preferred for these appointments.
Some account of the present police arrangements in two
other large capital cities will fitly find place here by way of
contrast and comparison. That of Paris has already been
dealt with in its early beginnings, and under the First
Empire. After the Bourbon Kestoration, and during the
days of the revived monarchy, the least interesting feature of
the French police had the chief prominence. Every effort
was strained to check opposition to the reigning power, and
prosecute political independence. But at that time the
detection of crime was undertaken for the first time as a
distinct branch of pohce business, and it wUl be seen in the
next chapter how Vidocq did great things, although often
by dishonest agents and unworthy means. In the Second
Empire the secret police over-rode everything ; Napoleon III.
had been a conspirator in his time, and he had an army of
private spies in addition to the police of the Chateau under
Count d'Hirvoix, who watched the regular pohce at a cost of
some fourteen milhons of francs. At the fall of the Second
Empire there were half a dozen different secret police
services in Paris. There was the Emperor's, already men-
tioned ; the Empress had hers ; M. Rouher, the Prime
Minister, and M. Pietri, the Prefect, each had a private
force, so had M. Nusse and M. Lafarge. Most of these agents
were unknown to each other as such, and so extensive was
the system of espionage that one-half of Paris was at that
time said to be employed in watching the other. This
system produced the dossiers, the small portfolio or cover,
one of which appertained to each individual, high and low,
innocent or criminal, and was carefully preserved in the
archives of the Prefecture. There were thousands and
thousands of these, carefuUy catalogued and filed for easy
reference, made up of confidential and calumniating reports
92 MODERN POLIOE : LONDON, PABI8, AND NEW YORK
sent in by agents, sometimes serious charges, often the
merest and most mendacious tittle-tattle. The most harm-
less individuals were often denounced as conspirators, and an
agent, if he knew nothing positive, drew liberally on his
imagination for his facts. Great numbers of these dossiers
were destroyed in the incendiary fires of the Commune ;
some of its leaders were no doubt anxious that no such
records should remain. The criminal classes also rejoiced,
but not for long. One of the first acts of the authorities
when order was re-established was to reconstitute the
criminal dossiers, a work of immense toil necessitating
reference to all the archives of prisons and tribunals. Within
a couple of years some five million slips were got together
and the documents filled eight thousand boxes. It is to be
feared that the secret police is still active in Paris, even
under a free Republic ; secret funds are still produced to
pay agents ; among all classes of society spies may be found
even to-day ; in drawing-rooms and in the servants' hall, at
one's elbow in the theatre, among journalists, in the army, and
in the best professions. That this is no exaggeration may be
gathered from the fact that the dossiers are still in process of
manufacture. M. Andrieux, a former prefect, who has pub-
lished his reminiscences, describes how on taking office the
first visitor he received was his chief clerk, who, according to
the regular custom, put his dossier into his hands. " It bore
the number 14207," M. Andrieux tells us, "and I have it now in
my library, bound, with all the gross calumnies and truculent
denunciations that form the basis of such documents."
The regular police organisation, that which preserves
order, checks evil-doing, and " runs in " malefactors, falls
naturally and broadly into two grand divisions, the adminis-
trative and the active, the police " in the office " and the
police "out of doors." The first attends to the clerical
business, voluminous and incessant, for Frenchmen are the
slaves of a routine which goes round and round like clock-
work. There is an army of clerks in the numerous bureaus,
hundreds of those patient Government employes, the ronds
de cuir, as they are contemptuously called, because they sit
THi: SEBOENT BE VILLE. 93
for choice on round leather cushions, writing and filling in
forms for hours and hours, day after day. The active army
of police out of doors, which constitutes the second half of
the whole machine, is divided into two classes: that in
uniform and that in plain clothes. Every visitor to Paris
is familiar with the rather theatrical-looking policeman, in
his short frock coat or cape, smart kepi cocked on one side of
his head, and with a sword by his side. This '' agent"
"sergent de ville," "gardien de la paix" — and he is known by
all three titles — ^has many excellent quaUties, is, no doubt, a
very useful public servant. He is almost invariably an old
soldier, a sergeant who has left the army with a first-class
character, honesty and sobriety being indispensable quali-
fications. Our own Metropolitan Police is not thus recruited:
the Scotland Yard authorities rather dislike men with
military antecedents, believing that army training, with its
stiff and unyielding discipline, does not develop that spirit of
good-humoured conciliation so noticeable in our police when
dealing with the public. Something of the same kind is seen
in Paris ; for it is said that it takes two or three years to
turn the well-disciplined old soldier into the courteous and
considerate sergent de ville. His instructions are, however,
precise; he is strictly cautioned to use every form of per-
suasion before proceeding to extremities, he is told to warn
but not to threaten, very necessary regulations when deahng
with such a highly strung, excitable population as that of
Paris. The sergents de viUe are constantly stationed in the
same quarter of the town, so they become more or less
intimately acquainted with their neighbours and charges.
They are thus often enabled to deal with them in a friendly
way; a httle scolding is found more effective than intimi-
dation, and strong measures may be avoided by tact and
forbearance.
The uniformed police are not all employed in the streets
and arrondissements. There is a large reserve composed of
the six central brigades, as they are called, a very smart body
of old soldiers, well drilled, dressed, and fully equipped;
armed, moreover, with rifles, with which they mount guard
9-i MOBERN POLICE: LONDON, PABI8, AND NEW YORK.
when employed as sentries at the doors or entrance of the
Prefecture. In Paris argot the men of these six central
brigades are nicknamed " vaisneaux" (vessels), because they
carry on their collars the badge of the city of Paris — an
ancient ship, while the sergeants in the town districts wear
only numbers ; their own individual number, and that of the
quarter in which they serve. These vaisseaux claim to be
the dite of the force ; they come in daily contact with the
Gardes de Paris, horse and foot, a fine corps of city gen-
darmerie, and, as competing with them, take a particular pride
in themselves. Their comrades in the quarters resent this
pretension, and declare that when in contact with the people
the vaisseawx, make bad blood by their arrogance and want
of tact. The principal business of four at least of these
central brigades is to be on call when required to reinforce
the out-of-doors police at special times. They are ready to
turn out and preserve order at fires, and will, no doubt, be
the first in the fray if Paris is ever again convulsed with
revolutionary troubles.
Of the two remaining central brigades, one controls
public carriages, the other the Halles, that great central
market by which Paris is provided with a great part of its
food. It is exceedingly well managed, and a model worthy
of imitation by us. The cabmen of Paris are not easily
controlled, but they are probably a much rougher lot than
the London drivers, and they, no doubt, need a much tighter
hand. Every cab-stand is under the charge of its own
policeman, who knows the men, notes their arrival and
departure, and marks their general behaviour. Other police
officers of the central brigades superintend the street traffic,
but not so successfully as do our pohce ; indeed, parties of the
French police have from time to time been sent to London
for instruction in this difficult branch of police business, but
have hardly benefited by their teaching. Parisian cabmen are
forbidden to rove in search of fares, or hang about in front
of cafes, and at street corners, the penalty being imprison-
ment without the option of a fine. Indeed, a special quarter
in one of the Paris prisons is known as the " cabmen's," and is
PARISIAN CABMEN. 95
often full of them. Yet the drivers are honest enough,
possibly in spite of themselves, but many curious stories are
told of the self-denial shown by these hardworked, poorly
paid servants of the public. A rich Kussian, who had won
ten thousand francs one night at his club left the whole sum
behind him in a cab in which he had driven home. He was
so certain that he had lost it irreparably that he returned to
St. Petersburg without even inquiring whether or not it had
been given up. Some time later he was again in Paris, and a
friend strongly urged him at least to satisfy himself whether
or not the missing money had been brought to the lost pro-
perty office. He went and asked, although the limit of time
allowed to claim the lost property was almost expired. " Ten
thousand francs lost ? Yes, there it is," and after the proper
identification the money was restored to him. " What a fool
that cabman must have been!" was the Russian's only remark.
Again, a certain jeweller in the Palais Royal left a diamond
parv/re worth 80,000 francs (£3,200) in a cab, and the police,
when he reported the loss, gave him scant hope of recovery.
He did not know the number of the cabman — he had picked
him up in the street, not taken him from the rank ; and, worse
than all, he had quarrelled with the driver, the reason why he
had abruptly left the cab. The case seemed quite hopeless,
yet the cabman brought back the diamonds of his own
accord. The quaintest part of the story is to come. When
told at the Prefecture to ask the jeweller for the substantial
reward to which he was clearly entitled, he replied : " No,
not I; he was too rude. I hope I may never see him or
speak to him again."
AU cabmen are not so honest, however ; many seek to
hide their findings, even when surrendering them, by making
false statements of the manner in which they were left.
Thus, when the rightful owner claims, the story of the loser
does not tally with the finder's. Now and again the fraudu-
lent cabman gets caught. It was so in the case of a beautiful
tortoise-shell fan, which was deposited under a wrong de-
scription and eventually, after the legal interval of one year,
handed over to the cabman who had |found it. Soon
96 MODFjBN polio E: LONDON, PARIS, AND NEW YORK.
afterwards a lady turned up to claim it, and as she described
it exactly, and as the full time to establish the cabman's
ownership had not elapsed, he was ordered to restore it to the
lady, whose name was communicated to him. " But she has
no right to it," protested the cabman. " She is a thie£ I
know the real owner. I have known her from the first. It
is Mdlle. ," and he named a popular actress, thus con-
fessing his own misconduct. The actress was then summoned,
and did in effect identify the fan as the one she had lost.
But it was proved satisfactorily that the other lady had also
lost a fan that was curiously similar.
The vicissitudes of treasure-trove might be greatly multi-
plied. The most curious chances happen, the strangest
articles are brought to the police authorities. Everything
found in the streets and highways, in omnibuses, theatres,
cabs, railway stations, is forwarded to the Prefecture. Here
come jewellery and cash to large amounts. In one case an
immigrant who had made his fortune in Canada and carried
it in his pocket, in the shape of fifty notes of ten thousand
francs each (£20,000), dropped his purse as he chmbed on to
the outside of an omnibus. The conductor picked it up and
restored it ; certainly he was rewarded with £500, and richly
deserved it for resisting so great a temptation. Beds, brooches,
boots, sheets even, are brought into the Prefecture. A
mummy was once among the trouvailles ; there are umbrellas
without end. Hogier Grisons, a French writer, from whom
many of these incidents are taken, says that a friend of
his declares that whenever he finds himself without an
umbrella he goes straight to the Prefecture, describes some
particular one, according to his fancy, with such and such a
handle, a certain colour, and so on, when he always has the
exact article handed over to him.
So much for the police in uniform. That in plain clothes,
en bourgeois, as the French call it, is not so numerous, but it
fulfils a higher, or at least a more confidential, mission. Its
members are styled inspectors, not agents, and their functions
fall under four principal heads. There is, first of all, the
service of the 8'0/reU — in other words, of public safety — the
THE POLICE OF NEW YORK. 97
detective department employed entirely in the pursuit and
capture of criminals, of which more anon; next comes the
police, now amalgamated with the S-drete, that watches over the
morals of the capital in a fashion that would not be tolerated
in this country, and with arbitrary powers under the existing
laws of France ; last of all the brigade de gamis, the police
charged with the supervision of all lodging-houses, from the
commonest " sZeep-sellers' shop," as it is called, to the grandest
hotels. Last of all there are the brigades for inquiries, whose
business it is to act as the eyes and ears of the prefecture — in
plain English, as its spies.
There are many complaints in Paris that the police are
short-handed, especially in the streets. The average is 16 to
a quarter inhabited by 30,000 to 40,000 people, so the beats
are long and the patrol work severe, especially at night, though
the numbers of the sergents de ville are then doubled. Some
say that the streets of Paris are more unsafe in the more remote
districts than those of any capital of Europe. The police are
much abused, too, by the Radical and Irreconcilable press. It
is not uncommon to read such headlines as the following in
the daily papers : " Crimes of the Police," " Police Thieves,"
" Murder by a Sergent de Ville," gross exaggerations, of course.
The truth, no doubt, is that the police of Paris taken as a
whole are a hard-working, devoted, and generally estimable
body of public servants.
The organisation of the New York police is elaborate, not
to say cumbrous, but it works well, and till quite lately was
believed in that city to rank with the best and finest in the
world. Its services have been great, the bravery of some of
its members conspicuous in life-saving, and yet more in quell-
ing riot and disturbance. At times of emergency it is en-
trusted with great powers ; a free people readily perceives that
law must over-ride licence, and permits its constituted guar-
dians to use the strong arm on occasion to an extent that
would not be tolerated in sober old England. To " loose oif
his revolver " after the fugitive whom he cannot catch or who
has slipped through his fingers, is no uncommon practice with
the American policeman. I call to my mind the summary end
98 MODERN FOLIGE : LONDON, PARIS, AND NEW YORK.
put to a prolonged strike of " street-car " employes during one
of my visits to New York. A force of policemen in plain
clothes and armed to the teeth, were sent " down town " on
a steet car with orders to fight their way through, which they
did. The number of casualities was not reported. This
reckless spirit is not unlikely to degenerate into absolute
outrage, and the New York policemen have been openly
accused of using unnecessary and brutal violence, not only
when making justifiable arrests but towards perfectly in-
ofiensive persons. According to a writer in the North
American Review not long since, " the records of the Police
Commissioners show that within a few years hundreds of
complaints have been made by respectable citizens who
have felt that their persons and self-respect have been most
shamefully abused by policemen."
The supreme authority is vested in a board of commis-
sioners, four in number, one of whom is elected President ; but
he, like his colleagues, has his own pecuHar functions. The
president deals with discipline and the charges brought
against the officers of the force ; one commissioner deals with
purchase and supplies, another with pensions, and the fourth
is the treasurer of the police funds. Under the board there
is a superintendent, who is the chief of the personnel, and has
direct control of all out-of-door police business. He is assisted
by four inspectors : three being each responsible for a wide
district of the city, the fourth being the head of thB detective
department. The final subdivision is into " thirty-four pre-
cincts," each of which is under the immediate orders and
supervision of a police captain who is responsible for the
public peace within its limits. The captain's daily record of
duties and occurrences makes up the police history of the city.
New York, with a population of nearly two millions, has a
police force which many consider inadequate to its needs. By
the last statistics I have to hand the proportion of constables
to citizens is as 1 to 572, while here in London the percentage
is as 1 to 342, and in the city of London it is as 1 to 100.
The constitution of the New York police is much affected by
the political conditions of the city: "party" has perhaps too
BRIBERY AND BLACKMAIL. 99
strong a voice in appointments, and the policeman's vote, or
the votes he can influence, has, it is said, affected discipline
by giving the subordinate undue -weight with his superiors.
Not long since very grave charges were brought against the
force, many of which were more or less substantiated. The
existence of bribery and blackmail was proved, and to an
extent sufficient to damage the reputation of several officers
who stood in high place and in high favour.
Note. — I had written the foregoing lines before rending Mr. W. T.
Stead's remarkable work, " Satan's Invisible World Displayed," and it is clear
that I have understated the case against the New York Police. The appaBing
disclosures made before Senator Lexow's Committee show that up to ihe time
of its appointment the police was an organised tyranny of the worst kind — that
of " a body of men practically above the law, armed with powers hardly
inferior to those of the police of St. Petersburg." The city was " terrorised by
a band of Thugs." The most atrocious acts of oppression were of daily
occurrence. The citizens were subjected to appalling outrages, ' ' they were
abused, clubbed, imprisoned, and even convicted of crimes on false testimony
by policemen and their accomplices." Bribery and corruption were screened
and supported by the most criminal and unblushing perjury. Blackmail
was levied on all sides ; certain trades and callings could not exist without
paying tribute to the police. Authority, or the pretence of it, was maintained by
the most brutal ill-usage of the innocent and weak, so that the station-houses
were called " slaughter-houses," in which prisoners were belaboured unmerci-
fully. The guardians of the law not only winked at crime, but participated
in the illegal profits of swindling and fraud. Gambling of all kinds flourished
vmder the protection of the police authoritiee, with the rank and file as patrons.
The administration of the law was corrupt, there was no justice to be found in
the police-court ; " the blackguard lawyer, hand-in-hand vrith the bandit police-
man, found an even more detestable scoundrel than themselves upon the bench."
Last of all, the freedom of the franchise was altogether subverted by the
police as agents of Tammany Hall, the supreme autocracy under which these
horrors grew up and flourished. That this awful picture is not too darkly
painted may be realised by a reference to the work from which the materials are
obtained. Some attempt has now been made to purge the New York police of
the evils that disgraced it, with what result the future alone can show.
CHAPTER IV.
THE DETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
The Detective in Fiction and in Fact — Early Detection — Case of Lady Ivy —
Thomas Chandler — Mackoull, and clever Pursuit by Scotch Officer, Mr.
Denovan — Tidooq : his Early Life, Police Services, and End — French
Detectives generally — Amicahle Eelations between French and English
Police.
The detective, both professional and amateur, since Edgar
Allan Poe invented Dupin, has been a prominent personage
in fiction and on the stage. He has been made the central
figure of innumerable novels and plays, the hero, the pivot
on which the plot turns. Readers ever fi.nd him a favourite,
whether he is called Hawkshaw or Captain Redwood, Grice or
Stanhope, Van Vernet or Pere Tabaret, Sherlock Holmes or
Monsieur Lecocq. But imagination, however fertile, cannot
outdo the reality, and it is with the detective in the flesh
that I propose to deal. I propose to take him in the
different stages of his evolution — from the thief domesticated
and turned to pursue his former associates, down to the
present honourable officer, the guardian of our lives and
property, the law's chief weapon and principal vindicator.
In times past the pursuit and detection of crime were
left very much to chance ; but now and again shrewd agents,
both public officials and private persons, contributed to the
discovery of frauds and crimes. Long ago in France, as I have
shown, there was an organised police force which had often
resort, both for good and evil, to detective methods. Here in
England the office of constable was purely local, and his
duties were rather to make arrests in clear cases of flagrant
wrong-doing than to follow up obscure and mysterious crime.
EARLY DETECTION. 101
The ingenious piecing togetlier of clues and the following
up of light and baffling scents was generally left to the
lawyers and those engaged on behalf of the parties injured
or aggrieved.
LADY ivy.
One of the first cases on record of a cleverly planned fraud
on a very large scale was the claim raised by a Lady Ivy,
in 1684, to a large estate in ShadweU. It was based on
ancient deeds produced, and purporting to be drawn more than
a hundred years previously, in the " 2nd and 3rd Philip and
Mary of 1555-6, under which deeds the lands had been granted
to Lady Ivy's ancestors." The case was tried before the
famous, or, more correctly, the infamous Judge Jeffreys, and it
was proved to the satisfaction of the jury that the deed put
forward had been forged. It was discovered that the style and
titles of the king and queen as they appeared in the deed
were not those used by the sovereigns at that particular date.
Always in the preambles of Acts of Parliament of 1555-6
Philip and Mary were styled " King and Queen of Naples,
Princes of Spain and Sicily," not, as in the deed, " King and
Queen of Spain and both the Sicilies." Agaia, in the deed
Burgundy was put before Milan as a dukedom ; in the Acts
of Parliament it was just the reverse. That style did
come in later, but the person drawing the deeds could not
foretell it, and as a fair inference it was urged that the deeds
were a forgery. Other evidence was adduced to show that
Lady Ivy had forged other deeds, and it was so held by Judge
Jeffreys : " If you produce deeds made in such a time when,
say you, such titles were used, and they were not so used, that
sheweth your deeds are counterfeit and forged and not true
deeds. And there is Digitus Dei, the finger of God in it, so
that though the design be deep laid and the contrivance
sculk, yet truth and justice will appear at one time or
other."
Accordingly, my Lady Ivy lost her verdict, and an
information for forgery was laid against her, but with what
result does not appear.
102 THE JDETEGTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
THOMAS CHANDLER.
Fifty years later a painstaking lawyer in Berkshire was
able to unravel another case of fraud which had eluded the
imperfect police of the day. It was an artful attempt to
claim restitution from a certain locality for a highway
robbery said to have been committed within its boundaries:
a robbery which had never occurred.
Upon the 24th March, 1747, according to his own story,
one Thomas Chandler, an attorney's clerk, was travelling on
foot along the high road between London and Beading.
Having passed through Maidenhead Thicket and in the
neighbourhood of Hare Hatch, some thirty miles out, he was
set upon by three men, bargees, who robbed him of all he
possessed, his watch and cash, the latter amounting to £960,
all in bank notes. After the robbery they bound him and
threw him into a pit by the side of the road. He lay there
some three hours, till long after dark, he said, being unable
to obtain release from " his miserable situation," although the
road was much frequented and he heard many carriages and
people passing along. At length he got out of the pit
unaided, and, still bound hand and foot, jumped rather than
walked for half a mile uphill, calling out lustily for anyone
to let him loose. The first passer-by was a gentleman, who
gave him a wide berth, then a shepherd came and cut his bonds,
and at his entreaty guided him to the constable or tything-
man of the hundred of Sunning in the county of Berks.
Here he set forth in writing the evil that had happened
him, with a full and minute description of the thieves, and at
the same time gave notice that he would in due course sue
the Hundred for the amount under the statutes. All the
formalities being observed, process was duly served on the
high constable of Sunning, and the people of the Hundred,
alarmed at the demand, which if insisted upon would be the
" utter ruin of many poor families," engaged a certain
attorney, Edward Wise, of Wokingham, to defend them.
Mr. Wise had all the quahties of a good detective ; he was
ingenious, yet patient and painstaking, and he soon put
OLE FEB SGHEME OF FRAUD. 103
together the facts he had cleverly picked up about Chandler.
Some of these seemed at the very outset much against the
claimant. That a man should tramp along the high road
with nearly £1,000 in his pockets was quite extraordinary;
again, that he should not escape from the pit till after dark,
or that his bonds should have been no better than tape, a
length of which was found at the spot where he was untied.
He seemed, moreover, to be little concerned by his great loss.
After he had given the written notices to the constable, con-
cerning which he was strangely well informed, having all the
statutes at his fingers' ends, as though studied beforehand,
he ordered a hot supper and a bowl at the Hare and Hounds
in Hare Hatch, where he kept it up till late in the night.
Nor was he in any hurry to return to town and stop payment
of the lost notes at the banks, but started late and rode
leisurely to London.
It was easy enough to trace him there. He had given
his address in the notices, and he was soon identified as the
clerk of Mr. Hill, an attorney in Clifibrd's Inn. It now
appeared that Chandler had negotiated a mortgage for a
cHent of his master, upon certain lands ia the neighbour-
hood of Devizes for £509, far more, as it was proved, than
their value. An old mortgage was to be paid off in favour
of the new, and Chandler had set off on the day stated to
complete the transaction, carrying with him the £500 and the
balance of £460 supposed to be his own property, but how
obtained was never known. His movements on the day
previous were also verified. He had dined with the
mortgagee when the deed was executed and the money
handed over in notes. These notes were mostly for small
sums, making up too bulky a parcel to be comfortably
carried under his gaiters (the safest place for them, as he
thought), and he had twice changed a portion, £440 at
the Bank of England for two notes, and again at " Sir
Richard Hoare's shop " for three notes, two of £100 and one
of £200. With the whole of his money he then started tc
walk ninety miles in twenty-four hours, for he was expected
next day at Devizes to release the mortgage.
104 THE DETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
Mr. Hill had kept a list of his notes in Chandler's hand-
writing, which Chandler was anxious to recover when he got
back, in order, as he said, to stop payment of them at the
banks. His real object was to alter the numbers of three
notes of Hoare's, all of which he wished to cash and use, and
he effected this by having a fresh list made out in which these
notes were given new and false numbers. Thus the notes
with the real numbers would not be stopped on presentation.
He did it cleverly, changing 102 to 112, 195 to 159, 196 to
190, variations so slight as to pass lumoticed by Mr. HiU
when the list as copied was returned to him. These three
notes were cashed and eventually traced back to Chandler.
Further, it was clearly proved that he had got those notes
at Hoare's in exchange for the £200 note, for that note
presently came back to Hoare's through a gentleman who had
received it in part payment for a captain's commission of
dragoons, and it was then seen that it had been originally
received from Chandler.
While Mr. Wise was engaged in these inquiries the trial
of Chandler's case against the Hundred came on at Abingdon
assizes in Jime, and a verdict was given in his iavour for
£975, chiefly because Mr. Hill was associated with the mort-
gage, and he was held a person of good repute. But a point
of law was reserved, for Chandler had omitted to give a full
description of the notes, as required by statute, when adver-
tising his loss.
But now Chandler disappeared. He thought the point of
law would go against him; that the mortgagee would press
for the return of the £500 which he had recovered from the
Hundred ; that his master, Mr. Hill, had now strong doubts
of his good faith. The first proved to be the case ; on
argument of the point of law the Abingdon verdict was set
aside. There was good cause for his other fears. News now
came of the great bulk of the other notes ; they reached the
bank from Amsterdam through brokers named Solomons,
who had bought them from one "John Smith," a person
answering to the description of Chandler, who in signing the
receipt "wrote his name as if it had been wrote with a
GSANDLEB CHASED. 105
skewer." The indefatigable Mr. Wise presently found that
Chandler had been in Holland with a trader named Casson,
and then found Casson himself.
All this time Mr. Hill was in indirect communication with
Chandler, writing letters to him by name " at Easton in
Suffolk, to be left for him at the Crown at Ardley, near
Colchester, in Essex." Thither Mr. Wise followed him,
accompanied by the mortgagee, Mr. Winter, and the " Holland
trader," Mr. Casson, who was ready to identify Chandler.
They reached the Crown at Ardley, and actually saw a letter
" stuck behiad the plates of the dresser," awaiting Chandler,
who rode in once a fortnight, from a distance, for " his mare
seemed always to be very hard rid." There was nothing
known of a place called Easton ; but Aston and Assington
were both suggested to the eastward, and in search of them
Mr. Wise with his friends rode through Ipswich as far as
Southwold, and there found Easton, a place washed by the sea,
and he halted, " being thus pretty sure of going no further east-
ward." But the scent was false, and although a young man
was run into, whom they proposed to arrest with the assist-
ance of " three feUows from the Keys, who appeared to be
smugglers, for they were pretty much maimed and scarred,"
the person was clearly not Chandler. So, finding " we had
been running the wrong hare, we trailed very coolly all the
way back to Ipswich."
Travelling homeward, they halted a night at Colchester,
and called at an inn, the Three Crowns, or the Three Cups,
where Chandler had been seen a few months before. Here,
as a fact, after overrunning their game near fourscore miles,
" they got back to the very form," yet even there lost their
hare. This inn was kept at that very time by Chandler, in
partnership with his brother-in-law Smart, who naturally
would not betray him, although he was in the house when
asked for. '
After this Chandler thought Colchester " a very improper
place for him to continue long in." There were writs out
against him in Essex, Suffolk, and Norfolk, so he sold off his
goods and moved to another inn at Coventry, where he set up
106 TEH DETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
at the sign of the Golden Dragon under the name of John
Smith. Now, still fearing arrest, he thought to buy off
Winter, the mortgagee, by repaying him something, and sent
him £130. But Winter was bitter against him, and writs
were taken out for Warwickshire. Chandler had in some way
secured the protection of Lord Willoughby de Broke ; he had
also made friends with the constables of Coventry, and it was
not easy to compass his arrest. But at last he was taken and
lodged in the town gaol, Two years had been occupied in
this pertinacious pursuit, prolonged by trials, arguments,
journeyings to and fro, and Mr. Wise was greatly com-
plimented upon his zeal and presented with a handsome
testimonial.
Chandler, who was supposed to have planned the whole
affair with the idea of becoming possessed of a considerable
sum in ready money, was found guilty of perjury, and was
sentenced to be put in the pillory next market day at Reading
from twelve to one, and afterwards to be transported for seven
years.
A curious feature in the trial was the identification of
Chandler as John Smith by Casson, who told how at
Amsterdam he (Chandler) had received payment for his bills
partly in silver — £150 worth of ducats and Spanish pistoles —
which broke down both his pockets, so that the witness had
to get a rice- sack and hire a wheelbarrow to convey the
coin to the Delft " scout," where it was deposited in a chest
and so conveyed to England.
MACKOULL.
A detailed reference has been made in previous pages
to the Bow Street runners, to Vickery, Lavender, Sayer,
Donaldson, and Townsend, whose exploits were often remark-
able in capturing criminals. None of them did better,
however, than a certain Mr. Denovan, a Scotch officer of
great intelligence and unwearied patience, who was employed
by the Paisley Union Bank of Glasgow to defend it against
the extraordinary pretensions of a man who had robbed
it and yet sued it for the restoration of property which was
AN HABITUAL CRIMINAL OF OLD. 107
clearly the bank's and not his. For the first and probably-
only time known in this country, an acknowledged thief was
seen contending with people in open court for property he
had stolen from them.
The hero of this strange episode was one James MackouU,
a hardened and, as we should say nowadays, an "habitual"
criminal. He was one of the most extraordinary characters
that have ever appeared in the annals of crime. His was
a clear case of heredity in vice, for his mother had been a
shoplifter and low-class thief, who had married, hoAvever, a
respectable tradesman ; all her children — three sons and two
daughters — had turned out badly, becoming in due course
notorious offenders. One of them, John Mackoull, was well
educated, and the author of a work entitled " The Abuses of
Justice," which he brought out after his acquittal on a charge
of forgery; another brother, Ben Mackoull, was hanged for
robbery in 1786.
James Mackoull began early, and at school stole from his
companions. He studied little, but soon became an expert
in the science of self-defence, and, being active and athletic,
he took rank in due course as an accompUshed pugilist. His
first public theft was from a cat's-meat man, whom he robbed
by throwing snuff in his eyes ; while the man was blinded, he
cut the bag of coppers fastened to the barrow and bolted.
Henceforth he became a professional thief, and with two
noted associates, Bill Drake and Sam Williams, did much
business on a large scale.
One of his most remarkable feats was his robbery from the
person of a rich undertaker, known as " The Old Raven,"
who was fond of parading himself in St. James's Park, dressed
out in smart clothes and wearing conspicuously exposed a fine
gold watch set with diamonds. Mackoull knew that "The Old
Raven" entered the park from Spring Gardens most days,
punctually at 4 p.m., so he timed himself to arrive a little
earlier. He waited till the undertaker had passed him, then
pushed on in front, when he turned round suddenly, and,
clutching the watch with one hand, knocked his victim's hat
over his eyes with the other. Fearing detection for this theft
108 THE DETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
wMch caused considerable noise, Mackoull thought it prudent
to go to sea. He entered the Royal Navy, and served for two
years on board H.M.S. Apollo as an officer's servant. His con-
duct was exemplary, and he was presently transferred to
H.M.S. Centurion, on which ship he rose to be purser's
steward. He was discharged with a good character after
nine years' service afloat, and returned to London about 1785
with a considerable sum of money, the accumulations of
prize-money and pay.
The moment he landed he resumed his evil courses.
Having rapidly wasted his substance in the ring, in the cock-
pit, and at the gaming-table, he devoted himself to picking
pockets with great success. He gave himself out as the
captain of a West Indiaman, and being much improved in
appearance, having a genteel address and fluent speech, he
was well received in a certain class of society. At the end of
a debauch he generally managed to clear out the company.
He was an adept at " hocussing," and it served him well in
despoiling his companions of their purses and valuables.
It was at this time that he gained the sobriquet of the
" Heathen Philosopher " among his associates. He owed it to
a trick played upon a master baker, whom he encountered
at an election in Brentford. This worthy soul affected to
be learned in astronomy, and Mackoull approached him,
courteously advising him to have a look at the strange
" alternating star " to be seen that night in the sky. As
soon as the baker was placed to view the phenomenon,
Mackoull deftly relieved him of his pocket-book, which he
knew to be well lined. Then, as the baker could not see the
star properly and went home to use his telescope, Mackoull
promptly decamped, returning to town in a post-chaise.
Now Mackoull married a lodging-house keeper, and went
into the business of " receiving." At first he stored his stolen
goods in his mother's house, but as this became insecure he
devised a receptacle in his own. He chose for the purpose a
recess where had formerly been a window, but which had been
blocked up to save the window-tax. It was on that account
called " Pitt's picture." But the hiding-place was discovered,
MAGKOULL'S SUPPOSED MUBDEB. 109
and as MackouU was " wanted," lie escaped to the Continent,
where he frequented the German gambling-tables and learnt
the language. He visited Hamburg, the fair at Leipsic,
Rotterdam, and he is said to have often played billiards
with the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, whom he
reUeved of all his superfluous cash.
Again he had to fly, but being afraid to return to London
he travelled north, and landed at Leith in 1805. Thence
he went to Edinburgh, and lodged in the Canongate, devoting
himself to his old pursuits at taverns, when he " called himself
a Hamburg merchant and made many friends." A theft at
the theatre was nearly fatal to him. He was caught by a
police officer in the act of picking a gentleman's pocket, and,
after running for his life, was at last overtaken. Having no
assistance at hand, the " town officer " struck him on the
head with his " batoon." MackouU fell with a deep groan,
and the officer, fearing he had killed him, made off. As the
result of this encounter MackouU was long laid up, and he
carried the scar on his forehead to his dying day.
He grew more daring and more truculent as time passed,
and it is believed he was the author of the well-known murder
of Begbie, the porter of the British Linen Company Bank —
a crime never brought home to him, however, and the
murder remained a mystery to the last. This victim, return-
ing from Leith carrying a large parcel of bank-notes, was
stabbed in the back at the entrance of Tweedale's Court.
Several persons were suspected, apprehended, and discharged
for want of evidence. Yet the most active measures were
taken to detect the crime. " Hue-and-cry " biUs were thrown
off during the night, and despatched next morning by the
mail-coaches to all parts of the country. It was stated in
this notice that " the murder was committed with a force and
dexterity more resembling that of a foreign assassin than an
inhabitant of this country. The blow was directly to the
heart, and the unfortunate man bled to death in a few
minutes." Through Mr. Denovan's investigations many facts
were obtained to implicate MackouU, but the proof of his
guilt was still insufficient.
110 TEE DETEGTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
One of the most suspicious facts against ■him was that
later on he was often seen in the Belle Vue grounds, and
here, in an old wall, many of the notes stolen from the
murdered porter were presently discovered. They were those
of large value, which the perpetrator of the crime would find
it difficult to pass. Reports that they had been thus found,
and in this particular wall, were in circulation some three
weeks before they were actually unearthed, and it is believed
the story was purposely put about to lead to their recovery.
It is a curious fact that the stonemason who came upon the
notes in pulling down the wall resided close to the spot where
the murder had been committed. But for the good luck that
he was able to prove clearly that he was not in Edinburgh at
the time of the murder, he might be added to the sufficiently
long list of victims of circumstantial evidence.
Mackoull at this time passed to and fro between Edin-
burgh and Dublin, and was popular in both capitals, a pleasant
companion, ever ready to drink and gamble and join in any
debauchery. He became very corpulent, and it was said of
him that he did not care how he was jostled in a crowd.
This was necessary as a matter of business sometimes, but one
night at the Edinburgh theatre he got into trouble. Incledon,
the famous vocalist, was singing to full houses, and Mackoull
in the crowded lobby picked a gentleman's pocket. He was
caught in the act, but escaped for a time; then was seized
after a hot pursuit, searched with no result, for he had dropped
his booty in the race. They cast him into the Tolbooth, but
he was released after nine months' detention for want of
proof As the story is told, the gentleman robbed was much
displeased at Mackoull's release and complained of this failure
of justice. The judge before whom the thief had been arraigned
admitted that he ought to have been hanged. " He went to
the play-house to steal and not to hear music ; and he gave a
strong proof of this, Mr. P., when he preferred your notes to
Mr. Incledon's."
Mackoull, retiring south after his liberation, lay low for a
time, but he made one expedition to Scotland for the purpose
of passing forged notes, when he was again arrested, but again
BOBS THE PAISLEY BANE. Ill
evaded the law. Another enterprise in Chester failed; the
luck was against him for the moment. But now, having
sought out efficient confederates, he laid all his plans for the
robbery of some one or other of the great Scottish banks.
He was well equipped for the job, had secured the best men
and the finest implements.
He was assisted by two confederates, French and Huffey
White,* the latter a convict at the hulks, whose escape Mackoull
had compassed on purpose. They broke into the Paisley Bank
of Glasgow on Sunday night, July 14, 1811, with keys care-
fully fitted long in advance, and soon ransacked the safe and
drawers, securing in gold and notes something like £20,000.
Of course, they left Glasgow at once, travelling full speed, in
a postchaise and four, first to Edinburgh and then vid
Edinburgh, Haddington, Newcastle southward to London.
In the division of the spoil which now took place Mackoull
contrived to keep the lion's share. White was appre-
hended, and to save his Hfe a certain sum was surrendered
to the bank ; but some of the money, as I have said else-
where,t seems to have stuck to the fingers of a Bow Street
officer, Sayer, who had negotiated between Mackoull and the
bank. Mackoull himself had retained about £8,000.
In 1812, after a supposed visit to the West Indies, he
reappeared in London, where he was arrested for breach of
faith with the bank and sent to Glasgow for trial. He got off
by a promise of further restitution, and because the bank was
unable at that time to prove his complicity in the burglary.
An agent who had handed over £1,000 on his account, was
then sued by MackouU for acting without proper authority,
and was obliged to refund a great part of the money. Nothing
could exceed his effrontery. He traded openly as a bill broker
in Scotland under the name of James Martin; buying the
bills with the stolen notes and having sometimes as much as
£2,000 on deposit in another bank. At last he was arrested,
and a quantity of notes and drafts were seized with him. He
was presently discharged, but the notes were impounded, and
by and by he began a suit to recover " his property " — the
* See post, p. 114. + See ante, p. 79.
112 THE DETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
proceeds really of his theft from the bank. His demeanour
in court was most impudent. Crowds filled the court when
he gave his evidence, which he did with the utmost effrontery,
posing always as an innocent and much injured man.
It was incumbent upon the bank to end this disgraceful
parody of legal proceedings. Either they must prove
Mackoull's guilt or lose their action ; an action brought, it
must be remembered, by a public depredator against a
respectable banking company for daring to retain a part of
the property of which he had robbed them. In this difficulty
they appealed to Mr. Denovan, a well-known officer and agent
of the Scotch courts, and sent him to collect evidence showing
that MackouU was implicated in the original robbery in 1811.
Denovan left Edinburgh on January 8, 1820, meaning to
follow the exact route of the fugitives to the south. All along
his road he came upon traces of them in the " post books " or
in the memory of innkeepers, waiters, and ostlers. He passed
through Dunbar, Berwick, and Belford, pausing at the latter
place to hunt up a certain George Johnson who was said to
be able to identify MackouU. Johnson had been a waiter at
the Talbot inn, Darlington, in 1811, but was now gone — to
what place his parents, who lived in Belford, could not say.
" Observing, however, that there was a church behind the
inn," writes Mr. Denovan, " a thought struck me I might hear
something in the churchyard on Sunday morning," and he
was rewarded with the address of Thomas Johnson, a brother
of George's, " a pedlar or travelling merchant." "I immediately
set forth in a postchaise and found Thomas Johnson, who gave
me news of George. He was still alive, and was a waiter
either at the Bay Horse in Leeds or somewhere in
Tadcaster, or at a small inn at Spittal-on-the-Moor, in West-
moreland, but his father-in-law, Thomas Cockburn, of York,
would certainly know."
Pushing on, Denovan heard of his men at Alnwick. A
barber there had shaved them. ' I was anxious to see the
barber, but found he had put an end to his existence some
years ago." At Morpeth the inn at which they had stopped
was shut up. At Newcastle the posting book was lost, and
DENOVAN, BETEGTIVE. 113
when found, in the bar of the Crown and Thistle was " so muti-
lated as to be useless." But at the Queen's Head, Durham,
there was an entry, " Chaise and four to Darlington, Will and
Will." The second " Will " was still alive, an ancient postboy,
who remembered MackouU as the oldest, a " stiff red-faced
man," the usual description given of him. The landlady
here, Mrs. Jane Escott, remembered three men arriving in a
chaise who said they were pushing on to London with a
quantity of Scotch bank notes. At the Talbot inn, Darling-
ton, where George Johnson had lived, the scent failed till
Denovan found him at another inn, the King's Head. He quite
remembered the three fugitives coming from Durham and
that he had mentioned to his master his surprise that " three
such queer-looking chaps should be posting it."
At Northallerton there was evidence — that of Scotch notes
changed; and at York news of George Johnson, who was
found at last, a fish hawker at Tadcaster. Johnson's evidence
was most valuable, and he willingly agreed to give it in court
at Edinburgh. He had seen the three men at Durham, the
oldest, " a stiff, stout man with a red face, seemed to take the
management, and paid the postboys their hire." He had
offered a £20 Scotch note in payment for two pints of sherry
and some biscuits, but there was not change enough in the
house, and White was asked for smaller money, when he
took out his pocket stuffed full of bank notes, all too large,
so the first note was changed by Johnson at the Darhngton
bank. Johnson was sure he would know the "stiff man"
again amongst a hundred others in any dress.
There was nothing more now till the White Hart, Welwyn,
where the fugitives had taken the light post-coach. At
Welwyn, too, they had sent off a portmanteau to an address,
and this portmanteau was afterwards recovered with the
address in Mackoull's hand, the other two being unable to
write. At Wehvyn Mr. Denovan heard of one Cunnington,
who had been a waiter at the inn in 1811, but left in 1813 for
London, and who was said to know something of the matter.
The search for this Cunnington was the next business, and
M r. Denovan pushed on to London hoping to find him there.
114 THB BETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
"In company witli a private friend I went up and down
Holborn inquiring for him at every baker's, grocer's, or public
house," but heard nothing. The same at the coaching offices,
until at last a guard who knew Cunnington said he was in
Brighton. But the man had left Brighton, first for Horsham,
then for Margate, and then gone back to London, where Mr.
Denovan ran him down at last as a patient in the Middlesex
Hospital.
Cunnington was quite as important a witness as Johnson.
He declared he would know MackouU among a thousand.
He had seen the three men counting over notes at the White
Hart ; Mackoull did not seem to be a proper companion for
the two ; he took the lead and was the only one who used pen,
ink, and paper. Cunnington expressed his willingness to go
to Edinburgh if his health permitted.
Since Denovan's arrival in London he had received but
Httle assistance at Bow Street. The runners were irritated at
the way the case had been managed. One of them, Sayer, who
had been concerned in the restitution, flatly refused to have
anything to do with the business, or to go to Edinburgh to give
evidence. This was presently explained by another runner,
the famous Townsend, who hinted that Sayer's hands were
not clean, and that he was on very friendly terms with Mac-
koull's wife, a lady of questionable character, who was living in
comfort on some of her husband's ih-gotten gains. Indeed,
Sayer's conduct had caused a serious quarrel between him and
his colleagues, Lavender, Vickery, and Harry Adkins, because
he had deceived and forestalled them. Denovan was, however,
on intimate terms with Lavender, another famous runner,
whom he persuaded to assist, and through him he came upon
the portmanteau sent from Welwyn, which had been seized at
the time of Huffey White's arrest. Huifey had been taken in
the house of one Scoltop, a blacksmith in the Tottenham
Court Road, also the portmanteau and a box of skeleton keys.
Both were now found in a back closet in the office at Bow
Street, " under a singular collection of rubbish, and were
actually covered by WiUiams' bloody jacket, and the maul
and ripping iron with which the man Wilhamson had
HIS SUCCESS. 115
been murdered in Ratcliff Highway. The portmanteau con-
tained many papers and notes damaging to MackouU, and
in the box were housebreaking implements, punches, files, and
various " dubs " and " skrews," as weU. as two handkerchiefs
of fawn colour, with a broad border, such as the three thieves
often wore when in their lodgings in Glasgow immediately
before the robbery.
How Mr. Denovan found and won over Scoltop is a chief
feather in his cap. His success astonished even the oldest
ofiicers in Bow Street. Scoltop was the friend and associate
of burglars, and constantly engaged in manufacturing imple-
ments for them. He had long been a friend of Mackoull's
and had made many tools for him, those especially for the
robbing of the Paisley Union Bank, a coup prepared long
beforehand. The first set of keys supplied had really been
tried on the bank locks and found useless, so that Scoltop
had furnished others and sent them down by mail These
also were ineffective, as the bank had "simple old-
fashioned locks," and MackouU came back from Glasgow,
bringing with him "a wooden model of the key hole and
pike of the locks," enabled Scoltop to complete his job
easily. "I wonder," said Scoltop to Mr. Denovan, "that
the bank could have trusted so much money under such
very simple things." Scoltop would not allow any of this
evidence to be set down in writing, but he agreed to go
down to Edinburgh and give it in court, and swear also to
receiving the portmanteau addressed in the handwriting of
MackouU.
Denovan's greatest triumph was with Mrs. MackouU. She
kept a house furnished in an elegant manner, but was not
a very reputable person. "She was extremely shy at first,
and as if by chance, but to show that she was prepared
for anything, she lifted up one of the cushions on her
settee displaying a pair of horse pistols that lay below,"
on which he produced a double-barrelled pistol and a card
bearing the address " at the Public Oflace, Bow Street."
Then she gave him her hand and said "We understand
each other." But still she was very reticent, acting, as Mr.
116 THE DETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
Denovan believed, under the advice of Sayer, the not incor-
ruptible Bow Street runner. She was afraid she would be
called upon to make a restitution of that part of the booty
that had gone her way. Denovan strongly suspected that
she had received a large sum from her husband and had
refused to give it back to him — " the real cause of their
misunderstanding," which was, indeed, so serious that he had
no great difficulty in persuading her also to give evidence at
Edinburgh.
Such was the result of an inquiry that scarcely occupied
a month. It was so complete that the celebrated Lord
Cockbum, who was at that time counsel for the Bank, de-
clared " nothing could exceed Donovan's skiU, and that the
investigations had the great merit of being amply sustained
by evidence in all its important parts." When the trial of
the cause came on in February, and Denovan appeared in
court with all the principal witnesses, Johnson, Cunington,
Scoltop, and Mrs. MackouU, the defendant — it was only
a civil suit — was unable to conceal his emotion, and fainted
away. This was, practically, the throwing up of the sponge.
Soon afterwards he was indicted for the robbery of the bank,
and on conviction sentenced to death. He was greatly cast
down at first, but soon recovered his spirits, and while
awaiting execution received a number of visitors in the
condemned cell. Among them was his wife, who returned
his constant ill-treatment with great generosity, providing
him with the means of purchasing every luxury. She
also applied for and obtained a reprieve for him. But he
might escape the gallows, but not death. Within a couple
of months of his sentence he fell into mental imbecility
his hitherto jet black hair grew white, and his physical
faculties failed him. Before the year was ended he died.
FRENCH DETECTIVES.
The first regular organisation of detective police may be
said to have been created by Vidocq, the famous French
thief, who, having turned his own coat, found his best
assistants in other converted criminals. Vidocq's personal
VIDOGQ. 117
reminiscences have been read all the world over and need
hardly be recounted here. It was at the end of a long
career of crime, of warfare with justice, in which he had
been perpetually worsted, that he elected to go over to the
other side. He would cease to be the hare, and would, if
permitted, in future hunt with the hounds. So he offered
his services to the authorities, and they were at first
bluntly refused. M. Henri, the functionary at the head
of the criminal department of the Prefecture, sent him
about his business . without even asking his name.
This was in 1809, during the ministry of Fouch6. Vidocq,
rebuffed, joined a band of coiners, who betrayed him to.
the police, and he was arrested, nearly naked, on the roof
as he was trying to escape. He was taken before M. Henri,
whom he reminded of his application and renewed his offers,
which were now accepted, but coldly and distrustfully. The
only condition he had made was that he should not be
relegated to the galleys, but held in any Parisian prison
the authorities might choose. So he was committed to La
Force, and the entry appears on the registry of that prison
that he was nominally sentenced to eight years in chains ;
it was part of his compact that he should associate freely
with other prisoners and secretly inform the poHce of all
that was going on. He betrayed a number of his unsus-
pecting companions and seems to have been very proud of his
treacherous achievements. No prisoner had the shghtest
suspicion that he was a police spy, and none of the officials,
except the gate-keeper. In this way he earned the gratitude
of the authorities, who thought he might be more useful
at large. In order to give a plausible explanation of his
release, it was arranged that he should be sent from the prisoE
of La Force to Bicetre and permitted to escape by the way,
Vidocq has given his own account of his escape : " I was
fetched from La Force and taken off with the most rigorous
precaution, handcuffed and lodged in the prison van ; but
I was let out on the road." The report of this daring
escape, as it was supposed, was the talk of all Paris, and
the cause of great rejoicing in criminal circles, where
118 THE DETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
Vidocq's health was drunk with many wishes for his
continued good fortune.
Vidocq made excellent use of his freedom. He entered
freely into all the low haunts of the city and was received
with absolute confidence by every miscreant abroad. Through
him, although he kept carefully in the background, innumer-
able arrests were made ; one of the most important was the
head of a gang of robbers named Guenvive, whose acquaint-
ance he made at a cabaret, where they exchanged some
curious confidences. Guenvive was very anxious to put
him on his guard against "that villain Vidocq," who had
turned traitor to his old friends. But Guenvive assured
Vidocq that he knew him intimately and there was nothing
to be feared while he was by. Together they went to attack
Vidocq, each carrying handkerchiefs loaded with two-sous
pieces, and watched for him at his front door. For obvious
reasons Vidocq did not come out, but his ready concurrence
in the scheme made him Guenvive's most intimate friend.
The robber was willing to enrol Vidocq in his band, and
proposed that he should join in a grand affair in the Kue
Cassette. Vidocq agreed, but took no part in the actual
robbery on the pretence that he could not safely be out
in the streets as he had no papers. When the party, having
successfully accomplished their coup, carried their plunder
home to Guenvive's quarters, they were surprised by a visit
of the police, during which Vidocq, who was present, con-
cealed himself under the bed. The end of this business
was the condemnation of the robbers to travaux forces,
but they appeared to have discovered how and by whom
they had been betrayed.
Vidocq made another important arrest in the person
of Fossard, already a notorious criminal, but who became
more famous by his celebrated theft of medals from the
Bibliotheque Royale.* Fossard was a man of athletic pro-
portions and desperately brave; he had escaped from the
Bagne of Brest and was supposed to be prepared to go any
lengths rather than return there; he was always armed to
See post, vol. ii.
ARBESTS FOSSARR Hit
the teeth, and swore he would blow out the brains of
anyone who attempted to take hun. He lived somewhere
near the Rue Poissonniere ; the neighbourhood was known,
but not the house or floor ; the windows were said to have
yellow silk blinds, but many other windows had the same;
another indication was that Fossard's servant was a little
humpbacked woman, who also worked as a milliner. Vidocq
found the hunchback, but not her master, who had moved
into another residence over a wineshop at the corner of
the Rue Duphot and the Rue St. Honore. He at once
assumed the disguise of a charcoal-seller and verified the
lodging, but waited for an opportunity to take the criminal.
Although he was armed and no coward, he realised that
the only safe way to secure Fossard would be in his bed.
Vidocq now took the tavern-keeper into his confidence,
warned him that he had under his roof a very dangerous
robber, and that this lodger was only waiting a favourable
chance to rob his till. The first night that the receipts had
been good the ruffian would certainly lay hands upon the
money. The tavern-keeper was only too glad to accept the
assistance of the police, and promised to admit them when-
ever required. One night, when Fossard had returned home
early and gone to bed, Vidocq and his comrades were let in
during the small hours, and the following trick was arranged.
The tavern-keeper had with him a little nephew, a child of
ten, precocious and ready to earn an honest penny. Vidocq
easily taught him a little tale. The child was to go upstairs
to Fossard's door in the early morning, and ask Fossard's wife
for some eau-de-cologne, saying his aunt was unwell. The
child played his part well; he went up, closely followed by
the police in stockinged feet ; he knocked, gave his mes-
sage, the door was opened to him, and in rushed the officers,
who secured Fossard before he was well awake.
In these later days of the Empire the police were more
actively engaged with political espionage than the capture of
criminals, and Paris was very much at the mercy of the latter.
There were whole quarters given up to malefactors — places,
particularly beyond the Barrier, which offered a safe retreat
120 THE DETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
to escaped convicts, deserters, thieves, the whole fraternity of
crime, into which no police-officer was bold enough to enter.
Vidocq volunteered to clear out at least one of them, a tavern
kept by a certain Desnoyez, always a very favourite and
crowded resort. Accompanied by a couple of police officers
and eight gendarmes, he started off to execute a job for which
his superiors declared that he needed a battalion at least.
But on reaching Desnoyez's he walked straight into the salon,
where a Barrier ball was in progress, stopped the music, and
coolly looked around. Loud cries were raised of " Turn him
out!" but Vidocq remained imperturbable, and exhibiting his
warrant, ordered the place to be cleared. His firm aspect
imposed upon even the most threatening, and the whole com-
pany filed out one by one past Vidocq, who stationed himself
at the door. Whenever he recognised any man as a person
wanted or a dangerous criminal, he marked his back adroitly
with a piece of white chalk as a sign that he should be made
prisoner outside. This was effected by the gendarmes, who
handcuffed each in turn, and added him to a long chain of
prisoners, who were eventually conducted in triumph to the
Prefecture.
Vidocq's successes gained him a very distinct reputation
in Paris; he had undoubtedly diminished crime — at least
he had reduced the number of notorious criminals who
openly defied justice ; it was decided, therefore, to give him
larger powers, and in 1817 he was authorised to establish
a regular body of detectives, the first " Brigade de Siirete,"
which was composed of a certain number of agents devoted
entirely to the pursuit of crime. They were no more than
four in number at first, but the brigade was successively
increased to six, twelve, twenty, and at last to twenty-eight.
In the very first year, between January and December, 1817,
Vidocq had only twelve assistants ; yet amongst them they
effected 772 arrests, many of them of the most important
character. Fifteen of their captives were murderers, a hun-
dred and eight were burglars, five robbers with violence,
and there were some two hundred and fifty thieves of other
descriptions. Such good work soon gained Vidocq detractors,
VIDOCQ'S MEN. 121
and the old, official, clean-handed police, not unnaturally
jealous, charged him with actually preparing crime in order
that he might detect it. The police authorities were privately
informed by these other employes that Vidocq abused his
position disgracefully, and carried on widespread depredation
on his own account. In reply they were told that they could
not be very skilful, or they would have caught him in the
act. Having failed to implicate Vidocq himself, they fell
upon his assistants, most of them ex-thieves, whom they
declared now carried on their old trade with impunity. Vidocq
soon heard of these insinuations, and, to give a practical denial
of the charge, ordered all his people to invariably wear gloves.
To appear without them, he declared, would be visited with
instant dismissal. To understand this proceeding, it is neces-
sary to remind the reader that a pocket can only be picked by
a bare hand.
Certainly Vidocq and his men were neither idle nor expen-
sive to maintain ; their hours of duty were often eighteen out
of the twenty-four; sometimes they were days and days consecu-
tively employed, the chief himself was incessantly active ; no
one could say how he lived or when he slept. Whenever he
was wanted he was found dressed and ready, with a clean-
shaven face like an actor, so that he might assume any
disguise — wigs, whiskers, or moustaches of any length or
colour; sometimes, it is said that he changed his costume
ten times a day. He was a man of extraordinarily vigorous
physique, strong and squarely built, with very broad shoulders ;
he had fair hair, which early turned to grey, a large thick
nose, blue eyes, and a constant smile on his lips. He always
appeared well-dressed, except when in disguise, and was
followed everywhere he went, but at a slight distance, by
a cabriolet, driven by a servant on whom he could rely. He
always went armed with pistols and a long knife or dagger.
His worst points were his boastfulness and his insupportable
conceit.
M. Canler, afterwards chief of the detective police, tells an
amusing story in his Memoirs of how Vidocq was fooled by
one of his precious assistants. In selecting among candidates.
122 TEE DETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
the old thief sought the boldest and most impudent. One day
a man he did not know, Jacquin, offered himself, and Vidocq,
to try him, sent him to buy a couple of fowls in the market.
Jacquin presently brought back the fowls and also the ten
francs Vidocq had given him to pay for them. He was asked
how he had managed. It was simple enough. He had
gone into the market carrying a heavy hod on his shoulder,
and, when he had bargained for the fowls, he asked the
market woman to place them for him on the top of the
stones on the hod. While she obliged him, he picked her
pocket of the ten francs he had paid her. Jacquin
acted the whole affair before Vidocq, whom he treated
just as he had the owner of the fowls. When the
sdance was over, he had robbed Vidocq of his gold watch
and chain.
After ten years of active work Vidocq resigned his post.
He was at cross purposes, it was said, with his superiors ;
M. Delavau, the new prefect, had no sympathy with him,
and was so much under priestly influence as to abhor
Vidocq, who probably foresaw that he had better withdraw
before he was dismissed. The real reason was that he had
feathered his nest well, and was in possession of sufiicient
capital to start an industrial enterprise, the manufacture
of paper boxes. To this he presently added a bureau de
renseignements, the forerunner of our modern private inquiry
office, for which he was peculiarly well fitted with his
abundant and varied experience. He soon possessed a wide
clientele, and had as many as 8,000 cases registered in his
office. At the same time his brain was busy with practical
inventions, such as a burglar-proof door and a safety paper —
one that could not be imitated and used for false documents.
His private inquiry business prospered greatly, but got
him into serious trouble. There seems to have been no
reason to charge him with dishonesty, yet he was arrested
for fraud and " abuse of confidence " in some two hundred
instances ; he was mixed up in some shady transactions,
among them money-lending and bill discounting. He was
also accused of tampering with certain employes in the
" TEE GREAT INTEBMEBIABY." 123
War Office, and his papers were seized by the police. Some
idea of the extent of his business may be gathered from
the description of his offices, which were extensive, sump-
tuously furnished, and organised into first, second, and
third divisions, like a great department of State, each
served by a large staff of clerks. A little groom in livery,
with buttons bearing Vidocq's monogram, ushered the
visitor into his private cabinet, where the great " Inter-
mediary," as he called himself, sat at a great desk, sur-
rounded by fine pictures (for one of which, it was said, he
had refused £2,800) and installed with every sign of luxury
and good taste.
Nothing came of this arrest, which Vidocq took quite
as a joke, although he was detained in the Conciergerie for
three months and his business suffered. Yet, afterwards,
the poHce would not leave him alone. Old animosities had
never disappeared, and they were revived when Vidocq
occasionally turned his hand to his old work and caught
someone that the regular police could not find. He had
started a sort of "trade protection society," by which, on
payment of a small annual fee, any shopkeeper or business
man could obtain particulars concerning the solvency of
new clients. The number of subscribers soon exceeded
8,000, and Vidocq, in one of his published reports, fixed the
amount he had saved his customers at several thousands
of pounds. A fresh storm burst over him when he un-
masked and procured the arrest of a long-firm swindler,
before the police knew anything of the case.
Once more he was arrested, in 1842 ; his papers were
impounded, there were rumours of tremendous disclosures,
family scandals, crimes suppressed — all manner of villaiuies.
No doubt he had made himself the "intermediary" in
matters not quite savoury, but the worst things against
him were an unauthorised arrest and a traffic in decorations
very much on the Grevy- Wilson lines of later days. The
prejudice against him must have been strong, and the
case ended in a sentence of eight years' imprisonment,
which was, however, reversed on appeal. He was much
124 TEE BETEOTIVJE, OLD AND NEW.
impoverished by his lawsuits, and one of his last proceedings
was to appear before a London audience dressed, first, as a
French convict in chains, then in the various disguises he
used in following up malefactors. Although his lecture
was in French, he seems to have attracted large audiences
at the Cosmorama. Sir Francis Burdett was a great patron
and supporter of Vidocq, and was in the habit, whenever
he visited Paris, of inviting the old thief-taker to dine with
him at the Trois Freres Kestaurant in the Palais Royal.
Vidocq died in penury in 1857 at a very advanced age.
Vidocq's mantle, after his resignation of his ofiicial post,
fell upon one of his own young men, for the fallacious idea still
held that to discover thieves it was necessary to have been a
thief The choice fell upon one Coco-Latour, who had been a
robber of the housebreaking class, and was much esteemed
for his enterprise in that particular branch of crime. He
now took over Vidocq's offices and staff, with much the
same results. Arrests were constantly made, numbers of
depredators were brought to justice, but again and again
in court there were some discreditable scenes; fierce re-
criminations between the dock and the witness-box, little
to choose between the accused criminal and the man
who had captured him. PubUc feeling was revolted by
these exhibitions, and at last the authorities resolved to
abolish the system. M. Gisquet, who was prefect of police
broke up Coco-Latour's band of ex- brigands and ordered
that in future the work should be done by persons of
unblemished character. Any who had been once con-
victed were declared ineligible. New and respectable offices
were installed under the wing of the Prefecture, replacing the
old dens in low streets which had been no better than thieves'
haunts infested by the worst characters.
From 1832, when this salutary change took effect, until
the present day the French detective has won well-deserved
credit as an honourable, faithful public servant, generally
with natural aptitudes trained and developed by advice and
example. " A man does not become a detective by chance ;
he must be born to it " ; he must have the instinct, the flair,
FRENCH DETECTIVES TO-BAY. 125
the natural taste for the business — qualities which carry him
on to success through many disheartening disappointments
and seeming defeats. The -best traditions of the Paris Pre-
fecture have been worthily maintained by such men as Canler,
Claude, Mac^ Goron, and Cochefert. Their services have been
conspicuous, their methods good, and they are backed by
useful, if arbitrary, powers, such as the right to detain and
interrogate suspected persons, which our police, under the
jealous eye of the law, have never possessed. This might seem
to give the French police the advantage as regards results, yet
it is the fact that, with all their limitations, the English police
can compare favourably with that of our French neighbours,
and, as has been said, if we have at times to reproach our
servants with failure, there are also many undetected crimes,
of cases " classed," or put by as hopeless, in France.
A few stories may be inserted here, illustrating the more pro-
minent traits of the French detectives, their patience, courage,
promptitude, and ingenuity. No pains are too great to take ;
a clue is followed up at all costs and all hazards. The
French police are equal to any labours, any hardships, any
emergency, any dangers. The words " two pounds of butter,"
written on a scrap of paper found on the theatre of a great
crime, led Canler and his officers to visit every butter-
man's shop in Paris, till at last the man who had sold and
the criminal who had bought the butter were found. In
the same way a knife picked up was shown to every cutler
until it was identified and the purchaser traced. A mur-
dered man had been seen in company with another the
day before the crime; the latter was seen and described to
the police, who got on his track within twenty-four hours,
checked the employment of his time, and found the tailor who
had sold him his clothes ; within another day his lodging was
known, on the fourth he was arrested and the crime brought
home to him. Two men on the watch for a criminal held on
three days and nights out of doors, in December, almost with-
out food, and, to justify their presence in the high road,
pretended to be navvies working at repairs. Four detectives,
in pursuit of five murderers, divided the business among
126 TEE DETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
them : one played the flute at a hall frequented by their men,
another sold pencils in the street, a third worked in brickfields
frequented by their quarry, a fourth kept the men wanted
constantly in view.
Another detective disguised himself as a floor polisher,
simply to get on friendly terms with a man of the same
calling, who was an assassin. The disguises assumed are
various and surprising, and this may be taken as fact in spite
of statements to the contrary. A detective has been seen in a
blue blouse distributing leaflets in the street, and again
recognised (by a friend) in correct evening dress at a diploma-
tic reception. There was once attached to the Prefecture a
regular wardrobe of all sorts of costumes, and a dressing-room
as in a theatre, with wigs and all facilities for " making up."
This is now left to the individual himself, but not the less does
he disguise. So clever do these detectives become in playing
assumed parts, that it is told of two who were employed in a
high-class case, one as master, the other as valet, that after the
job was done, the master had so identified himself with his
part as to check his comrade afterwards for his familiarity in
addressing him.
The French detective often shows great tact and prompti-
tude. One of them one day recognised a face without being
able to put a name to it, and followed his man into a 'bus.
" Don't arrest me here," said the other. " I'll come with you
quietly when we leave the omnibus.'' It proved to be a
prisoner who had escaped that very morning from the depSt of
the Prefecture, whom the police officer had only seen for a
moment in the passage. Perpetual suspicion becomes second
nature with the detective ; he has to be constantly on the alert,
his imagination active; he must readily invent tricks and
dodges when the occasion demands. There is a positive order
that an arrest must be made quietly, if possible unobserved, and
not in any cafe, theatre, or public place. This obliges him to
have recourse to artifice to entrap his prey. Fortunately,
most criminals are simplicity itself, and readily give them-
selves away. It is enough to send a message for the man
wanted, and he will appear at the wineshop round the corner.
POLICE COURTESIES. 127
bringing, say, his tools to do some imaginary job. But
courage is also a quality constantly shown. It was a French
detective who shared the cell with the infamous Troppmann,
and got him to confess the crime when off his guard. The
murderer would certainly have tried to destroy his companion
on the slightest suspicion of his real character. Hand-to-
hand encounters are common ; bold arrests of malefactors
showing fight with knife or revolver are part of the French
detective's daily business, and carried out fearlessly.
It is satisfactory to know that very amicable relations
exist between London and Paris detectives, and one is at
all times willing to render assistance to the other. I have
heard that the French greatly admire the completeness of
our Metropolitan Police machine, its extensive ramifications,
the " informations " or budget of facts and police circum-
stances issued four times daily from Scotland Yard, and
the facility with which news is circulated and action started
in aU — even in most remote — parts. Our people have made
many famous captures for the French: Francois, to wit,
and other anarchists ; Arton, the Panama scapegoat, and
many more. Not long ago the French police were deeply
anxious to know the exact whereabouts of a certain indi-
vidual, and sent over his photograph and description by a
trusted agent for distribution among our police divisions. It
so happened — a little aided by good fortune, perhaps — that
the French agent was enabled to put his hand on the man
he wanted the very first afternoon of the search. On the
other hand, Maxime du Camp tells a story of the urgent visit
made to the head of the French police of three Englishmen,
two of them jewellers, the third a well-known London detec-
tive, who were in hot pursuit of an employe who had
"looted" the jewellers' shop to the value of some £16,000.
Directly they had told their story the French ofiicial quietly
said, "I know aU about it; wait one moment." A message
was sent downstairs to the prison cells below, and the thief
in person was brought up. Then the jewel boxes with their
contents were produced, and one of the jewellers, overcome
with joy, fainted away on the spot. The affair seemed
128 TEE DETECTIVE, OLD AND NEW.
miraculous, and yet it was perfectly simple. Information
had readied the French poHce that a young Englishman,
but just arrived in Paris, and staying at one of the best
hotels had pawned five pieces of valuable jewellery at the
Mont de Piete, the great public pawnshop, and out of
curiosity they paid him a domiciliary visit. He was found
in his room surrounded with portmanteaus crammed full
of gems.
CHAPTER V.
ENGLISH DETECTIVES.
English Detectives — First Appointments of present Officials — Late Mr.
■Williamson— Inspector Melville— Sir C. Howard Vincent — Dr. Anderson
— Mr. Macnaughten— Mr. Mc William— A Country Detective's Experiences
— ABan Pinkerton, hia first Essay ia Detection — The Private Inquiry
Agent.
Although the old Bow Street runner either retired from
business or set up what we should call now private inquiry
offices, the new organisation did not include any members
especially devoted to the pursuit and detection of crime.
The want of them caused much inconvenience, and after
fifteen years' life the Metropolitan Police was strengthened
by the employment of a few constables in plain clothes,
charged with the particular duty of, so to speak, secretly
safeguarding the public. The plan was first adopted by
Sir James Graham, when Home Secretary, and only ten-
tatively, for the old distrust and suspicion of secret spies
and underhand police processes lingered. There was some-
thing unpleasant, people said, in the idea of a disguised
pohce; personal freedom was in danger, and it was there-
upon tried on a very small scale.* No more than a round
dozen were appointed at first — three inspectors and nine
Serjeants, but very shortly six constables were added as
"auxiliaries," and gradually the total became 108, only a
* The opinion expressed by a Parliamentary Committee, in 1833, on this
wearing of plain clothes is worth recording. " With respect to the occasional
employment of police in plain clothes," says the report, "the system affords no
just matter of complaint while strictly confined to detecting breaches of the law.
. . . . At the same time, the Committee -would strongly urge the most
cautious maintenance of these limits, and solemnly deprecate any approach to
the employment of spies, in the minor acceptance of the term, as a practice most
abhorrent to the feelings of the people and most alien to the spirit of the
constitution."
130 ENGLISH DETECTIVES.
small proportion of the total 6,000 which made up the
whole force.
The real intention and uses of this " plain clothes "
police was that they should be ever on the alert, ever
at the heels of wrong-doers, and ready to follow up clues
or track them down unperceived. They quickly overcame
the first prejudice against them, and began by their sub-
stantial services to win popular esteem. Charles Dickens
may be said to have discovered the modern detective. His
papers in Household Words were a revelation to the public,
and the life portraits he drew of some of the most notable
men employed in this comparatively new branch of criminal
pursuit were the just rewards accorded to those excellent
officers.
A few words may fitly find place here concerning some of
our latest developments of this most useful and not always
sufficiently appreciated class. I should be glad to do justice
to the memory of one who spent a lifetime at Scotland Yard,
and was long the very centre and heart of the detective
department, the late Mr. Williamson. Starting as a private
constable and ending as chief constable, he was, from first to
last, one of the most loyal, intelligent, and indefatigable of
the many valuable public servants who have deserved well
of their fellow-citizens. Yet to the outside world he was
probably little more than a name through all his long years of
arduous and uncompromising service. Few but the initiated
recognised the redoubtable detective in this quiet, unpre-
tending, middle-aged man, who walked leisurely along
Whitehall, balancing a hat that was a httle large for him
loosely on his head, and often with a sprig of a leaf or
flower between his lips. He was naturally very reticent;
no outsider could win from him any details of the many
big things he had put through. His talk, for choice, was
about gardening, for which he had a perfect passion; and
his blooms were famous in the neighbourhood where he spent
his unofficial hours. Another very favourite diversion with
him, until the increasing pressure of work denied him any
leisure, was boating. He was very much at home on the
MB. WILLIAMSON. 131
Thames, a powerful sculler, and very fond of it. He never
missed till the very last a single Oxford and Cambridge boat-
race, seeing it for choice from the police steam-launch — the
very best way Indeed of going to the race, but a pleasure
reserved for the Home Secretary, police officials, and a few of
their most intimate friends. The police boat is the last to go
down the course, and the first to follow the competing eights.
One or two especially trying circumstances helped to break
Williamson down rather prematurely. He took very much to
heart the misconduct of his comrade detectives in the well-
known and notorious de Goncourt turf frauds. He was at
that time practically the head of his branch, and some of the
blame — but, of course, none of the disgrace — was visited upon
him, as it was argued that his men had been allowed too
free a hand. This may have been the case ; but he had to
deal with men of uncommon astuteness, who were the more
unscrupulous because he trusted them so implicitly, with the
trust of a right loyal nature, true to those above him, and
counting upon fidelity from his subordinates.
Mr. Williamson's active career was also chequered by the
diabolical nature of the crimes which kept him most busily
employed. Fenianism might have been found written on his
heart, like Calais on Queen Mary's, and closely interwoven
with it, anarchism and nihilism in all their phases. He knew
no peace when foreign potentates were the guests of our
royalties ; Scotland Yard was, in fact, held responsible for the
safety of Czar and Emperor, and the police authorities
depended chiefly on Williamson, with his consummate know-
ledge and long experience in exotic crime. It was Williamson
who was first on the scene when dynamite was discovered,
infernal machines had exploded, or might be expected to do
so at any moment.
To him the officer who is nowadays our chief mainstay
and defence against these outrages. Inspector Melville, owes
much of his insight into the peculiar business of the " special
section," as this important branch of criminal investigation
is called. The latter not long ago disposed very ingeniously
of a case which might have led to very serious mischief
132 ENGLISH DETECTIVES.
Fertility of resource with great promptitude in action are
among Mr. Melville's strongest and most valuable traits.
On one occasion, during the visit to England of a foreign
Sovereign, information was received that one of his subjects
residing in this country, and by no means loyal to him,
intended to do him an injury the first time he could get
near him in public. It happened that at that moment the
imperial visitor was on the point of joining in a great pro-
cession, which had either actually started, or would in the
course of an hour or so. The malcontent was employed as
cellarman to a wine and spirit merchant or publican with
large wine vaults. There was no time to lose, and Melville
made the best of his way to the place, saw the proprietor,
and inquired for a certain brand of champagne he wished
to purchase. The master called his man and sent them
down together into the cellars. The cellarman went first
with a light ; at the bottom of the staircase he unlocked
the wine cellar and went in — still first.
'' What wine is that over yonder ? " asked Melville care-
lessly, and the man crossed over to the far end of the vault
to look before he answered. This was all the astute officer
wanted. With a sudden inspiration he seized upon the
opportunity, stepped back out of the cellar, closed the door
promptly and locked it. The irreconcilable cellarman was
a prisoner, and was left there perfectly unable to carry out
his fell purpose. After the procession was over he was set
free.
Most of the prominent detectives of to-day learnt their
work under Williamson : — Butcher, now chief inspector, who
is as fond of flowers as his master, and may be known by
the fine rose in his buttonhole ; Littlechild, who earned his
first reputation in unravelling and exposing long-firm and
assurance office frauds ; Neald, the present curator of the
Black Museum: a sturdy, self-reliant, solid detective officer
with the esprit of his calling strong in him; who, among
other great cases, worked to a successful issue the " Orrock "
murder, when the syllable " rock " scratched upon a chisel
led to ultimate detection.
CHIEFS OF CRIMINAL INVESTiaATION. 133
The exposure of the detectives' misdeeds in 1876 brought
a superior official to Scotland Yard, and the first head of the
newly named Criminal Investigation Department was Colonel
Howard Vincent. His appointment was a surprise to many,
and his fitness for the post was not immediately apparent.
He was young, comparatively speaking, unknown, inex-
perienced in police matters, with no previous record but a
brief military service, followed by a call to the Bar. But he
was energetic, painstaking, a man of order, with some power
of organisation ; above all, a gentleman of high character
and integrity. His reign at Whitehall Place may not have
been marked by any phenomenal feats in detection ; in the
pursuit of crime he was dependent upon his most able
subordinates, and it was his rule to summon the most ex-
perienced to advise on all serious cases. In the more subtle
processes of analysis and deduction, of working from effect to
cause, from vague, almost impalpable indices to strong pre-
sumption of guilt, Howard Vincent did not shine ; nor did he
always realise the value of reticence and secrecy in detective
operations ; but he did good work at Scotland Yard by
raising the general tone and systematising the service.
Mr. Anderson, one of the Assistant Commissioners of
Police, the present chief of the Investigation Department, is
an ideal detective officer, with a natural bias for the work,
and endowed with] gifts peculiarly useful in it. He is a man
of the quickest apprehension, with the power of close, rapid
reasoning from facts, suggestions, or even impressions. He
seizes on the essential point almost by intuition, and is
marvellously ready in finding the real clue or indicating
the right trail. With all this he is the most discreet, the
most silent and reserved of public functionaries. Someone
said he was a mystery even to himself. This, to him,
inestimable quality of reticence is not unaided by a slight,
but perhaps convenient, deafness, which Mr. Anderson culti-
vates and parades on occasions. If he is asked an em-
barrassing question, he quickly puts up his hand and says
the inquiry has been addressed to his deaf ear. But I
shrewdly suspect that he hears all that he wishes to hear ;
134 ENGLI8S DETECTIVES.
little goes on around him that is not noted and understood ;
without seeming to pay much attention, he is always listening
and drawing his own conclusions.
Subordinates naturally look up to such a leader, relying
confidently upon his advice, and eager for his encouragement.
Of course he holds his whole department in the hollow of his
hand; from his desk he can communicate with all its branches.
The speaking tubes hang just behind his chair. A little fur-
ther off is the office telephone, which brings him into converse
with Sir Edward Bradford, the Chief Commissioner, or col-
leagues and subordinates in more distant parts of the bouse.
He is, and must be, perforce, an indefatigable worker, for the
labours of his department are unceasing, and often of the most
anxious, even disappointing, character. Although he has
perhaps achieved greater success than any detective of his
time, there will always be undiscovered crimes, and just
now, as we know, the tale is pretty full.
Mr. Macnaughten, the Chief Constable, or second in com-
mand of the Investigation Department, is a type of man
admirably adapted to supplement his chief. He is essentially
a man of action, whilst Mr. Anderson is perhaps best and
strongest in the closet. He is in very close touch, too, with
the personnel of the department, who gladly recognise his
authority, and are eager to second him and give effect to his
views. A man of presence is Mr. Macnaughten — tall, well-
built, with a military air, although his antecedents are rather
those of the public school, of Indian planter life, than of
the army. His room, like his chiefs, is hung with speaking
tubes, his table deep with reports and papers, but the walls
are bright with photographs of officials, personal friends, and
of some notorious criminals. Mr. Macnaughten keeps by him,
as a matter of business, some other and more gruesome pic-
tures, always under lock and key ; photographs, for instance,
of the victims of Jack the Ripper, and of other brutal
murders, taken immediately after discovery, and reproducino-
with horrible fidelity the mutilated remains of a human body,
but which might belong to a charnel-house or abattoir. It is
Mr. Macnaughten's duty, no less than his earnest desire, to
GITY BETEGTIVES. 135
be iirst on the scene of any such sinister catastrophe. He
is therefore more intimately acquainted perhaps with the
details of the most recent celebrated crimes than anyone in
Scotland Yard.
Nor can the detective officers of the City Police be passed
by without an acknowledgment of their skill and devotion to
the public service, especially Mr. McWilliam, who has long
been chief of the department. He has repeatedly shown
himself a keen, clear-headed, highly intelligent official, and he
has gained especial fame in the unravelling of forgeries and
commercial frauds. The sixth of the so-called Whitechapel
murders, that of Mitre Square, was perpetrated within the City
limits and brought the additional energies and acumen of the
City detectives to the solution of a mystery which still remains
unsolved. Under such chiefs as these the rank and file labour,
assiduously utilising the qualities which really serve them
best — patience and persistence, following the hints and sug--
gestions given them by their more thoughtful leaders. The
best detective is he who has that infinite capacity for taking
trouble which has been defined as the true test of genius.
It is not by guesses or sensational snapshots that crimes
are unearthed, but by the slow process of routine, almost
commonplace inquiry, after the most minute, painstaking
investigation of the traces left upon the theatre of the deed.
The smallest clues, in the hands of these laborious workers
will often bring them to the end of the labyrinth. Not long
ago, half a horn button, picked up on the floor of a house
rifled by burglars, led to the arrest of the perpetrators.
The detective employed remembered that certain notorious
" family men " were just then at large, and he made it his
business to beat up their quarters. Fortune, that most
useful adjunct in detection, helped him, for the man he
wanted was in custody for some minor offence, and he was
discovered in a police cell wearing the very coat with the
other half of the broken button.
People whom business or chance has brought much into
contact with detectives must have been struck with their
ubiquity. All who have a good memory for faces or the
136 ENGLISH DETECTIVES.
wit to penetrate disguises mil have had many opportunities
of recognising them in strange places and at unexpected
times. The police officer is to be met with in railway
trains, on board steamboats, in hotels, at all places of
public resort. They may be seen in " the rooms " at Monte
Carlo, retained by " the administration " of the casino to
keep their eye on the company, or engaged on business of
their own, "shadowing" some shady character. I have
given my coat and hat to a detective at a great London
reception in a historic house, where many of the guests
were titled or celebrated people, but into which others,
unbidden and extremely undesirable, had been known to
insinuate themselves in the prosecution of their nefarious
trade. I have met detectives at a wedding breakfast, at a
big dinner, at balls during the season, and I can safely
assert that these "professionals" were certainly not the
least gentlemanlike in manners or costumes of the guests
assembled.
There is no better company than a good detective, if
he can only be persuaded to talk — no easy matter, for
reticence is a first rule of conduct in their profession, and
they are seldom communicative except on perfectly safe
ground. It was my good fortune once to be thrown with
a well-known member of a provincial force, many of whom
include first-rate detective practitioners. It was some years
back, and I am committing no breach of confidence in
recounting some of his experiences.
" Never let go, sir : that's the only rule. I like to keep
touch of 'em when once I've got 'em," he began, and he spoke
pensively, as though his mind were busy with the past,
and he rubbed his hand thoughtfully over his chin.
A man dressed quietly but well ; his brown greatcoat was
not cut in the very last fashion, perhaps, but it was of glossy
cloth and in good style; he wore a pearl pin in his black
silk scarf, and his boots, although thick-soled and sub-
stantial, were neatly made. His face was hard, shrewd, but
not unkindly, and there was a merry twinkle in his pene-
trating grey eyes, which seemed to see through you in a
A COUNTRY DETEGTIVE. 137
single glance. Although very quiet and unobtrusive in
manner, he was evidently a man of much determination of
character; it was to be seen in his slow, distinct way of
speaking, and by the firm lines of a mouth which the
clean-shaven upper lip fully showed.
"But I've had luck, I won't deny that. There was that
case of them sharpers down in the eastern counties. It wasn't
till all others had failed that they put me on to the job. I
didn't know the chap wanted, not even by sight ; and yet I
was certain that he knew me. He'd been doing the confidence
trick with a young man of this town, and had robbed him of
over a hundred pounds. He made tracks out of the place, no
one knew where. He was a betting man, and I hunted for
him high and low, at all the racecourses of the country, but
couldn't come upon him. We were in London, last of all, and
it was rather a joke against me at Scotland Yard, where I had
been, as usual, for help. They'd ask me if I knew my man,
and I was obliged to say ' No ' ; and if I thought I knew
where to find him, and I had to say ' No ' to that too ; and
they always laughed at me whenever I turned up. I was just
about to travel homewards, when I thought I'd try one more
chance. There happened to be a sporting paper on the coffee-
room table, and I took it up. I saw two race meetings were
on for that day — Shrewsbury and Wye. I'd go for one, but
which ? I shied up a shilling, and it came down Wye. Over
we went. The course was very crowded as we drove on, and
there was a goodish lot of roughs about, up to the usual
games. A couple with a great lottery machine caught my
eye ; one was taking the money, the other turning the handle,
which ground out mostly blanks. 'Sergeant,' whispers the
young feUow to me all at once, ' that's him,' pointing to the
man who was taking the money. That was a fine stroke
of luck, sir, wasn't it ? But how was I to take him
among such a mob ? I got down, and sent the trap to
the other side ot the tents, then stepped up to my man
and asked him plump for change of a five-pound note.
He knew me directly, and showed fight. I collared him,
and moved him on towards the trap, when the roughs
138 ENGLISH DETECTIVES.
raised a cry of ' Kouse, rouse ! ' — rescue, that is, you know
— and mobbed me. I held on — never let go, sir, as I said
before, that's the motto ; but they broke two fingers in my
right hand in the shindy, and it was all I could do to force
the fellow into the trap, but I did it with my left, while I kept
off the crowd with the other arm. But I nearly lost him again
on the way, all through being a soft-hearted fool. His wife
came after us, and at the station begged hard to be allowed to
go down with us. I agreed ; what's more, I took the cuffs off
him, and let them talk together in the corner of the carriage.
They nearly sold me. It was in the tunnel, dark as
pitch, and the train making a fine rattle, when the wife
put down the window all of a sudden, and he bolted through.
I caught him by the leg, in spite of my game fingers, but only
just in time ; and after that I handcuffed him to myseK — his
wrist to mine. ' Now,' says I, ' where you go, I go.' And
that's the rule I've always followed since.
" The London police have no very high opinion of
country talent, but we beat them sometimes, all the same —
not that I want to say a word against the MetropoHtans.
They've such opportunities, and so much knowledge. Now
there was Jim Highflyer ; he'd never have been ' copped '
but for a couple of London detectives. He was a first-class
workman was Highflyer, and he once spent a long time in
this town, not in his own name. While he was here there
were no end of big burglaries, and we never could get at the
rights of them. One of the worst of the lot was a plate
robbery from a jeweller's in Queen Street. A man with a
sack had been tracked by one of the constables a long way
that night into the yard of a house, and there he was lost.
The house belonged to one of the town councillors, a most
respectable man, very free with his money, and popular. We
searched the yard next morning, and found a lot of the plate
in a dust-heap. Mr. Thicknesse — that was the town councillor's
name — gave us every assistance. It was quite plain how it
had come there. There was no suspicion against Mr. Thick-
nesse, of course; and do what we could, we couldn't pick
up the man we wanted. By-and-by the town councillor went
TWO GOOD ARRESTS. 139
away for a long spell ; the house was shut up, not let, as he
was coming back, he said, and did once or twice. After he
left the burglaries dropped, and I'd have thought very little
more about it all if it hadn't been that I heard a man, who
had been arrested for an assault, and was in shire Gaol,
had been recognised by two London detectives as a notorious
burglar, Jim Highflyer. He'd got a knife upon him, and the
name of the maker was a cutler in this town ; also a silver
pencil-case, with the name of the jeweller in Queen Street.
I went over to the gaol, and identified the man at once. It
was the town councillor himself, Mr. Thicknesse. We
searched his house here after that, and found it crammed full
of stolen goods. You see, there it was the Metropolitans did
the job. Highflyer would have got off with a few weeks for
the assault, but they knew him and all about him. He was
• wanted ' just then for several other affairs, and ours helped
to swell the case. He got ten years, did Master Jim.
'' But the neatest and about the longest job I ever was
concerned in was young Mr. Burbidge's case, and that I did
in London without any help from the London police. He
was in the theatrical profession ; a smart young chap, greatly
trusted by his manager, who employed him as a confidential
secretary, and allowed him to keep the accounts and all the
cash. No one checked one or counted t'other. One fine
morning he went off' with a big sum. He'd been to the bank
and drawn a cheque to pay the weekly wages ; but he bolted
instead, leaving the treasury empty and the whole company
whistling for their ' screws.' The manager was half mad, and
he came at once to the police. The chief sent for me. ' It's
a bad business, thoroughly bad, and we must get him,' he
said. 'Spare no pains — spend what money you like, only
catch him, if you can.' In jobs of this sort, sir, time goes a
long way. Burbidge had got a good start, several hours or
more ; it was no use my rushing off" after him in a hurry,
particularly as I did not know which way to rush. So I
set myself to think a little before I commenced work. The
' swag ' stolen was large. The thief would probably try to make
tracks out of the country as soon as he could; but which
140 ENGLISH DETECTIVES.
way? To Liverpool, perhaps, and by one of the ocean
steamers to the States ; or to Hull, and so to Sweden and
Norway ; or London, and so to France and Spain. I sent one
of my men to the railway station to make inquiries, and
another to wire to the police at the ports and to Scotland
Yard to watch the Continental trains. The job I kept for
myself was to find out what I could about young Burbidge's
ways — who his friends were, and how he spent his time. It's
the only way to get a line on a man who's made off in a
hurry and left no clue. So I called at his rooms. He lived
in comfortable apartments over a tobacconist's, and was a
good customer to his landlord, to judge by the number of
pipes I saw over the mantelpiece, all of which were as well
coloured as a black-and-tan. The rooms were just as he left
them — he might really have been coming back in half-an-
hour, only he didn't quite intend to, not of his own accord.
The chest of drawers was full of clothes ; there were boots
already polished ; brush and comb on the dressing-table. In
the sitting-room the slippers were on the hearth, books,
acting-plays lying on the sofa and about the floor ; a writing-
desk, but not a single scrap of paper — not a letter, or an
envelope, or even an unreceipted bill. He'd made up his
mind to bolt, and he'd removed everything which might give
us the smallest notion of which way he'd gone. It was just
the same at the theatre. He'd had a sort of dressing-room
there, which he'd used as an office, with a desk in it, and
pigeon-holes and a nest of drawers. It was all left ship-shape
enough. Files of play-bills, of accounts receipted and not,
ledgers, and all that ; but not a paper of the kind I looked
for. I made a pretty close search, too. I took every piece of
furniture bit by bit, and turned over every scrap of stuff with
writing on it or without. I forced every lock, and ransacked
every hiding-place, but I got nothing anywhere for my pains.
The manager was with me all the time, and he didn't half
like it, I can tell you. Nor more did I, although I wouldn't
for worlds show that I was vexed. I tried to keep him up,
saying it'd come all right — that patience in these things never
failed in the long run ; and I got him to talk about the young
THE OABTE BE VISITE. 141
chap, to see if I could come upon his habits that way. ' Who
were his friends, now ? ' I asked. ' He'd none in particular —
not in the company, at least, or out of it.' ' Ah ! who might
this be ? ' I said quietly, as I drew out of the blotting-paper
a photograph of a young lady : a fair-haired little bit of a
thing, with a pretty, rather modest, face, which I felt I should
know again.
" The carte de visite had the photographer's name on it, and
his address, that of a good street. This was my line, of course.
I made up my mind to follow on to London at once. Then
one of my men came in to say that Burbidge had been seen
taking a ticket — to London ? No ; only to Shrivelsby — a long
way short of it. It was some game, 1 felt certain. He might
have gone to London, and paid excess fare ; but I wired to
Shrivelsby, and also to town. No one like him had been seen
at Shrivelsby ; he hadn't got out there, that was clear. Only
one person did, and it wasn't him ; at least the person did not
answer to his description. It was only a man in a working-
suit — a mechanic on the look-out for work. Nor had he been
seen at Euston ; but that was a big place, and he might easily
have been missed. So I started for London at once, taking
the photograph and another of Burbidge, whom I had never
seen in my life. It is not difficult to hunt out who owns to
a carte de visite, particularly when the portrait's that of a
theatrical. I found the person who answered fast enough,
directly I went into the photographer's place. There was
a likeness of her in his album, in the very same dress, and her
name to it. Miss Jessie Junniper. I soon found out more too.
Before night I knew that she was playing at the Royal
Roscius, and that she lived in a street of little villas down
Hammersmith way. I took lodgings myself in the house just
opposite, and set up a close watch. In the morning, early.
Miss Jessie came out, and I followed her to the Underground
Railway. She took a ticket for the Temple Station. So did
I, and I tracked her down to the theatre. Rehearsal, of
course. Three hours passed before she came out again. Then
a man met her at the stage door, a very old gentleman, who
leant on a stick, and seemed very humpty-backed and bent.
142 ENGLISH DETECTIVES.
They went down the Strand together to Allen's, the great
trunk-maker, and through the windows I saw them buy a
couple of those big trunks, baskets covered with black leather,
such as ladies take on their travels. ' 'Um,' thought I, ' she's
on the flit.'
" I was only just in time. Then they went down to
Charing Cross Station, and so back to Hammersmith. The
old gentleman went into the house with Miss Junniper,
and stayed an hour or two, and then took his leave.
Next day Miss Junniper did not go out. The boxes
arrived, and towards midday an oldish lady — a middle-aged,
poorly-dressed, shabby-genteel lady — called and stayed several
hours. But no Burbidge, and nobody at all like him. I
began to feel disappointed. The third day Miss Junniper
went out again to rehearsal ; the old gentleman met her as
before, and the two drove this time in a cab to the City.
I followed them to Leadenhall-street, where they went into
the ofi&ces of the White Star Line. I did not go upstairs with
them, and somehow I lost them when they came out. I ought
to have guessed then what I did not think of till late that
night. Of course the old gentleman was Burbidge himself.
He was an actor, and a nipper, therefore, at disguises. He'd
been play-acting all along. He was the mechanic at Shrivelsby,
the shabby-genteel old lady, and the old man most of all. I
won't tell you how I cursed myself for not thinking of this
sooner. It was almost too late when I did. My gent, had left
the villa (to which they had returned), and he did not come
back next day, nor yet the day after ; and I was nearly wild
with the chance I'd lost. He'd got ' the office,' that's what
I thought, and I was up a tree. But the third day came
a telegram for the young lady. I saw the boy deliver it and
go off, as though there was no answer. Then she came out,
and I followed her to the telegraph-office. I saw her write
her message and send it off. I'd have given pounds to read
it, but I couldn't manage it ; the clerk — it's their duty —
wouldn't let me. I was countered again, and I was almost
beat, and thinking of writing home to say so, when I saw Miss
Junniper's message in the compartment where she had been
ALLAN PINEEBTON. 143
writing. She'd done it with a hard pencil, which showed
through. There was the address as plain as ninepence — no
mystery or circumlocution — ' Burbidge, King's Head Hotel,
Kingston.' I was there same evening, just before his dinner.
I asked if Mr. Burbridge was here. Sure enough. He wasn't
a bit afraid of being took, I suppose, so far off the line of
pursuit, so he'd stuck to his own name, and was not even dis-
guised. He gave in without a word. The tickets were on him,
and in his bag upstairs a lot of the cash he'd stolen ; hke-
wise a wardrobe of clothes — the old gentleman's suit, and all
the rest."
Our American cousins are no doubt well served by
their poHce, but private agents do much of the business
of pursuit and detection, and of these semi-official aids to
justice one firm has gained a world-wide celebrity. Some
account of the chief and first of the Pinkertons may be
introduced here.
Allan Pinkerton began life as a cooper, and was doing a
thriving business at Dundee, some 38 mUes north-west of
Chicago, about 1847. The times were primitive ; barter took
the place of cash payments in the absence of a currency
and circulating medium. To remedy this inconvenience, a
bank was started in Milwaukee, which throve and had many
branches, doing such a good business that its notes passed
everywhere, and were extensively counterfeited. A gang of
these forgers had been discovered by Allan Pinkerton on
a small island in the Fox River near Dundee. Wanting poles
and staves for his trade, he had gone to cut them in the
woods, when he came upon the embers of camp-fires, and signs
that the island was secretly frequented by tramps and others.
Pinkerton informed the sheriff', and active steps were taken by
which a large confederacy of horse thieves, " cover-men," and
counterfeiters were broken up.
The trade still flourished, however, and some of the
reputable citizens of Dundee begged Allan Pinkerton to do
further service to his town in trying to check it. A suspicious
stranger had just come to Dundee, asking for " old man "
Crane ; this Crane was known as a " hard character," the
144 ENGLISH DETECTIVES.
associate of thieyes and evil-doers, and an agent, it was
thought, for the distribution of bogus notes. The villagers
generally gave him a wide berth, and when the counterfeit
money reappeared in the' shape of many forged ten-dollar bills,
this old man Crane was credited with being the centre of the
traffic. Any friend or acquaintance of his came equally under
suspicion, and Allan Pinkerton was set to discover what he
could about this new arrival. He proved to be a hale, strong
man, advanced in years, who rode a splendid horse. Pinker-
ton found him waiting at the saddler's, where some repairs
were being made to his saddle, and easily got into con-
versation with him. The stranger wanted to know where old
man Crane lived, and when informed, casually mentioned that
he had often some business with him. Pinkerton seemed
to understand, and the other suddenly asked, "Do you
ever deal, any ? " " Yes, when I can get a first-rate article,"
promptly replied Pinkerton. ^^Tiereupon the stranger said
he had some that were " bang up," and pulled out a bundle
of notes, which he handed over to Pinkerton's inspection,
believing him to be a " square man."
The stranger proved to be one John Craig, who had long
been engaged with a nephew. Smith, at Elgin, in the fabrica-
tion of false notes. Pinkerton said afterwards that he had
never seen anything more perfect than these spurious notes ;
they were exactly imitated almost without a flaw. They- were
indeed so good that they even passed muster at the bank
on which they were counterfeited, and were received over the
counter, and had been paid in and out more than once with-
out discovery. Craig, who appears to have been a singularly
confiding person, went on to tell Pinkerton, of whom he knew
nothing, that old man Crane had once acted extensively
for him, but was now slackening off, and that a new and more
enterprising agent was much required. Then he offered
Pinkerton the job to work the entire " western field," and that
he could supply him with from 500 to 1,000 forged biUs, for
which he need only pay 25 per cent, of their face value.
Pinkerton agreed to these terms; he was to raise the
necessary cash and meet Craig by appointment in Elgin, the
CAPTURES BANK-NOTE FOBGEB. 145
place of rendezvous being the basement of the Baptist chapel.
Craig said that he never carried any large quantity of the
notes about with him; it was too dangerous. His regular
place of residence, too, was near the Canadian frontier at
Fairfield, Vermont, whence he could quickly make tracks if
threatened with capture. He kept two engravers of his own
constantly employed in counterfeiting and printing; he
showed Pinkerton other samples and seemingly gave himself
quite away. After this, they parted in Dundee, but the
" trade " was soon afterwards completed in Elgin town.
Pinkerton proceeded on foot, taking with him the necessary
cash provided by his friends in Dundee. He met his new
confederates in the Baptist chapel and received the forged
bills in exchange for the good money.
Allan Pinkerton, in telling this story, frankly admits that
he was sorely tempted to take up the nefarious traffic. He
had in his hand a thousand ten-dollar notes, representing a
couple of thousand pounds — spurious money, no doubt, but so
admirably counterfeited that they were almost as good as
gold. He would have had no difficulty in passing them, and
with this capital he might lay the foundation of his fortune.
Pinkerton put aside the evil thought, but he never forgot how
nearly he had yielded, and always sympathised with those
who had been tempted into crime.
This was only a passing weakness successfully resisted,
and Pinkerton now lent all his energies to securing the arrest
of Craig. Appointing to meet him again, he offered to buy
him out and take over his whole business. If Craig would
only give him time to raise the necessary funds, he would
carry on the concern on large lines. Craig had no objection,
and promised to furnish Pinkerton with a full stock-in-trade.
Another appointment was made for a few days later in a
Chicago hotel, and now Pinkerton arranged for Craig's cap-
ture. A warrant was obtained and the services of a couple of
officers. Craig came, and the pair entered into business at
once. Craig was ready with four thousand bills and would
deliver them within an hour ; but Pinkerton objected, and
would not hand over the cash without seeing the bills. Craig
146 ENGLISH DETECTIVES.
resented this, and, becoming distrustful, broke up the con-
ference, but on going out he told Pinkerton he would think
the matter over and see him by-and-by.
Craig did in fact return, but when Pinkerton asked him if
he meant to complete the bargain, he denied all knowledge
of it, and, indeed, of Pinkerton. Nothing was to be gained
by delay, and the officers at once arrested Craig, who was
taken to a room in the hotel and searched. But not a dollar
in counterfeit money was found upon him, and when taken
before the magistrate he was released on bail. He appears to
have used his money freely in obtaining this, and soon bolted,
gladly forfeiting his recognisances rather than face a severer
punishment. His disappearance cleared the neighbourhood
of counterfeiters for some years.
It can hardly be said that Allan Pinkerton showed any
marvellous acumen in this detection. But it was a first
attempt, and it was soon followed by more startling ad-
ventures.
A special product of modern times is the private in-
quiry agent, so much employed nowadays, whose ingenuity,
patient pertinacity, and determination to succeed have been
usefully engaged in unravelling intricate problems, verging
upon, if not actually included within, the realm of crime. I
knew one who was employed by a famous firm of soHcitors in
a very delicate operation, which he terminated successfully,
but in a way to show that he did not stick at trifles in
securing his end. It was the sequel to a divorce case. The
decree nisi had been granted, and against the wife, who had
been refused the custody of the one child born of the
marriage. The husband was anxious to secure possession of
the child, but the ex-wife, hke so many more of her sex, was
much too sharp to be forestalled. She had a friend waiting
at the court who, directly the decree was pronounced, started
off in a hansom to the lady's residence, where the child was,
laid hands on it, and brought it down to Victoria Station just
in time for the night mail to the Continent, by which lady
and child travelled together to the south of France. A
detective was at once despatched in pursuit by the husband's
PRIVATE INQUIRY. 14T
lawyer, and his orders were at all costs to recover possession
of the child. He soon got upon the lady's track. She had
not gone lurther than Monte Carlo. The detective found it
impossible to kidnap the child, so he managed to make
friends with the mother, gradually grew very intimate, paid
her devoted attention, and eventually married her. When he
was her husband he had no difficulty in completing his
commission, and — possibly with the lady's full consent — he
soon sent the child home. I never heard how his marriage —
aU in the way of business — turned out.
Another story is, perhaps, more dramatic. A man of con-
siderable property, strictly entailed, who was married, died
childless in India. The estates went to the next-of-kin, but
he, just as he was entering into their enjoyment, was startled
by a telegram from his relative's widow, preparing him for
the birth of a posthumous child. He at once consulted his
lawyer, who, after warning him that much time and money
would probably be spent in the process, promised to expose
the fraud, if fraud there was, or, at any rate, prove that it was
a bond-fide affair.
A year passed, and yet the next-of-kin had heard nothing
of the case. At last he went to his lawyers and insisted
upon knowing how it stood. He was told that the matter
was now ripe ; the lady had arrived with her infant son.
She was actually at that moment at a private hotel in the
West End.
" Go and call on her, and insist upon seeing the child.
If there's any dif&culty about it, go out on the landing and
call out ' Bartlett ! ' A man wiU come down and explain
everything."
'The lady did not produce the child when asked ; she said
it was out in the park with the nurse, and tried all sorts of
excuses, so Bartlett was summoned.
" I want to see the chdd," says the next-of-kin.
" This lady's ? She has no child. I have been with her
now for six months, and she has asked me repeatedly to get
her one — anywhere, in Cairo, at the Foundling in Malta, here
in London."
148 ENGLISH BETECTIVE8.
" Who are you, tlien ? " both inquired, astonished beyond
measure.
And "Bartlett," having completed his mission, quietly
informed the lady, whom he had been watching, and the
next-of-kin, who was reaUy his employer, that he was the
detective engaged to unravel the case.
With such men as this, long-continued fraud, however
astutely prepared, becomes almost impossible. The private
inquiry agent is generally equal to any emergency.
I can remember another story — it shall be the last — of a
detective, crossing on a Channel steamer to France, when he
ran up against the very person he was intended to watch in
Paris. It was of the utmost importance that this person
should not realise the detective's mission, who, by the way,
was perfectly well known to him. Before the steamer reached
Calais the detective had persuaded the other to give him
a job in Paris, as though he had had no idea of going there,
a job which would enable him, moreover, to carry out all the
better the original mission on which he had been despatched.
part 55*
JUDICIAL EEEORS.
CHAPTER VI.
WRONGFUL CONVICTIONS.
Judge Cambo, of Malta, passes Sentence of Death, declining Evidence of his
own Eyes — The D'Anglades, a French Marquis and his wife, wrongly
convicted of Theft — The Lady Mazel murdered : Crime fixed on trusted
Servant, but in Error — William Shaw executed by Mistake for murdering
his Daughter — The SaUmaker of Deal and the alleged Murder of a Boat-
swain : latter comes to Life — Du Moulin, the Victim of a Gang of Coiners,
narrowly escaped Death — The Case of Jean Galas, of Toxilouse, falsely
accused of Parricide, sentenced to Death, tortured, and broken on the
"Wheel : Indignation throughout Europe.
THE criminal annals of all countries record cases of
innocent persons condemned by judicial process on
grounds tliat seemed sufficient at the time, but that ulti-
mately proved mistaken. Where circumstantial evidence is
alone forthcoming, terrible errors have been committed, and
when, later, new facts are brought to light, the mischief
has been done. There is a family likeness in these causes of
judicial mistake: strong personal resemblance between the
real criminal and another ; strangely suspicious facts confirming
a first strong conjecture, such as having been seen near
the scene of the crime, having let drop incautious words,
being found with articles the possession of which has been
misinterpreted or given a wrong impression. Often a sudden
accusation has produced confusion, and consequently a strong
presumption of guilt; another time, the accused, although
perfectly iunocent, has been weak enough to invent a false
defence, as in the case quoted by Sir Edward Cope of a man
charged with killing his niece. The accused put forward
150 WRONGFUL OONVIGTIONS.
another niece in place of the victim to show that the alleged
murder had never taken place. The trick was discovered, his
guilt was assumed, and he paid the penalty with his life.
On the other hand, the deliberate cunning of the real criminal
has succeeded but too often in shifting the blame with every
appearance of probabiHty upon other shoulders.
JUDGE CAMBO OF MALTA.
A curious old story of judicial murder, caused by the
infatuation of a judge, is to be found in the annals of
Malta, when under the Knights, early last century. This
judge, Cambo by name, having risen early one morning heard
an affray in the street, just under his window. Looking out,
he saw one man stab another. The wounded man, who had
been flying for his life, reeled and fell. At this moment the
assassin's cap came off, and his face was for a moment
fully exposed to the jvidge above. Then, picking the cap
up quickly, he ran on, throwing away the sheath of his
knife, and turning into another street, made off.
While still doubtful how he should act, the judge now saw
a baker, carrj-ing his loaves for distribution, approach the
scene of the murder. Before he reached the place where the
corpse lay, he saw the sheath of the stiletto, picked it up, and
put it into his pocket. Walking on, he came next upon the
corpse. Terrified at the sight, and losing all self-control, he
ran and hid himself lest he should be charged with the crime.
But at that moment a police patrol entered the street, and
saw him disappearing just as they came upon the body of the
murdered man. They naturally concluded that the fugitive
was the criminal, and made close search for him. When they
presently caught him, they found him confused and in-
coherent, a prey to misgiving at the suspicious position in
which he found himself He was searched, and the sheath of
the stiletto was discovered in his pocket. When tried, it was
found that the sheath exactly fitted the knife lying by the
side of the corpse. He was accordingly taken into custody
and carried off to prison.
All this went on under the eyes of the judge, yet he never
JUDGE CAMBO. 151
interposed to protect an innocent man. The police came soon,
and reported both murder and arrest ; still he said nothing.
He was at the time the presiding judge in the criminal court,
and it was before him that the wretched baker was eventually
tried. Cambo was a dull, stupid person, and he now conceived
that he was forbidden to act from his own private knowledge
in the matter brought before him, that he must deal with
the case according to the evidence of the witnesses. So he sat
on his bench to hear the circumstantial proofs against a man
whom he had no sort of doubt was actually innocent. When
he saw that the evidence was insufficient, amounting to no
more than sevii prova, half-proof, according to Maltese law,
he used every endeavour to make the accused confess his
crime. Failing in this, although there was no crime, he
ordered the baker to be " put to the question," and achieved
the extraordinary result that the man, under torture, confessed
to what he had not done. Cambo was now perfectly satisfied ;
the accused, innocent in fact, was guilty according to law, and
having thus satisfied himself that his procedure was right, he
carried his strange logic to the end, and sentenced the baker to
death. " Horrible to relate," says the old chronicle, " the hap-
less wretch soon after underwent the sentence of the law."
The sad truth came out at last, when the real murderer,
having been convicted and condemned for another crime, con-
fessed that he was guilty of the murder for which the baker
had wrongly suffered. He appealed to Judge Cambo himself
to verify this statement. He knew that the j udge had seen him,
for as he was plunging his knife into his victim's body he had
caught a glimpse of the one witness in the window above.
He remembered, too, that his cap had fallen off and must have
betrayed his features to the judge. He had no hope of
escaping justice until the arrest and trial of the unfortunate
baker had occurred. Why the judge had suppressed the real
facts had been always incomprehensible to the true culprit.
The Grand Master of the Knights of Malta now called
upon Judge Cambo to defend himself from this grave imputa-
tion. Cambo freely admitted his action, but still held that he
had only done his duty, that he was really right in sending an
152 WRONGFUL CONVICTIONS.
innocent man to an ignominious death sooner than do violence
to his own scruples. There was no other witness in the
prisoner's favour, and he maintained that it was not within
his own province to speak for him. The Grand Master was
of a more liberal mind, and condemned the judge to degrada-
tion and the forfeiture of his office, ordering him at the same
time to provide handsomely for the family of his victim.
THE D'ANGLADES.
A very flagrant judicial error was committed in Paris
at the latter end of last century, mainly through the obstinate
persistence of the Lieutenant-General of Police in believing
that he had discovered the real perpetrators of a theft. Cir-
cumstantial evidence was accepted as conclusive proof against
the unblemished character and the high social position of the
accused.
The Marquis d'Anglade and his wife lived in the same
house with the Comte and Comtesse de Montgomerie ; it was
in the Eue Koyale, the best quarter in Paris, and both kept
good estabUshments. The Montgomeries were the more
affluent, had many servants, and a stable full of horses and
carriages. D'Anglade also kept a carriage, but his income
was said to be greatly dependent upon his winnings at the
gaming table. The two families were on terms of very
friendly intercourse, frequently visited, and accepted each
other's hospitality. When the Comte and Comtesse went
to their country house, the D'Anglades often accompanied
them.
It was to have been so on one occasion, but at the eleventh
hour the Marquis d'Anglade begged to be excused on the
score of his wife's indisposition. The Montgomeries went
alone, but took most of their servants with them. When
they returned to Paris, a day earlier than they were expected,
they found the door of the apartment open, although it had
been locked on leaving. A little later D'Anglade came in.
Having been supping with other friends, and hearing that
the Montgomeries were in the house, he went in to pay
his respects. Madame d'Anglade joined him, and the party
THE B'ANGLADES. 153
did not break up till a late hour. There was no suspicion
of anything wrong then.
Next morning, however, the Comte de Montgomerie dis-
covered that he had been the victim of a great robbery. His
strong box had been opened by a false key, and thirteen bags
of silver, amounting to 13,000 francs, and 11,000 francs
in gold, had been abstracted, also a hundred louis d'or of
a new pattern coinage, and a valuable pearl necklace. The
poHce were summoned at once, and their chief, the Lieutenant-
General, declared that someone resident in the house
must be the thief. Suspicion seems to have attached
at once to the D'Anglades, although they readily offered
to allow their premises to be searched. The search was
forthwith made, and the whole of their boxes, the beds and
cupboards, and all receptacles in the rooms they occupied,
were thoroughly ransacked. Only the garrets remained, and
D'Anglade willingly accompanied the officers thither. His
wife, being Ul and weak, remained downstairs.
Here, in the garret, the searchers came upon 76 louis d'or
of the kind above mentioned, wrapped in a scrap of printed
paper, part of a genealogical table, which Montgomerie at
once identified as his. The police now wished to fix the
robbery on the D'Anglades, and their suspicions were
strengthened by the poor man's confusion, when desired,
as a test, to count out the money before them all: He
was trembling, a further symptom of guilt. However, when
the basement was next examined, the part occupied by
the Montgomerie servants, evidence much more incrimina-
tory was obtained against the latter. In the room where
they slept, five of the missing bags of silver were found,
all full, and a sixth nearly so. None of these servants were
questioned, yet they were as likely to be guilty as the
accused, more so indeed, and as a matter of fact, one of them
was really the thief The police thought only of arresting
the D'Anglades, one of whom was imprisoned in the ch^telet,
the other in the Fors I'EvSque prison.
The prosecution was of the most rancorous and pitiless
kind. Justice, or rather the parody of it, prejudiced the case
151 WRONGFUL 00NV10TI0N8.
in D'Anglade's disfavour, and, as he still protested his inno-
cence, ordered him to suffer torture so as to extort confession.
He remained obdurate to the last, was presently found
guilty, although on this incomplete evidence, and was
sentenced to the galleys for life, and his wife to be banished
from Paris, with other penalties and disabilities. D'Anglade
was condemned to join the chaine, the gang of convicts
drafted to Toulon, and, having suffered inconceivably on
the road, he died of exhaustion at Marseilles. His wife
was consigned to an underground dungeon, where she was
confined of a girl, and both would have succumbed to the
rigours of their imprisonment, when suddenly the truth came
out, and they were released in time to escape death.
An anonymous letter reached a friend of the D'Anglades,
coming from a man who was about to turn monk, being torn
by remorse, which gave him no rest. This man had been one
of several confederates, and declared that he knew th« chief
agent to have been the Comte de Montgomerie's almoner, a
priest called Gajmard, who had stolen the money, aided by
accomplices, mainly by one Belestre, who, from being in great
indigence, had come to be suddenly and mysteriously rich.
Gaynard and Belestre were both already in custody for a street
brawl, and, when interrogated, they confessed. Gaynard had
given impressions of the Comte's keys to Belestre, who had
had false keys manufactured which opened the strong box
Belestre was also proved to be in possession of a fine pearl
necklace.
The true criminals were now taken into custody and sub-
jected to torture, when they completely exonerated D'Anglade.
The innocent marquis could not be recalled to life, but a
large sum was subscribed, some £4,000, for his wife, as a
slight compensation for the gross injustice done her. The
Comte de Montgomerie was also ordered to make restitution
to the value of the property confiscated.
LADY MAZEL.
One of the earliest of grave judicial blunders to be
found in French records is commonly called the case
LADT MAZEL. 155
of Lady Mazel, who was a lady of rank, living in a large
mansion, of wMch she occupied two floors herself : the ground
floor as reception-rooms, the first floor as her bedroom and
private apartments. The principal door of her bedroom
shut from the inside with a spring, and when the lady retired
for the night there was no access from without, except by a
special key which was always left on a chair within the
chamber. Two other doors of her room opened upon a
back staircase, but these were kept constantly locked. On
the second floor was lodged the family chaplain alone ; above,
on the third floor, were the servants.
One Sunday evening the mistress supped with the abbe,
as was her general practice ; then went to her bedroom, where
she was attended by her waiting maids. Her valet, by name
Le Brun, came to take her orders for the following day, and
then, when the maids withdrew, leaving the key on the chair
inside as usual, he also went away, shutting the door behind
him with its spring.
Next morning there was no sign of movement from the
lady, not at seven a.m. (her time for waking), nor yet at eight
— she was still silent, and had not summoned her servants.
Le Brun, the valet, and the maids began to be uneasy, and at
last the son of the house, who was married and lived elsewhere,
was called in. He expressed his fears that his mother was
iU, or that worse had happened, and a locksmith was called in,
by whom the door was presently broken open.
Le Brun was the first to enter, and he ran at once to the
bedside. Drawing aside the curtains, he saw a sight which
made him cry aloud, "My mistress has been murdered!"
which he followed by an act that afterwards went against him.
He opened the wardrobe and took out the strong box. " It is
heavy," he said ; " at least there has been no robbery."
The murder had been committed with horrible violence. The
poor woman had fought hard for life. She could not summon
assistance, for the bell-pull had first been twisted round the
mattress, but she had struggled with her murderer ; her hands
were all cut and lacerated, and there were quite fifty wounds
on her body. A clasp knife, much discoloured, was found in the
156 WRONGFUL GONVIGTIONS.
ashes of the fire. Among the bedclothes they picked up a
piece of a coarse lace cravat and a napkin bearing the family
crest twisted into a nightcap. The key of the bedroom door
which had been laid on the chair had disappeared. Nothing
much had been stolen. The jewels were untouched, but the
strong box had been opened and a portion of gold abstracted.
Suspicion fell at once upon the valet, Le Brun. The story
he told was against himself. He said that after leaving his
mistress he went down into the kitchen and fell asleep there.
When he awoke he found, to his surprise, the street door
open wide. He shut it, locked it, and went to his own bed. In
the morning he did his work as usual until the alarm was
given ; went to market, called to see his wife who lived near by,
and asked her to lock up some money, gold crowns and louis
d'or, for him. This was all he had to tell, but on searching him
a key was found in his pocket: a false or skeleton key, the wards
of which had been newly filed, and it fitted nearly all the
locks of the house, including the street door, the antechamber,
and the back door of the lad3''s bedroom. The napkin night-
cap was tried on his head and fitted him exactly. He was
arrested and shortly afterwards put upon his trial.
It was not alleged that he had committed murder himself
No blood' had been found on any of his clothes, although there
were scratches on his person, as there might have been,
seeing how fiercely the lady had struggled. A shirt much
stained with blood had been discovered in the loft, but it
did not fit Le Brun, nor was it Uke any he owned. Nor did
the scrap of coarse lace correspond with any of his cravats ;
on the contrary, a maid-servant stated that she thought she
recognised it as belonging to one she had washed for Berry,
once a footman in the house. The supposition was that Le
Brun had let some accomplice into the house, who had
escaped after effecting his purpose. This was borne out by
the state of the doors, which showed no signs of having
been forced, and by the discovery of Le Brun's false key.
Le Brun was a man of exemplary character, who had
served the family faithfully for twenty-nine years, and was
" esteemed a good husband, a good father, and a good servant,"
THE REAL CULPRIT. 157
yet the prosecution seemed satisfied he was guilty and put
him to the torture. In the absence of real proofs it was
hoped, after the cruel custom of the time, to force self-
condemnatory admissions from the accused. The "question
extraordinary " was applied, and the wretched man died on
the rack, protesting his innocence to the last.
A month later the real culprit was discovered. The
police of Sens had arrested a horse-dealer whose name was
Berry, a man who had been in Lady Mazel's service as a
lacquey, but had been discharged. In his possession was a
gold watch proved presently to have belonged to the murdered
woman. He was carried to Paris, where he was recognised by
someone who had seen him leaving Lady Mazel's house on the
night she was murdered, and a barber who shaved him next
morning deposed to having seen that his hands were much
scratched. Berry said that he had been kUling a cat.
He was also put to the torture prior to being broken
on the wheel, when he made full confession. At first he
implicated the son and daughter-in-law of Lady Mazel, but
when at the point of death he retracted the charge, and
said that he had returned to the house with the full inten-
tion of committing the murder. He had crept in un-
perceived on the Friday evening, had gained the loft on
the fourth floor, and had lain there concealed until Sunday
morning, subsisting the while on apples and bread.
When he knew the mistress had gone to mass he stole
down into her bedroom, where he tried to conceal him-
self under the bed. It was too low, and he returned to
the garret and slipped off his coat and waistcoat, and found
now that he could creep under the bed. His hat was in his
way, so he made a cap of the napkin. He lay hidden tUl
night, then came out, and having secured the bell ropes, he
roused the lady and demanded her money. She resisted
bravely, and he stabbed her repeatedly until she was dead.
Then he took the key of the strong box, opened it, and stole
all the gold he could find ; after which, using the bedroom key
which lay on the chair by the door, he let himself out, resumed
his clothes in the loft, and walked downstairs. As the street
158 WRONGFUL OONVIGTIONS.
door was only bolted he easily opened it, leaving it open
behind him. He had meant to escape by a rope ladder which
he had brought for the purpose of letting himself down from
the first floor, but it was unnecessary.
It may be remarked that this confession was not
inconsistent with Le Brun's complicity. But it is to be
presumed that Berry would have brought in Le Brun had
he been a confederate, even although it could not have
lessened his own guilt.
WILLIAM SHAW.
In England we have on record the case of William
Shaw, who was convicted of the murder of his daughter
in Edinburgh on no more grounds than her own outcry
against his ill-usage. They had been on bad terms for
some time, his daughter having encouraged the addresses
of a man whom he strongly disliked as a profligate and a
debauchee. One evening there was a fresh quarrel between
father and daughter, and bitter words passed which were
overheard by a neighbour. The Shaws occupied one of the
tenement houses to be seen still in Edinburgh, and their flat,
the prototype of a modern popular form of residence in Paris
and London, adjoined that of a man named Morrison.
The words used by Catherine Shaw startled and shocked
Morrison. He heard her repeat several times, " Cruel father,
thou art the cause of my death." These were followed by
awful groans. Shaw had been heard to go out, and the
neighbours ran to his door demanding admittance. As no
one opened and all was now silent within, a constable
was called to force an entrance, and the girl was found
weltering in blood with a knife by her side. She was
questioned as to the words overheard, was asked if her
father had kiUed her, and she was just able to nod her
head in the aflSrmative, as it seemed.
Now William Shaw returned. AH eyes were upon him ;
he turned pale at meeting the police and others in his
apartment, then trembled violently as he saw his daughter's
dead body. Such manifest signs of his guilt fully
corroborated the deceased's incriminating words. Last of
WILLIAM SHAW. 159
all, it was noticed with horror that there was blood on
his hands and on his shirt. He was taken before a magistrate
at once, and committed for trial. The circumstances were all
against him. He admitted in his defence the quarrel and
gave the reason, but declared that he had gone out that
evening, leaving his daughter unharmed; that her death
could only be attributed to suicide. He explained the blood
stains by showing that he had been bled some days before
and that the bandage had become untied. The prosecution
rested on the plain facts, mainly on the girl's words, " Cruel
father, thou art the cause of my death," and her implied
accusation at her last moments.
Shaw was duly convicted, sentenced, and executed at
Leith Walk in November, 1721, with the full approval of
public opinion. Yet the innocence which he still maintained
on the scaffold came out clearly the followiag year. The
tenant who came into occupation of Shaw's flat came by
accident upon a paper which slipped down in an opening near
the chimney. It was a letter written by Catherine Shaw, as
was positively affirmed by experts in handwriting, and it was
addressed to her father, upbraiding him with his barbarity.
She was so hopeless of marrying him whom she loved, so deter-
mined not to accept the man her father would have forced
upon her, that she had decided to put an end to the existence
which had become a burthen to her. " My death," she went
on, " I lay to your charge. When you read this consider
yourself as the inhuman -wretch that plunged the knife into
the bosom of the unhappy Catherine Shaw."
This letter, on which there was much comment, came
at last into the hands of the authorities, who, having satisfied
themselves it was authentic, ordered the body of Shaw to be
taken down from the gibbet where it still hung in chains and
to be decently interred. As a further but somewhat empty
reparation of his honour, a pair of colours was waved over
his grave.
THE SAILMAKER.
A still more curious story is that of the young sailmaker
who went to spend Christmas with his mother near Deal.
160 WRONGFUL CONVICTIONS.
On Ms way lie passed a night at an inn in Deal, and shared
a bed with the landlady's uncle, the boatswain of an India-
man, who had just come ashore. In the morning the uncle
was missing, the bed was saturated with blood, and the young
sailmaker had disappeared. The bloodstains were soon traced
through the house, and beyond, as far as the pier-head. It
was naturally concluded that the boatswain had been murdered
and his body thrown into the sea. A hue and cry was at
once set up for the young man, who was arrested the same
evening in his mother's house.
He was taken red-handed, with ample proofs of his guilt
upon him. His clothes were stained with blood; in his
pockets were a knife and a strange sUver coin, both of which
were sworn to most positively as the property of the missing
boatswain. The evidence was so conclusive that no credence
could be given to the prisoner's defence, which was ingenious
but most improbable. His story was that he woke in the
night and asked the boatswain the way to the garden, that he
could not open the back-door, and borrowed his companion's
clasp-knife to lift the latch. When he returned to bed the
boatswain was gone ; why or where he had no idea.
The youth was convicted and sent to the gallows, but by
strange fortune he escaped death. The hanging was done so
imperfectly that his feet touched the ground, and when taken
down he was soon resuscitated by his friends. They made
him leave as soon as he could move, and he went down to
Portsmouth, where he engaged on board a man-of-war about
to start for a foreign station. On his return from the West
Indies three years later to be paid off, he had gained the
rating of a master's mate, and gladly took service on another
ship. The first person he met on board was the boatswain
he was supposed to have murdered !
The explanation given was sufi&ciently strange. On the day
of his supposed murder the boatswain had been bled by a barber
for a pain in the side. During the absence of his bedfellow the
bandage had come off his arm, which bled copiously, and he
got up hurriedly to go in search of the barber. The moment
he got into the street he was seized by a press-gang and
BBUNELL. 181
carried off to the pier. There a man-of-war's boat was in
waiting, and he was taken off to a ship in the Downs, which
sailed directly for the East Indies. He never thought of
communicating with his friends ; letter-writing was not much
indulged in at that period.
Doubts have been thrown upon this story, which rests
mainly upon local tradition, although it made much noise
at the time in Kent. As no body was found it does not seem
probable that there would be a conviction for murder. Of the
various circumstances on which it was based, that of the
possession of the knife was explained, but not of the silver
coin. It has been suggested that when the sailmaker took
it out of the boatswain's pocket the coin had stuck between
the blades of the knife.
BRUNELL THE INNKEEPEK.
The astute villainy of a criminal in covering up his tracks
was never more successful than in the case of Brunell, the inn-
keeper at a village near Hull. A traveller was stopped upon
the road and robbed of a purse containing twenty guineas.
But he pursued his journey uninjured, while the highwayman
rode off in another direction.
Presently he reached the Bell Inn, kept by Brunell, to
whom he recounted his misadventure, adding that no doubt
the thief would be caught, for the stolen gold was marked,
according to his rule when travelling. Having ordered supper
in a private room, the gentleman was soon joined by the
landlord, who had heard the story, and now wished to learn
at what hour the robbery took place.
" It was just as night fell," replied the traveller.
" Then I can perhaps find the thief," said the landlord.
"I strongly suspect one of my servants, John Jennings by
name, and for the following reason. The man has been very
full of money of late. This afternoon I sent him out to change
a guinea. He brought it saying he could not get the change,
and as he was in liquor I was resolved to discharge him
to-morrow. But then I was struck with the curious fact that
the guinea was not the same as that which I had given, and
162 WRONGFUL CONVICTIONS.
that it was marked. Now I hear that those you lost were all
marked, and I am wondering whether this particular guinea
was yours."
" May I see it ? " asked the traveller.
"Unfortunately I paid it away not long since to a man
who Hves at a distance, and who has gone home. But my
servant Jennings, if he is the culprit, will probably have
others in his possession. Let us go and search him."
They went to Jennings's room and looked at his pockets.
He was in a sound drunken sleep, and they came without
difficulty upon a purse containing nineteen guineas. The
traveller recognised his purse, and identified by the mark
his guineas. The man was roused and arrested on this
seemingly conclusive evidence. He stoutly denied his guilt,
but he was sent for trial and convicted. The case was clearly
proved. Although the prosecutor could not swear to the man
himself, as the robber had been masked, he did to his guineas.
Again, the prisoner's master told the story of his substitution
of the marked for the other coin ; while the man to whom the
landlord had paid the marked guinea produced it in court.
A comparison with the rest of the money left no doubt that
these guineas were one and the same.
The unfortunate Jennings was duly sentenced to death,
and executed at Hull. Yet, within a twelvemonth, it came
out that the highwayman was Brunell himself The landlord
had been arrested on a charge of robbing one of his lodgers,
and convicted; but he feU dangerously ill before execution.
As he could not hve, he made full confession of his crimes,
including that for which Jennings had suffered.
It seemed that he had ridden sharply home after the
theft, and, finding a debtor had called, gave him one of the
guineas, not knowing they were marked. When his victim
arrived and told his story, Brunell became greatly alarmed.
Casting about for some way of escape, he decided to throw
the blame on his servant, whom he had actually sent out to
change a guinea, but who had failed, as we know, and had
brought back the same coin. As Jennings was drunk, Brunell
sent him to bed, and then easily planted the incriminating
VU MOULIN. 163
purse in the poor man's clothes. No sort of indemnity seems
to have been paid to Jennings's relations or friends.
DV motjlin's case.
Of the same class was the wrongful conviction of a French
refugee, Du Moulin, who had fled to England from the religious
persecutions in his own country. He brought a small capital
with him, which he employed in buying goods condemned at
the Custom-house and disposing of them by retail. The
business was "shady" in its way, as the goods in question
were mostly smuggled, but Du Moulin's honesty was not
impeached until he was found to be passing false gold. He
made it a frequent practice to return money paid him by his
customers, declaring it was bad. The fact could not be denied,
but the suspicion was that he had himself changed it after
the first payment ; and this happened so often that he pre-
sently got into disrepute, losing both his business and his
credit. The cHmax came when he received a sum of £78 in
guineas and Portugal gold, and "scrupled," or questioned,
several of the pieces. But he took them, giving his receipt.
In a few days he brought back six coins, which he insisted
were of base metal. His cHent Harris as positively declared
that they were not the same as those he had paid. Then
there was a fierce dispute. Du Moulin was quite certain ; he
had put the whole £78 into a drawer and left the money
there till he had to use it, ^hen part of it was at once
refused. Harris continued to protest, threatening Du Moulin
with a charge of fraud, but presently he paid. He lost no
opportunity, however, of exposing Du Moulin's conduct, doing
so so often, and so hbellously, that the other soon brought an
action for defamation of character.
This drove Harris to set the law in motion also, on his
own information, backed by the reports of others on whom
Du Moulin had forced false money. A warrant was issued
against the Frenchman, his house was searched, and in a
secret drawer all the apparatus of a counterfeiter of coin was
discovered — files, moulds, chemicals, and many implements.
This evidence was damnatory ; his guilt seemed all the more
164 WRONGFUL CONVICTIONS.
dear from the impudence with which he had assailed Harris
and his insistence in passing the bad money. Conviction
followed, and he was sentenced to death. But for a mere
accident, which brought about confession, he would certainly
have suffered, innocently.
A day or two before his execution, one Williams, a seal
engraver, was thrown from his horse and killed, whereupon
his wife fell iU, and in poignant remorse sent for Du Moulin,
to whom she told this story : —
That Williams, her husband, was one of a gang of counter-
feiters, and she helped by putting off the coins. One of them
hired himself as servant to Du Moulin, and, using a whole set
of false keys, soon became free of all drawers and receptacles
in which he planted large quantities of false money, substi-
tuting them for an equal number of good pieces.
The members of this gang were arrested and examined
separately. They altogether repudiated the charge, but the
servant was dumbfounded when some bad money was found
on searching his quarters. On this he turned king's evidence,
and his accomphces were convicted.
CALAS.
A case in which "justice" was manifestly unjust is that
of the shameful prosecution and punishment of Galas, a
judicial murder begun in wicked intolerance and carried
out with almost inconceivable cruelty.
Bitter, implacable hatred of the Protestant or Reformed
religion and all who professed it survived in the south of
France till late in the last century. There was no more
bigoted city than Toulouse, which had had its own
massacre ten years before St. Bartholomew, and perpetuated
the memory of this " deliverance," as it was called, by public
fStes on its anniversary. It was on the eve of that of 1761
that a terrible catastrophe occurred in the house of one
Jean Galas, a respectable draper, who had the misfortune
to be a heretic — in other words, a criminal, according to the
ideas of Toulouse.
Marc Antoine Galas, the eldest son of the family, was
JEAN GALAS. 165
found in a cupboard just off the shop, hangmg by the
neck, and quite dead. The shocking discovery was made
by the third brother, Pierre. It was then between nine and
ten p.m. ; he had gone downstairs with a friend who had
supped with them and had come suddenly upon the corpse.
The alarm was soon raised in the town, and the officers
of the law hastened to the spot. In Toulouse the police
was in the hands of the capitouls, functionaries akin to
the sheriffs and common councillors of a corporation, and
one of the leading men among them just then was a certain
David de Beaudrigue, who became the evil genius of this
unfortunate Galas family. He was bigoted, ambitious, self-
sufficient, full of his own importance, of strong, fiercely ener-
getic temperament, and undeviating in his pursuit of any
fixed idea or belief
Now, when called up by the watch and told of the
mysterious death of Marc Antoine Galas, he jumped to the
conclusion that it was a inurder, and that the perpetrator was
Jean Galas ; in other words, that Galas was a parricide. The
motives of the crime were not far to seek, he thought. One
Galas son had already abjured the Protestant for the true
faith, this now dead son was said to have been anxious to
go over, and the father was resolved to prevent it at all
cost. It was a commonly accepted superstition in those
dark times that the Huguenots would decree the death
of any traitors to their own faith.
Full of this baseless prepossession, held with all the
strength of his obstinate nature, de Beaudrigue thought
only of what would confirm it. He utterly neglected the
first duty ' of a police officer : to seek with an impartial,
unbiassed mind for any signs or indications that might lead to
the detection of the real criminals. He should have at once
examined the wardrobe in which the body was found pendent ;
the shop close at hand, the passage that led from it through
a small courtyard into the back street. It was perfectly
possible for ill-disposed people to enter the shop from the
front street and escape by this passage, and possibly leave
traces behind them.
166 WRONGFUL CONVICTIONS.
De Beaudrigue thought only of securing those he already
condemned as guilty, and hurrying upstairs found the Galas,
husband and wife, whom he at once arrested ; Pierre Galas,
whom he also suspected, was given in charge of two soldiers,
the maid-servant was taken and two friends of the family
who happened to be in the house at the time. When
another capitoul mildly suggested a little less precipitation
de Beaudrigue replied that he would be answerable, and that
he was acting in a holy cause.
The whole party was carried off to gaol. When the elder
Galas asked to be allowed to put a candlestick where he
might find it easily on his return, he was told sardonically,
" You will not return in a hurry." The request and its
answer went far to make a revulsion in his favour with
the impressionable crowd. The wretched man never re-
entered his house, but he passed it on his way to the
scaffold and knelt down to bless the place where he had
lived happily for many years and from which he had been
so ruthlessly torn.
Now en route for prison they were hooted with yells and
execrations. It was already taken for granted that they
had murdered Marc Antoine. Arrived at the Hdtel de
Ville there was a short halt while the accusation was
prepared charging the whole party as principals or
accessories. An interrogatory followed which was no more
than a peremptory summons to confess. " Gome," said the
capitoul to Pierre, " confess you kiUed him." Denial only
exasperated de Beaudrigue, who began at once to threaten
Galas and the rest with the torture.
There was absolutely no evidence whatever against the
accused, and in the want of it recourse was had to an
ancient ecclesiastical practice, the monitoire, a solemn appeal
made to the religious conscience of aU who knew anything
to come forward and declare it. This notice was affixed to
the pulpits of churches and in street corners. It assumed the
guilt of the Galas family quite illegally because without the
smallest proof, and it warned everyone to come forward
and speak whether from hearsay or of their own knowledge.
BELIOIOUS INTOLEBANOE. 167
Nothing followed the inonitoire, so these pious sons of the
Church went a step further and obtained a fulmination ; a
threat to excommunicate all who could speak yet would not
speak, which was duly launched, caused great alarm.
Religious sentiment had reached fever pitch. The burial of
Marc Antoine with all the rites of the Church was a most
imposing ceremony. He lay in state. The catafalque bore
a notice to the effect that he had abjured heresy. He was
honoured as a martyr ; a little more and he would have
been canonised as a saint.
Still nothing satisfactory was forthcoming against the
Calas. One or two witnesses declared that they had heard
disputes, swore to piteous appeals made to the father
by the dead son, to cries such as " I am being strangled,"
" They are murdering me," and this was alL It was all
for the prosecution; not a word was heard in defence. The
Protestant friends of the family were not competent to
bear witness; the accused, moreover, were permitted to call
no one. It would be hard to credit the disabilities still
imposed upon the French Huguenots were it not that we
are reminded the laws in England against Roman
Catholics at that time were little less severe. In France all
offices, all professions were interdicted to Protestants. They
could not be ushers, archers, or police agents, they were
forbidden to trade as printers, booksellers, watchmakers, or
grocers, they must not practise as doctors, surgeons, or
apothecaries.
Although there was no case, the prosecution was persisted
in obstinately, not merely because the law officers were full of
prejudice, but because, if they failed to secure conviction, they
would be liable to a counter action for their high-handed
abuse of legal powers. As has been said, no pains were taken
at the first discovery of the death to examine the spot or
investigate the circumstances. It was all the better for the
prosecution that nothing of the kind was done. Had
the police approached the matter with an open mind,
judging calmly from the facts apparent, they would have
been met at once by ample, nay, overwhelming explanation.
168 WRONGFUL OONVICTIONS.
There can be no doubt that Marc Antoine Galas committed
suicide. The proofs were plain. This eldest son was a
trouble to his parents, ever dissatisfied with his lot, dis-
liking his father's business, eager to take up some other
line, notably that of an advocate. Here, however, he
encountered the prejudice of the times, which forbade
this profession to a Protestant; and it was his known dis-
satisfaction with this law that led to the conjecture — and
there was little else — that he wished to abjure his own faith.
At last Marc Antoine offered to join his father, but was
told that until he learnt the business and showed more
aptitude, he could not hope for a partnership. From this
moment he fell away, took to evil courses, frequented the
worst company, was seen at the billiard tables and tennis
courts of Toulouse, and became much addicted to play.
When not given to debauchery, he was known as a silent,
gloomy, discontented youth, who quarrelled with his lot and
complained always of his bad luck. On the very morning of
his death he had lost heavily — a sum of money entrusted him
by his father for exchange from silver into gold.
All this pointed to the probability of suicide. The Galas
themselves, however, would not hear of any such solution.
Suicide was deemed disgraceful and dishonourable. Sooner
than suggest suicide, the elder Galas was prepai-ed to accept
the worst. One of the judges was strongly of opinion that it
was clearly a case of felo de se, but he was overruled by the
rest, who were equally convinced of the guilt of the Galas.
Not a single witness of the 150 examined could speak
positively ; not one had seen the crime committed ; they
contradicted each other, and their statements were both
improbable and opposed to common sense. Moreover, the
murder was morally and physically impossible. Was it
likely that a family party collected round the supper table,
all good friends, should take one of their number downstairs
and hang him ? Gould such wrong be done to a young and
vigorous man without some sort of struggle that would leave
its traces on himself and in the scene around ?
But the bigoted and prejudiced judges of Toulouse gave
GALAS EXECUTED. 169
judgment against the accused, yet, although so satisfied of
guilt, they ordered the torture to be applied to extort fuU
confession. Now the prisoners, being heavily ironed for safe
custody, appealed. The case was heard in the local parliament
and the first decision upheld. Thirteen judges sat ; of these,
seven were for a sentence of death, three for preliminary tor-
ture, two voted for a new inquiry based on the supposition of
suicide, one alone was for acquittal. As this was not a legal
majority, one dissident was won over and sentence of death
duly passed on Galas, who was to suffer first, in the hope that
by his admissions on the rack — for the torture was to precede
execution — the guilt of the rest might be assured.
The sentence was executed under circumstances so horrible
and heartrending that humanity shudders at hearing them.
Galas was taken first to the question chamber and put " upon
the first button." There being warned that he had but a short
time to live and must suffer torments, he was sworn and
exhorted to make truthful answer to the interrpgatories, to
all of which, after the rack had been applied, he replied
denying his guilt. He was then put "upon the second
button"; the torture increased, and stiU he protested his
innocence. Last of all, he was subjected to the question
extraordinary, and being still firm, he was handed over to the
reverend father to be prepared for death. He suffered on
the wheel, being "broken alive"; the process lasted two
whole hours, but at the end of that time the executioner put
him out of his misery by strangling him. When asked for
the last time, on the very brink of the grave, to make a clean
breast of his crime and give up the names of his confederates,
he only answered, " Where there has been no crime there can
be no accomplices." His constancy won him the respect of
all who witnessed his execution. "He died," said a monk,
" like one of our Gatholic martyrs."
This noble end caused deep chagrin to his judges ; they
were consumed with secret anxiety, hoping to the last that a
full confession would exonerate them from their cruelty. At
Toulouse there had been a fresh burst of fanaticism, in which
more lives were lost ; and now, the news of Galas' execution
170 WRONGFUL CONVICTIONS.
reaching the city, open war was declared against all
Huguenots. But a reaction was at hand, caused by the
very excess of this religious intolerance. The terrible story
began to circulate through France and beyond. The rest
of the accused had been released, not without reluctance, by
the authorities of Toulouse, but Pierre Galas had been con-
demned to banishment. Another brother had escaped to
Geneva, where he met with much sympathy.
The feeling in other Protestant countries was intense, and
loud protests were pubHshed. But the chief champion and
vindicator of the Galas family was Voltaire, who seized
eagerly at an opportunity of attacking the religious bigotry
of his countrymen. He soon raised a storm through Europe,
writing to all his disciples, denouncing the judges of Toulouse,
who had killed an innocent man. " Everyone is up in arms.
Foreign nations, who hate us and beat us, are full of indigna-
tion. Nothing since St. Bartholomew has so greatly disgraced
human nature."
Voltaire bent all the powers of his great mind to collecting
evidence and making out a strong ease. The Encyclopaedists,
with d'Alembert at their head, followed suit. All Paris, aU
France grew excited. The widow Galas was brought forward
to make a fresh appeal to the king in council. The whole
case was revived in a lengthy and tedious procedure, but in
the end it was decided to reverse the conviction. " There is
still justice in the world!" cried Voltaire, " stiU some humanity
left. Mankind are not all villains and scoundrels."
Three years after the judicial murder of Jean Galas all
the accused were formally pronounced innocent, and it was
solemnly declared that Jean Galas was illegally done to death.
But the family were utterly ruined, and, although entitled to
proceed against the judges for damages, they had no means
to take the law. The queen said the French wits had drunk
their healths, but had given them nothing to drink in return.
It is satisfactory to know, however, that some retribution
overtook the principal mover in this monstrous case. The
fierce fanatic, David de Beaudrigue, was dismissed from all
his offices, and being threatened with so many lawsuits he
BE BEAUBRIQUE'S DEATH. 171
went out of his mind. He was perpetually haunted with
horrors, always saw the scaffold and the executioner at his
grisly task, and at last, in a fit of furious madness, he threw
himself out of the window. The first time he escaped death,
but he did it again, and died murmuring the word " Galas "
with his last breath.
CHAPTER VII.
DISPUTED OR MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
The "Nameless Woman," or Champignelles Mystery — Claim of French
Marquise disputed by her Supposed Brother — She is imprisoned — Long
Litigation— Law decides she is Nameless — Judge Garrow's Story — The
Imposition practised at York Assize — Hoag or Parker ? — Husband claimed
by Two Wives — Lesurques, and the Robbery of the Lyons Mail — A Modem
Scotch Case — The Kingswood Rectory Murder : Mistaken Identification of
Karl Franz.
THE CHAMPIGNELLES MYSTERY.
One day in October, 1791, a lady dressed in mourning
appeared at the gates of the Chateau of Champignelles, and
was refused admission. "I am the Marquise de Douhault,
nde de Champignelles, the daughter of your old master.
Surely you know me ? " she said, lifting her veil. " The Mar-
quise de Douhault has been dead these three years," replied
the concierge ; " you cannot enter here. I have strict orders
from the Sieur de Champignelles."
This same lady was seen next day at the village church,
praying at the tomb of the late M. de Champignelles, and
many remarked her extraordinary resemblance to the de-
ceased marquise. But the marquise was dead ; her funeral
service had been performed in this very church. Some of the
bystanders asked the lady's maid-servant who she was, and
were told that they ought to know. Others went up to the
lady herself, who said, " I am truly the Marquise de Douhault,
but my brother will not acknowledge me or admit me
to the cheiteau."
Then followed formal recognition. People were summoned
by sound of drum to speak to her identity, and did so " to the
number of ninety-six, many of them officials, soldiers, and
members of the municipality.'' The lady gave many satis-
factory proofs, too, speaking of things that " only a daughter
of the house could know." Thus encouraged, she proceeded
\
WHO WAS SHE? 173
to serve the legal notice on her brother and claim her rights
— her share of the property of Champignelles as co-heir, and
a sum in cash for back rents during her absence when
supposed to be dead.
Where had she been all this time ? Who had died, if not
she ? Her story, although clear, precise, and supported by
evidence, was most extraordinary. To understand it we must
go back and trace her history and that of the Champignelles
family as given in the memoir prepared by the claimant for
the courts.
Adelaide Marie had been married at twenty-three to the
Marquis de Douhault, who coveted her dowry and did not
prove a good husband. He was subject to epileptic fits,
eventually went out of his mind, and, after wounding his
wife with a sword, was shut up in Charenton. The wife led
an exemplary life till his death, which was soon followed by
that of her father. Her brother now became the head of the
family, and is said to have been a frank blackguard, the cause
really of his father's death. He proceeded to swindle his
mother, who was entitled by settlement to a life interest in
the Champignelles estates, paying only pensions to her
children, and persuaded her to reverse that arrangement —
she to surrender her property, he to pay her an annual
allowance. He had gained his sister's concurrence by ob-
taining her signature to a blank document, which he filled
up as he wished.
The son, of course, did not pay the allowances, and very
often the mother was in sad straits, reduced at times to pawn
her jewels for food. She appealed now to her daughter, who
sided with her naturally, and wrote in indignant terms to her
brother. There was an angry quarrel, with the threat of a
lawsuit, if he did not mend his ways. For the purpose of
conferring with her mother, whom she meant to join in the
suit, the Marquise de Douhault proposed to start for Paris.
She had a strange presentiment that this journey would
be unlucky, and postponed it as long as possible, but went
at length the day after Christmas Day, 1787. Arrived at
Orleans, she accepted the hospitality of a M. de la Konciere and
174 DISPUTED OR MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
rested there some days. On January 15, 1788, she was to
continue her journey, but in the morning took a carriage
drive with her friends. All she remembered afterwards was
that Madame de la Ronciere offered her a pinch of snuff,
which she took, was seized with violent pains in the head
followed by great drowsiness, stupor, and the rest was a
blank.
When she came to herself, she was a prisoner in the
Salpetriere. Her brain was now clear, her mind active. She
protested strongly, and, saying who she was, demanded to be
set at large. They laughed at her, telling her her name was
BuLrette, and that she was talking nonsense.
Her detention lasted for seventeen months, and she was
denied all communication with outside. At last she managed
to inform a friend, Madame de Polignac, of her imprisonment,
and on July 13, 1789, she was released, to find herself alone
in Paris in the midst of the Revolution, of the burning of
barriers and the capture of the Bastille.
She was friendless. Her brother, to whom she at once
applied, repudiated her as an impostor ; an uncle was equally
cruel ; she asked for her mother, and was told she had none.
Then she ran to Versailles, where many friends resided, found
an asylum with Madame de Polignac, and was speedily
recognised by numbers of people, princes, dukes, and the
rest, all members of the French aristocracy that were so soon
to be dispersed in exile or to suffer by the guillotine. They
urged her not to create a scandal by suing her brother, but
to trust to the king for redress. Soon the king himself was
a prisoner, and presently died on the scaffold.
Her case was taken up, however, by certain lawyers, who
advanced her funds at usurious rates, and planned an attack
on her brother, under which, however, they contemplated
certain frauds of their own. When she hesitated to entrust
them with full powers one of these lawyers denounced her
to the Committee of Public Safety, and she narrowly escaped
execution. BaUly, the mayor of Paris, was a friend of hers,
but could not save her from imprisonment in La Force, where
she remained a month, then escaped into the country. Here
ANNE BUmETTE? 1V5
she learnt that her mother was not dead, and returned to
Paris to see her at her last gasp. After that she wandered
to and fro in hiding and in poverty tiU, in 1791, she reappeared
at Champignelles.
Such was the case she presented to the courts.
A story is good till the other side is heard, and her brother,
M. de Champignelles, clever, unscrupulous, and a friend of
the republican government, had a very strong defence. His
first answer was to accuse his sister, or the person claiming
to be his sister, of having tried to seiize his chS,teau by force
of arms, declaring that she had come backed by three hundred
men to claim her so-called rights, and that he had appealed
to the municipality for protection.
This plea failed, and his second was to accuse the claimant
of being someone else. He asserted that she was a certain
Anne Buirette, who had been an inmate of the SalpStriere
from January 3, 1786. This date was a crucial point in the
case. The claimant had adopted it as the date of her entry
into the Salpgtriere, yet it was clearly shown that at that time
the Marquise de Douhault was alive and resided on her
property of Chazelet through 1786 and 1787. On other points
she showed a remarkable knowledge of facts, remembered
names, faces of people, circumstances in the past, all tending
to prove that she was the real person. But this error in dates
was serious, and it was strengthened by a mistake in the
Christian names of the deceased Marquis de Douhault.
The case came on for trial before the civil tribunal of
St. Fargeau, where the commissary of the repubUc stated it
fully, and with a strong bias against the claimant. As he put
it : " One side asked for the restitution of a name, a fortune,
of which she had been despoiled with a cruelty that greatly
added to the alleged crime ; the other charged the claimant
with being an impostor seeking a position to which, she
had no right whatever." Between these two alternatives
the court must decide, and either way a crime must be
laid bare.
Was it all a fraud ? The defence set up was certainly
strong.
.1^6 ■ DISPUTED OB MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
It rested first on tlie proved death of the marquise. This
was supported by the certificates of the doctors who attended
her in her last ilhiess, documents legalised by the munici-
pality of Orleans, which testified to both illness and death.
Another document bore witness that extreme unction had
been administered, and that the burial had been carried out
in the presence of many relatives. The family went into
morning and the memory of the marquise was revered among
the honoured dead.
There was next the suspicious commencement of the
claim: a letter addressed by the claimant to the cure of
Champignelles, two years and a half after the death above
recorded, asking for a baptismal certificate and another of
marriage. This letter was full of faults of spelling and
grammar, and was signed Anne Louis Adelaide, formerly
Marquise de Graiaville, names that were not exact. It was
asserted that the real marquise was a lady of great intelligence,
cultured, highly educated as became her situation, knowing
several languages, a good musician, and especially well able to
write prettily and correctly.
Then the identity of the claimant with Anne Buirette was
strong on seemingly conclusive evidence, the strongest being
her own statement of the date on which she was received at
the Salpetriere. AH the story of her release through the
appeal to the Duchess de Polignac was declared to be untrue.
The past life of this Anne Buirette was raked up, and it was
demonstrated that she was a swindler who had been sent to
gaol for an ingenious fraud, which may be repeated here. It
was in 1785, on the occasion of the birth of a royal prince,
when the queen wished charitably to redeem a number of
the pledges in the Mont de Piet6, and the woman Buirette
Baudin, being unauthorised, drove round in a carriage, calling
herself a royal attendant, to collect pawn tickets from poor
people. She recovered the sums necessary to redeem the
pledges and applied the money to her own use. For this she
was sent to the Salpetriere, from which she was released in
October, 1789, and not, as she stated, on the day of the
barricades.
OONFLIGTING EVIBENGE. 177
From this moment the fraud began, whether at her own
instance or not could not be shown. But now she first signed
herself Champignelles, and was sued on bills she gave the
lawyers who would have helped her, but found she was an
adventuress. Her movements were traced from place to place
seeking recognition and assistance, now accepted, more often
rejected, by those to whom she appealed. Finally the com-
missary closed the case by pointing to the physical dissimi-
larity between the two women, the marquise and the claimant.
The first was known as a lady of quality, distinguished in her
manners, clever, well-bred ; the second was obviously stupid
and low-born, stained with vices, given to drink. The
marquise was of frail, delicate constitution, the claimant
seemed strong and robust ; the first had blue eyes, the second
black; the first walked lame, the second showed no signs
of it
Yet the claimant persisted, and her counsel upset much
that had been urged. It was shown that the death certificate
was not produced ; that the ill- written letters so condemnatory
were copies, not originals; that the official documents purporting
to set forth the past life of Anne Buirette were irregular in
form and probably not authentic. The claimant showed that
she was lame, that her eyes were blue ; more, that she carried
the scar of the sword wound made by her mad husband years
before. It was all to no purpose. The tribunal refused to
enter into the question of the alleged falsity of the docu-
mentary evidence, and taking its stand upon the date of
entry into the Salpgtriere, declared that the claimant could
not be the- Marquise de Douhault.
Then followed a long course of tedious litigation. The
claim was revived, carried from court to court, heard and
re-heard; one decree condemned the claimant, and recom-
mended that the case should be dropped; after five years
the Supreme Court of Appeal sent it for a new trial to the
Criminal Court of Bourges. The points referred were : first,
to verify the death of the Marquise de Douhault ; secondly,
to establish whether or not the claimant was Anne Buirette,
and if not, thirdly, to say whether she was the marquise.
178 DISPUTED OR MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
There were now great discrepancies as to the date of death
and the circumstances of it. Some said it occurred on
January 17, 1788, some the 18th, some again on the 19th.
Other facts were also disputed. As to the second query, 18
witnesses swore that the claimant was Anne Buirette ; 14 saw
no resemblance between Anne Buirette and her, and among
these was Anne Buirette's own husband ; as to the third, 153
out of 224 witnesses declared positively that this was the
marquise herself; but 53 said either that it was not or that
they had never seen her, whilst among the number were
several who had been satisfied as to her identity in the first
instance.
These inquiries were followed by others as to hand-
writing, and many new and surprising facts came out. It
was asserted by experts that the letters written before her
alleged death by the marquise and after it by the claimant
were in one and the same hand ; that the documents she was
supposed to have written or signed were forgeries, and must
have been concocted with fraudulent intention.
Now, too, the claimant explained away the famous date
of entry into prison, and laid it to her poor memory, enfeebled
by so many misfortunes.
There seemed enough in all this to reverse the decision
of St. Fargeau, but the Court of Bourges upheld it. The
Procureur-G6n6ral pronounced his opinion based upon the
imperious demands of his conscience that the claimant was
not the Marquise de Douhault ; more, that " between her and
that respectable lady there was as much difference as between
crime and virtue."
The law was pitilessly hostile to the very end. On the
revival of the case the claimant was successful in proving
that she was certainly not Anne Buirette, but although she
published many memoirs prepared by some of the most
eminent lawyers of the day, and was continually before the
courts during the Consulate and First Empire, she was always
unable to establish her identity. The law denied that she was
the Marquise de Douhault, but yet would not say who she was.
To the last she was nameless, and had no official existence.
OXFORD 0A8E. 179
When she died the authorities would not permit any name to
be inscribed on her tomb.
JUDGE GAREOW'S STORY.
Cases of error through mistaken identity are numerous
enough in the judicial records of every country. Now and
again mischief that would have been most deplorable has
been prevented at the eleventh hour. Thus, Samuel Male, in
1782, would certainly have gone to the gallows on the sworn
evidence of his alleged victim, who had no doubt whatever of
his identity, had he not been able to appeal to the books of
the court, which proved plainly that he was in custody on the
day of the supposed robbery.
Other extraordinary cases may be cited — that, for in-
stance, once told by Judge Garrow on the Oxford circuit.
He described how a man was being tried before him for high-
way robbery, and the prosecutor identified him positively.
The guilt of the accused seemed clear, and the jury was about
to retire to consider their verdict, when a man rode full-speed
into the courthouse yard, and forced his way into the court,
with loud cries to stop the case ; he had ridden fifty miles to
save the lite of a fellow creature, the prisoner now at the bar.
This strange interruption would have been resented by the
judge, but the new arrival called upon all present to look
at him, especially the prosecutor. It was at once apparent
that he was the living image of the prisoner ; he was dressed
in precisely similar attire, a green coat with brass buttons,
drab breeches, and top boots. The likeness in height,
demeanour, and especially in countenance, was so remarkable
that the prosecutor was dumbfoundered, he could no longer
speak positively as to the identity of the man who had robbed
him. All along, the prisoner had been protesting his inno-
cence, and now, of course, the gravest doubts arose as to
his guilt. The prosecutor could not call upon the second man
to criminate himself, and yet the jury had no alternative but
to acquit the first prisoner. In this they were encouraged by
the judge, who declared that, although a robbery had certainly
been committed by one of two persons present, the prosecutor
180 DISPUTEB OB MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
could not distinguisli between them, and there was no
alternative but acquittal.
So the first man got off"; but now a fresh jury was im-
panelled, and the second was put upon his trial ; his defence
was simple enough. Only the day previous the prosecutor
had sworn to one man as his robber. Could he now be
permitted, even if he wished, to swear away the life of another
man for the same offence ? All he could say was that it was
his behef that it was the last comer that robbed him, but
surely if the jury had acquitted one person to whom he
had sworn positively, could they now convict a second whom
he only believed to be guilty ? The jury could not but
accept the force of this reasoning, and as the second man
would make no distinct confession of guilt, he was suffered to
go free. But the truth came out afterwards. The two men
were brothers ; the first had really committed the crime, but
the whole scene had been got up between them for the
purpose of imposing on the court.
A CASE AT YORK.
A very similar case occurred at York. A gentleman
arrived there during the assize, and having alighted at a good
hotel, where he dined and slept, asked the landlord next
morning if he could find anything of interest in the town.
Hearing that the assizes were in progress, he entered the court,
just as a man was being tried for highway robbery. The case
seemed strong against the prisoner, who was much cast down,
for he had been vehemently protesting his innocence.
Suddenly, on the appearance of the stranger, he rose in
the dock and cried, " Here, thank God, is someone who can
prove my innocence." The stranger looked bewildered, but
the prisoner went on to declare that he had met this very
gentleman, at another very distant place, Dover, on the day of
the alleged robbery, and reminded him that he had conveyed
his luggage on a wheelbarrow from the Ship Inn to the
packet for Calais. The stranger was now interrogated, but
could not admit that he had been in Dover on that day,
nor had he any distinct recollection of the prisoner. The
HO AG OB PARKER ? 181
judge then inquired whether he was in the habit of keeping
a diary, or of recording the dates of his movements. The
gentleman replied that he was a merchant and made notes
regularly in his pocket-book of his proceedings. This pocket-
book was at that moment locked up in his trunk at the
inn, but he would gladly surrender his keys and allow the
book to be fetched, to be produced in court.
So a messenger was despatched for the book, and in the
meantime the prisoner at the bar questioned the stranger,
recalling facts and circumstances to his mind, with the result
that their meeting in Dover was pretty clearly proved. The
stranger had also given his name as a member of a very
respectable firm of London bankers, and altogether his credi-
bility appeared beyond question. Then came the book which
fixed the date of his visit to Dover. AU this remarkable testi-
mony, arrived at so strangely, was accepted by the jury, and
the prisoner was forthwith discharged. Within a fortnight,
the gentleman and the ex-prisoner were committed together
to York Castle, charged with a most daring act of house-
breaking in the neighbourhood.
HOAG OR PARKER ?
A very remarkable case of the difficulty of identification is to
be found in American records, under date 1804. A man was
indicted for bigamy under the idea that he was a certain
James Hoag. The man himself said that he was Thomas
Parker. At the trial, Mrs. Hoag, the wife, and many relations,
with other respectable witnesses, swore positively that he was
James Hoag ; on the other hand, Thomas Parker's wife, and
an equal number of credible witnesses, swore to the other con-
tention. Whereupon the court recalled the first set of
witnesses, who maintained their opinion, being satisfied that
he was James Hoag, that his stature, shape, gestures, com-
plexion, looks, voice, and speech left them no doubt on
the subject ; they even described a particular scar on his fore-
head, underneath his hair, and when that was turned back
there was the scar. Yet the Parker witnesses declared that
Thomas Parker had Uved among them, worked with them.
182 DISPUTED OB MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
and was with them on the very day he was supposed to have
contracted his alleged marriage with Mrs. Hoag. Now Mrs.
Hoag played her last card, and said that her husband had a
peculiar mark on the sole of his foot ; Mrs. Parker admitted
that her husband had no such mark. So the court ordered
the prisoner to take off his shoes and stockings and show the
soles of his feet ; there was no mark on either of them. Mrs.
Parker now claimed him with great insistency, but Mrs.
Hoag would not give up her husband, and there was a very
violent discussion in court. At last a justice of the peace
from Parker's village entered the court, and gave his evidence
to the effect that he had known him from a chUd, as Thomas
Parker had often given him employment. So Mrs. Parker
carried off' her husband in triumph.
LESURQUES.
The most famous, and perhaps the most hackneyed of all
cases of mistaken identity is that of Lesurques, charged with
the robbery and murder of the courier of the Lyons mail,
which has been so vividly brought home to us through--
the dramatic play based upon it and the marvellous im-
personation of the dual rdle, Lesurques-Duboscq, by Sir
Henry Irving.
Lesurques was positively identified as a man who had
travelled by the mail coach, and was in due course convicted.
Yet at the eleventh hour a woman came into court and
declared his innocence, swearing that the witnesses had
mistaken him for another, Duboscq, whom he greatly
resembled. She was the confidante of one of the gang
who had planned and carried out the robbery. But her
testimony, although corroborated by other confederates, was
rejected, and Lesurques received sentence of death. Yet
there were grave doubts, and the matter was brought before
the Kevolutionary Legislature by the Directory, who called for
a reprieve. But the Five Hundred refused, on the extra-
ordinary ground that to annul a sentence which had been
legally pronounced " would subvert all ideas of justice and
equality before the law."
LUSURQUJES. 183
Lesurques now lost all hope, and he died protesting his
innocence to the last. " Truth has not been heard," he wrote
a friend, " I shall die the victim of a mistake." He also
published a letter in the papers addressed to Duboscq as
follows : —
" Man in whose place I am to die, be satisfied with the
sacrifice of my life. If you are ever brought to justice, think
of my three children, covered with shame, and of their
mother's despair, and do not prolong the misfortunes of
so fatal a resemblance." On the scaffold he said, " I pardon
my judges and the witnesses whose mistake has murdered
me. I die protesting my innocence."
Four years elapsed before Duboscq was captured. In the
interval others of the gang had passed through the hands of
the poUce, but the prime mover was long at large. Even
when he was taken he twice escaped from prison. When
finally he was put on his trial, and the judge ordered a fair
wig, such as Lesurques had worn, to be placed on his head,
the strange and striking Hkeness was immediately apparent.
He denied his guilt, but he was convicted and guillotined.
Thus two men suffered for the same offence.
French justice was very tardy in atoning for this grave
error. The rehabilitation of Lesurques' family was not decreed
till after repeated applications under several regivfiea — the
Directory, Consulate, Empire, and the Restoration. In the
reign of Louis XVIII. the sequestrated property was restored
but there was no revision of the sentence, although the case
was again and again revived until the time of Louis PhiHppe.
One of Lesurques' sons died in the French campaign in
Algeria.
A MODEKN CASE.
A comparatively recent case of mistaken identity occurred
in Scotland, when a farmer's son, a respectable youth, was
charged with night-poaching on the evidence of a keeper, who
swore to him positively. It was a moonlight night, but
cloudy, and the features of a face were not fully recognisable.
Other witnesses were less certain than the keeper, but
they could speak to the poacher's dress and appearance
184 DISPUTED OB MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
and they saw him disappearing towards his (alleged)
father's house.
An attempt to set up an aZifei failed, and the prisoner,
having been found guilty by the jury, was sentenced
to three months' imprisonment. On his release, feeling
that he was disgraced, although an innocent man, he
left the country to take up a situation at the Cape of
Good Hope.
Not long afterwards the keepers, whose evidence had con-
victed the wrong man, met the real one in the streets of
the county town. He was in custody for theft, and was
being escorted to the courts. His name was Hammond. The
keepers followed, and after a longer look were more than ever
satisfied of the mistake they had made, and they very rightly
gave information in the proper quarter. Then a witness came
lorward who, on the night of the trespass, had seen and
spoken with this man Hammond, when he had said he
was going into the woods for a shot. Now, Hammond
himself, knowing he could not be tried for an offence for
which another had suffered, voluntarily confessed the
poaching. Great sympathy was shown the innocent victim
and the gentleman whose game had been killed offered
to befriend him in any possible way. But the young man
had already made himself a position at the Cape of Good
Hope, and would not leave the colony, where indeed he
eventually amassed a fortune. On his return to Scotland,
many years later, he was given a licence to shoot for the
rest of his days over the estates he was supposed to have
poached.
KARL FRANZ.
On the 11th June, 1861, Kingswood Rectory, in Surrey,
was broken into, and the caretaker murdered; the family
being absent at the time. The unfortunate woman was found
in her nightdress. She was tied with cords, and had been
choked by a sock used as a gag, and stuffed half down her
throat. There had been no robbery; the house had been
entered by a window in the basement, foimd open, but
nothing in the house was missing, although the whole place
KARL FBANZ. 185
had been ransacked. In doing this, however, trace enough
had been left to estabhsh the identity of one at least of the
murderers. A packet of papers was found lying on the floor
of the room, and it had evidently dropped from the pocket of
one of them.
This packet contained six documents. A passport made
out in the name of Karl Franz, of Schandau, in Saxony ; a
certificate of birth, and another of baptism, both in the name
of Franz ; a begging letter with no address, but signed Krohn;
and a letter from Madame Titiens, the great singer, in reply
to an appeal for help. Besides these, there was a sheet of
paper on which were inscribed the addresses of many pro-
minent personages ; part of the stock-in-trade of a begging-
letter writer. All these papers plainly implied that one
of the criminal intruders in Kingswood rectory was a
German. Moreover, within the last few days, several German
tramps had been seen in the neighbourhood of Kingswood,
one of whom exactly answered to the description on the
passport.
A few weeks later, a young German, in custody in London
for a trifling offence, was recognised as Karl Franz. He
himself positively denied that he was the man, but at last
acknowledged that the documents found in Kingswood
rectory were his property. He was, in due course, com-
mitted for trial at the Croydon assizes. The prosecution
seemed to hold very convincing evidence against him. A
Saxon police officer was brought over, who identified him as
Karl Franz, and swore that the various certificates produced
had been delivered to him on the previous 6th April.
Another witness swore to Franz as one of the men seen in
the neighbourhood of the rectory on the 11th June; while
a third deposed to having met two strangers in a wayside
public, talking a foreign language, and identified Franz as one
of them. This recognition was made in Newgate, where he
picked out Franz from a crowd of prisoners. Yet more ; the
servant of a brushmaker in Reigate deposed that two men,
speaking some unknown tongue, had come into the shop the
day of the crime, and had bought a hank of cord. One of
186 DISPUTED OR MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
these men she firmly believed to be the accused. This was
the same cord as that with which the murdered woman was
bound.
What could the accused say to rebut such seemingly
overwhelming evidence ? He had, nevertheless, a case, and
a strong case. He explained first that he had changed his
name because he had been told of the Kingswood murder,
and of the discovery of his papers. They were undoubtedly
his papers, but they had been stolen from him. His story
was that he had landed at Hull, and was on the tramp to
London, when he met two other Germans by the way, seamen,
Adolf Krohn and MuUer, by name, and they all joined
company. Muller had no papers, and was very anxious that
Karl Franz should give him his. On the borders of
Northamptonshire the three tramps spent the night behind
a haystack. Next morning Franz awoke to find himself
alone ; his companions had decamped, and his papers were
gone. He had been robbed also of a small bag containing a
full suit of clothes.
This story was discredited. It is a very old dodge for
accused persons to say that suspicious articles found on the
scene of a crime had been stolen from them. Yet Franz's
statement was suddenly and unexpectedly corroborated from
an independent source. The day after he had told his story,
two vagrants, who were wandering on the confines of North-
amptonshire, came across some papers hidden in a heap of
straw. They took them to the nearest police-station, when it
was found that they bore upon the Kingswood case. One was
a rough diary kept by the prisoner Franz from the moment
of his landing at Hull to the day on which he lost his other
papers. The inference was that it had been stolen from him,
too, but that the thieves, on examination, found the diary
useless, and got rid of it. Another of these second lot of
papers was a certificate of confirmation in the name of Franz.
Now, too, it was proved beyond doubt that the letter written
by Madame Titiens was not intended for the accused. The
recipient of that letter might no doubt have been an accom-
plice of the accused, but then it must have been believed that
KABL FRANZ. 187
these men kept their papers together in one lot, which was
hardly hkely.
Another curious point on which the prosecution relied
also broke down. A piece of cord had been found in Franz's
lodging, identically the same as that bought at Reigate, and
used in tying the victim. But now it was shown that this
cord could only have been supplied to the Reigate shop by
one rope-maker ; only one manufactured that quality, and
this fact rested on the most positive evidence of experts.
Franz had declared that he had picked up this bit of cord in
a street in Whitechapel, near his lodging, and opposite to a
tobacconist's shop. On further inquiry it was not only found
that the rope shop which alone supplied this cord was
situated within a few yards of Franz's lodging, but when his
sohcitor verified this, he picked up a scrap of the very same
cord in front of a shop in that same street.
Justice may be excused if it fails where evidence is
incomplete, and facts mysterious. There have been several
instances in which it has been thus misled in the past
with very regrettable consequences, but in the one more
modem case of the three to be detailed in the next chapter,
at least no irreparable mischief was caused.
CHAPTER VIII.
PROBLEMATICAL ERRORS.
Captain Douellan and the Poisoning of Sir Theodosins Boughton — Donellan's
Saspioious Conduct — John Hunter the great Surgeon's Evidence — Sir
James Stephen's View — Corroborative Story from his Father — The Lafarge
Case — Husband Poisoning — Madame Lafarge and the Cakes— Question of
" White Powder " — Doctors differ as to Presence of Arsenic in Eemains —
Possible Grmlt of Denis Barbier — Madame Lafarge's Condemnation —
Pardoned by Napoleon IIL — The Jewels said to be stolen by Madame
Lafarge from a School Friend — Defence that they were to buy a lover's
Silence — Conviction of Madame Lafarge of Theft — Madeleine Smith charged
with Poisoning her Fiance — " Not proven."
CAPTAIN DONELLAN.
"Few cases," says Sir James Stephen* "have given rise to
more discussion than that of the alleged poisoning of Sir
Theodosius Boughton by his brother - in - law, Captain
Donellan, in 1781." It was long deemed a mystery, and even
now the facts are not considered conclusive against the man
who actually suffered for the crime. Donellan was found
guilty, and in due course executed, but to this day the justice
of the sentence is questioned, and the case, in some opinions,
should be classed with judicial errors. This is not the view of
Sir James Stephen, who has declared that the evidence would
have satisfied him of Donellan's guilt. " Why should he not
have been found guilty ? " asks the eminent judge. " He had
the motive, he had the means, he had the opportunity ; his
conduct, from first to last, was that of a guUty man."
Sir Theodosius Boughton was a young baronet, who, on
his majority, came into an estate of £2,000 a year. In 1780
he was living at Lawford Hall, Warwickshire, with his mother
and sister, the latter having married Captain Donellan in
1777. Miss Donellan was her brother's heir; if he died,
* " Criminal Law of England."
THE FATAL DOSE. 189
childless everything would go to her. Donellan claimed
afterwards to have been quite disinterested. He had all his
wife's fortune settled on her and her children, and would not
even keep a life interest in her property in case she pre-
deceased him. This settlement extended not only to what
she had but what she expected, and his conduct in this matter
was one of the points made by the defence in his favour.
Boughton was suffering from a slight specific disorder, but
was otherwise well; Donellan wished to make it appear
otherwise. Talking of him to a friend, he described his con-
dition as such that the friend remarked the young man's life
would not be worth a couple of years' purchase. " Not one,"
promptly corrected Donellan. On the 29th August, 1780,
a country practitioner called in, pronounced Sir Theodosius
in good health and spirits, but prescribed a draught for
him : jalap, lavender water, nutmeg, and so forth. The re-
mainder of the day was spent in fishing, and the baronet went
to bed, having arranged that his mother should come to him
and give him his medicine at seven a.m. next morning. He
had been neglectful about taking it ; kept it locked up in a
cupboard, and, at his brother-in law's suggestion, left it on the
shelf in another room — where, as the prosecutor declared,
anyone. Captain Donellan in particular, might have access
to it.
At six a.m. on the morning of the 30th a servant went in
and saw Sir Theodosius about some business of mending a net.
The young baronet then appeared quite well At seven Lady
Boughton came up with the medicine, which she found on the
shelf. Sir Theodosius tasted and smelt it, complaining that it
was very nauseous. His mother then smelt it, and noticed
that it was like bitter almonds, but she persuaded her boy
to drink off a whole dose. " In about two minutes or less,"
she afterwards deposed, " he struggled violently and appeared
convulsed with a prodigious rattling in his throat and
stomach." When he was a little better the mother left him,
but returned in five minutes to find him with his eyes fixed,
his teeth clenched, and froth running out of his mouth.
The doctor was forthwith summoned. Now Donellan
190 PROBLEMATICAL EBBORS.
came in and Lady Boughton told him that she was afraid she
had given her son something wrong instead of the medicine.
Donellan asked for the bottle, took it, poured in some water,
then emptied the contents into a basin. Lady Boughton
protested, declaring that he ought not to have meddled
with the bottle. Donellan's reply was that he wished to
taste the stuff. Again, when a maid-servant came in he
desired her to remove the basin and the bottles, while Lady
Boughton desired her to let them alone. But now Sir
Theodosius was in the death throes, and while she was
engaged with him the bottles disappeared.
Donellan, after the event, wrote to the baronet's guardian,
Sir William Wheler, notifying the death, but giving none of
the peculiar circumstances of it. Three or four days later
the guardian replied that as the death had been so sudden,
and gossip was afloat concerning a possible mistake with the
medicine, it was desirable to have a post 'mortem. " The
country will never be satisfied else, and we shall all be
very much blamed," wrote Sir WilUam Wheler. " Although
it is late now it will appear from the stomach whether there is
anything corrosive in it. ... I assure you it is reported all
over the country that he was killed either by medicine or by
poison." The step was all the more necessary in the interest
of the doctor who prescribed the draught. Donellan replied
that Lady Boughton and he agreed "cheerfully" to the
suggestion. Sir WilHam wrote again, saying he was glad
they approved, and gave the names of the doctors who
should perform the autopsy.
When they came, Donellan showed them the second letter,
not the first ; the mere desire for a post mortem, not the
grounds for it, as set forth in the first, that poison was
suspected. Decomposition was far advanced, the doctors
were not pleased with the business, and, knowing no special
reason for inquiry, made none. Alter this Donellan wrote to
Sir WiUiam Wheler, conveying the impression that the post
mortem, had actually taken place. Later, another surgeon
offered to open the body, but Donellan refused on the plea
that it would be disrespectful to the two first doctors. Sir
BODY EXHUMED. 191
William, too, having learnt that nothing had been done,
reiterated his desire for a post 'mortem, and two more doctors
arrived at Lawf'ord Hall on the very day of the funeral.
Donellan took advantage of a misconstruction of a message,
and the body was buried without being opened.
Three days afterwards it was exhumed in deference to
growing suspicions of poison, but it was too late to verify
foul play. But the doctors formed a strong opinion of the
cause of death, and later, when it came to the trial, they
agreed that the draught, after swallowing which Boughton
died, was poison, and the immediate cause of death. One
said that the nature of the poison was sufi&ciently clear from
Lady Boughton's description of the smelL But the great
surgeon, John Hunter, would not admit that the appearance
of the body gave the least suspicion of poison. As to the
smeU, a mixture of the very same ingredients, but with laurel
water added was made up for Lady Boughton at the trial,
and she declared it smelt of bitter almonds exactly like
the draught.
The introduction of the laurel water followed the im-
portant discovery that Donellan had a private still in a room
which he called his own, and that he distOled roses in it. A
curious bit of evidence not mentioned in the report of the
trial is preserved,* which shows how a single number of
the " Philosophical Transactions " was found in Donellan's
library, and the only leaves in the book that had been cut
were those that gave an account of the making of laurel water
by distillation. Donellan's still figured further in the case, for
it was proved that he had taken it into the kitchen, and
asked the cook to dry it in the oven. This was two or three
days after the baronet's death, and the presumption was that
he had desired to take the smell of laurel water off the still.
It also appeared that Donellan was in the habit of keeping
large quantities of arsenic in his room, which he used,
seemingly with but little caution, for poisoning fish.
Donellan's defence did not help him greatly. It was
written, after the custom of those days, and did not attempt
* Townsend's " Life of Justice BuUer."
192 PROBLEMATIOAL ERRORS.
to explain why he had washed or made away with the
bottles. He submitted that he had urged the doctors to
the post Tnortem by producing Sir WiUiam Wheler's letter;
but it was the second, not the first letter. On other points he
maintained a significant silence. What went against him also
were unguarded confidences made to a feUow-prisoner while
he was awaiting trial. He said openly that he belicYed his
brother-in-law had been poisoned, and that it lay among
themselves : Lady Boughton, himself, the footman, and
the doctor. Another curious story is preserved by Sir James
Stephen, whose grandfather had long retained a strong belief
in Donellan's innocence, having written a pamphlet against
the verdict which attracted much notice at the time. Mr.
Stephen changed his opinion when he had been introduced
to Donellan's attorney, who told him that he also had firmly
believed in Donellan's innocence until one day he proposed
to his client to retain Dunning, the eminent counsel, for his
defence. DoneUan agreed, and referred the attorney to Mrs.
Donellan for authority to incur the expense of the heavy fee
required. Mrs. Donellan demurred, thinking the outlay un-
necessary, and when this was reported to the prisoner
DoneUan burst into a rage, crying, " And who got it for her ? "
Then, seeing that he had committed himself, he stopped
abruptly, and said no more.
Donellan was convicted and executed, and to those who
aver that the verdict was wrong. Sir James Stephen replies
that every item of evidence pointed to Donellan's guilt, and
did, in fact, satisfy the jury. The want of complete proof is the
chief base of the argument in Donellan's favour, backed by
the opinion of so eminent a scientist as Hunter. He deposed
that he did not see the slightest suspicion of poison, while he
admitted that death following so soon after the draught had
been swallowed was a curious fact, yet he could see no neces-
sary connection between the two circumstances. The symp-
toms, as described to him, and the state of the internal
organs, were perfectly compatible with death from epilepsy
or apoplexy. Public opinion at the time was, no doubt,
adverse to Donellan, and the jury may have been prejudiced
MADAME LAFABGE. 193
against him. He was deemed an adventurer, a fortune-
hunter, who had gained a footing into a good family by some-
what discreditable means, and it was assumed that he was
prepared to go any length to feather his nest further.
This was rather an exaggerated view. Donellan was a
gentlemaa He had borne the king's commission, and was a
son of a colonel in the army. To haunt fashionable society in
London and the chief pleasure resorts in search of a rich
partie was a common enough proceeding, and implied self-
seeking, but not necessarily criminal tendencies. He got his
chance at Bath, and made the most of it, by doing a civil
thing. Lady Boughton was unable to find accommodation
in the best hotel, and Donellan, who was there, promptly gave
up his rooms. The acquaintance thus pleasantly begun grew
into intimacy, and ended in his marrying Miss Boughton. So
far the circumstances were not very strong against him. It
was his conduct after the event that told, and it is hardly
possible, when reviewing the facts as stated above, not to
follow on the same side as Sir James Stephen.
MADAME LAFARGE.
One of the greatest poisoning trials on record in any
country is that of Madame Lafarge, and its interest is un-
dying, for to this day the case is surrounded in mystery.
Although the guilt of the accused was proved to the satis-
faction of the jury at the time of trial, strong doubts were
then entertained, and still possess acute legal minds, as to
the justice of her conviction. Long after the event, two
eminent Prussian jurists, councillors of the criminal court of
Berlin, closely studied the proceedings, and gave it as their
unqualified opinion that, according' to Prussiain law, there was
absence of proof They published a report on the case, in
which they gave their reasons for this opinion, but it will be
best to give some account of the alleged poisoning before
quoting the arguments of these independent authorities.
In the month of January, 1840, an iron-master, residing at
Glandier, in the Limousin, died suddenly of an unknown
malady. His family, friends, and immediate neighbours at
194 PROBLEMATICAL ERRORS.
once accused his wife of having poisoned him. This wife
differed greatly in disposition and breeding from the deceased.
Marie Fortunee Capelle was the daughter of a French artillery-
colonel, who had served in Napoleon's Guard. She was well
connected, her grandmother having been a fellow-pupil of the
Duchess of Orleans under Madame de Genlis ; her aunts were
well married, one to a Prussian diplomat, the other to M. Garat,
the weU-known general secretary of the Bank of France. She
had been delicately nurtured ; her father held good military
commands, and was intimate with the best people about,
many of them nobles of the First Empire, and the child was
petted by the Duchess of Dalmatia (Madame Soult), the
Princess of Echmuhl (Madame Ney), Madame de Cambaceres,
and so forth.
Colonel Capelle died early, and Marie's mother, having
married again, also died. Marie was left to the care of distant
relations; she had a small fortune of her own, which was
applied to her education, and she was sent to one of the best
schools in Paris. Here she made bosom friends, as school-
girls do, and with one of them became involved in a foolish
intrigue, which, in the days of her trouble, brought upon her
another serious charge, that of theft. Marie grew up
distinguished-looking if not absolutely pretty; taU, slim,
with dead-white complexion, jet-black hair worn in straight
shining pleats, fine dark eyes, and a sweet but somewhat sad
smile. These are the chief features of contemporary portraits.
To marry her was now the wish of her people, and she was
willing enough to become independent. Some say that a
suitor was sought through the matrimonial agents, others
deny it positively. In any case, a proposal came from a
certain Charles Pouch Lafarge, a man of decent family but
inferior to the Capelles, not much to look at, about thirty, and
supposed to be prosperous in his business. The marriage
was hastily arranged, and as quickly solemnised — in no more
than five days. Lafarge drew a rosy picture of his house :
a large mansion in a wide park, with beautiful views,
where all were eager to welcome the bride and make her
happy. As they travelled thither the scales quickly fell from
MARIE'S LETTER. 195
Marie's eyes. Her new husband changed in tone; from
beseeching he became rudely dictatorial, and he seems to
have soon -wounded the delicate susceptibilities of his wife.
The climax was reached on arrival at Glandier, a dirty,
squalid place. Threading its dark, narrow streets, they reached
the mansion — only a poor place, after all, surrounded with
smoking chimneys : a cold, damp, dark house, dull without,
bare within. The shock was terrible, and Madame Lafarge
declared she had been cruelly deceived. Life in such sur-
roimdings, tied to such a man, seemed utterly impossible.
She fled to her own room, and there indited a strange letter to
her husband, a letter that was the starting-point of suspicion
against her, and which she afterwards explained away as
merely a first mad outburst of disappointment and despair.
Her object was to get free at all costs from this hateful
and unbearable marriage.
This letter, dated 25th August, 1839, began thus : —
" Chables, — I am about to implore pardon on my knees. I have
betrayed you culpably. I love not you, but another. . . ." And it
continued in the same tone for several sheets. Then she implored
her husband to release her and let her go that very evening. " Get
two horses ready, I will ride to Bordeaux and then take ship to
Smyrna. I will leave you all my possessions. May God turn them to
your advantage, you deserve it. As for me, I will live by my own
exertions. Let no one know that I ever existed. ... If this does not
satisfy you I will take arsenic, / have some. . . • spare me, be the
guardian angel of a poor orphan girl, or, if you choose, slay me, and
say I have killed myself. " Makie."
This strange effusion was read with consternation not only
by Lafarge, but by his mother, his sister, and her husband. A
stormy scene followed between Lafarge and his wife, but he
won her over at length. She withdrew her letter, declaring
that she did not mean what she wrote, and that she would do
her best to make him happy. " I have accepted my position,"
she wrote to M. Garat, " although it is difficult. But with a
little strength of mind, with patience, and my husband's love,
I may grow contented. Charles adores me and I cannot but
be touched by the caresses lavished on me." To another she
196 PROBLEMATIGAL ERBOBS.
wrote that she struggled hard to be satisfied with her life.
Her husband under a rough shell possessed a noble heart ; her
mother-in-law and sister-in-law overwhelmed her with atten-
tions. Now she gradually settled down into domesticity, and
busied herself with household affairs.
M. Lafarge made no secret of his wish to employ part
of his wife's fortune in developing his works. He had
come upon an important discovery in iron smelting, and
only needed capital to make it highly profitable. His wife
was so persuaded of the value of this invention that she
lent him money, and used her influence with her relatives
to secure a loan for him in addition. Husband and wife
now made wills whereby they bequeathed their separate
estates to each other. Lafarge, however, made a second
will, almost immediately, in favour of his mother and sister,
an underhand proceeding, of which his wife was not told.
Then he started for Paris, to secure a patent for his new
invention, taking with him a general power of attorney to
raise money on his wife's property. During their separation
many affectionate letters passed between them.
The first attempt to poison, according to the prosecution,
was made at the time of this visit to Paris. Madame Lafarge
now conceived the tender idea of having her portrait painted,
and sending it to console her absent spouse. At the same
time she asked her mother-in-law to make some small cakes
to accompany the picture. They were made and sent, with a
letter, written by the mother, at Marie Lafarge's request,
begging Lafarge to eat one of the cakes at a particular
hour on a particular day. She would eat one also at Glandier
at the same moment, and thus a mysterious affinity might be
set up between them.
A great deal turned on this incident. The case containing
the picture and the rest was despatched on the 16th
December, by diligence, and reached Paris on the 18th.
But on opening the box, one large cake was found, not
several small ones. How and when had the change been
effected? The prosecution declared it was Marie's doing.
The box had undoubtedly been tampered with ; it left, or was
MARIE BUYS AB8ENIG. 197
supposed to leave, Glandier fastened down with small screws.
On reaching Paris it was secured with long nails, and the
articles inside were not placed as they had been on
departure. But the object of the change was evidently evil.
For now Lafarge tore off a corner of the large cake, ate it,
and the same night was seized with violent convulsions.
It was presumably a poisoned cake, although the fact was
never verified, but Marie Lafarge was held responsible for
it, and eventually charged with an attempt to murder her
husband.
In support of this grave charge it was found that on the
12th December, two days before the box left, she had pur-
chased a quantity of arsenic from a chemist in the neighbour-
ing town. Her letter asking for it was produced at the trial,
and it is worth reproducing. " Sir," she wrote, " I am overrun
with rats. I have tried nux vomica quite without effect.
Will you, and can you, trust me with a little arsenic ? You
may count upon my being most careful, and I shall only use
it in a linen closet." At the same time she asked for other
harmless drugs.
Further suspicious circumstances were adduced against her.
It was urged that after the case had been despatched to Paris
she was strangely agitated, her excitement increasing on the
arrival of news that her husband was taken ill, that she ex-
pressed the gravest fears of a bad ending, and took it almost
for granted that he must die. Yet, as the defence presently
showed, there were points also in her favour. Would Marie
have made her mother-in-law write referring to the small
cakes, one of which the son was to eat, if she knew that
no small cakes but one large one would be found within ?
How could she have substituted the large for the small?
There was as much evidence to show that she could not have
effected the (exchange as that she had done so. Might not
someone else have made the change ? Here was the first
importation of another possible agency in the murder, which
never seems to have been investigated at the time, but to
which I shall return presently to explain how Marie Lafarge
may have borne the brunt of another person's crime. Again,
198 TBOBLEMATIOAL EBR0R8.
if she wanted thus to poison her husband, it would have been
at the risk of injuring her favourite sister also. For this sister
lived in Paris, and Lafarge had written that she often called
to see him. She might then have been present when the
case was opened, and might have been poisoned too.
Lafarge so far recovered that he was able to return to
Glandier, which he reached on the 5 th January, 1840. That
same day Madame Lafarge wrote to the same chemist's for
more arsenic. It was a curious letter, and certainly calculated
to prejudice people against her. She told the chemist that
her servants had made the first lot into a clever paste which
her doctor had seen, and had given her a prescription for it ;
she said this " so as to quiet the chemist's conscience, and
lest he should think she meant to poison the whole province
of Limoges." She also informed the chemist that her husband
was indisposed, but that this same doctor attributed it to the
shaking of the journey, and that with rest he would soon
be better.
But he got worse, rapidly worse. His symptoms were
alarming, and pointed undoubtedly to arsenical poisoning,
judged by our modern knowledge. Madame Lafarge, senior,
now became strongly suspicious of her daughter-in-law, and
she insisted on remaiaing always by her son's bedside. Marie
opposed this, and wished to be her husband's sole nurse, and,
according to the prosecution, would have kept everyone else
from him. She does not seem to have succeeded, for the
relatives and servants were constantly in the sick-room-
Some of the latter were very much on the mother's side, and
one, a lady companion, Anna Brun, afterwards deposed that
she had seen Marie go to a cupboard and take a white powder
from it, which she mixed with the medicine and food given to
Lafarge. Madame Lafarge, senior, again, and her daughter,
showed the medical attendant a cup of chicken broth on the
surface of which white powder was floating. The doctor said
it was probably lime from the white-washed waU. The ladies
tried the experiment of mixing lime with broth, and did not
obtain the same appearance. Yet more, Anna Brun, having
seen Marie Lafarge mix powder as before in her husband's
MARIE ACGUBED OF MtfBBER. 199
drink, heard him cry out, " What have you given me ? It
burns hke fire." " I am not surprised," replied Marie quietly.
" They let you have wine, although you are suifering from
inflammation of the stomach."
Yet Marie Lafarge made no mystery of her having arsenic.
Not only did she speak of it in the early days, but during the
illness she received a quantity openly before them alL It was
brought her to Lafarge's bedside by one of his clerks, Denis
Barbier (of whom more directly), and she put it into her
pocket. She told her husband she had it. He had been com-
plaining of the rats that disturbed him overhead, and the
arsenic was to kill them. Lafarge took the poison from his
wife, handed it over to a maid-servant, and desired her to use
it in a paste as a vermin-kiUer. Here the facts were scarcely
against Marie Lafarge.
Matters did not improve, however, and on the 13th
Madame Lafarge, senior, sent a special messenger to fetch
a new doctor from a more distant town. On their way back
to Glandier, this messenger, the above - mentioned Denis
Barbier, confided to the doctor that he had often bought
arsenic for Marie Lafarge, but that she had begged him
to say nothing about it. The doctor, Lespinasse by name,
saw the patient, immediately ordered antidotes, while some of
the white powder was sent for examination to the chemist
who had originally supplied the arsenic. He does not seem
to have detected poison, but he (the chemist) rephed that
nothing more should be given Lafarge unless it had been
prepared by a sure hand.
On this the mother denounced Marie to the now dying
Lafarge as his murderess. The wife, who stood there with
white face and streaming eyes, heard the terrible accusation,
but made no protest. From that till his last moments he
could not bear the sight of his wife. Once, when she offered
him a drink, he motioned, horror stricken, for her to leave
him, and she was not present at his death on the 14th of
January. A painful scene followed between the mother and
Marie by the side of the still warm corpse. High words,
upbraidings, threats on the one side, indignant denials on the
200 PROBLEMATICAL EBB0R8.
other. Then Marie's private letters were seized, the lock of
her strong box having been forced, and next day, the whole
matter having been reported to the officers of the law, a post
mortem was ordered, on suspicion of poisoning. " Impossible,"
cried the doctor who had regularly attended the deceased.
" You must all be wrong. It would be abominable to suspect a
crime without more to go upon." The post morteTn was, how-
ever, made, yet with such strange carelessness that the result
was valueless.
It may be stated at once that the presence of arsenic was
never satisfactorily proved. There were several early exam-
inations of the remains, but the experts never fully agreed.
Orfila, the most eminent French toxicologist of his day, was
called in to correct the first autopsy, and his opinion was
accepted as final. He was convinced that there were traces of
arsenic in the body. They were, however, infinitesimal ; Orfila
put it at half a milligramme. Raspail, another distinguished
French doctor, called it the hundredth part of a milligramme,
and for that reason declared against Orfila. His conclusion,
arrived at long after her conviction, was in favour of the
accused. The jury, he maintained, ought not to have found
her guilty, because no definite proof was shown of the presence
of arsenic in the corpse.
This point was not the only one in the poor woman's
favour. Even supposing that Lafarge had been poisoned —
which, in truth, is highly probable — the evidence against her
was never conclusive, and there were many suspicious circum-
stances to incriminate another person. This was Denis
Barbier, Lafarge's clerk, who lived in the house under a false
name, and whose character was decidedly bad. Lafarge Avas
not a man above suspicion himself, and he long used this
Barbier to assist him in shady financial transactions — the
manufacture of forged bills of exchange which were ne-
gotiated for advances. Barbier had conceived a strong dislike
to Marie Lafarge from the first ; it was he who originated the
adverse reports. At the trial he frequently contradicted
himself, as when he said at one time that he had volunteered
the information that he had been buying arsenic for Marie,
WAS DENIS BABBIEB GUILTY? 201
and at another, a few minutes later, that he only conlessed
this when pressed.
Barbier then was Lafarge's confederate in forgery ; had
these frauds been discovered he would have shared Lafarge's
fate. It came out that he had been in Paris when Lafarge
was there, but secretly. Why ? When the illness of the iron-
master proved mortal, Barbier was heard to say, " Now I
shaU be master here!" All through that illness he had
access to the sick-room, and he could easily have added
the poison to the various drinks and nutriment given to
Lafarge. Again, when the possibilities of murder were first
discussed, he was suspiciously ready to declare that it was not
he who gave the poison. Finally, the German jurists, already
quoted, wound up their argument against him by saying, " We
do not actually accuse Barbier, but had we been the public
prosecutors we would rather have formulated charges against
him than against Madame Lafarge."
Summing up the whole question, they were of opinion
that the case was fiiU of mystery. There were suspicions that
Lafarge had been poisoned, but so vague and uncertain that
no conviction was justified. The proofs against the person
accused were altogether insufficient. On the other hand
there were many conjectures favourable to her. Moreover,
there was the very gravest circumstantial evidence against
another person. The verdict should decidedly have been
" not proven." But public opinion, hastily formed, condemned
Madame Lafarge in advance, and the well-known machinery
of the French criminal law helped to create a new judicial
error, through obstinate reliance on a preconceived opinion,
following the mistaken public view.
Marie Lafarge was sentenced to hard labour for life, after
exposure in the public pillory. The latter was remitted, but
she went into the Montpelier prison and remained there many
years. Not long after her conviction there was a strong
revulsion of feeling, and during her seclusion she received
some six thousand letters from outside. Six thousand in all,
a few of them, half a dozen at most, harsh and vindictive, but
the bulk sympathetic and kindly. Many in prose or verse,
202 FBOBLEMATIOAL EBB0B8.
and in several languages, were signed bj^ persons of the
highest respectability. A large number offered marriage,
some the opportunities for escape, and the promise of happi-
ness in another country. She replied to almost all with her
own hand. Her pen was her chief solace during her long im-
prisonment, and several volumes of her work were eventually
published, including her memoirs and prison thoughts. At
last, having suffered seriously in health, she appealed to
Napoleon III., the head of the Second Empire, and obtained a
full pardon in 1852.
THE STOLEN JEWELS.
The sad story of Madame Lafarge would be incomplete
without some account of another mysterious charge brought
against her shortly after her arrest for murder. When her
mother-in-law accused her of poisoning her husband, one of her
old schoolmates declared that she had stolen her jewels. This
second allegation raised the public interest to fever pitch. All
France, from court to cottage, all classes, high and low, were
concerned in this great ccmse celebre, in which the supposed
criminal, both thief and murderess, belonged to the best
society, and was a young, engaging woman. The question of
her guilt or innocence was keenly discussed. Each new
fact or statement was taken as clear proof of one or the
other, and the public press warmly espoused either side.
The charge of theft, although the lesser, took precedence
of that of murder, and Madame Lafarge was tried by the
Correctional Tribunal of Tulle before she appeared at the
assizes to answer for her life. She was prosecuted by a
certain Vicomte de Leautaud on behalf of his wife. This
accusation was clear and precise. Madame de Leautaud's
diamonds had disappeared for more than a year ; the Vicomte
beheved that Madame Lafarge, when Marie Capelle, had stolen
them when on a visit to his house, the Chateau de Busagny>
and he prayed the court to authorise a search to be made at
Glandier, Madame Lafarge's residence until her recent arrest.
When arraigned and interrogated, Marie at once admitted
that the diamonds were in her possession. She readily
MABIE LAFABGE EXPLAINS. 203
indicated the place where they would be found at Glandier,
and made no difficulty as to their restitution. But
she long refused positively to explain how she had come by
them, declaring it to be a secret she was bound in honour
to keep inviolate. At last, under the urgent entreaties of her
friends, she confided the secret to her two counsel, Maitre
Bac and Maitre Lachaud (at that time on the threshold of his
great and enduring renown), and sent them to Madame
Leautaud beseeching her to allow a full revelation of the
facts. The letters she then wrote her school friend have
been preserved. The first was brief, and merely introduced
Maitre Bac as a noble and conscientious person, who had her
full confidence and on whom Madame de Leautaud might rely
in discussing an affair that concerned them both so closely.
The second was a pathetic appeal to tell the whole truth about
the diamonds, and it is not easy to say on reading it whether
it was inspired by extraordinary astuteness or genuine emo-
tion. It ran :
" Maeib (de Leautaud), — May God never visit upon you the evil
you have done me. Alas, I know you to be really good but weak. You
have told yourself that as I am likely to be convicted of an atrocious
crime I may as well take the blame of one only infamous. I kept our
secret. I left my honour in your hands, and you have not chosen to
absolve me.
" The time has arrived for doing me justice. Marie, for your con-
science' sake, for the sake of your past, save me ! . . . Remember the
facts, you cannot deny them. From the moment I knew you I was
deep in your confidence, and I heard the story of that intrigue, begun
at school and continued at Busagny, by letters that passed through
my hands.
" You soon discovered that this handsome Spaniard had neither
fortune nor family. You forbade him to love although you had first
sought his love, and then you entered into another love affair with
M. de Leautaud.
"... The man you flouted cried for vengeance. . . . The situation
became intolerable, but money alone could end it. I came to Busagny,
and it was arranged between us that you should entrust your diamonds
to me, so that I might raise money on them, with which you could pay
the price he demanded."
The letter continues in these terms, and need not be repro-
duced at length. Marie Lafarge continues to implore her old
204 PROBLEMATICAL ERRORS.
friend to save her, reminding her that only thus can she save
herself. Otherwise all the facts must come out.
"Kemember "—and here seems to protrude one glimpse of the cloven
foot — " I have all the proofs in my hands. Your letters to him and his
to you, your letters to me. . . . Your letter, in which you tell me that
he is singing in the chorus at the opera, and is of the stamp of man to
extort blackmail. . . There is one thing for you to do now. Acknow-
ledge in writing under your own hand, dated June, that you consigned
the diamonds to my care with authority to sell them if I thought it
advisable. This will end the affair."
As Madame de Leautaud still positively denied the truth
of these statements, Marie, in self-defence, made them to the
judge. She told the whole story of how the diamonds had been
given her to sell, that she might remit the amount to a young
man in poor circumstances, and of humble condition, whose
indiscretions might prove inconvenient. Madame de Leautaud
had assisted Marie to take the jewels out of their settings, so
as to facilitate their sale. If they had not as yet been sold, it
was because she had found it very difficult to dispose of them,
both before and after her marriage. She still had them ; and
they were, in fact, found at Glandier, in the place she indicated.
There was never any question as to the identity of the stones,
which were recognised in court by the jeweller who had
supplied them, and who spoke to their value, some £300^
independently of certain pearls which were missing.
The prosecution certainly made out a strong case against
Marie Lafarge. The jewels, it was stated, were first missed
after a discussion between the two ladies on the difference
between paste and real stones. At first Madame de Leautaud
made little of her loss. She was careless of her things, and
thought her husband or her mother had hidden her jewels
somewhere to give her a fright. But they both denied having
played her any such trick, and as the jewels were undoubtedly
gone, the police were informed, and many of the servants sus-
pected. Suspicion against Madame Lafarge had always rankled
in Madame de Leautaud's mind, and it was soon strengthened
by her strange antics with regard to the jewels. On one
occasion she defended a servant who had been suspected.
THE MYSTEBT OF THE DIAMONDS. 205
promising to find him a place if he were dismissed, as she
knew he was innocent. One of her servants told the
de Leautauds that her mistress said laughingly she had
stolen the jewels and swallowed them. Again, Madame
Lafarge had submitted to be mesmerised by Madame de
Montbreton, Madame de Leautaud's sister, and had fallen
into an evidently simulated magnetic trance ; when, being
questioned about the missing jewels, she said they had been
removed by a Jew, who had sold them. Other circumstances
were adduced as strongly indicating Marie's guilt. It was
observed in Paris, before her marriage, that she had a quantity
of fine stones, loose, and she explained that they had been
given her at Busagny. Once after her marriage M. Lafarge
had asked her for a diamond to cut a pane of glass, and,
to his surprise, she produced a number, saying she had owned
them from childhood, but that they had only been handed
over to her lately by an old servant.
These contradictory explanations told greatly against
Madame Lafarge. She made other statements also that were
at variance. When first taxed with the theft she pretended
that the diamonds had been sent her by an uncle in Toulouse,
whose name and address she was, however, unable to give.
Next she brought up the story contained in her appealing
letter to Madame de Leautaud. It was the story of the young
man, Felix Clave, son of a schoolmaster, with whom the girls
had made acquaintance. Having frequently met him when
attending mass, they rashly wrote him an anonymous letter,
giving him a rendezvous in the garden of the Tuileries.
Marie Lafarge declared that the encouragement came from
Madame de Leautaud, which the latter denied, and retorted
that it was Marie Lafarge who had been the object of the
young man's devotion.
Then Clave disappeared to Algeria, so Marie declared, as he
had written to her from Algiers. Madame de Leautaud said
this was impossible, as she had seen him on the stage of the
opera. A few months later, when her friend was with her at
Busagny, Madame de Leautaud brought out the diamonds
and implored Marie to ^sell them for her, as she must
206 PBOBLEMATIOAL EBB0B8.
"absolutely" have money to buy Clave's silence. What
followed, according to Marie Lafarge, has already been told,
except that Madame de Leautaud went through a number
of devices to make it appear that the diamonds had been
stolen from her, and that then M. de Leautaud was informed
of the supposed theft. The gendarmes actually came to
search the chateau and to investigate the robbery next day,
although at that time the diamonds were safe in her posses-
sion, entrusted to her by Madame de Leautaud.
According to the prosecution, these statements were quite
untrue. There had been a theft, and it was soon discovered.
The chief of the Paris detective police, M. Allard, had been
summoned to Busagny to investigate, and he was satisfied
that the robbery had been committed by someone in the
chateau ; and, as the servants all bore unimpeachable char-
acters, M. Allard had asked about the other inmates, and the
guests. Then M. de Leautaud mentioned Marie Cappelle
(Lafarge), and hinted that there were several sinister rumours
current concerning her, but would not make any distinct
charge then. M. Allard now remembered that there had
been another mysterious robbery at Madame Garat's, Marie
Lafarge's aunt's house, in Paris, a couple of years before, when
a 500 franc note had been stolen, and he had been called in to
investigate, but without any result. What if Marie Cappelle
Lafarge had had something to say to this theft ?
It must be admitted that these charges, if substantiated
made the case look black against Marie Lafarge. But one,
at least, fell entirely to the ground when she was on her
defence. It was clearly shown that she could not have stolen
the bank note at her aunt's, Madame Garat's, for she was in
Paris at the time. As regards the diamonds, her story, if
she had stuck to one account only, that of the blackmail,
would have been plausible, nay probable, enough. It was
positively contradicted on oath by the lady most nearly con-
cerned, Madame de Leautaud, and it was not believed by the
court; and Marie Lafarge was finally convicted of having
stolen the diamonds, and sentenced to two years' imprison-
ment. She appealed against this finding, and appeared no
MADELEINE SMITH. 207
less than four times to seek redress, always without success.
Meanwhile the graver charge of murder had been gone into,
and decided against her ; so that the shorter sentence for theft
was merged into that of life.
There were many who believed in Marie's innocence to
the very last.. Her own maid elected to go with her to
prison, and remained by her side for a year. A young girl,
cousin of the deceased M. Lafarge, was equally devoted, and
also accompanied her to Montpelier gaol. Her advocate,
the eminent Maitre Lachaud, steadfastly, denied her guilt,
and years later, when the unfortunate woman died, he
regularly sent flowers for her grave.
MADELEINE SMITH.
The eldest daughter of a Glasgow architect, Madeleine
Smith was a girl of great beauty, bright, attractive, and much
courted. But from all her suitors she singled out a certain
Jersey man, Pierre ifimile I'Angelier, an einploye in the firm
of Huggins, in Glasgow — a small, insignificant creature, alto-
gether unworthy of her in looks or position. The acquaintance
ripened, and Madeleine seems to have become devotedly
attached to her lover, whom she often addressed as her " own
darling husband." They kept up a clandestine correspond-
ence, and had many stolen interviews at a friend's house.
In the spring of 1856 Madeleine's parents discovered the
intimacy, and peremptorily insisted that it should end forth-
with. But the lovers continued to meet secretly, and
Madeleine threw off all restraint, and was ready to elope with
her lover. The time was indeed fixed, but she suddenly
changed her mind.
Then a rich Glasgow merchant, Mr. Minnock, saw Made-
leine, and was greatly enamoured of her. Early in January,
1857, he offered her marriage, and she became engaged to him.
It was necessary, now, to break with L'Angelier, and, mindful
of the old adage to be off with the old love before she took
on with the new, she wrote to him, begging him to return her
letters and her portrait. L'Angelier positively refused to give
them or her up. He had told many friends of his connection
208 PROBLEMATICAL ERRORS.
witk Madeleine Smith, and some of them had now advised
him to let her go. " No ; I will never surrender the letters,
nor, so long as I live, shall she marry another man." On
the 9 th February he wrote her a letter, which must have
been full of upbraiding, and probably of threats, but it has not
been preserved. Madeleine must have been greatly terrified
by it, too, for her reply was a frantic appeal for mercy, for
a chivalrous silence as to their past relations which he
was evidently incapable of preserving. She was in despair,
entirely in the hands of this mean ruffian, who was deter-
mined not to spare her ; she saw all hope of a good marriage
fading away, and nothing but ignominious exposure before her.
As the result of the trial, when by-and-by she was
arraigned for the murder of L'Angelier, was a verdict of
" Not Proven," it is hardly right to say that she now resolved
to rid herself of the man who possessed her guilty secret-
But that was the case for the prosecution, the basis of the
charge brought against her. She had made up her mind, as it
seemed, to extreme measures. She appeared to be reconciled
with L'Angelier, and had several interviews with him. What
passed at these meetings of the 11th and 12th February was
never positively known, but on the 19th he was seized with a
mysterious and terrible illness, being found lying on the floor
of his bedroom writhing in pain, and likely to die. He did,
in fact, recover, but those who knew him said he was never
the same man again. He seems to have had some suspicion
of Madeleine, for he told a friend that a cup of chocolate had
made him sick, but said he was so much fascinated by her
that, he would forgive her even if she poisoned him, and that
he would never willingly give her up.
Rumours of the engagement and approaching marriage
now reached his ears, and called forth fresh protests and
remonstrances. Madeleine replied, denying the rumours, and
declaring that she loved him alone. About this time the
Smith family went on a visit to Bridge of AUan, where
Mr. Minnock followed, and, at his urgent request, the day of
marriage was fixed. Then they all returned to Glasgow, and
missed L'Angelier, who had also followed Madeleine to Bridge
L'ANGELIEB DIES. 209
of Allan. He remained at Stirling, but, on receiving a letter
from her, he went on to Glasgow, being in good health at the
time. This was the 22nd February, a Sunday, on which
night, about eight p.m., he reached his lodgings, had tea, and
went out. As he left, he asked for a latchkey, saying he
" might be late." He expressed his intention of going back
to Stirling the following day.
That same night, or rather in the small hours of the
morning, the landlady was roused by a violent ringing of the
bell; and, going down to the front door, found L'Angelier
there, half doubled up with pain. He described himself as
exceedingly ill. A doctor was sent for, who put him to bed,
prescribed remedies, but did not anticipate immediate danger.
The patient, however, persisted in repeating that he was
"worse than the doctor thought;" but he hoped if the
curtains were drawn round his bed, and he were left in peace
for five minutes, he would be better. These were his la^t
words. When the doctor presently reappeared, L'Angelier
was dead. He had passed away without giving a sign ;
without uttering one word to explain how he had spent his
time during the evening.
A search was made in his pockets, but nothing of im-
portance was found; but a letter addressed to him signed
" M'eine," couched in passionate language, imploring him " to
return." " Are you iU, my beloved ? Adieu ! with tender
embraces." The handwriting of this letter was not identified,
but a friend of L'Angelier's, a M. de Mean, hearing of his
sudden death, went at once to warn Madeleine Smith's father
that L'Angelier had letters in his possession which should not
be allowed to faU into strange hands. It was too late : the
friends of the deceased had sealed up his effects and refused
to surrender the letters.
Later M. de Mean plainly told Madeleine Smith, whom he
saw in her mother's presence, that grave suspicion began to
overshadow her. It was known that L'Angelier had come up
from the Bridge of Allan at her request, and he implored her
to say whether or not he had been in her company that night.
Her answer was a decided negative, and she stated positively
210 PROBLEMATICAL EBBOBS.
that she had seen nothing of him for three weeks. She went
further and asserted that she had neither seen nor wanted to
see him on the Sunday evening; she had given him an
appointment for Saturday, but he had never appeared,
although she had waited for him some time. This appoint-
ment had been made that she might recover her letters. All
through this painful interview with de Mean Madeleine
appeared in the greatest distress. It must have preyed
greatly on her mind, for next morning she took to flight.
Madeleine was pursued, but by her family, not the police,
and overtaken on board a steamer bound for Rowallan.
Soon after her return to Glasgow the contents of her letters
to L'Angelier were made public, and a post morteTn had been
made on the deceased. The body had been exhumed, and
the suspicious appearance of the mucous membrane of the
stomach, together with the history of the case, pointed to
death by poison. The various organs carefully sealed were
handed over to experts for analysis, and it may be well to
state here the result of the medical examination.
Dr. Penny stated in evidence that the quantity of arsenic
found in the deceased amounted to eighty-eight grains, or
about half a teaspoonful, some of it in hard gritty colourless
crystalline particles. It was probable that this was no more
than half the whole amount the deceased had swallowed, for
under the peculiar action of arsenic a quantity, quite half a
teaspoonful, must have been ejected.
The chief difSculties in the case were whether anyone
could have taken so much as a whole teaspoonful of arsenic
unknowingly, and how this amount could have been admin-
istered. The question was keenly debated, and it was gener-
ally admitted that the poison could have been given in
chocolate, cocoa, gruel, or some thick liquid, or mixed with
solid food in the shape of a cake. This was not inconsistent
with the conjectures formed that L'AngeUer had met Made-
leine Smith on the Sunday night.
The case against her became more decided when it was
ascertained that she had been in the habit of buying arsenic,
but with the alleged intention of taking it herself for her
NOT PROVEN. 211
complexion. She was now arrested and sent for trial at
Edinburgh, on a charge of poisoning L'AngeUer. Her pur-
chases of arsenic were proved by the chemist's books under
date of the 21st February, four days before the murder, and
again on the 6th and 18th March.
It was also proved that she wanted to buy prussic acid a
few weeks before her arrest. There was nothing to show that
she had obtained or possessed any arsenic at the time of
L'Angelier's first illness on February the 19th. But it was
proved in evidence that, on the night of his death, Sunday
22nd March, L'Angelier had been seen in the neighbourhood
of Blythswood Square, where the Smiths lived ; again, that
he had himself bought no arsenic in Glasgow.
Madeleine's plucky demeanour in court gained her much
sympathy; she never once gave way; only when her im-
passioned letters were being read aloud did she really lose
her composure. She stepped into the dock as though she
was entering a ball-room, and although she was under grave
suspicion of having committed a dastardly crime, the conduct
of L'Angelier had set the public strongly against him, so that
a vague feeling of " served him right " was present in the
large crowd assembled to witness the trial. The case for the
prosecution was strong, but it failed to prove the actual
administration of poison, or, indeed, that the accused had
met the deceased on the Sunday night.
On acquittal, the judge, in summing up, pointed out the
grave doubts that surrounded the case, and the verdict of the
jury was " Not Proven," by a majority of votes.
This result was received with much applause in court, and
generally throughout Glasgow, although a dispassionate re-
view of all the facts in this somewhat mysterious case must
surely point clearly to a failure of justice. However, Madeleine
triumphed and won great favour with the crowd. The money
for her defence was subscribed in Glasgow twice over, and
even before she left the court she received several offers of
marriage.
CHAPTER IX.
POLICE MISTAKES.
The Saffron Hill Murder — Narrow Escape of Pellizioni — Two Men in Newgate
for Same Offence — Murder of Constable Cock — Habron and Peace — The
Edlingham Burglary — Arrest, Trial, and Conviction of Braimagan and
Murphy, on Evidence said to be Manufactured — Severity of Judge Manisty
— Eev. Mr. Percy Intervenes and Guesses at Guilt of Edgell and Another
Man, Richardson — New Trial — Second Convictions for Same Burglary —
Brannagan and Murphy Pardoned and Compensated — Survivors of Police
Prosecutors put on their Trial, but Acquitted — Lord Cochrane's Case — No
Doubt the Victim of Government Persecution — Alleged Facta and their
Explanation— Great Lawyers' Opinions — Tardy Eehabilitation of Lord
Cochrane.
No human institution is perfect, and the police are fallible
like the rest. They have in truth made mistakes, all of
them regrettable, many glaring, many tending to bring
discredit upon a generally useful and deserving body. If
they would freely confess their error they might, in most
cases, be forgiven when they go wrong ; but there have been
occasions when even the pressure of new and positive facts,
put forward in protest by still dissatisfied people, have hardly
elicited a reluctant admission that they have gone wrong.
One or two instances of this will now be adduced.
PELLIZIONI.
In the PelUzioni case, 1863-4, there might have been
a terrible failure of justice, as terrible as any hitherto re-
corded in criminal annals. This was a supposed murder
in a public-house at Saffron Hill, Clerkenwell. The district
then, as now, was much frequented by immigrant Italians
mostly of a low class, and they were often at variance with
their English neighbours. A fierce quarrel arose in this
tavern, and was followed by a deadly fight, in which a man
named Harrington was killed, and another, Rebbeck, was
TWO MEN GONVIOTED OF ONE CRIME. 213
mortally wounded. The police were speedily summoned,
and, on arrival, they found an Italian, Pellizioni by name,
lying across Harrington's prostrate body, in which life was
not yet extinct. Pellizioni was at once seized as the almost
obvious perpetrator of the foul deed. He stoutly proclaimed
his innocence, declaring that he had only come in to quell
the disturbance, that the murdered man and Rebbeck were
already on the ground, and that in the scufHe he had been
thrown on the top of them. But the facts were seemingly
against him, and he was duly committed for trial
The case was tried before Mr. Baron Martiu, and although
the evidence was extremely conflicting, the learned judge
said that he thought it quite correct and conclusive. He
summed up dead against the prisoner, and the jury brought
in a verdict of guilty, whereon Pellizioni was sentenced to
be hanged. This result was not accepted as satisfactory
by many thoughtful people, and the matter was taken up
by the press, notably by the Daily Telegraph. Some of
the condemned convict's compatriots became deeply inter-
ested in him. It was known that in the locality of Saffron
Hill he bore good repute as a singularly quiet and inoften-
sive man. Ultimately, a priest, who laboured among these
poor Italians, saved justice from official murder by bringing
one of his flock to confess that he and not Pellizioni had
struck the fatal blows. This was one Gregorio Mogni, but
he protested that he had acted only in self-defence.
Mogni was forthwith arrested, tried, and convicted of
the crime, with the strange result that now two men lay in
Newgate, both condemned, singly not jointly, of one and the
same crime. If Mogni had struck the blows, clearly Pelli-
zioni could not have done so. Moreover, a new fact was
elicited at Mogni's trial, and this was the production —
for the first time — of the weapon used. It was a knifes
and this knife had been found some distance from the
scene of the crime, where Pellizioni could not have thrown
it. And again, it was known and sworn to as Mogni's
knife, which, after stabbing the others, he had handed to
a friend to convey away.
214 POLICE MISTAKES.
The gravamen of the charge against the pohce was
that they had found the knife before Pellizioni was tried.
It was at once recognised all through Saffron Hill that it was
Mogni's knife, and with so much current gossip it was
hardly credible that the police were not also informed of
this fact. Yet, fearing to damage their case (a surely per-
missible inference), they kept back the knife at the first
trial. It was afterwards said to have been in court, but
it certainly was not produced, while it is equally certain
that its identification would have quite altered the issue,
and that Pelhzioni would not have been condemned. The
defence, in his case, went the length of declaring that to
this questionable proceeding the police added cross swear-
ing, and that some should have been indicted for perjury-
No doubt they stuck manfully to their chief and to each
other, but they hardly displayed the open and impartial mind
that should characterise all ofiicers of justice. In any case
it was not their fault that an innocent man was not hanged.
WILLIAM HABRON.
The strange circumstances which led to the righting of
this judicial wrong must give the Habron case pre-eminence
among others of the kind. The mistake arose from the
ungovernable temper of the accused, who threatened to shoot
a certain police officer, under the impression that he had
injured him.
In July, 1875, two brothers, William and John Habron,
were taken before the magistrates of Chorlton-cum-Hardy,
near Manchester, charged with drunkermess. Grave doubts,
were, however, expressed in court as to the identity of William
Habron. The chief witness, constable Cock, was very positive ;
ke knew the man, he said, because he had so often threatened
reprisals if interfered with. But the magistrates gave William
the benefit of the doubt, and discharged him. As he left the
court he passed Cock and said, " I'll do for you yet. I
shall shoot you before the night is out."
Others heard the threat, but thought little of it, among
them Superintendent Bent of the Manchester police. That
BABBON AND PEACE. 215
same night Bent was roused out -with the news that Cock had
been shot. He ran round to West Point, where the unfortu-
nate officer lay dying, and although unable to obtain from
him any distinct indication of the murderer, decided at once
that John Habron must be the man. He knew where the
brothers lodged, and taking with him a force of police, he
surrounded the house. " If it is anyone," said the master of
the house and employer of the accused, " it is WiUiam, he has
such an abominable temper." All three brothers — WiUiam,
John, and Frank Habron — were arrested in their beds and
taken to the police-station. In the morning a strict examina-
tion of the ground where Cock had been shot revealed a
number of footmarks. The Habrons' boots were brought to
the spot and found to fit these marks exactly.
The evidence now centred against William Habron par-
ticularly, who was identified as the man who had bought
some cartridges in a shop in Manchester. Both William and
John brought witnesses to prove an alibi, which failed on
cross-examination. Again they sought to prove that they
had gone home to bed at nine o'clock on the night of the
murder, while others swore to seeing them drinking in a
public-house at eleven p.m. which Cock must have passed soon
after that hour on his way to West Point, the spot where he
was found murdered. The fact of William Habron's animus
against the constable was elicited from several witnesses, but
what told most against the prisoners was the contradictory
character of the defence. WilUam Habron alone was con-
victed, and sentenced to penal servitude.
Years afterwards the notorious Charles Peace, when lying
under sentence of death in Leeds prison, made full confession
to the writer of these pages that it was he who had kiUed
constable Cock on the night in question.
THE EDLINGHAM BURGLARY, 1879.
Almost at the very time that William Habron was re-
ceiving tardy justice a new and still more grievous error was
being perpetrated in the west of England. The Edlingham
burglary case will always be remembered as a grave failure of
216 POLIOS MISTAKES.
justice, and not alone because the circumstantial evidence did
not appear sufficient, but because the police, in their anxiety
to secure conviction, went too far. As the survivors of the
Northumberland police force concerned in this case were
afterwards put upon their trial for conspiracy and acquitted,
they cannot be actually charged with manufacturing false
evidence, but it is pretty clear that facts were distorted, and
even suppressed, to support the police view.
The vicarage at Edlingham, a small vUlage near Ahiwick,
was broken into on the 7th February, 1879. The only occu-
pants of the house were Mr. Buckle, the vicar, his wife, an
invalid, his daughter, and four female servants. The daughter
gave the alarm about one a.m. that burglars were in the house,
and roused her father, a still sturdy old gentleman although
seventy-seven years of age, who slipped on a dressing-gown,
and seizing a sword he had by him, rushed downstairs, candle
in hand, to do battle for his possessions. He found two men
rifling the drawing-room, and thrust at them; one rushed
past him and made his escape, the other fired at the vicar and
wounded him. The same shot (it was a scatter gun) also
wounded Miss Buckle. This second burglar then jumped
out of the drawing-room window on to the soft mould of a
garden bed.
The alarm was given, the poHce and doctor summoned.
The latter attended to the wounds, which were serious, and
the poKce, under the orders of Superintendent Harkes, an
energetic officer, immediately took the necessary steps.
Officers were despatched to visit the domiciles of all the
poachers and other bad characters in Alnwick, while a watch
was set upon the roads into the town so that any suspicious
persons arriving might be stopped and searched. Then Mr.
Harkes drove over to EdUngham to view the premises. He
found the stiU open window in the drawing-room through
which the burglars had entered, and the room, all in con-
fusion, ransacked and rifled. One of the servants gave him
a chisel which she had found in an adjoining room, another
handed over a piece of newspaper picked up just outside the
dining-room door. The police-officer soon saw from the
FIRST ABBESTS. 217
marks made that the chisel had been used to prize open the
doors, and so soon as daylight came he found outside in the
garden the print of feet and the impress of hands and knees
upon the mould.
Meanwhile, the officers in Alnwick had ascertained that
two men, both of them known poachers, had been absent
from home during the night. Their names were Michael
Brannagan and Peter Murphy ; both were stopped on the
outskirts of the town about seven o'clock on the morning of
the 8th. There was nothing more against them at the
moment than their absence during the night, and after
having searched them the police let them go home. Bran-
nagan was quickly followed, and arrested as he was taking oft'
his dirty clogs. Murphy, who lodged with his sister, had
time to change his wet clothes and boots before the officers
appeared to take him. A girl to whom he was engaged,
fearing something was wrong, quickly examined the pockets
of his coat, and, finding some blood and fur, tore these
pockets out, and hid the coat. When the police returned
and asked for the clothes he had been wearing, she gave
them a jacket belonging to Peter's brother-in-law, an old
man named Eedpath.
At the police-station, the prisoners were stripped and
examined. There was no sign of a sword wound on either
of them, nor any hole or rent that might have been made
by a sword thrust through their clothes. That same day the
prisoners were taken to Edlingham, and everything arranged
as during the burglary. But Mr. Buckle could not identify
either of them, nor could Miss Buckle. The case against the
prisoners was certainly not strong at this stage. Moreover,
there was this strong presumption in their favour — that people
engaged in such an outrage as burglary and wounding with
intent would not have returned openly to their homes within
a few hours of their commission of the crime. When brought
before the magistrates for preliminary inquiry, the prisoners
found fresh evidence adduced against them. The police, in
the person of Mr. Harkes, had traced foot-marks going
through the grounds of the vicarage, and out on to the
218 POLICE MISTAKES.
Alnwick road. Plaster casts were produced of these foot-
marks, also the boots and clogs of the prisoners, and all were
found to correspond. The chisel found in the vicarage had
been traced to Murphy. His brother-in-law, old Eedpath,
had been induced to identify it as his property. This
admission had been obtained from Redpath by a clever ruse,
as the police called it, although they had really set a trap
for him, and he had owned to the chisel although it was not
his at all. Another damming fact had been elicited in the
discovery of a scrap of newspaper in the lining of Murphy's
coat (which, as we know, was not Murphy's, but Redpath's),
which fragment fitted exactly into the newspaper picked up
in the vicarage. This scrap of paper was unearthed from the
coat on the 16th February, by an altogether independent and
unimpeachable witness, Dr. Wilson, the medical gentleman
who attended the Buckles. It may be observed that the
coat itself had been in the possession of the police for just
nine days ; so had the original newspaper.
The evidence was deemed sufficient, and both prisoners
were fully committed for trial at the Newcastle spring assizes
of 1879. It is now known that certain facts, damaging to
the prosecution, had been brought to the notice of the police.
One was positive information that other persons had been
abroad from Alnwick that night ; another was a statement,
made with much force by one who had good reason to know,
that the wrong men had been arrested; while there were
witnesses who had met the prisoners soon after the burglary,
on the opposite side of Alnwick. On the other hand, fresh
evidence against them was forthcoming at the trial. This
was the discovery of a piece of fustian cloth with a button
attached, which had been picked up by a zealous police-
officer under the drawing-room window, a month after the
burglary. Here again was damaging evidence, for this scrap
of cloth was found to fit exactly into a gap in Brannagan's
trousers. It was said afterwards, at the trial of the police,
that they had purposely cut out the piece ; and it was proved
in evidence that a tailor of Alnwick, to whom the trousers
and piece were submitted, expressed his doubts that the
VERDICT OF GUILTY. 219
accident could have happened in jumping out of the window.
The tear would have been more irregular, the fitting-in less
exact. Moreover, the piece of cloth was perfectly fresh and
clean when found, whereas, if it had lain out for nearly a
month in the mud and snow, it must have become dark and
dirty, and hard at the edges, as corduroy goes when exposed
to the weather. As, however, the judge would not allow the
cloth and button to be put in evidence, they played no
important part in the case until the subsequent prosecution
of the police, except possibly in prejudicing the minds of the
jury against Brannagan and Murphy.
The prisoners were ably defended by Mr. Milvain, after-
wards a Q.C. His case was that Mr. Buckle (who had corrected
his first denial, and, later, had identified the men) was mis-
taken by the confusion and excitement of the burglarious
attack ; and that the police had actually conspired to prove
the case with manufactured evidence, so as to avoid the re-
proach of another undetected crime. In support of this grave
charge he argued that even if the footprints had not been
made deliberately with the boots and clogs in their possession,
there had been a great crowd of curious folk all around the
house after the crime, any of whom might have made the
marks. But a stiU stronger disproof was that there were no
distinct footmarks under the drawing-room window, only
vague and blurred impressions ; a statement borne out long
afterwards, when it was found that the real burglars had
taken the precaution to cover their feet with sacking. Again,
the evidence of the newspaper was altogether repudiated on
the grounds that it had not been sooner detected, and had
been put where it was found with maUcious intention.
Lastly, several witnesses swore that they had never seen any
chisel such as that produced in the possession of old Redpath ;
while as to the gun, it was denied that either prisoner had
ever possessed any firearms. Their poaching was for rabbits,
and they always used a clever terrier.
The judge (Manisty) summed up strongly against the
prisoners, but the jury did not so easily agree as to their
verdict. They deliberated for three hours, and at last
220 POLICE MISTAKES.
delivered a verdict of guilty, whereupon the judge com-
mended them, and proceeded to pass the heaviest sentence
in his power, short of death. He sought in vain, he said,
" for any redeeming circumstance " that would justify him
in reducing the sentence ; feeling it his duty to deter others
from committing so grave a crime. Had Mr. or Miss Buckle
succumbed to their wounds, he must have condemned the
prisoners to death. It is clear, then, that Judge Manisty
was only saved by mere accident from making as grievous a
mistake as that into which any of his predecessors had fallen.
Brannagan and Murphy were removed from court pro-
testing their innocence. They went into penal servitude
with the same disclaimer.
Seven years dragged themselves along, and there seemed
no near prospect of release, " life " convicts being detained
as a rule for at least twenty years. But now, by some
unseen working of Providence, a Hght was about to be
let in on the case. It came to the knowledge of a young
solicitor in Alnwick that a certain Greorge Edgell had
been " out " on the night of the Edlingham burglary,
and that when he came in, a little before the general
alarm, his wife had begged their feUow-lodgers to say
nothing about his absence. Mr. Percy, Vicar of St. Paul's,
Alnwick, through whose unstinting exertions justice at last
was done, knew Edgell and questioned him, openly taxing
him with complicity in the now nearly forgotten crime.
Edgell at first stoutly denied the imputation, but seemed
greatly agitated and upset. Added to this, it was stated
authoritatively that Harkes, the police superintendent,
who was now dead, admitted that he had been wrong, but
that it was too late to recall the mistake.
There was some strong counter influence at work, and
Mr. Percy found presently that another man, named
Charles Eichardson, was constantly hanging about Edgell.
The reason came out when at last EdgeU made fuU con-
fession of the burglary, and it was seen that this Richard-
son was his accomplice. They had been out on a poach-
ing expedition, but had had little success. Then Richardson
THE TRUTH COMES OUT. 221
proposed to try the' vicarage, and they forced their way in.
Richardson used a chisel which he had picked up in an out-
house to prize open the windows and doors. All through he
had been the leader and moving spirit. He it was who
had first thought of the burglary, who had carried oif
the only bit of spoil worth having. Miss Buckle's gold
watch, and this, by a curious Nemesis, afforded one of the
best proofs of his guilt. A seal or trinket had been
attached to the chain, and years after, the jeweller to
whom he had sold it came forward as a witness against
him. The watch itself he had been unable to dispose of,
he said, and he threw it into the Tyne. Eichardson was
a great burly rufl&an of great height, broad shoulders, and
possessed of enormous strength; a quarrelsome desperado,
who had already been tried for the murder of a pohceman
but acquitted for want of sufficient legal proof.
The matter was now taken up by Mr. Milvain, Q.C,, who,
it will be remembered, defended Brannagan and Murphy,
and who had become recorder of Durham. At his earnest
request, backed by strong local representations, the Home
Secretary at length ordered a commission of inquiry,
admitting that the circumstances of the case were " most
singular and unprecedented." A solicitor of JSTewcastle
was appointed to investigate the whole matter, and the
fresh facts, with Edgell's confession, were set before
him. On his report the conviction was quashed. It
was now seen that the evidence which had condemned
those innocent men to a life sentence was flimsy, and
much of it open to doubt. All the weak points have
been already set forth, and it is enough to state that
Brannagan and Murphy were forthwith released and re-
turned in triumph to Northumberland. The Treasury
adjudged them the sum of £800 each, as some slight com-
pensation for their seven years spent in durance vile. The
money was safely invested for them in the hands of
trustees. Brannagan at once obtained employment as a
wheelwright, the handicraft he had acquired in prison,
and Murphy, who was a prison-taught baker, adopted that
222 PULIGE MISTAKES.
trade when he married the girl Agnes Simm, who had
tried to befriend him in regard to the coat on the morn-
ing after the burglary.
The real offenders were in due course put upon their trial
at Newcastle, before Mr. Baron Pollock, found guilty, and
sentenced each to five years' penal servitude. A petition,
with upwards of three thousand signatures, had been presented
to the Home Secretary, praying for a mitigation of sentence
on the ground that Edgell's voluntary confession had
righted a grievous wrong. The reply was in the negative,
and this decision can no doubt be justified. But it is im-
possible to leave this question of sentence without com-
menting upon the extraordinary difference in the views
of two of her Majesty's judges in dealing with precisely
the same offence. There is no more glaring instance on
record of the iuequality in the sentences that may be
passed than that of Mr. Justice Manisty inflicting " life,"
where Mr. Baron Pollock thought five years sufiicient.
Another trial was inevitable before this unfortunate
affair came to an end. The conduct of the police had
been so strongly impugned that nothing less than a judicial
investigation would satisfy the pubUc mind. A Scotland
Yard detective, the well - known and highly intelhgent
Inspector Butcher, had been sent down to Northumber-
land to verify, if possible, strong suspicions, and hunt up
aU the facts. He worked upon the problem for a couple
of months, and a criminal prosecution was ordered on his
report. Harkes was now dead, but four other constables,
Harrison, Sprott, Gair, and Chambers, were charged with
deliberately plotting the conviction of two innocent men.
They were accused of having made false plaster casts of
footprints ; of having entrapped Redpath into a mistaken
recognition of the chisel; of tearing a piece of the news-
paper found in the vicarage and feloniously placing it in
the lining of what they believed to be Murphy's coat,
and lastly, of tearing or cutting out a piece of fustian
from Brannagan's trousers, which they placed in the
vicarage garden, to show that Brannagan had been there
POLICEMEN ARRAIGNED. 223
and had jumped through the window. The real burglars,
Edgell and Richardson, were brought in their convict
garb to give evidence against the policemen by detailing
their proceedings on the night of the crime. Their story
was received with respect, coming as it did from men who
were suifering imprisonment on their own confession. It
was credibly believed that Richardson had picked up the
chisel, all the probabilities corroborated their statement
that they had covered up their feet with sacking. The
defence was that the confession was all a lie, and that
the men who made it were worthless characters. In sum-
ming up, Mr. Justice Denman showed that the evidence
of deliberate conspiracy was wanting, and that the police
might be believed to have been honestly endeavouring to
do their duty in securing a conviction.
The verdict was "Not Guilty,'' and was generally
approved, more perhaps on negative grounds of want of proofs
than of positive innocence. But the result was no doubt
influenced by the fact that the principal person in the
plot, if plot there was, had passed beyond human justice.
The chief mover in the prosecution was Superintendent
Harkes, and the rest were acting at his instigation.
LORD COCHRANE.
The prosecution and conviction of Lord Cochrane in 1814
may weU be classed under this head, for it was distinctly an
error of la haute 'police, of the Government, which as the
head of all police, authorises the pursuit of all wrong-doing,
and sets the criminal law in motion against all supposed
offenders. It has now been generally accepted that the trial
and prosecution of Lord Cochrane (afterwards the Earl of Dun-
donald) was a gross case of judicial error. He was charged
with having conspired to cause a rise in the public Funds
by disseminating false news. There were, no doubt, sus-
picious circumstances connecting him with the frauds of
which he was wrongfully convicted, but he had a good
answer to all. His conviction and severe sentence after a trial
that showed the bitter animosity of the judge (EUenborough)
224 POLIOB MISTAKES.
against a political foe, caused a strong revulsion of feeling
in the public mind, and it was generally believed that he had
not had fair play. The law, indeed, fell upon him heavily.
He was found guilty, and sentenced to pay a fine of £500,
to stand in the piUory, and to be imprisoned for twelve
months. These penalties involved the forfeiture of his naval
rank, and he had risen by many deeds of conspicuous
gallantry to be one of the foremost officers in the British
navy. His name was erased from the list of Knights of the
Bath, and he was socially disgraced. How he lived to be
rehabilitated and restored to his rank and dignities is the best
proof of his wrongful conviction.
The story as told by Lord Cochrane himself in his
affidavits will best describe what happened. Having just put
a new ship in commission, H.M.8. Tonnant, he was preparing
her for sea with a convoy. He was an inventive genius, and
he had recently patented certain lamps for the use of the ships
sailing with him. He had gone into the city one morning,
the 21st February, 1814, to supervise their manufacture, when
a servant followed him with a note. It had been brought to
his house by a military officer in uniform, whose name was
not known, nor could it be deciphered from the illegible
scrawl of the letter. Lord Cochrane was expecting news from
the Peninsula, where a brother of his lay desperately wounded,
and he sent back word to his house that he would come to
see the officer at the earHest possible moment. When he
returned he found a person he barely knew, who gave the
name of Raudon de Berenger, and told a strange tale.
He was a prisoner for debt, he said, within the rules of the
King's Bench, and he had come to Lord Cochrane to implore
him to release him from his difficulties and carry him to
America in his ship. His request was refused — it could not be
granted, indeed, according to naval rules ; and de Berenger was
dismissed. But before he left he urged piteously that to return
to the King's Bench prison in full uniform would attract
suspicion. It was not stated how he had left it, but he no
doubt implied that he had escaped and changed into uniform
somewhere. Why he did not go back to the same place to
BE BEBENGEB'S STOBY. 225
resume his plain clothes did not appear. Lord Cochrane only
knew that in answer to his urgent entreaty he lent him some
clothes. The room was at that moment littered with clothes,
which were to be sent on board the Tonnant, and he unsus-
piciously gave de Berenger a '• civilian's hat and coat." This
was a capital part of the charge against Lord Cochrane.
De Berenger had altogether lied about himself. He
had not come from within the rules of the King's Bench
but from Dover, where he had been seen the previous
night at the Ship hotel. He was then in uniform, and
pretended to be an aide-de-camp to Lord Cathcart, the bearer
of important despatches. He made no secret of the transcen-
dent news he brought. Bonaparte had been killed by the
Cossacks, Louis XVIII. proclaimed, and the allied armies were
on the point of occupying Paris. To give greater publicity to
the intelligence, he sent it by letter to the port-admiral at
Deal, to be forwarded to the government in London by means
of the semaphore telegraph. The effect of this startling
news was to send up stocks ten per cent., and many
speculators who sold on the rise realised enormous sums.
De Berenger, still in uniform, followed in a post-chaise,
but on reaching London he dismissed it, took a hackney
coach, and drove straight to Lord Cochrane's. He had some
shght acquaintance with his lordship, and had already
petitioned him for a passage to America, an application
which had been refused. There was nothing extraordinary,
then, in de Berenger's visit. His lordship, again, claimed
that de Berenger's call on him, instead of going straight to
the Stock Exchange to commence operations, indicated that
he had weakened in his plot, and did not see how to
carry it through. "Had I been his confederate," says
Lord Cochrane, in his affidavit, " it is not within the
bounds of credibility that he would have come in the first
instance to my house, and waited two hours for my return
home, in place of carrying out the plot he had undertaken,
or that I should have been occupied in perfecting my lamp
invention for the use of the convoy, of which I was in a
few days to take charge, instead of being on the only spot
226 POLICE MISTAKES.
where any advantage to be derived from the Stock Exchange
hoax could be realised, had I been a participator in it. Such
advantage must have been immediate, before the truth came
out ; and to have reaped it, had I been guilty, it was necessary
that I should not lose a moment. It is still more improbable
that being aware of the hoax, I should not have speculated
largely for the special risk of that day."
We may take Lord Cochrane's word, as an officer and
a gentleman, that he had no guilty knowledge of de
Berenger's scheme; but here again the luck was against
him, for it came out in evidence that his brokers had
sold stock for him on the day of the fraud. Yet the operation
was not an isolated one made on that occasion only. Lord
Cochrane declared that he had for some time past anticipated
a favourable conclusion to the war. " I had held shares
for the rise," he said, " and had made money by sales. The
stock I held on the day of the fraud was less than I usually
had, and it was sold under an old order given to my brokers
to sell at a certain price. It had necessarily to be sold."
It was clear to Lord Cochrane's friends — who, indeed, and
rightl}', held him to be incapable of stooping to fraud — that
had he contemplated it he would have been a larger holder
of stock on the day in question, when he actually held
less than usual. On these grounds alone they were of opinion
he should have been absolved from the charge.
Great lawyers like Lords Campbell, Brougham, and
Erskine have commented on this case, aU of them ex-
pressing their belief in Lord Cochrane's innocence. The
late Chief Baron, Sir Fitzroy Kelly, in criticising the trial,
ends by expressing his regret that " we cannot blot out this
dark page from our legal and judicial history." These are
the opinions of legal luminaries in the fullest mental vigour
and acumen at the time of the trial. They were intimately
acquainted with all the facts, and we may accept their judg-
ment that a great and grievous wrong had been done to a
nobleman of high character, who had not spared himself in the
service of the State. Their view was tardily supported by the
Government in restoring Lord Cochrane to his rightful position.
OAPTAIFS OF OEIME.
CHAPTER X.
SOME FAMOUS SWINDLERS.
Eecurrenoe of Criminal Typea — Heredity and Congenital Instinct — The Jukes
Family — Criminal Tendencies Transmitted — Sharpers and Swindlers "Work
on Much the Same Lines — Hatfield — Anthelme Collet, a product of French
Kevolutionary Epoch — Unparalleled Caieer of Fraud — Exposed at Length
and Sent to Galleys — Always Possessed of Funds to the Last — Cognard
in Spain — Count Pontis de St. Hel&ne, who Fought in Spain with French
Armies, and Gained High llank — Betrayed by Old Convict Comrade —
Eelapses into Crime, and Sent to Galleys for Life — Major Semple, an
English Officer, who served in American War — His many Vicissitudes in
Foreign Armies, Thief and Begging-Letter Writer — Transported to Botany
Bay.
THE regular recurrence of certain crimes and the re-
appearance of particular types of criminals has been
often remarked upon by those who deal with judicial records ;
the fact is established by general experience and is capable
of abundant proof It is to be explained in part by
heredity. The child follows the father, and on a stronger
influence than that of mere imitativeness ; and these trans-
mitted tendencies to crime can be illustrated by many well-
authenticated cases, where whole famihes have been criminals
generation after generation. There is the famous, or infamous,
family of the Jukes, a prolific race of criminals, starting from
a vagabond father and five of his disreputable daughters.
The Jukes descendants in less than a hundred years
numbered twelve hundred individuals, all of them more
or less evincing the criminal taint. These facts have been
228 SOME FAMOUS SWINDLERS.
brought out by the patient investigation of Mr. Dugdale, an
American scientist. An old case is recorded of a Yorkshire
family, the DunhiUs, the head of which spread terror through
the East Biding as the chief of a band of burglars. This
Snowdon Dunhill, by name, was convicted in 1813 for robbing
a granary, and sentenced to seven years' transportation. He
returned from the Antipodes to earn a second sentence ot
exile, and his son was at the same time sentenced to trans-
portation. One of his sisters. Rose Dunhill, was twice im-
prisoned for larceny; another, Sarah, had been repeatedly
convicted for picking pockets, and was finally sent across the
water for seven years. It may be incidentally stated as
showing the contamination of evil that nearly all who came
into association with the Dunhills felt the baneful influence
of the family. Dunhill's wife was transported ; so were Rose
Dunhill's two husbands and Sarah's three.
In 1821 a wide district of Northern France known as that
of Santerre, between Peronne and Montdidier, was the scene of
numerous and repeated crimes. There was no mystery about
their perpetrators ; the thieves and their victims lived side by
side, yet the latter only spoke of them with bated breath, and
shrank from denouncing them to the police. At last the
authorities interposed and arrested the malefactors, who were
tried and disposed of in due course of law. It Avas found that
they were all of one famUy, which had started originally in
one village and ramified gradually into neighbouring districts.
Eleven years later, in 1832, a second generation had come to
manhood, and these true sons of their fathers perpetrated
exactly the same offences. Yet again, in 1852, a fresh wave of
depredation passed over the district, and again the same
families were responsible for the crimes. The last manifesta-
tion was perhaps the worst of alL Thefts, arson, and murder
had been of repeated occurrence, but no arrests were made
until a knife found in the possession of a villager was identified
as one of a lot stolen from a travelling cheap-Jack. The man
who had it was a Hugot. Through him others were impli-
cated, a Villet and a Lemaire. These three names, Hugot,
Villet, and Lemaire, were fuU of sinister significance in the
HEREBITARY CRIME. 229
neighbourhood, and recalled a long series of dark deeds, per-
petrated by the ancestors of these very criminals.
Lombroso has collected a number of cases showing how
the criminal tendency has reappeared in successive genera-
tions. DumoUard, the wholesale murderer of women, was the
son of a murderer ; Patetot, another murderer, was the grand-
son and great-grandson of a criminal. There was a family
named Nathan, who on one particular day united fourteen
members in the same goal. These Nathans were a band of
thieves entirely made up of relations, parents, and children,
brothers and cousins. It has been observed that the most
notorious Italian brigands regularly inherited the business
from their parents ; we shall see presently how the Coles and
Youngers of the Western States of America were all closely
related ; many of the most desperate members of the Neapoli-
tan Camorra were brothers. There is a village in the south
of Italy which has been a nest and focus of criminals for
centuries. The natives are mostly related to each other by
intermarriage, and aU seem bound by tradition to prey upon
their fellows. Again, in the Madras Presidency, at Trichino-
poly, a whole caste of thieves existed, one and aU vowed to
various kinds of crime, and the practice of crime by certain
Indian tribes generation after generation is well known to
Indian poHce officers.
That the criminal virus is widely disseminated is proved
by its unfailing reappearance in all times and places. The
same sort of crimes have been and are being continually
committed, with no greater difference than is due to surround-
ings, opportunities, individual idiosyncrasies, the changing
circumstances that accompany the varying conditions of life.
I propose to show now from a number of selected cases how
thieves, swindlers, depredators, murderers, and aU kinds and
classes of criminals who make mankind their prey, have been
reproduced again and again. Men and women have been
found under the same baleful impulse, showing greater or less
ingenuity, but working on the same lines. The sharper follows
out his long career of successful fraud and imposture century
after century. Such men as Hatfield, Collet, Coster, Sheridan,
230 SOME FAMOUS SWINDLERS.
Benson, Shinburn, Allmeyer, are the seemingly inevitable
recurrence of one and the same type. Jenny Diver and the
German Princess have had their later manifestations in
Mrs. Gordon Baillie, La "Comtesse," Sandor, and Bertha
Heyman. Gain has innumerable descendants ; nothing stops
the murderer when the savage instinct is in the ascendant ;
he feels no remorse when the deed is done. I shall close
this part with a short account of one or two of those mis-
creants who might otherwise escape classification, and whose
very names are synonymous with great crimes — Troppmann,
Bichel, DumoUard, De TourviUe, and Peace.
HATFIELD.
One of the earliest swindlers on record was John Hatfield,
a youth of low origin, who was yet so gifted by nature, had
such mother wit and such a persuasive tongue, that he suc-
ceeded in passing himself off as a man of rank and fortune
without detection or punishment for a long series of years.
He was born of poor parents in Cheshire, in 1769, and on
reaching manhood became the commercial traveller of a linen-
draper, working the north of England. On one of his rounds
he met with a young lady, a distant connection of the ducal
house of Rutland, who had a small fortune of her own, and,
using his honeyed tongue, for the first time apparently, suc-
ceeded in inducing her to marry him. The happy pair
proceeded then to London, where they lived on their capital,
the wife's dowry, some £1,500, which was quickly squandered
in extravagance and riotous living. It was impossible to
keep this up, and Hatfield again retired to the country,
where he presently deserted his wife, leaving her with her
children in complete destitution. He made his way once
more to London, and, boasting much of his relationship with
the Manners family, got credit from confiding tradesmen,
until the bubble burst, and he was sent to a debtors' prison.
About this time his wife died in great penury. Hatfield soon
afterwards, by a series of artful misrepresentations, obtained
money from the Duke of Rutland, who secured his release.
HATFIELD. 231
In 1735 the Duke was appointed Lord Lieutenant of
Ireland, and Hatfield, hoping to find fresh openings for
exercising his ingenuity, determined to follow him to Dublin.
Here he gave the landlord of a good hotel a plausible excuse
for his arriving without servants, carriages, or horses, and for
some time lived very pleasantly, being treated with much
deference as a relation of the Viceroy. At the end of the
month the landlord presented his bill, and was referred to
Hatfield's agent, who, strangely enough, was " out of town.'
When the bill was again presented, Hatfield gave the address
of a gentleman living in the castle ; this gentleman, how-
ever, declined to be answerable, whereupon Hatfield was
served with a writ, and conveyed at once to the Marshalsea
in Dublin. He was there able to win the commiseration of
the gaoler and his wife by the old story of his high con-
nections, and his deep anxiety that his Excellency should
hear of his temporary embarrassments. By means of these
lies he was lodged in most comfortable quarters, and was
treated with every respect ; and upon his making further
application to the Duke of Kutland, his Grace again weakly
agreed to pay his debts if he would promise to leave Ireland
immediately.
Hatfield, on his return to England, visited Scarborough
and renewed his fraudulent operations, but he was discovered
and thrown into prison, where he remained for eight and
a half years. At the end of that time he was released
through the intervention of a Miss Nation, a Devonshire
lady, who paid his debts for him, and afterwards gave him
her hand in marriage. He now posed as a reformed character,
and lived an honest life for just three years, during which
he became partner in a firm at Tiverton. Then he offered
himself as parliamentary candidate for Queenborough, but his
past misdeeds had been too notorious, and the constituency
would not elect him. Disappointed and balked in his
attempt, he straightway left his home and family, and once
more disappeared.
In 1802 he came to the surface under the assumed name
of Colonel the Hon. Alexander Augustus Hope, brother to
282 SOME FAMOUS SWINDLERS.
Lord Hopetoun, and member for Linlithgow. Hatfield was
staying in the Lake district, at the Queen's Hotel, Keswick,
and near here, at Buttermere, he met a village beauty, Mary
Robinson, whose parents owned a public-house on the shores
of the lake. He was not long in winning her affections.
But the double-faced scoundrel at this moment was paying
attention to another young lady, the rich ward of an Irish
gentleman, Mr. Murphy, who, with his family, was resident in
the same hotel. This suit prospered. Hatfield's proposal
was accepted, and communications were opened with Lord
Hopetoun. The villain allowed none of the letters to reach
their destination. The day was even fixed for the marriage.
At the last moment the bridegroom did not appear, but Mr.
Murphy received a letter from him at Buttermere, under
his name of Colonel Hope, asking him to cash a cheque
or draft which he enclosed, drawn on a Liverpool banker.
The money was obtained, and sent to Buttermere, but
Colonel Hope continued to be missing, until the news arrived
that he had run off with Mary Robinson. It never transpired
why he preferred this sweet girl, whose charms were after-
wards sung by Wordsworth, to his other well-dowered partie.
Some do him the justice to say that he really loved Mary
Robinson ; others that, already fearing detection and exposure,
he thought it wise to disappear.
The exposure was indeed close at hand. Mr. Murphy
wrote direct to Lord Hopetoun, and soon heard that the
supposed Colonel Hope was an impostor. The draft on the
Liverpool bankers also proved to be a forgery, and many
letters fraudulently franked by Hatfield as an M.P. were
brought up against him. After his marriage with Mary
Robinson he had gone to Scotland, but had cut short his
wedding trip to return to Buttermere, where he was arrested
on several charges. Hatfield dexterously made his escape
from the constable who took him, and was long lost sight of
At last, after many wanderings, he was captured in the neigh-
bourhood of Swansea, and sent to the gaol of Brecon. He
tried to pass off as one Tudor Henry, but was easily identified^
and on his removal to Carlisle was tried for his life. Sentence
A PBOnUGT OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION: 233
of death was passed upon him, and he suffered on the
3rd September, 1803. "Notwithstanding his various and
complicated enormities," says a contemporary chronicle, " his
untimely end excited considerable commiseration. His
manners were extremely polished and insinuating, and he
was possessed of qualities which might have rendered him
an ornament to society."
COLLET.
Anthelme Collet stands out in the long list of swindlers
as one of the most insinuating and accomplished scoundrels
that ever took to criminal ways. A number of curious
stories have survived of his ingenuity, his daring, and his
long, almost unbroken, successes. He is a product of the
French revolutionary epoch, and found his account in the
general dislocation of society that prevailed in France and
her subject countries in the commencement of the present
century.
Collet's parents lived in the department of the Aisne,
where he was born in 1785. From his childhood up he was
noted as a consummate liar and cunning thief, and to cure
him of his evil propensities he was sent to an uncle in Italy,
a priest, who kept him by his side for three years, but made
nothing of him. Young Collet then returned to France, and
entered the military school at Fontainebleau, from which he
graduated as sous-heutenant, and passed on to a regiment
in garrison at Brescia. Here he soon made friends with the
monks of a neighbouring Capuchin monastery, and, preferring
their society to that of his comrades, became the subject of
constant gibes. Exasperated by this, and chafing at the
restraints of military discipline, he resolved to desert. A
wound received in a duel strengthened him in this deter-
mination. He was sent for cure to hospital, that of San
Giacomo, in Naples, and there met a Dominican monk
chaplain of the order, who persuaded him to take the cowl.
Collet also earned the gratitude of a sick mate, a major in
the French army, whom he seems to have nursed, but who
was so seriously wounded he did not recover. At his death
234 SOME FAMOUS SWINDLERS.
the major left Collet all Ms possessions — 3,000 francs in
money, a gold watch, and two very valuable rings.
Collet, in due course, entered as a novice with the brothers
of St. Pierre, and was soon so high in the good graces of his
companions that the prior appointed him queteur, the
brother selected ' to seek alms and subscriptions for his
convent. The young man's greed could not resist the
handling of money; he quickly succumbed to temptation,
misappropriated the funds he collected, and returned to the
convent from his first mission several thousand francs short
in his accounts. Fearing detection, he made up his mind
to disappear. One day, talking with his friend the syndic of
the town, he succeeded in securing a number of passports
signed in blank. Then he went to the prior, and informed
him that he had come into a large fortune, but had hesitated
to claim it as he was a deserter from his regiment. If the
prior would protect him he would now do so, and on this
he was permitted to go to Naples, armed with introductions
to a bank, and other credentials from the convent.
At Naples, Collet's first act was to obtain 22,000 francs
from the bankers by false pretences, and, being in funds, he
threw off his monkish garb, assumed those of a high-born
gentleman, and, fiUing up one of his passports in the name,
of the Marquis de Dada, started vid Capua for Rome.
En route he again changed his identity, having become
possessed of the papers of one Tolosan, a sea captain, and
native of Lyons, who had been wrecked on the ItaHan coast
Some say that Collet had picked up Tolosan's pocket-book
others that he had stolen it. In any case, he called himself
by that name on arrival at Rome, and. as a Lyonnais,
sought the protection of a venerable French priest also from
Lyons, who was acquainted with the Tolosan family, and
through whom he was presented to the Cardinal Archbishop
Fesch, the uncle of the Emperor Napoleon.
He now became an inmate of the cardinal's palace,
and was introduced by his patron everywhere, even to the
Pope. Under such good auspices he soon began to prey
upon his new friends, before whom he put the many
GHAMELEON-LIKE CHANGES. 235
schemes that filled his inventive mind, and from most of
■whom he extracted considerable sums. He persuaded a
rich merchant clothier to endorse a bill for 60,000 francs ;
he borrowed another sum of 30,000 francs from the cardinal
archbishop's bankers; he bought jewellery on credit to
the value of 60,000 francs from one tradesman and de-
frauded many others; even the cardinal's personal servants
were laid under contribution. A more daring theft was
a number of blank appointments to the priesthood which
he abstracted from the cardinal's bureau, and with them
a bull to create a bishop in partibus. Then he decamped
from Rome.
His thefts and frauds were soon discovered, and the
papal police put upon his track. He had left Rome on
an ecclesiastical mission, and in company with other priests,
one of whom was informed of his real character, and
desired to secure him. But Collet, having some suspicion,
forestalled him by making off before he could be arrested.
The place to which he fled was Mondovi, where he set
up as a young man of fashion, and was soon a centre of
the pleasure-loving, with whom he spent his money freely.
His next idea was to organise amateur theatricals, and he
forthwith constituted himself the wardrobe-keeper of the
company. A number of fine costumes were ordered, among
them the robes of a bishop and other ecclesiastical garments,
the uniforms of a French general officer and of French
diplomatists, with all the accessories, ribbons, medals, deco-
rations, feathers, and gold lace. On the night preceding
the first dress rehearsal he again decamped, carrying off
most of the " properties " and clothes.
Now he assumed the garb of a Neapolitan priest who
was flying into Switzerland from French oppression. He
fabricated the necessary papers and was fuUy accepted by
the Bishop of Sion, who appointed him to a cure of souls
in a parish close by. Here he discharged all the clerical
functions, confessing, marrying, baptizing, burying the dead,
teaching youth, visiting the sick, consoling the poor and
needy. He also started a scheme for restoring the parish
236 SOME FAMOUS SWINDLERS.
church, and collected 30,000 francs for the good work,
promising to make up any balance required from his own
purse. The building was set on foot, an architect engaged,
and many purchases made by the false curd, who was, of
course, treasurer of the fund. Collet finished up by paying
a visit to a neighbouring town, where he bought reUgious
pictures, candelabra, and church plate, all on credit, and
despatched them to his parish. But he proceeded himself
with the building money to Strasburg, driving post.
Using many different disguises, and playing many parts,
he travelled from Strasburg into Germany, and then by
a circuitous route through the Tyrol into Italy, making for
Turin, where he forged a bill of exchange for 10,000
francs, and got the money. But the fraud was detected,
and he had to fly, this time towards Nice. Now he filled
in the bull appointing to a bishopric (which he had stolen
from Cardinal Fesch), and created himself Bishop of Mon-
ardan, by name Dominic Pasqualini. This gained him a
cordial welcome from the Bishop of Nice, who invited him
to his summer palace, where all the clergy were assembled
to be presented to him. His eminence wished the sham
bishop to examine his deacons, but Collet avoided the
danger by saying there could be no need, he was sure
that his brother of Nice had not ordained " ignorant asses."
Yet the other was not to be entirely put off, and at his
earnest request Collet put on his episcopal robes, stolen from
the amateurs of Mondovi, and ordained thirty deacons, after
which he preached a sermon, one, fortunately, he had by
heart of Bourdaloue's.
The rdle of bishop was a little too dangerous, so Collet
abandoned the violet apron and went on to Paris as a
private person. On arrival he came across the friend who
had helped to his first appointment in the army, and being
well provided with funds, he renewed his acquaintance by
giving this friend a sumptuous dinner. Through this friend's
good offices he was reappointed to the army, this time to
the 47th of the line in garrison at Brest, and CoUet started
for the west to join his regiment. But he does not seem
BECOMES COUNT OF BOBBOMEO. 237
to have got further than L'Orient. He, however, perpetrated
a number of robberies by the way, and now resolved to break
ground in an entirely new and distant quarter. Bringing
his inventiveness to bear, he fabricated papers appointing
himself inspector-general and general administrator of the
army of Catalonia; his new name and title being Charles
Alexander, Count of Borromeo.
He took the road to Fr^jus on the Riviera, not the
most direct to Catalonia, and was everywhere received with
great honour on presenting his credentials. Thence, with
an imposing escort, he passed on to Draguignan, and
appeared in full uniform, covered with decorations, be-
fore the astonished war commissaries, explaining that he
had the Emperor's express commands to undertake an
inquiry into their accounts. At the same time he appointed
a staff, aides-de-camp, secretaries, and attendants, and soon
had a suite of some twenty people. Amongst the papers
he had forged was one which empowered him to draw
upon the mihtary chest for the equipment of his army of
Catalonia. At Marseilles he had made use of this to secure
130,000 francs, and at Nismes he laid hands on 300,000
more. Whenever he arrived in a garrison he reviewed the
troops, and conducted himself as a grand personage.
At Montpeher his luck turned. He had begun well ;
a crowd of suppliants fell at his feet, including the prefet,
to whom Collet promised his influence and a strong recom-
mendation for the grand cross of the Legion of Honour.
But at this moment the bubble burst. The prefecture was
suddenly surrounded by the gendarmes, a police officer entered
the salle-^- manger and arrested Collet as he sat at table
with the prefet and his staff. No fault could well be found
with those whom Collet had duped, but the swindler him-
self was in momentary fear of being shot. He was, however,
kept in confinement awaiting superior orders.
One day the prefet, still chafing at the trick played
upon him, told his guests at dinner that he would allow them
to see this bold and unscrupulous person, whose name was
on every tongue. He accordingly sent for Collet, who was
238 SOME FAMOUS SWINDLERS.
brought from the prison to the prefecture, escorted by the
gendarmes. While waiting to be exhibited he was lodged
in the serving-room next the dining-room, the two sentries
on the door outside. Here he found, to his surprise and
dehght, a full suit of white, the costume of a Tnarmiton,
a cook's assistant. He quickly assumed the disguise, and
taking up the nearest dish, walked into the dining-room,
through it, and out of the prefecture. He was soon missed,
and a great hue and cry was raised through the country,
but Collet all the time had found a hiding-place close by
the house.
When the alarm had ceased, he slipped away, and leaving
Montpelier, made his way to Toulouse, where he cashed
another forged bill of exchange, now for 5,000 francs. With
the funds obtained he travelled northward, but was followed
from Toulouse, for the forgery was quickly discovered. When
arrested they carried him to Grenoble, and there he was
tried for the forgery. His sentence was to five years'
travaux forces, and exposure in the pillory {carcan).
Before long he was recognised at Grenoble by one of those
whom he had nominated to his staff at Frejus, and being
tried again he was now sent to the Bagne of Brest. Collet
passed five years in this prison, and somehow contrived to
live more or less comfortably as a galley slave. He was
always in funds, but how he obtained them, or where he
kept them, was a profound mystery to the very last. With
the money thus at his disposal he purchased extra food,
he bought the assistance of his fellows to relieve him of
the severer toils, and no doubt bribed his keepers. He
became so fat and round-faced, and generally so benign-
ant and smiling, that he was nicknamed by his comrades
of the chain, " Monsieur I'eveque." Numberless attempts
were made to discover the sources of his wealth ; he was
supposed to have secreted a private store of precious stones,
but, although he was watched and frequently searched him-
self, they were never found. He was free-handed, too, with
his money, gave freely to other convicts, and was much
respected and esteemed by them. It is told of one who
AN AMIABLE GONVIGT. 239
committed a murder in the Bagne that, when permitted to
address his comrades before execution, after acknowledging
their general kindness to himself, he added, " I wish especially
to thank Monsieur Collet." He did not live to return to
liberty, and died, only a few days before the end of his term,
consumed with despair at ending his days at the Bagne, but
carried with him the secret of his wealth. Nine louis d'or
only were found in the collar of his waistcoat ; what had become
of the rest no one could tell. He never had money in the
hands of the prison paymaster, he was never found in the
possession of more money than he was entitled to receive
as prison earnings, and, yet, when he wanted it to gratify
any expensive taste, to buy white shirts, snuff, books, wine,
and toothsome food, the gold flowed from his hand as if
by legerdemain.
COGNAED.
Collet's adventures are outdone by those of Cognard, an
ex-conyict, who, in the topsy-turvy times of the First Empire,
came to be colonel of a regiment, wearing many decorations
and having a good record of service in the field.
Pierre Cognard, when serving a sentence of fourteen years
in the Bagne of Brest, made his escape, and passed into Spain,
where he joined an irregular corps under the Guerilla Nina,
when he gained the cross of Alcantara. While in garrison
in one of the towns of Calatonia, he made the acquaintance
of a person who had been a servant to Count Pontis de Ste.
H^lene, recently deceased. This servant had, by some means
or other, laid hands upon the Count's titles of nobility, and
handed them over to Cognard, who forthwith adopted the
name and title without question. Despite his antecedents,
he appears to have displayed great strictness in dealing with
public money, and on one occasion denounced two French
oiEcers whom he caught in malpractices. They turned on
him, and accused him of complicity. General Wimpfen
ordered all in arrest, but Cognard resisted, and was only
taken by force. He was relegated to a military prison in the
island of Majorca, from which, with a party of prisoners, he
240 SOME FAMOUS SWINDLERS.
escaped, and, having seized a Spanish brig in the harbour,
sailed in it to Algiers. There they sold their prize, and
Cognard crossed into Spain, which the French occupied,
and where the pretended Comte was appointed to Soult's
staff. He took part in the later operations in the Pyre-
nees, and was in command of a flying column at the
battle of Toulouse. After the abdication of Napoleon, he
disappeared from sight, but he was with the Emperor at
Waterloo, where he behaved well
At the Restoration Cognard passed himself off as a
grandee of Spain, who had served Napoleon under pressure.
Having demanded an audience of the king, Louis XVIII., he
seems to have had no difficulty in persuading Louis that
he was what he pretended ; he was well received at Court,
and treated with distinction. During the Hundred Days
Cognard accompanied the king to Ghent, and made himself
conspicuous everywhere as a member of the Court. On the
second Restoration he was nominated lieutenant-colonel of
the 72nd regiment, and formed part of the garrison of Paris.
He was now seemingly at the height of prosperity, but his
downfall was near at hand.
There was a review one day in the Place Venddme, and
Cognard was present at the head of his regiment. In the
crowd of bystanders was a recently liberated convict, named
Darius, who had been at Brest with Cognard. The old
convict was struck by Cognard's likeness to an old comrade,
and asked the colonel's name. He was told it was the
Count Pontis de Ste. Helene, a distinguished officer, much
appreciated at the Court. Darius was not satisfied, still
holding to the idea that he had seen this face at Brest. So
when the parade broke up he followed the pretended count
home to his house, and then asked if he might speak to him.
After some parleying, he was admitted to the presence of
Cognard, whom he at once addressed with the familiarity of
an old friend. " Of course you know me," said Darius. " I
am glad to find you so well off. Do not think I wish to
harm you, but you are rich and I am needy. Pay me
properly, and I will leave you alone." Cognard indignantly
GOQNABD TRAPPED. 241
repudiated the acquaintance, and sent his visitor to the right-
about. Darius was furious, and would not let the matter
rest there. He went straight to the Ministry of the Interior,
who sent him on to the War Office, where he was received
by General Despinois. " What proof can you give me,"
asked the War Minister, " of this extraordinary statement ? "
" Only confront us," replied Darius, " and see what happens."
Cognard was forthwith summoned by an aide-de-camp, and
promptly appeared at head-quarters. General Despinois
treated him with scant ceremony, charging him at once as
an impostor. " But this can go on no longer," said the
general. " You cannot humbug me or the Government ; we
know that you are Cognard, the escaped convict." Cognard
kept his countenance, and merely asked to be allowed
to fetch his credentials and other papers from home.
The general made no difficulty, but would not suffer
Cognard to go alone, and before he started he called in
Darius.
Cognard was unable to control a slight movement of
surprise, which did not escape the quick eye of General
Despinois. But now a fierce war of words ensued between
the pretended count and the other convict, to end which
Despinois sent Cognard, accompanied by an officer of
gendarmes, to seek his papers. On the way Cognard
inveighed against the cowardly Hes that were being told,
and had no difficulty in gaining the sypapathy of his escort.
Arrived at home, Cognard called for wine, and begged the
officer to help himself, while he passed into an adjoining
room to change his clothes. The other agreed readily
enough, and Cognard, finding his brother, who acted as his
servant, close by, changed into Hvery, and in a striped waist-
coat, with an apron round his waist, and a feather brush in
his hand, he quietly walked down the back staircase, straight
out of the house. The gendarmes, who were on sentry below,
did not attempt to interfere with this man-servant, and the
escape was not discovered until the officer above grew tired
of waiting. Now he knocked at the door of the next room,
and peremptorily ordered the count to come out. There
Q
242 SOME FAMOUS SWINDLERS.
was, of course, no Cognard, and the officer returned to the
War Office without his prisoner.
Meanwhile Cognard returned at once to his old ways.
He found a hiding-place with a comrade, and remained there
a couple of days, when he left for Toulouse. The records
do not say what he did in the provinces, but within a fort-
night he was back in Paris, and, having joined himself to
other thieves, he made a nearly successful attempt to rob the
bank at Poissy. Laying a sum of two thousand francs in
gold upon the counter, he asked for a bill on Toulouse, and
adroitly seized the key of the safe. Cognard's demeanour
did not please the cashier, and the bill was refused. Then
Cognard brusquely repocketed his money, and, still keeping
the key, made off. He was followed by cries of "Stop,
thief!" but he got away with all his comrades but one.
This was the man with whom he lodged, and the police,
having obliged him to lead them to his domicile, forced an
entrance into Cognard's room, where they found a whole
armoury of weapons, a number of disguises, wigs, false
whiskers and moustachios. It was generally behoved that
these were to be worn in a grand attack about to be made
upon the diligence from Toulouse. Cognard remained at
large for some Httle time, but a close watch Avas set upon his
movements, and he was eventually arrested by Vidocq,
although he stoutly defended himself, and wounded one of
the pohce-officers with his pistoL When brought to ttlal he
was in due course condemned, and sentenced to travaux
forcds for life.
At that time the French bagnes were honoured by the
presence of many supposititious men of title. The so-called
Marquis de Chambreuil was at Rochefort ; a nobleman with
easy and distinguished manners, who could write verses
as was then the fashion, with much fluency, and of whose
antecedents many doubts were entertained. Another convict
nobleman was the Comte d'Arnheim, who carried his coat-of-
arms worked in silk upon his convict's cap, the well-known
bonnet vert, and who always held himself aloof from his
felon associates.
A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE. 243
SEMPLE.
Among our own compatriots Major Semple, alias Lisle,
has been handed down as a champion swindler in his
time, which was at the close of the last century, and
he was convicted of frauds and thefts often enough to
entitle him to a foremost place in criminal records. But
he could not have been wholly bad, for his offences may
be largely traced to Ul luck. The man was wanting in
perseverance, steadiness, moral sense ; he succeeded in
nothing, stuck to nothing long, and in the end became a
frank vav/rien, a low-class adventurer, put to any shifts to
live. In his early days he had served, not without distinction ;
had borne a commission, and taken part in the American
War of Independence, when he was wounded and made
prisoner. When, after his release, he was retired on a pension,
he married a lady of good family and with some means.
What afterwards befell him we do not know, but he was a
widower, or separated, when he became associated with Miss
Chudleigh, afterwards famous as the Duchess of Kingston,
in her expedition to St. Petersburg, where she set up a
brandy distillery. It was probably through her good oiEces
that he was introduced to Prince Potemkin, through whom
he was appointed captain in a Russian regiment, with which
he made several campaigns. He was on the high road to
rank and honour ; but in 1784 his roving disposition, and
a certain discontent at his prolonged exile, led him to
resign his place and return to England, where he was
soon without resources, and lapsed into crime.
The first offence with which he was charged was the
theft of a postchaise which he hired and appropriated.
His defence was that he had only committed a breach of
contract, but, as he had sold the article, it was called
felony, and he was convicted of a crime. His sentence
was seven years' transportation, but at this time he had
still friends, and some influential personages obtained a
commutation of his punishment. After a short stay in
the hulks at Woolwich, awaiting transfer to Botany Bay,
244 SOME FAMOUS SWINDLERS.
he was pardoned on condition that he left the country
forthwith. This took him again to France, just then in
the throes of the Revolution, and he became actively con-
cerned with Petion, Eoland, and others in passing events.
He was present at the king's trial, but was soon after-
wards denounced to the Committee of PubUc Safety as a
spy, and with difficulty escaped from France and the
guHlotuie. Once more this soldier of fortune returned to
his old profession, and joined the aUied armies now operat-
ing on the frontier against the French republic. He was
engaged in several weU-fought actions, and always dis-
tinguished himself in the field.
Yet within a year or two the waters had again closed
over him. He left the Austrian army in a hurry, having
been placed under arrest at Augsburg ; why, exactly, we do
not know, presumably for some shady conduct, the con-
sequences of which he must have evaded, for he got back
to London, and was soon in serious trouble. He must
have fallen into great destitution, or he would not have
been taken into custody for so sorry an offence as obtain-
ing a shirt and a few yards of calico on false pretences.
In Angelo's memoirs about this date (1795) a side-hght
is thrown upon him and the petty devices he practised
to get a meal. He had become a confirmed cadger, and
had introduced himself to Angelo on the pretence of
learning to fence. "Sample always stuck close to us,"
writes Angelo, " took care to follow us home to our door
and, walking in, stopped till dinner was placed on the
table, when I said, ' Captain ' (no assumed major then^
' will you take your dinner with us ? ' Though he always
pretended to have an engagement, he obligingly put it off,
and did us the honour to stop. In the evening, if we were
going to VauxhaU, or elsewhere, he was sure to make one,
and would have made our house his lodging if I had not
told him that all our beds were engaged except my father's,
and that room was always kept locked in his absence. Our
spunging companion continued these intrusions for about
three months, when suddenly he disappeared without paying
UTTER DESTITUTION. 245
for his instruction or anything else. To write of his various
swindling cheats, so well known, would be needless."
The calico fraud ended in another sentence of transporta-
tion for seven years, and again interest was made to spare
him this penalty, but without avail. He was shipped off,
but on the voyage out escaped convict Hfe for a time. He
was concerned with some of his felon comrades in a mutiny
on board the convict ship, and the authorities, to be well rid
of them, sent them, twenty-eight in number, adrift in the
Pacific in an open boat. They, however, reached South
America in safety, and, passing themselves off as a ship-
wrecked crew, were well received by the Spaniards. Semple
was put forward as the leader, and described as a Dutch
officer of rank, thus gaining courteous treatment. He must
have been assisted to return to Europe, for he was next
met with in Lisbon, where his real character and condition
came out, and he was arrested at the request of the British
minister, who had him conveyed to Gibraltar. He was
still seemingly a free agent on the Kock, and misused his
liberty to enter into some mutinous conspiracy afoot in
the garrison, for which he was arrested and sent off to
Tangier. Next year an order was issued to capture and
send him home to England, whence he was passed on a
second time to the antipodes.
Semple survived to again return to England and to his
old ways. For some time he made a precarious living as a
begging-letter writer, and the same diarist, Angelo, preserves
two specimens of Semple's correspondence. One letter, how-
ever, is an impudent attempt to take Angelo to task for
daring first to cut him, then to expose him to the ridicule
of others. " This is not the sort of conduct I expect," said
Semple, " from a man bred in the first societies, and to
which, however innocent you think it, I cannot, must not
submit. ... Do not, I request you, again expose your-
self. . . ." The outrage and the protest were both for-
gotten when, nine years later, he wrote to Angelo, pleading that
the " sad urgency " of his situation " cannot be described.
I am at this hour without a fire (in February) and without
246 SOME FAMOUS SWINDLERS.
a shirt. . . . Let me pray you to accord me a little
assistance, a few shillings." Angelo records that he "sent
the poor devU. a crown in answer to his letter, most prohably
falsehoods to create sympathy. He took care never to
appear himself, but had boys in different parts of the town
to deliver his begging letters, and, judging from the number
of letters he would send in one day, if they made any sort
of impression, I should think he could never be iu want of
a fire or a shirt. At all events, though, perhaps he was
obliged to forego his former luxurious style of living." Mr.
Angelo may have had special knowledge, but certainly the
records do not show Semple as at any time in comfortable
circumstances.
CHAPTER XI.
SWINDLERS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
Richard Coster, his extensive Operations — Sheridan, a high-class American
Bank Thief — His Detection by the Pinkerton Agency — ^After Release
carries out enormous Depredations — Gathers his Assets and crosses to
Europe, and takes up Residence in iSrussels — Returns to United States,
caught in Speculative Mania, and again arrested — The Frenchman
AUmayer, a typical Nineteenth Century Swindler — Great Gifts, mental
and personal — Ingenious Schemes— Clever Escape from Mazas hy forging
Judge's Order — Pursues adventurous Career, and commits many great
Frauds — Police long at fault, but at last capture him, and he is trans-
ported to the Antipodes — Paraf — An expert Chemist — Discovers Aniline
Byes, but swindles Manufacturers wholesale — The Tammany Frauds,
outward SymptoQi of widespread Depredation — Burton alias Count von
Havard — Mr. Vivian, bogus Millionaire Bridegroom — Mock Clergymen —
Dr. Berring^n — Dr. Keatinge — Harry Benson, a Prince of Swindlers —
Early Career — Associated with Kurr, plans Turf Frauds — Misguided
Comtesse de Goucourt — The Scotland Yard Detectives suborned —
Meiklejohn, Druscovitch, and Palmer — Benson arrested and does Time —
His Adventures after Release at Brussels, in Switzerland, and beyond the
Atlantic — Caught in City of Mexico — Commits Suicide in the Tombs — Max
Shinbum; achieves a fine Fortune by great Thefts and Frauds — Retires
to Belgium and lives respectably.
It might be inferred from the previous chapter that mankind
has been easily duped in the past, and that a great super-
structure of fraud has often been raised upon rather a narrow
basis. The swindler to-day certainly works on larger, bolder
lines ; he is aided by the greater complexity of modern life,
he has more openings, and his operations are of a wider, more
varied, more interesting description, as wiU now be seen.
RICHARD COSTER.
In the long Ust of remarkable swindlers this man, who
was perhaps the most accomplished, and long the most
successful of all, seldom finds place. He first attracted
notice in Bristol as a general agent and bill discounter
on a large scale, but nothing very positive ia known as
248 SWINDLERS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
to his antecedents except that at one time he drove a
carrier's cart between Oxford and London. He appears to
have been industrious and saving, so that he secured suflScient
funds to start as a costermonger with a horse and cart of
his own. He presently established himself in London, where
he acquired a very large acquaintance among people that
were afterwards of immense use to him ; horse copers, thieves,
coiners, and swindlers of all sorts. He was next heard of at
Bristol, where, however, his business did not prosper, and
his reputation was bad. Within the year he was committed
to prison on a charge of obtaining goods by false pretences.
Immediately after his release he again started under the
name of Coster & Co., but moved back shortly to London.
Here his movements were erratic, and no doubt unavow-
able. He changed his quarters continually as well as his
way of life. At one time he kept an eating-house, at another
he was an outside broker, again he was clerk to a provision
merchant. Soon afterwards he was the principal partner in
the firm of Coates & Smith, and also of Smith & Martin,
general merchants, acting apparently as financial agents.
After two or three years he blossomed out on a still larger
scale in two places, as Young & Co., in Little Winchester
Street, and as Casey & Coster, near Upper Thames Street.
During these many changes and chances he did not entirely
escape the attention of the law. In 1825 he was indicted,
with a confederate, Frederick Wilson, for a conspiracy to
defraud. At the following sessions he was charged with
obtaining bills of exchange under false pretences. Coster
escaped conviction by paying on the bills which he was
supposed to have illegally obtained.
During these operations he attracted the notice of the
Society for the Suppression of Swindling, which had its eye
constantly upon him, and published his names and aliases
and innumerable addresses. It would be tedious to catalogue
them all : Hatton Garden, Queen's Arms Yard, Parliament
Street, under the name of Davies & Co., feather-bed manu-
facturers; as Wright & Co., of Little Winchester Street,
engaged in the glove trade, and so on. The secretary to the
ONE OF THE FIRST OF LONG FIEM8. 249
Society for the Protection of Trade reported in a circular
that "Young, Richards & Co., of Upper Thames Street;
Young & Co., of Little Winchester Street ; Brown & Co.,
of the same address, are firms belonging to Richard Coster,
so often noticed."
At last, having tried all kinds of business — broker,
bullion dealer, coral dealer, he came out finally as a money-
lender on a large scale in New Street, Bishopsgate, whence
he issued circulars headed " Accommodation " in large type,
and supported by the emblems of Freemasonry, into which
honourable craft he had entered under a feigned name.
The circular was addressed to "merchants, manufacturers,
farmers, graziers, tradesmen, and persons of respectability,"
at home or abroad, and offered to accept and endorse any
bills at any dates, and for any amounts, or they might draw
bills on any responsible houses in London which should be
regularly accepted from them when presented, provided they
enclosed a commission of eightpence in the pound when
sending advice of having drawn them. If they could not
take up the bills when due, they need only apply afresh
(enclosing a fresh commission), when the bills would be
renewed, or fresh bills sent which they could discount, and
so pay the first set, and continue the same until their own
property or produce turned to advantage, and such temporary
accommodation was no longer required. " By this mode
money to any amount may be raised, according to the cir-
cumstances and situation of the borrower, at about seven
per cent. He must be a bad merchant," went on this
circular, "who cannot always make from 15 to 20 per
cent, of money. Some persons for want of knowing
this system of raising money are obUged to sacrifice
their property by locking it up in mortgages for one half
its value, and spend the other half in paying solicitors'
enormous biUs and expenses of mortgage deeds." All
expenses were to be borne by the borrower — postage, bill
stamps, and the commission of eightpence in the pound —
which must be transmitted before the bills could be accepted
References were also required, but thej" strictest secrecy and
250 SWINDLERS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
delicacy" would be observed in taking them up. The
borrower might send money or goods at any time to redeem
bUls, and the advertiser was ready always to guarantee his
own respectability.
Coster was long enabled to carry on his trade with
great plausibihty and success. He worked mainly on the
number and variety of the firms of which he was the sole
proprietor. His was, indeed, one of the earliest instances of
" Long Firm frauds." When a transaction was to be carried
through by Young & Co. of Little Winchester Street,
Brown & Co. of Cushion Court answered all inquiries,
declaring Young & Co. to be persons of the highest credit.
And this system he multiplied almost indefinitely. The
bills of exchange were freely accepted, the goods delivered
when ordered without hesitation. Thus Coster secured a
consignment of the entire stock of a German wine-grower
who was selling off; on another occasion he got a large
quantity of Dublin stout into his hands ; on a third a cargo
of valuable timber. In none of these cases did he pay out
one single shilling as purchase money. The innumerable
aliases under which he carried on his transactions, and the
care he took never to appear in person, saved him from
all danger of arrest. He was represented by his agents,
all of them creatures of his own, whom he had bound
to himself by some strong tie. They dared not call their
souls their own, and carried out his instructions, acting now
as principal, now as agent, just as he required. They were
mostly decayed tradesmen and persons in straitened
circumstances, whom he " sweated " and paid starvation
wages, salaries of from ten to twenty shillings per week. One
man only he trusted as his right hand. Smith, whose name
so frequently figured in the firms he invented, and who
was eventually involved in his downfall.
Coster's frauds became known to Alderman Sir Peter
Laurie, who set himself to unmask and convict him. It
might have been more difiicult had not the villain added
forgery to his lesser swindles. He began to circulate bogus
bank-notes, and in February, 1833, sent to Honiton an order
A JSrUTOBIOUS AMEBIGAN. 251
for lace, enclosing three ten-pound notes in payment, aU of
which were forged. Clark, the lacemaker, discovered the
fraud, and forwarded the notes to Freshfield's, the solicitors
of the Bank of England. A plan was laid for the trans-
mission of fictitious parcels to the address given by Coster,
« W. Jackson, at the Four Swans, Bishopsgate Street," and
when Smith, the assistant, applied for them, he was arrested.
Coster's complicity was next ascertained, and he was secured.
The letter ordering the lace proved to be in his handwriting.
The strongest evidence against the prisoner was that of
two of his former instruments, who gladly turned on him.
Coster was transported for life. Smith for a shorter term.
WALTER SHERIDAN.
One of the most successful of modern criminal adventurers
has been the American, Walter Sheridan, who was said to
be the originator of the Great Bank of England forgeries
.for which the Bidwells were afterwards punished. Some
say that he was the moving spirit in the whole business,
but whether he did more than plan it may be doubted,
and his name was never mixed up with the affair. An
eminent pohce officer of New York, Mr. George W. Walling,
states in his reminiscences that Sheridan became disgusted
with the way the job was being worked, and declined to be
further associated with such unsatisfactory partners. It is
possible that, had he been allowed to carry out " the job "
his own way, it might have been accomplished without
detection and to the more serious discomfiture of the bank.
Sheridan is a typical modern criminal, having great
natural gifts, unerring instincts in divining profitable opera-
tions, uncommon quickness and astuteness in planning
details and executing them. No one has better utilised to
his own advantage the numberless chances offered by the
intricate machinery of modem trade and finance. He began
in the lower lines of fraud. Full of an evil, adventurous spirit,
he ran away from his home, a small farm in Ohio, when
only a boy, resolved to seek fortune by any means in the
busy centres of life. St. Louis was his first point; here
252 SWINBLEB8 OF MOBS MODERN TYPE.
he at once fell into bad company, and became associated
with desperadoes, especially those engaged in the confidence
trick. But in 1858, when just twenty, he was caught and
tried for horse-stealing, and just before sentence escaped
to Chicago, where he became the pupil of a certaia Joe
Moran, a noted hotel thief, with whom he worked the
hotels around very profitably for two or three years, but
was at last arrested and "did time."
On his release, Moran being dead, Sheridan took up a
higher line of business and became a "bank sneak," the
clever thief who robs banks by bounce or stratagem, being
greatly aided in the business by a fine presence and in-
sinuating address. He was the life and soul of the gang
he joined, the brains and leader of his associates, and his
successes were many in this direction. With two confederates
he robbed the First National Bank of Springfield, Illinois,
obtaining some 35,000 dollars from the vaults. Next he
secured 50,000 dollars from a fire insurance company.
Agaia 37,000 dollars from the Mechanics' Bank of Scranton.
A very few years of this made him a rich man, and he
was supposed to be worth some £15,000 to £20,000 by
1867. He had gone latterly into partnership with the
notorious George Wilhams, commonly called " English George,"
a well-kno^vn depredator and bank thief About this time
he participated in the plunder of the Maryland Fire Insur-
ance Company of Baltimore, and fingered a large part of
the 75,000 doUars taken, in money and negotiable bonds,
not one cent of which was ever recovered. One of his
neatest thefts was the relieving of Judge Blatchford, of
New York, of a wallet containing 75,000 dollars' worth of
bonds.
Misfortune overtook him at last, and he failed in his
attempt to rob the First National Bank of Cleveland, Ohio,
in 1870. One of his confederates had laid hands on
32,000 dollars, but was caught in the act of carrying off
the packages of notes, and Sheridan was arrested as an
accomplice. He was very virtuously indignant at this
shameful imputation, and his bail was accordingly accepted
TEE PINKEBT0N8 ON HIS TBAOK. 253
for 7,000 dollars, which he at once sacrificed, and fled. But
now the famous Pinkerton detectives were put upon his
track. Allan Pinkerton, who was assisted by his son William,
soon ascertained that Sheridan owned a prosperous hotel
at Hudson, Michigan, in which State he also possessed
much landed property. The Pinkertons took up their
quarters at this hotel, which was under the management
of Sheridan's brother-in-law. Chiefly anxious, while cau-
tiously prosecuting inquiries, to secure a photograph of
the man so much wanted — for nothing of the kind was as
yet in the hands of the police authorities — young Pinker-
ton stuck at nothing to obtain this valuable clue, and
having ascertained where the family rooms were located in
the hotel, he broke in and captured an excellent likeness of
Sheridan, which was speedily copied and distributed through
the various Pinkerton agencies in the United States and
beyond the Atlantic.
Sheridan about this time came in person to his hotel
to visit his relatives. The Pinkertons did not lay hands
on him here among his friends, but they shadowed him
closely when he moved on, and by-and-by captured him
at Sandusky, Ohio. He was taken to Chicago, but made
a desperate attempt to escape, which was foiled, and he was
eventually put upon his trial. He retained the very best
legal advice, paid large sums — no less than £4,000 — in fees,
and was eventually acquitted through the clever use of
technicalities in the law.
Sheridan, after this narrow escape from well-merited
retribution, went " East," and organised fresh depredations
in new localities. They were often on the most gigantic scale,
thanks to his wonderful genius for evil The robbery of the
Falls City Tobacco Bank realised plunder to the value of £60,000
to his gang, and Sheridan, now at the very pinnacle of his
criminal career, must have himself been worth quite £50,000.
In these days he made a great external show of respectability,
and cultivated good business and social relations. They
aided him in the still larger schemes of forgery on which
he now entered, the largest ever known in the United
264 SWINDLERS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
States, and which comprised the most gigantic creation of
false securities and bonds. It was an extraordinary under-
taking, slowly and elaborately prepared. Taking the name
of Kalston, he passed himself off as a rich Californian. He
began to speculate largely in grain, becoming a member of
the Produce Exchange, and obtaining large advances on
cargoes of grain. At the same time he kept a desk in a
broker's office in Broadway as a basis of operations. His
next move was to gain the confidence of the President of
the New York Indemnity Company, to whom he repre-
sented that his mother held a great number of railway
bonds, on which he sought a large loan to cover the pur-
chase of real estate. Sheridan offered £25,000 worth of
these securities, and readily obtained an advance to a third
of their value. These bonds were all forgeries, but so fault-
less in execution that they deceived the keenest eyes. It
was not the only fraud of the kind, although details of
the rest are wanting. But it is generally beheved that the
total losses incurred by the companies and institutions on
whom Sheridan forged amounted to nearly a million of
money. Many Wall Street brokers and a number of
private investors were ruined utterly by these wholesale
frauds.
A little before the discovery Sheridan quietly gathered
all his assets together, divided the spoil, and crossed to
Europe, carrying with him £40,000 worth of the forged
bonds, some of which he put upon the European markets.
A portion were, however, stolen from him in Switzerland
by a girl who said she had burned them, believing the
pohce were about to search the house for them. She had,
however, given them secretly to her father, who also
realised on them. Sheridan at last took up his residence
in Brussels, where he lived like a prince, having foresworn
his own country, to which he never meant to return.
But he could not keep away h:om America, and he
presently went back to his fate, which was the entire loss
of his ill-gotten gains. Under the name of Walter A. Stewart,
he turned up at Denver as a florist and market gardener
SHERIDAN'S ARREST. 255
doing a large business. He presently established a bank
of his own and was caught by the speculative mania; he
took to the wildest gambling in mining stock, and by
degrees lost every penny he possessed. After this it was
believed that he intended to organise a fresh series of
forgeries, and he was closely watched by the Pinkertons.
They arrested him as he landed from the Pennsylvania
ferry-boat. He was brought to trial on no less than
eighty-two indictments, including the New York forgeries,
and was sentenced to five years' imprisonment in Sing Sing.
After that he was again arrested for stealing a box of
diamonds, and yet again, as John Holcom, for being in
possession of counterfeit United States bills. He received
two fresh sentences, following one close on the other, and,
as his health was already failing when last apprehended, it
is probable that he did not long survive. Now, at any
rate, the curtain has fallen upon him and his criminal
career.
JACK CANTER.
Another born American who, between 1870 and 1880,
achieved much evil fame and high fortune, varied by long
periods of eclipse, was Canter, a criminal who, like Sheridan,
was backed by many natural gifts. Although at forty-five
he had spent more than half his hfe in gaol, he was still,
when at large, a man of distinguished appearance, with
good looks and pleasant manners, an accomplished hnguist
and expert penman. More, he held a diploma as a physician,
and had taken high honours in the medical schools, while
he sometimes contributed articles to the press written with
judgment and vigour. While in Sing Sing he was treated
more like an honoured guest than a felon doing time, and
had the pick of the many snug biUets provided in that
easy-going prison for its most favoured inmates. At one
time he kept the gaol records, and thus had access to the
particulars of all other inmates, their antecedents, crimes,
sentences, and so forth. He turned this knowledge to good
account, and invented a system of tampering with the
256 SWINDLERS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
discharge book so as to reduce the term of imprisonment
of anyone for a stipulated sum. By the agency of certain
chemicals he erased entries and substituted others, all in
favour of the prisoner. He was not subjected to any prison
rule save detention for the allotted term, and this must
have oppressed him little, for he went in and out through
the prison gates much as he liked, drove a smart team of
horses, and paid frequent visits to New York to see his
friends. It was greatly suspected that some of the prison
ofificials who winked at his escapades were also implicated
in his frauds.
After one of his releases from Sing Sing, in the begin-
ning of 1873, he created a Central Fire Insurance Company
in Philadelphia, with a capital of £40,000. The stock was
long in good repute and held by many respectable business
men. Suspicion was, however, aroused, and the reality of its
sound condition was doubted. The Pinkertons were called
in to investigate, and they soon ascertained that the assets
of the company consisted of forged railway securities. The
fraud had been cunningly devised. A certain quantity of
real stock had been purchased, but of shares represent-
ing small amounts, and the figures had been altered by
the same chemical process to others much larger. A ten-
dollar share was converted into one for three or five
hundred dollars, and the whole assets of the company
were practically nU.
ALLMAYER.
Among swindlers of the 'eighties, the Frenchman Allmayer
fills a prominent place, and may be taken as a type of the
nineteenth century criminal; one who, although fairly well
born, undeniably well educated, happy at home, where he was
a favourite child, fell into evil courses early in his teens.
He had been placed on a stool in his father's offices, and
one day came across the cheque-book, which he forthwith
appropriated. There was a hue and cry for it, and it was
soon recovered. But one cheque was missing, which in due
course was presented at the bank with the forged signature
ALLMAYEB. 257
of Allmayer's father, and duly paid. By-and-by the fraud
-was discovered, the author of it exposed and sharply re-
primanded, but he suffered no more. Soon afterwards he
again swindled his father. He stole a registered letter con-
taining notes, and laid the blame on a perfect stranger.
Now Monsieur AUmayer pere ordered his incorrigible son
to enlist, and the young man joined a regiment of dragoons,
where he soon made many friends by squandering money
he did not possess. To pay his debts he robbed his captain.
Although he managed to defer his trial by a clever escape
from the mihtary cells, he was eventually sentenced to five
years' imprisonment in the Cherche Midi Military Prison
of Paris, and passed thence to a discipline battalion in
Algeria.
On the expiration of his term he returned to Paris, and
gained his father's forgiveness. They took him into the
bosom of the family, where for some time he hved a steady,
respectable life, and might have done ~ well, for he had un-
doubted talents, and his friends were on the point of securing
him a good situation. The Allmayers lived at Chatou, and
going up and down the line to and from St. Lazare, he
renewed his acquaintance with an old school-friend, Edmond
K., who gave him the run of his offices in Paris. Monsieur
K. about this time missed several letters which lay about his
table, and which disappeared always after Allmayer's visits.
But he had no reason to suspect his young friend, till one
day something serious occurred. Another Parisian banker,
C, was asked through the telephone by Monsieur K. at
what price he would discount a bill for £1,600, drawn on a
London house and endorsed by K. The banker C. thought
he recognised K.'s voice ; at any rate, he was pleased to do
the business, for he had often asked K. to open relations
with him. C. accordingly quoted his price, and was told by
K. that the bUl should be sent by a messenger, to whom he
could pay over its value in cash. Twenty minutes later the
bill was brought, and the money handed over. Next day,
however, C.'s London correspondent, to whom the bill had
been transmitted for collection, returned it so that some
258 SWINDLEIiS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
small irregularity in the endorsement might be corrected.
It was passed on to K., who declared at once that he knew
nothing of the endorsement, but that the bill itself Avas one
he had lost two months before. As for the cash paid by C,
it had not come into K.'s hands. Clearly there had been a
crime, but who were the guilty parties ? Two clerks in K.'s
office were suspected, and as these young gentlemen had
been imprudent enough occasionally to imitate their
employer's signature, merely as a matter of amusement
they were arrested, and the case looked black against them.
AUmayer, however, obtained their release in the following
manner.
From the first discovery of the fraud, AUmayer had
taken a great interest in the affair. Being K.'s intimate
friend, he accompanied him to the prefecture of police,
and was called as a witness by the juge d'instruction
when dealing with the clerks. Taking the judge aside, he
privately told him a story, with that air of perfect frank-
ness and plausibility which he found so useful in his later
career. He would confide to the judge the exact truth,
he said; the fact was that M. K., being in pressing need
of money for his personal use, had himself abstracted the
bill belonging to his firm. M. K. was then called in, and
taxed by the judge with the deed. K., utterly taken aback,
protested, but in vaia AUmayer, who was present, implored
him to confess. The unfortunate man, still quite bewUdered,
stammered and stuttered, and gave so many evidences of
his guilt, that the judge committed him to Mazas. But
as he was not quite satisfied with AUmayer, who, moreover,
had a "history," he sent him also to prison. Now the K.
family intervened, and, strongly suspecting that their son
was really guilty, were glad to compromise the affair.
Both the prisoners were then released, and AUmayer
thought it prudent to cross the frontier. It was well
he did so, for now the true inwardness of the story was
revealed. AUmayer had secured the assistance of an old
comrade in the Algerian discipline corps, whom he had
taken with him first to a public telephone oflSce, where the
SE E SO APES FROM MAZAS. 259
communication was made with the banker C. as though
coming from K.'s offices. Then AUmayer sent this old
soldier to collect the money on the bill, which he had
appropriated some time previously. He pocketed the pro-
ceeds, and kept the lion's share, for his comrade only got
£200 and a suit of new clothes. Next morning he warned
him to make himself scarce, declaring that all was discovered,
and that he had better fly to Algeria. When Allmayer's
guilt was fully established, and he had been arrested and
brought back to Paris, a search was made for the soldier,
who was found in Algeria. In his pocket was a telegram
from AUmayer to the effect " Joseph is after you, is at Oran
to-day, will be at Tlemcen to-morrow, proceed to New York."
Joseph, it must be understood, meant the detective-officer
in pursuit.
It seemed unlikely that AUmayer would leave Mazas as
easily now as on his first visit. But he made one of the most
dariag and successful escapes on record, and passed through
the gates of that gloomy stronghold openly. As he was
being interrogated day after day by the judge in his cabinet,
and taken to the prefecture for that purpose, he managed,
while seated at the table facing the judge, to abstract, almost
from under his nose, a sheet of official paper and an official
envelope. This he accomphshed by scattering his own papers,
which were very numerous, upon the table, and mixing the
official sheets unperceived with his own. He had already
observed that the judge, in transmitting an order of release
for some prisoner in Mazas, had not used a printed form,
but had simply written a letter on a sheet of official paper.
This was enough for AUmayer, who, when once again in the
privacy of his cell, concocted the necessary order to the
governor of Mazas, signed by the judge. This was the first
step gained, but such a letter must be stamped with the
judge's seal to carry -the proper weight. One morning, as
he sat before the judge, he entered into an animated conversa-
tion with him, and suddenly, with a violent gesture, upset
the ink-bottle over the uniform of the Garde de Paris who
stood by his side. AUmayer, fuU of apology, pointed to the
260 8WIA'DLEBS OF MORE MODEIiN TYPE.
water-bottle on the mantelpiece, the Guard rushed towards it,
the judge and the clerk followed him with their eyes, and
at that moment AUmayer, who had already the seal in his
hand, stamped his letter. This was the second step. The
third was to get his letter conveyed by some official hand to
Mazas. For this he devised a fresh stratagem. On leaving
the cabinet with his escort, he paused outside the door and
said he had forgotten something. He re-entered the cabinet,
and came out with his letter in his hand, saying indignantly,
" The judge thinks I am one of his servants. Here, you,
Monsieur le Garde, you had better carry this, or see it sent
to Mazas." AUmayer had barely returned to his cell in
Mazas before a warder arrived with the welcome news that
the judge had ordered him to be set free. That same
evening he reached Brussels. As soon as his escape was
discovered, the French authorities demanded his extradition ;
but the legal forms had not been strictly observed, and
AUmayer was not surrendered. Only Belgium refused to
give him hospitality, and he was conducted to the German
frontier, whence he gained the nearest port and embarked
for Morocco.
At that time AUmayer was a gentlemanly, good-looking
youth, with fair complexion and rosy cheeks, a heavy light
moustache, and rather bald; his manners were so good,
he was always so irreproachably dressed, that he easily
passed himself off for a man of the highest fashion. He
assumed many aliases, mostly with titles, the Vicomte de
Bonneville, the Comte de MottevUle, the Comte de Maupas,
and so on. Sometimes he was satisfied with plain "Mon-
sieur," and was then generally Meyer or Mayer, and these
were his business names. For his swindling was on a large
scale. He bought and sold sheep and wool, and it
was admitted by those whom he victimised that he had a
natural talent for business affairs. One wool merchant
whom he defrauded declared his surprise at finding this
smart young gentleman so fuUy at home in the quaUty
and character of the wools of the world. AU this time
he moved freely to and fro, returning frequently to France
HE LEADS THE BETEGT1VE8 A DANOE. 261
from Morocco, passing boldly through the capitals of Europe,
staying even in Paris. The police knew he was there, but
could not lay hands upon him. It was at Paris, under
the name of Eugene Meyer, that he carried out one of
his largest and most successful frauds. He was arranging
for a large supply of arms to the Sultan of Morocco, when
he mentioned casually that he was owed a sum of £30,000
by one of the largest bankers in Paris, and held his accept-
ance for the sum. The people present were willing enough
to discount this acceptance, but the amount was too large
to deal with as a whole. Meyer solved the difficulty by
saying he would have it broken up into bills for smaller
amounts, which, in effect, he produced, and which were
willingly discounted. By and by it came out that the bills
were forged, and those who held them were arrested ; but
AUmayer was gone. All he did was to write to the papers
exonerating his unconscious accomplices, and offering to
appear at their trial if the police would guarantee him a •
safe-conduct. But the police refused, and his unfortunate
confederates were condemned.
Much astonishment and no little indignation were ex-
pressed in Paris at the carelessness of the police in allowing
AUmayer to remain at large. Yet all the time the detectives
were at his heels, and followed him all over Europe — to
Belgrade, to Genoa, back to Paris. At Marseilles he robbed
a merchant, Monsieur R, of 20,000 francs by pretending
to secure for him a contract for the French Government for
sheep. It would be necessary, however, as he plausibly
put it, to remit the above-mentioned sum anonymously
to a certain high functionary. AUmayer attended at Mon-
sieur K.'s office to give the address, which he himself
wrote upon an envelope at Monsieur R's table. This done.
Monsieur R. inserted the notes, and the letter was left
there upon the blotting-pad — at least, so M. R believed,
but AUmayer by a dexterous sleight of hand had sub-
stituted another exactly similar, whUe that with the notes
was safely concealed in his pocket. It is said that the
high functionary received a letter containing nothing but
262 SWINDLERS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
a number of pieces of old newspaper carefully cut to the
size of bank notes, and did not understand it until, later
on, M. K. wrote him a letter of sorrowful reproach at not
having kept his word by giving the contract in exchange
for the notes.
Still AUniayer pursued his adventurous career without
interference, and the police were always a little too late to
catch him. They heard of him at Lyons, where he passed
as a cavalry officer and gave a grand banquet to his old
comrades in the garrison ; again, at Aix they were told of a
sham Vicomte de Malville, who had played high at the
casino, and unfairly, but he was gone before they could
catch him. At Biarritz he signaUsed his stay by cheating,
borrowing, and swindling on every side. The commissary
of pohce at Bordeaux was warned to keep his eye upon
this person, who passed as Monsieur Mario Magnan, but
the commissary imprudently summoned the suspected person
to his presence, and blurting out the story, gave AUmeyer
the chance of escape before the Parisian police arrived to
arrest him. He had gone ostensibly to Paris, but his bag-
gage was registered to Coutrai. The detective followed to
Coutrai, and found that his quarry had gone on to Havre
with several hours' start. The man wanted was hunted for
through Havre, and in the pleasant suburb of St. Addresse,
but the covert was drawn blank till aU at once, by that
strange interposition of mere chance that so often tells against
the criminal, the detectives came upon him upon the Boule-
vard Strasbourg, a perfect gentleman, fashionably dressed,
with a lady on his arm in an elegant toilette. They laid
hands on him a little doubtfully at first, but it proved to
be AUmayer, although he vigorously denied his identity.
This was practically the end of his criminal career, for he
was speedily transferred to Paris and committed for trial,
being located this time in the Conciergerie, under the constant
surveillance of two police ofiicers. Even there his mind was
actively employed in planning escape ; the true he tried was
by confiding to the head of police the secret of a hidden
receptacle of certain thieves, who had collected a quantity
HIS APFEARANGE IN COURT. 263
of plunder. If the officers would take him there, he would
show them the place ; it was in the Rue St. Maur, at
Menilmontant. But the authorities were not to be im-
posed upon, and, by inquiring elsewhere, learnt that the
whole story was a fabrication. AUmayer had arranged that
on arrival at the ground he should be rescued by a number
of friends assembled for the purpose.
The secret of his many successes was that he was a
consummate actor, and could play any part. Now an
officer, ke was cordially welcomed by his brothers in arms ;
at the watering-places and health resorts he posed and
was accepted as a gentleman of rank and fashion ; in
commercial circles he appeared a quick and intelligent
man of business. He practised the same art, but in quite
a different direction, at his trial. A great interest was ex-
cited in Piris at the arrest of this notorious swindler, so
clever at disguises, so bold in his schemes, Avho had so
long set the police at defiance. Yet when he appeared in
court he disappointed everyone, and showed up as a poor,
timid, brokea-backed creature, half imbecile, surely incap-
able of the daring crimes attributed to him. He told a
rambling disconnected story of how he was wrongfully
accused, that the chief agent in all these affairs was an
old prison-birl whose acquaintance he had unhappily made,
and who had bolted, leaving him to bear all the blame.
His abject appearance and his poor, weak defence gained
him the pity if his judges, and, instead of the heaviest,
the lightest seitence was imposed upon him. All this was
a clever piece if acting; he had assumed the part for the
purpose which he had achieved.
Allmayer wis sentenced to twelve years' transportation,
and he was lasi heard of in the Safety Islands, where he
was employed £s a hospital nurse, and had made himself
very popular vith his keepers. Someone who met him
lately describes him as still prepossessing, but with a
singularly false face, bright, intelligent eyes, fluent as ever
in speech. By-and-by he may reappear to despoil his
more confiding fellows, and be the despair of the police.
264
SWINDLEIiS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
PARAF.
This was an extraordinary swindler who amassed con-
siderable sums by his frauds. He came of a really good
stock, and might have earned fame and fortune had he not
been afHicted with incurably low tastes. Paraf was bom about
1840 of a respectable family in Alsace ; he was highly edu-
cated, and became a brilliant and expert chemist. The elder
Paraf, his father, was a calico manufacturer, and he gladly
placed his son at the head of his print works, wjiere the
young man's knowledge and intelligence were most valuable.
But once, while making a tour through Scotland, (his funds
ran short, and his father would not supply him yith more
money. So he carried an alleged newly discovered dye to
a Glasgow manufacturer, and sold it for severa/ thousand
pounds, which sum, passing over to Paris, pe quickly
squandered in dissipation. This dye was wc/tthless, but
Paraf was not really an impostor, for, when! once more
penniless, he joined forces with his old professor in Paris,
and together they discovered the famous aniline dyes. Paraf
brought this invention to England, patented i), and sold it
for a considerable sum. No doubt he would/have made a
great deal of money had he run straight, but he was an
absolute spendthrift, and parted speedily wiln all he got.
When utterly destitute, he stole the patent fir another dye
from a friend, and sold it to his uncle in Paris for a couple
of thousand pounds. With what was left of this sum he
started for America, and landed in New Yort, where he was
well received. Of engaging person and fraik manners, he
gained the friendship and confidence of sejeral capitalists,
to one of whom he sold an aniline black lye for £12,000-
He now launched out into a career of will extravagance
he occupied magnificent rooms at a first-chss hotel, bathed
in sweet-scented waters, and gave sumptions dinners at
Delmonico's. His money did not last loag, and he had
recourse to fresh swindles. His next transa(tion was the sale
of an alleged cloverine dye to a damask n anufacturer, and
he persuaded Governor Sprague, of Khode jCsland, to invest
TAMMANY FBAUD8. 265
£100,000 in a madder dye, which proved a failure. Then he
became acquainted with a Frenchman, Monsieur Mourier,
who invented oleo-margarine, which Paraf stole from him
and fraudulently sold to a New York firm. Mourier estab-
lished his first claim to the invention, and the firm had to
buy their rights afresh.
After tbis Paraf found New York too hot for him. He
went south to Chili, and promoted a company to extract gold
from copper, but found it easier to extract it from other
people's pockets. This last escapade finished him, for he
was pursued and cast into prison, where he died.
TAMMANY FRAUDS.
The fact has often been noticed that crime takes larger
developments to-day than heretofore. Schemes are larger,
plunder greater, the depredator travels over wider areas.
He is often cosmopolitan; his transactions include the
capitals of Europe, the great cities beyond the Atlantic,
in India, and the Antipodes. The immensity of the hauls
made by daring swindlers misusing their powers as the
guardians of public funds was well shown in the Tammany
frauds, when, in 1872, " Boss " Tweed and his accomplices
stole millions from the taxpayers of New York. The frauds
which they successfully accomplished amounted, it was said,
to twenty million dollars. They had an annual income of
about that sum to play with, and they ran up as well a city
debt of about a hundred million dollars. At that time the
municipal administration of New York was abominably bad ;
the city was wretchedly lighted, badly paved, and the pohce pro-
tection not only imperfect but untrustworthy. The Tam-
many frauds were exposed, as we know, by an Englishman,
Mr. Louis Jennings, the representative of the Tirnes in New
York, who, coming by chance upon the fringe of the frauds,
pursued his clue, despite many disheartening failures, until
he obtained full success. He found that a most elaborate
system of fraudulent entry in the city books covered the
misappropriation of enormous sums. It was the custom to
pay over hundreds of thousands of dollars, for work that was
266 SWINDLERS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
never accomplished, to persons who were either men of
straw or had no corporeal existence. Thus £120,000 was
charged for carpets in the Court House, and on inspection it
was found that this Court House floor was covered with a
common matting barely worth £20. In another building
the plastering figured at £366,000, and the furniture, which
consisted of a few stools and desks, ran up to a million and
a half sterling of money. No wonder tliat in these glorious
times " Boss " Tweed and his merry men became millionaires,
having been penniless adventurers before. They kept steam
yachts, drove fast trotters, their wives wore priceless diamonds,
and they gave princely entertainments in brownstone man-
sions on Fifth Avenue and Madison Square. When fate at
last overtook them, and landed most of them in the State
prison, the ample funds at their disposal enabled them still
to make life tolerable, and I myself have seen one or two
of these most notorious swindlers smoking large cigars and
lounging over novels in their snug cells at Sing Sing.
BURTON, ALIAS THE COUNT VON HAVARD.
Compared to these top-sawyers and high-flyers in crime we
have little to show on this side ; but I may mention one or
two notorious swindlers of these latter days, remarkable in
their way for their dexterity and the pertinacity with which
they pursue their nefarious trade. Every now and again the
police lay their hands on some fine gentleman who is well
received in society, like Benson, bearing some borrowed
aristocratic name, but who is really an ex-convict repeating
the game that originally got him into trouble. There was
the man Burton, as he was generally called, but who rejoiced
in many aliases, such as Temple, Bouverie, Wilmot, St. Maur,
Erskine, and many more, and whose career was summarily
ended in 1876, when, as Count von Havard, he was sentenced
to five years' penal servitude for obtaining money by fraud.
This man's character may be gathered from the police de-
scription of him when he was once more at large. He was
described as a native of Virginia, in the United States ; was
supposed to be a gentleman by birth and education, and
DB. VIVIAN. 267
speaking English with a slightly foreign accent. The police
notice went on to say that he was " an accomplished swindler,
an adept in every description of subterfuge and artifice ; he
tells lies with such a specious resemblance to truth that
numerous persons have been deceived by him to their cost.
He is highly educated, an excellent linguist, and also skilled
in the dead languages, and his good address has obtained
him an entrance into the very highest society abroad. By
the adroit use of secret information of which he has become
possessed he has extorted large sums as blackmail. One of
his devices is to enter into a correspondence with relatives
of deceased persons, leading them to suppose they are bdndjici-
aires under wills, and thus obtain money to carry on pre-
liminary inquiries. He frequently makes his claim through
a respectable solicitor, whom he first dupes with an account
of his brilliant connections and prospects. He represents
himself as the son of a foreign nobleman, De Somerset
St. Maur Wilmot, and claims relationship with several dis-
tinguished persons."
He was in reality a very old offender, who had done more
than one sentence in this country, and had probably known
the interior of many foreign prisons. His operations extended
throughout Europe, and he had visited the principal health
resorts and holiday places of the Continent ; now at Biarritz,
now Homburg, now Ostend, and this constant movement to
and fro no doubt helped him to elude the police.
DR. VIVIAN.
Another man of the same stamp called himself Dr. Vivian,
of New York, and burst upon the world of Birmingham, about
1884, as a man of vast wealth, which he spent with a most
lavish hand. He stopped at the best hotel in the town,
the "Queen's," and got into society. One day, at a flower-
show, he was introduced to a Miss Wilkes, to whom he at
once paid his addresses, and made such rapid progress in
her good graces that they were married by special license
a week or two later. The wedding was of the most splendid
description; the happy bridegroom had presented his wife
268 SWINDLERS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
with quantities of valuable jewellery, and he was so well
satisfied with the arrangements at the church that he
gave the officiating clergyman a fee of £500. After a
magnificent wedding breakfast at the "Queen's" hotel, the
newly married couple proceeded to London, and were next
heard of at the " Langham " hotel, living in the most ex-
pensive style. The bridegroom spent large sums amongst
the London tradesmen, and, strange to say, invariably paid
cash. All this time a man who had much the appearance
of Dr. Vivian was greatly wanted by the police ; the person
in question had been down in Warwickshire a few months
previous to the arrival of Dr. Vivian at the " Queen's " hotel,
Birmingham. This person was strongly suspected of a theft
at a hotel at Whitchurch. A visitor at the hotel had been
robbed one night of a certain sum in cash and a number
of very valuable old coins. Now the police became satisfied
that the man wanted for this theft and Dr. Vivian were
one and the same person, and the authorities of Scotland
Yard took the decided step of arresting him. They went
farther, and had the audacity to declare that the so-called
Dr. Vivian was one James Barnet, otherwise George Percy,
otherwise George Guelph, a notorious convict, but recently
released after a term of ten years' penal servitude.
When arrested, Vivian, as we will still call him, was
found to be in possession of a large amount of money,
much more than could have come from the hotel robbery
at Whitchurch; he had a roll of notes to the value of
some two thousand pounds, and a great deal of gold. The
impression was that a part of this was the proceeds of another
hotel robbery from a boolemaker at Manchester. The notes,
however, when examined, were found to be all of one date,
some ten or twelve years back, antecedent to his last con-
viction, and it seemed most improbable that he could have
come upon these in the ordinary way of robbery. It was
far more likely that they were forged notes (although this
was never proved) which had been planted somewhere
safely while he was at large, and that on his release he
had drawn upon the deposit. At the same time there had
FALSE CLERGYMEN. 269
been some serious thefts at the " Langham " hotel during the
prisoner's honeymoon residence, and there is very little
doubt that Vivian, alias Barnet, was an accomplished hotel
thief. Many curious facts came out while he was in
custody. He was identified as a man who had wandered
from hotel to hotel in the Midlands, changing his appear-
ance continually, but not enough to defy detection. He
carried with him a large wardrobe as his stock-in-trade,
and was seldom seen in the same suit of clothes two days
together. He had had several narrow escapes, and before
his final escapade had been arrested in Derby by a detec-
tive, who was pretty certain that he had "passed through
his hands." The accumulated evidence was strongly against
him, and when put upon his trial for the particular theft
at the Whitchurch hotel, he was found guilty and sentenced
to another ten years' seclusion.
MOCK CLERGYMEN.
The convict swindler when at large has many lines
of operation, and a favourite one is the assumption of the
clerical garb. This is generally done by criminals who
at one time or other had been in holy orders, and un-
frocked for their misdeeds. Dr. Berrington was a notable
instance of this. Although he Avas repeatedly convicted of
performing clerical functions, for which he was altogether
disqualified, he kept up the game to the last. In one of
his short periods of freedom he had the effrontery to take
the duties of a country rector, and, as such, accepted an
invitation to dine at a neighbouring squire's. Strange to
say, the carriage which he hired from the livery stables
of the nearest town was driven by a man who, like him-
self, was a license-holder, and who had last seen his clerical
fare when they were both inmates of Dartmoor prison.
Berrington had no doubt been in the church at one time,
and was a ripe scholar. The story goes that during one of
his imprisonments at the school hour he was amusing
himself with a Hebrew grammar. " What ! Do you know
Hebrew ? " said a visitor to the gaol who was passing through
270 8WINBLEB8 OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
the ward. " Yes," replied Berrington, " and I daresay a great
deal better than you do."
There was another reverend gentleman, who was an
ordained priest in the Church of England, and had once
held an Irish living worth £400 a year. But he lost
every shilling he was worth on the turf, and one day, when
seized with the old gambling mania, he made an improper
use of a friend's cheque-book. He was staying at this
friend's house, and forged his name, having found the
cheque-book accessible. He was soon afterwards arrested
on Manchester racecourse, and, after trial, sentenced to
transportation for life.
In December, 1886, another clerical impostor caused
some noise, and there is some reason to suppose from his
own story that he had actually been ordained a priest in
the Church of Rome. This rests on his own statement, no
doubt, made when on his trial in Dublin for obtainiag
money under false pretences, the latest of a long series of
similar crimes. At that time he rejoiced in several aliases,
Keatinge being the commonest, but he was also known as
Moreton, with many variations of Christian names. His
offence was that he had received frequent help from the
Priests' Protection Society, on the pretence that he had
left the Church of Rome and that his abjuration of the
old faith had left him in great distress. The society on
these grounds had made him an allowance, and he had
often preached and performed clerical duty in Dublin
churches. He was charged with having falsely represented
himself to be a clergyman in holy orders, but his own
story was very precise and circumstantial. Keatinge made
out that he had studied at Stonyhurst and then at St.
Michael's College, Brussels ; thence he went to Rome, was ad'
mitted to orders, and for some time held the post of Latin
translator and general secretary to Cardinal Pecci of Perugia,
the present Pope Leo XIII. After that, he said that he
became chaplain and secretary to Cardinal d'Andrea, and
was soon afterwards given the degree of Doctor of Divinity
and made a Monsignore. He declared that he had become
TRE "COMTE BE MONTAGUE." 271
involved in the political struggle between Cardinal d' Andrea
and Cardinal Antonelli, and was imprisoned with the former in
the latter Cardinal's palace. From that time forth Dr. Keatinge
was the victim of constant persecution, but at last escaped
from Rome, by the assistance of a lady, who afterwards
became his wife, when he seceded from the Romish Church.
After that he appears to have lapsed into a life of vagabond-
age and questionable adventure. He suffered many con-
victions, mostly for false pretences, and the Dubhn affair
relegated him once more to gaol.
HARRY BENSON.
One of the most daring and successful of modern
swindlers was Harry Benson, who came into especial pro-
minence in connection with the Goncourt frauds and the
disloyalty of certain London detectives. His was a brief and
strangely romantic career of crime ; he was not much more
than forty when it terminated with his death, yet he had
netted vast sums by his ingenious frauds, and had long lived
a life of cultured ease, respected and outwardly most respect-
able. He came of very decent folk ; his father was a pros-
perous merchant, established in Paris, with offices in the
Faubourg St. Honore, and a person of undeniably good repute.
Young Benson was well and carefully educated : he spoke
several languages with ease and correctness ; he was a good
musician, was well read, had charming manners, a suave and
polished address. But from the earliest days his moral sense
was perverted ; he could not and would not run straight.
Benson belonged by nature to the criminal class, and if we
are to believe Lombroso and the Italian school, he was a born
criminal. All his tastes and predilections were towards fraud
and foul play.
Young Benson seems to have first made his appearance
in Brussels in 1870-71, when he was prominent among the
French refugees who left France at the time of the Franco-
German war. He had assumed the name and title of the
Comte de Montague, pretending to be the son of a General
de Montague an old Bonapartist. He lived in fine style, had
272 SWINDLERS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
carriages and horses, a sumptuous appartement, gave many
entertainments, and was generally a very popular fashionable
personage, much esteemed for his great courtliness and his
pleasant, insinuating address. Nothing is loiown of the
sources of his wealth at this period, but his first trouble with
the law came of a nefarious attempt to add to them. One
day the Comte de Montague called at the Mansion House,
in London, and besought the Lord Mayor's charitable aid for
the town of Chateaudun, which had suffered much from the
ravages of the war. Money was being very freely subscribed
to relieve French distress at the time, and the Comte had no
difficulty in obtaining a grant of a thousand pounds for
Chateaudun. This he at once proceeded to apply to his
own needs, for the Comte was no other than Benson. His
imposture was presently discovered, and he paid a second
visit to the Mansion House, but this time as a prisoner. The
escapade ended in a sentence of a year's imprisonment, during
which he appears to have set his cell on fire and burned him-
self badly. He was ever afterwards lame, and obliged to use
crutches ; an unmistakable addition to his signalement which
would have seriously handicapped any less audacious offender.
The more extensive operations in which Benson was
engaged followed upon his release from gaoL He was
estranged from his family in Paris, and, being obliged to
earn his own living, he advertised himself as seeking the
place of secretary, giving his knowledge of several languages
as one of his qualifications. This brought him into connec-
tion with a man who was to be his confederate and partner
in many nefarious schemes. A certain William Kurr engaged
him, and they soon came to an understanding, becoming
associated on equal terras. Kurr was a very shady character,
who had tried several lines of life. From clerk in a railway
office he passed into the service of a West-End money lender,
and then became interested in turf speculations. The busi-
ness of illegitimate betting attracted him as offering great
opportunities for acquiring fortune, and he was the originator
of several sham firms and bogus offices, none of which
prospered greatly until he fell in with Benson. From that
PARTNERSHIP WITH EURB. 273
time forth their operations were on a much bolder and more
successful scale. Benson's ready wit and inventive genius
struck out new lines of procedure, and there is little doubt
that quite early in the partnership he conceived the happy
idea of suborning the police. Kurr, under the name of
Gardner & Co., of Edinburgh, had come under suspicion, and
was being hotly pursued by a detective-officer, Meiklejohn,
who had been chosen from among the Scotland Yard officers
to act for the Midland Railway in the north. When the
scent was hottest, Kurr, by Benson's advice, approached
Meiklejohn and bought him over. This was the first step in
the great conspiracy which presently involved other officers,
who weakly sacrificed their honour to the specious temptations
of these scoundrels.
Benson, being half a Frenchman, and intimately acquainted
with French ways, saw a great opening for carrying on turf
frauds in France. The firm accordingly moved over to
French soil, and elaborated with great skill and patience a
vast scheme for entrapping the unwary. They first worked
carefully through the directories, Bottin and others, in order
to obtain the names and addresses of likely victims; when
eventually they were brought to justice some of these books
were found in Benson's quarters much marked and annotated.
At the same time they prepared an attractive circular, setting
forth in specious terms the extraordinary advantages of their
system of betting. These were distributed broadcast through
the country, accompanied by a copy of a sporting paper
specially prepared for this particular purpose. It was the
only copy of the paper that ever appeared, although it was
numbered 1,713. It had been printed on purpose in Edin-
burgh, and was in every respect a complete journal, containing
news up to date, advertisements, leading articles, columns of
paragraphs and notices, several of which referred in the most
complimentary language to an imaginary Mr. Montgomery —
Benson's alias in this fraud — and the excellence of his system
of betting investment. It was stated that this Mr. Hugh
Montgomery, who had invented the system, had already
netted nearly half a miUion of money by following its
274 SWINDLERS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
principles, and it was open to anyone to reap the same hand-
some profit. They had only to remit funds to the firm at
any of their numerous offices, and these were established in
London, or rather persons to receive letters at the addresses
given, Cleveland Road, Duke Street, St. James's, and else-
where.
This brilliant schenie soon brought in a rich harvest.
Many simple-minded French people swallowed the bait, and
none more readily than a certain Comtesse de Goncourt, a
lady of good estate, but with an unfortunate taste for specula-
tion. The comtesse threw herself eagerly into the arrange-
ment, and forwarded several substantial sums to London,
which were duly invested for her with good results ; for the
old trick was followed of at first allowing her to win.
Presently her transactions grew larger, till at last they
reached the sum of £10,000. Several bogus cheques were
sent her, purporting to be her winnings, but she was desired
to hold them over until a certain date, in accordance with
the English law. Yet these rapacious scoundrels were not
satisfied with such large profits. They wrote to the poor
comtesse that another £1,200 was necessary to complete
certain formalities. As she was now nearly cleaned out,
she tried to raise the money in Paris through her notary,
and this led to the discovery of the whole fraud.
Meanwhile the conspirators had been living in comfort,
pulling the wires from London. Benson had made himself
safe, as he thought, by extending his system of suborning the
police. Through Meiklejohn, a second officer, Druscovitch,
who was especially charged with the Continental business
of Scotland Yard, was approached and tempted. He was a
weU-meaning man, with a good record, but in very straitened
circumstances, and he fell before the tempting offers of the
insidious Benson. AU this time Benson was living in good
style at Shanklin, in the Isle of Wight. He had a charming
house, named Rose Bank, a good cook, numbers of other
servants, he drove a good carriage, and constantly entertained
his friends. One of his accomplishments was music; he
composed and sang charming French chansonettes with so
BENSON AND BESOUBOEFULNESS. 275
mucli feeling that they were always loudly encored. Benson
soon tried to inveigle another fly from Scotland Yard into his
web. Scenting danger from the news that Inspector Clarke
was hunting up certain sham betting offices, he invited him
down to his little place at Shanklin. Benson did not succeed
with Clarke, who, when placed on his trial with the other
inspectors, was acquitted. He must have been sorely tried,
for Benson showed consummate tact, and cleverly acted
upon Clarke's fears by seeming to incriminate him. Then
he offered a substantial bribe, which, however, Clarke was
honest enough to refuse.
When the storm broke Benson had early notice of the
danger from his allies in the police. Druscovitch warned
them that a big swindle had come in from Paris; it was
theirs. Already the French police had begun to act against
the firm. They had requested the Scotland Yard authorities,
by telegraph, to intercept letters from Paris which, it was
believed, contained large remittances. But Benson con-
trived to secure this telegram before it was delivered.
Knowmg that he had good friends, Benson held his ground ;
Druscovitch, on the other hand, became more and more
uneasy, thinking that he could not shield his paymasters
much longer. He had many secret interviews with them,
and pleaded desperately that he must ere long arrest some-
body, and he warned Benson to look out for himself. It
was time for the conspirators to think about their means
of retreat. So far they seemed to have held the bulk of
their booty in Bank of England notes, a very tell-tale
conmiodity which could always be traced through the
numbers. Benson solved this difficulty by deciding to
change the Bank of England notes into Scotch notes, the
numbers of which were not invariably taken on issue.
Through Meiklejohn Benson got rid of £13,000 worth,
travelling down to Alloa on purpose and getting Clydes-
dale Bank notes in exchange. To cover this operation,
Benson had deposited £3,000 good money in the Alloa
Bank. He was on very friendly terms with its manager,
and was actually at dinner with him when a telegram was
276 SWINDLERS OF MORE MODERN TYPE.
put into his hands warning him to decamp, for Drusco-
vitch was on his way down with the warrant to arrest him.
Benson bolted, but was, of course, obliged to forfeit his
deposit of £3,000.
When Druscovitch arrived his game, of course, was
gone. He still attempted to linger over the job, but the
authorities were more in earnest than he was, and England
became too hot for Benson. The exchange of Bank of
England into Clydesdale notes was known, and some
of the numbers of the latter. A watch was therefore set
upon the holders of these notes, and Benson thought it
wiser to escape to Holland. Soon after his arrival at
Rotterdam he and his friends were arrested. But here, at
the closing scene, while extradition was being demanded,
another confederate, Froggatt, a low-class attorney, nearly
succeeded in obtaining their release. He sent a forged
telegram to the Dutch pohce, purporting to come from
Scotland Yard, and to the effect that the men they had
got were the wrong people. The imposition was discovered
just in time, and the prisoners were handed over to a
party of London police, headed, strange to say, by Drus-
covitch in person. His complicity with the swindlers was
not yet suspected, and he was compelled to carry out his
orders. What passed between him and his friends is not
exactly known, but Kurr and Benson, after the manner of
their class, had no idea of suffering alone. That they
should turn on their complacent police assistants was a
matter of course, and one of their first acts in Millbank
Prison, where they were beginning their long terms of penal
servitude, was to make a clean breast of it and impUcate
the detectives.
When Clarke, Druscovitch, Meiklejohn, Palmer (and
Froggatt) were put upon their trial, the facts, as already
stated, were elicited, and it was found that the swindlers
had long secured the connivance and support of all these
leading policemen, except Clarke. A letter, which was im-
|:ounded, written by Meiklejohn to Kurr as far back as
1874, shows how eager Meiklejohn was to earn his money.
BENSON'S LATER OABEEB. 277
It was an early notification of the issue of a warrant, and
warned iiis friends to keep a sharp look out : —
"Deae Bill," it ran, "Eather important news from the North.
Tell H. S. and the Young One to keep themselves quiet. In the
event of a smell stronger than now they must be ready to scamper
out of the way."
It was said that for this important service Meiklejohn
received a douceur of £500. All these misguided men
were sentenced to various terms of imprisonment, and the
discovery of their faithlessness led to very important changes
in police constitution, and the creation of the now well-
known department for Criminal Investigation.
I can remember Benson while he was a convict at Ports-
mouth, where he was employed at light labour and might
be seen hobbling on his crutches at the tail end of the
gangs as they marched in and out of prison. He bore an
exemplary prison character and was released on ticket-of-
leave in 1887, having fully earned his remission. He was
not long in seeking new pastures, and soon used his ver-
satile talents and many accomplishments in fresh schemes
of fraud. It was his duty to report himself as a license-
holder to the metropolitan police, but this did not suit
so erratic a genius as Benson, and within a few months
he was advertised for in the Police Gazette, accompanied
by a woodcut engraving of his features with the following
description of the man " wanted " —
"Age 39, height 5 ft. 4 in., complexion sallovif, hair, whiskers,
beard, and moustache black (may have shaved) turning slightly grey,
eyes brown, small scar under right eye, frequently pretends lameness,
has a slouching gait, stoops slightly, head thrown forward, invariably
smoking cigarettes."
It will be seen from this that the use of crutches was
not indispensable to him, but was probably assumed as a
means of confusing his signalement. His many aliases
were published with the description ; some of the more
remarkable were George Marlowe, George Washington Mor-
ton, Andrew Montgomery, Henry Younger (the name he
278 SWINDLERS OF MOIiE MODERN TYPE.
went under at Rose Bank Cottage, Shanklin, Isle of Wight),
Montague Posno, and the Comte de Montague.
Benson's first act after release appears to have been to
ascertain whether he had inherited anything from his father,
whose death occurred while he was in prison. Nothing
had come to him, but his family did not quite disown
him, for a brother offered to find him a situation. This
Benson contemptuously refused, and took the first oppor-
tunity of reopening his relations with Kurr, who had been
released a little earlier. Soon after this the police missed
them, and they appeared to have crossed the Atlantic and
started in a new line as company promoters, mainly in
connection with mines of a sham character. Benson appears
to have done well in this nefarious business, and returned
to Europe, making Brussels his headquarters and carrying on
the same business, the exploitation of mines. He appears
to have gained the attention of the police, and the Belgian
authorities communicated with those of Scotland Yard.
Benson, was now identified and arrested. At his lodgings
were found a great quantity of letters containing Post
Office orders and cheques, which seem to have been sent
to him for investment in his bogus companies. Benson
next did a couple of years' imprisonment in a Belgian
prison, and on his release transferred himself to Switzer-
land, setting up at Geneva as an American banker with
large means. He stopped at the best hotels and displayed
all his old fondness for ostentation. Here he received
many telegrams from his confederates, who were stUl " work-
ing " the United States, all of them connected with stocks
and shares and the fluctuations of the market. He was in.
the habit of leaving these telegrams — which invariably dealt
with high figures — about the hotel, throwing them down
carelessly in the billiard-room, smoking-room, and other
apartments, where they were read by others, and greatly
enhanced his reputation.
At this hotel he became acquainted with a retired surgeon-
general of the Indian army, with an only daughter, to whom
he made desperate love. He lavished presents of jewellery,
BENSON'S LATER CAREER. 279
upon her, and so won upon the father that he consented to the
marriage. The old man was no less willing to entrust his
savings to this specious scoundrel, and on Benson's advice
sold out all his property, some £7,000 invested in India
stock. The money was transmitted to Geneva, and handed
over to Benson in exchange for certain worthless scrip which
was to double the doctor's income. Now, however, a telegram
summoned Benson to New York, and he left hurriedly. His
fiancee followed to the port at which he had said he would
embark, but missed him. Mr. Churchward— Benson's aliaa —
had gone to another place, Bremen, to take passage by the
North German Lloyd. The surgeon-general, trembling for
his earnings, applied for a warrant, and Benson was arrested
as he was on the point of embarkation. He was taken
back to Geneva, but on refunding live out of the seven
thousand pounds he was hberated. It was now discovered
that his presents to his fiancee were all in sham jewellery,
and that the scrip he had given in exchange for the £7,000
were reaUy worth only a few pounds. After this most
brilhant coup Benson abandoned Europe, re-crossed the
Atlantic, and resumed operations in America. He became
the hero of many fraudulent adventures, the last of which
led to his arrest. In the city of Mexico he impudently passed
himself off as Mr. Abbey, Madame Patti's agent, and sold
tickets on her behalf to the amount of 25,000 dollars. This
fraud was discovered; he was arrested and taken to New
York, where he was lodged in the Tombs. While awaiting
trial, wearied apparently by the law's delay, he committed
suicide in gaol by throwing himself over the railings from
the top storey, thus fracturing his spine.
MAX SHINBUKN.
The career of Max Shinburn cannot be cited in proof of
the old saying that honesty is the best policy. This notorious
criminal won a fine fortune, as well as much evil lame, by
his dishonest proceedings between 1860 and 1880, and alter
sundry vicissitudes, ended in Belgium as a millionaire, enjoy-
ing every luxury amidst the pleasantest surroundings.
280 t<WINBLER8 OF MOBE MODERN TYPE.
According to one account, Shinburn was a German Jew,
who emigrated to the United States rather hurriedly to evade
poKce pursuit. He found his way, it is said, to St. Louis, and
soon got into trouble there as a burglar ; his intimate know-
ledge of the locksmith trade was useful to the new friends he
made, but did not save him from capture and imprisonment.
Another story is that he was born in Pennsylvania of decent
parents, was well educated, and in due course became a bank
clerk. His criminal tendencies were soon displayed by his
defalcations ; he stole a number of greenbacks, and covered
the theft by fraudulent entries in the books. This ended his
career of humdrum respectability, and he was next heard of
at Boston, where he robbed a bank by burglariously entering
the vaults, through his skill as a locksmith. We have here
some corroboration of the first account of his origin ; if
he had begun life as a clerk he could not well have acquired
skill as a locksmith. It is strengthened by the fact that his
largest and most remunerative " aifairs '' were accomplished
by forcing doors and opening safes. It was said of him that
he could walk into any bank, for he could counterfeit any
key ; and that no safe, combination or other, could resist his
attack. The number of banks he plundered was extra-
ordinary; the New Windsor Bank of Maryland, a bank in
Connecticut, and many more, yielded before him ; and in
New England alone he amassed great sums.
Shinburn spent all he earned thus guiltily in wasteful
excess. He lived most extravagantly, at the best hotels,
consortLQg with the showiest people ; he was to be seen on all
racecourses, plunging wildly, and at the faro tables, where he
played high. This continued for years. He escaped all retri-
bution until a confederate betrayed him, in connection with
the wrecking of the Concord Bank, when at least 200,000
dollars were secured and divided among the gang. He was
taken at Saratoga, the fashionable watering-place, and his arrest
caused much sensation in the fast society of which he was so
prominent a member. His consignment to gaol checked his
baleful activity, but not for long. His fame as a high-class
gentleman criminal secured him considerate treatment, which
A RIGS- CLASS CRIMINAL. 281
on the free-and-easy system of many American gaols, meant
that his warders and he were on very familiar terms. One
evening Shinburn called an officer to his cell, and after a
short gossip at the door, invited him inside. Next moment
he had throttled the warder, overpowered him, and seized
his keys. Then, making his victim fast, he walked straight
out of the prison.
Once more re-captured and re-incarcerated, he once more
escaped. This time, by suborning his warders, he obtained
the necessary tools for sawing through the prison bars, and
thus regained freedom. He soon resumed his old practices,
and on a much larger and more brilliant scale. One of the
chief feats was the forcing of the vaults of the Lehigh Coal
and Navigation Company, at Whitehaven, Pennsylvania, from
which he abstracted 56,000 dollars. He somehow contrived
to obtain impressions of the locks, and manufactured the
keys. The famous detective Pinkerton was called in, and
soon guessed that Shinburn had been at work. Some of the
confederates were arrested, and presently Shinburn was taken,
but only after a desperate encounter. Now, to ensure safe
custody, the prisoner was handcuffed to one of Pinkerton's
assistants, and both were locked up in a room at the hotel.
Yet Shinburn, during the night, contrived to pick the lock of
the handcuff by means of the shank of his scarf-pin, and
shaking himself free, slipped quietly away. He fled to
Europe, and paid a first visit to Belgium, but went back to
the States to make one last grand coup. This was the
robbery of the Ocean Bank in New York, from which he took
£50,000 in securities, notes, and gold. With this fine booty
he returned to Belgium, bought himself a title, and — at
least outwardly — lived out his life an honest and respectable
citizen. We have seen that Sheridan, another American
" crook," spent some years in Brussels, and it is strongly
suspected that he and Shinburn were concerned in the
famous mail train robbery and other great Belgian crimes.
CHAPTER XII.
SOME FEMALE CRIMINALS.
Criminal Women worse than Criminal Men — Some Rise to first Bank of
Offenders — BeU Star — Comtesse Sandor — Mother Mandelhaum, famous
female Receiver of stolen Goods — The " German Princess " — Jenny Diver —
Mrs. Gordon Baillie, began as Miss Bruce, then Miss Ogilvie White — Her
dashing Career — Becomes Mrs. Percival Frost — The Crofter's Friend —
Triumphal Visit to Antipodes^ — On return Home* embarks on extensive
Frauds on Tradesmen — Run in at last, and sentenced to Penal Servitude —
Since Release has been again in Trouble— Big Bertha, the " Confidence
Queen" — Confidence Extraordinary — The Halliotts, husband and wife, and
Mrs. Willett.
It has been universally agreed that criminal women are
the worst of all criminals. " A woman is rarely wicked,"
runs the Italian proverb, " but when she is so, she
is worse than the man." We must leave psychologists
to explain a fact which is well known to all who have
dealings with the criminal classes. No doubt, as a rule,
women have a weaker moral sense ; they come more under
the influence of passion, and when once they stray from the
right path they wander far, and recovery is extremely
difficult. Many succumb altogether, and are merged in the
general ruck of commonplace, habitual crime. Now and
again a woman rises into the first rank of offenders, and some
female criminals may be counted amongst the most remark-
able of any depredators known. One of these appeared in
Texas not many years ago, and, as a female outlaw, the head
and chief controlling spirit of a great gang, she long spread
terror through the State. Bell Star was the daughter of a
guerilla soldier, who had fought on the side of the South, and
she was nursed among scenes of bloodshed. When little more
than a chUd she learnt to handle the lasso, revolver, carbine,
and bowie knife with extraordinary skill. As she grew up
BELL STAB. 283
she developed great strength, and became a fearless horse-
woman, riding wild, untamed brutes that no one else would
mount. It is told of her that she rode twice and won races at a
country meeting, dressed once as a man and once as a woman,
having changed her attire so rapidly that the trick was never
discovered. She was barely eighteen when she was chosen to
lead the band, which she ruled with great firmness and
courage, dominating her associates by her superior intelligence,
her audacity, and her personal charm. Her exploits were of
the most daring description; she led organised attacks on
populous cities, entering them fearlessly, both before and after
the event, disguised in male attire. On one occasion she sat
at the table d'hdte beside the judge of the district, and heard
him boast that he knew BeU Star by sight, and would arrest
her wherever he met her. Next day, having mounted her
horse at the door of the hotel — still in man's clothes — she
summoned the judge to come out, told him who she was,
slashed him across the face with her riding- whip, and galloped
away. Bell Star's band was constantly pursued by Govern-
ment troops ; many pitched battles were fought between them,
in one of which this masculine heroine was slain. Another
woman of the same class was of French extraction, and
known in the Western States under the sobriquet of " Zelie."
She also commanded a band of outlaws, and was ever lore-
most in acts of daring brigandage, fighting, revolver in hand,
always in the first rank. She was a woman of great intel-
lectual gifts and many accompHshments, spoke three
languages fluently, and was of very attractive appearance.
She is said to have died of hysteria in a French lunatic
asylum.
Many other instances of this latter-day development of
the criminal woman may be quoted. There was at Lyons
an American adventuress and wholesale thief who, having
enriched herself by robbery in the United States, crossed to
Europe and continued her depredations until arrested in
Paris. La Comtesse Sandor, as she was called, was another
of this type, who went about Europe disguised as a man,
and as such gained the affections of the daughter of a wealthy
284 80ME FEMALE GRIMINALS.
Austrian, whom she actually married. Theodosia W. made
a large' fortune m St. Petersburg as a receiver of stolen
goods, and managed her felonious business with remarkable
astuteness. Another notorious female receiver was Mother
Mandelbaum of New York, who, with her husband, William
Mandelbaum, kept a haberdashery shop in that city to-
wards the end of the 'Seventies. They were Jews and keen
traders. Their shop in Clinton Street was a perfectly re-
spectable establishment on the surface. The proper assort-
ment of goods was on hand to supply the needs of
regular customers. She served in the shop herself, assisted
by her two daughters, and did so good a business that
they might have honestly acquired a competence. But
Mother Mandelbaum was in a hurry to grow rich and had
no conscientious scruples. She soon opened relations with
thieves of all descriptions, and was prepared to buy all
kinds of stolen goods. Her dealings were said to be
enormous ; they extended throughout the United States
and beyond — to Canada, Mexico, even to Europe.
As time went on she developed into the champion and
banker of her criminal customers. Under cover of her shop
she ran a " Bureau for the prevention of detection," and was
always ready to bribe police officers who were corruptible,
or throw them off the scent, and, on due consideration, she
arranged for the defence of the accused. It was said that she
had secured in advance the services of certain celebrated
criminal lawyers of New York by paying them a retaining
fee of 5,000 dollars a year. When any of her clients were
laid by the heels, she acted as their banker, providing
funds if required, and helping to support their wives and
families while they were in custody. She was extremely
cautious in her methods. No one was admitted to the
office behind the shop, where the real business was done,
without introduction and voucher. Mother Mandelbaum
allowed none of the swag to come to Clinton Street. The
bulk of the proceeds of any robbery was first stored, and
the receiver invited to send an agent to examine and
report upon it. Having estimated its value, she then
THB BENEVOLENT MOTHER MANDELBAUM. 285
proceeded to haggle over the price, which eventually she
paid in cash, taking over the whole of the property and
accepting all the risks for its disposal. As a general rule,
she secreted it or shipped it off, and generally succeeded in
escaping detection. Once or twice, however, she came to
grief. The proceeds of a great silk robbery were found in
her possession, but on arrest and trial she was acquitted.
At last, in 1884, New York became too hot to hold her, and
she crossed the frontier into Canada, where she took up her
residence at Toronto, and is said to be still there, living a
quiet, respectable life. Report goes that she regrets New
York and the large circle of friends and acquaintances she
had gathered round her. In the days of her great activity
she kept open house to thieves of both sexes, gave hand-
some entertainments, employed a good cook, and had a
full cellar of choice wines. On the surface, too, she enjoyed
an excellent reputation as a liberal supporter of the Syna-
gogue and Jewish charities, and was generally esteemed.
THE "GERMAN PRINCESS."
Female sharpers have abounded in every age and country.
The feminine mind is so full of resource, a woman can be
so inventive, so clever in disguising frauds and keeping up
specious appearances, that we come upon the female adven-
turess continually. As far back as the seventeenth century
there was the celebrated "German Princess," who took in
everyone right and left. Although she was nothing more
than a common thief, the daughter of a chorister in Canter-
bury Cathedral, and the wife of a shoemaker, she passed her-
self off at Continental watering-places as the ill-used child
of a sovereign prince of the German Empire. At Spa she
became engaged to a foolish old gentleman of large estate,
and absconded with all her presents before the wedding-
day. Then she established herself at a London tavern
and, as an act of great condescension, married the land-
lord's brother, who suddenly found that she was a bigamist
and a cheat. Her committal to Newgate followed, but on
her release she resumed her title as the "German Princess "
286 SOME FEMALE GBIMINAL8.
and went on the stage to play in a piece named after her,
and the plot of" which was founded on the strange ill-usage of
this high-born lady. After this she resumed her robberies
and led a life of vagabondage, ia which she swindled trades-
rnen, especially jewellers, out of much valuable property.
Fate overtook her, and landed her at the plantations as a
convict; but even in Jamaica her impudent effrontery
gained her the friendship of the governor, and she soon
returned to England to resume her career as a rich heiress,
whereby she duped many foolish people and committed
numbers of fresh robberies. One day, however, the keeper
of the Marshalsea prison, who was on the look-out for
some stolen goods, called at the lodging which she occu-
pied, recognised her, and carried her off to gaol. She was
soon identified as a convict who had returned from trans-
portation, and her adventurous career presently ended at
the gallows.
JENNY DIVER.
Mary Youns, alias Jenny Diver, was of the same stamp as
the "German rrincess," but in a somewhat lower grade and
of a later date. Her business was pocket-picking chiefly,
her ad^oi'lness in which gained her the sobriquet as one
who " dived " deep into other people's pockets. She was
an/ Irish girl in service, who formed an acquaintance with
ia thief, and accompanied him to London. The man was
(arrested on the way, and Mary Young, arriving alone and
nelpless, soon joined a countrywoman, Ann Murphy, and
**;tried to earn her livelihood by her needle. Murphy told
Tier of a more lucrative way of life, and introduced her
to a club near St. Giles's, where thieves of both sexes
'assembled to practise their business, and she was taught
how to pick pockets, steal watches, and cut off reticules.
She soon displayed great dexterity. An early feat, which
gained her great renown, was stealing a diamond ring from
the finger of a young gentleman who helped her to alight
from a coach. Another clever trick of hers was to wear
false arms and hands, while her own were concealed beneath
EMILY LAWRENCE. 287
her cloak, to be used as occasion offered. It was her custom
to attend churches, and, when seated in a crowded pew,
make play on either side. Another clever device was to
join the crowd assembled to see the king on his way to
the House of Lords. She was attended by a footman and
several accomplices. Seizing a favourable opportunity,
between the Park and Spring Gardens, she pretended to be
taken seriously ill, and while the crowd pressed round her
with kindly help, her confederates took advantage of the
confusion to lay hands on all they could lift ; jewels, watches,
snuffboxes of great value were thus secured. Yet again,
accompanied by her footman, she pretended to be taken
ill at the door of a fine house and sent her servant in to
know if she might be admitted until she recovered. While
the occupants, who willingly acceded to her request, were
seeking medicines she snapped up all the cash and valu-
ables she could find. But she was at last arrested in the
very act of picking a gentleman's pocket and was trans-
ported to Virginia, from which she returned before the
completion of her sentence and resumed her malpractices
at home. Having made a successful tour through the
provinces, she returned to London, frequented the Royal
Exchange, the theatres, the Park, London Bridge, and other
places of the sort, where she preyed continually on the
public and with continued immunity from arrest, till she
was caught picking a pocket on London Bridge and was
again sentenced to transportation. Again she returned
within a year, and was finally arrested, tried a third time,
and now was sentenced to death.
Before passing on to more modern developments, it may be
interesting to mention briefly one or two other female criminals
well known between 1850 and 1870. Emily Lawrence, a
dashing adventuress and adroit, daring thief, had few
equals. She is described as a most ladylike and fascinating
person, who was received with effusion when she descended
from her brougham at a shop door, and entered to give her
orders. Her line was jewel robbery, which she effected on a
large scale, and long went scot free. At one time she was
288 BOMB FEMALE CRIMINALS.
I
" wanted " for stealing " loose " diamonds in Paris to the value
of £10,000, and was soon afterwards arrested for other jewel
robberies at Emmanuel's, and Hunt & Koskell's, in London.
An imprisonment for seven years followed, after which she
resumed her operations, choosing Brighton now, where she
stole jewels worth £1,000 while she engaged the shopman
with her fascinating conversation. Apprehended as she was
leaving Brighton, she asserted that she was a lady of rank,
but a London detective who came down soon proved the
contraiy, and she again got seven years. It was always said
that this extraordinary woman carried a number of valuable
diamonds with her to Millbank penitentiary, and succeeded
in hiding them there. A tradition obtains that the jewels
were never unearthed, and that the secret of the hiding-place
long survived among the fraternity of thieves. Women, it
was said, came as prisoners almost voluntarily, m. order to
carry out their search for the treasure, and a thousand
devices were tried to secure a lodging in the cell where the
valuables were said to be concealed. Whether they were
found and taken safely out of Millbank we shall never
know. Probably the whole story is a fable, and it is at
least certain that no jewels were secured when Millbank
was destroyed, root and branch, a few years ago (1895) to
make room for the Tate picture gallery.
Louisa Miles was another of the Emily Lawrence class,
who kept her own carriage for purposes of fraud, and called
herself by several fine names. One day she drove up to
Hunt & Roskell's as Miss Constance Browne, to select jewels
for her sick friend. Lady Campbell. Giving a good West-end
address, and a banker's reference, she asked that the valuables
might be sent home on approbation. When an assistant
brought them, he was told Lady Campbell was too HI to
leave her room, and they must be taken in to her. He
demurred at first, then jdelded, and never saw the jewels
again. After waiting nervously for half an hour the assistant
found he was locked in. When the police arrived to release
him the house was empty. The ladies had disappeared
with the jewels. The house had been hired furnished,
LADY THIEVES. 289
the carriage was also hired, and the footman in livery
Pursuit was quickly organised in this case of Hunt &
Roskell's, and Miss Constance Browne was captured in a
second-class carriage on the Great Western Railway, with a
quantity of the stolen jewels in her possession.
MRS. GORDON BAILLIE.
The modern female sharper is generally more inventive
and works on more ambitious lines than the foregoing,
although in criminality there is little to choose between the
old and the new practitioner. If the " German Princess "
had had the same scope, the same large theatre of opera-
tions, she would probably have outdone even the famous Mrs.
Gordon Baillie, whose extensive frauds were exposed some ten
years ago, and gained her a sentence of five years' penal servi-
tude. This ingenious person long turned the creduhty of the
British public to her own advantage, and, posing as a lady
of rank and fashion, she became noted for her heartfelt
philanthropy, her eager desire to help the distressed. It was
in 1886 that a certain Mrs. Gordon Baillie appeared before the
world as the champion and friend of the crofters of Skye ; a
dashing and attractive lady, in the possession of andple funds,
which she freely lavished in the interests of her proteges.
No one knew who she was or where she came from, but she
was accepted at her own price, and much appreciated, not
only in the island of Skye, when she was "on the stump,"
but also in the West-End of London, and by the best society.
She made a sensation wherever she went. She was a tall,
light-haired, fresh -complexioned woman, much given to
gorgeous apparel, and her fine presence and engaging ways
gained her admission to many good houses. Her movements
were chronicled in society papers ; she was often interviewed
by the reporters, and she had a bank balance and a cheque-
book as a client of one of the oldest banks in London.
AU this time the popular Mrs. Gordon Baillie was a
swindler and a thief, whose chequered career had commenced
by a term of imprisonment in the general prison of Perth,
who indulged in several aUases, had been twice married, and
290 SOME FEMALE CRIMINALS.
was so deeply engaged in shady transactions tliat she had
been very much "wanted," until she changed her identity
and thus evaded pursuit. She was born of humble parents
at Peterhead — her mother having been a servant, her father
a small farmer — and first became known to criminal fame
about 1872 as a pretty engaging young person who had
swindled the tradesmen of Dundee. She was there con-
victed of obtaining goods under false pretences, having hired
and furnished a smart villa, where she lived in luxurious
comfort until arrested for not paying the bills. She was at
this time Miss Mary Ann Sutherland Bruce, her own name
and she retained it after her release, when she returned to her
swindling courses, this time in Edinburgh, from which she
was obliged to bolt. Her movements were now erratic ; she
passed rapidly from London to Paris, from Paris to Kome,
Florence, Vienna, visiting aU the principal cities of Europe,
and leaving behind her unpaid tradesmen and disappointed
landlords, but turning up smiling in new places, and soon
securing new friends. As a proof of her audacity, about this
time she made overtures to buy a London newspaper, and
start in the management of a London theatre. She was now
resident in a pretty house near the Regent's Park, with a lady
companion, a brougham, and a well-mounted establishment.
Once again fate checked her career, in the shape of warrants
for fraudulent pretences, and she found it advisable to dis-
appear. When next she rose above the surface it was,
phcenix-like, in a new aspect, with a new name. She was
now Miss Ogilvie White, sometimes Mrs. White. During
this period she was summoned at the Mansion House by a
cabman, and was described as of York Terrace, Regent's Park.
Her first appearance as Mrs. Gordon Baillie was in 1885,
when she had the good fortune to become intimately
acquainted with an old baronet, a gentleman on the other
side of eighty, and already inclining to dotage. Under his
auspices she launched out again, had a charming house in
the West-End, and money was plentiful for a time. It was a
costly acquaintance for him; when the supplies ran short
(and she seems to have extracted quite £18,000 from him)
MBS. OOBDON BAILLIE. 291
she easily persuaded him to accept bills for large amounts,
which were readily discounted in the City until it was found
there were " no effects " to meet them. The aged baronet was
sued on all sides, and although his friends interposed declar-
ing he was unable to manage his own affairs, having signed
these acceptances under undue influence, a petition in bank-
ruptcy was filed against him, so that the claims, which ran
to thousands of pounds, might be thoroughly investigated.
Mrs. Gordon Baillie was much " wanted " in connection with
these transactions. But she was not to be found, and it was
reported that she had gone to Australia, although her visit
to the Antipodes was really made at a later date.
It was about this time that she married privately — for
she retained her more aristocratic surname — a certain Richard
Percival Bodeley Frost. Her husband was fairly well born
and had good connections, but he was put to hard shifts
for a living, and found his account in floating the bills
which his future wife was obtaining from the baronet above
mentioned. The manipulation of these considerable sums
gave him status as a man of substance, and he became
largely engaged in company promoting, entering into con-
tracts and other speculations. It was proved that he was
at this time entirely without means, yet he contrived to
get good backing from bankers in Lombard Street, and one
city solicitor lent him a thousand pounds for a week or
two on his note of hand. The money was never repaid,
and when Mr. Frost was finally exposed he appeared in the
bankruptcy court with liabilities to the tune of £130,000.
Meanwhile his wife had espoused the cause of the crofters
of Skye. She appeared there in the depths of a severe
winter, but, nothing daunted, went on stump through the
island, received everywhere with enthusiasm by the agita-
tors, whom she harangued on every possible occasion. Her
charity was profuse, it was said, although the source of
the funds she distributed was somewhat tainted. At
the end of her tour she collected £70 towards the defence
of the crofters about to be tried at Inverness, and for this
notable service she was presented with an address signed
292 SOME FEMALE CRIMINALS.
by the members for Skye and others. Now she went out
to AustraUa, partly on private business, partly to seek
assistance for her crofters and acquire lands on which they
might settle in the New World. Her visit was one long
triumph. She was warmly greeted wherever she appeared.
Colonial statesmen gladly fell in with her views, and when
she returned to England, it was with a grant of 70,000
acres from the Government of Victoria.
Frost, to whom she was no doubt married, joined her
in Australia, and the couple returned to England as Mr.
and Mrs. Roberts. She, however, resumed the name of
Gordon Baillie, and as such embarked upon a new career
of swindUng, which was neither profitable nor very success-
ful. Her system argued that she was no longer backed
by any capital, and that she was reduced to rather com-
monplace frauds to gain a livelihood. Her usual practice,
about which there is little novelty, was to order goods from
confiding tradesmen, pay for them with a cheque above
the value, and get the change in cash. The cheques were
presently dishonoured, but Mrs. Gordon Baillie had scored
twice, having both ready money and the goods themselves,
which she promptly re-sold. Frost was concerned in these
transactions, for the counterfoils of the cheque-book were
in his handwriting. The Frosts constantly changed their
address, moving from furnished house to furnished house,
adding to their precarious means by plundering and pawn-
ing all articles on which they could safely lay their hands.
In all this she was no doubt greatly aided by her
fashionable appearance and winning ways. Not only did
shopmen bow down before her, but she imposed upon the
shrewd pressmen who interviewed her, and towards the
end of her career, when funds were low, she persuaded a
firm of West-End bankers, hard-headed, experienced men of
business, to give her a cheque-book and allow her to open
an account. She soon had drawn no less than thirty-nine
cheques on their bank, not one of which was honoured.
When at last fate overtook her, and the police were set
on her track by the duped and defrauded tradesmen, she
A FASHIONABLE SWINDLER. 293
brazened it out in court, declaring that her engagements
were no more than debts, and that she was no worse than
dozens of fashionable ladies who did not pay their bills.
The prompt disposal of the goods she had obtained was,
however, held to be felonious. Nor would the judge allow
her plea that she always meant to replace the furniture
she had pawned. Severe punishment was her righteous
portion, and all who were associated with her suffered.
As Annie Frost she was sentenced to five years' penal
servitude ; her husband. Frost, to eighteen months. Since
her release, she has been reconvicted for the same class of
fraud, but she is, I believe, now at large.
BIG BEBTHA.
America has produced a rival to Mrs. Gordon BaiUie
in Bertha Heyman, sometimes known as "Big Bertha,"
sometimes as the " Confidence Queen," a lady of the same
smart appearance and engaging manners, who reaped a
fine harvest from the simpletons who were only too willmg
to believe ia her. One of her first exploits was to wheedle
a palace car conductor out of a thousand dollars when
travelhng between New York and Chicago. Soon after
that, with a confederate calling himself Dr. Cooms, she
was arrested for despoiling a commercial traveller from
Montreal of several hundred thousand dollars by the con-
fidence game. Her schemes were extraordinarily bold and
ingenious, and they were covered by much ostentatious
parade. It was her plan to lodge at the best hotels, such as
the " Windsor," the " Brunswick," and " Hoffman House," New
York, the " Palmer House " in Chicago, or " Parker's " in
Boston, and to have both a lady's-maid and a man-servant in
her train. She talked big of her influential friends, and was
always taken at her own price. Yet she was constantly in
trouble, and saw the inside of many gaols and peniten-
tiaries, but she came out ready to begin again with new
projects, often on a bolder scale. One of her last feats
was in Wall Street operations in stocks and shares. With
her specious tongue she persuaded one broker that she
294 SOME FEMALE CRIMINALS.
was enormously ricli, worth at least eight miUion dollars,
and by this means won a great deal of money. The fraud
was only discovered when the securities she had deposited
were examined and found to be quite worthless. Big Bertha
was gifted with insight into human nature, and is said to
have succeeded in deceiving the shrewdest business people.
Of late nothing has been heard of her.
CONFIDENCE EXTEAORDINAEY.
One of the most extraordinary stories ot a successful
confidence trick is told by Allan Pinkerton as having
come within his own knowledge at Baltimore.
In 1868 a rich old man named Willett died and left
behind a young and pretty widow. Mrs. Willett, after the
first year of mourning, was living at a Baltimore hotel, and
there became acquainted with a fascinating little French-
woman, Mademoiselle Villiers, who was supposed to have
just arrived in the United States. After some time
Mademoiselle Villiers introduced Mrs. Willett to a certain
Henry Halliott, the reputed son of a Federal officer ; hand-
some, of good connections, rich, and pleasant in manner.
Soon Mrs. Willett took Mademoiselle Villiers to live with
her, and Halliott became a frequent visitor at the house.
Mrs. Willett lost her heart to him, and the Frenchwoman,
to all appearance, favoured the suit. She had quite wormed
herself into the confidence of the widow, managed her house,
guided her in all matters, and advised her in regard to the
disposition of her real estate. Mrs. Willett in 1869 sold
property valued at 40,000 dollars and received the money;
this, of course, was known to Mademoiselle ViUiers.
Ere long Halliott became the widow's fiance, and matters
seemed approaching a successful denouement. But after
the sale of the property above mentioned, Halliott was
taken suddenly ill and was visited at his hotel by Mrs.
Willett, who was disconsolate. Day after day the illness
ran its course and the sick man was said to be getting
worse and worse, until at last a message summoned her
to her dying lover's bedside. She went, and in a seeming
ROMANTIC SWINDLING. 295
agony of remorse, whilst in the widow's arms, Halliott con-
fessed that the Frenchwoman was his wife, and, more than
that, she would soon become a mother. He appealed to
her to protect his wife and child when he was gone, and
the duped woman consented. Returning home, there was
a scene, but the Frenchwoman was forgiven, and Mrs.
Willett promised to carry out all Halliott's wishes. The
next day the man "died." Mrs. Willett did not attend
the funeral, but Jeannette Villiers or Halliott did.
There was no breach between the two women, no in-
terruption to their friendship ; they continued to live
together. Within a month Mrs. Willett consulted an attor-
ney, thence went to the executor of her husband's estate,
received from him 10,000 dollars, and in the presence of
witnesses at an hotel handed the money to the French-
woman as a free gift. Three months passed and a boy
was born to Mrs. Halliott at the Willett mansion. Mrs.
Willett's heart was touched, and when Jeannette was suffi-
ciently recovered, she was again taken to the hotel and
presented before witnesses with 40,000 dollars in Govern-
ment bonds, the proceeds of a further sale of Mrs. Willett's
real estate. One week from the day the last gift had been
made Mrs. HaUiott and the child mysteriously disappeared.
Time went by, and Mrs. Willett was inconsolable ; but her
eyes were not opened until she had consulted her executor.
He had made no objection when Mrs. Willett had given the
10,000 dollars, but he knew nothing of the gift of 40,000,
and, spite of the protests of the widow, he applied to Pinker-
ton to unravel the mystery. Little could be done ; Mrs.
Willett would give no information, Villiers had removed the
photographs and every clue before leaving the mansion.
Failing this, Pinkerton turned his attention to HaUiott's
rather mysterious death. He found out a certain hotel clerk
who had been discharged for irregularities, and who con-
fessed that he had helped Halliott to " die." It was further
disclosed that Halliott was living in luxurious comfort at St.
Louis, had married a French widow who had a young child,
and that they now went under the assumed name of Hilliers,
296 SOME FEMALE CRIMINALS.
an easy conversion of Villiers. Putting things together,
Pinkerton was convinced that he had found a clue to the
smart pair who had victimised Mrs. Willett. The executor
was determined to probe the matter to the bottom, whether
any of the 50,000 dollars was discovered or not. The strange
thing was that Mrs. Willett, who was now convinced that she
had been swindled, persisted in her determination to let the
couple live in peace. One of Pinkerton's detectives, who was
a dashing man of the world, found Halliott out at St. Louis,
got into his confidence, and extracted from him everything
in connection with his deeply laid scheme to rob Mrs. Willett.
Halliott and his partner were living in affluence at St. Louis,
and the man was now in a lucrative business. Piece by
piece the whole plot was divulged, and this is the story.
Halliott had exhausted his means ; had in the meantime
married Jeannette Villiers, but pretended to be single for the
purposes of plunder, so a conspiracy was formed to relieve
Mrs. Willett of her surplus wealth. Villiers won her con-
fidence and esteem, and then introduced her confederate,
who, as we know, succeeded in gaining the affection of the
widow. Halliott then pretended to die, after making a
dying confession and extracting an oath from Mrs. Willett
that she would never desert Villiers, and hence the first gift of
the 10,000 dollar cheque ; that afterwards Halliott suddenly
came to life in Mrs. Willett's presence. Mrs. Willett nearly
died of fright, but was so overjoyed at his being alive that
she forgave him, refused to prosecute, and the swindlers were
suffered to go unpunished.
There is a strange finale to all this. Mrs. Willett
presently married again, and with her husband remained
on the best terms with the Halliotts, whom they often met
in society.
297
CHAPTER XIII.
WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
Muxderera on a large Scale : Throw-back to tlie aboriginal Savage— Bichel a
German "Jack the Ripper" — As a pretended Fortune-teller lures Women
to their Death — Detected by a Dog — DumoUard a similar type in France —
Burke and Hare — Body Snatchers and Resurrectionists — The Murder of
the Italian Boy leads to Execution of Bishop and 'WilHams— Williams
supposed Author of -wholesale Murders in East-End — Two Families, the
Marrs and Williamsons, butchered — Williams commits Suicide before
Trial — Doubts of his being the Criminal — Troppmann and the Crime of
Fantin — His Plot against the Kinck Family and their Possessions —
Destroys first Wife and five Children, then one remaining Son — In-
veigles the Father into Alsatian Forest, and poisons him — -Troppmann's
Arrest Accidental as Kinck pere — Identity at last Ascertained — De
Tourville : only four known Murders proved against him — Marries
Money to secure it by Assassination — For the last Case in Tyrol sentenced
to Imprisonment for Life in a Fortress — Charles Peace: aU his Murders
not known : only those of Mr. Dyson and Constable Cock — Certainly many
more — His Career and extraordinary Character — My personal Dealings
with him.
I PROPOSE to deal next with the murderer on a large
scale. I mean the miscreant who " takes life as coolly
as he drinks a glass of water," and is no better than
the unreasoning wild beast that springs by mere instinct
on his prey. This is the blackest specimen of the bom
criminal, the " throw-back " and survival of the savage, the
brainless brute who is impelled to destroy life as a
matter of course if the fancy takes him, or to satisfy the
smallest needs, to secure the pettiest gains. Such an one is
made up of negative qualities. He has no feeling for others,
is quite callous to the pain he inflicts, performs his task with
ferocious yet mechanical insensibility, suffers no remorse for
his crimes. This type has often appeared ; its latest mani-
festation was in Jack the Ripper. But he had many
prototypes who happily did not escape retribution, and some
298 WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
reference will now be made to this class — the wholesale
murderer.
ANDREW BICHEL.
One of the earliest cases recorded is that of Andrew
Bichel, who lived at Regendorf, in Bavaria. His character
was strangely contradictory. Until his terrible misdeeds
were finally brought home to him, he did not enjoy a bad
reputation. He was not a drunkard, nor a gambler, nor
quarrelsome ; he was married to a wife with whom he lived
on good terms, had children, and was esteemed for his piety.
But below the surface he was a pilferer and petty thief;
suspected of robbing his neighbours' gardens, he was caught
by the master he served, an inn-keeper of Regendorf, stealing
hay from his loft. His nature really was abjectly and
inordinately covetous ; he was a coward who persisted in
his crimes because he seemed to have secured perfect
immunity from detection. They were committed on the
defenceless ; his victims were helpless, credulous women,
who trusted him and made no attempt to defend them-
selves. Cunning in him was allied to great cruelty, and both
were backed by such extraordinary greed that he thought
the pettiest plunder worth the greatest crime. " A man
thus constituted will commit no crimes requiring energy
or courage," writes the judge who tried him. " He will never
venture to rob on the highway, or break into a house ; but
he would commit arson, administer poison, murder a man
in his sleep, or, like Bichel, cunningly induce young girls
to go to him, and then murder them in cold blood for the
sake of their clothes or a few pence."
No suspicion was roused against Bichel for years. Girls
went to Regendorf, and were never heard of again. One,
Barbara Reisinger, disappeared in 1807, and another, Catherine
Seidel, the year after. In both cases no report was made to
the police until a long time had elapsed, and a first clue to
the disappearance of the last-named was obtained by a sister,
who found a tailor making up a waistcoat from a piece of
dimity which she recognised as having formed part of a
petticoat worn by Catherine when she was last seen. The
A MURDERER OF WOMEN. 299
waistcoat was for a certain Andrew Bichel, who lived in the
town, and who now followed the curious profession of fortune-
teller.
Catherine Seidel had been attracted by his promises to
show her fortune in a glass. She was to come to him in her
best clothes, the best she had, and with three changes, for
this was part of the performance. She went as directed, and
was never heard of again. Bichel, when asked, declared she
had eloped with a man she met at his house.
Now that suspicion was aroused against Bichel, his house
in Regendorf was searched, and a chest fuU of women's
clothes was found in his room. Among them were many
garments identified as belonging to the missing Catherine
Seidel. One of her handkerchiefs, moreover, was taken out
of his pocket when he was apprehended.
Still there was no direct proof of murder. The dis-
appearance of Seidel was undoubted, Reisinger's also,
and the presumption of foul play was strong. Some crime
had been committed, but whether abduction, manslaughter,
or murder was still a hidden mystery. Repeated searchings
of Bichel's house were fruitless ; no dead bodies were
found, no stains of blood, no traces of violence.
The dog of a police sergeant first ran the crime to ground.
He pointed so constantly to a wood-shed in the yard, and
when called off so persistently returned to the same spot,
that the officer determined to explore the shed thoroughly.
In one corner lay a great heap of straw and Htter, and on
digging deep below this they turned up a quantity of human
bones. They went a foot deeper, and found more remains.
Near at hand, underneath a pile of logs by a chalk pit, a
human head was found. Not far off was a second body,
which, like the first, had been cut in half One was believed
to be the corpse of Barbara Reisinger, the other was actually
identified, through a pair of pinchbeck earrings, as that of
Catherine Seidel.
Bichel stood defiant before the searching questions of the
judge ; he Ked continually, and was proved to have lied.
Still he would make no avowaL Even when confronted with
300 WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
the corpses of his alleged Yictims, as was then the custom in
Bavaria, he would not yield. Although so greatly agitated
that he all but fainted on the spot, he had yet the strength
of will to master his emotions, and when again asked if he
recognised his handiwork, he protested that he had never
seen the corpses before. " I only trembled," he protested,
when taxed with the weakness, " I only trembled at the sight.
Who would not tremble on such an occasion ? " But he
could not stand; he sank into a chair. All his muscles
quivered, his face was horribly contorted.
Yet a deep impression had been left on his mind, and
when relegated to prison " his imagination," as Feuerbach
says, "overcame his obstinacy." He made full confession of
these two particular crimes. Reisinger he had killed when
she came seeking a situation as maid-servant. He was
tempted by her clothes. To murder he had recourse to his
trade of fortune-telling, saying he would show her in a magic
mirror her future fate, and producing a board and a small
magnifying glass, placed them on a table in front of her.
She must not touch these sacred objects; her eyes must be
bandaged, her hands tied behind her back. No sooner had
she consented than he stabbed her in the neck, and it was
aU over with her.
This success emboldened him to repeat the operation.
He sought to entrap other girls, choosing always the best
dressed, and putting forward the bait of the magic mirror.
But he failed with three, and then caught Catherine Seidel
in the toils. The process was exactly the same as with
Barbara Reisinger, but this victim was not killed so easily.
The after part was the same.
Bichel now resolved to adopt murder as a trade, and
looked about him for fresh victims. But although the
motive was strong and his cunning great, he does not
seem to have enticed many more within reach of his knife.
The police heard of several cases in which he had used
the same lure of the magic glass upon girls who promised
to go to him dressed in their best, but who, fortunately for
themselves, thought better of it. They escaped, some by
MARRIED MURDERERS. 301
want of faith in the mirror, others by a secret aversion to
Bichel, a few by mere accident.
Bichel was found guilty and condemned to be broken
on the wheel, but the sentence was commuted to beheading.
DUMOLLARD.
Fifty years later the crimes of Bichel were almost exactly
repeated in France by Dumollard, a criminal who pursued his
dreadful calling for a dozen years, unknown as a murderer,
undetected at least, although long suspected of mysteriously
secret crimes, and a terror to his neighbourhood, one of
the Eastern departments, L'Ain, not far from the city
of Lyons. Dumollard came of a criminal family; his
wife, who was his accomplice, had been a beggar on the
highway. Up to the age of forty he was a labouring man in
the little village of MoUard, from which he took his name.
The exact date of his first crime was not proved, but once
embarked he continued his murders for twelve years. The
method was simple. Man and wife repaired to Lyons; the
woman called at a servants' registry office, engaged some
female servant, and gave her a country address. When the
girl travelled thither she was met somewhere by the man
Dumollard, who led her to a wood or lonely place, then
murdered her and took possession of her effects. Then he
proceeded to his cottage, knocked, using a watchword " Haidi!"
His wife, who was waiting, took over the plunder, while
Dumollard proceeded to bury the body of his victim.
This horrible pair lived in comfort on the proceeds of
these dastardly crimes. They saved money, bought land
and a slice of vineyard. Madame Dumollard wore the clothes
of the murdered girls, and at the time of arrest a large
wardrobe of such garments was found in the cottage. On
the woman's back was a shawl identified as the property
of their latest victim. Retribution came tardily, but it
came through DumoUard's failure to complete his crime
on one occasion; his victim escaped and described the
would-be murderer. Soon afterwards a body was found,
dead, in the depths of a lonely wood, but the police could
302 WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
gain no positive information. The neighbours were afraid
to speak, being in deadly fear of Dumollard. Several more
murders followed. There was truce then for three years,
after which they recommenced under the same circum-
stances, arousing the same suspicions.
The chief witness against Dumollard was his wife, who
made full confession and pointed out the places where the
victims had been disposed of It was found that one at
least had been buried alive. So deep was the indignation
when these miscreants were put upon their trial that the
crowd would have torn them to pieces on entering the
court. The man Dumollard is described as a rough-look-
ing, stolid, but seemingly inoffensive peasant. He had a
shock head of jet-black hair and a thick, short beard.
His dark eyes were sleepy and stupid until his evil pas-
sions were roused, when they lighted up with tiger-like
ferocity. His face was made hideous by a great sear just
over his mouth, which gained him the sobriquet of "Hare
Lip." His wife was a very little thin woman, with small,
cunning eyes, a reddish face, and an air of great effrontery.
Dumollard was guillotined, but the jury found extenuat-
ing circumstances for his wife, chiefly on account of her
evidence. On the very scaffold the man's cupidity was
shown. His last words to his wife, who accompanied him.
were to remind her that a villager owed them twenty-seven
francs.
BURKE AND HARE.
The curious honour of having added a word to the
Enghsh language must be accorded to the principal actor
in the series of atrocious crimes that devastated Edinburgh
about 1828. To " burke " means to suppress or destroy,
although not necessarily by such atrocious criminal methods
as those who invented the practice. There had been many
suspicious disappearances, but the police were at fault until
chance laid bare one particular case, and the revelations
of a "king's witness" did the rest. It now came out
that murder had long been rampant in the city. It was
BURKE AND HARE. 303
proved that there had been sixteen murders in a few months,
and many more suspected but not brought home to their
perpetrators. The high price paid for bodies at the medical
schools for anatomical purposes had created this dreadful
trade. The gang, of which Burke and Hare were the
most prominent members, numbered sixteen, and the
deeds were done in the various dens and houses occupied
by these miscreants. The sale of the body of a dead
lodger who had owed Hare rent was the origin, it is said,
of the traffic, which was remunerative, for the price paid
was from eight to ten guineas per subject.
The first discovery was made when certain lodgers in
Burke's house missed a woman to whom he had given
shelter the night before. They came, however, upon a
human arm under some straw, and at once informed the
police, who resolved to make strict search through the
medical dissecting-rooms of Edinburgh; At the school and
museum of Dr. Knox they heard that a subject had been
brought the previous night, and following the porter into
an underground cellar they found the body of the missing
woman in an old tea chest. It had been brought by
Burke and Hare in this same box. " Something for the
doctor," Burke said, as he had often said before, and it was
purchased for five guineas.
The two men were forthwith arrested, but clear proof
of the murder was wanting, and conviction seemed hardly
probable, when Hare was admitted "king's evidence," with
a promise of pardon in return for his disclosures. He un-
folded a tale of horror, which I will not transcribe, and
gave a long Hst of the victims who had suffered by the
hands of this gang. The plan was to first decoy, then
drug with laudanum in drink, then suffocate, so that the
" subject " might be handed over intact to the scientific pur-
chasers. Many of the murders had been committed in Hare's
house, among others a pretty young girl named Mary Pater-
son had been killed there, and Daft Jamie, a half-witted boy.
Burke before execution confessed, but maintained that Hare
was the more guilty. He had originated the deadly practice,
304 WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
had committed the first murder, and had persuaded the
others to join in.
Hare survived, it is said, for forty years after the execution
of his chief confederate, but as a pitiable blind mendicant in
the London streets. Soon after the trial he had been seized
by some workmen, who threw him into a lime pit, where
he lost his eyesight, but not his life.
THE RESURRECTIONISTS.
It is difficult to say whether Bishop, May, and Williams
found their inspiration in Edinburgh, or whether the same
scientific needs created the same demand. It is a fact that
about the same date, 1831, the supply of anatomical sub-
jects encouraged the same ghastly crimes. Bishop, the
notorious body-snatcher, made a confession in Newgate
before execution, in which he owned to having disposed of
between 600 to 1,000 bodies, but " declared before God,"
that they were all obtaiued after death, save in the one
case, that of the Italian boy, for which he suffered. But
Bishop began a second confession, which was unfortunately
interrupted, in which he acknowledged to sixty murders,
but gave no details.
The known victim was one of the itinerant minstrel class,
who showed white mice about the streets in a squirrel cage.
The three murderers had decoyed him into Bishop's house
in Shoreditch on the pretence of finding him work. There
he was given food and drink, the latter a cupful of rum
and laudanum, which sent him into a profound sleep in
less than ten minutes. They took him, as he was asleep
and insensible, and, having attached a rope to his feet, let
him slide head first into a well in the garden. After some
three quarters of a hour, passed by the murderers in stroll-
ing about Shoreditch " to occupy the time," they drew up
the body, now quite dead, stripped it, buried the clothes,
and leaving " it " in an outhouse, went off to trade it away.
At one place, Mr. Tuson's, in WindmiU Street, they were
too late; he had waited so long that he had been obliged
to buy what he wanted elsewhere. At Dr. Carpul's, in
THE ITALIAN BOY. 305
Dean Street, they -were not more successful, haggling long
over the price, which for such things varied between eight
guineas and twelve. Next day they hawked their subject
all over London; to school after school, to Guy's Hospital,
and to King's College, where at last they agreed with Mr.
Pentridge, the demonstrator, for nine guineas. The body
was then delivered, but some question arose as to a cut
on the forehead, and this seems to have first started sus-
picion, which was confirmed on closer examination. Mr.
Pentridge asked what had been the cause of death, but the
medical experts soon decided for themselves, having found,
beyond doubt, that blows had been inflicted and had caused
the death of an otherwise healthy person. So with one
excuse and another they delayed the body-snatchers until
the police could be called in.
The case against them was very cleverly put together.
The Italian boy and his white mice were identified by two
of his compatriots; it was proved that he had been seen
m the neighbourhood of Bishop's house. An innkeeper
swore to the purchase of rum, several chemists to that of
laudanum in small quantities. All three prisoners were
convicted and sentenced to death. Bishop and Williams
were hanged, but May, the third prisoner, was respited.
His own story, that he knew nothing of the crime, that
he had never seen the boy or the body until he was asked
to help in carrying it out for sale, was generally believed.
WILLIAMS.
There have been man-slayers as blood-thirsty as any of
the foregoing, as eager to kill on the slightest provocation, at
sign of danger or interference, to gain their ends, whether
great or small. They are ready to destroy any human being
that crosses their path or their plans, to destroy every actual
or potential enemy. Among the most prominent of this
type of murderer were Williams, Troppmann, Peace, and
de Tourville. Their black deeds shall be now briefly
described.
The first case, that of Williams, was never actually proved
306 WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
against him, for he committed suicide before the trial, and
doubts of his guilt have been freely expressed in later years.
It was fully believed at the time, and the murders of those
two whole families, the Marrs and the Williamsons, caused an
immense sensation. They, in fact, inspired the remarkable
monograph of De Quincey entitled "Murder as One of the
Fine Arts.''
The Marrs lived in the East End ; the head of the family
kept a draper's shop and did a good trade. At the close of one
busy day he sent oS' his maid-servant to buy oysters for
supper. She was absent for half an hour, spent in fruitless
search for the oysters, then returned to the shop and found it
closed and silent. No one answered her bell although she
rang several times. A watchman on his round, who had
already remarked that the shutters of the man's house were
not quite closed, came to help the maid in obtaining admis-
sion. So did a neighbour who had been disturbed, and who
suggested forcing an entrance by the back yard. The last-
named came himself, armed with a poker, and climbing the
wall entered the house, where he found a lighted candle in
the hall but no signs of life.
On the contrary, the first object he clearly made out was the
corpse of Mr. Marr, lying behind the counter, with the brains
dashed out of it. At a little distance, near the door, was Mrs.
Marr, also dead and showing terrible wounds in the head.
The floor of the shop was inundated with blood.
There was still the child of the Marrs to be accounted for.
The neighbours, hardly thinking that it would be injured, still
searched for it, and at last found its cradle in a corner of the
kitchen. Inside was the poor little thing barely a few months
old, with its throat cut so cruelly that the head was nearly
separated from the body. There was no apparent reason for
this needless crime. The child could never have been a
witness, nor could it well have given the alarm. It argued
that the murderer was in a state of homicidal mania, ready to
go any length sooner than be betrayed by an infant's cries.
The violence of the attack bore out this supposition, and the
murder was in consequence attributed to some lunatic at large.
"MURBER AS ONE OF THE FINE ARTS." 307
Very general consternation prevailed in the East End. No
traces of the murderer could be discovered. He had gained
very little by his slaughter of the Marrs ; what was to prevent
him from sweeping out of existence some other family which
promised more profitable results ?
In less than a fortnight another massacre occurred in the
same district. The victims were the landlord of a popular
little tavern in Gravel Lane, and his wife. The first knowledge
of foul play was afforded by a man who was seen escaping
from the inn by a rope of sheets hanging from the second
floor. As he dropped to the ground, he cried, " Murder ! they
are killing everybody in the house ! "
The first corpse found was that of Mr. Williamson, the
landlord. He lay on the stairs of the cellar horribly wounded
about the head, which was nearly severed from his body.
Close by lay a pair of tongs stained with blood, which had no
doubt been used in the foul attack.
Search was now made for Mrs. Williamson. She also had
been killed, so had her maid-servant. The two lay side by
side in the parlour on the ground floor. The brains of both
had been dashed out, and their throats were cut. The one
person who had escaped was the fugitive who had used the
sheets ; a lodger on the second floor. His story was that he
had been roused from his first sleep by loud cries of murder ;
that he had crept downstairs and come upon the murderer,
who was rifling Mrs. Williamson's pockets as she lay upon the
ground. He distinctly saw the man, dressed in a long, loose
great-coat, very dark in colour, and " looking like a gentle-
man." His was the only direct evidence of the appearance of
the murderer : " A taU man, six feet high, well-dressed, and
looking like a gentleman."
Yet four days later quite a different person was arrested
on suspicion of the Williamson murder. The facts against
him were not strong, but they sufficed for the police. He was
an Irish sailor who lived in a seamen's lodging-house ; his
name was Williams, and the suspicious circumstances that
led to his arrest were : —
.1. His return to his lodging about midnight on the
308 WHOLESALE SOMICIDES.
evening of the crime, and the belief that he had been
drinking at Williamson's.
2. His anxiety that his room mate should extinguish his
candle.
3. His being in possession of a £1 note and some silver,
although previously he was without funds.
4. That a pair of muddy stockings, supposed to be his,
were found in the dormitory; and,
5. That he had shaved off his whiskers.
To each and aU of these WilUams had a perfectly good
answer.
His lingering at the tavern was nothing strange ; others
did the same sometimes, and the whole of the quarter was
given to late hours. Williams had asked his comrade to
extinguish the light because he was reading in bed and there
was a danger of fire ; that his stockings were muddy proved
little, the whole neighbourhood was muddy, and, besides, there
was nothing to show that these were Williams's. The last
fact, that he had shaved his whiskers, was the most suspicious,
but it was scarcely enough to substantiate a criminal charge.
It was a weak case with many points in favour of the
defence. Williamson, the landlord, had remarked a stranger
loafing about the premises that evening and had desired
the watchman to take him up. This could not have been
Williams, who was an habitue of the inn. The lodger,
who had seen the murderer at his work, did not recognise
him; yet he knew Williams well.
On the other hand fresh evidence was collected against
the accused. The weapons employed in the murder of the
Marrs had been a ship carpenter's maul, broken at the point,
and a long ripping chisel. Both were found in the house,
and the former was covered with marks of fresh blood. It
was now identified as the property of a young Swedish
sailor, by name John Peterson, who, on going to sea, had
left his tool-chest with his landlord to keep till his return.
This landlord kept the " Pear Tree " inn, and it was there
that the accused, Williams, lodged. The maul, which was
marked " J. P.," as were the other tools, had been lying in
FACT8 AGAINST AND FOB WILLIAMS. 309
the very room where Williams slept, near his " sea-bed." This
broken-pointed maul was not very safely kept, however, for
a witness described how her children often played with it
in the square near the " Pear Tree " inn.
Another piece of damaging evidence was given by a
laundress who washed the prisoner's linen, and who stated
that Williams had given her a shirt to wash which was much
torn and stained with blood. This was just before the
murder of the Marrs, but he gave her a second shirt in the
same condition a few days after the crime. To this the
prisoner replied that he had got into a quarrel with some
Irish coal-heavers, and the shirt was torn and stained with
blood during the fight.
Such was the case against Williams, backed mainly by
circumstantial evidence, and there it ended. For while the
magisterial inquiry was still in progress the prisoner hanged
himself in his cell at Coldbath Fields prison. Thus the
murders must be classed with other mysterious crimes ;
their perpetrator was never positively known nor the
motive that inspired them. It was not greed, for no
robberies followed. In the house of Mr. Marr £160 in
notes and cash was found, nor was anything abstracted
from Williamson's public-house. There were, no doubt,
many suspicious points against Williams, most of which
have been set forth. Yet another has not been men-
tioned : that he had been an old shipmate of Marr's. Both
had sailed in the Dover Castle East Indiaman, Marr as
captain's servant, Williams before the mast. Marr had
been " sober, peaceable, diligent, and obliging," and so won
upon his master that on the ship's return home he helped
him to establish a shop in Ratchff Highway. Williams,
on the' other hand, was idle, dissolute, and quarrelsome, and
dismissed the ship. Here were the secret motives of envy
and hatred; but nothing to show that they had impelled
Williams to the bloody deed. Moreover, if the previous
acquaintance afforded suspicion with regard to the Marrs,
no such suggestion accompanied the case of Mr. Williamson ;
while it was quite clear that the only witnesses who had
310 WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
set eyes upon the actual murderer described him as very
different in appearance from WiUiams.
Can it have been an early case of " Jack the Ripper," or
" Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde " ?
TROPPMANN.
This later specimen of the class under consideration
must always hold a foremost place in the ranks of atrocious
murderers. Tropmann was little more than a lad when he
destroyed his eight victims. The motive in his case was
perfectly clear.
He desired, by removing every member of the Kinck
family, to appropriate their small fortune and secure a
provision for his own guilty self It is terrible to think
how every step in this homicidal scheme was planned
carefully, precisely, and with extreme deliberation ; when
all was prepared the crime was consummated with brutal
completeness and unshaken nerve. He was then not more
than nineteen, a smooth-faced, beardless boy, with an open
countenance, and soft sensuous eyes that sometimes flashed
fire ; something of the beauty of youth and innocence stUl
hung about his face, and his short slight figure seemed at
first sight weak and immature. He was endowed really with
great muscular strength and great activity. He could
jump his own height and run like a hare. On closer
inspection it was seen that his hands were almost gigantic,
great broad, bony, hairy hands with very long fingers and
enormous, really deformed, thumbs. Taken unawares, he
had an air of ferocity, heightened by a sneer.
Of German extraction, he resided in Paris with his father,
an ingenious old rascal with a turn for chemistry, who was
engaged in coining and in passing false money, which was
manufactured in the Vosges for distribution in and about
Paris. Young Troppmann had made the acquaintance of
a Frenchman named Kinck, a manufacturer in easy circum-
stances, who resided at Roubaix, and who showed the lad
much kindness. Kinck was of a credulous nature and
quickly entered into a scheme which was propounded by
THE MASSACRE OF THE EINGK8. 311
Troppmann for securing him great wealth. From the first
Troppmann had marked his friend down as his prey and
slowly matured a plan for acquiring his possessions.
The crime of Pantin was the result. It was only dis-
covered by accident, Troppmann himself only arrested by
chance. One day a workman in the open ground beyond
the Butte de Chaumont, near Paris, was shocked to find
traces of blood upon the ground ; and at one point, where the
earth had been recently moved, he picked up a blood-stained
handkerchief. With the assistance of this, and under the
eyes of the police, he presently dug up six bodies which had
been recently buried, the bodies of a woman and five children.
On examination of the garments worn by the children, it was
found that the buttons bore the name of a tailor of Roubaix,
and it was soon ascertained that the murdered family were
named Kinck, and that they had been summoned to Paris by
the father, Jean Kinck, where they arrived on the 19th of
September, 1869. Further investigation told the police that
a certain Jean Kinck had lodged on that date at an hotel
near the Northern railway station, who registered himself as a
resident of Roubaix, in the Rue d'Alouette. On the after-
noon of the 19th a woman with five children had come to
this hotel and asked for Jean Kinck, but he was out. She
took bedrooms for herself and children, left her baggage,
and the whole family went out again. She never returned,
nor did Jean Kinck until the following morning, when he
went up to his room, quickly changed his clothes, came down-
stairs and disappeared. Everything now pointed to Kinck's
being the murderer of his wife and children. Further evi-
dence against him was aiforded by a cabman, who had actually
driven a party of seven — a man, woman, and five children —
across to Pantin, where they had alighted, and he had seen
no more of them, but thought he had heard the distant cries
of children. On being taken to the Morgue, he identified the
bodies of the persons he had carried. All this fixed the crime
more and more strongly upon Jean Kinck. It was not
difficult to obtain his signalevnent from Roubaix, and this
was presently circulated through France. The horrible
312 WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
nature of the crime had greatly excited pubUc opinion, and
everyone was on the alert to catch this merciless murderer.
Suddenly the news came that he had been arrested at
Havre, and imder strange and dramatic circumstances. It
appeared that a young man, so young indeed that on the
face of it he could not be the man wanted — the father of
six children — was inquiring, in a cafd on the quay side at
Havre, as to the formalities to be observed in taking a
passage to America. The man was overheard by a gendarme,
who was seated at a neighbouring table, and the officer of the
law remarked that it was first necessary to produce papers in
order : " Where are yours ? " The would-be traveller was com-
pelled to admit that he had none ; on which the gendarme,
with an eye to business, promptly took him into custody.
The prisoner was searched at the nearest police office, and on
him were found a number of documents connecting him with
the Pantin murder and the family of Kinck. These were
mostly receipts for money, a certain amount of stock,
memoranda concerning the purchase of houses and other
property, a pocket-book with more papers, two watches, and
various other articles. It was concluded that the man seized
was Jean Kinck himself, although there was an absolute
difference between the appearance of the prisoner and the
description of Jean Kinck circulated through France. Among
other papers found on him were letters addressed to Jean
Baptiste Troppmann, and when he was presently interrogated
by the magistrates, he admitted that that was his real name.
The method of interrogating a suspected criminal in
France is well known, and although it may bear hardly upon
really innocent persons, it has often undoubtedly the effect
of bringing real guilt to light. Troppmann, after the first
interview with the instructing magistrate, stated that he had
been associated with Jean Kinck and his son Gustave in the
murder of Madame Kinck and the children, but he stoutly
maintained that he had taken no part in the actual crime.
But now a seventh body was discovered very near the spot
where the other six had been unearthed, and, after some
difficulty, this was identified as another member of the Kinck
TEOPPMANN. 313
family, Gustave, tlie eldest boy, about sixteen years of age.
This satisfactorily disproved his connection with the other
murders. It was still possible, however, that Jean Kinck
might be the guilty person, but he was still not to be found.
The last heard of him was that he had left Roubaix on the
24th of August, nearly a month before the discovery at
Pantin, saying that he would be only absent a few days ; and
inquiries made from this point brought out that he had
arrived at a place called BollwiUer, in Alsace, where he was
met by Troppmann, and the two together travelled by
ominibus to a distant point named Soultz. Jean Kinck
had not been seen since, although letters purporting to be
from him, but not in his handwriting, had reached Madame
Kinck at Roubaix, one of them being to the effect that
Gustave Kinck, the son, should go to his father in Paris.
The lad went to his death ; because he was met by Tropp-
mann, who took him to an hotel, which they were seen to
leave together.
At last definite news was received concerning Jean
Kinck. A thorough search of the neighbourhood in which
he had been last seen resulted in the discovery of his body,
not far from Watteweller, in the depths of a forest, and at the
foot of the ruins of the old castle of Herrenflung. It had
been roughly buried there, and a heap of stones had been
piled on the top of the grave the better to conceal the body.
It was not easy to see, at first, what had been the cause of
death, but presently the evidence of the medical experts dis-
covered that Kinck had been poisoned, and by prussic acid.
Kinck had been persuaded to accompany Troppmann to
this lonely spot by a very specious tale. He must have been
of a singularly credulous nature to have believed what Tropp-
mann told him ; namely, that he had discovered a gold-mine
in the Vosges mountains. Kinck was delighted, and entered
fuUy into a scheme for the establishment of a pretended
factory at Guebvillier, which was to cover mining operations
to get out the gold. For this purpose Kinck foolishly gave
Troppmann a power of attorney — in other words, the complete
control of his property — and this power was amongst the
314 WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
papers found upon Troppmann at Havre. The most profound
secrecy was to be observed, lest others should work the gold-
mine, and Kinck readily joined Troppmann, as has been
described, in order to verify the store of precious metal in the
mountains. It is supposed that on the road to the chateau
in the forest, Troppmann handed his companion a flask which
contained the prussic acid, and thus accomplished the first
murder. The second crime was the disposal of the eldest
son, Gustavo ; who, following the supposed instructions of his
father, proceeded to Paris, as has been said. The morning
after his arrival he went out with Troppmann, and never
returned. The exact method by which Troppmann made
away with this second victim was never known, but he
certainly buried him in the plain of Pantin, and took posses-
sion of all his effects. Several articles belonging to Gustave
were found on Troppmann's person when arrested, and at his
lodgings.
It is unnecessary to follow this atrocious drama further.
The evidence against Troppmann was overwhelming ; and,
notwithstanding the magnificent speech in his defence from
the eloquent Maitre Lachaud, he was sentenced to death, and
died on the guillotine.
DE TOUBVILLE.
There was only one murder proved against the criminal
who went by this name, and his right to it was never
established. He was undoubtedly guilty of others, but was
never called to account for them, and if the whole of his
Hfe could be fully exposed it would be certainly that he had
not rested satisfied with these occasional crimes. He was (is,
it might be said, for a year or two back he was still aUve
in an Austrian prison) of the class of the unscrupulous, un-
hesitating man-slayer, one of the same type as Troppmann
and the rest.
De Tourville was a Frenchman. His fuU name was
Henri Dieudonne Pineau de Tourville, but the aristocratic
sufiix was probably assumed. He was first met with in Paris,
where he was a waiter in a restaurant in the early seventies.
THE WIFE MURDEBEB. 315
A pleasant, ingratiating fellow, no doubt, then and after-
wards, if he chose, and this won him the protection of a
travelling Englishman, whom he accompanied to various
places abroad. It was on these tours, probably, that he
picked up English. His master, or patron, was his first
victim, although exactly how he made away with him never
transpired.
We next come across de Tourville at Scarborough, where
he was provided with ample funds, cutting a dash as
a French count and quite a great personage. There he
made the acquaintance and won the aifections of a lady
of good fortune, who presently became his first wife. De
Tourville's money by this time had run low, and he was
clever enough to get a considerable sum out of his mother-
in-law, his excuse being that cheques or remittances he had
expected from abroad had not arrived. The advance thus
made, which covered the expenses of his honeymoon trip, he
could not pay on his return, and this brought him to the
commission of his second great crime.
He called one day to see his mother-in-law and, strange
to say, he brought a pair of pistols in his pockets. When
he was alone with her a pistol shot was heard, and de
Tourville ran out shouting that she had killed herself. His
explanation was almost ludicrously improbable, and was to
the effect that the poor woman had been looking down the
barrel of one of the pistols, which was loaded, and it had
gone off in her hands. Even then, when there was nothing
known of de Tourville's real character, this story was not
exactly believed, and a Scotland Yard detective was sent
down to report upon the case.
The report of the officer — he was one of the detectives
afterwards involved in the "great turf frauds" case — was,
strange to say, favourable to de TourvUle. The inquest was
hurried over without proper examination of the body, which
was buried, and no more said about the case. But
by-and-by — it will be best to complete this criminal episode
here — when de Tourville was awaiting extradition for his
last murder, the mother-in-law's mysterious death was
316 WHOLESALE H0MIGIBE8.
remembered, and her body was exhumed and examined. It
was found that the wound that had caused death was
in the head, but at the back of the skulL So she could
not possibly have shot herself there while looking down the
barrel, and beyond aU question she had been murdered from
behind. This fact was fully established by an examination
of the skull by that eminent medico-legist, Mr. Thomas Bond,
who has so often rendered valuable service to the police
authorities.
De Tourville, freed of his mother-in-law, proceeded next
to rid himself of his wife — his first wife, remember, who now
began to pine and fade away. She was so constantly ill-
used, so constantly ailing, that one friend of the family, who
had access to the house, had his doubts about this illness.
He strongly suspected that the invalid, who was invariably
attended by the husband, and by him alone, taking her medi-
cines and everything from his hands, was being done away
with — neither more nor less. But again the matter was '
hushed up when this third victim died, whether of poison or
of a broken heart, or both, will never probably be known.
She left de Tourville two children and some property,
including a house which was secured to the infants. De
Tourville saw a fresh chance of acquiring a fortune, and,
having insured the house and its contents for a large amount,
burned it down. The crime of incendiarism was never fully
proved, but suspicion was so strong that the insurance office
refused to pay the policy. De TourviUe's own children
narrowly escaped death in the conflagration. He had by
this time become naturaUsed as an Englishman. To give
himself a better position he entered the Temple as a student,
and in due course was called to the Bar. Now he met
the lady who was to become his fourth, so tar as known,
and, at any rate, his last victim. This murder was destined
to bring down weU-merited retribution upon him.
He was, of course, a systematic fortune-hunter, and, need-
less to say, his second wife was rich. She had a separate estate
worth £40,000 to £50,000, the whole of which de Tourville
arranged should come to him after her death. She, poor
A SYSTEMATIC FORTUNE-EUNTEB. 317
infatuated creature, in thus yielding to his greed, practically
signed her own death warrant. He did not wait long to
efiect his fell purpose, for he only married in November,
1875, and in July, 1876, he had compassed her destruction.
There was a simplicity in this last crime which amounted
almost to genius, and it was only unsuccessful because his
explanations were not sufficiently plausible to satisfy the
Austrian officers of justice.
One fine morning Mr. and Mrs. de Tourville, who were
making a tour in the Austrian Tyrol, left a little town, called
Trafoj, in order to visit the Stelvio Pass. They drove in
a carriage and pair as far as Francishohe, meaning to go on
still further to Ferdinandshohe, but as time ran short and
they could not complete the whole journey in the day, the
party returned to Trafoj for the night.
On the way back the de Tourvilles left the carriage,
meaning, as they said, to do the rest of the journey on foot.
It was a pleasant evening for a walk. The scenery of the
Pass was very beautiful, high cliifs above, long slopes below
the road, falling to where a mountain river rushed noisily
in the hollow — a romantic but lonely spot, with a deep
ravine, just suited to the accompHshment of de Tourville's
murderous plans. All through this journey both man and
wife appeared to be on the most excellent terms, according to
the coachman's evidence. No cause of quarrel, no difference
between them, yet de Tourville had made up his mind to
kin the poor confiding creature in the Pass.
When, late in the evening, he reached the hotel at Trafoj,
he was alone. His wife, he said, had fallen over some rocks ;
he feared she had intended suicide ; would some of the people
at the inn go back with him, and either rescue or recover
her ? A search party was organised, and went, accompanied
by the head of the local gendarmes, to the spot indicated by
de Tourville. The searchers went down the slope, and
presently came upon a woman's body quite at the bottom,
near the stream, already dead.
De Tourville, who had remained upon the road above, in
the carriage, when he heard of its recovery, called out to the
318 WSOLESALE HOMICIDES.
searchers to bring it up. But the stolid yet shrewd gendarme
refused, saying it must remain where it lay until full inves-
tigation had been made of the causes of death. There were
some suspicious facts about the case which counselled him
to be cautious. It seemed quite impossible for Mrs. de
Tourville to have rolled down so far. Great boulders and
rocks intervened, which would certainly have checked her
downward progress. Besides, a body falling from such a
height would have followed an irregular course ; whereas the
marks on the undergrowth all showed that it had moved one
way, lengthwise, as if it had been dragged along.
So the chief gendarme bade de Tourville to consider
himself under arrest. The case must be cleared up before he
could be allowed to leave Trafoj. Suspicion was so strong
against de Tourville, in this worthy man's mind, that he
would not suffer him to go to a neighbouring village to
telegraph a message to England.
Nevertheless, after a detention of some days, followed
by a magisterial inquiry, the accused was discharged from
custody, and presently returned to England.
Yet the Austrian police were not quite satisfied. A
further and closer examination of the corpse revived sus-
picion. The idea of accident, and still more of suicide, was
found to be untenable. The body could not have rolled
down the slope as it did, by pure force of gravity. It must
have been dragged down. There were numerous indica-
tions, bruises, and torn and ragged clothes, to prove that
there had been a sharp encounter, a fierce struggle between
the unfortunate victim fighting for very life, and the ruth-
less miscreant resolved on slaughter. These evidences were
so convincing that the Austrian Government, having traced
de Tourville to London, demanded his arrest and extra-
dition on the capital charge.
It was in the early days of extradition. De Tourville was
now rich with his murdered wife's inheritance, and he could
pay handsomely for legal assistance. The case was hotly con-
tested in the courts, and there was a long delay, but in the
end de Tourville was surrendered to the Austrian authorities.
A CRIMINAL OF MY AGQUAINTANOE. 319
He was eventually tried for his life, and sentenced to
twenty years' imprisonment in a fortress.
CHARLES PEACE.
I will close this list with some account of a famous
criminal of this class, one with whom I had some personal
acquaintance in the closing scenes of his desperate career.
Charles Peace might be classed under another head, as a
most daring and successful burglar, but he was guilty of
the still greater offence of murder, and on a wholesale
scale. Only two murders were definitely brought home to
him, that of Mr. Dyson, at Banner Cross, near Sheffield,
for which he was executed, and the earlier one at Whalley
Range, near Manchester, for which William Habron was
wrongly convicted, as has already been told.* But it is
well known that when Peace was " at work " he always
carried weapons, and was ever ready to use them. It is
probable, therefore, that in his long career of crime, he
frequently took Ufe, and with as much cool recklessness
as any of the murderers I have just described.
Peace long escaped retribution, and was in fact only
captured by accident at last. A constable, named Robinson,
who was on duty on Blackheath Common on the night
of November 17th, 1878, came upon a burglar in a house
in St. John's Park, and proceeded to apprehend him. The
burglar at once defended himself, and fired five shots from
his revolver at the constable, who although desperately
wounded, secured him. They had a desperate hand-to-
hand encounter, but the burglar, who was a small man,
was at length thrown to the ground. Even there he con-
tinued to struggle, and endeavoured to stab his captor with
a sheath knife. When the prisoner was got to the station
it was found that he had a revolver strapped to his wrist
It was a brand-new weapon of first-class American make.
He refused to give any name or address, and, as his face
was stained dark with walnut juice, he was mistaken at first
for a mulatto or half-caste. When pressed he said he was
* 8e6anie, page 215.
320 WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
a half-caste from the United States, named John Ward,
but after a fortnight of search and investigation, the detec-
tives ascertained that he was called Johnson, and that he
resided in a comfortable house in the most respectable
part of Peckham. This house was closely searched and in
it were found a number of pawn-tickets, referring to gold
and silver plate, and a quantity of jewellery, soon verified
as the proceeds of recent burglaries. The inquiries did
not end there, and it was at last elicited that Ward, alias
Johnson, was really a professional burglar, named Charles
Peace, who was, at that very time, much wanted for a
murder near Sheffield, committed on the night of Novem-
ber 22nd, 1876. It had been put about after that afi'air
that Peace had made away with himself, but, as a matter
of fact, he had only removed to a new neighbourhood,
and, resuming operations as a burglar, had gathered up a
quantity of spoil in the East Riding of Yorkshire, especi-
ally at HuU. Thence he moved to Nottingham and took
up his quarters with a near relative, who continued to
give him shelter, although a large reward was being offered
for his apprehension. He made Nottingham a centre for
warehouse robberies, in which he got large quantities of
silk goods. A hue and cry was now raised for him,
but he was not to be found. It was reported that he had
gone to the Continent, but, although he reaUy leit Notting-
ham for a time, he doubled back there, and continued his
depredations in the Midland counties.
At last he moved to London, and, some six months
after the Banner Cross murder, settled in Lambeth. The
time of his residence in that district was signalised by a
series of great burglaries ; they succeeded each other so
fast and were so mischievous, that it was thought they
were the work of a large gang. But Peace acted then,
as always, single-handed. This was a cardinal principle
with him, to work always alone. He said he would have
no pals or partners, they only interfered at the wrong
time, or betrayed and gave him away when there was
danger. After he had devastated Lambeth, he went to
A MASTER HAND. 321
Greenwich, took a good house and became known there
as a gentleman of independent means. Greenwich was
next the scene of his innumerable burglaries. Night after
night the houses of the leading residents were broken into,
quantities of plate, jewellery, and furniture were carried
off. Peace was furnishing, in fact, and when he went on to
Peckham, to a still larger house, it was beautifully mounted.
In the drawing-room was a fine suite of walnut wood, worth
fifty or sixty guineas; there were mirrors on the walls, a
Turkey carpet on the floor, at one end a bijou piano, and near
it an inlaid Spanish guitar, which was afterwards known
to be the property of a lady of title. Peace was fond of
music, and when the time came to overhaul his ill-gotten
possessions, quite a fine collection of Cremona fiddles was
found, the proceeds of various burglaries. The plunder
he obtained was indeed immense ; this house at Peckham
was crammed full of stolen goods, and when space was
wanting, he took other houses, which he put in charge of
some respectable servant or matron, and filled with valu-
ables. These lady assistants he employed to dispose of his
stolen property, by sending them round to the pawnshops,
at points remote from the scene of the burglary.
It was not until he had been tried and sentenced to
penal servitude for life for the murderous assault on the
policeman at Blackheath that the truth came out about
the Dyson murder.
Sufficient evidence was soon obtained to warrant his trial
on the capital charge, and he was removed from Pentonville
ot appear at the Leeds assizes. It was during this removal
under escort that he made his historical and phenomenal
leap through the window of a railway carriage, while the train
was traveUing at express speed.
This desperate and really hopeless venture showed the
daring, reckless character of the man. It failed, as all such
foolhardy enterprises must fail, and he was picked up very
near where he had fallen, a place called Shire Oaks, very
much smashed and battered, and with a broken leg. He
gave no reason for his attempted escape, but it was believed
322 WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
that he knew the game was up, that the net was closing
around him, and that he must inevitably be convicted and
hanged. Some six or eight weeks elapsed before he was
sufficiently recovered from his injuries to be arraigned.
Then it was, and afterwards, that I obtained some account
of his extraordinary and long-successful criminal career. I
had many opportunities of talking with him, and learning
his methods. He was a criminal genius in his way. He
struck out so many original lines of action, and his combina-
tions, both before and after the deed, were cleverly designed
and astutely carried through.
Then he was an artist in the way of disguising himself,
and he was a very different personage in every locaHty he
favoured. At Peckham, it will be remembered, he was a
one-armed man ; he had " faked up " his left hand, and
always carried an old-fashioned hook instead.
It was at this period, while residing at Peckham, of
which parish he was a churchwarden, much respected and
esteemed, that the following incident occurred, which he
quoted to me once in proof of his own line of argument.
We had been discussing questions of general morality
and conduct, more especially the advantages of veracity.
He maintained the opposite. "What is the good of telling
the truth ? " he asked. " No one believes you when
you do."
"Now listen to this. When I was Mr. Johnson, of
Peckham, I went into the chemist's one morning, smoking
an excellent cigar.
"The chemist observed, 'That is very good tobacco,
Mr. Johnson. Where do you get your cigars ? '
" ' Steal them,' I replied, perfectly frankly and truth-
fully. It was the absolute fact. I had stolen those cigars.
But my friend the chemist thought it an excellent joke.
He roared with laughter, and, of course, did not believe
me in the least.
" ' I wish you'd steal me a few of the same kind,' he
said, and I very generously promised to do so.
" Some weeks afterwards I came across a very fine lot of
PEACE A8 A MORALIST. 323
Havanas in a house I visited rather late at night, and I
secured them. The chemist got a box of them.
" ' There, Mr. So-and-so," I said, ' I have stolen you these.
I hope you will like them.' Again he laughed loudly, and he
no more beUeved me than before. Still I had only told him
what was perfectly true."
In the long period that had elapsed before his trial his
beard had been allowed to grow, and it was a snow-white
appendage that gave him a very venerable appearance. He
wagged this great beard gravely as he harangued his relatives
and friends, who came and visited him constantly, showing
much respectful and pitying affection. Possibly he was
thought to be rich, and have large hoards put by, the secret
of which would be divulged to his heirs.
They listened attentively to his counsels and admonitions ;
for he was fond of preaching to them, and pointed his lessons
by his own dreadful example. He was good enough to remind
me also of the reprisals that inevitably overtake the evil-
doer, and he warned me to be careful of my ways. I am
happy to think that this excellent advice has not been lost
on me.
But the old Adam was still strong in him. So seared was
his conscience, so garbled the sense of right and wrong in this
convicted murderer, that within a few hours of his death he
tried to make a barter of an act of justice he was bound
by every consideration to carry out. He had hinted of
another crime of which he alone was guilty, but for which
another innocent man was suffering penal servitude, and
he had expressed some intention of confessing. But there
had been some httle difficulty with the magistrates as to
his visits from his friends; Peace loudly declared that if
he was not granted what he asked he would say nothing
at all.
In other words, as I told him, when pretending to make
his peace, and preparing to go out of the world in a proper
frame of mind, he was willing to make a small question of
prison discipline come between him and a sacred duty.
Fortunately for Habron, the convict in question, then serving
324 WHOLESALE HOMICIDES.
in the Portland quarries, Charles Peace thought better of
it, withdrew his pretensions, and took upon himself his
own crime.
To the last Peace exhibited half-hypocritical, half-defiant
demeanour, and it is very doubtful whether he died really
penitent. The story goes that there was a grim jest upon his
hps just before he suffered. He is said to have complained to
Marwood, just as he was turned off, that the halter was too
tight, and that it hurt him ; but I cannot vouch for the
accuracy of this.
OEIMES OF THE HIGHWAY.
CHAPTER XIV.
HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL COACH ROBBERS.
Causes of Highway Crime — Insecurity of the English Roads in the Seventeenth
Century — Earliest Recorded Highway Robbery near York — Highwaymen
of the Commonwealth — " Captains " Hind and Stafford — " Mulled Sack " —
Nevison, or " Swift Nick " (and not Turpin) rides from London to York
in the day — Claude Duval — Dick Turpin— John Rann — William Page —
William Parsons — James Maclean — Galloping Dick — Mail Coach Rob-
beries : Bristol Mail, Leeds Mail, Hertford Mail, Glasgow Coach.
CRIMES of the highway have been ever prevalent in un-
settled times when the organised protection of the law
was absent or insufficient. The insecurity of the road continues
to this day in new countries without police or where recent
turmoil has upset the community and withdrawn the proper
safeguards. The traveller has in consequence been exposed to
many dangers from brigands and banditti in unsettled lands ;
the lonely resident of outlying stations has been at the mercy
of the daring robber ; pirates and buccaneers have infested the
wilderness of the sea and laid their embargo on all defenceless
shipping. Whenever the old conditions reappear there is a
recrudescence of these crimes. The gentleman highwayman
of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was the proto-
type of the " road agent '' who stUl at times " holds up " the
passengers of a modem railway train. None of his villainous
exploits outdid the ravages of the Australian bushrangers.
The isolation of the railway carriage has developed an entirely
new form of railway crime, and we shall see in the many
326 SIGEWAYMEN AND MAIL COAGH BOBBERS.
railway murders how the new iacilities of rapid transit are
saddled with pecuhar dangers of their own. There are stiU
pirates in the far-off Chinese seas, wreckers on lonely shores ;
ships' companies mutiny still and murder their officers, seize
ships and cargoes, as recklessly as any who sailed under the
Black Flag; an old crime, that of feloniously casting away
vessels with intent to defraud shipowners and underwriters,
has been practised till quite a late day.
I propose first to deal with the highwaymen of old, taking
some of the more prominent cases in times when these
desperadoes were a terror to all wayfarers. AU through the
seventeenth century there was little or no security for the
traveller. In this country none of the great roads were safe ;
all were infested with banditti. The mails, high officials,
foreigners of distinction, noblemen, merchants, private
persons, aU were constantly stopped upon the highway.
The diaries of the period contain such entries as these : —
" His Majesty's mails from Holland robbed near Ilford, in
Essex, and £5,000 taken, belonging to some Jews in London."
" The Worcester waggon, wherein was £4,000 of the King's
money, was set upon and robbed at Gerard's Cross, near
Uxbridge, by sixteen highwaymea The convoy, being near
their inn, went on ahead, thinking all secure, and leaving
only two persons on foot to guard it, who, having laid their
blunderbusses in the waggon, were on a sudden surprised by
the sixteen highwaymen, who took away £2,500, and left the
rest for want of convenience to carry it." Two French officers
(on their way to the coast) were robbed by nine highwaymen
of one hundred and ten guineas, and bidden to go home to
their own country. Another batch of French officers was
similarly dealt with on the Portsmouth road. Fifteen butchers
going to market were robbed by highwaymen, who carried
them over a hedge and made them drink King James's health.
The Portsmouth mail was robbed, but only of private letters ;
and the same men robbed a captain going to Portsmouth
with £5,000 to pay his regiment with. Three highwaymen
robbed the receiver-general of Bucks of a thousand guineas,
which he was sending up by the carrier in a pack; the
HiaaWAYMEN OF OLD. 327
thieves acted on excellent information, for although there
were seventeen horses, they went directly to that which was
laden with the gold. Seven on the St. Albans road, near
Pinner, robbed the Manchester carrier of £15,000 king's
money, and killed and wounded eighteen horses to prevent
pursuit. The purser of a ship landed at Plymouth and rode
to London on horseback, with £6,000 worth of rough diamonds
belonging to some London merchants which had been saved
out of a shipwreck. Crossing Hounslow Heath, the purser
was robbed by highwaymen. "Oath was thereupon made
before a justice of the peace," says Luttrell, " in order to sue
the Hundred for the same." The Bath coach was stopped in
the Maidenhead thicket, and a footman, who had fired at
them, w£is shot through the head. The Dover stage coach,
with foreign passengers, was robbed near Shooter's Hill, but
making resistance, one was killed. The Western mail was
robbed by the two Arthurs, who were captured and com-
mitted to Newgate. They soon escaped therefrom, but were
again arrested at a tavern by Doctors' Commons, being be-
trayed by a companion. They confessed that they had gone
publicly about the streets disguised in " Grecian habits," and
that one Ellis, a tobacconist, assisted them in their escape, for
which he was himself committed to Newgate. John Arthur
was soon afterwards condemned and executed. Henry Arthur
was acquitted, but soon after quarrelling about a tavern bill
in Covent Garden, he was killed in the inelie.
One of the earliest recorded cases of highway robbery was
that of Henry William Genyembre, who was executed at York,
Castle in 1585 for robbery on the Queen's highway. He was
a man advanced in years and he had long done business in
horse-stealing. Five years later two others suffered for the
same offence, highway robbery on the road between York and
Hull. About this date the Earl of Dumfries was stopped on
the great north road between Lincoln and Bawtrey; he
deposed that he was " sett upon by Nicholas Spavild and
Richard Drew who took from him one bay mare and a black
nagg with a great lether mail full of goods. Thereupon hee
was forced to go to Bawtrey on foot and there raysed the hue
328 EIGHWATMEN AND MAIL COACH ROBBERS.
and cry after them." When captured and tried their defence
was that the gentleman was riding off the road and over the
corn ; that when they complained he dismounted and taking
his servant with him left his horses, which the prisoners
carried to the pinfold or pound. Highway robbery was much
practised in Yorkshire and the north at that time, when Amos
Lawson and Ebenezer Moor were noted gentlemen of the
road.
Many notorious road robbers flourished in the time
of the Commonwealth. Captain Hind (highwaymen were
always dubbed '■ captain ") did not take entirely to the
road until after the execution of Charles I., and according
to his own showing he was driven to it chiefly by horror of
that crime, having been ever a staunch royalist. So his
victims, for choice, were sought among the regicides and
Cromwell's supporters. With one comrade he attacked the
Protector himself, but Oliver had seven men in his train, and
Hind escaped with difficulty while his companion was cap-
tured. With Hugh Peters he had more luck, and emptied his
pocket of thirty broad pieces after chopping texts with the old
preacher for more than an hour. Hind also stopped Brad-
shaw between Sherburn and Shaftesbury, but only got some
silver out of him until he swore to take his Ufe, when
Bradshaw produced "a purseful of Jacobuses." Colonel
Hamson was another of his victims, whom he robbed of
£70 on Maidenhead thicket when crossing it in a coach-
and-six.
Hind, like many of his fellows, was generous and kind to
the poor and distressed. Once when the luck was against
him he met an old man on his way to buy a cow with forty
shillings it had taken him two years to save. Hind was loth
to rob him, but he was in sore straits at the moment, so he
merely borrowed it, promising to restore double the amount
on a certain date. This he punctually performed, and the man
was thus enabled to buy two cows instead oi one. On another
occasion he met between Petersfield and Portsmouth a coach
full of ladies and ascertained that one of them carried £3,000
with her, her dowry, as she was on the point of marriage.
CAPTAIN HIND. 329
Hind pretended that he was travelling the country like Don
Quixote in order to win the favour of a hard-hearted mistress,
and said he required assistance to pursue his adventures.
" My name is Captain Hind, and I must make bold to borrow
one out of the three thousand pounds." The ladies, now
greatly terrified, thankfully gave up the portion demanded
and went on without further hindrance from the gallant
highwayman. Hind took service with Charles II. and joined
his army in the west, with which he was engaged at the
battle of Worcester. After the defeat he escaped from the
field and came to London, where he lay concealed at a
barber's in Fleet Street, opposite St. Dunstan's church. But
a friend informed against him and he was taken, first before
the Speaker of the House of Commons and then to Newgate.
There being nothing against him in London that could touch
his life, he was removed to Reading and arraigned there for a
murder committed in Berkshire. Again he was like to escape,
for an act of amnesty was published for all offences but those
against the State ; but Hind was now sent to Worcester, where
he was "wanted" badly, and here he was convicted and
sentenced to be hanged, drawn, and quartered as a traitor to
the Commonwealth.
Another outlaw of the same class and nearly the same
date was Captain Philip Stafford, who had served for some
time in the royalist ranks, and having had his small estate
sequestrated, took to the road. Stafford's early adventures
were in jewel robberies and swindling devices, by which he
extorted blackmail from women. When at length he turned
highwayman he soon secured several rich prizes by luck and
boldness, and having amassed a considerable sum he with-
drew to a little village in the far north. His way of life was
was now so simple and edifying that he was chosen by the
simple villagers to fill the place of minister of their congre-
gation and, he became a noted preacher, highly esteemed,
until he bolted with the church plate. After this Stafford
affair he travelled south and set up at his old business on the
Reading road. But in his very first adventure he was over-
taken, after robbing a wealthy farmer of the price of his
330 n:iGEWATME]Sr AND MAIL GOAOH BOBBERS.
wheat, captured, and lodged in gaol. He was quickly tried
and condemned.
Jack Cottington, alias " Mulled Sack," was another high-
wayman of widespread notoriety in the days of the Common-
wealth who long terrorised the country. His robberies were
very varied in character. He began as a pickpocket, being
given to frequenting the churches and meeting-houses of
London dressed in black and with demure, devout demeanour.
He purloined a good watch, set with diamonds, and a gold
chain from Lady Fairfax during prayers, and carried out other
robberies of the same kind. Another hunting-ground was
Westminster, and he was caught in the act of picking the
pocket of Oliver Cromwell himself as he came out of the
Parliament House, but could not be proceeded against for want
of legal proof. After this he took to the road. One of his
first exploits, disguised as a Cavalier in rich apparel, was to
stop the carriage of the same Lady Fairfax on Ludgate
Hill. He accomplished this by a trick. Having first removed
the linchpin, the coach came down, when he offered his
services to my lady and then robbed her. Hounslow Heath
was his favourite scene of action, and here, alone or ia com-
pany, he took many purses. With one Home, who had been a
captain in Downe's regiment, he stopped Oliver Cromwell, but
was beaten off. Home was taken out of hand, Cottington
escaped and his next feat was to rob a Government waggon
carrying money to the army. At the head of half a dozen
desperadoes he attacked and dispersed the escort of twenty
troopers about dusk when they were dismounted and watering
their horses. The plunder thus obtained was very great, but
it was soon dissipated in riotous living.
His operations were conducted on a very wide scale.
He was served by a legion of spies who kept him supplied
with the best information, especially where rich booty
was to be secured. On one occasion he secured the whole
of a jeweller's stock as it was being transferred from Read-
ing to London, and afterwards appeared publicly wearing
some of the most valuable gems. Again, at Reading, he
robbed the receiver's office of £6,000 in hard cash, which
"SWIFT NIGK." 331
he carried off on horseback. The magnitude of this
robbery and his now notorious character, led to his arrest
on suspicion, and he was brought to trial at Abingdon
assizes, but was acquitted, it was said, through bribery.
After this he left England, but continued his depredations
on the continent. One of his greatest exploits was at
Cologne, where he robbed Charles II., then in exile, of a
quantity of silver plate, valued at about £1,500. He now
returned to England, and sought to make his peace with
Cromwell by offering to hand over a mass of secret corre-
spondence which he had got from Charles II., but he failed
in his promises, and having been recognised as the author
of many robberies, he was sent to Newgate, where he
suffered the extreme penalty of the law in 1659.
Cottington's mantle fell upon Nevison, commonly called
" Swift Nick " a famous highwayman in the time of Charles II.
Nevison actually performed the great feat in horsemanship
with which the notorious Dick Turpin was afterwards credited.
Tradition has preserved Nevison as rather an interesting
tigure ; a man of pleasing address, gentlemanly demeanour,
of large stature, and unparalleled courage. He was never
charged with murder, and only once took life in resisting
capture by a butcher with half a dozen others, when he
killed the butcher in self-defence. According to Dr. Eaine,
of the Surtees Society, a great Yorkshire antiquary, he
might have been called the Claude Duval of the North.
Contemporary chronicles are full of stories of his daring
and of his charity. Much of what he levied from the rich
he gave to the poor. The story goes that once at a village
alehouse he heard that a poor farmer had been sold out
by the bailiffs. That same night he lay in wait for the
bailiffs on the high road as they were going home with
the proceeds of the sale, eased them of the money, and
restored it to the farmer. Nevison was an especial terror
to the carriers and cattle drovers of the north, who regu-
larly paid him blackmail, a certain sum quarterly, for
which he contracted to keep them from the attacks of
other highwaymen.
332 HIOSWAYMEN AND MAIL GOAOH ROBBERS.
Nevison was arrested on suspicion in 1674, and although
the evidence was incomplete, condemned to death, but
subsequently reprieved, when he was drafted into Kirk's
Lambs and served for a time at Tangier. From this he
soon deserted to resume his old calling in England. Again
he came within the grip of the law for robberies near
Wakefield, and was again cast for death. This time he
escaped prison just before execution, but was once more
and finally captured in the town of Milford for a trifling
robbery at a pubHc-house. He was hanged on the gallows
at Knavesmire, just outside York.
Nevison, whose real name was Brace or Bracy, was a native
of Burton Agnes, in the East Riding, and belonged to a
gang variously stated at from six to twenty in number. The
" Bloody News from York," is a quarto pamphlet, published
in London, 1764, concerning twenty highwaymen who set upon
fifteen butchers coming from Northallerton fair. The robbers
had no fixed abode, but made their headquarters often at
the Talbot inn at Newark, where they kept ten rooms by
the year, and divided the spoil. Mary Burton, their house-
keeper, deposed that she knew of ten robberies by which
they had realised some £1,500. " She thinks the master
of the Talbott is privy to their carriages, for that she hath
often seen them whisper together, as also one William
Anwood, the ostler there, she having oiten seen the said
parties give him good sums of money, and order him to
keep their horses close, and never to water them but in
the night time." These thieves were in the habit of fre-
quenting fairs and markets and race meetings all over the
country, and they had many spies as well as receivers
everywhere.
Brace, Bracy, or Nevison " worked " mostly in Yorkshire,
and often single-handed, for the gang was only summoned
to execute some great coup. Nevison was the leader and
the most famous, being celebrated in ballads and doggerel
stiU extant, as a " bold hero " who maintained himself " like
a gentleman," and besides was good to the poor. The date
of his ride from London to York cannot be fixed exactly.
THE RIDE FROM LONDON TO YORK. 333
It must have been in summer when the daylight hours
were long, and it was probably just previous to his last
arrest and trial in 1674. According to the best accounts he
committed a robbery in London about dawn, and being
recognised, jumped on his horse and started for the north.
Another account says that the robbery was committed at
Gadshill, that he rode thence to Gravesend, crossed the
Thames, reached Chelmsford, and baiting there rode on
through Cambridge and Godmanchester to Huntingdon,
where he again baited and rested an hour, then remount-
ing, rode on at even pace until sunset, when he entered
York, having ridden the distance, two hundred miles, in
fifteen hours. When he was captured in York a few days
later, he set up an alibi which was unanswerable. People had
actually seen him between seven and eight p.m. on the bowl-
ing-green at York the very evening of the day the robbery
was committed in London. This satisfied the jury, and
Nevison was acquitted. He got his sobriquet of " Swift
Nick " from Charles II.
CLAUDE DUVAL.
To this period belongs the celebrated Claude Duval,
a highwayman of French extraction, who was bom at
Domfront, in Normandy, of humble parents, and brought
up with the idea of entering service. When about thirteen
he was turned adrift in the world, and started for Paris to
seek his fortune. On his way he fell in with a number of
post horses at Kouen, and was allowed to ride one of them
to Paris. Some English gentlemen, exiled royalists, took a
fancy to him, and, at the Restoration, he crossed to England
as a footman to one of them, a gentleman of quahty. Young
Duval soon fell into dissolute ways ; the times were vicious,
the national rejoicings at Charles's return had degenerated
into the worst extravagance, and drunkenness and de-
bauchery prevailed on every side. Duval had no money
but what he could earn, and it was easier to fill his
pockets on the highway than with his wages as a foot-
man. He must have been expressly adapted to the
334 HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL COACH ROBBERS.
business, for he soon made himself an extraordinary repu-
tation. So much so that within a very short time his
name became notorious and stood first in a proclamation
issued for the arrest of certain dangerous highwaymen.
Many of the stories told of him are probably apocryphal,
but a few may be mentioned to show the sort of man he was.
There is the somewhat threadbare legend of the dance
upon Hampstead Heath, when he stopped a coach carrying
an aged knight and his young wife, as well as a considerable
sum in gold. As the highwayman approached, the lady
pulled out a flageolet and played a tune upon it charm-
ingly. Duval rode up to the carriage door, and, suggesting
that she probably danced as well as she played, invited her
to tread a " corranto " with him on the heath. The
knight consented, the lady stepped out, and it is recorded
that no London dancing-master could have done better
than Duval although he was weighted with a pair of heavy
French riding boots. When the knight would have ridden
away, Duval, protested that he had forgotten to pay for
the music, whereupon the victim produced £100 from
under the seat of his coach. Duval accepted this sum,
declaring that a generous gift was worth ten times the
amount taken by force, adding that the knight's noble
behaviour had saved him the other three hundred pounds
that the highwayman knew were in the carriage.
There are other stories of the same kind, all illustrating
Duval's courtesy, especially to ladies. Whenever he was on
the road and came across any country festivities, he joined
gladly in the dance and song, using his vigilance, notwith-
standing, in observing any among the company whom he
could afterwards stop on the road. On one occasion he met
Roper, the master of the king's buckhounds, in Windsor
Forest; it was a lonely spot, and the highwayman ordered
the huntsman to stand and deliver, then bound him neck
and heels, and, leaving the horse by his side, rode out of
the forest. His depredations were not Hmited to England,
and when his life was proclaimed he crossed to France,
and pursued his trade in and about Paris. One exploit is
TUB REAL BIGK TUBPIN. 335
remembered to his credit : that of his robbing a learned Jesuit,
who was a notable miser, and whom Duval swindled under pre-
tence of imparting the secret of the philosopher's stone. Both
in Paris and in England, Duval was no less famous for his
successes at the gaming-table than on the road. He seemed
to play fair, but he was one of the most skilfal cheats and
manipulators of cards in that time ; he was fond of laying
bets, having astutely prepared to win them by studying all
the facts and intricacies of the case on which he betted. He
had gained a considerable smattering of learning, was an
adept in mathematical quibbles and scientific tricks, and often
put forward a seeming paradox which won him substantial
wagers.
Fate seems to have overtaken him soon after his return
from France. How long he went scot free is not recorded,
but he was carried in Chandos Street, at the " Hole in the
Wall," comniitted to Newgate, condemned, and executed on
the 21st January, 1670. A great concourse witnessed the
ceremony, and after his execution he lay in state at the
Tangier Tavern, St. Giles's, where numbers of outwardly
respectable people came to pay their last respect ; and
among them were many ladies of quality, masked.
DICK TURPIN.
A certain halo of romance has been cast around the name
of Dick Turpin, whom the novehst has portrayed as a man of
chivalrous courage and of many remarkable adventures. As
a matter of fact, he was a very low-class robber and pilferer.
By trade a butcher, he simplified his business transactions by
stealing his neighbours' cattle instead of buying carcases of
his own. He was caught at this, and fled into Essex marshes
(Turpin was an Essex man), where he joined a gang of
smugglers, and did well for a time. Checked by the activity
of the Custom-house ofi&cers, he took next to stealing deer
ia Epping Forest and the neighbouring parks. Finding this
unprofitable, he adopted housebreaking, with several con-
federates. The story appears to be authentic of his having
seated an old woman on the fire until she confessed where
336 EIQEWAYMEN AND MAIL GOAGH BOBBERS.
she concealed her treasure. This was at Loughton, in Essex>
where the poor old creature had the imprudence to keep a
store of some seven or eight hundred pounds, the whole of
which the robbers secured. Turpin was thus the forerunner
of the famous band of chauffeurs who terrorised provincial
France during the revolutionary epoch.
The depredations of Turpin and his gang were numerous
and extensive. They robbed right and left, attacking for
choice lonely farmhouses or detached country residences,
where they secured cash, plate, and other valuables. Presently
the hue and cry was raised for their apprehension, and the
gang broke up. Turpin determined now to work alone, and,
riding down into Cambridgeshire, turned highwayman. Near
Cambridge he fell in with a young gentleman, well dressed
and well mounted, whom he stopped, demanding his
money or his life. The would-be victim laughed in his face,
and cried, " What ! dog eat dog ? Come, brother Turpin, I
know you if you do not know me." It was Tom King, the
famous gentleman highwayman, and the pair went into
partnership on the spot. They resolved to seek out some
quiet retreat as a base of operations, and a refuge when
danger threatened. Somewhere between the King's Oak and
the Loughton Road, in Epping Forest, they found a sort of
cave, large enough to receive them and their horses. The
place was close set with bushes and brambles, which effectually
concealed its occupants from passers-by, although they could
see out. Here they lurked in wait, and regularly issued forth
to rob and plunder all who seemed worth it. They went far
afield, too, and rode into Suffolk in search of plunder, return-
ing always to their forest hiding-place. But even this became
too hot for them, and they agreed to separate. King rode
away, but Turpin still used the retreat from time to time.
He was nearly captured once by a gentleman's servant, who
had come out to capture him, tempted by the great reward
offered. Turpin saw him approaching, and shouted out,
warning him that he would find no hares in the forest. " No,
but I have found a Turpin," replied the man, presenting his
gun. Whereupon Turpin promptly shot him dead. This
TURPIN AND TOM KING. 337
murder raised the country against him, and Turpin was
forced to seek another place of concealment. He retired into
Hertfordshire, where King rejoined him, and they resumed
their highway robberies. Riding together towards London,
they overtook a Mr. Major, near the " Green Man," Epping,
who was mounted on a fine horse, which Turpin coveted, and
forced him to exchange. After the robbery, handbills were
issued advertising for the lost horse, and it was found at
The Red Lion, Whitechapel. A person came to claim it,
who proved to be King's brother, and who was seen to be
carryiag a whip with Major's name on the handle. His story
was that he had been sent to fetch the horse by a man who
was waiting hard by, and a posse of people started forthwith
to seize him. It was King, who resisted capture for some
time, but finding the fight going against him, he called out to
Turpin, who hovered near, "Shoot, Dick, shoot, or we are
done." Turpin fired his pistol, but to his dismay he mortally
wounded King.
Turpin was driven now to wander from place to place
seeking concealment. He resolved at last to go down into
Yorkshire, where, being unknown, he hoped to evade the
officers of justice. His last danger had been close, for he had
been hunted by Mr. Ives, the king's huntsman, who took out
two hounds to track him, and Turpin only escaped by cHmb-
ing into an oak tree, when the hounds ran past their quarry.
On his way northward he paused at Long Sutton, in Lincoln-
shire, where he stole several horses ; and, finding that
business safe and profitable, he adopted it on reaching
Yorkshire. Taking the name of John Palmer, he became
ostensibly a dealer in horses, which he bought and sold at
various fairs. He became well known in these parts, and
popular, joining with the gentry and farmers in the pursuit of
sport. One day he had words with a neighbour about the
shooting of a cock in the farmyard. Turpin, forgetting him-
self, angrily answered, ''Wait till I can reload, and I will
shoot you too." Some inquiry followed into Turpin's real
character and way of life. It was rumoured that instead of
buying horses he stole them; and about this time, some
w
338 HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL GOACH BOBBERS.
people coming from Lincolnshire claimed a mare and foal in
his possession as their property. Turpin was unable to rebut
this charge, nor could he give any satisfactory account of
himself, so he was committed to York Castle on suspicion.
Possibly Turpin would never have been identified but for
his own imprudence, and the strange action of chance. He
wrote a letter to a brother in Essex, telling him he was laid
by the heels on a charge of horse-stealing, and imploring him
to come down to York and give him a character. As the
postage had not been prepaid this letter was returned un-
opened to the local post-office. Here the schoolmaster who
had taught Turpin to write saw it by mere chance, and,
marvellous to relate, recognised the hand. It may be re-
marked parenthetically that Turpin's brother should have
known the writing ; still, the letter may have been returned
without his having seen it. In any case, the schoolmaster
carried the letter to a magistrate, who broke it open, and
guessing what had happened, sent the schoolmaster down to
York. There was no hope for Turpin after this. He was
ftiUy committed for trial, and eventually executed. His
detection in York caused considerable sensation at the time,
for his evil character was now very generally known. Refer-
ence has been already made* to his apocryphal ride to York,
an exploit belonging rightly to Nevison.
JOHN EANN.
" Sixteen-string Jack " was the sobriquet of a famous
highwayman, named John Rann, who flourished in the latter
end of last century. He had begun life in a stable, was then
advanced to post-boy, and became in due course a gentleman's
coachman. This training gave him a sound knowledge of
horseflesh, and greatly helped him when he took to the
highway. Having lost his place he was driven to thieving,
and from picking pockets rose to be a highwayman. One of
his first exploits was to rob a traveller near the nine-mile
stone on the Hounslow road, from whom he took money
and a watch. The latter was soon afterwards seen in the
* Seepage 332.
" SIXTEEN-STBING JACK." 339
possession of a woman, who said she had got it from Eann.
His arrest followed, and he was sent for trial at the Old Bailey.
Here he first appeared in the brave apparel he afterwards
affected : he appeared with an enormous bouquet in the breast
of his coat, his irons were tied up with blue ribbons, and he
had eight strings at each knee of his breeches, and thus
gained his appellation of " Sixteen-string Jack."
The first trial ended in acquittal, but not many weeks
afterwards he was again arraigned for burglary, and again
acquitted. His career was brief, however, and he would
hardly be remembered but for his bravado in showing him-
self in his peculiar attire at many public places, attracting
much attention, and openly proclaiming himself "Sixteen-
string Jack." His last affair was in this same year, 1774,
when he " worked " the Uxbridge road in association with one
William Collier. In company they robbed Dr. William Bell,
chaplain to the Princess Amelia. As the reverend doctor was
riding near Ealing he was overtaken by two men of suspicious
appearance, one of whom suddenly rode across his front and
demanded his money with the usual threats. Dr. Bell gave
all he had : Is. 6d. and a common watch in a tortoiseshell
case. Watches were fatal to Rann, and this second time-
keeper led to Rann's arrest. It was offered the same evening
for sale at a pawnbroker's in the Oxford road, who impounded
it, and finding the maker's name traced it to Dr. Bell. It was
proved that Rann had been seen at Acton within twenty
minutes of the time of the robbery. This evidence sufficed
to hang him. He showed the utmost unconcern during his
trial, and appeared at the bar dressed out, as usual, in an
extravagant manner. He wore a brand-new suit of pea-green
cloth, a ruffled shirt, and a hat bound round with silver strings.
He appears to have counted a little too confidently upon
acquittal, for he had actually ordered supper for a large party
to celebrate his release.
WILLIAM PAGE.
This notorious highwayman was the son of a farmer in
Hampton, who sent him to London to complete his education
340 lilOHWAYMEN AND MAIL GOAGS BOBBERS.
with a cousin, a haberdasher, who soon grew sick of him.
Vanity was Page's consuming passion; he was a coxcomb,
inordinately fond of fine clothes. When his cousin stopped
his credit with the tailors. Page sat up at nights with a
dark lantern, continuing to alter his garments into the
prevailing fashion. To provide himself with funds he pro-
ceeded to rob the till in the shop, thus securing £15, for
which the servants were blamed. The haberdasher, anxious
to bring home the theft, put a number of marked guineas in
the till, and when it was again robbed he insisted on searching
every pocket in the house. The marked money or part of it
was found with William Page, whereupon he was turned out
of doors, and could never obtain forgiveness.
Neither his kinsman nor his parents, to whom he applied,
would supply him with funds, and as he was sadty in want
he took service with a gentleman, whom he accompanied to
London by the road. They were stopped by a highwayman,
and it was now that Page first conceived the idea of adopting
this profitable profession. Yet he lived on with his master
for quite a year without taking to evil courses. It was not
till he was reduced again to destitution, after a long illness,
that he followed his bent towards highway robbery.
His first expedition was on the Kentish road. He stopped
the Canterbury coach at Shooter's Hill, and eased the
passengers of their watches and money to the value of forty
pounds. After that he rode through Kent reconnoitring the
roads and approaches to London, gaining knowledge that was
of much service to him. He followed up this first observation
by others more extensive, and gradually prepared a good map
for his private use of the roads twenty miles around London.
His operations were extensive, and he soon acquired con-
siderable sums. When thus in funds he took good lodgings
near Grosvenor Square, frequented the billiard and gaming
tables, and, being fortunate, added largely to his store, without
needing to go on the road. When the luck changed, he rode
towards Hampton Court, stopped a post chaise, and secured
watches, money, and a diamond ring. After this he grew
more and more bold, and had soon gathered up some
A "CSANOE ARTISTE." 341
£200. His ambition was still to cut a dash, and he now set
up as a law student in Lincoln's Inn, where he made many
genteel acquaintances, and became popular in society. He
learnt to dance, he sported the smartest apparel, he read the
fashionable novels of the day, and became a great ladies' man.
He paid devoted court to one in particular at Hampstead
whom he might have married; the wedding clothes had indeed
been bought, and the day fixed, when someone recognised
him as having been in service, and the match was broken off
abruptly.
Page after this disappointment became more systematic
and more daring in his robberies. His map gave him the
most intimate knowledge of the environs of London for
twenty miles around, with all the roads and byepaths and
places of resort, iie travelled always, at the outset, in a
phaeton and pair driven by a confederate, and in this respect-
able conveyance his real character was not suspected. He
used to dress in a lace or embroidered frock and wear his
hair tied behind. When he had been driven a distance
from London he would turn into some unfrequented place,
and having disguised himself in other clothes, with a grizzle
or black wig, he would saddle one of the carriage horses, and
riding to the main road, commit a robbery. This done, he
hastened back to the carriage, resumed his usual dress, and
drove back to London. He was frequently cautioned to be
on his guard against one particularly daring highwayman
(himselO who might meet and rob him. " No, no," Page
would reply, " he cannot do it a second time, unless he robs
me of my coat and shirt, for he has taken all my money
already."
He had once an escape of a very remarkable kind. Having
just robbed a gentleman near Putney, he was surprised by
certain persons, who pursued him so closely that he was
obliged to seek safety by crossing the Thames. In the
interim some haymakers crossing the field where Page had
left his carriage, found and carried ofi his gay apparel,
and the persons who had pursued him meetiag them, charged
them with being accomplices in the robbery. A report of
342 HIQHWAYMEN AND MAIL COAGH BOBBERS.
this affair being soon spread, Page heard of it, and throwing
his clothes into a well, he went back almost naked, claimed
the carriage as his own, declaring that the men had stripped
him and thrown him into a ditch. All the parties now went
before a justice of the peace ; and the maker of the carriage
having been called testified that it was the property of Mr.
Page. The poor haymakers were committed for trial, but
obtained their libertj' after the next assizes, as Page did not
appear to prosecute.
These cases sufficiently show the ingenuity and daring
with which Page carried out his depredations. All, however,
that he made by pillage he lost at play. He frequented the
gaming-tables of all the fashionable provincial resorts — Bath,
Tunbridge, Scarborough, and Newmarket — where he was
thought to be a man of fortune addicted to heavy gambling.
At length he joined forces with an old schoolfellow, Darwell;
and these two within three years committed over three
hundred robberies. About this time Page heard of the
serious illness of a relative who had promised to make him
his heir. Taking passage by boat to Scotland so as to be near
him on his deathbed, Page was shipwrecked and landed in a
destitute condition only to find that his relative had already
died without making any provision for him. Foiled thus of
his hopes of a settled income, he and Darwell recommenced
operations, and in the course or six weeks committed between
twenty and thirty new robberies on the high roads round and
about London. At length information was given that Darwell
might be met with on the Tunbridge road, and he was even-
tually apprehended near Sevenoaks. Brought before the
magistrate he begged to be admitted as evidence for the
Crown, and his request being granted he made a full con-
fession of all the outrages perpetrated by him and Page,
particularly mentioning the chief houses of entertainment
used by the latter on the road. The officers, acting on the
information, soon apprehended Page with all his arms and
paraphernalia upon him. He was remanded to Newgate and
remained there for some months. He was acquitted on the
first indictment for want of evidence ; but being tried again
WILLIAM PARSONS. 343
at Rochester for a second robbery he was convicted, received
sentence of death, and was executed at Maidstone on the 6th
AprU, 1758.
WILLIAM PAKSONS.
The " road " was a favourite resource for impecunious
gentlemen willing to hazard their necks for a little ready cash
and a generally short-lived, rollicking career. The criminal
records of the latter end of last century contain many in-
stances of this : of youths of good birth, with reputable con-
nections, who became highwaymen, and died in most cases
upon the gallows.
Prominent among these is that youngest son of a Not-
tinghamshire baronet, who is honoured in all contemporary
accounts with the title of William Parsons, Esquire. He was
sent to Eton at fourteen, where he was soon noted for his
petty thefts from his schoolfellows, and especially for a trick
he played on his own brother. Their aunt, the Duchess of
Northumberland, had given them each a five-guinea piece
which they were to show her when she met them. William
Parsons soon changed his and then stole his brother's. The
poor victim (who afterwards became a clergyman) was greatly
distressed when he next faced his aimt, not haviag the coin,
while WilUam triumphed over him. The Duchess was in-
clined to beheve the elder brother's story to the effect that
he had the coin in his pocket on going to bed, but that in the
morning it was gone, and she begged Mr. Bland, the head
master of Eton, to make diligent inquiry into the case. Not
many five-guinea pieces were in circulation in the smaU town
of Eton, and the shop at which WiUiam Parsons had changed
his was soon found. For this disgraceful offence he was
" whipped," says the chronicle, " tUl the skin was flea'd off
his back and afterwards rubbed with pickle ; yet not all the
punishments he suffered, tho' ever so severe, could ever
reclaim this unhappy man or eradicate that natural pro-
pensity for wickedness."
Parsons was soon afterwards removed from Eton and sent
to live with an uncle. Captain Dutton, at Epsom, from whom
344 HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL COACH ROBBERS.
he had fine expectations, but his profligacy ruined his chances,
and he was soon expelled Irom his uncle's house. Another
relative took him in, but " here playing several sUppery tricks,
his friends were at last determined to send him to sea, the
general resource for such sort of sparks." He sailed on board
H.M.S. Brake to the West Indies, where he was out of mis-
chief for a time, but returning to England was cleaned out at
the gambling-tables ; he levied contributions on his aunt, the
Duchess of Northumberland, from whose dressing-room he
stole a miniature set in gold that hung to her watch chain.
The Duchess offered a large reward for its recovery and Parsons
would gladly have given it up, but could find no means of
restoring it without drawing down suspicion, and he soon
sold it for a quarter of the sum advertised as a reward.
Another theft that might have landed him in gaol was
that of a pair of gold shoe-buckles which he secured in the
assembly rooms at Buxton — the property of a Mr. Graham.
Having appropriated them unperceived. Parsons broke them
up and sold them next day to a goldsmith in Nottingham.
Mr. Graham having advertised his loss, the goldsmith
reported that he had bought the pieces of a pair of buckles
from Parsons, and they were immediately identified. Had
not Sir William Parsons interposed and made up the
matter with Mr. Graham, rather than have his son publicly
disgraced, it would have gone hard with the thief
Once more, after certain gallant adventures in town, where
he shamelessly robbed a too confiding lady. Parsons went to
sea, now on board H.M.S. Romney, Captain Medley, RN.
During this cruise his habits did not improve ; he played
continually and with false dice or marked cards, and became
so discredited that none of his brother officers would keep
him company. He had an ingenious way, too, of misappro-
priating ladies' jewellery, snuff-boxes, rings, and so forth,
which he pretended to admire, and which " he had no sooner
in his hand than, with a genteel air, he put them in his
pocket, saying they were mighty pretty things, and he would
keep them for their sakes, and so laughing the ladies out of
them, he used afterwards to convert them into cash."
THE GENTLEMAN THIEF. 345
Parsons did not stay long in the navy, and on his discharge
resumed his dissolute, extravagant life in London, where he
played high, and losing much was put to many fraudulent
shifts to make up his income. Being overburdened with
debts and "pretty near exhausted as to cash," his friends
importuned him to go out as a writer in the African Company,
but not liking the climate he passed on to Jamaica, where he
stayed some time. Here he forged a letter purporting to be
from his aunt, in which the Duchess agreed to be answerable
for any sum he raised as far as £70. He got the whole amount
from a merchant, and returned to England very much about
the time that the draft arrived, when the Duchess repudiated
it, and declared she had never written any letter to Parsons.
This fraud so much incensed her that she disinherited him,
and left £25,000 she had meant for him to his sister. The
defrauded merchant would have arrested him, but he climbed
out upon the roof of a house, and so escaped.
The next move was a fortunate marriage with a young
lady who had £12,000. He married her in 1740, and re-
ceived £4,000, the balance, £8,000, being invested by his wife's
friends in " Exchequer tallies," or annuities. Now, too, he
joined the army, purchasing a commission in Cholmondeley's
regiment, and making "a very gay appearance." He lived
" in a genteel manner in Poland Street, but stUl following
the pernicious practice of gaming," he lost his £4,000, and
persuaded his wife to sell a part of her annuities. In effecting
this sale he took in a Jew broker, and disposed of a part of
the annuities twice over.
Within three years Parsons, now a Ueutenant, was ordered
to Flanders with his regiment, and found new openings for his
villainy. One was to contract for the whole of the soldiers'
clothing, and when he got it to abscond to England, where he
sold the lot. This finished his military career, for the Duke
of Cumberland dismissed him summarily, and applied the price
of his commission to the making good of his frauds. Now,
being separated from his wife, who had gone back to her friends,
he set up in Panton Square, having furnished the house
"genteely" from the best tradesmen, including goldsmiths.
346 HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL COACH BOBBERS.
who supplied a quantity of silver plate, but when they came
to be paid they found the place shut up as if uninhabited. Yet
Parsons was there, and remained in it the best part of a year,
entering and leaving the house by a private door through the
stable yard. The landlord broke in at last, and found the
house all but empty ; Parsons had sold ofi" everything.
He next devised " a big base design " of raising funds by
agreeing with one who had been a footman to run off with
his sister. She had £25,000 to her fortune, and the man
when he secured it was to pay Parsons a handsome com-
mission. Miss Parsons, who lodged in Spring Gardens, was to
be waylaid, seized and carried off by force; her maid having
been bought over to assist at the price of £500. The
future husband was, however, indiscreet ; he went to a
milliner's to bespeak some " fine Dresden ruffled shirts," and
openly announced his coming marriage with the wealthy
Miss Parsons, niece and heiress of the Duchess of North-
umberland. But a lady came in, and overhearing this, exposed
the trick, for the fellow had once been her footman. Miss
Parsons was warned to be on her guard, and she moved her
lodging, having learnt what was in the wind from her maid,
who confessed the whole affair.
It would be tedious to follow this unprincipled swindler
through all the nefarious schemes and devices he invented to
obtain money from the confiding — bills forged, goods fraudu-
lently obtained, innocent girls deceived with pretended mar-
riages ; when he was committed to Maidstone for passing a
spurious note he imposed upon a fellow prisoner, whom he
persuaded, after receiving a bribe, to dig for jewels in the
garden of an empty house in Chelsea, where, of course, nothing
was found. His last offence condemned Parsons to be sent
to the Plantations, and he was taken to Maryland with other
transports. On the voyage out he so ingratiated himself with
the captain as to be allowed to eat at his table, and Lord Fairfax,
the Governor, on his arrival, took him into his own house
and treated him like a son. This kindness he repaid by theft,
and having laid hands on £70, he stole off to England, landing at
Whitehaven, " at which place he again began his old pranks."
JAMES MAG LEAN. 347
None were suflBciently remunerative; his losses at play
were very high, and being nearly cleaned out he resolved to
take to robbery on the highway. The country he worked
was between Turnham Green and Hounslow Heath, and here
he met his fate. Information had reached him of a large sum
going to London by this road, and he laid in wait for it.
Presently two gentlemen came across the heath in a post
chaise, one of whom knew him, and bade him keep his
distance. Parsons did not dare to attack, but only hovered
around hoping to take the two at a disadvantage, but having
no opportunity. At last he unwarily entered the town of
Hounslow with them, when these gentlemen called upon him
to surrender. They took him to the Rose and Crown,
where he was disarmed and searched; in his pockets a
quantity of powder and ball was discovered. The landlord
also bore witness that Parsons answered the description of the
highwayman who had long infested the neighbouring roads.
He was soon committed to Newgate, and from the first
there was no hope for him. He lay there five months, during
which he wrote many letters and petitions, one of the latter
to the king himself, others were to his wife, his relations, and
influential friends, all to no purpose ; he was thought too
deserving of death to be reprieved, and he suffered on the
11th of February, 1750.
JAMES MACLEAN.
This was another " gentleman " highwayman who achieved
great notoriety about the same time as Parsons, and who,
although not high born, came of decent, respectable folk ; his
father, Laughlin Maclean, was a Presbyterian minister at
Monaghan, in the north of Ireland, and his eldest brother
was also in orders, and became pastor to the English congre-
gation at the Hague. James was brought up for a merchant,
was taught Latin, and became " a perfect master of writing
and accompts," but his father died as he was on the point
of putting him with a Scotch merchant at Rotterdam. Mr.
Maclean left no great store, but there was enough to establish
James in business ; the youth, however, enchanted at becoming
348 HiaSWAYMEN AND MAIL GOAGE BOBBERS.
his own master at eighteen, " forgot all thoughts of a Dutch
Compting House, equipped himself in the gayest dress he
could procure, bought a fine gelding and set up as a man
of fashion."
The little town of Monaghan was too narrow for his
ambition, and he soon moved to Dublin, where he designed
to assure his fortune by a rich marriage. But he only ran
through his money, making no better acquaintances but
lacqueys, ostlers, and some raw boys at the university, and in
eleven months he was quite penniless. He returned on foot
to Monaghan to be the laughing-stock of the place; his
relatives would have nothing to say to him: he was even
refused credit for a dinner, and must have starved had not a
gentleman passing through offered him the place of servant,
his man having just died.
He was ill-fitted for a footman, with a saucy tongue and
high notions of his gentility, and was soon discharged. But
failing to get any help beyond a few pounds from his brother
at the Hague, he again took service, now as butler to a family
in Cork, which place he also lost through misconduct. His
first master now generously helped him to return to London,
where he thought of joining the array, but would accept nothing
but a pair of colours, which he had no money to buy. He
would have gone to France as a soldier iu the Irish legion,
but had Protestant scruples as to serving a Catholic king.
He would assuredly have starved but for his marriage with
the daughter of an innkeeper and horse-dealer, with whom he
received £500. With this capital he started as a grocer and
chandler, and might have done well but for his love of
pleasure and weak desire to appear as a gentleman.
Then his wife died, and selling off all he possessed, he
sought to replace her by resuming his laced clothes and
seeking another and a better fortune. He hoped to win an
heiress by " the gracefulness of his person and the elegance of
his appearance." He went to Tunbridge Wells, passed off as
a fashionable beau, and had almost succeeded, when an
unfortunate quarrel with an apothecary led to the exposure
of his early vicissitudes as a footman and a grocer. He was
ABOVE HIS STATION. 349
everywhere given the cold shoulder, and returned to London
with no more than live guineas in his pocket. His friends
now got enough money together to send him to Jamaica, but
when they rashly entrusted it to his own keeping he promptly
lost the whole at the gaming-tables.
An Irish doctor, one Plunkett, " who had lived all his hfe-
time on the sharp," with whom he had had dealings, now
suggested that Maclean should take to the road. "They
agreed upon a kind of co-partnership, and hired two horses."
Plunkett provided pistols, for he was not new to the business,
and then lay in wait for graziers returning from Smithfield
Market, one of whom they robbed without resistance of sixty
or seventy pounds. Maclean did not take kindly to the work;
although they both wore "Venetian masques." "This thin
covering," says the chronicler, " could not stifle conscience in
Maclean, nor animate him to courage." He was with Plunkett,
but had no hand in it, for his fear was so great he had no
power to utter a word, nor to draw his pistol. "After the
robbery he rode for miles without speaking ; when they
reached an inn he hid himself, and seemed afraid of his very
shadow."
Their next attempt was against the St. Alban's coach,
and Maclean engaged in it with marked reluctance. At
last, goaded by his companion's taunts, he said, "needs
must when the devil drives ; I am out of shoes and must don
boots." In the attack he behaved "in so distracted a manner"
that it almost failed. Afterwards, at Richmond, where they
took refuge, he " had as much the horrors as at London ; " " no
rest, no peace of mind, was suUen, sulky, and perplexed
what course to pursue."
Yet Plunkett kept him busy, and during the next six
months they had committed alone or together some six-
teen robberies, in Hyde Park, near Marylebone, or within
twenty miles of London, and got some large prizes. They
rode down towards Chester, too, and waylaid several parties
between Stony Stratford and Whitchurch, but their greatest
.haul was after their return to town, where they learnt that
an officer of the East India Company's service was bringing
350 HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL OOAGH ROBBERS.
a large sum of money to London, and stopped him near
Greenwich. After this Maclean paid a short visit to his
brother at the Hague, while Plunkett looked about and
prepared for fresh enterprises.
The pair were now pretty well known about St. James's,
" as well as any gentlemen that lived in that quarter,"
wrote Horace Walpole, "who perhaps go upon the road
too." Walpole himself had been robbed by them of a watch,
and a pistol having gone off in the encounter the bullet had
grazed his cheekbone. They had, however, nearly come
to the end of their tether. On the 26th June, 1750, riding
by Tumham Green, they came up with the Salisbury coach
with five male passengers and one female. They obliged
the men to descend one by one and robbed them of all
they had, the lady was not ill-treated, and they only took
what she chose to offer. After this Maclean was foolish
enough to return for the cloak bags which were in the
boot of the coach, and these led to his arrest. For that
same day (on which they also robbed the Earl of Eglin-
ton of only seven guineas) Maclean sent to a Jew sales-
man to call and look at some clothes he had to sell.
These were part of the contents of the cloak bag, and they
were presently identified with certain effects for which one
of the victims had advertised. Maclean was yet more un-
lucky, for he had stripped the gold lace off a coat and
offered it for sale to the very lace man who had supplied it.
When apprehended he strongly denied his guilt, then
made full confession, hoping to be accepted as king's
evidence against Plunkett, and when this was refused,
behaved " in a most dastardly and pusillanimous manner,
whimpering and crying like a whipt schoolboy." He tried
to retract his confession when brought to trial, but the
jury found him guilty without leaving the court. He was
sentenced to death and suffered at Tyburn.
GALLOPING DICK.
Richard Ferguson, who gained this sobriquet, was of
the same stamp as Sixteen-string Jack. The son of a
"QALLOPING BIGK." 351
gentleman's valet, lie was taken as helper, and being a
smart, active lad, was soon advanced to the rank of postillion,
which in due course took him to London. But here he
fell into bad ways, and lost both his place and his char-
acter. After frequenting public-houses and low haunts,
making many vicious acquaintances, and falling, as it
seemed, beyond hope of recovery, he was rescued for a
time by obtaining a billet with a livery-stable keeper in
Piccadilly. By degrees he rehabilitated himself, and so
pleased his master that at the latter's death he found that
he had inherited a legacy of £50.
This proved his ruin. It seemed untold wealth, but it
was soon squandered in riotous living. Again Ferguson
sought service, and found it in his old line as postiUion.
The roads he travelled were in and about the metropolis,
and one night he fell in with the famous Jerry Abershaw,
the highwayman, with whom he was slightly acquainted.
Abershaw knew that his life was in Ferguson's hands, and
set some of his companions to corrupt him. He was in-
vited to supper and induced, after a night spent in revelry,
to become one of their number. At first, however, it was
considered best to employ him only as an informer and
spy; he knew all the neighbouring roads well, and, still
working as a postillion, he could give early news of any
profitable business. In this way he led many of those he
drove straight into the mouth of the highwaymen, who
thus secured considerable booty. But Ferguson's collusion
was suspected, and he presently lost his place as postiUion.
Now he threw himself eagerly into the more daring
business, and took to the road himself His courage was
remarkable, his knowledge of horses invaluable, and as
he was always well mounted and rode at top speed, he
gained the title of "Galloping Dick." Again and again
he escaped when the pursuers were close on his heels,
and once in an aifair off Edgware Road, while two of his
companions were captured, he galloped clear away. It
was supposed that he was concerned in almost every im.
portant highway robbery for many years. He was highly
352 HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL GOACH BOBBERS.
esteemed by his confederates, and his name was a terror
to the travelling public. He was frequently arrested and
brought to trial, but, strange to say, as often acquitted. At
last he was taken red-handed, near Aylesbury, having just
committed a very daring robbery. There was no question
now of his guilt; he was arraigned, and, on convincing
evidence, sentenced to death.
ROBBING THE MAIL.
When improved communications and the establishment
of mounted patrols along the highways checked the pro-
ceedings of the gentlemen of the road, another class of
depredators came into fashion. As overt force was no
longer possible, artifice and stratagem were employed. It
was still necessary in banking and commercial transactions
to transmit considerable sums in cash to the provinces
from the capital, and vice versd, so that there was much
tempting spoil constantly in transit along the road. Some
very clever robberies were effected from coaches, but
before describing them it will be interesting to note that
the mails were often stopped in the earlier days and some
very daring robberies effected. Thus as far back as 1781
the Bristol mail cart, when being driven between Maiden-
head and Cranford Bridge o its way to the London General
Post Office, in Lombard Street, was stopped and rifled by a
single highwayman. The robber, at the pistol's point, desired
the post-boy to alight and go back whence he came, but not
to turn his head or he would be shot. On reaching Houns-
low, however, the boy gave the alarm, and the whole village
rose to go in pursuit of the thief The wheels of the cart
were tracked along the Uxbridge road as far as Ealing
Common, near which, in a field, lying on its side, the cart
itself was found. The mail bags from Bristol and Bath had
been cut open and ransacked, their contents lay mostly
strewn about the ground, but all letters with valuables had
been abstracted. Twenty-eight other bags had been carried
off bodily, although one or two had been picked up at other
points, all of them rifled.
BOBBING THE MAIL. 363
News of the robbery was sent post-haste to London, and
handbills, giving an account of the transaction, with a
promised reward for the arrest of the unknown thief, were
circulated throughout the country. The very day after the
robbery, on the 30th January, a gentleman arrived at Notting-
ham, a hundred miles from Maidenhead, travelling post with
well-paid postillions. He was a naval officer in uniform, and
he desired the waiter of the Black Moor's Head, where he
put up, to go with certain bills drawn in Bristol and obtain
cash for them at Smith's bank. Messrs. Smith refused to
accept them without knowing more of the holder; but
another long-established bank of Nottingham, Wright's,
made no difficulty when the naval officer in his uniform came
and presented one himself at their counter. He endorsed
it "James Jackson," in a scrawling hand, got his cash,
returned to the inn, and ordered a post-chaise to take him on
his road. That was through Mansfield and Chesterfield,
northward to Leeds, York, Northallerton, Darlington and
Durham, to Newcastle, and thence to Carlisle, and his track
was followed by the bank biUs he cashed along the route
wherever he could. From Carlisle, having got rid of much
of his paper, he turned once more southward, taking the
direct road to London:
One of the handbills advertising the robbery fell into the
hands of Mr. Wright, the banker of Nottingham, who at once
concluded that his naval officer was the man who had stopped
the mail cart near Maidenhead. He caused the notice to be
immediately reprinted, and distributed copies in his own
neighbourhood. Thus the joint post-master and keeper of
the Saracen's Head, Newark, learnt what had happened,
and remembered that on the 2nd February a naval officer had
come to his house in a chaise and four, had changed horses
and a £25 note, then posted on to Grantham. Keen pursuit
was started at once, but the man wanted reached London
three hours before those who followed him. He had been
heard of at Enfield, whence four fresh horses had carried him
to Bishopsgate Street the same night. There he changed
into a hackney coach, taking with him his portmanteau and
354 HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL GOAGH BOBBERS.
his pistols. The post-boys saw him drive off, but did not hear
the address he gave the coachman or mark the number of the
coach.
^ The Bow Street officers were now put upon the track of
this masquerading naval officer, and a reward was offered for
the hackney coachman which soon brought him out. He
proved to be an old friend and fellow lodger of his fare, whom
he knew as George Weston, and whom he had driven that
night to a court off Newgate Street. Weston had alighted
here, and disappeared through the court, with his portmanteau
and pistols under his arm, and that was the last seen of him.
But a naval officer's uniform coat and waistcoat had been
picked up in the Pimlico sewer, near Chelsea waterworks,
and identified as his, and his continued presence in London
was surmised from the large number of the stolen bills and
bank notes that were being put off at various banks in the
town.
The missing man was at last run into by chance, although
he had strengthened the scent by another misdeed. A man
had swindled several London tradesmen out of furniture and
other goods for a house near Winchelsea. He had also
victimised a jeweller, and the whole of them, combining, went
down to Winchelsea, accompanied by a sheriffs officer. The
swindler and a friend were encountered riding on the high
road, when a sharp affray ensued. The villains beat off their
assailants, then galloped home, packed up their plate and
valuables, and disappeared, travelling towards London. A
conference followed between the Londoners and the local
authorities at a public-house, and the description of the man
wanted was given out aloud. It was overheard by a
frequenter of the place. This feUow produced one of the
handbills first published from Bow Street, advertising for the
maU. cart robber, and it was seen that the swindler and
George Weston were one and the same.
Report of this was made forthwith to Bow Street, and a
fresh hue and cry was raised for Weston and his companion.
They were traced from place to place, and at last to an hotel
near Wardour Street, Soho, where the landlord took their
THE BOBBERY OF THE LEEDS MAIL. 355
part, and warned them of coming danger. They ran for it,
producing pistols when the officers came up; many shots
were exchanged, and a sharp fight followed, but they were
captured after all. The prisoners were two brothers Weston ;
one a noted highwayman, the other a receiver, and both were
soon afterwards tried and hanged.
We come later on (1812) to the robbery of the Leeds maU
at Higham Ferrers, in Northamptonshire, under the following
circumstances. The money (to what amount is not stated in
the records) was carried in the boot of the coach, under the
special charge of the guard. But during his momentary
absence the thieves opened the lock, and carried off the bags.
Two persons had been seen that afternoon in a gig near
Higham Ferrers, the only gig that had passed that way during
the evening. The same two men were seen at a public-house
hard by late that night. They were tracked all the way to
London, where one of them, a notorious robber named Huffey
White, who was concerned in the robbery of the Paisley
Bank, at Glasgow, was found to have negotiated some of the
bills and notes which had been abstracted from the bags.
Huffey White and his associate were forthwith arrested,
and tried for their lives at Northampton, where eventually
they suffered death.
THE HERTFORD MAIL ROBBED.
These mail coach robberies were often perpetrated by
men who had been officials or employes, and thus had special
knowledge of the machinery and method of transmitting
valuable parcels. Two remarkable cases occurred in 1813-14,
in which the thieves were, or had been, guards. One was a
clever theft from the Hertford coach, which by arrangement
carried notes and bullion from Christie's bank, in Hertford, to
the Bull inn, Holborn, where they were handed over to the
bankers' representatives in London. The system was to
enclose parcels of notes and bills in an iron-bound box, which
was carefuUy locked, the keys in duplicate being held by the
bankers at each end. When remittances were to be made,
the box was always taken to the coach office and securely
356 HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL OOAGH BOBBERS.
screwed into a small receptacle inside and at the back of the
coach, the vehicle then standing in the street, opposite the
inn door. On the evening of the 14th May, Messrs. Christie's
clerk brought the box, and was seen by a witness to put it in
its place. Immediately after the clerk had left, another man,
who had been hanging about the market-place and street,
got into the coach, and remained inside for five minutes, very
much in the same attitude as the clerk had been when
fastening down the box. He presently walked off, and was
not seen again. Certainly he did not travel by the coach.
During this brief space the robbery had been effected. On
the arrival of the coach at the Bull inn, Holbom, the recep-
tacle was opened by the bank clerk who attended on purpose,
but it was found empty. The iron box was gone. From
the evidence of the person in Hertford who had seen
what happened, suspicion was attracted to a man named
Cooke, who had once been guard to the Monmouth mail
coach, and who was believed to be living in Lazenby Court,
Long Acre. He was not found there, his wife declaring him
to be at Brighton, although, as a fact, he had gone over to
Dieppe. Before going he had called on a woman named
Porter, whom he had asked to take charge of a small parcel of
notes, £200 worth, and she had noticed that he had a great
many more.
Vickery, the Bow Street runner, so often mentioned
already in these pages, was charged with the pursuit of
Cooke, whom he knew well, and whom, after a long search, he
came upon quite unexpectedly, travelling up to town by the
Yarmouth coach. Cooke was apprehended at the Whalebone
turnpike, on the Romford road, and suffered the extreme
penalty.
A couple of years before, in October, 1813, another robbery
had been successfully accomplished from the Swansea mail
on its journey between Newport and Bristol Certain New-
port bankers had transmitted a number of notes and cash to
their London agents, enclosed in a box which for greater
security was placed in a canvas bag with another address on
it, to give it the appearance of an ordinary parcel The bag
A DI8S0NE8T GUARD. 357
and box reached London, but the valuables within had dis-
appeared. Vickery was again employed, and at Bristol, a long
time afterwards, he met the man Weller, who had been guard
to the Swansea coach on the day of the robbery. From him
he elicited the fact that he (the guard) had seen the bag
en route, but this was all he would say, although Vickery was
certain he knew more. The next day, feeling, no doubt, that
the scent was warm, Weller absconded, was picked up in
London, and apprehended. When committed to the House
of Correction, at Coldbath Fields, he voluntarily confessed
that he had opened the canvas bag, also the box within, had
abstracted the parcel of valuables, and then, making all right
on the surface, had left the coach at Bristol with his plunder.
The notes had been in part changed into coin at Bristol,
through the intermediary of a woman named Hickman, a
friend of the thief. She had changed nearly £400 in this
way at various shops in Bristol, but, growing alarmed, had
buried the rest — £700 worth — in a hole in her garden, where
they remained for fifteen months. When dug up they were
in a very damaged condition.
ROBBING THE CALAIS-DOVEE MAIL.
In the early morning of the 29th January, 1827, when
the mail portmanteau was taken from the Dover coach
into the General Post Office, Lombard Street, it was seen
that it had been cut open with a knife. The hole was
large enough to admit of the abstraction of the inner bags,
and when they were counted over and compared with
the way-bill the Italian bag was found to be missing. The
solicitor to the Post Office went down to Dover forthwith
and soon ascertained that the robbery must have been
effected on this side of the Channel. The great mail bag
had been landed intact from the French packet, for it had
been impounded by the Custom House authorities on account
of its suspicious weight and closely examined for contra-
band. The inquiry was therefore narrowed to the
Dover coach and what might have happened along the
Dover road. There were four inside passengers booked
358 HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL COACH BOBBERS.
through to London, and three outside, one of the latter
going no further than Canterbury, while another was booked
as far as he pleased along the road. These two had got
down at Canterbury and were joined by a third man who
was waiting for them. The party presently entered the
Kose Inn, where they ordered a post chaise for London.
Kefreshments were served in a private room, and the waiter,
entering suddenly, found them busy with an open bag, from
which they were drawing a number of letters and packets,
feeling them and examining them minutely by the Hght
of a candle.
These travellers, after they started for London, were
easUy traced along the road. Many people met them, and
joined the innkeeper and waiter of the "Rose" in furnishing
particulars of appearance. The description given was like
print to the Bow Street officers, who read it at once, in one
case at least, as indicating a certain Tom Partridge, a
man often in trouble, and always on account of mail-coach
robberies. He was soon hunted down, and when captured
easily identified as one of the outside passengers by the
Dover coach on the night of the crime. A conviction
seemed certain, yet when tried at the next Maidstone
assizes he was able to put in an undeniable alibi, and was
necessarily acquitted. It was proved by witnesses that on
the night of the 29th January, and for many days before,
he was travelling in the far west of England, from Exeter
to Tiverton ; he had been seen at Glastonbury, Bridge-
water, and other places. The defence was supported by
facts that admitted of no sort of doubt, and the jury could
not but conclude that Partridge was guiltless of the Dover
affair.
Two years later the same solicitor to the Post Office
was walking along Bishopsgate, when he met Tom Part-
ridge, whom he had not forgotten, nor the still unexplained
alibi. Tom went into a public-house, came out again, and,
as he stood in the street, was hailed from a window above
by another Tom, his exact facsimile. The man had a double,
his elder brother Sam, " as like him as two peas." From
TOM PARTBinOE. 359
inquiries set on foot it came out that Sam Partridge had
been long absent in America, and on his return the plot
was laid against the French mail. As a leading part of
it the alibi was prepared. Sam was the brother in the
west of England, travelling there ostentatiously, seen and
spoken to by many; Tom meanwhile was despoiling the
foreign mail bags. But the robbery had not been effected
on the high road, as was supposed. Tom Partridge and
his confederates (one of whom gave away the whole story
after the likeness of the two brothers had been disclosed)
had watched the mail portmanteau into the agent's office
at Dover, where it lay unprotected the whole of that Sun-
day afternoon. Then Tom, with a skeleton key, opened
the office door, and the thieves walked in to work their
wicked will on the mail bags. How the gash, made in the
leather side of the portmanteau, had passed unnoticed
when the coach was loaded did not transpire.
BOBBING THE GLASGOW COACH.
One of the most dexterous coach robberies on record
was effected in 1831, on the Prince Regent coach, which
plied between Glasgow and Edinburgh. A bank parcel
containing notes and gold to the value of £5,700 had been
sent by the branch of the Commercial Bank in Glasgow
to its headquarters at Edinburgh. The parcel was con-
tained in a tin box and placed in the coach with the usual
precautions. On arrival at Edinburgh, the coachman who
drove the last stage, on opening the boot, found that the
valuable contents had been abstracted from the box. They
must have been secured from the inside, for the stuffing
had been cut and an entrance made into the boot of the
coach by first piercing the woodwork with a brace bit,
then cutting out a piece with a saw. The thieves had
thus got at the box from the interior of the coach, and
rifled it, leaving the paper in which the parcel had been
packed and part of one of the notes. All that was known
at first was that the whole of the inside seats had been
secured in Glasgow, four in the name of a Mrs. Gordon,
360 HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL OOAOH ROBBERS.
two in that of a Mr. Johnstone. Yet the coach had
really started without any inside passengers. Beyond the
town a man and a woman were taken up and travelled
inside to within three miles of Airdrie, where they left the
coach. There was at this time one outside passenger only,
and he appears to have got down to help the others out
of the coach.
A long and searching inquiry was at once set on foot,
which, through the arduous and persevering efforts of a
police officer named Nish, brought about the arrest of the
thieves. They seem to have been discovered iu the first
instance through the notes which they had stolen. AU
had been issued by the Commercial Bank, and had blue
borders of a peculiar kind, differing from the notes generally
in circulation. They were to the value of £20, £5, and £1
respectively. The moving spirit in the robbery was a coach
proprietor named George Gilchrist, who lived on the road
between Glasgow and Edinburgh, and who was well aware
of the precious burden often carried by the Prince Kegent
coach. He laid his plans accordingly to rob the coach,
and worked it with several assistants, principally his
brother, William GUchrist, and one James Brown. On the
day of the robbery William Gilchrist and Brown travelled
from Glasgow on the outside. Three miles out, George
Gilchrist, who was disguised in female apparel, met the
coach, accompanied by another assistant and from the
precaution taken to secure the whole of the inside seats
the thieves had now the interior to themselves. George
Gilchrist set to work at once, and, having ripped up the
cloth lining, attacked the body of the coach with brace
and bit; they soon had access sufficient to allow them to
prize open the tin box with a chisel. Then they got out
two parcels of notes and a heavy package which was
supposed to be gold. After that the Ud was shut down
and the box put back seemingly untouched. The two
thieves then concealed the notes and gold in their pockets ;
Gilchrist put on his shawl and bonnet. On a signal from
Brown above that the coast was clear, George Gilchrist and
A CLEVER OOAGH ROBBEBT. 361
his companion walked rapidly away till they came to a
plantation, where Gilchrist took off his disguise and re-
sumed men's clothes.
All the thieves were put upon their trial, and only
George Gilchrist was conyicted. He was sentenced to
death, but, on making important disclosures to the police
of the whereabouts of a great portion of the booty, the
capital sentence was commuted to transportation for Hfe.
Here is one more story on all fours with those pre-
ceding, in which another clever coach robbery was com-
mitted in the town of Bury (Lancashire), on I7th February,
1842. Messrs. Cunliffes, Brooks and Co., bankers, of
Manchester, had been in the habit of forwarding fort-
nightly large quantities of cash and notes to their bank
at Blackburn. On the above - mentioned evening the
usual messenger took down to the coach a box containing
1,500 sovereigns and £500 in Bank of England notes,
and deposited it in the fore-boot, as was his custom. The
messenger remained standing by the coach, and whilst
there a man named Skerrett, who had formerly been em-
ployed at the inn whence the coach started, came up in a
hurried manner with a drab-coloured carpet bag in his hand,
stating it belonged to a gentleman who was going by
the coach. The carpet bag seemed light, and the job of
depositing it should not have occupied a minute ; but it was
remarked that Skerrett remained standing, mounted on the
coach, one foot on the splinter-bar and the other on the fore-
wheel, fumbling about in the boot for some time. The horse-
keeper at the horses' heads also noticed Skerrett's pecuhar
conduct, and called to him to come down. Skerrett not
doing as he was told, the man let go the horses' heads, the
animals became restive, and Skerrett was thrown off. Now
the passengers, four in number, mounted to their seats ; three
were known, but the fourth was a stranger, and understood to
be the owner of the carpet bag. There was also a man
muffled up who sat on the box-seat with the driver, and from
his looks excited the latter's attention. On arrival at a turn-
pike gate, two miles from Bury, the man who sat with the
362 HIGHWAYMEN AND MAIL COACH BOBBERS.
coachman alighted and inquired his way to Kadcliff ; he was,
no doubt, an accomphce, for on inquiries no such man had
been seen at RadcHff. On the arrival of the coach at the
" White Horse," Bury, the strange man — the supposed owner
of the carpet bag — stood on the coach- wheel after the other
passengers had alighted, as if endeavouring to get his bag
out of the boot. He was observed to pull at the bag, as
though it contained something heavy ; he struggled with it
while on the coach wheel, and seemed to have great difficulty
in getting it down on to the flagway. Finally he succeeded,
and, entering the bar of the inn, placed the carpet bag on
the floor beside him. The landlady's attention was drawn to
him as he appeared agitated, but he was not interfered with.
When the coachman came in, the man with the bag offered
him a glass of brandy and they drank together, after which
the coach went on, leaving the passenger behind.
It was evident that the fore-boot containing the cash-box
was not examined at Bury; equally certain that the box
would then have been missed, and that had it been searched
for at once it must have been found in the carpet bag. As
it was, the man who had brought in the bag no doubt
passed it on to others — one or more accomplices already in
the house — who must have conveyed it away surreptitiously
from the bar. It was never seen again. Soon afterwards the
man who had brought it was seen to leave the inn a short
time after the coach had started ; he walked down the street
at a rapid pace and presently broke into a run. That was the
last of him.
CHAPTER XV.
CRIMES OF THE HIGHWAYS.
Early Pirates and Sea Eobbere — Piracy Foouesed in the West Indies— Some
Famous Rovers : Captain Teach, Major Bonnet, &c. — Later Piracies — A
Modem Instance of Attempted Piracy — The Ferret, of Glasgow — Other
Forms of Piracy— Mutiny at Sea : Jefferson Bordm, Flowery Land, and the
Lennie — Marine Insurance Frauds — Early Cases — The RacTiette — The
Adventure cast away by Captain Codling — Frequency of these Frauds — The
Bannah Mary, and others — Methods Employed — The Dryad, Severn, Amora
Oliver.
PIRACY AND ROBBERY AFLOAT.
The great highway of the sea has always offered peculiar
facilities to the adventurous spirit. Piracy is as old as the
hUls. " There be land-rats and water-rats, water thieves and
land thieves, I mean pirates," says Shylock in the Merchant
of Venice. The old sea rovers were no better than banditti ;
the modern buccaneer was foreshadowed by the Greek pirates
of the jiEgean Seas ; the pirates of the Mediterranean were a
standing menace to Rome. These last issued from the coast
of Africa, where they had their arsenals and commodious
harbours holding mighty fleets, " weU equipped and furnished,
with galliots of oars, manned not only with men of desperate
courage, but also with expert pirates and mariners" ;
they were not contented with " committing piracies and in-
solencies by sea," but they made conquests by land ; " they
took and sacked no less than four hundred cities '' in the time
of Csesar, " plundered the temples of the gods, enriched them-
selves with the offerings deposited in them, plundered the
villages along the seacoast, ransacked the fine houses of the
noblemen along the Tiber." It is quite possible, according to
the historian, that when Pompey attacked the pirates and beat
them they might have overthrown him, if they had concen-
trated, and "Rome, which had conquered the whole world,
might have been subdued by a parcel of pirates." It was they
364 0BIME8 OF THE HIGHWAYS.
who first invented the practice of walking the plank. When
they took a ship they hung out the ladder, and, telling each
person he had his liberty, " desired him to walk out of the
ship, and this in the middle of the sea, all with mighty
shouts of laughter, so wanton were they in their cruelty."
The Scandinavians and Norsemen were aU pure pirates.
Later on, the Barbary corsairs were the masters of the
Mediterranean, and levied blackmail upon the world's com-
merce. Bajbarossa defied the whole strength of Charles V.,
and his great exploits were imitated by generations of petty
pirates issuing from Tunis and Algiers. Nor they alone.
In mediaeval days vessels richly freighted were ever Hable
to attack, and when robbed, restitution or redress could never
be obtained from the government or country to which the
pirates belonged. The Hanseatic League was formed for
common protection against the rovers of the Baltic. Pirates
in the sixteenth century infested the narrow seas, the
English, French, and Dutch waters, and were a perpetual
scourge to the shipping of all nations at that period.
The discovery of the New World opened up new seas
pecuUarly well adapted to the trade of pirates, whose noxious
business was long focussed, so to speak, in the West Indian
Islands. The first fiUbusters were English and French
settlers, who would have disputed the Spanish supremacy in
the West Indies. These freebooters, who came to be known as
buccaneers, prospered greatly by preying upon the ships of
every flag, long resisting every attempt at suppression, and
were a continual pest upon the high seas. As I have said,
the pirates aflected the West Indies, because they found here
" so many uninhabited little islands and quays, with harbours
convenient and secure for cleansing their vessels, and abound-
ing with what they often want, provision : water, seafowl,
turtle, shell and other fish." It was a fine cruising ground,
moreover, for there was much commerce between those parts
and Europe : " they are sure in the latitude of these trading
islands to meet with prizes, booties of provision, clothing and
naval stores, and sometimes money, there being great sums
remitted this way to England . . . and, in short, by some
WEST INDIAN PIRATES. 366
one or other, all the riches of Potosi." Yet again, the traffic
was encouraged by the difficulty of pursuit among the many
small islands, lagoons and harbours, -which afforded many
natural refuges for the pirates. At the commencement of
the eighteenth century a very determined effort was made
to suppress piracy in the West Indies. "The pirates are
grown so numerous that they infest, not only the seas near
Jamaica, but even those of the Northern Continent of
America, and, unless some effectual means be used, the whole
trade from Great Britain to those parts wiU not only be
obstructed but in imminent danger of being lost." A general
combination of the Eiiropean nations was formed against
them. The rover and sea-robber was held to be hostis humani
generis, the enemy of the whole human race. The offence
was international felony, and might be punished by any com-
petent authority in any country on the coasts of which there
had been piUage or in the waters of which violence had
been perpetrated.
England took the lead in this league, and a whole
fleet of king's ships was ordered to cruise along the West
India Islands. No doubt they did much to clear the seas of
such pests. They disposed of such depredators as Captain
Teach, the notorious " Black Beard," who gained his name
firom "that large quantity of hair," which, according to a
contemporary chronicle, " covered his whole face like a
frightful meteor, and frightened America more than any
comet that has appeared there for a long time." "This
beard was black," goes on the same account ; " he suffered it to
grow to an extravagant length ; as to breadth, it came up to
his eyes ; he was accustomed to twist it with ribbons and in
small taUs, after the manner of our RamiUes wigs, and turn
them about his ears ; in time of action he wore a sling over
his shoulders, with three brace of pistols, hanging in holsters
with bandoliers; and stuck lighted matches under his hat,
which appearing on each side of his face, his eyes naturally
looking fierce and wild, made him altogether such a figure,
that imagination cannot form an idea of a Fury, from Hell, to
look more frightful"
366 GRIMES OF TEE HIGHWAYS.
Another pirate then suppressed was Major Stede Bonnet,
who had been bred a gentleman and was the "master of
a plentiful fortune," who took to piracy, it was supposed,
from a disordered mind, and who, after many vicissitudes,
was hanged at Charlestown, South Carolina, with aU his crew.
There was Captain Edward England, again, the scene of
whose depredations was rather East than West, and who,
after ravaging South Africa and Madagascar, returned to the
Spanish West Indies and surrendered to the Spanish governor
of Porto Bello. There were Captain Charles Vane, hanged at
Jamaica ; Captain Racham, who also suffered there with his
crew ; there was Anne Bonney, the female pirate, who became
Racham's wife, and who was present at his execution, where
she reproached him, saying, " If he had fought like a man, he
need not have been hanged like a dog." Mary Read was
another female pirate who sailed in several pirate ships and
was eventually hanged. There was Captain Bartho Roberts,
once an honest shipmaster, afterwards one of the boldest and
most systematic of the West Indian pirates. On one occasion
he plundered, sank or burned twenty-two sail in a harbour of
Newfoundland, and soon afterwards a number of others,
making a total of 400 captures. He extended his depre-
dations to Whydah, in Calabar, and he was eventually killed
in an engagement with a king's ship. He made a gallant
figure throughout the fight, " being dressed in a rich
crimson damask waistcoat and breeches, a red feather in
his hat, a gold chain round his neck, with a diamond
cross hanging to it, a sword in his hand, and two pair of
pistols hanging at the end of a silk sling, flung over his
shoulders (according to the fashion of the pirates), and is
said to have given his orders with boldness and spirit."
The list is long, and the story always much the same.
Captain Anstis, Captain Worley, Captain George Lowther, all
hanged on the gallows ; Captain John Phillips, Captain Smith,
alias Gow, also hanged ; Captain Phillip Roche, who was one
of the first to invent the fraud of insuring ships to a great
value and then destrojring them, of whom it was said that
" his black and savage nature did nowise answer to the
A NEST OF PIRATES. 367
comeliness of his person, his life being almost one continued
scene of villany.''
The West Indies continued to be a nest of pirates far into
the present century, and warships, both English and American,
were constantly engaged with these modern freebooters. Their
depredations extended into the Gulf of Mexico, and a United
States cruiser captured a pirate vessel off the mouth of the
Mississippi in 1819. During that year there were no fewer
than forty-four cases of piracy in these parts, and sixteen
pirates were executed at New Orleans. The New York
insurance oifices at length petitioned the President to take
more active measures against the growing evil. There were
some 15,000 to 20,000 seamen engaged in piracy, but under
cover of commissions issued by the South American States.
The pirates boldly sent their prizes into the neighbouring
ports for sale ; the booty was openly disposed of at Matanzas
and the Havannah ; houses were filled with them, there was a
regular price current; Russian sheeting was six dollars per
piece, gin one and a half dollars per case, nails four dollars per
can, a doubloon (16 doUars) would purchase a horse- load of
merchandise.
The combined efforts of the cruisers made no impression
for some years. It was reported in an American newspaper
that " piracy gains strength daily, and must be put down, or
it will acquire force of appalling character. Spain is powerless
to control it; other nations must do so." There was a
great conflict in July, 1823, with Diableto's piratical schooner.
Next year, June, 1824, H.M.S. Hussar, pursuing pirates about
the Isle of Pines, destroyed a whole fleet of pirates, " Pepe's "
falucha with two schooners and three piratical canoes. In
the same neighbourhood the British cutter Grecian engaged a
force double its strength, and killed the famous pirate La Cata.
Another sloop of war captiured a pirate schooner off' St.
Domingo, with a crew of sixty, and plunder on board to the
value of 20,000 dollars, all in specie. Again, " Old Tom," an
ex-convict captain, was captured off New Providence, and
another, Lafitte, a notorious pirate who refused quarter.
Spain now began to wake up, and eleven pirates were hanged
368 CRIMES OF THE HIGHWAYS.
in 1825 at Porto Rico. The merchants of St. Domingo fitted
out a ship of their own, commanded, strange to say, by a
colonel, who, after a twelve days' cruise, secured twenty-two
pirates, and returned with much goods and treasure.
Gradually order and security were re-established.
An extraordinary case of proposed piracy was laid bare in
1881, but the details of this clcYcr scheme show that it is
difficult nowadays to escape the network of modern marine
police.
In September, 1880, a stranger arrived in Glasgow, giving
the name of Walker. Professing to act as broker on
behalf of a principal named Smith, he chartered the Ferret, a
steamer of 346 tons, from the Highland Railway Company,
stating that Smith intended to take a six months' yachting
cruise for the benefit of his wife's health. Stores were
obtained, including wine to the value of £1,490, the goods
being paid for by a three months' bill, which was afterwards
dishonoured. The steamer was taken down to Cardiff by a
temporary crew ; at Cardiff the new crew was shipped, coal
was taken on board, and there " Smith " and his invahd wife
made their appearance. The Ferret started on the first
of November, ostensibly for Marseilles. She passed through
the Straits of Gibraltar with Smith, or Henderson, as he
afterwards called himself, as owner, and Walker as purser.
After passing Gibraltar the steamer's funnel, previously white,
was painted black ; and her boats, before blue, became white.
The ship's course was turned round in the night, and she
steered back past Gibraltar with lights obscured. Then, when
nearly out of the Straits, boats, buoys, casks, and other articles
bearing upon them the name of the Ferret were thrown
overboard. When the crew became inquisitive, they were
answered with threats ; secrecy was imposed on pain of death.
On the other hand, handsome remuneration was promised to
all who would co-operate in the venture, which was frankly
stated to be piracy.
The steamer reached the Cape Verd Islands on
November 21st, where fresh stores were shipped, and a bill —
fraudulent, of course — was given in payment. Leaving Cape
MODERN PIBAGY. 369
Verd, the name of the ship was changed to the Benton,
and the confederates steered for Santos, where, after some
delay, they obtained by false pretences a cargo of coffee for
Marseilles. They then steamed off a straight course for Cape
Town, and on the way the name of the ship was again
changed to the India. At Cape Town the coffee from Santos
was sold for between £13,000 and £15,000.
Eventually the Ferret, alias Benton, aUas India, arrived out
at Melbourne. Already the real owners, the Highland Railway
Company, had become anxious for their property ; no news
had reached Lloyd's of the vessel's movements. She had
not been sighted or reported, and a watch was accordingly
set for her at all maritime stations. There might have been
no suspicion of the India had not the would-be pirates, a
little sick of their enterprise, sought to sell their borrowed
steamer. Walker, now calling himself Wallace, applied to a
shipping agent, Mr. Duthie, of Melbourne, to find a purchaser
but would not permit the sale to be advertised until all other
methods had failed. Meanwhile, Mr. Duthie had searched
Lloyd's Register, and could find no steamer India of the
Ferret's tonnage. He mentioned this, and was assured that
the vessel had been sent as a trader to the West Indies before
registration; that she had been purchased there by her
present owners, and that full particulars of her would no
doubt be found in the next supplement to Lloyd's list.
But this was not thought satisfactory, and there were
other suspicious circumstancea Neither captain nor crew
put foot ashore ; it was observed that the steamer's fires were
always banked, and that she was kept ready to go to sea at a
moment's notice. After some hesitation, the Commissioner of
Customs decided to seize the ship. Very condemnatory
evidence was at once secured. The changes in the steamer's
name and number were discovered. In the cabin was found
an advance note which had been issued for the steamer
Ferret. In a box were found the articles of the Ferret, a log
book purporting to be that of the Benton, and another
purporting to be that of the India. In a small tin box were
found duty stamps of all nations. Customs seals of all ports
370 CRIMES OF TEE SIQHWAY8.
where a steamer was likely to call. The sale or contract note
of the cargo of coffee also was found on board, and a secret
code of telegrams, which contained provision for the following
messages in cipher : — " Sell ship for most you can get, and
come home." " Accept charter referred to, and lose vessel
before you arrive in port." " Ship is fully insured. Destroy
her some way." "Ship is fully insured against fire. Bum
her." " Game is up ; all discovered. Destroy or hide every-
thing, and make yourself scarce. Communicate through the
arranged channeL" The officers and crew, when questioned,
spoke to the efforts made to win them over. The chief
engineer, who had been much dissatisfied, had inquired the
reason for the strange proceedings of the steamer in passing
and re-passing through the Straits of Gibraltar. "Smith,"
having first sworn him to secrecy, told him that he was
colonel of an American regiment, and had held high official
positions in the United States, but having been exiled for
political reasons, he dared not be seen in America. He was
now travelling incognito, and was desirous of destroying all
traces of his whereabouts.
Henderson, alias Smith, Wallace or Walker, and the cap-
tain, Wright, were apprehended, when the first-named made
the following statement : " I hold the ship for £275 or £276
a month for six months,. and I paid one month in advance.
I had the right to purchase the vessel for £7,000, and any-
thing I paid on account of the hire was to be deducted from the
purchase money. The charter party is in a box on board the
vesseL If I had been let alone I should have taken the ship
back. You see the six months are only just expired. There
is plenty of money to pay."
The prisoners made a desperate attempt to escape from
gaol while awaiting trial, but it faUed, and they were
eventually convicted of various other frauds, that of ship-
stealing included.
The organised efforts of the pirates became impossible
when the police of the high seas was more and more perfected,
and the black flag, when raised, inevitably drew down the
vengeance of all the nations. But other classes of crime
THE CASE OF THE "LENNIE." 371
constitute piracy, and these have never disappeared. Accord-
ing to the old law, " masters of ships, seamen or mariners who
ran away with any ship, barge, or boat were deemed pirates, and
also any who revolted, or mutinied, or committed any capital
or felonious crimes at sea." Some terrible tales of the sea
are on record, many of them within the memory of the
present generation. There was the mutiny of the Jefferson
Borden, an American ship, in which the mates were kiUed
and thrown overboard. It was preceded in point of time by
the murderous mutiny of the Flowery Land, a ship which
sailed for Singapore with a polyglot crew — Spaniards, Greeks,
Turks, a Frenchman, a Norwegian, three Chinamen, and a
black. Discipline had to be maintained with a high hand
among such truculent scoundrels, who at last turned on their
officers and took their revenge in blood. The captain was
killed in the dead of night, and the first mate, the
captain's brother, was thrown overboard; the second mate was
spared, in true Clark Russell style, in order to navigate the
ship. He took it to the River Plate, but while on board went
constantly in danger of his life. The crew ransacked the
ship, broached the cases of champagne which constituted the
cargo, and sailed on and on for weeks, continually drunk and
dangerous. On sighting land they scuttled the ship and
took to the boats, but on landing at a place north of
Maldonado, at the mouth of the River Plate, the mate
managed to give secret information to the Brazilian autho-
rities. The mutineers were arrested and sent home to
England for trial. Two of seven were reprieved, but the
other five were executed m. one batch.
The case of the Lennie, twelve years later (1876), was
another sea massacre on much the same lines as the Flowery
Land. The ship was manned with a foreign crew, aU Greeks
save one Frenchman, known as " French Peter," who even-
tually became the ringleader. The Lennie sailed from the
Scheldt for New Orleans, and the captain, Hatfield, soon
foimd that he had an indift'erent, unseamanlike crew.
He " was greatly vexed, and often spoke to them roughly,
although no real acts of harshness occurred. But the ship
372 CRIMES OF THE HIGHWAYS.
had not been a week at sea before the crew rose, butchered
the captain and the mates, and compelled the steward, who
had some knowledge of navigation, to shape the vessel's course
towards the Mediterranean. He brought her, however, into
port, and secured the arrest of the mutineers, who were, mainly
on his evidence, convicted and hanged.
MARINE INSURANCE FRAUDS.
A whole class of seafaring crimes, destructive to property,
and calculated to endanger many lives, is comprised under
the head of marine insurance frauds. Many more or less
successful attempts to impose upon the underwriters of
Lloyd's and all those who take sea-risks have been perpetrated
from the earliest times. There was, no doubt, strong tempta-
tion to the dishonest person to insure a vessel, valuable in
herself and laden with still more valuable freight ; then, taking
advantage of the uncertainties of the sea, to cause her to
be purposely shipwrecked or cast away. The crime was
greatly stimulated by the long-prevailing vagueness and
inefficiency of the law. The courts constantly varied in their
decisions as to this class of fraud, demanding very distinct
proofs, often most difficult to obtain. The accused thus
escaped conviction frequently, and the offence greatly multi-
plied ; it was asserted that towards the close of last century
no less than one-third of the claims for losses made upon the
underwriters were " mixed with fraud " ; some were " gross
frauds," frauds of the most daring and reckless character.
Hence the underwriters banded themselves together to
prosecute vigorously, and use every effort to obtain evidence
that would be found valid in the courts. Their action was
strengthened by fresh penal enactments, but the private enter-
prise of the insurance brokers was still the most efficacious
method of checking the crime.
One of the earliest cases on record was that of a French
vessel, the Rachette, which, in 1786, sailed from London to
Rochelle. Both ship and cargo had been insured at Lloyd's,
the cargo being the property of a Mr. Hague. The Eachette
herself was owned by a Frenchman and sailed by a French
FRAUDULENT CASTING AWAY. 373
captain, so that the two combined to scuttle her. This having
failed, the cargo was sold on false bills of lading ; but before
the conspirators could divide the spoil they were arrested by
the French police and sent to the galleys. Mr. Hague now
sued the underwriters for the value of his policy on the cargo,
but they refused to pay. As it could not be shown that he
had any share in the fraud he got a verdict from a Guildhall
jury. The underwriters now appealed, and the case was
heard by Lord Mansfield, who made a famous ruling. The
great judge was of opinion that although a gross fraud had
undoubtedly been committed, for which the owner and captain
of the Rachette had been justly punished, their condemnation
did not affect the English poHcy, and that the underwriters,
not Mr. Hague, must suffer the loss.
THE "ADVENTURE."
Another case a few years later was the casting away of the
brig Adventwre by the noted 'Captain Codling,' a purely
English case, and very discreditable, for it showed that the
wilful sinking of ships had become a sort of business carried
on in the most barefaced manner as an ordinary mercantile
transaction. The owners of the Adventiire were two London
merchants, Mr. George Easterby and Mr. William Macfarlane,
-who insured their ship and her cargo for £5,000 at Lloyd's.
She was bound for Gibraltar and Leghorn, and was said to
carry a freight of cutlery, plated goods, watches and musical
instruments. Captain Codling, leaving the Thames on the
8th of July, 1802, took the brig first to Yarmouth, where he
laid in a further assortment of goods of the same class, and
on the strength of this the first insurances were doubled in
value. He was in no hurry to reach his destination ; he lay
with his ship for a week at Yarmouth, then sailed south as
far as Deal, after which he returned to Aldborough on the
Suffolk coast, then finally got to the Downs and anchored,
waiting a favourable wind. Some misgiving as to the fate in
store for her must have got abroad, for the super-cargo left
the Adventure at Yarmouth, and the mate went ashore at
Deal. Captain Codling replaced the latter by Thomas Cooper,
374 CRIMES OF THE SIGSWAYS.
an ordinary seaman from before the mast, although he pro-
tested that he knew nothing of navigation.
At last, on the 7th of August, just a month after leav-
ing the Thames, the Adventure proceeded on her voyage,
and next morning, about 7 a.m., she was abreast of Brighton.
Here the captain and his crew suddenly took to their boat.
Soon afterwards it was seen that the deserted Adventure
was in a sinking condition; but she still remained afloat,
and was towed in towards the shore by a revenue cruiser.
Two days later Lloyd's agent arrived at Brighton, a Captain
Robert Douglas, "a discreet person, and of experience in
matters of navigation." Captain Douglas found Codling
and his men comfortably settled at the Old Ship Inn,
where he desired them to stay, so that they might help
in the salvage of the brig. Next day the owners, Messrs.
Easterby and Macfarlane, also appeared on the scene, and
by their actions showed their guilty complicity in the fraud,
for they gave Codling money, and hurried him away
under an assumed name to London. Meanwhile Captain
Douglas, assisted by the Brighton hobblers, had beached
the brig, and then it was plainly seen how clumsily she
had been cast away. There was a large opening in the
planks on the port side, caused by a number of bored
holes; while a further examination inside exposed the very
instruments with which the holes had been made — a large
gimlet and a hatchet lying near the breach at the bottom
of the ship.
Lloyd's decided at once to commence a criminal prose-
cution. The owners, who had concealed themselves, were
discovered and arrested. Captain Codling had disappeared,
no one knew whither. Lloyd's agent, however, this same
Captain Douglas, was very clear sighted, very pertinacious in
pursuit — evidently a born detective. He had found amongst
Easterby's papers a letter from Codling, dated August 12th,
from London, in which the skipper said he was on the
point of starting for Harwich, where he hoped to get
passage to the Continent in packet, " bye-boat, or colHer."
Lloyd's agent hurried to Harwich, and on arrival found
CAPTAIN COBLING. 375
two packets on the point of departure. Captain Codling's
name was on the Hst of passengers of neither, but the
agent, proceeding on board with his warrant of arrest,
made diligent search through both ships, and at last found
Codling, tied up in a bundle of bedclothes, in one of the
berths. Cooper, the acting mate, was still wanted, but the
promise of a large reward, and the offer of pardon as king's
evidence, brought him out of hiding to be the chief instru-
ment in securing conviction. He had, in fact, been the
chief agent in the scuttling, and he told the story plainly
and simply : how Codling had desired him to go down to
the hold, "take up the scuttle hatch and bore holes with
an auger, close in the run, as near the bottom as possible."
These holes did not appear to be sufficient, and they were
enlarged, first with a spiked gimlet, and then with a hatchet,
and the brig was soon waterlogged.
This testimony sufficed to hang Captain Codhng ; but
the promoters of the whole fraud, Easterby and Macfarlane,
escaped on technical grounds. It was ruled that as they had
not been actually on board the Adventv/re, or anywhere
at sea when the crime was committed, the Court had no
jurisdiction over them, and they were eventually set free.
Yet it was well known that they had deliberately contrived
the whole plot, having bought the Adventmre on purpose
only a couple of months before she sailed, and it was proved
that they had already owned a brig called the William,,
which was strangely liable to accidents — in other words, was
often shipwrecked with the loss of her cargo.
The frauds upon underwriters were very numerous in
those times. One of the leading underwriters, Mr. Throck-
morton, in giving evidence before a Parliamentary Committee
in 1810, spoke of several. . . . The first he remembered was
on a ship called the Eagle. The instructions for insurance
came from Philadelphia, and the policy was taken out by an
American ; but it was fully proved afterwards that he knew
that the ship was already lost when he wrote the order
for the insurance. The next case was that of the Adven-
ture (just described). A third was that of a sloop proceeding
376 CRIMES OF THE HIGHWAYS.
from Dieppe, in France, to an English port which she never
reached ; she was supposed to carry a large freight of specie,
which was heavily insured, but was never put on board.
She was reported lost on the French coast, yet the very
morning after she had sailed the captain and crew were
seen at breakfast near Dieppe. A grave case was that of
a ship leaving Leghorn, said to be freighted with valuable
silks, but really loaded with brimstone. "In this case the
ship, insured against sea risk only, went to sea on a fine
morning, and was destroyed in the evening, the captain
and crew coming quietly on shore in their boats. Insurances
had been effected at a number of places — London, Liver-
pool, Marseilles, and, I believe, Manchester ; and, a claim
for total loss being made, the witnesses actually came here
to substantiate their claim, but they took wing the day
before the trial was to come on. There was another insur-
ance by the same parties, at nearly the same time, on another
risk of a similar kind, but against capture only. In this
instance the ship was taken and carried to Corsica in the
course of a few hours after she had left Leghorn, and,
though it was found to be a fraud, the discovery of it
came too late, as the money had been paid by the under-
writers." *
Extraordinary cleverness and no little daring were shown
in some of these insurance frauds. A ship from Boston,
the Hannah Mary, was purposely sunk after being insured
not only at Lloyd's in London, but in Bristol and at
Liverpool. The culprit was detected and taken up, when
he confessed that he had forged the bills of lading, the
invoices, and other documents, all of which were regularly
legalised by American stamps obtained for the purpose.
A most audacious case was that of a ship proceeding from
Gibraltar to Lisbon, during the French war, when she
became a prize to a cruiser just outside Gibraltar Bay,
and in full sight of the fortress. Special couriers were at
once dispatched to Lisbon, carrying four or five duplicate
orders for insurance, and these found their way to London
* Martin's " History of Uoyd's."
AUDACIOUS INSURANCE FRAUDS. 377
before the news of the capture of the ship. However, the
fraud was discovered in good time, and the policy was
not paid. Mr. Throckmorton quoted many other cases : —
The Aurora, bound to the Brazils from Lisbon, and burnt
by design in Madeira Roads ; the Philippa Harben, destroyed
at sea between New York and Belfast ; the Merry Andrew,
sunk in the King's Road, Bristol ; the Bordeaux Trader, which
sailed from Portsmouth on a Saturday morning and was
immediately captured just off the Isle of Wight. The
captain escaped, and, joining the owner at Portsmouth,
orders for insurance were sent up to London that Sunday
afternoon.
The improved laws and the unfailing activity of Lloyd's
no doubt helped to check insurance frauds in this country.
But they still flourished in the United States, and were
carried out in the most systematic manner. In 1840 a
fraternity of plunderers existed in New York who did a
very extensive business in such frauds. According to a
writer in Hunt's Mercantile Magazine, about that date,
"their usual plan has been to buy a vessel, part cash, part
credit, and then to get a merchant to advance money upon
her, and procure in his own name a policy of insurance for
a valuation exceeding by at least 50 per cent, her real cost.
Having got the advance, and with it another stretch of
credit, a cargo is procured, and this generally secures a
second advance of cash upon the cargo and freight, covered
by further policies of insurance. The advance on these last
policies pays the vessel's outfit, and repays the amount of
cash which they have advanced on her purchase. The rest
of the adventure is easily described. The vessel sails, is
burnt, scuttled, or otherwise cast away. Sometimes she is
dismasted by cutting the 'lee laniards of the lower stand-
ing rigging,' so that when they ' back ship ' she may lose
her masts without any apparent act of the master; and to
effect this, a dark night, and squally or rough weather, are
most convenient. In another case she is run ashore, and,
if she do not bilge, holes are bored to destroy her cargo
and make the vessel appear to be worthless. As an auxiliary
378 GRIMES OF THE HIGHWAYS.
to the bilging by boring, the masts are often cut away
under the pretence of making her 'he easy,' or to prevent
'thumping.' Cutting away the masts, when no holes are
bored, is practised where the stranding takes place within
the reach of wreckers who might save the vessel, and it
is done for the purpose of securing the right of condem-
nation, or with the desire to make any attempt at saving
useless, and not worth the expense.
"Holes have been bored in vessels and plugs fitted and
inserted, to be taken out at sea ; and arrangements have been
made with the captains of other vessels to keep company and
take off the captain and men when this was done. A ship
bound to New Orleans was purposely run in among the
Florida reefs, and, owing to the ignorance of the captain, she
became so situated as to require much perseverance on his
part to keep her in a dangerous situation, two good channels
being so open to him as to make it necessary to get help from
the wreckers, who came in sight, to find a bad one. He went
on board one of the wrecking vessels, and agreed that they
should give him one thousand dollars for the job of running
her ashore. The day was too bright and the wind too fair to
insure success, and the ship remained at anchor until a dark
night and a head wind afforded a more favourable oppor-
tunity. But, with these and all their combined skUl, she
came so near going through the channel safely as to render
it necessary to make her toss about for the space of two hours
to find a reef which was hard enough and sharp enough ; and
when they had with much patience selected the place, and
got a cable and anchor to heave her harder ashore, she would
not stay stranded with their best efforts, but floated over the
reef As daylight came they had to take her to Key West,
where, as the fraud was apparent, the judge of the Admiralty
Court refused to decree any salvage. The captain being
thus about to lose his 1,000 dollars, he consummated his
villainy by swearing for the wreckers that they ' acted in
good faith.' He then procured the condemnation and sale
of the ship." None of the stories which follow show greater
ingenuity or recklessness.
THE BROTHERS WALLACE. 379
LOSS OF THE "DRYAD."
Frauds upon underwriters and marine insurance offices can-
not be said to have ceased to this day. A story of the sea that
would serve as the foundation of an exciting sea romance is
to be found in the loss of the brig Dryad, in 1840. The plot
was cleverly laid, and proved perfectly successful for a time.
The ship was lost, the insurances paid ; the delinquents — two
brothers named Wallace, one a merchant, the other a sea
captain — might have enjoyed their ill-gotten gains to the end
but for the inconvenient return of some of the crew. Then
suspicions that had been only vague became certainty, and
one brother, Patrick Wallace, was forthwith arrested. The
other, Michael, who had been living in the Commercial Koad,
absconded, abandoning his house and furniture. He was
traced, in due course, to Lancaster, where he was taken.
Michael Wallace, on his own behalf, pleaded that he had
been led into the crime by the evil advice and example of a
City friend, who had made a very profitable business of such
frauds. Patrick Wallace put forward the same defence ; he had
become acquainted with a gentleman in Liverpool who had
made a fortune by bu3dng old ships on purpose to lose them
when fully insured. The brothers set about their fraud with
aU the skiU of old hands. Michael purchased the pre-
ponderating share in the brig Dryad — three-fourths, in fact,
£1,600 in all — and had expended another £600 in making
her "a first-class ship." Patrick Wallace took the part of
securing a complaisant ship-master, and found him in
Edmund Loose, who was appointed to the Dryad with the
clear understanding he should lose her somewhere, somehow,
the sooner the better.
While these essential preliminaries were being settled,
Michael Wallace sought out a merchant to ship a cargo, and
the Messrs. Zulueta chartered the Dryad to carry goods to
the value of £300 to Santa Cruz, in the West Indies. Heavy
insurances were next effected on the ship and the freight.
The owners got a policy for £2,200 from the Marine Insurance
on the first, and £300 on the latter. But the Wallaces
380 CRIMES OF THE HIGHWAYS.
insured the Dryad and her cargo further in other offices, and
these policies standing in their names amounted to £6,617,
a sum far exceeding their actual holding La the ship and
what she carried.
The chief testimony against the Wallaces was that of the
mate of the Dryad, who escaped the shipwreck, and who
described the whole proceeding. He described the lading of
the ship at Liverpool, and how, when Messrs. Zulueta's goods
were all on board, quite one-third of the hold remained un-
filled. Michael Wallace was to have shipped a consignment
of flannels, cloths, beef, pork, butter, and earthenware, but
never did so, although Captain Loose had signed bills of
lading as having received them. A suspicious circumstance
was the insufficient quantity of provisions sent for the crew.
It was usual to send enough for both outward and homeward
voyages, but barely enough for the first was provided. The
ship was also badly found. There was no proper log-line on
board ; the pump was never made to suck ; the long-boat
was fitted with tackle, and ready to launch at a moment's
notice. Nothing happened, as the weather continued " set fair,''
but they steered a strange course, northward, deviating from
the customary track, and first sighted land at Virgin Gorda,
and, holding on, ran close to the breakers off Anagada,
both of them rocky reefs on the outer fringe of the West
Indies.
The captain was called up from below, while the mate put
the ship's head about. But the captain, coming on deck,
seized the helm and ran her straight for the breakers. Now
the crew interposed, swearing they did not mean to lose their
lives for the captain's pleasure, whereupon he left the wheel,
and one of the crew taking it, put the ship's head round.
Two days the course was between the Silver Keys and the
north of St. Domingo, but so much too near the former,
which are dangerous rocks, that the Dryad struck upon one
of them, but again she escaped, this time with the loss
of her rudder. They then coasted along the coast of St.
Domingo, close in shore, and after passing Cape Hayti struck
on a reef at Cape Cruz. She might have been got off, for
THE CASE OF THE "SEVERN." 381
she was making no water, but no efibrts were made. The
crew with the captain deserted her, but not before one of
them had detected a large hole under her stern which could
not have been made by a rock, but was, no doubt, the captain's
work from one of the state-rooms. He was never brought to
trial, however, for he died before proceedings were taken.
Both the Wallaces were found guUy and sentenced " for life."
THE "SEVERN."
Five-and-twenty years later, Charles Webb, mate, with
Thomas Berwick and Lionel Holdsworth, owners, and Joseph
Dean, agent, were charged with the scuttHng of the Severn
She was a ship of 1,200 tons burden, Layland master,
and she sailed from Newport on the 15th May, 1866, on a
voyage to Shanghai, her cargo consisting principally of coals.
On the 14th of June following she was found to have sprung
a leak, and was making water so fast that the crew found it
necessary to abandon her, and to take to their boats, all of
which were picked up. Webb's boat was taken in to Per-
nambuco, the other boat to Rio de Janeiro, and all hands
were eventually sent to England. The case against Holds-
worth and Berwick was that they had originally purchased
the Severn for about £5,000 from one Sweet, but that,
wishing to conceal the fact of their ownership, they pro-
cured a person named Ward to act as the registered owner,
giving him £50 for so doing. This was part of a deeply-laid
scheme of fraud, the consummation of which was to be the
destruction of the vessel, so as to obtain the value of the
insurances at Lloyd's. The total amount for which policies
were effected was £17,000, whereas the ship and all the cargo
she contained were not worth more than £7,000 or £8,000.
At the time the vessel sprang the leak the weather was
perfectly calm, and there was nothing to account for such an
accident. Positive evidence was given by several of the crew
that after they had taken to the boats they distinctly saw
two large holes in the stern of the vessel ; these had evidently
been bored from the inside, as the splinters were forced out-
wards. There was also evidence that Webb was in his cabin,
382 OBIMEB OF TEE HIGSWAT8.
where he would have an opportunity of making these holes,
immediately before the leak was discovered,
Layland, the captain of the ship, said that he dined with
Berwick and Holdsworth at Newport before starting, and
they told him that Webb was put on board for a particular
purpose, and that he must not be interfered with ; at the
same time they expressed their opinion that the Severn would
never reach her destination, and that if this were realised
it would be £700 in the pocket of the captain. At the time
that the leak was sprung it was so evident that Webb
had a hand in it that the captain remonstrated with him ;
but Webb said it would be all right ; he had done the
same to the Jane Brown, another vessel in which he had
formerly sailed, and which had sunk at sea.
The ship left England in May; they encountered a gale
after passing Cape St. Vincent. A first leak was discovered.
It was not the only one. The crew were continually at the
pumps, even until within half an hour of their leaving her.
They were then in the "Trades,'' with perfect weather, yet
the ship filled fast, and the pumps made no impression. About
eight o'clock in the evening Webb said they had better get
the boats ready. Then the captain accused Webb of tamper-
ing with the ship, and he admitted he had bored a hole in the
skin, which he had tried to plug, but found it impossible to
stop the hole. The next morning the boats were got out and
the ship abandoned.
Holdsworth had packed twelve large cases with salt
(worth about £4) and sent them down to the ship at New-
port before she sailed, pretending that they were a valuable
consignment of firearms and swords, and this apparently was
the only cargo the Severn carried.
The log-book of the ship was kept by Webb. It was taken
to the British Consul at Pernambuco, but the captain next
saw it at Holdsworth's ofiice in Fenchurch Street. A few days
afterwards, when Layland was again at Holdsworth's office,
Holdsworth took out the log-book and asked the captain if
it would do. It was a new one. Holdsworth had said that
the log-book would not do, as it had been tampered with, and
AN INDIAN OASE. 383
Webb said he would get a new one and copy it out. And
the captain afterwards saw Webb turning down and soiling
the leaves. Holdsworth gave the captain £10 per month until
the policies should be settled.
The chief actor in this fraud was sentenced to ten years'
penal servitude, and I remember well that when he was under-
going his term in the convict prison of Gibraltar (he was cox-
swain of my gig) he never admitted, always positively denied
his guilt to me ; but it seems to have been very clearly proved.
THE "AURORA."
One of the most flagrant frauds against underwriters
was perpetrated in the burning of the ship Aurora, which
left Bombay in June, 1870, laden with a cargo of cotton
heavily insured. Rumours of foul play had got abroad before
the ship weighed anchor, and the underwriters would have
had her stopped, but the poHce were just too late to catch
her. Within a few miles of port she was utterly destroyed by
fire. Suspicion now grew into certainty but stiU there were no
positive proofs. The Bombay poHce were actively pursuing
inquiries, when one Soonderji Shamji, a native broker who
had chartered the ship, came forward and volunteered to tell
all he knew. The captain of the Aurora, who with his crew
had been saved from the burning ship, also confessed that he
had been engaged to scuttle the ship, but found it easier to
have her burnt.
Two Bombay brokers were the authors of this plot, Messrs.
Elmstone and Whitewell, Englishmen, who, when tried and
sentenced, were severely censured by the judge for having
disgraced their race and name before the whole East by their
criminal conspiracy. The plan was simple enough ; it was to
get advances from the banks on bills of lading signed, con-
trary to law, by the captain before the goods were shipped. A
certain amount of cargo was, however, to be put on board, 100
bales, purporting to be of good sound cotton, whereas the
stuff was the bazaar refuse known as " droppings." On this
spurious cargo, and on the ship itself, the brokers effected
large insurances with the underwriters, so that on the whole
384 CRIMES OF THE HIGHWAYS.
a vast profit was expected from the destruction of the
Aurora, if it could be accomplished.
For this it was first necessary to seduce the captain, Harriott,
which does not appear to have been a very difficult task. He
was bought for the sum of £1,000, and as he could not work
alone, £600 was also promised to Marks, the carpenter, who
readily fell in with the scheme. As Mr. Whitewell, the
tempter, put it, " This was a chance that happens but once in
a man's life." There was a fortune in it, he said, and the weak
fools readily agreed. Marks was to follow the usual methods
in such frauds — to bore holes in the bottom ; but, as he after-
wards confessed, " the idea suddenly occurred to me that I
could set fire to the ship. On the impulse of the moment I
struck a match, lighted a bit of oakum, and threw it inside the
lazarette, where some turpentine had been spilt, purposely, on
the deck." Marks then shut the door of the lazarette and an ex-
plosion was heard within, and the whole ship was soon in flames.
When brought to trial all the prisoners were convicted ; the
two brokers got " life," Harriott fifteen, and Marks ten years.
This Aurora case is not the only one of its kind recorded
in the criminal annals of Bombay. A wealthy native mer-
chant, Aloo Paroo, was in 1844 sentenced to transportation for
life for having conspired to cast away the ship Belvedere on
the voyage between Bombay and China. Other frauds on
underwriters had also been perpetrated about the time of the
loss of the Aurora. A well-known and prominent Bombay
merchant, ELarsondas Madhowdas, was detected in conspiring
to defraud a bank by producing bills of lading for 1,000 bales
of cotton shipped on board the Theresa, when as a fact not a
single bale had been put on board. There was a cargo in the
hold of the Theresa, but only of putrefying rubbish, which
" stank so horribly " that the surveyors, sent by the under-
writers to verify the cotton, could not remain below.
Suspicion also fell upon another ship, the Greyhound, but
the captain absconded before any fraud could be proved.
Again, three Bhattiahs were arrested for having shipped
rubbish instead of cotton, and defrauding certain merchants
of £1,380 by this means.
THE CASE OF THE "CLIPPER." 385
THE "CLIPPER."
The loss of the Clipper was as clumsily contrived as that
of the old Adventure, nearly a century earlier. On the 9th
March, 1858, she sailed from London for Newport to take in
a cargo of coal, but when anchored oflf Dungeness one morning
she was found to be in a sinking condition, and soon after-
wards foundered. The captain, Lakey by name, and crew took
to the long-boat and got safely ashore, and by-and-by the
former put in his claim for the policies. He had insured his
own effects for £150, an unusually large amount for a man in
his position, and the vessel had been insured for £800. Suspicion
was aroused and the agent from Lloyd's was sent to raise her.
When they got her into port and laid her up partly dry, it
was discovered that the ballast port, which should have been
secured, had been left open ; more, a hole two inches square
had been cut with a chisel in the starboard quarter of the
ship's run ; yet again there were two auger holes about an inch
in diameter in her side, and a third not quite cut through.
Otherwise the Clipper was water-tight, and when the holes
were plugged she was towed in to Dover.
Lakey, it was proved, had bored the holes himself with the
assistance of the cook. The mate saw them at work and
heard the skipper give orders to knock out the ballast port,
saying the ship was bound to be a coffin some day, and it was
better she should sink at once. He was part owner, having
succeeded the last skipper and brought the ship home on her
previous voyage, when he bought an eighth share. An inde-
pendent witness, master of a lugger at Dungeness, deposed
that he had gone on board the Clipper the evening before she
sank, thinking there was something amiss with her. He saw
that she Avas heeled over, chiefly because the chain-cable was
lumped in a heap upon her starboard quarter; the main
hold was half full of water, yet the pumps were not rigged,
and the crew stood idle about the deck. Lakey declined
the skipper's help.
The case was brought home to the culprit, who was
sentenced to three years' penal servitude.
CHAPTER XVI.
ROBBERIES BY THE WAY AND RAILWAY CRIMES.
The Gold-Dust Robbery from the London Docks — The Gaspers and " Money "
Moses — Bullion Robbery on South Eastern Railway — Belgian MaU Robbery
— MoCalla's Clever Robbery of the Union Express Company on the
Alleghany Railroad^The St. Louis Express Robbery — Extraordinary
Story of Detection — Railway Murders : of Mr. Briggs by MiiUer— Jud —
of Mr. Gould by Lefroy— of M. Bareme.
THE GREAT GOLD-DUST ROBBERY.
The transmission of bullion was at one time a constant
temptation to the dishonest, just as nowadays the trans-
mission of diamonds and other precious stones has called
into existence a new class of robbery. One of the most
daring, and for a time thoroughly successful, cases of stealing
gold was in the abstraction of two boxes of gold-dust from the
London Docks in March, 1839. This precious consignment
had reached England from South America on the 18th of that
month ; it had been brought home by H.M.S. Seagull, from
which it had been landed at Falmouth, to be forwarded to
London by sea. The two boxes were put on board the City
of Limerick steamer and landed at St. Katherine's Dock,
London, on the 25th of March. That morning the agents of
the Dubhn Steam Navigation Company received a letter from
Messrs. Carne and Co., of Falmouth, informing them that a
quantity of gold-dust would be landed at their wharf from
the City of Limsrick, and begging them to hand the same
over to a person who would call at their office, armed with
the necessary credentials. That same afternoon a man
drove up to the door to claim the boxes; he described the
marks upon them and gave other seemingly satisfactory
proofs of his good faith. His right to the boxes was not con-
tested, and, when he had paid the wharfage dues, he was
permitted to load them upon a cab and drive away.
Not long afterwards a representative of the real owners,
TBE GREAT GOLD-DUST ROBBERY. 387
to whom, in fact, the boxes had been consigned, arrived at
the Dubhn Navigation Office and demanded the boxes. He
also produced vouchers which were obviously authentic, and
the fraud was thus discovered. It was a serious matter for the
Dublin Company, upon whom, of course, the loss would fall,
and two special police officers, Messrs. Lea and Koe, were
commissioned to follow up the thieves. They soon discovered
the cab in which the gold had been removed, and questioned
its driver, who remembered no more of the circumstance than
that he had been hired in Cheapside, had proceeded to the
wharf, and then to Wood Street, where his employer changed
cabs and drove off in the other towards Holborn. This was
but vague information ; but the police continued their search,
and at last traced the thief to New Street, London Hospital.
Again there was a break, for the man had left New Street
and moved to Mansel Street, Goodman's Fields, and again
had left that address, going no one knew whither. But now
it was ascertained that the man in question was one Moss
a watchmaker, who was on intimate terms with a clerk
in the office of the Dublin Steam Navigation Company, by
name Casper. This Casper had a confidential post, and it
was he who had opened the letter from Messrs. Came & Co.,
of Falmouth, which had brought about the mistaken sur-
render of the gold. Moss was also on friendly terms with
Casper's father, and had been seen in close conversation
with him on the morning of the robbery. Other suspicious
facts came out against Moss. He had left home on the
morning of the robbery dressed in his best clothes, an un-
usual thing with him ; he had come home in the evening
in a cab, bringing two boxes with him very similar to those
which had contained the gold dust ; his servant had found
in the grate of his room the burnt fragments of the boxes,
and the next morning Moss and his wife had disappeared.
The Caspers were taken into custody, but Moss as yet
could not be found.
Meanwhile other useful information had been obtained.
Certain bullion dealers in Cheapside had purchased a
quantity of bar gold from a gold refiner named Solomons,
388 BOBBERIES B7 THE WAT AND RAILWAY CRIMES.
soon after the robbery. Solomons was brought up at the
pohce office, when he admitted that he had sold £1,200 worth
of gold as stated, but he pretended that it was the product
of a number of old snuff-boxes and other gold plate which
he had melted down in the usual way of business. When
further pressed he declined to answer, and left court under
considerable suspicion. Next time he appeared it was as
a prisoner, charged as a confederate of the Gaspers, and
the case began to look black against them all. For Moss
had given himself up, and was now brought into court as
a witness and approver. Solomons was anxious to do the
same, and later was also admitted as a witness. On the
joint testimony of Solomons and Moss two new prisoners
were arrested — a man, Emmanuel Moses, commonly known
as " Money " Moses, a notorious " fence," or receiver of stolen
goods, and with him his daughter, Alice Abrahams, a widow.
The case against the two last named was that they had sold
a quantity of gold dust to Solomons, who must have been
aware that it had been improperly obtained, for he promised
in melting it down to throw in a portion of copper and
silver so as to change its character and prevent identification.
The case was clearly proved against the Gaspers, with
whom the scheme no doubt originated. They had ap-
proached Moss and begged him, As a favour, to remove the
boxes from the wharf when landed. Moss appears to have
been well aware that he was engaged in a robbery, and he
detailed at considerable length the precautions he had taken
to get the boxes home without being observed. Moss seems
also to have been quite ready to appropriate the whole of
the gold dust to himself, but the Gaspers hung about him
and prevented any foul play; indeed, a point most clear in
the whole of this nefarious transaction was the effort made
by aU parties to "jew" each other. Moss was to have been
paid a percentage, and he was defrauded by Moses and his
daughter declaring that they had got a much smaller price
than was expected; Mrs. Abrahams had cheated her father
by keeping for herself a lot of loose dust deposited in her
pockets when she carried the gold to Solomons ; Solomons
A JEW CONSPIRACY. 389
defrauded them all by retaining £1,800 worth of dust in
his own possession and refusing to surrender it on account
of the stir made about the robbery.
At the end of the trial, when all the parties were con-
victed, Ellis Casper and Moses were sentenced to fourteen
years' transportation, Lewin Casper to seven years, and
Alice Abrahams to four months. Solomons seems to have
escaped, and Moss was let off with twenty-four hours' im-
prisonment at Newgate in consideration of his testimony.
A few words here as to this " Money " Moses, a man at
one time well known in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden.
He was the landlord of the Black Lion public-house in
Vinegar Yard, Drury Lane, where he carried on a most ex-
tensive and almost unblushing business of fence. It rami-
fied through every class, including the purchase of every
kind of stolen goods, and, when he was finally convicted,
great surprise was expressed that he should have carried
on his trade so long unchecked. He appears to have been
closely concerned with Ikey Solomons, another notorious
receiver of stolen goods.
BULLION ROBBERY ON SOUTH EASTERN RAILWAY.
Years afterwards the regular transmission of bullion by rail
from London to the Continent tempted certain professional
thieves to make a bold stroke for a fortune by robbing the gold
van on a South Eastern train. The idea was first conceived by
one Pierce, who had been mixed up with several frauds, and
was at the moment clerk in a betting office. He put the
matter before a "professional" friend. Agar, a noted and
successful thief, who saw that the scheme contained the
elements of success if they could suborn some of the em-
ployes of the line. They therefore sounded one of the
guards, Burgess, who was often in charge of trains conveying
bullion. He soon fell in with the plot and detailed the
method of transmission. The gold was sent in the guard's
van, packed in one or mor6 iron-bound boxes, each of which
was deposited in a safe with a Chubb lock. The safes had two
locks, and of course two keys, common to all. These two keys
390 ROBBEBIES BY 'ISE WAY AND RAILWAY CRIMES.
were in triplicate, and were held by the confidential offi cers of the
Company — one pair by the trafiic superintendent in London,
another by the head of the Folkestone railway office, a third
by the skipper of the Folkestone-Boulogne boat. Beyond the
Channel the French railway authorities became responsible.
As the booty was carried in the guard's van it was clear
that the robbery might easily be effected when Burgess was
on diity as guard, if only the safes could be opened. This
pointed to the necessity for obtaining false keys, and first of
all of getting wax impressions of the real keys. The assist-
ance of another railway official was indispensable, and he was
Ibund by Burgess in one Tester, a clerk in the traffic depart-
ment at London Bridge. There were occasions, Tester
reported, when the safes were sent to Chubb's for repair, and
then one key was sent with them. This key might be im-
pounded for a few moments, enough to take an impression in
wax, and this Tester adroitly managed without detection.
But the safes had each the second key which was not sent to
Chubb's (they had their own), and this second key was never
within Tester's reach. One of these second keys was, how-
ever, kept in the Folkestone office rather carelessly, as the
conspirators — Agar and Pierce — ascertained, after hanging
about this office for weeks on the watch. It hung in a cup-
board not always locked, and one day Pierce stepped boldly in
when the office was empty, seized the key, passed it to Agar,
who took the impression, returned the key to Pierce, who put
it back in its place, and left the office altogether unobserved.
All was ready for the cov/p. The thieves only awaited the
news that a consignment of bullion was to be despatched, and
it was the business of Tester, who had the run of the Com-
pany's books, to obtain this information. Meanwhile the
others completed their preparations with the utmost care. A
weight of shot was brought and stowed in carpet bags, ready
to replace exactly the abstracted gold. Courier bags were
bought to carry the " stuff," slung over the shoulders ; and,
last, but not least. Agar frequently travelled up and down
the line to test the false keys he had manufactured with
Pierce's assistance — they were common to all the
REAL KEYS AND FALSE KEYS. 391
Burgess admitted him into the guard's van, where
he fitted and filed the keys till they worked easily and
satisfactorily in the locks of the safe. One night Tester
whispered to Agar and Pierce, " All right," as they cautiously
lounged about London Bridge. The thieves took first-class
tickets, handed their bags full of shot to the porters, who
placed them in the guard's van. Just as the train was
starting Agar slipped into the van with Burgess, while Pierce
got into a first-class carriage. Agar at once got to work on
the first safe, opened it, took out and broke into the bullion
box, removed the gold, substituted the shot from the carpet
bag, refastened and resealed the bullion box, and replaced it
in the safe. At Redhill, Tester met the train and relieved the
thieves of a portion of the stolen gold. At the same station
Pierce joined Agar in the guard's van, and there were now
three to carry on the robbery. The two remaining safes were
attacked and nearly entirely despoiled in the same way as the
first, and the contents transferred to the courier bags. The
train was now approaching Folkestone, and Agar and Pierce
hid themselves in a dark part of the van. At that station the
safes were given out, heavy with shot, not gold ; the thieves
went on to Dover, with Ostend tickets previously procured,
returned to London without mishap, and by degrees disposed
of much of the stolen gold.
The theft was discovered at Boulogne, when the boxes
were not found to weigh exactly what they ought. But no
clue was obtained to the thieves, and the theft might have
remained a mystery but for the subsequent bad faith of Pierce
to his accomplice Agar. . The latter was ere long arrested on
a charge of uttering forged cheques, convicted and sentenced
to transportation for Ufe. When he knew that he could not
escape his fate, he handed over to Pierce a sum of £3,000, his
own, whether rightly or wrongly acquired never came out,
together with the unrealised part of the bullion, amounting in
all to some £15,000, and begged his accomplice to invest it
as a settlement on a woman named Kay, by whom he had
had a chUd. Pierce made Kay only a few small payments,
then appropriated the rest of the money. Kay, who had
392 BOBBERIES BY THE WAT AND RAILWAY GRIMES.
been living with Agar at the time of the bullion robbery,
went to the police in great fury and distress and disclosed
aR she knew of the affair. Agar, too, in Newgate, heard how
Pierce had treated him, and at once readily turned approver.
As the evidence he gave incriminated Pierce, Burgess, and
Tester, all three were arrested and committed to Newgate
for trial. The whole strange story, the long incubation and
elaborate accomplishment of the plot, came out at the
Old BaUey, and was acknowledged to be one of the most
extraordinary on record.
BELGIAN MAIL ROBBERY.
One of the most serious of recent mail-train robberies
occurred between Ostend and Brussels in November, 1886.
When the express carrying the English mails for Germany
reached Verviers on Saturday morning, the 27th of November,
it was found that the post-office van had been rifled. This
van had left Ostend at half-past three that morning ; it was
locked with a padlock and chain — a new method of security
which had replaced the old practice of merely sealing the
doors. When the train passed through Brussels an official
had noticed, from the platform, that this padlock and chain
were not of the regulation pattern, but had said nothing.
When the train reached Verviers, the frontier, the post-office
authorities, who were charged with the transfer of the mail
bags from the Belgian to the German line, made the same
discovery. The proper chain and padlock had been removed
during the night and another similar in appearance substi-
tuted. They then entered the van and found that it had
been ransacked. Out of a total of ninety leathern mail-bags
twenty-two had been cut open, evidently with a sharp knife,
and their contents rifled. The interior of the van was in a
state of extraordinary confusion ; letters and parcels were
thrown about pell-mell, no doubt just as they had been
examined by the thieves, who were in search only of the
registered letters and parcels. The mail was a particularly
heavy one. The night of the robbery had been, no doubt,
specially chosen as that on which the New York bags passed
MAIL TRAIN BOBBED. 393
from England on their way to Germany. Moreover, on this
occasion, as, no doubt, the thieves were aware, a rich consign-
ment of diamonds, forty-one parcels of them, were in transit
from New York to Alexandrovst, in Russia; while a large
amount of letters of credit and sums in cash were being
forwarded by English bankers to their representatives abroad.
It was calculated that the whole value of the booty abstracted
amounted to forty or iifty thousand pounds.
The police were of course set in motion at once, and
their inquiries were concentrated in particular upon three
individuals who took tickets at Dover for Malines the pre-
vious night. One of these was a tall man of about forty,
wearing a grey overcoat and a felt wide-awake. He was
fair and had a short light beard, spoke French badly, and
travelled second class. The second was a man of fifty, also
tail and growing grey; the third, dark and short. It was
remarked at Ostend that these three travellers showed ex-
treme eagerness to take their seats in the composite car-
riage, which was last but one in the train, the last being
the mad van. One of the guards declared that they ran
like hares from the steamboat to the platform and jumped
straight into the carriage. There were, however, five
travellers in that compartment in all — confederates, no
doubt — one of whom, it was ascertained beyond doubt, was
travelling without a ticket and had only joined the train
at Ostend. These confederates had, of course, been charged
with the business of ascertaining the exact position of the mail
van. There was very little doubt that the five passengers
left the train at Brussels, and this fixed the place of
robbery as somewhere between Ostend and Brussels. Two
of the thieves left the Brussels station by the door opening
on to the Rue de Brabant, and the remaining three by that
on the Place Rogier. It was supposed that all had left
Brussels the same day, three for Calais and two for Paris
and the South.
The credit of picking up these thieves rests with the
London police, who soon traced their movements. Three of
them had gone straight to Calais — two crossed to Dover at
394 ROBBERIES BY THE WAY AND RAILWAY CHIMES.
once, the third followed next day. The two others, who had
left the Gare du Nord at Brussels by the door leading into
the Rue de Brabant, remained in that city a couple of days,
then proceeded also to London. The thieves now devoted
themselves to getting rid of some of their plunder, and
three of them were found to have visited the more impor-
tant receivers of stolen goods, offering rough diamonds for
sale. There could be no doubt of their identity, for they
were well-known criminals, all Englishmen, whose photo-
graphs were at Scotland Yard, and these portraits, when
sent over to Belgium, were immediately recognised by the
guards and ticket-collectors who had seen the thieves on
the line. There was, however, a technical difficulty regard-
ing their arrest, and although they were constantly shadowed
they were never taken into custody, or brought to account
for their crime. It was generally supposed that the notorious
American bank robbers, Sheridan and Max Shinbum, were
associated with, if not the prime movers in, this crime.
mccalla's fraud.
Ingenuity was adopted by railway thieves when open
force was no longer possible, or likely to fail. A clever
robbery was effected in 1877 by one McCaUa, from the
Union Express Company, of which he pretended to be an
employe. His astuteness was no less remarkable than the
patient skill with which his discovery and capture was
brought about by the detectives.
McCalla began his fraud at a lonely point upon the Alle-
ghany railroad, somewhere between Kittanning and Cowan-
shannock. The line ran there beneath high banks where land-
slides were frequent and boulders often rolled on to the perma-
nent way. To prevent accidents and give needful warning,
watchmen were stationed at regular intervals along the
route, and were housed against the elements in small box-
sheds. McCalla selected one of these, and told the watch-
man he was an inspector examining the wires. No objection
was made to his mounting one of the telegraph poles, and
he soon cut the wire he wanted, that from Pittsburg, dropped
THE UNION EXPRESS BOBBED. 395
the end to the ground, and connected it with a pocket in-
strument he had brought with him. He was now in com-
mand of the whole line, having the power to wire down it,
as from Pittsburg, and to intercept all messages to Pitts-
burg going up.
His first message was to a station called Brady's Bend,
inquiring the name of the express messenger in charge of
the safe and valuables on the up train. He signed this in the
name of the express superintendent, George Bingham, at
Pittsburg. The answer came that it was another Bingham,
brother to the superintendent. McCalla then flashed an
order to this second Bingham to look out for a new mes-
senger, by name J. G. Brooks, who would meet him at
Templeton, en route, to whom he was to turn over his
cash and valuables, taking a receipt for the same, and return
whence he came, Parkersburg, where he was to report
to a superior who "wished to see him on an important
matter." Messenger Bingham replied to his brother acknow-
ledging his instructions, but that answer never got beyond
McCalla, who, having thus laid his plans, left the place, to
walk across country to Templeton. He was, however, in-
cautious enough to leave his pocket instrument on the line,
where it was afterwards found, and became a most damaging
clue to his identity.
Bingham with his train duly reached Templeton, and
there handed over his charge to the man purporting to
be Brooks, who was, of course, McCalla. The latter, on
assuming the duty of expressman, proceeded to act as
though he had long been used to the business, delivering
and receiving parcels and boxes all along the road with
great precision. On arriving at Pittsburg his safe, as usual,
was hoisted on to the express waggon, to be conveyed through
the streets to headquarters. McCalla sat on top of the safe
and was driven with it as far as the City Hall. There, to
the surprise of the hackman, he jumped off and quickly
disappeared. The safe was lodged in the ofiice, but,
in the absence of the new messenger with the keys, was
left unopened till eleven p.m. Then it was forced by
396 ROBBERIES BY THE WAY AND RAILWAY CRIMES.
the superintendent Bingham, and was found to have been
rifled.
So much for the crime. Now for the pursuit, which
was entrusted to the chief of the Missouri-Pacific Kailway
Secret Service, a Mr. Thomas Furlong. Accompanied by
an assistant named Cupples, he took up the trail at Temple-
ton. Here there had been once some active business owing to
the blast furnaces, latterly shut down, but now few passengers
got in and out of the train. Strange to say, no one had
been seen to board it on the day that the bogus messenger
supplanted the real one. The stationmaster and his wife
could give no information, but a child of theirs had seen
a man on a log hard by, who was engaged in tearing up
a piece of paper and scattering the fragments around. On
examining the spot a number of these were found and
picked up by the detectives, who took them to Pittsburg
and spent a night in joining them together. They also
obtained from the child a description of the man's appear-
ance, enough to secure identification.
The torn paper proved to be a blank cheque on the
bank of CarHsle. Its attempted destruction was, no doubt
to sever all connection with that town, to which place the
detectives at once guessed their man belonged. They pro-
ceeded thither, and went first to the telegraph office to
inquire for him, entering into talk with the operator, to
whom they gave his description. " You must mean McCalla,''
the youth answered readily. "Will McCalla, who used to
live over yonder with his brother George. Will has gone
down Texas way, where he is doing right weU as an operator
and express agent." " Ha ! " said the detective, " is that
so ? Then if Will McCalla has taken to telegraphy he would
like to have a pocket instrument. I've been wishing to
make him a present." This was one of those lucky shots
that so often befriend the successful detective. " The very
thing," answered the telegraph clerk. " I know Will McCalla
wants just such a thing. He asked me not long ago to
recommend a good maker, and I gave him an address.
Here it is."
TEE ST. LOUIS EXPRESS. 397
The address was identically the same as that on the
instrument which McCalla had left on the line when he had
tapped the Pittsburg wire. Here was sufiScient evidence
to connect him with the robbery, and the case would be
complete if only he could be found. The detectives pro-
ceeded with all speed to Palmer, Texas, where McCalla was
reported to be in a good position. But he had falsified his
accounts, and had bolted to Atlanta City. The pursuers
followed and would have run into him there, but he was
warned in time and again escaped. From Atlanta the
chase proceeded first to Savannah, then to Lake City, then
Key West, and at last to Havannah in Cuba. But he agara
made oiF and sailed for Rio Janeiro. The detectives would
have still followed, but were recalled to Pittsburg by the
great railroad riots of July, 1877. Will McCalla was thus
left to his own devices, and, as a matter of fact, was never
arrested. His brother George was, however, taken, but
died before trial.
THE ST. LOUIS EXPRESS ROBBERY.
A great robbery, on the lines of McCalla's, just described,
was committed on the St. Louis and San Francisco Railway
on the night of October 25th, 1884. When the train
reached Pacific Junction, thirty-six miles from St. Louis,
it was found that the safes ia the Adams Express coach
had been forced and rifled. The robbery amounted to
£16,000 in cash, with valuables and papers. The express
agent, Fotheringham by name, was discovered in a corner
of the coach, gagged and bound. The story he gave was
that just before their departure from St. Louis a man ap-
peared with a letter of introduction. This letter was written
on the Adams Express Company's official paper, and was
sent by the head agent at St. Louis; it was to the eftect
that the bearer was to be shortly taken into the service of
the Company, and that they had sent him to Fothering-
ham to have an opportunity of learning his business. On
this, Fotheringham admitted him into the coach, and the
train started. But it was barely outside the city before the
398 BOBBERIES BY THE WAY AND RAILWAY OBIMES.
stranger drew a revolver and overawed the agent, whom he
secured and made fast as he was found. Then he took the safe
keys from the agent's pocket and thus got possession of
the contents of the safe. Shortly before reaching Pacific
Junction, the robber left the train.
A number of detectives belonging to Pinkerton's agency
were at once put upon the case. They began their search
at Pacific Junction and closely examined all the waggon
roads leaving that place, seeking some clue of the robber.
At the same time they went through the Express Com-
pany's records to find if any agents had been recently dis-
charged from their service. The first suspicious fact elicited
was that some nine months previously a man named Haight
had been dismissed on suspicion of theft, and that he had
been at one time on the same road as Fotheringham. Haight
was now traced from place to place, and was found ultimately
at Chicago, where he had been employed as a waggon driver
by one Frederick Witrock, who kept a coal yard. About
this time, barely a week since the robbery, the first of a
series of letters appeared in a St. Louis paper, the Globe
Democrat. The first letter had been posted at St. Joseph,
not far from Kansas City, on the western border of Mis-
souri The object of this letter was to exonerate Fother-
ingham, and in proof thereof the writer said that a package
lying at the left property office of the St. Louis railway
station contained things bearing on the case. The parcel
was seized and examined, but was found to contain no
more than a few shirts, some manuscript songs not in the
handwriting of the letter, and a printed ballad. AU these
articles were carefully inspected, the songs and the ballad
under the microscope. By this means the detectives came
upon another important clue ; it was found that, in the corner
of the ballad, an address had been written, apparently in
the same handwriting as the letter. This address was
number 2,108, Chestnut Street, St. Louis, and the detectives
at once called there to prosecute inquiries. The woman of
the house met them frankly, and from her they learned that
two men had lodged with her from the 18th October, but
DETECTIVES ON TRE TRAIL. 399
that, three nights before the robbery on the line, one of
them had gone by train to Kansas City, and the night
following the second had also left; he was carrying a
valise at the time. The woman gave a full description of
the personal appearance of both men.
Another clue was found in this house in Chestnut Street :
a medicine bottle, bearing the label of a chemist's shop hard
by, and the name of a prominent physician in St. Louis.
Both the chemist and the doctor were visited, and both
described their patients in terms exactly corresponding to
those of the landlady. Moreover, it was found that one of
the shirts in the package above-mentioned was stained with
marks from the substance which the medicine bottle had con-
tained. The inquiry had now reached a stage when it was
seen that the two men who had lodged in Chestnut Street were
the persons described in the anonymous letter, and that their
movements immediately antecedent to the railway robbery
were very suspicious. It went a step further now, for an
engine driver on that line, having seen the letter in the
Globe BeTnocrat, came forward with information — a fact that
had come under his own observation on the very night of the
robbery. This man had been standing on the track, close by
Fotheringham's train, and he saw someone, just as it was
starting, hurry along the line and jump into the Express
coach. The messenger — Fotheringham, that is to say — was
there awaiting him, seemingly ; in any case, he helped him to
climb into the coach. This pointed clearly to Fotheringham's
complicity, and the story became more significant when it
was known that the new-comer carried a valise precisely
similar to that described by the landlady. To these items
another of value was soon added — namely, that on the Friday
night, three nights before the robbery, a man had travelled
with Fotheringham in his Express coach, who answered to
the description of one of the men in Chestnut Street, and the
inference was that he had made the journey in order to
become acquainted with the road.
Another party of detectives had meanwhile been on the
track of Haight, the discharged expressman working in
400 BOBBERIES BY TEE WAY AND RAILWAY GRIMES.
Chicago. It was ascertained that he had been in very
poor circumstances, earning small wages, until two or three
days after the robbery. Then about October 27th he appeared
very flush of money, and left almost immediately for Florida,
in the south, whither his wife soon followed him.
As everything connected with Haight was of importance,
the character and history of his employer, Witrock, were
now investigated, and it was found that he had come from
Leavenworth, in Kansas, to which place Haight had also
belonged. Witrock was absent from Chicago at this time,
but his description was obtained, and it was very much
that of the man with the valise, of whom the St. Louis
landlady had spoken. Specimens of Witrock's handwriting
were obtained, which was pronounced by an expert to be very
similar to that of the letter sent to the Globe Democrat. By
this time other letters of similar import had been received by
that newspaper, posted from various parts of the country, all
of them tending to exonerate Fotheringham. These letters
were obviously from the pen of one conversant with aU the
details, but it was difficult to believe that the writer could be
so stupid as to attract attention to himself if he were really
one of the guilty parties. Nevertheless, it came out after-
wards that they were written by Witrock in the vain hope of
covering his tracks, although they had the very contrary
effect. Thus Witrock went out of his way to say that after
the robbery the thief had gained the Missouri river, not far
from Pacific Junction, and had floated down it on a skiff
which he had obtained at St. Charles. Inquiries made at
St. Charles showed that two men had embarked there in a
boat, with provisions, but that they had gone up stream, and
that, of the two men, one answered to the description of
Witrock and the other of a man named Weaver, who kept a
laundry close by Witrock's colliery. But for the information
thus afforded, nothing of this would have been known.
A still more damaging clue was obtained. It should
have been stated above that when the lodging in Chestnut
Street, St. Louis, was searched, an Express tag had been
found on which was a small green waxen seal. The seal
DAMAGING GLUES. 401
was the same as that on the letter sent to the Globe BeTnocrat,
and the tag, after much difficulty, was deciphered as one
which had been attached to a valise sent by express to St.
Louis from St. Charles. This valise had been in the posses-
sion of one of the men who had gone up the river in a boat.
The case was now pretty complete, and the police were in
a position to lay their hands upon all the conspirators except
Witrock. Weaver had been identified by the St. Louis land-
lady as one of the men who had stopped at her house. Haight
had been traced to Kansas City, and was under surveillance
there ; the detectives had ascertained beyond question that he
had planned the robbery and had greatly helped its execu-
tion. It was he who had had the bogus letter-paper of the
Company prepared, and he had written to the superintending
agent at St. Louis on some pretext, so as to obtain this
official's signature. Another man connected with the case
was found in Kansas City, one Oscar Cooke, an old friend and
fellow-townsman of Witrock's, who appeared to be very flush
of money in the latter end of October, and who had made
many journeys to and fro between Chicago and Kansas. All
this time a watch was kept upon Witrock's house, and upon
Kinney, his brother-in-law, who was managing his coal
business for him during his absence. But for weeks Witrock
remained absent. At last, the man Kinney, having left
Chicago for Quincey, Illinois, there received a telegram signed
Rose W^itrock, which came into the detective's hands, and
which announced Witrock's return to Chicago. The house
there was still kept closed, with blinds carefully drawn, but
there were lights within, and the watch was never relaxed
until one morning a party of four came cautiously out and
made for a neighbouring restaurant. AU of them were
promptly arrested, and one proved to be Witrock. He fought
hard against arrest, using his revolver, but the whole party
was overpowered and carried off to the police-station. Con-
siderable sums of money were found on all of them, and when
Mrs. Witrock was also taken, money and valuables, including
a fine diamond, were found sewn up in her dress.
It appeared, on the trial, that Haight had first conceived
402 BOBBERIES BY TEE WAY AND RAILWAY CRIMES.
the idea of the robbery, and had then persuaded Witrock to
join. It was Witrock who had boarded the train and had
actually secured the plunder. Cooke was employed as the
go-between, to divide the shares amongst the conspirators;
he had been charged also with the distribution of the letters
for the Globe Democrat. Fotheringham's complicity, although
strongly suspected, does not seem to have been proved.
RAILWAY MURDERS.
Peculiar dangers have surrounded the newest method of
locomotion, some inseparable from rapid travelling, such as
collisions and other railway catastrophes. More particularly
the isolation of a passenger in the old-fashioned railway
carriage, the difficulty of obtaining assistance, and the want
of proper communication with others, have led to terrible
crimes on the line. It may be hoped that newer methods
may reduce these, perhaps entirely end them; the more
extended use of the corridor train and connected carriages,
with its free access from end to end, has added enormously
to the safety of the person, if not of property ; and, as I
write, I hear of a new application of electricity to give
immediate alarms. Before we forget what passengers have
suffered in railway travelling, I will now describe one or two
of the most remarkable cases recorded of railway crimes.
MULLER.
One of the first was the kilUng of Mr. Briggs on the North
London line — a notorious murder, memorable also for the
ingenuity and promptitude with which its perpetrator was
detected. Mr. Briggs, a gentleman advanced in years, was
chief clerk in Robartes' bank, and after business hours he had
gone dowQ to Peckham to dine with his daughter, and had then
returned via Fenchurch Street to Hackney, where he lived.
When the train by which he travelled reached Hackney and
pulled up at the platform, a passenger who was about to enter
one of the carriages found the cushions soaked with blood.
There was no occupant, nothing in the compartment but a
walking-stick and a small black leather bag. A strict search
RAILWAY BANGERS. 403
was made along the line, and a body was discovered near the
railway bridge by Victoria Park. It was that of an aged man
whose head had been battered in by a life-preserver. There
was a deep wound just over the ear, the skull was fractured,
and there were several other blows and wounds on the head.
Strange to say, the unfortunate man was not yet dead, and he
actually survived more than four-and-twenty hours. His
identity was established by a bundle of letters in his pocket,
which bore his full address : " T. Briggs, Esq., Kobarts & Co.,
Lombard Street."
The friends of Mr. Briggs were communicated with, and it
was ascertained that when he left home on the morning of the
murderous attack he wore gold-rimmed eye-glasses and a
gold watch and chain. The stick and bag were his, but not
the hat. A desperate and deadly struggle must have taken
place in the carriage, and the stain of a bloody hand marked
the door. The fact of the murder and its object — robbery —
were thus conclusively proved. It was also easily established
that the hat found in the carriage had been bought at Walker's,
a hatter's in Crawford Street, Marylebone ; while within a few
days Mr. Briggs's gold chain was traced to a jeweller's in Cheap-
side, Mr. Death, who had given another in exchange for it to
a man supposed to be a foreigner. More precise clues to the
murderer were not long wanting ; indeed, the readiness with
which they were produced and followed up showed how greatly
the publicity and wide dissemination of the news regarding
murder facilitate the detection of crime. In little more than
a week a cabman came forward and voluntarily made a state-
ment which at once drew suspicion to a German, Franz Miiller,
who had been a lodger of his. Miiller had given the cabman's
little daughter a jeweller's cardboard box bearing the name of
Mr. Death. A photograph of Miiller shown to the jeweller
was identified as the likeness of the man who had exchanged
Mr. Briggs's chain. Last of all, the cabman swore that he
had bought the very hat found in the carriage for Miiller at
the hatter's. Walker's, of Crawford Street.
This fixed the crime pretty certainly upon Miiller, who
had already left the country, thus increasing the suspicion
404 B0BBEBIE8 BY THE WAY AND RAILWAY OBIMES.
under which he lay. There was no mystery about his de-
parture; he had gone to Canada by the Victoria sailing
ship, starting from the London Docks and bound for New
York. Directly the foregoing facts were established, a couple
of detective officers, armed with a waiTant to arrest Muller,
and accompanied by Mr. Death, the jeweller, and the cabman,
went down to Liverpool and took the first steamer across the
Atlantic. This was the Gity of Manchester, which was
expected to arrive some days before the Victoria, and did so.
The officers went on board the Victoria at once, Muller
was identified by Mr. Death, and the arrest was made. In
searching the prisoner's box, Mr. Briggs's watch was found
wrapped up in a piece of leather, and Miiller at the time of
his capture was actually wearing Mr. Briggs's hat, cut down
and somewhat altered.
JUD.
A double railway crime was committed in France, or in
what was then France, by a notorious criminal named Jud,
who was never brought to account. He was an adventurer
who had long preyed upon Paris, but who had fallen from the
rank of false count to that of private soldier in the corps of
Equipages MHitaires. It was said that in this capacity he acted
as a Prussian spy, and supplied much useful information to the
War Office in Berlin. In any case, in 1860, he deserted, and
passing through Alsace into Germany, somewhere between
Tillischeim and Ilfurth, found himself alone in a train with
another passenger. This was a Russian army doctor. At one
of the halts the latter was found shot dead. There were two
fatal wounds, both inflicted by a revolver. At first it was
believed to be suicide, but was soon seen to be murder. His
companion in the train was identified as Jud, and he was
presently arrested, but as quickly escaped from custody.
Three months later another train murder was committed,
this time between Troyes and Paris. The victim was a judge
of high rank — a M. Poinsot, President of the Imperial Court.
Again suicide was imagined, but murder was soon proved, and
against this same Jud, who was recognised by a cotton com-
forter, dark red in colour, which was found in the railway
THE RED GOMFOBTEB. 405
carriage, and known to be his property. A mysterious reason
was given for both these murders. Orders, it was said, had
been issued from Berlin to remove the Russian doctor, who
was on a secret mission from the Czar to Napoleon III. M.
Poinsot, it has been supposed, had become possessed of
certain documents incriminating Jud as in the pay of the
Prussians, and the villain was determined to recover these
papers at all costs. The murderer had watched his victim
enter the train, efi'ected his purpose somewhere near Nogent,
and escaped before the murder was discovered.
His identity was clearly established, and his description
was forthwith circulated throughout France, with orders for
his arrest, wherever found. But Jud was never captured,
although the search was keen and continuous through all the
eastern provinces. Dozens of suspected Juds were taken, his
own brother among them, but the man himself always evaded
the police. M. Claude, the chief of the Paris detectives, under-
took the pursuit himself, and, disguised, visited Nogent and
Fenette, Jud's native place, then travelled into Alsace and
across the frontier. The story, as reported by French writers
at the time, was that when in Germany he was recognised by
the Prussian poUce and warned that he would never be
permitted to find or arrest Jud.
LEFROY.
The memory of the Gold-Lefroy case on the Brighton line
is still fresh, although the murder is now nearly eighteen years
old. The victim was a retired merchant, residing at Preston
Park, Brighton, who, in 1881, met his death between Merstham
and Balcombe tunnels whilst travelling in a first-class carriage
of the afternoon express train. Shots were heard by the other
occupants of the train as it was entering the first-named
tunnel, a struggle between two passengers was witnessed by
cottagers at Horley, and the body of the murdered man was
found on the line within the Balcombe tunnel. Medical
evidence showed that Mr. Gold was not disabled by the pistol
wound, and that the actual cause of death was fracture of the
skull when falling from the train. The other occupant of
406 ROBBERIES BY TEE WAT AND RAILWAY CRIMES.
the carriage, who gave the name of Lefroy, attempted to leave
the train at Preston Park, asserting that he had been the
victim of a murderous assault, and had been insensible till
just before the train stopped. His story was that there had
been two other passengers in the carriage, one by appearance
a countryman, and that on entering the Merstham tunnel he
(Lefroy) had heard a pistol shot, and next moment became
senseless from a violent blow on the head.
The story was not implicitly believed ; suspicion was aroused
against Lefroy. It was not sufficiently strong to justify deten-
tion, but the detectives kept him in view. When searched,
two Hanoverian coins had been found upon him, similar to
others picked up in the railway carriage. The ticket-collector
at Preston Park station noticed that he was covered with
blood, that he had lost his collar and tie ; from the look of
his shirt, they had been torn off. Moreover, an end of a
watch-chain was hanging out from his boot.
The police now accompanied him to Croydon, where he
was supposed to reside, and they called at a ladies' boarding-
school kept by relatives of Lefroy's. Here he asked per-
mission to make some change in his clothes, and the officers
allowed him to enter the house alone. That was the last
they saw of him. He had quickly changed his clothes, and
on the excuse that he was going to see a doctor, he decamped
through the back door.
The case now looked black against him, and fresh evi-
dence was forthcoming. Lefroy had a watch in his posses-
sion at Brighton, the number of which was identical with
Mr. Gold's; and when Mr. Gold's body was picked up his
watch had disappeared, as well as some £40 in cash — an
amount he had collected, dividends and takings, at several
shops he owned in London. With regard also to the
Hanoverian coins, of which Lefroy had denied all knowledge,
although two had been found on him, new evidence was
obtained. It was also proved that a day or two after the
murder he had passed two of them at a grocer's in payment
for goods. The shop-boy had taken them for gold and given
13s. 6d. change.
MUBBEB OF M. BABSME. 407
Lefroy was eventually run down by the police and cap-
tured in a lodging in Stepney. It had been noticed by his
landlady that he kept his blinds constantly down and wished
to escape observation, going by the name of Park, and passing
fox an engraver who needed rest and quiet for his work.
MURDER OF A FRENCH PREFECT.
A murder which reproduces most of the features of the
foregoing was that of a M. BarSme, Prefect of the Eure, who
was killed on the line between Paris and Cherbourg. His
body was found by the conductor of a goods train, some
five hundred yards from Maison Lafitte ; he was lying between
the two lines of rails, dead from a wound caused by a small
revolver ball, which had evidently penetrated the brain.
Another wound was found at the back of the head, a cut
made by a sharp instrument, or possibly in a fall against
broken glass. There was every appearance of a struggle,
as the deceased's overcoat and clothing were much torn.
A little further along the line the hat and cane of the
murdered man were also picked up, and it was supposed
that his murderer must have thrown them out of the
carriage after committing the crime. The prefect's portfolio
and hat were missing, but a purse containing money,
and an envelope with five hundred francs in notes, had
been left untouched. It was supposed that the guard's
whistle, giving notice as the train approached Maison Lafitte,
had disturbed the murderer, who thought it was about to
stop, and was thus impelled to throw the body out of the
window.
The first real halt of the train was at Mantes, just an
hour's run from Paris, and on its arrival a tall, thin man
was seen to get out of the wrong side of the carriage ; he
was checked for this, and apologised, then walked away.
Robbery was therefore scarcely the motive of the crime,
which was rather attributed to revenge. M. BarSme had
been active in pursuing a gang of card-sharpers who had
infested the Western Railway, and they were said to have
sworn revenge against him.
CHAPTER XVII.
BRIGANDS, BUSHRANGERS, OUTLAWS, AND ROAD AGENTS.
Brigandages generally — Italian, Greek, and Spanish Brigands — The Sicilians
Camusso and Esposito— The latter arrested in the United States — Bush-
rangers : Their Origin in the System of Transportation to New South
Wales — Davis the Jew — A Black Bushranger — Latter-day Bushrangers —
Gardiner and the Robbery from the Lachlan Gold Escort — Captain
Thunderbolt — Tasmanian Bushrangers — American Border Outlaws — The
Youngers and the James brothers.
The expression brigandage may be said to cover the
whole class of highway crimes on terra firma. They have
their origin, as has been already observed, in times and
places where there is but little organised protection for
the community. In new countries, with wide areas,
sparsely inhabited, in more settled lands weakly governed,
and given over to turbulence and disorder, the Ishmaelite,
whose hand is turned against his fellows, may long pursue
his desperate calling unchecked. We have had brigands
everywhere under such conditions, under different names,
but following always the same trade, now reproducing the
exploits of the highwayman of old, now adopting new methods
favoured by new facilities, adding to pillage, robbery, arson,
murder, the more ingenious, and often more profitable,
business of making prisoners and keeping them for ransom.
This last, indeed, is one ot the latest developments of
brigandage, and innumerable cases might be quoted that
have been seen in recent years. Now that Italy has ad-
vanced to the forefront among civilised nations, it is hard
to believe that Englishmen were held captive by brigands of
Southern Italy for three months and more, in constant terror
SICILIAN BBIGANDAOm. 409
of their lives, and only released on payment of £5,000.
Barely twenty years ago an English clergyman. Mr. Rose,
was captured by a Sicilian brigand not a mile from the
railway station of Lecrera. He was accompanied by two
Italian gentlemen whom the brigands soon set free, but
they held Mr. Rose to ransom, and carried him into
the mountains. As his friends delayed in paying up
the £5,000 demanded, the brigands proceeded to cut off
one oi his ears, which was sent to his wife. A second ear
was sent in the same way, with a threat that, unless ransom
was paid, he would be destroyed piecemeal. The British
Government now interposed and advanced the money, which
was peremptorily demanded from the Italian authorities.
The brigands in this case had already signalised themselves
by another daring feat — the carrying off of a gentleman,
Signer Fasci, from his country seat, just outside Palermo.
Their prisoner was old, helpless, deaf, almost blind, and
enormously fat. Having obliged his servants to dress him,
they mounted him on one of his own mules and took him
off to the mountains. He was thrown there into a cave
near the summit of Mount Calogero. Both entrances to
this cave, one above and the other at the flank of the hill,
were hermetically closed by the miscreants, and the old
man was held there in danger of his life, until the ransom
demanded was paid. Fortunately for Signer Fasci, the
authorities had promptly pursued the brigands and found
out the cave through the information of one of the band;
the cave was reopened just in time to save Signor Fasci
as he lay dying on the bare earth.
In 1865, and again in 1870, Greek brigands, the direct
descendants of About's " Roi des Montagnes," terrorised all
Greece. On the latter occasion, when Lord and Lady Mun-
caster, Mr. Vyner, Mr. Lloyd, and others, were captured, not a
dozen mUes from Athens, the ransom demanded was £50,000.
Before it was paid, four of the prisoners were murdered. In
1869 Mexican brigands, always prominent in their nefarious
profession, slew a victim out of hand when he refused to pay
ransom. The Spanish brigand has driven a fine trade until
410 BRIGANDS, BU8HBANGEB8, OUTLAWS, ETO.
quite recently. There was tlie capture of tlie Bonnells, near
Gibraltar, in 1870, when £27,000 was demanded and paid for
their release ; again, Mr. Arthur Haseldin was taken in the
Sierra Morena and held for £10,000, but released on payment
of a Httle more than half ; and Mr. Edward Rouse, in the
same neighbourhood, who, fortunately for himself, was released
on payment of £1,000. The Turkish brigand is still active ;
bands composed of many nationalities, Turks, Albanians,
Armenians, most of them old soldiers, good marksmen, inured
to great fatigue, have raised brigandage into a lucrative calling.
An attempt has been made to defend brigandage as
a sort of rough-and-ready though savage protest against
tyrannical rulers. The Russian serf sometimes rose against
his masters and perpetrated thefts and murders in remote
districts. The Italian brigand, too, has been excused on
the grounds that he only warred against oppression.
Brigandage was greatly fostered in Calabria by Bourbon
misrule, and was more than mere robbery. It was the war of
the poor against the rich ; but in its progress the country was
devastated, and murder, with lesser crimes, was rampant.
Between 1860 and 1868 there were four distinct bands of
brigands committing the worst excesses, remorselessly cruel
in their acts. One was led by Carnusso, a noted chief who
had some fifty followers under his command. One of his
crimes vies with any in history. Believing that certain villages
had given information against him, he made a descent upon
them and seized a party of harvesters: — forty men, women,
and children — in the fields, all of whom he murdered. He
ordered them to kneel down and say a prayer, then passed
along the ranks, cutting throat after throat. After 1868, when
the new Italian Government assumed power, a large reward
was offered for Carnusso, and bodies of troops were sent out
after him. Still he remained at large. No one dared earn
the reward, and the soldiers were led astray by the peasantry,
to be waylaid and killed in small parties among the hiUs.
Carnusso was at last betrayed by the mother of his child, to
revenge an atrocious act of barbarity. Pretending that the
baby's cries endangered the safety of his band, he had stabbed
SICILIAN BRIGANDAGE. 411
it to the heart. The mother had escaped, and then headed
the troops which attacked his hiding-place.
Sicily was long the home — the peculiar home — of the
brigand. It may be doubted whether brigandage has been
entirely stamped out even now. AU through the 'sixties and
the 'seventies men gained evil reputations for their persistent
hostility to society ; such names as those of Di Pasquale,
Leone, Rinaldi, Capraro, AMano, Plaja, Calabrese and Sajeva,
are still remembered with terror in the country. One of the
latest and most successful of Sicilian brigands was Esposito,
alias Randazzo, who was long at the head of a great associa-
tion of malefactors. It was he who organised the above-
mentioned captures of Signer Fasci and Mr. Rose ; he came
and went as he pleased, imposing his will upon the country-
folk, on whom he visited the sternest reprisals if they
attempted to betray him. He was guilty of innumerable
murders, some in self-defence, but many more in revenge.
So great were the enormities committed by Esposito and his
people that the ItaUan Government employed a small army of
regular troops to pursue them into their lairs. Still, several
years passed before the band was entirely broken up. Esposito
was at last taken and carried to gaol in Palermo ; but on the
road the prison van was attacked and he was rescued. He
fled across the Atlantic and took refuge in the United States.
A large reward was offered for his apprehension, and the
Italian Ambassador at Washington, hearing that he was peace-
fully engaged as a fruit-seller in New Orleans, obtained a
warrant for his arrest. Pinkerton's, the famous private
detectives, were charged with the execution of the warrant.
One of their agents accordingly secured a man supposed to be
Esposito-Randazzo, and carried him back in irons to New
York, where he was safely lodged in gaol pending the arrival
of witnesses from Sicily to identify him ; for he stoutly denied
that he was the person supposed, and there seems to have
been a conflict of evidence when the witnesses arrived.
Feeling ran high in the Italian colony, and there was a strong
party for and against the prisoner ; indeed, it is believed that
the dispute led to fierce blood feuds which are not yet extin-
412 BRIGANDS, BU8SBANGERS, OUTLAWS, ETC.
guished. So far as the prisoner was concerned, the American
Court held that the case had been made out against him ; he
was duly extradited and sent back to his own country for trial.
BUSHRANGERS.
Having taken this general review of modern brigandage, I
propose to describe now various manifestations of it in detail
It was never more actively and daringly practised than in the
Antipodes. The Australian bushrangers were, to all intents
and purposes, brigands : and some of the most notorious have
never been outdone in reckless cruelty or in the extent of their
depredations. They were the direct product of the system so
long pursued by this country of transporting felons beyond
the sea. The philanthropic theorists, who hoped great things
from giving them a fresh start in a new land, never realised
what might follow from the accumulation of so much rascality
in one territory, however wide, and with few of the safeguards
of a well-organised society. The result soon proved that it
was a dangerous experiment. In the early decades of this
century Sydney, the chief Australian town, was known as the
wickedest place in the world. " There is more immorality in
Sydney than in any English town of the same size," wrote a
careful observer at this time. Never in the history of man
was crime more prevalent than in the Antipodes. Not only
were heinous offences of frequent occurrence, but the moral
tone of the colony was low in the extreme, and drunkenness
was nearly universal. At that period the number of con-
victions for highway robbery in New South Wales alone was
equal to the whole of the convictions for all crimes in the
United Kingdom. Murders and criminal assaults were as
common as petty larcenies at home. Sydney was a den of
thieves ; the leaders of the whole fraternity were concentrated
and collected there; every class of criminal came to the colonies.
The system, or, more exactly, the absence of system, tended
to foster crime. The colony was one prison, yet without walls
or warders, proper discipline, or reformatory processes. The
care of the convict, his correction and coercion, his deteriora-
tion or improvement, were entirely in the hands of the
CRIME IN THE ANTIPODES. 413
employer or master to whom he was assigned. Many of these
had been convicts once themselves ; the rest were free settlers,
who could not be expected to know or do their duty by the
convicts. Although, to their credit, be it said, some tried to
make their men forget that they were convicts, as a rule only
one process was understood or practised to secure good order ;
that was the free infliction of the lash. Any magistrate could
order it on the mere request of the master, and for the most
trifling offences. Men were flogged cruelly, brutally, and
repeatedly for simple drunkenness, disobedience, idleness, and
neglect of work. Cases were known of men on whom, in the
aggregate, two and three thousand lashes had been inflicted.
There was Uttle or no alleviation of their hard lot ; to drink
and drink again, to gamble, quarrel, fight, were the only
relaxations within their reach.
As time passed, and the convict population increased
dangerously, growing more and more unmanageable, other
methods of coercion were devised. These were the road
parties, the chain gangs, and the penal settlements, to which
the worst characters were consigned, to labour, not severely,
and in association, so as further to corrupt and contaminate
each other. The chain gangs were kept mostly in the interior,
lodged in stockades, under a military commandant, with soldier
guards, while fairly watchful discipline was maintained. Lastly,
the penal settlements, such as Norfolk Island, and latterly Port
Arthur, Moreton Bay, and Tasman's Peninsula, became the
receptacle of the absolutely irreclaimable; these were foul
dens of iniquity, filled with the very dregs of convictdom,
where, in the words of an eminent colonial judge, " the heart
of a man was taken from him, and he was given the heart
of a beast."
The rdgirae in all these places of durance was much the
same where it could be enforced : plentiful coarse food, the
obligation to daily labour, with harsh discipline, and the pro-
longed loss of freedom. But with the utmost precautions, with
the severest penalties, it was found impossible to prevent
escapes. The more daring spirits constantly got away and
took to the " bush," to develop speedily into that awful curse
iU BRIGANDS, BUSHRANGERS, OUTLAWS, ETC.
to the community, the bushrangers, the notorious highwaymen
of Australia.
I propose now to deal with some of the most prominent
of these desperate offenders. Many of them were men of
great courage, with the power to command and organise, so
that they soon became the nucleus for other bandits to gather
round. In other remarkable cases the desperado worked
singly, and often more safely and profitably for himself.
NEW SOUTH WALES.
In the old colony, one of the most notorious bushrangers
was the "bold Donohue," who ravaged the Hunter district
about 1830-5, and whose greatest crime was the cold-blooded
murder of a much-esteemed gentleman named Clements.
Donohue had confederates ; two, Webber and Walmsley,
were, like himself, runaway convicts ; so was a third, Under-
wood, who long " worked " with him, but who was afterwards
shot deliberately by his leader, on the plea that he had played
him false. This small party of four met Mr. Clements on his
way to Sydney from the Hunter Kiver, when he was carrying
on him a considerable sum of money. He was accompanied
by two armed attendants, and as he was crossing the Bulga
road, leading to the river, Donohue rode up and asked for
some tobacco. Mr. Clements recognised his man instantly,
and would have drawn his pistol. Unfortunately, it was
fastened to his belt through the trigger cover, and before he
could call up his men to his assistance, Donohue discharged
both barrels of his gun, and killed the poor fellow on the
spot. Donohue was shortly afterwards hunted down and shot
red-handed, having first wounded one of the policemen sent
to arrest him. Webber and Walmsley were ultimately cap-
tured Donohue was a popular hero ; songs were composed in
his honour, and his name was on every tongue. He moved
to and fro with almost supernatural rapidity, he seemed
ubiquitous, and his exploits sometimes read like a romance.
In 1837 the Port Phillip district of New South Wales was
harassed by a gang of bushrangers, who were headed by one
Dignum, a convict who had escaped from assigned service.
DIONUM. 415
and who was soon joined by five others, among them a stripling
named Comerford. When they had made the neighbourhood
too hot to hold them, they rode southward, seeking some sea-
port where they might take ship and quit the country. But
on reaching Mount Alexander, a spot which became subse-
quently a famous goldfield, their provisions ran short in the
bush, and they were threatened with death from starvation.
In this extremity Dignum conceived the base idea of mur-
dering his eight companions, one by one ; then, having secured
the whole of the provisions left, of continuing his journey
alone. He was about to carry out his design in the dead of
night, when young Cornerford awoke unexpectedly, and
Dignum had no alternative but to take him into the plot.
They were only two against seven, yet they contrived to
complete the deed of blood. Dignum is supposed to have
shot six of his companions with his own hand, and Cornerford
brained the last with an axe. The murderers now took
counsel together and decided to work towards Melbourne,
which they reached safely, and there hired themselves out as
free labourers. Service did not suit them, and they quickly
abandoned it, only to be rearrested and handed back to their
employer, who handcuffed them in a room hard by, to wait
till he had dined and could take them on to the nearest
police-station. Dignum soon possessed himself of the key to
the cuffs, and set himself and his partner, Cornerford, free
Once more, having stolen firearms, they took to the bush.
They were pursued, but got off, to resume their robberies in
the neighbourhood of Adelaide. There was no loyalty or
attachment between them ; each distrusted the other, and
once Dignum anticipated a quarrel by firing at Comerford
while he rode a little in advance. The victim, who had so
narrowly escaped, galloped on to Melbourne and gave himself
up. On his information Dignum was run down. Cornerford
had confessed to the wholesale murders in the bush, and to
test the truth of his statement a search party visited Mount
Alexander, where unmistakable traces of the tragedy were
found — human remains, bones, skulls, and fragments of
clothing.
416 BBIGAND8, BUSHRANGERS, OUTLAWS, ETC.
Cornerford had accompanied the police so as to point out
the exact spot. By some unaccountable carelessness he was
left with a single guard; unhandcuffed, and watching his
chance, he shot the policeman and bolted into the bush.
After this Cornerford, the boy bushranger, ranged the neigh-
bourhood alone, a terror to all ; but he was at length seized
by a station hand and secured. They now carried him on a
dray, bound hand and foot, to Melbourne, where he was soon
afterwards hanged. His evidence was thus lost against
Dignum, who escaped capital punishment, but was sent to
Norfolk Island for life.
DAVIS THE JEW.
This man escaped from a chain gang near Sydney in
1840, and ranged the country between the Humber and Bris-
bane Water, where he was joined by an Irishman, named
Ruggy, and five others, aU runaways. Their operations were
very extensive. They stopped travellers, broke into inns
and storehouses, pillaged private stations, and promptly
carried off their plunder on pack-horses to some new scene
of action. Their rapid transit from point to point — levying
blackmail everywhere — long saved them from capture ;
but at last their depredations became intolerable, and a
strong force of police was sent out to hunt them down.
The gang, so far, had only robbed ; murder had not been
committed, but Ruggy, in an encounter with their pursuers
being hard pressed, shot a young colonist who had volun-
teered his aid to the police. This raised the whole country,
and the bushrangers fled before the outraged people and
took refuge in the Liverpool Range.
A Mr. Day, magistrate of Muswell Brook, and formerly
an officer of the 17th Regiment, headed a pursuing party,
which followed the hoof-marks of the fugitives' horses for
forty-three miles, and all but caught them at Atkinson's
Inn, on the Page river. Next day, however, they came
upon the gang encamped at Doughboy Hollow, in the bush
below the hills. Riding to the edge of the hollow, Mr. Day
dismounted and, gun in hand, rushed the camp. The gang
DAVIS THE JEW. 417
seized their arms and a fierce skirmish ensued, in which Davis
fired repeatedly at Mr. Day, but without effect, and the
energetic magistrate, eager to take the miscreant ahve,
closed with him and captured him. Ruggy was also taken,
and the rest laid down their arms. All the gang were
carried to Sydney, tried, condemned, and executed. The
Jewish community, however, made strenuous but unavail-
ing efforts to save Davis's life.
A BLACK BUSHRANGER.
I have by me a detailed account, from one who knew
him personally,* of a more modern bushranger who was as
remarkable in his way as any of his predecessors. He was
an Australian black who, when a child, had been taken
into the service of an up-country station holder, by name
Loder. The boy was bright and intelligent, and, benefited
quickly by such education as was at hand. He soon learned
English, not only to speak, but also to read and write
fluently. He was kept away from his own people, and
became in habit and appearance, if not in thought and in-
clination, a civilised being. As he grew up he repaid his
patron's kindness by giving good service as a skilful stock-
man, and showed great aptitude in every detail of bush
station work. Then all at once Mr. Loder died, and the
new owner of the property turned the young black adrift
upon the world.
Charlie Loder, as he was called after his old master,
was now about five-and-twenty years of age. He wandered
from station to station, taking what employment he could
get, and in 1867 was at Coolatai, where he was taken on
to help in the wool-scouring, which was then in full swing.
"Charlie" was tall, muscular, well-proportioned; all trace
of savagery had disappeared from his face; he was a
general favourite; willing, good-tempered, industrious, and
trustworthy, he punctually carried out any work entrusted
to him without question or supervision. But he did not
like wool-washing; the constant wetting to which he
* My lorother, Captain GrriiEths, formerly of the 61st Eegiment.
B B
418 BRIGANDS, BU/3IIRANGEB8, OUTLAWS, ETC.
was subjected affected his health, he said, and after a month
he left the station. Nothing was heard of him for months
and months, and when strange rumours were rife of a black
bushranger who was at large in a neighbouring district, no
one dreamt of connecting him with Charlie Loder, the re-
claimed aboriginal.
Yet so it was. Charlie's identity was presently established
beyond all doubt. Travellers turned up who had seen and
recognised hira on the roads, mounted, and armed with
gun and pistols. Precise stories were told, too, of his depre-
dations, which were always stained with merciless cruelty
The innate barbarity of his nature had reasserted itself
through the thin veneer of civilising processes, and he had
relapsed into the brutal aboriginal savage. He was quite
unsparing in his attacks, made always on defenceless women,
for he was too cowardly to interfere with men. He pre-
ferred to "stick up" the distant hut of the shepherd when
the shepherd was far away and his wife was alone and at
his mercy; he demanded toll in drink and food from the
lonely taverns by the wayside, or robbed the isolated bush
tenements, occupied mostly by peace-loving, inoffensive
women-folk. His atrocities were everywhere of the most
barbarous and revolting character.
The district of Warialda, in New South Wales, was
" Charlie's " favourite sphere of action, and so great was
the terror he inspired that no one dared to interfere with
him. The work of tracking him down was left to the
mounted police, who did nothing, and fresh instances of
the bushranger's daring exploits cropped up continually.
His cool effrontery was matchless. On one occasion, about
Christmastide, he quartered himself upon a shepherd, who,
with his wife, occupied a hut not a hundred yards from
the high road. By menace and intimidation he swore
them to secrecy, then, extorting money, he rode to a neigh-
bouring public-house to lay in liquor, so that he might
keep the Christmas festival properly. He was seen, although
not identified, on the road, in company with two others,
labouring men from Coolatai, who, when encountered later,
ORAllLIE LODEB. 419
seemed much flurried, and it transpired that he had
threatened them with terrible vengeance if they betrayed
him. At the tavern he was at once recognised as he swag-
gered into the bar with his pistols at his belt and demanded
drink The landlord supplied him obsequiously, and the by-
standers, many of whom knew him well, accepted his offer
to play pitch and toss, a game which went without intermission
for a couple of hours. All were abashed at his presence,
even the tavern-keeper, a tall, stalwart " cornstalk," and no
attempt was made to secure the desperado, though this
might have been easily accomplished. As he was riding away
from the tavern, however, a black native policeman and
tracker of a neighbouring township called out to him to
stop. As the bushranger made no reply, the policeman,
by name " Kangaroo," unbuckled his carbine and prepared
to shoot, whereupon Charlie galloped for his life, followed
by several shots, none of which took effect. " Kangaroo "
afterwards condemned the cowardice of the innkeeper and
the rest in very forcible and contemptuous terms.
Now, however, there was a general hue and cry for Charlie,
and the local constabulary were always hot on his track. He
kept mostly out of sight in the thick scrub, but was put to
great straits for food. At last, faint with hunger, he ventured
forth one day and, approaching the river Macintyre,
found a German trader's encampment. Charlie had now
degenerated into the true savage, hideous and imkempt,
like the hunted beast that he had become. He was
entirely naked but for a waist-cloth, his body shone with
oil, and his wooUy hair was cropped close to his head.
Walking up to Schneider, the German trader, he de-
manded food, tea, sugar, and the rest. Schneider guessed
immediately with whom he had to deal, and pretended to
comply. He climbed on to his dray to open one of the
boxes, Charlie standing expectant below. In an open conflict
the naked, sHppery savage would have an undoubted ad-
vantage. So Schneider tried a stratagem, which was to fall
on him bodily from above. This strange and novel method
of attack quite disconcerted the villain, and although he
420 BRIGANDS, BUSEBANGEBS, OUTLAWS, JBTO.
struggled violently, the combatants rolling over and over upon
the ground, he was vanquished in the end. The German
now produced a strong rope and made his prisoner fast to
the wheel of his dray. Charlie, convulsed with rage, cursed
him like a demon, and made the air hideous with his yells.
Presently the police came up, and he was conveyed, under
strong escort, to Warialda gaol.
Charlie Loder was indicted on several counts : robbery
under arms, bushranging, criminal assaults, crimes enough to
hang the wretch a dozen times over. But no capital charge
could be brought home to him, and although he was found
guilty of the first-named offence, the heaviest punishment
that could be inflicted was hard labour for ten years. He did
not long survive his imprisonment; the gaol, after a life in
the open, under the free air of heaven, soon proved fatal, and
he died within three years.
LATTER-DAY BUSHRANGERS.
The early bushrangers were mostly escaped convicts, as
has been described. When this class had nearly disappeared
others of a different stamp took to the desperate profession.
They were for the most part native-bom Australians, who,
weary of an idle, dissolute life, had taken to bush enterprise
out of pure devilry and a superabundance of animal spirits.
Many of these latter-day bushrangers began the business
for fun, almost as a " lark," but followed up some first wild
adventure by more criminal and determined performances.
They were better educated, and worked on wider lines. When
a leader of this kind appeared, he soon became a centre and
focus for the evilly disposed, and the gangs thus reached
formidable proportions. There was still a strong criminal
element in those Australian colonies where transportation
had flourished. Heredity showed itself, and the descendants
of the old convicts were drawn almost irresistibly — by con-
genital instinct, it may be said — to the malpractices of their
forefathers. The latest development of the bushrangers was
far worse than the first. Their organised " robberies under
arms " were bolder and more extensive. The growth of the
LATER BUSHBANGEBS. 421
colonies, the adoption of the banking system, above all the
enormous increase in wealth due to the gold discoveries, and
the consequent temptation to secure the precious metal, stored
or in transit, encouraged them to the most daring exploits,
which were long continued with impunity. The poUce,
although weU-intentioned, were often feeble in pursuit, and
unequal to the task of suppression. The robbers had many
friends among the settlers, gained partly by terrorism, partly
by sympathy, engendered by admiration, and a certain halo
of false glory that hung around them. Spies gave them the
earhest intimation of police movements ; of the opportunities
that offered for fresh robberies. The result was that for years
the whole country was unsafe. " Robberies have now become
so frequent," says a newspaper, in 1862, " that it is dangerous
to travel or move about. ... A representation should be
made to Govermnent showing the unprotected state of life
and property." But the authorities remained powerless even
to check these unnumbered outrages. The bushrangers were
ubiquitous, and defied pursuit or capture.
GAKDINER.
One of the most remarkable of these latter-day bushrangers
was Frank Gardiner, who, aU through the western and southern
districts of New South Wales, enjoyed the sobriquet of the
King of the Road. He had several aliases, but whether as
Gardiner, Christie, or Clarke, he may claim to be the father
of the robberies that harassed the colonies for some ten or
twelve years, beginning iu 1860.
Gardiner was at first no more than a horse thief His first
exploit, at twenty years of age, was that of " lifting " a horse
on the border of Victoria, in 1850. That district was infested
then with bands of men well mounted, who systematically
robbed out-stations of horses and cattle. Gardiner soon
became prominent among these, and when he was captured
with others, after a sweeping raid on a station at Salisbury
Plains, he was riding a magnificent thoroughbred chestnut,
which he had acquired by theft. In that robbery every horse
on the station but four had been carried off. The thieves
422 BRIGANDS, BUSEIiANGERS, OUTLAWS, ETC.
were sentenced to long imprisonment, but Gardiner, with ten
more, soon escaped. His next exploits were in and about tlie
goldfields of Bendigo, whence he returned to his own country,
Goulburn, in New South Wales, where he was again sentenced
for horse stealing, and sent to the penal settlement on the
Paramatta river. It was not until his release from Cockatoo
Island on ticket-of-leave, in 1861, that he adopted bush-
ranging as a business, and developed into the notorious
knight of the road he soon became — " a terror to every settler,
and the boldest and greatest breaker of the law that then
troubled the colony."
The chief scene of his depredations was the mountainous
country of the Murrumbidgee and the district of Goulburn
as far as Abercrombie. He was associated with other old
gaol comrades, notably by one Jack Piesley, and together they
" bailed up ' many persons, single travellers and mail coaches,
and " stuck up " stations continually. They had many narrow
escapes. Gardiner was actually captured near the Fish river
by a poUce sergeant and one trooper, in 1861, having been
first badly wounded in a fierce affray. But he was rescued, by
Piesley and another, as he was being carried off. A good
picture is given of this Piesley in the proclamation of a reward
for his apprehension. " . . . . About twenty-eight years of
age, five feet ten inches high, stout and well made, fresh com-
plexion, very small light whiskers, quite bald on the top of
head and forehead . . . puffed and dissipated-looking from
hard drinking ; invariably wears fashionable Napoleon boots,
dark cloth breeches, dark vest buttoned up to the front, large
albert gold guard, cabbage tree hat and duck coat. Some-
times wears a dark wig, and always carries a brace of
revolvers."
WhUe Gardiner went into hiding till his wounds were
healed, Piesley kept the road — to so much purpose that
again the Bathurst newspaper declares : — " We live in troublous
times, and unless some steps are taken to arrest these day-
light marauders, and put a stop to their proceedings, it will
shortly be unsafe to travel any distance from the town."
Piesley about this time committed a murder, the result of a
"BAILED VP" OR "STUCK UP." 423
drunken quarrel, and there was a fierce hue and cry for him,
but with no result, until he was at last met with in the
Wagga-Wagga district and " stuck up " himself by a plucky
settler. He was ridmg " a remarkably fine and fast animal,"
and had a good pack-horse which carried his " swag." He
was tried and duly hanged at Bathurst.
Meanwhile Gardiner, now fuUy recovered, was ravaging
the district of Bunagong. He " stuck up '' everyone he met.
In one case a gold digger and storekeeper named Horsing-
ton was robbed of about £1,000 in cash and gold dust.
The gold digger was driving in a spring cart and was escorted
by one or two friends, but the bushrangers reheved them of
everything, going about their business quietly and methodic-
ally, so that they deprived their victims of a nice little fortune
in about fifteen minutes. This, so far, was one of the biggest
hauls made; but it whetted the robbers' appetites, and their
next robbery was one of the most remarkable of their many
daring exploits. This was the plundering of the Lachlan
gold escort, by which they secured some £14,000, although
they might have got twice that sum. Owing to imperfect
information — the want of more exact knowledge of the
movement of gold — they missed that which had been sent
down by the escort of the previous week, and which had
amounted to £34,000.
The " gold escort " had been instituted for the safe con-
veyance of the precious metal from the goldfields to the
bank at Sydney, and so to the markets of the world. The
digger, when he had won his treasure from his claim, disposed
of it at once to travelling buyers, who paid cash and passed
it on, when collected, to the sea-coast. When a sufficient
freight had accumulated, the gold was carefully packed in
strong boxes, sealed, and sent down country by mail coach,
under a police escort. On this occasion, the 14th June,
1862, when leaving the town, then the chief centre of the
Lachlan goldfields, the escort was small. There were only
five constables, including the sergeant in command, and on
the box of the mail coach was a stalwart and experienced
driver. The treasure was in three boxes, addressed to various
424 BRIGANDS, BUSHBANQEB8, OUTLAWS, ETC.
banks in Sydney, and the aggregate value, as has been said,
was £14,000. There was also a heavy mail containing a
number of registered letters with valuable effects.
Five hours after departure, at Toogong, eight-and-twenty
miles from Forbes, the coach came upon an obstacle in
the roadway. Three buUock teams were drawn across it,
leaving only a small passage between them, while some high
rocks overhung on one side. To pilot his horses through this
the driver pulled them up to a walk, when suddenly six
men appeared from behind a sort of breastwork of rocks and
poured in a weU-directed fire. The attack was so sudden
and unexpected that the escort, two of whom were wounded,
could make no reply. Then, with mihtary precision, the
first six robbers, who had emptied their revolvers, retired,
and gave place to another six, who in their turn opened fire.
Now the constables made some reply, but the coach horses,
becoming terrified, bolted and upset the coach, and the
assailants with a loud cheer rushed forward and secured it.
The survivors of the escort made all haste to a neigh-
bouring station to give^ the alarm and seek help, leaving
the bushrangers to rifle the coach. They quickly seized the
gold, broke open the boxes, and transferred the treasure to
their saddle-bags ; then taking some of the registered letters,
they galloped away. The whole of this daring outrage had,
no doubt, been planned by Gardiner, although he was not
positively identified. The robbers were carefully disguised.
All had their faces blackened and wore red shirts and red
night-caps. The police sergeant, who survived, believed
that he had recognised Gardiner's face, but that was the
only clue, and it remained a mystery where he had collected
his gang, which numbered at least a dozen.
A very vigorous pursuit was at once set on foot, headed
by Sir Frederick Pottinger, the Commissioner of Police. The
robbers were tracked along the route towards Narrandera
and the frontier of Victoria, and three of them were cap-
tured with a portion of the gold; but the bulk made good
their escape into the topmost recesses of the Wheogo moun-
tain, where the booty was divided — some twenty pounds of
■ MORGAN. 425
gold for each man, not counting the bank-notes — and the
party broke up. Apparently the police came up with
several of the robbers, and in the heat of the chase many
dropped their share. What exactly became of Gardiner
was not known till long afterwards, when he was discovered
in Queensland leading a peaceable life and doing good busi-
ness as a bush publican. He was forthwith arrested, tried,
condemned, and sentenced to imprisonment for life. After
ten years he was recommended for pardon and, much to
the surprise and disgust of law-abiding citizens, released.
According to general belief, the ex- bushranger removed
himself to California with his ill-gotten gains and set up a's
a publican in a mining township, where he did remarkably
well His reputation as a desperate and successful law-
breaker gained him much custom and the respectful
admiration of many men as lawless as himself
Others took up Gardiner's mantle in New South Wales.
Dunn and the. Clarkes may be mentioned as ferocious crimi-
nals with an insatiable craving for bloodshed. But Morgan
the murderer was worst of all. He worked invariably single-
handed, ranging the country alone, always without a com-
panion. His robberies, which were wholesale, his "sticking
ups" innumerable, ended generally in murder, for he was
afflicted with blood madness, and pitilessly slew all his
victims. A widespread sense of relief was felt through-
out the colony at the news of his death. The pohce came
upon him unawares and must have shot him down at once,
ior his body was found riddled with bullets.
CAPTAIN THUNDERBOLT.
-The adventurous exploits of " Thunderbolt," the sobriquet
of a stockman named Ward who became a bushranger, might
make a romance ; but its hero was in reality a low, thieving
scoundrel, with no redeeming qualities but that of brute
courage and great tenacity of purpose. Ward, who, like
most AustraUans, was a fearless rider, infested the north-
western part of New South Wales. He had been a well-
conducted man, but was ruined by a sentence of imprisonment
426 SJRIGANDS, BUSHBANOEBSI, OUTLAWS, ETC.
for some minor offence. The gaol was near Sydney, on
Cockatoo Island. The Paramatta river encompassed it
with deep water on every side, and the chances of breaking
prison seemed small, yet Ward contrived to escape. Elud-
ing the vigilance of the sentries one dark and stormy night,
he scaled the ramparts, let himself down into the river by
a rope, and swam to the far shore.
He was scarcely at large before he started as a bush-
ranger, and for the following eight years gave more trouble
to the police than any man of his stamp mentioned in the
criminal records of the colony. He assumed the name of
Captain Thunderbolt, and gave out that his hand would
be for ever against his fellows, and that he meant to
wage undying war against society in revenge for his
wrongful conviction on perjured evidence.
Ward's first encounter was with the manager of a station
on which he had been employed for years. This gentleman,
a Mr. Eoss, was driving a lady in his buggy along a bush
high road, when two men rode up with pointed pistols
and in bushranging parlance ordered him to "bail up."
Mr. Ross immediately recognised his former stockman and
said, " Why, Ward, I am astonished to see you take to this
shameful course of life. You will surely not rob your old
master ? "
The lady fainted, and Mr. Ross added : " See, this is
the wife of our doctor, a gentleman whom you know
well." This appeal was too much ibr the bushranger, in
whom the traces of kindly feeling and gratitude still re-
mained. On his companion demanding Mr. Ross's watch
and purse. Ward bade him desist, saying, " He was a good
master and shall not be robbed." Then, raising his hat,
Thunderbolt rode away with his mate. This story is in
the style of Claude Duval ; nor was it the only instance
in which Ward showed signs of a generous disposition.
Indeed he ere long earned the reputation so often en-
joyed hj the gentlemen of the road, that of robbing the
rich to give to the poor. From that time forward to the
close of his life, the bushranger never stood in need of a
A NEW CLAUDE DUVAL. 427
friend. When hard pressed by the police, his knowledge of
the country enabled him to give them the slip, while in
the mountainous districts it was impossible to follow one
who was so conversant with every nook and cranny. Many
were the eiforts of the police to capture the ubiquitous
Thunderbolt. They were ever at fault, nor were they ever
able to elicit any information from the small settlers, all
of whom gladly gave the fugitive robber shelter and food.
Ward knew intimately all the good horses on the
stations around, either by personal inspection or through
his friends. He thus laid hands on the very best animals,
and often covered great distances in one day, as much
as fifty or sixty miles and more. The manager of
Cqolootai station owned a fine racer named Talleyrand, a
great favourite, and worth at least £150. Talleyrand, how-
ever, one night disappeared from the paddock, and though
a reward of fifty pounds was ofl'ered for his recovery, no
result followed. His master gave him up for lost, when
one day an old shearer arrived at Coolootai, leadiug
Talleyrand. The man's story was that when travelling
along the main road between Armidale and Glen Innes
he was met by Thunderbolt, who was riding one horse
and leading another. The shearer was an old friend of
the bushranger, and the latter asked him if he would
like to earn £50. "Yes," said the man, "that would
keep me on the spree for a month." " Then," answered
Ward, " you see this horse I am leading ; his name is
Talleyrand, and he belongs to the manager of Coolootai.
I have ridden him, but he is of no further service to
me; take him to Coolootai and you will receive the reward
for his recovery." The shearer immediately took the horse
home and was paid the reward. Talleyrand was in bad
condition and suffered from leg- weariness after many months'
incessant use, but was in other respects sound in wind and
limb. A short rest in the paddock completely restored the
horse.
The stony and rugged nature of most of the country
over which the bushranger travelled on his marauding
428 BRIGANDS, BUSEBANOEBS, OUTLAWS, ETC.
expeditions obliged him to have his horses constantly re-
shod. Accordingly he always carried shoeing implements
in his saddle-bags, and was thus independent of the black-
smiths. His knowledge of the capabilities of any animal
which he rode enabled him to husband its strength till
occasion arose to put its full powers of endurance to the
test. Travellers who came across Ward in the bush,
stockmen and others patrolling the runs, reported that the
bushranger met them without showing the least sign of
fear ; that he entered into conversation with them like
any ordinary acquaintance. His spies and well-wishers, and
their number was legion, kept him well acquainted with
the movements of the police, so that when any search
was afoot Thunderbolt had early notice, and speedily re-
moved himself to another section of the country, many
miles from the scene of his last robbery.
For most of the constables he had a profound con-
tempt, calling them bad riders and indifferent bushmen.
One alone, named Dalton, a policeman stationed at the
small township of Bingera, gave Thunderbolt any trouble.
This Dalton was an accomplished horseman and experienced
in bush-tracking, who on one occasion followed the trail
for three days and nights, running Ward so close that
they often came within sight of each other. At last, when
nearly exhausted by fatigue and constant exposure, the
bushranger got clear away and found a safe refuge in
one of the wildest parts of the district. Here he created
a retreat only known to a few, in which he concealed
himself when hard pressed by the police. It was situated
at the extreme boundary of a run named Wellington Vale,
amidst mountainous country so rough and inaccessible that
parts were known by such names as the Gulf, Land's End,
and Hell-hole. One who was led to the spot long after
Thunderbolt had passed away describes how he made a
toilsome ascent up high granite ridges, and also stony,
grassless valleys with no track, and the going much im-
peded by stones and boulders, until he reached a high
altitude, where, however, the country opened on to a table-
"TEUNDEBBOLT'8" HIDING PLAGES. 429
land with grass and clumps of low timber. All at once,
and without the slightest preparation for it, the earth
opened at their feet, and they stood on the brink of a
gorge that might have been the crater of an extinct
volcano. It was nearly circular, half a mUe in circum-
ference, with sides covered with tangled brushwood, sloping
precipitously deep into the mountain. To ride down was
hke riding down the side of a house, but there was a
fairly marked smooth track which led down into the base
of the cavity. The opening was Hke an inverted cone
narrowing to the bottom, where the brushwood ended in a
small flat sylvan glade, and here and there were still the
ashes of old fires, charred embers and fragments of bark,
with other signs of human occupancy in the past: two
ancient pint pots, an old " bUly," saddles, straps, worn-
out horseshoes, and pieces of untanned hide. This was
the sole vestige of the outlaw, who when hunted for
his life had found shelter in this wild and secluded spot.
Thunderbolt had other hiding-places beside that described
above. He was fond of a hole on the banks of the Macintyre
river, some six miles from Wallangra station. This was com-
paratively open country, and there was good pasturage for
horses. There were no habitations for miles around, and no
one came that way but the stockmen engaged on their yearly
musters.
Ward's operations would fill a volume. Besides the
simpler process of stopping single travellers, he several
times " stuck up " Her Majesty's mails, whether carried by
coach or rider. The summons to " bail up," given at the
pistol point, was followed by an order to throw the mailbags
into the roadway and ride or drive on. Thunderbolt then
ripped open the covers at his leisure, the bags disgorged their
contents, letters were torn open, cheques, bank notes, and
other valuables abstracted. The booty often reached a high
amount, and sometimes included cheques for £1,000, although
these were of little use to Thunderbolt. Such mail robberies,
with thefts from private persons, were his favourite crimes.
He was never known, throughout his career, to have " stuck
430 BEJ0AND8, BUSHBANGEBS, OUTLAWS, ETC.
up " a station or robbed a bank, nor did he injure poor people.
This gained him many friends and sympathisers among small
farmers and " selectors," who were always ready to shelter and
screen him. Eventually a law was especially passed making
this a penal offence. Yet the police could never learn his
whereabouts from the settlers, who always denied all know-
ledge, although they may have seen him a few hours before.
For years Thunderbolt went scot free. A companion, the
son of a New England shepherd, who often rode with him,
was captured by the police, but the bushranger never. The
youth was put on his trial at Armidale and sentenced to
detention in a reformatory, his friend Thunderbolt having been
present in court, it was said, during the proceedings. After
this a large reward, some hundreds of pounds, was offered
for his capture alive or dead. This stimulated the police to
renewed exertions, and at last Ward was killed. It came to
pass in this fashion. He had stolen a fine horse, and, having
become reckless, he rode it boldly into the town of Uralla,
near Armidale. He was seen leaving it, and followed by two
policemen, one of whom soon gave up the pursuit. The other.
Walker, stuck to Thunderbolt's heels, riding many miles in a
seemingly hopeless chase. At last the policeman caught up
his quarry on the banks of a small lagoon, into which the
bushranger plunged fearlessly on horseback. Fearing he
would lose his prey. Walker fired at the horse and shot it.
Thunderbolt fell into the water, but touching bottom he
stood up to his opponent, asking him impudently if he was a
married man and had provided for his wife and children.
A sharp revolver duel ensued, and Walker was obliged,
in self-defence, to shoot his man dead. This ended the
career of Thunderbolt.
TASMANIAN BUSHRANGERS.
Among the earliest bushrangers were those of Van
Diemen's Land, or Tasmania, as it is now called. The
territory was first occupied in 1803 as a penal settlement,
and within five years many bands of runaway convicts ravaged
the district. In 1815 a notorious leader, Mark Lemon, was
TA8MANIAN BUSHRANGERS. 431
captured with the whole of his gang ; but next year Michael
Howe renewed the terror, waylaid travellers, "stuck up"
stations and carried off the cattle. These depredations were
ended at length by the free colonists, to whom they had
become intolerable, and who joined forces to put them down.
Howe was the last to remain at large, and he also was tracked
to his lair and killed. Brady, in 1823, was very evilly known
in the district of Macquarie Harbour. He had been a gentle-
man's servant, and was transported when still quite a youth.
Ill-usage drove him to escape, and he was accompanied by
one McCabe, a seafaring man. The two quickly recruited
their numbers, and became a strong, much-dreaded gang.
They were not apprehended for years, although many parties
pursued them. Brady was eventually hanged, and seems to
have won much sympathy from emotional people, who wept
at the story of his sufferings in the bush. About this time
forty- three bushrangers had been captured, and eighteen
suffered capital punishment. It may be observed that the
same causes were at work in this as in the old colony, and
that the convicts were driven into the bush by the severity,
the brutality of the penal discipline. Every commandant ot
a station had the power to flog, and the lash was administered
freely for the most trifling offence.
Henry Hunt was a most noted bushranger of a later date
(1836). His character had hitherto stood high in the colony,
but he was convicted of stealing a gun and sent to one of the
road parties for fourteen years, but effected his escape and
became a bushranger. He murdered a Captain Serjeantson
but met his end by the hands of a woman, who, coming upon
him and her husband during a struggle, fractured Hunt's
skull with the butt end of a musket. Beaven, Britton, Jefkins
and Brown were perfect fiends who roamed the colony and
murdered people right and left. Their depredations became
so atrocious that large rewards were offered for their appre-
hension dead or alive. Beaven was at last shot, and the others
were taken and hanged.
" Jeffries the Monster " will long be remembered as one of
the most truculent and horrible ruffians who cursed Van
432 BBiaAKDS, BUSHBANOEIiS, OUTLAWS, ETC.
Diemen's Land with their presence. He had been the hang-
man in Edinburgh before his transportation, and had acted
as " finisher " in the colony, where he was also the official
flogger. His barbarous cruelty to a poor drunken wretch who
came within his grip, and whose toes were burnt off by
Jeffries' throwing him on a bed of hot ashes when drunk
forced him to fly to the bush, where he became a terror to all
the north of the island. He was guilty of many murders,
most of them from lust of blood, for he afterwards confessed
that he had been prompted by neither fear, revenge, nor
avarice. One was a comrade, whom he slew in cowardly
fashion and afterwards ate, so goes the horrible story. His
last crime was the most atrocious. He dashed out the brains
of a little child whose mother he had compelled to accompany
him into the bush. This roused the neighbourhood, and
every effort was made to capture him. The convicts were
permitted to assist in the pursuit, and free pardon was pro-
mised to any who apprehended him. He was at last secured
as he was resting by a fire in the scrub. When being carried
into Launceston, the young woman whose child he had
murdered sprang upon him and all but tore him to pieces.
The list is long, and the cases mostly present similar
features. Ward, Newman, Buchan and Dawson absconded
from a road party, driven to despair by a frightful exhibition
of cruelty, the infliction of 3,000 lashes on an offending
comrade. They suffered terrible privations as they passed
through the unlocated country on the east coast. Two lads
Jeffs and Conway, who absconded from a road party, shot a
constable at Avoca who had tried to capture them, and
pursued their robberies for some time. When arrested and
condemned to death, Conway was only twenty-three and
Jeffs twenty-one. All through these dread years, down to
1845, the bushrangers flourished in Van Diemen's Land, but
generally met their deserts, although often tardily. Many
were hanged, others sent to the penal settlement of Norfolk
Island. Three men who gave the police unceasing and
nearly unending trouble were Cash, Kavanagh, and Jones,
who made their escape from Port Arthur in December, 1843.
THE Y0UNGEB8. 433
These three comrades had implicit confidence in each other,
and worked in such union that they never feared to encounter
an equal number of assailants. They fought continually with
settlers and police, but Kavanagh was at last wounded and
taken. From Launceston assizes he passed on to Norfolk
Island. Cash was taken at the bar of a public-house, but not
before he had shot one constable dead. Cash also was sent to
Norfolk Island, but reached it after the murder of Captain
Price, and, escaping that stem official's rigorous discipline,
became so noted for his exemplary conduct that on the
breaking up of the establishment he was given a small
Government appointment, and married a respectable woman.
In the end he migrated to New Zealand, obtained a grant of
land, and lived out this days peaceably as a prosperous farmer.
Jones, the third of this small gang, was not captured imtil
some years later, and his bushranging career was marked by
many atrocities.
THE BORDER OUTLAWS OF THE UNITED STATES.
The American civil war naturally produced great unrest
throughout the territories where it was waged, and peace
between the belligerents did not mean the general pacification
of the country. Irregular and unauthorised warfare long
continued, carried on by desperadoes who had been guerillas,
and who were now thrown out of employment. Pillage and
rapine, robbery and murder, had become second nature with
many; outlaws banded themselves together and terrorised
the sparsely settled districts where the State - marshal's
warrant did not run, and there was not even a shadow of
police protection. Two families, the Youngers and the James
brothers, earned an extraordinarily evil reputation in these
disturbed times, and their misdeeds, long unchecked, call for
particular mention among latter-day crimes of the highway.
Cole Younger had served in the Confederate ranks under
Quantrell, a famous guerilla chief, who inflicted great losses
upon the Federals by his knowledge of the country and his
skill in contriving pitfalls and ambuscades. Younger took a
leading part as a trusted lieutenant. Although often in
c c
434 BRIGANDS, BUSEBANGEBS, OUTLAWS, ETC.
peril, his luck brought him always safely through. In the
great fight at Independence, he rendered great service to his
side by his boldness in reconnoitring. Again, in the battle of
Lone Jack, which the Confederates gained, after inflicting
severe loss on the enemy, he was well in the forefront. About
this time his hostility to the Federals deepened into vindictive
hate, for a band of their irregulars, commonly known as
Dennison's Kedlegs, had waylaid and murdered his aged
father on his farm. He vowed vengeance, and ruthlessly
massacred all who fell into his hands. He was further
exasperated by the deaths of three sisters, who had been
arrested on a charge of aiding and abetting their brother, and
"who had been killed by the falling in of the roof of a guard-
house where they were imprisoned. Yet again, his mother
was forced to fly from her home, being constantly harassed
by the enemy ; she could find no resting place ; and once, when
called upon to betray the hiding-place of her son Cole, the
troops, irritated at her steadfast refusal, burnt her house over
her head.
Towards the close of this bitter internecine war terrors
accumulated ; the ranks of the guerillas were joined by crowds
of reckless desperadoes. Billy Anderson, Frank and Jesse
James, of whom more presently, were guilty of frightful
excesses. Eapine and death ravaged the land ; wholesale
massacres took place ; men and women were executed by both
sides with no trial and short shrift ; and the Kansas States
Government, goaded beyond bearing by a terrible deed of
blood in Lawrence City, at last concentrated their forces to
make an end of Quantrell and the guerilla bands. Great
numbers of the miscreants were captured and shot ; the small
remnant hastily dispersed. Cole Younger, however, continued
in the field, and was on the point of raising a new regiment in
California, when General Lee's surrender at Richmond ended
the secession struggle.
Now the Youngers, Cole and his brother Jim, resolved
to levy war on their own account. They had taken the Black
Oath, a terrible vow to slaughter everyone who came within
their power and appropriate their belongings. Some of the
BARING RAIDS. 435
depredations committed by the Youngers and the Jameses may
be briefly mentioned. One of the first was the robbery of the
Clay County Savings Association, at Liberty, Missouri. This
was in 1866, and a number of the old guerilla hands were
implicated in it. An immense amount of booty was secured,
and the robbers eluded all pursuit. In this year the same
band made a desperate attempt to release one of their asso-
ciates, a notorious criminal, from the gaol at Independence.
This enterprise failed, but the unfortunate gaoler was shot
dead by the outlaws. Many successful and unsuccessful bank
robberies followed. No doubt the Russelville Bank was
robbed by Cole Younger and his brother Jim. After this the
band broke up, and the Youngers made their way into
Louisiana. Here Cole became the hero of a desperate outrage
at a race meeting. Believing he had been defrauded of
money he had fairly won, he opened fire on the crowd from
horseback, killed the stockholder, two of the judges, and
wounded five other men. Then, riding swiftly away, he made
for Missouri, and eventually reached California.
For some eighteen months Missouri was now relieved from
bank robberies, but, at the end of that period, the Youngers,
again joining forces with the James brothers, returned to
their old haunts and plundered the Gallatin Bank. This
robbery was effected with the utmost coolness, but the
cashier was killed. A posse of people was hastily collected
to pursue the bandits, but it was fruitless, and the robbers
got clear away with their money. The band was presently
strengthened by other bandits, but nothing serious occurred
until 1871, when a descent was made upon the Corydon
Bank, in the State of Iowa. This seems to have been accom-
plished quite easily, and a haul of 40,000 dollars was made.
Again the robbers evaded pursuit, although competent
detectives from Kansas City were put upon their trail.
At this time they organised a safe retreat in a remote
cavern in Jackson County, and here, surrounded by every
comfort supplied by their ill-gotten gains, they lived a life
of luxurious dissipation for many months. Tired at last
of their idleness they sallied forth in search of fresh
436 BRIGANDS, BUSHRANGERS, OUTLAWS, ETC.
adventures. They now selected Columbia City for attack.
Five men entered it by different roads and met at a central
point ; then they dashed down the streets, firing right and
left until they reached the principal bank. Dismounting,
they rushed in with levelled revolvers and demanded the
keys of the safe. The cashier bravely refused to surrender
them, and was shot dead on the spot. The robbers were
foiled, and, having failed to open the safe, they had to put up
with such plunder as could be found in the drawers, no more
than 2,000 dollars. Again a hasty, but fruitless, search was
set on foot by the townsfolk, but the outlaws found a hiding-
place in the rugged recesses of the Cumberland Mountains.
We next hear of the gang at the Kansas City fair,
where the treasure-box of takings was seized (10,000 dollars'
worth) as it was being conveyed to the National Bank for de-
posit. This daring raid was carried out in broad daylight,
and in the presence of hundreds, Once more the robbers
escaped ; their tracks were closely followed, but lost at last at
the entrance of their mysterious cave, where they divided
their plunder at leisure. Their audacity redoubled with
their continued immunity from capture, and their success
sharpened their appetite for plunder. After another bank
robbery at St. Genevieve, they struck out a new line of
depredation and perfected a plan for railway robbery. They
knew that a large sum in cash was . to be conveyed along
the Union Pacific line in July, 1871. At a point named
Adair, on the Omaha and Jackson branch, they loosened
one of the rails, and the train, on crossing it, was hopelessly
wrecked, the engineer being killed and many of the pas-
sengers wounded. The robbers then boarded the cars and
terrified the express messenger into opening the safe, which,
to their bitter disappointment, contained no more than
3,000 dollars, where they had expected to find 50,000 in
gold. But they obliged all the travellers to give up their
valuables. This daring outrage aroused the whole country,
and hundreds volunteered to assist in capturing the
criminals, who were followed into Jackson County, where
the trail came to a dead stop.
THE YOUNOEBS ANB JAME8ES. 437
Now for three years there was another lull. The robbers
remained inactive until 1874, when they stopped the Hot
Springs stage coach. The passengers were obliged to descend
after the manner of old-time highway robbery, and forced to
give up their possessions. Some 4,000 dollars were thus
secured, and at the end of the operation Cole Younger
addressed his victims, in an eloquent speech detailing
wrongs from which he and his family had suffered and
which had driven him into a life of crime. This outrage
seems to have passed unnoticed, and the outlaws were encour-
aged to undertake others of the same kind. The next rob-
bery was at GalshiU Station, which was " stuck up," to use the
Australian phrase, securing the officials and stopping the next
incoming train. The robbers, who were all masked, passed
slowly through the cars, revolver in hand, and looted every-
thing ; the passengers were deprived of money and valuables,
the express car was forced, the mail bags cut open and rifled.
It was estimated that the plunder in this raid amounted to
12,000 dollars. The Railroad and Express Companies offered
large rewards for the apprehension of the robbers, to gain
which many armed parties hunted through the country, and
Pinkerton's employed some of their best detectives to beat up
the quarters of the bandits. A sharp encounter ended this
chase. One of the Youngers — Jim — was shot, but he and
his brother Bob had first killed one detective and mortally
wounded another. Not long after this a stage coach running
between Austin and San Antonio, Texas, was stopped, with
the loss of 3,000 dollars.
Positive evidence is not forthcoming that the Youngers and
the Jameses were connected with all these robberies. Cole
Younger repudiated several of them. No doubt he was more
cautious, and less bloodthirsty, perhaps, than his brethren, but
he was a determined desperado and a noted leader among his
fellows. What they did he probably initiated, and pretty
certainly joined in. There were more train robberies, one at
Muncie, Kansas ; and in September, 1875, they committed a
bank robbery at Huntingdon, Virginia, which equalled any of
their previous exploits in audacity. Having ridden openly
438 BBIGAhWS, BUSHRANGERS, OUTLAWS, ETC.
into the town, two of their party opened fire upon the crowd
in the streets while the rest forced the bank cashier, at the
revolver point, to open his safe, from which they abstracted
10,000 dollars. Then they galloped away, but were closely
pursued by a number of mounted citizens, with whom they
had several fierce skirmishes, resulting in many deaths. Per-
haps the most remarkable outrage of all was an attack on
a train at Rocky Cut, on the Missouri Pacific Railway. The
engine was stopped by placing ties on the track, the engine-
driver and his assistants were made prisoners and locked up
in the baggage car. Meanwhile the passengers were held
prisoners in the cars while the bandits, masked and revolver
in hand, slowly passed through and laid their victims under
contribution. An hour and ten minutes was occupied in all,
at the end of which, booty to the value of 15,000 dollars was
secured. One point is worth noting here, that, during this
operation, the Youngers were distinctly recognised, while one
of the party, by name Kerry, was captured. Kerry, when in
custody, confessed and named many of his confederates.
A short period of inactivity followed, and, when the rob-
beries were resumed, the tide began to turn. At the breaking
open of the Northfield Bank the robbers' exit was nearly
prevented by a crowd of citizens who had quickly collected
around the door; shots were freely exchanged, by which one
outlaw was killed and Bob Younger wounded, while two more
of the robbers were shot dead on the outskirts of the town.
A very vigorous pursuit followed, and now Jim Younger
Avas wounded, and the blood flowing from his wounds left
a trail by which the chase was continued for several days. A
hundred and fifty armed men were now at the heels of the
bandits, who were finally run into among some brushwood on a
riverside. There was a fierce fight, which soon went against
the outlaws. One, named Charlie Pitts, was shot dead by the
sheriff. The three Youngers, after wounding several of their
assailants, were themselves frequently hit, and at last, when
nearly exhausted from loss of blood, they were aU secured.
The James brothers had escaped, having separated a little
previously and gone a different road ; there had been a quarrel.
THE YOUNGEBS OAPTUBED. 439
As has been said above, Jim Younger's wounds had left a trail
of blood easily distinguishable, and Jesse James, alive to the
danger, coolly proposed that Jim should be murdered then
and there. Exasperated at this cold-blooded proposal, the
Youngers bade the Jameses go their own road, which they
did, securing thus their own safety for a longer time.
Something of the old spirit which gained widespread
popularity for highwaymen in this country prevailed in the
Border land at the time of the Youngers' capture. Crowds
came to see them in gaol at Medalia, and openly expressed
sympathy and admiration for their so-called heroism. A halo
of romance was cast around Reta Younger, one of the sisters,
described as a beautiful girl of seventeen, who came, over-
powered with grief, to share their captivity. When the
prisoners were tried at Faribault, the county seat, and
sentenced to imprisonment for life, Reta rushed to her
brother's side and fell, half fainting and crying bitterly,
on his neck. No doubt the sympathy for the Youngers
was altogether misplaced; yet they seem to have possessed
some fine qualities, and some excuse may be made for
their persistent evildoing. The three brothers are said to
have been very fine-looking men. Cole stood six feet three
inches in height, Jim and Bob were nearly as tall; all had
gentlemanly manners and were esteemed as kindly and
charitable, after the manner of other brigands. Cole Younger
was noted during the war for his tenderness to women and
children, all of whom he shielded and befriended, whatever
their political opinions.
One more case of organised robbery in the United States
may be added, yet noc the latest and last, for there have
been crimes still more recent of the same class, but it would
be impossible to bring the subject quite " up to date," and
I will only mention the attack upon the Adams' Express
Company, two of whose officials, the clerk and the assistant,
were found one night, lying in a state of stupor, in the
rooms of the agency at Columbus, Ohio. The place had
obviously been ransacked, papers and packages lay strewn
about the flioor, the safes had been forced and robbed of
440 BRIGANDS, BUSHBANOEBS, OUTLAWS, ETC.
their contents. The two men had been chloroformed, and
the matter was at once placed in the hands of Pinkerton's
detectives. An immediate examination was made of the
premises, and this, with other inquiries, satisfied Mr. Allan
Pinkerton that the two employes knew something about
the robbery, even if they had not effected it themselves
The Express clerk, John Barker by name, had a brother
Henry, a notoriously bad character, who had been recently
seen in Columbus. It was hoped that by arresting the clerk
he would confess and so implicate this brother, but he steadily
refused to speak. The brother, as well as the assistant in the
agency, were placed under close surveillance, the effect of
which was entirely to exonerate the latter. Henry Barker
was, however, still " shadowed," and it was found that he
suddenly left Columbus for Chicago. The detectives followed
and tracked him to his wife's house. A watch was set upon it,
and he was seen, one morning, to leave the house, carrying a
valise in his hand. He now proceeded to the railway station
and took a ticket for Canada ; so did the detectives, and, when
the train had started, William Pinkerton, one of the brothers,
went up to him and accused him, then and there, of having
robbed the Adams Express. Barker was now secured and
searched, when only 50,000 dollars were found upon him, but
on examining the valise 14,000 dollars in notes was discovered
between the lining and the cover. After this, Henry Barker
made a clean breast of it, and confessed that 25,000 dollars
would be found buried in a vacant lot near his mother's house
at Chicago. Henry Barker also confessed how he had com-
mitted the crime. He had first won over his brother, the
clerk, and arranged that they should drug the assistant, then
that a small dose should be administered to John Barker to
give the impression that he also had been a victim. The
affair succeeded as we have seen, but the detectives were
cleverer than the criminals.
part W.
MUEDER MYSTERIES.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CONCEALMENT.
Murder will Out — Criminal Astuteness often at Fault — Difficult to Explain
away the Evidence — Suicide as a suggested Cause will not always Serve
— Flight not Easy nor Concealment Possible — Methods Employed to get
rid of Corpse — Solution of Murder Problems — Processes of Detection —
French said to be More Generally Successful than English Police — Some
Early Cases of Mystery Long Unravelled : Eugene Aram — Theodore
Gardelle — Hemmings — Huntley — Miss Hacker and Hannah Dobbs.
MORDRE wol out that see we day by day/' so wrote old
Geoft'rey Chaucer five centuries ago. He was satisfied
that a just God would not suffer such loathsome and abomin-
able deeds to lie hidden.
" 'Tho' it abide a yere or two or three,
Mordre will out, this is my conclusion."
Shakespeare was of the same opinion. 'Murder," says
Hamlet, " tho' it have no tongue wUl speak with most
miraculous organ."
As time passes, the fine fancies of the ancient poets are no
doubt largely corroborated by the records of crime. In the
more complex conditions of modern life, ^ in the greater
facilities it affords for the commission of crime and the evasion
of responsibility for it, the murderer may sometimes escape
prompt retribution. Yet often enough inevitable Nemesis
pursues and overtakes him ; something more, let us believe,
than the action of blind Chance interposes to reveal his
motives and methods, to lay bare incriminating facts and
442 CONCEALMENT.
bring home his offence. There are Murder Mysteries still
unsolved, perhaps unsolvable for ever. Fortunately, many
that were at first sight secret, and for a long time un-
explained, have come to be unravelled in the end.
I propose to set forth here some typical cases of various
dates, and collected from various countries. Cases of
murders most mysterious, the work of unknown hands;
murders that have left some traces and have still defied
detection and still remain a sealed page; murders that
seemed unaccountable and inexplicable and that have yet
stood self-confessed by the unexpected, perhaps automatic,
action of fortuitous circumstances, or, yet again, that have
yielded their innermost meaning to the professional sleuth-
hound working with natural iastinct backed by highly-trained
intelligence.
We know that in the great sport of man-hunting the
quarry is generally at a disadvantage: the hunted are
handicapped by their own shortcomings, the hunter has the
best of the game because he has the best weapons, and things
continuiilly play into his hands. It is a common tradition
that great criminals are gifted with unbounded astuteness.
This is surely an error, or at least an exaggeration. They will
show ingenuity, inventiveness, elaborate and patient skill in
planning a murderous coup, will strike their blow with cool
promptitude and great boldness, will seem carefully to cover
up their tracks and evade pursuit; yet they will fail some-
where. Somehow their work will either be redundant or
lack completeness.
Following out this line of reasoning, it is now very
generally agreed that in detection the simplest hypothesis
is the best, the most straightforward explanation will give
the most satisfactory results. Many murderers are really
persons of inferior brain power ; they are too often creatures
of mere impulse to be capable of any elaborate or
Machiavellian combination. It is pretty certain that if
true genius were applied to homicide, life would become
very cheap indeed. We are often reminded of the many
ingenious processes that might be utilised by an artist in
PROBLEMS IN DETECTION. 443
crime so as to produce the appearance of death from natural
causes and thus solve the supreme difficulty in all murders.
No doubt murderers before now have sought to leave the
impression that death has been from natural causes, or a
suicidal act. The suggestion of suicide has been put forward,
and might have passed but for the acumen of the investigator.
Self-evident facts have contradicted it and given the lie to
the ingenious suggestion. Yet this tempting method of
referring death to suicide or natural causes does not appear
to be very largely practised, and seldom successfully. Either
the average homicide is too slow-witted, as so many pretend,
or the idea comes to him too late, or if he tries to carry it
out he acts so clumsily, his work is so incomplete, there are so
many teU-tale gaps in his scheme that his artifice is presently
laid bare. Sometimes, often, indeed, any such suggestion is
forbidden by the manner of the murder, its suddenness, the
circumstances of time and place, the nature of the instru-
ments used. Murderers must then face the consequences of
their act or seek to evade them as best they can by taking
one or other of the two principal avenues of escape offered —
namely, flight, or the concealment of the corpse.
The first is sometimes out of the question. Unless he can
stand his ground the murderer would lose all recompense ; he
has risked his neck for nothing unless he can stay to reap the
reward of his crime. It has been prompted, as a great , ,
Italian savant has said when writing on the so-called born
criminal, by various ignoble passions : the greed for money or
possessions, the desire to be avenged, to be rid of a material
witness against him, and all these motives imply the necessity
for remaining on the spot. Again, flight is, in its way,
confession, an acknowledgment of guilt, a strong presumption
against him, when doubt still surrounds the crime and the
actual perpetrator is still unknown. Nor can flight be very
easily effected nowadays, when electricity and newspapers
quickly disseminate broadcast the news that a missing mur-
derer is "wanted," and millions of people become the
unconscious assistants of the police; when, moreover, the
nations are banded together in self-defence, and are for the
444 CONCEALMENT.
most part agreed to surrender the evildoer wherever and
whenever he is encountered. A Tynan may perhaps escape
just retribution, but only on some legal excuse, and, as a
matter of fact, there is no certain sanctuary anywhere for
the modern Cain.
Concealment of the corpus delicti, the chance of sup-
pressing all knowledge of the offence, these offer the best
security, the best hope of immunity, and we accordingly find
that criminal records teem with efforts made in this direction.
The first and simplest plan is to make away with the victim
so that all traces of him are absolutely lost — a plan, happily
for honest, peaceable folk, most diflScult of accomplishment.
This may be associated with plausible explanation of dis-
appearance, for there can be no sufficient proof without the
production of the corpse. In every case a murderer's first
care is to get rid of the plain, incontestible evidence of his
guilt. His only chance of safety is to conceal, make away
with the corpus delicti at once, to hide and abolish the silent
and the terribly eloquent witness against him. Hence a
whole series of crimes may be grouped under this one head.
They aU exhibit in varying methods and in different degrees
the same overmastering desire to dispose of the incriminating
remains. The plan pursued varies from the simplest forms :
that of burial, of casting out in wild and remote localities, of
immersion, sinking in deep wells, rapid rivers, or the open sea,
to the most intricate and most elaborate processes of dis-
articulation and dismemberment, performed often with the
utmost cunning and precaution, and aided, but more rarely,
by profound scientific knowledge and skill.
The solution of the criminal problems offered by these fell
deeds is one of the most interesting features in modern pohce
methods. In some cases the most remarkable intelligence has
been displayed : great gifts have been used — of quick wit to seize
almost imperceptible clues, the faculty of analysis, the power
of inductive reasoning. I shall describe in detail presently the
whole process of investigation as conducted from the merest
surmise to final proof, and especially by French detectives.
In England, strange to say, our otherwise excellent and
UNSOLVED MYSTERIES. 445
admirably effective police have been far less successful than
those of other countries in the unravelling of such mysteries.
No doubt under the British judicial system, -with its extreme
tenderness for accused persons, officers of the law possess
smaller powers and are greatly handicapped when in pursuit
of crime. The liberty of the person and the great principle
that no one can be compelled to incriminate himself are
precious birthrights, not to be lightly surrendered, but they
often tell in favour of the criminaL Many police triumphs
on the Continent are gained by methods abhorrent to English
law. Before blaming our police we should remember the
disadvantages under which they act, and be grateful that,
notwithstanding, they have done and are doing so much.
Yet the fact remains that in several remarkable instances
English murder mysteries continue unexplained, and that if
daylight has been let into others it has been the result of
mere accident. This was intelligible enough, and, indeed, ex-
cusable, in times past, before the police system was developed,
but the same cannot be said for the more recent cases of
Harley Street, Waterloo Bridge, Battersea, and Whitechapel.
These were mysteries of murder, followed by mutilation, that
will probably continue to be mysteries to the end of time.
If the police showed great patience in unravelling the Euston
Square case, they were still unable to bring the crime so
clearly home to Hannah Dobbs as to secure her conviction.
They are not, perhaps, to be blamed if the first suspicion
of Henry Wainwright's crime arose from the inquisitiveness
of a youth he himself employed ; we need not discuss the
point whether or not the original disappearance of Harriet
Lane should have been followed up from the first, and it
is at least certain that the chain of evidence by which
she was identified and Wainwright's guilt established was
well worked out by the police.
EUGENE ARAM.
Old criminal records contain many curious instances of
the immunity long enjoyed by murderers, terminated at last
by merest accident. The story of Eugene Aram is one of the
446 OONOEALMENT.
oldest and most famous. Great poets and novelists have
thrown a halo of romance around the principal personage in
the drama: the gentle, amiable character, and seemingly
blameless life of Eugene Aram appeared to raise him above
all suspicion. There are those who still maintain that he was
convicted upon evidence that would scarcely have been deemed
all-sufficing to-day. It was to a great extent circumstantial,
but it was also supported by the testimony of an accomplice
who turned " King's witness." Still, there were several
damaging facts clearly connecting Aram with the murder,
and the sympathy felt for him is rather due to the genius of
Hood and Bulwer Lytton than to any strong belief in the
man's innocence.
The story is too familiar to need more than a passing
reference, and that shall be chiefly to its legal aspect.
In 1758 some workmen digging for stone in the near
neighbourhood of Knaresborough found the bones of a human
body buried deep in the ground. The discovery was soon
bruited about, and it was then remembered that a certain
Daniel Clark had mysteriously disappeared some fifteen years
before. Others also remembered that a woman had said that
she could hang her husband if she was so minded. The talk
then turned on a man who was a known associate of Clark's,
Houseman by name, who had been in the company of Clark
when last seen.
Houseman was soon found and forthwith arrested. He
was shown the skeleton, but on taking up one of the bones
scouted the idea that it was Clark's. " It is no more his," he
declared, " than it is mine." Being pressed further, and
yielding no doubt to the secret promptings of guilt, he ad-
mitted that Clark had been murdered, but said that his body
would be found elsewhere. The spot he indicated was
searched and there were the bones. Nothing further appears
to have occurred with regard to the first skeleton, although
there was primd facie evidence that another murder mystery
was contained therein.
The second skeleton plainly indicated foul play. The
skull showed traces of fracture and there was indentation of a
EUGENE ARAM. 447
temporal bone. Medical evidence declared that this wound
had been made by a blunt instrument driving in the bone,
that no such breach could have been produced by natural
decay, and that it appeared to be of many years' standing.
Up to this point the general belief had been that Clark
had absconded. He had been engaged in certain fraudulent
transactions, had obtained quantities of valuables from local
tradesmen by false pretences — plate, jewellery, watches, and
clothing — and had disposed of them. His flight would have
been a natural effort to evade justice, but there was no
suspicion of him until the time of his disappearance.
Houseman was now implicated in the frauds and confessed
to them. But he also denounced Aram as an accomphce in
the frauds and principal in the murder, describing with great
minuteness and precision the whole of the circumstances of
the crime. He was eventually arraigned on his own indict-
ment, acquitted, and admitted as evidence against Aram, who
had been meanwhile pursued and traced to King's Lynn, where
he was peacefully employed as usher in a school.
Houseman's evidence went to show that he had entered
into a conspiracy with Aram and Clark to fraudulently obtain
goods on credit and secretly dispose of them. One evening
after the division of the proceeds, the three being together at
Aram's house, the latter proposed a stroll into the country
and they walked towards St. Robert's Cave. Aram and Clark
climbed a hedge and entered a field ; a few yards away from
the cave they began to quarrel, and Aram having struck
Clark several times, Clark fell. The part then taken by
Houseman does not exactly appear. Clearly he did not assist
Clark ; probably he made off at a run, anxious to be well quit
of the job. Only he went next day to Aram's house to ask
what had become of Clark, when Aram threatened him,
vowing revenge if Houseman spoke of the incident at
St. Robert's Cave, or of Clark being last seen in his (Aram's)
company.
It was also put in evidence that Aram when arrested by
a constable from Knaresborough denied that he knew the
place or that he had ever heard of a Daniel Clark, but he
448 aONGEALMENT.
subsequently admitted these facts. He rested his defence,
which was most ingenious and dehvered with much elo-
quence, first upon his general character and conduct. He
defied " malignity to charge immorality upon him." " I
concerted no schemes of fraud, projected no violence, injured
no man's person or property. My days were honestly
laborious, my nights intensely studious."
Next he protested against the theory that Clark's dis-
appearance implied that he was dead. Others had got away
unseen, among them a prisoner double-ironed and well secured.
Why not Clark ? Again, the mere discovery of bones was no
proof of murder. Bones had been exhumed frequently, on
the site of old hermitages even there, within easy reach of
Knaresborough. The bones of this particular skeleton were
fractured, no doubt ; but so were those of the Archbishop of
York, exhumed in 1723, and yet it was certain that he had
not died from violence.
Aram's great argument was that it was impossible to
identify a skeleton after thirteen years, and on this point
no definite testimony appears to have been adduced. Except
the evidence of Houseman, a not entirely trustworthy witness,
there was nothing to connect Daniel Clark with the bones
found in St. Robert's Cave. Aram denied also the conclu-
sions as to the sex of the skeleton, but this objection was
entirely set aside by the medical evidence.
Notwithstanding the doubtful points, the jury found a ver-
dict of guilty. Aram never explicitly confessed the crime,
but before the execution he admitted the justice of his
sentence. He also tried to commit suicide by opening a
vein with a razor on the morning on which he was hanged.
THEODORE GARDELLE.
This was only a shortlived mystery, and it is a good in-
stance of the difficulty of concealing the crime of murder. Ten
days elapsed between the crime and the discovery, but during
that time the victim's disappearance was noted and she was
asked for constantly. Again the'same frantic desire to dispose
THEODORE GABDELLE. 449
of the corpse drove the murderer to try dismemberment and
burning in the manner of many later offenders.
On the 19th February, 1761, a Swiss miniature-painter,
named Theodore Gardelle, was lodging with a Mrs. King in
a small house in Leicester Fields (now Leicester Square), not
many doors from the residence of Sir Joshua E,e3aiolds. At
that moment there were only three persons in the house : the
painter, Mrs. King, and her maid-of-all-work. Early in the
morning Gardelle sent the maid out on a message. When she
returned she met him coming down from the attics, his own
room being on the second floor. There was no landlady;
G-ardeUe explained that someone had called for Mrs. King
and she had gone out. He now seemed most anxious to
get the maid out of the way, sent her on more messages,
and at last said he was commissioned to pay her her wages
and dismiss her.
After this Gardelle remained alone in the house. But
other people came and went, the valet of another (but absent)
lodger, and some, asking for Mrs. King, who were to],d she was
unwell and keeping her own room. No one saw Mrs. King.
Four whole days elapsed, and on the 23rd a friend came to
take Mrs. King to the opera. Gardelle said she had gone out
of town, to Bath or Bristol, and the answer was accepted in
all good faith ; but the visitor remaxked that Gardelle looked
greatly perturbed. Now a woman came and took up her
residence with Gardelle, and presently, at her request, a
servant was engaged to do the housework by day. AH this
time the valet already mentioned continued to make in-
quiries for Mrs. King. This man stated afterwards that at
the end of a week — on the 26th, that is to say — he noticed
a curious smell in the house, that of burning flesh.
But no suspicion of foul play arose until the charwoman,
going to the cistern for water, found it choked with some soft
substance like rotting liver. With the help of the valet she
drew out a pair of sheets, blankets, and bedding. The matter
began to look ugly, and after a further fruitless inquiry for
Mrs. King, the police (Bow Street runners) were called in.
On gaining an entrance into Mrs. King's bedroom by the
D D
460 CONCEALMENT.
window — it was on the ground floor — they found the bed and
carpet soaked in blood. Gardelle was forthwith arrested, and
a minute search was made throughout the house. A number
of small morsels of human flesh were discovered under the
rafters of the roof, more in other parts, and a quantity of
calcined bones. The body had evidently been dismembered,
and in part subjected to the action of fire ; the head in par-
ticular, for no traces of it could be found.
The evidence went far, but it was unnecessary to strengthen
it, for Gardelle at once confessed. His story was that he had
quarrelled with the deceased, who had assailed him with bitter
invective, and that at last he had stabbed her in the throat
with the sharp-pointed handle of a comb. It was a sudden
impulse, an unpremeditated crime. This defence was marred
by the fact that, a few days before the discovery of the crime,
he had sent off a sealed box to a friend which was found to
contain the watch, jewels, and other valuables of his victim.
Gardelle was tried, condemned, and executed in the Hay-
market, near Leicester Fields. The crime caused intense
excitement, and was so long remembered that seventy years
later Theodore Hook makes one of his characters say, " as
dead as Theodore Gardelle."
HEMMINGS.
The murder of one Hemmings, done to death at Oddingley
in Worcestershire, in 1806, was not discovered for nearly a
quarter of a century, and then only by accident. The mystery
would have remained unsolved indefinitely but for the chance
demolition of a ruined barn in 1830, during which a number
of human bones were unearthed. These remains were not
immediately recognised, but they soon afforded strong pre-
sumptive evidence of identity. Several articles were found
with the body, a carpenter's rule and a pair of shoes with the
bones of the feet still inside them. Both the rule and the
shoes had been preserved intact by the stiff", marly clay soil
in which they had been buried. The skull was forthcoming,
and spoke plainly both as to foul play and as to the man who
had owned it. Hemmings had been an old resident in the
IDENriFYING A CORPSE. 451
locality, but was long missing ; he had been a carpenter,
and many things combined to prove that these were his
remains.
His widow stUl survived and swore to the skull, which
had been smashed and battered in by some heavy implement ;
the jaw was peculiar, the mouth of curious shape, and the
front teeth projected prominently. Then the shoes were
unmistakable. Hemmings was a man who walked in a par-
ticular way ; he trod very heavily on his heels, and that part
of the sole of his shoes was more worn than the toes. The
carpenter's rule, again, was immediately recognised by the
widow ; she knew it and could swear to it by a crack in the
wood near the rivet of the hinge. There could be no mistake
whatever as to the corpse. It was that of Hemmings.
When this had been established the circumstances of the
man's disappearance were brought to recollection. Hemmings
himself had been a murderer, and there were thus plausible
reasons for his leaving the neighbourhood. He had been
hired to kill the rector of the parish, the Rev. Mr. Parker, a
masterful, much-hated personage, known in his time as the
Bonaparte of Oddingley. People — afterwards arrested — had
been heard to say they would pay £50 to have Mr. Parker
killed. One man went so far as to express a vnsh that he
might find a dead parson that night before he got home.
Soon afterwards Mr. Parker was shot, and the crime was
fixed upon Hemmings, who was supposed, thereupon, to have
fled the country.
His readiness to commit the crime was his own ruin. It
came out from the confession of one concerned, and arrested
after the discovery of the remains, that those who had hired
Hemmings began to fear he might betray them, and were
resolved to put him out of the way of doing them harm.
Hemmings, who was in hiding among the straw of a barn,
was forced to come out before his accomplices, when one of
them promptly slew him by battering in his brains with a
" blood-stick."
After that the murderers sought about how to conceal his
body, thinking, and rightly, that if there was no trace of him
452 CONCEALMENT.
it would be supposed he had absconded. A secure and secret
grave was found within the limits of the barn ; in one comer
was a hole " scratched by dogs and rats," which was easily-
deepened by the murderers' spades, and here the corpse was
interred. Additional precautions were taken; several cart-
loads of earth were brought into the barn and laid above
the grave, so as to raise the level of the floor. But there was
no hue and cry for Hemmings ; his disappearance seemed
natural, and it removed suspicion from those concerned in
the clergyman's death.
Then the farm at Oddingley changed hands ; the removal
of the barn was an improvement made by the new tenant,
and the murder came out. In spite of the long interval that
had elapsed, several of the participators in the crime were
still living and in decent circumstances. Three of them were
arrested and tried for their lives. Their guilt seemed clear
enough, yet the case for the prosecution rested mainly on the
confession of one of them, and there was no conviction.
HUNTLEY.
The Yarm murder, perpetrated in 1830, discovered in 1842,
belongs to this class. Here again it was by pure accident that
the half-forgotten crime was revealed. Huntley, a well-to-
do person, was last seen in company with one Goldsborough
on the road between Yarm and Stokesley. Huntley had
■' come into his fortune," as he told many people that day
The lawyers had at last paid him over a legacy about which
there had been some litigation, and he was carrying in his
pockets a large sum in gold and notes. Then he and Golds-
borough went off on a poaching adventure, from which he
never returned. A few days later much blood was seen on
the road near Crathorne Wood. Goldsborough was seen to
be flush of money, he was proved to be in possession of a
silver watch with the initials "W. H.," and had six new
shirts marked in the same manner. But no steps were
taken to arrest him, and presently he moved from Yarm to
Barnsley, where he was residing in 1842.
At that date it was resolved to do some work in clearing
THE EU8T0N SQUARE MYSTERY. 453
the stream known as Stokesley Beck, which flowed past the
Crathome Wood. In the process of excavation a human
body was discovered in a hollow under one of the banks of
the river. It had been thrust in doubled up, and now nothing
but the skeleton remained. The skull was intact and was
plainly recognised as Huntley's ; it was identified beyond
doubt mainly by a projecting molar or dog tooth, and various
features: flat forehead, wide nose and face. Goldsborough
was hunted up at Bamsley and brought to trial, but was
acquitted for want of definite proof.
HANNAH DOBBS.
A comparatively recent concealment that proved all but
successful was the so-called Euston Square mystery in 1879,
when proofs that a murder had been committed were come
upon by mere chance. It was first reported in the morning
papers on the 10th of May in that year that " a shocking
discovery was made yesterday in No. 4, Euston Square."
The body of a woman had been found in a coal cellar.
The house was a lodging-house, and the cellar after having
been long disused had been re-opened to take in a ton of
coals for a new lodger. The man whose business it was to
go below and shovel the coal into the recesses of the cellar
suddenly struck against something that seemed like a sack
of clothes. Looking closer he saw a small mound, and this
proved to contain a mass of human remains. These were
soon examined by medical experts, who pronounced without
doubt as to the sex, and verified the age as between fifty and
sixty, judging by the remaining grey hairs. They were of
opinion also that the remains had lain there for two, perhaps
three years.
There were evident sigQs of foul play. A rope tightened
round the throat pointed to death by strangulation or hanging.
The theory of suicide was not tenable, first from the conceal-
ment of the body,, and then from the evident wish to destroy
it by the use of quicklime. This had done its work, for the
features were gone beyond recognition, while several of the
members had become separated from the trunk. There was
454 CONCEALMENT.
nothing at first to assist identification ; the only fact estab-
lished was that the woman had worn a black silk dress.
Another fact was, however, soon proved by the doctors —
that the deceased was afflicted with curvature of the spine.
Even with allowance for this, the body must have been from
5 feet 7 inches to 5 feet 8 inches. It was further seen that
it must have been placed just where it was found, and when
fully dressed. AU crumbled away to the touch, but not only
was the silk gown plainly made out but also a jacket of the
same material, covering which was a lace shawl, and outside
this another wrapper with some sort of hood. There was a
bonnet, too, of the fashion of two or three years back.
Evidently the deceased when done to death was on the point
of going out of doors. A brooch bf very common material
dropped from the shawl, and a plain ring was picked out of
the debris when they had been carefully sifted.
There was no present clue to the identity of the indi-
vidual. The lodging-house was kept by a certain Severin
Bastendorff, who could throw no light on the mystery. No
one was missing in the house ; everyone, lodgers and all, who
had come in and out for the previous two years could be
accounted for. Then came news from the far west, from
Bideford, where lived the parents of a maidservant, who had
had a place in this very house, and of whom they had heard
nothing for six months. Her name was Hannah Dobbs ;
could it be her corpse that had been found ? Her description
answered in many respects to the mysterious body — fair hair
worn in curls, one front tooth missing, another decaiyed;
Then the police learnt that Hannah Dobbs was alive and
doing six months in Tothill Fields for theft.
This Hannah Dobbs was now closely examined by the
detective inspector who had charge of the inquiry. She was
asked how long she had lived in 4, Euston Square, if she
remembered any of the lodgers, any ladies, any lady with
light curls ? Hannah Dobbs spoke at once of one who had
had the second floor front a couple of years before, and who
after only six weeks' occupancy had left in October, 1877.
She was an elderly lady, between fifty and sixty, with
IDENTIFICATION OF REMAINS. 455
grey hair — "decidedly grey," said Dobbs — and this did not
quite correspond with the discovery, for the hair in the body
found, although very light in colour, was only turning grey.
Something was thus gained, and the detective — Inspector
Hagen — went on to Euston Square, where he called upon
Mrs. Bastendorff to state all she knew of her lady lodger.
A reference to- the rent book showed that some time in
August, 1877, the second floor front was let to a " Miss Huish,"
so called. Miss Huish left the house at an uncertain date ;
indeed, it was not known positively when she had arrived,
for the arrangements had all been made by Hannah Dobbs,
to whom, on leaving, Miss Huish had paid the rent. Hannah
had brought the money downstairs, a £5 note, which Mrs.
Bastendorff changed and sent up the balance.
Next day the detective carried Dobbs to the St. Pancras
mortuary to view the remains. On the way in the cab he
questioned Dobbs as to the exact date of Miss Huish's
departure. Dobbs could not say; she had been out on
Hampstead Heath with the Bastendorff children, and when
she got back the lodger — who had left a shilling for her —
was gone. Was Huish her right name ? Dobbs thought
not, but at last remembered that it was Hacker, and that
Miss Hacker came up from Canterbury to collect her rents.
" She had plenty of money, then ? " suggested the detective.
" I don't know," replied Hannah ; " but she had a gold watch
and chain which she only wore on Sunday."
This watch and chain now became an important link in
the evidence. Through inquiries of the pawnbrokers, the
police traced them without difficulty, and found them at a
pawnshop adjoining Euston Square. The assistant identified
Hannah Dobbs among a number of women, as the person who
had pawned them. She had been seen wearing them, too,
openly, in the house of No. 4, Euston Square, even when
doing her work, and had been checked for it as not proper to
her place. Dobbs had given out that the watch was a legacy
from an uncle, as also the gold chain. These valuables were,
however, clearly proved to have belonged to Miss Hacker of
Canterbury. The watch bore the number and mark of certain
456 CONCEALMENT.
Canterbury makers; it was recognised and sworn to by the
deceased's brother and others. Dobbs had also been seen
with a cash-box which was known to have been Miss
Hacker's.
The inquiry had now got down to something like firm
ground. There was the identification of the deceased, and the
commencement of strong suspicion against Hannah Dobbs.
It was not difficult to learn all about Miss Hacker, and
the story was an odd one. She was one of those eccentric
characters who verge on the borderland of weakmindedness,
without family ties, full of strange prejudices, and eaten up
with vanity, who find{a ntoutlet in an excessive love for dress
and personal adornment of the most absurd and most extrava-
gant kind. Those who knew her well, under the many aliases
she assumed, for it was another craze of hers to hide her
identity, spoke of her smart costumes, which were always in
the latest and most outrd fashion. She left one lodging in
blue silk, with a Mother Shipton bonnet trimmed with white
satin and a long blue feather. Sometimes she appeared in
a white lace shawl and a red skirt ; under her white felt hat
her flaxen curls were arranged in short corkscrew ringlets.
Although she stooped, and had a bent, twisted back, she
walked with a mincing, sprightly step, assuming an air of
girlishness and juvenility. She still believed herself attrac-
tive, and would often talk of the days when she and her
sister were known and greatly admired as the "Canterbury
Belles '' and the " Winship Dolls."
When not crossed she was pleasant-mannered and lady-
like, but she could break out into violent abuse if opposed.
The police knew her, those of Canterbury in particular, and
the officers of the county court, for one of Miss Hacker's
eccentricities was a strong objection to paying rates and taxes,
and writs had been often issued against her. The watch and
chain already mentioned had been seized in this way, and thus
gave further corroboration of its ownership. The trouble she
brought upon herself by this Htigiousness was the reason fii
her moving her residence continually, and always assuming
new names. In Bedford Place, Russell Square, she was known
HANNAH BOBBS'8 DEFENCE. 457
as Miss Bell ; in Momington Crescent she was Miss Sycamore ;
at Ramsgate, Miss Huish — the last name that this poor ill-
fated creature assumed.
As the inquiry proceeded, it was ascertained that she must
have been alive on the 10th of October, 1877. A letter from
her to her rent collector at Canterbury, in her own undoubted
handwriting, bore that date. After that, letters sent by her
agent to her address — at a post office — were returned through
the dead letter office. A neighbour on the afternoon of the
14th of October, a Sunday, declared she heard a loud scream
from the direction of No. 4, Euston Square. At that time it
was averred that Miss Hacker and Hannah Dobbs were alone
together in the house. Bastendorff was away shooting — and
had to answer for it at the police court — Mrs. Bastendorff and
the one other lodger were out. It was believed by the police
that the murder was committed at that time.
The theory held was that Miss Hacker was struck down
by some heavy instrument, causing great effusion of blood. A
great stain, proved by medical experts to be a blood ^tain, was
found upon the carpet. Then the. body was probably dragged
downstairs into the cellar, where it must have appeared that
life was not quite extinct, and strangulation followed. This
was effected by a thick cord or line, a clothes-line found
deeply imbedded in the flesh of the neck and sufficient in
itself, according to the doctors, to have caused death. Some
acid oi: chemical had been used to accelerate decomposition ;
the rope was found stained red and very brittle under its
action.
Hannah Dobbs was in due course arraigned and tried for
her life. The facts above stated were proved ; her possession
of Miss Hacker's property, and that she was the last who had
seen her alive. The prosecution was well conducted, the
evidence seemed strong and conclusive. Yet Dobbs was ac-
quitted. The defence set up for her was that there was no
distinct proof of killing. It was urged that the body found
might have met a natural death, although Mr. Justice
Hawkins recalled the medical experts to repeat that the
strangulation would have caused it. There was no certainty,
458 GONGEALMENT.
went on Hannah Dobbs's counsel, that she and the murdered
woman were alone together in the house. The other lodger
and the landlady both had latchkeys, and might have come
in. This alone — the chance of meeting them on the stairs
— would have prevented anyone from running the risk of
dragging the body all the way down to the cellar. Yet more,
Hannah Dobbs had held her ground in the house for a whole
year. Would she have done so with the constant terror that
her victim lay there in the basement, and might be discovered
at any time ? She — Dobbs — had also the run of the house.
Why did she make no attempt to remove the remains ? As
a last argument, the identity of the body with Miss Hacker,
the owner of the watch and cash-box, was by no means
made out. In a word, if there had been a murder, and who-
ever had done it, there was not enough evidence to convict
Hannah Dobbs, and she was eventually acquitted.
The obvious aim of the defence was to throw suspicion on
the Bastendorifs. One of them, Joseph, who was on very
intimate terms with Hannah Dobbs, was subsequently put
upon his trial for perjury and found guilty, but it was on the
face of it impossible that either Severin Bastendorff or his
wife were cognisant of the murder, or could have taken any
part in it. For the man himself, in all innocence of what
would be laid bare therein, had ordered the cellar to be
cleared out, and the woman was well aware that this was
going to be done.
CHAPTER XIX.
DISPOSAL OF THE CORPUS DELICTI.
LacasBagne on Depechage — How Dismemberment has been effected — In slrilled
and uuskOled band — Generally in six fragments, although sometimes many
more — Methods of Disposal — Dismemberment more common in France than
in England — English cases — Jack the Ripper — The Waterloo Bridge
Mystery — The Battersea Mystery — Kate "Webster and the Barnes Mystery
— Catherine Hayes — The French Case of Madame Henri — Disposal by Com-
bustion— Indian Experience — Countess von Goerlitz in Silesia — Daniel
Good and his Victim — Cook and Mr. Paas — Bolam of Newcastle — Pel, the
Watchmaker of Montreuil — Dubois de Bianco, an intricate case and well
worked out Detection — Distribution after Dismemberment — Greenaore—
Eauschmeier.
We come next to tlie more ingenious and elaborate methods
employed for the efl'ectual concealment of remains. There
are so many common features about these processes, and
the practice has been so often adopted, that an eminent
French medico-legist. Dr. Lacassagne, of Lyons, has drawn
attention to it in a monograph, styled " Ddpichage," or dis-
memberment.
As fragments are easier of carriage than the entire corpse,
and are at the same time less recognisable, many murderers
have fondly sought safety in this method of concealment. The
most incriminating parts of the whole body, because the most
easily identified, are the head, hands, and feet, and the dis-
posal of these^ when separated and in small compass, seems
to present no great difficulty. In the typical cases that will be
given presently, it will be seen that various steps were taken
to make away with the head, but few equalled the ingenuity
of the Frenchman Voirbo, who poured molten lead into the
orifices, mouth and ears, and then threw the head thus heavily
weighted into the Seine, with the comfortable assurance that
it would never rise to betray him.
Dr. Lacassagne above quoted, whose experience is mostly
French, has established certain general principles in the
460 DISPOSAL OF THE GOBPUS DELICTI.
process of dismemberment. He has sliown first of all that
the skilled can be easily distinguished from the unskilled
hand. The first uses finer weapons to separate and disarticu-
late— bistoury, razors, saws, and scissors ; the latter only
bungles and hacks with brutal, blind force. Thus Avinain,
who had been an assistant at a hospital, and attended many
post-mortems, exhibited great skUl and neatness in dis-
membering his victim ; his cuts were clean and even, he
was proud of his work, and in speaking of it said, " I did not
chop up, I disarticulated." Liebiez, another French mur-
derer whose handiwork was intentionally less clean and pre-
cise, had been a medical student. Prevost, although a police
officer at the time of his arrest, had been a butcher, and
Vitalis was a collector of old books and prints, from which
he had learnt many useful lessons in anatomy.
Lacassagne has pointed out that in dismemberment there
are generally six fragments or pieces : first the head, then the
two lower limbs, after that the two arms, last of all the body,
this sometimes in two parts. But murderers have gone much
farther, and have almost made mincemeat of the pieces, both
to evade detection and to facilitate disposal. Menesclou, who
murdered a child of five, divided the head alone into forty-
three portions ; Provost, above mentioned, made eighty pieces ;
Mestag, the Belgian, chopped up his wife so small that there
seemed no clue left, and yet identity was established beyond
doubt by the colour of the victim's hair and the plain fact
that during life the lobe of one ear had been torn in a certain
peculiar fashion. To go farther into the horrifying details of
dismemberment is unnecessary.
Lacassagne next refers to the methods of disposal, which,
as he points out, have generally followed the same lines. This
is either by burying or casting the fragments away : the first
in gardens, cellars, secluded places, and aiding decomposition
by artificial means that often prove very disappointing, quite
defeating the object in view by preserving instead of destroy-
ing ; the second by throwing them down wells, over precipices,
into sewers and dxains, or out upon the deep sea. The plan
of enclosing them in boxes or chests, and treating them as
"JAOK THE BIPPEB." 461
railway parcels or mercliandise for removal, has also been
repeatedly tried. We have had many such cases in England
— notably that of Dr. Watson.
It may be observed as a curious fact with regard to dis-
memberment that the practice seems to be more common
in France than elsewhere — more common, certainly, than in
Great Britain. Some will say that English people are not
much given to the use of the knife either as a weapon of
offence or defence, and that therefore it is not near at hand
and immediately available after the fact ; or, again, that they
will generally shrink from the hideous task, even although
their safety depends on it. Others may offer the psycho-
logical reason that the intelligence of English criminals is not
so keen, that their brains are less active than those of other
races. But the fact remains that there are fewer cases of
dismemberment recorded in English criminal annals. It is
equally true that among these few several, affording a clear
primd facie proof of crime committed, have remained, and
still remain, a mystery unsolved. The whole series of White-
chapel murders attributed to the still unknown hand of " Jack
the Ripper " are supposed to have effectually puzzled the police
— supposed, for, as I have already pointed out in the Intro-
duction, strong suspicion attaches to three men, homicidal
lunatics for the time being, who, when the fit had passed,
perhaps forgot their offences. These, as we linow, carried the
destruction of identity as far as it could go ; the mutilation
was more or less complete; recognition of the individual
seemed impossible. Yet in every instance the victim was
actually identified, although this, the usual preliminary to
the detection of the perpetrator, bore no fruit. The crimes
were never brought home to anyone, and failing authority
for the statement just made, we are left to adopt any of
the plausible hypotheses suggested to explain away police
failure.
WATERLOO BRIDGE MYSTERY.
While on this branch of the subject it may be interesting
to refer here to one or two other remarkable cases of dis-
memberment which were a mystery at the time, and which
462 DISPOSAL OF THE CORPUS BELIGTI.
have since defied all efforts at elucidation. Two are especially
remarkable in this respect — the notorious Waterloo Bridge
case in 1857 and the Battersea case in 1873.
The first murder was brought to light soon after daybreak
on an October morning, when two lads, rowing a boat up
stream, came upon a carpet bag lying caught upon one of the
buttresses of Waterloo Bridge. It was hanging just above
the water, and either had been placed there overnight, or
someone from above had thrown the bag down and it had
lodged on the projection.
The boys got possession of it, believing they had picked
up a prize. It was locked and corded, the rope having been
trailing in the water when first seen. The cord was cut, the
lock forced, and the contents laid bare. These were the
mutilated fragments of a human body, chopped up into a
number of pieces, and mixed up with them were unmistak-
able shreds of male clothing.
To carry the hideous trouvaille straight to the police was
the boys' first and immediate act. Medical men were called
in — the divisional police-surgeon and Dr. Taylor, the medico-
legist, who had no difficulty in reporting as follows: —
" That the parts belonged, all of them, to the same body,
and were twenty-three in number, mostly bones with flesh
adhering to them ; that they had been sawn up or chopped
up so as to go into a small compass ; and that the mutilation
was obviously intended to destroy identity."
The parts most likely to help recognition — hands, feet,
and head-^were missing. There was nothing left that could
well assist identification, no marks or peculiarities — nothing
beyond the fact that the deceased was a dark and hairy
man, with one other ominous indication, that of a knife-
stab between the third and fourth ribs, which was, nearly
certainly, the cause of death, its direction plainly showing
that it must have entered the heart.
It was further proved by their appearance that the remains
had been partially boiled, and subsequently salted or placed
in brine. Some parts of the interior of the bones had escaped
the action of the salt, and from these it was possible to arrive
TEE WATERLOO BRIDGE MYSTERY. 463
at an approximation to the date of death, which must have
taken place three or four weeks antecedent to the discovery
of the bag.
There were a few other indications that might have con-
stituted clues. The clothes were those of a foreigner and a
male, they were much cut and torn, and were all more or less
blood stained. Most of these stains were on the inside, and in
the neighbourhood of the knife-stab, showing thus that the
wound had been inflicted while the clothes were on the body.
The cut had also penetrated them.
A reward of £300 was offered for the discovery of the
supposed murderer, but it was quite without effect. The
crime was never brought home to anyone. The police had
reason to believe that the man murdered was a Swedish
sailor belonging to some ship then lying in the ThameSi
That he had died of the stab was a self-evident conclusion.
Nothing that could lead to identification was forthcoming,
and failing this, the first essential in detection, the mystery
was never solved.
A theory was started that it was a hoax by medical
students, an explanation commonly offered, but in this case,
as in many others, erroneously. As Dr. Taylor has sagely
observed, such a suggestion only tends to favour the escape
of the real criminal. In the Waterloo Bridge affair there was
no foundation for the belief. It was utterly impossible from
the appearance of the remains that any parts could have been
subjected to anatomical dissection. In the first place, medical
students do not, as part of their anatomical exercises, hack
and mangle a body so as to destroy muscles, vessels, nerves,
and spinal marrow ; nor do they need to make away with the
parts that would lead to recognition, still less to boil and salt
the remainder. Corpses are not brought to them for dis-
section with their clothes still on them. Moreover, there is
no conceivable reason why medical students should inflict
cuts and stabs upon the clothing, or mark the inside with
blood stains exactly corresponding with the situation of the
wounds that have unmistakably produced death. It was
murder, and the mystery is still unsolved.
464 DISPOSAL OF THE GOBPUS DELICTI.
THE BATTERSEA CASE.
The second case I shall quote here, known as the Batter-
sea case, arose from the discovery in September, 1878, of
human remains upon the mud banks below Battersea water-
works. It was pronounced by the doctors, to whom it was
first submitted, to be the mutilated trunk of a female corpse,
and to have been barely twelve hours in the water. More
discoveries rapidly followed. Another part of the body was
picked up near Nine Elms station, just off Brunswick wharf:
then portions of the lungs were found, one under the old
Battersea Bridge, the other near the Battersea railway pier.
These all corresponded, and were easily pieced together as
parts of the same body. The head had been severed with
a sharp knife, but a saw had also been used. The face half
of the head had floated down below Limehouse and was
there picked up, but mutilated beyond all recognition. Other
fragments, limbs and parts of limbs, were found at Woolwich
Greenwich, Rotherhithe, and near the Albert Embankment
It was a curious fact that the pieces below the bridge had all
been picked up on the ebb tide, each piece lower and lower
down the river.
The body was reconstituted by Mr. Hayden, the medical
officer of the Battersea Union, and was proved to be that of
a female. The face, although much battered, bore the trace
of a wound on the right temple, which crushed in the skull
and no doubt caused instantaneous death. The dismember-
ment had been effected subsequently and only a short time
before the pieces were thrown into the river. Attention was
at once drawn to the reported cases of persons missing, and
for some time it was believed to be those of a Mrs. Cailey.
of Chelsea. As Mrs. Cailey was soon afterwards encountered
alive and in the flesh walking in the King's Road, Chelsea,
this theory fell to the ground. No other hypothesis offered,
and up to the present time no one has been suspected, much
less arrested, for this most undoubted crime.
Other cases strongly resembling the foregoing have been
so recently reported that they need not be inserted here.
ANOTHER THAMES MY8TEBY. 465
KATE WEBSTER.
A murder belonging to this group, and with many similar
features, was that known as the " Barnes Mystery," or the
Richmond murder of 1879. This crime would probably have
remained unsolved had the police been unassisted by out-
siders, and had the criminal been a little more circumspect.
In the first instance, the fact of foul play was made plain
by the discovery of mutilated remains, as in the Waterloo
Bridge, Battersea, and the more recent Whitechapel murders.
Like them, the story ended there. It would have had no
sequel but for the circumstances above mentioned.
The first suspicion of a crime arose on the 6th of March,
when a man, walking along the towing-path at Barnes, saw
a box floating on the surface of the water as the tide was
running up stream. He managed to get the box ashore, cut
the ropes that secured it, and looking inside found several
fragments of a human body neatly and closely packed in
brown paper parcels. The box was about one foot cube.
This was a first clue to some new murder mystery, and
the discovery was followed within a few days by others.
More human fragments were found buried or planted at
various points on the river side. The police were, of course,
active in their inquiries, but the mystery remained a mystery
until the 18th of March, when certain suspicious facts were
first communicated to the police.
A lady was missing at Richmond, and it was suspected
that she had been the victim of foul play. On the 19th
of March the police were warned that this was probable,
and the story told them was as foUows: —
A Mrs. Thomas, residing at Park Road, Richmond, had
not been seen or heard of since the 2nd of March. On that
night, as she returned home from the Presbyterian church, a
friend had accosted her and had received a reply. She did
not show next day, nor on the succeeding days. It was at first
supposed that she was ill and confined to the house. This
was the answer given abruptly, even rudely, to inquiring
friends by her servant, the only one she kept. Everything
466 DISPOSAL OF THE CORPUS DELICTI.
went on in the house as usual; tradesmen came for orders,
dehvered meat and groceries; the house washing was done,
scrubbing-brushes were heard at work, fires were poked,
clothes were seen hanging upon the lines to dry.
The neighbours, as might be expected in a narrow suburban
street, grew more and more curious; but nothing was said
imtil the 18th of March, when the owner of the house which
Mrs. Thomas occupied was roused to protest. A van appeared
brought by two men, who began to move out the fiirniture.
One of them was a publican who had purchased them. These
goods were the landlady's security for rent, and she came at
once to ask for Mrs. Thomas. Then a tradesman to whom
a small debt was owing turned up, and was strongly opposed
to the removal of the household effects. Where was Mrs.
Thomas ? What had she to say ?
But there was no need to wait for Mrs. Thomas to justify
her deed of sale, for the purchaser of the furniture now refused
to go any farther into the business. He saw that there might
be mischief, that Mrs. Thomas's goods might be claimed, and
that he might be called upon to restore them if he carried
them off. The van withdrew, and as it was leaving Mrs.
Thomas — so the men believed — came running out of the
house with a couple of dresses and a bonnet box.
"Here, take these, anyway," she cried, throwing them
into the van ; " they can't be distrained for rent." And
the men drove away.
" What do you know of that Mrs. Thomas ? " the publican,
Church, now asked his companion, Porter, by whom he had
been introduced to the lady.
" Not much. She used to live down our way, at Hammer-
smith, a year or two back. Didn't laiow her by the name of
Thomas then ; she was only called ' Kate.' She came round
the other night and asked me to do her a good turn."
" As how ? "
" Help her to the train at Hammersmith and carry a
parcel She's been in once or twice since — says she's a widow
now, name of Thomas ; got a comfortable independence."
Church was only half satisfied, and when he reached home
WHERE WAS MBS. TE0MA8 ? 467
he had a look through the things he had got from Mrs.
Thomas. In the pocket of one dress was a letter addressed to
Mrs. Thomas, dated from another part of London, and signed
" Mehennick." It was a very friendly sort of letter, for
Church presumed to read it, and afterwards he called at the
address to ask about Mrs. Thomas. He was not received
very cordially at first by the Mehennicks, but the warmth
passed off, especially when he had described the Mrs. Thomas
he knew — a tail, stalwart, black-browed, deep-voiced Irish-
woman, not at all resembling the Mehennicks' friend. Their
Mrs. Thomas was a spare little woman, bright, active, and fair.
"There's something curious about all this," said Mr.
Mehennick. " I shall write to-night to Mrs. Thomas's
solicitors. I know where to find them."
Next day one of the partners came down to Richmond
and, after hearing the facts, communicated with the police,
demanding a thorough search of the premises in Park Road.
Were there two Mrs. Thomases ?— or none ? Was someone
falsely masquerading as such, for purposes of her own ?
The house in Park Road was empty — not a soul was to be
seen, nothing Hving found ; only a heap of charred bones
under the kitchen copper and more charred bones under the
kitchen grate. The woman, whoever she might he- — but of
this there was soon no doubt at all — had absconded. It was
" Kate," Mr. Porter's " Kate," but really Kate Webster, Mrs.
Thomas's " general " servant.
Fortunately for justice, although she had flown she had
left traces by which she could be followed. In the hanging
cupboard of her bedroom was a dress, and in its pocket
her photograph ; also a letter, addressed to her by* name,
from her native place in Ireland.
A smart police officer started at once for Dublin, and,
thence to the place named in the letter — Enniscorthy, in the
county of Wexford. Kate Webster was easily found, captured,
and brought back in custody to London. She was very com-
municative on the journey. Although duly warned, she would
talk about the case, and tried hard to throw the blame upon
others, especially on the publican Church. " It is not right
468 DISPOSAL OF TEE CORPUS BELIOTI.
that the innocent should suffer for the guilty," she declared,
going on to say that Church had often come to the house in
Park Koad, urging her to put the old woman out of the way.
She asked " How ? " " Poison her," said Church. But later
he stabbed her with a carving-knife, after which (Webster
described the operation minutely), he cut up and disposed
of the body, seized the effects, and tried to carry off his
victim's furniture.
That Webster was lying might be guessed from the
simple fact that she had never met Church tUl Porter had
introduced him as an honest broker to buy the effects. But
the chain of circumstance was soon woven tightly around
her. Porter's story was quite condemnatory. He told how
she had come to his house in Hammersmith on the evening
of the 4th of March, and asked him to see her to the train.
He had gone, accompanied by his son, a lad of sixteen,
and the two of them carried a black bag for her as far as
the bridge. She had left them at a public-house, and had
gone alone with the bag across the bridge, where she was
to meet a friend. When she came back she had no bag,
and said she had handed it over to her friend.
Now she asked Porter to let her take his boy home with
her. Porter agreed, and the lad said afterwards that she plied
him with rum, and then made him help her carry a box ; this
time as far as Richmond Bridge. Arrived there, she made
him walk on ahead, and he did so, but not too far to hear
the splash of something — no doubt the box — as it fell into
the water. As a matter of fact, the box was gone when the
woman rejoined him. The boy readily recognised it as the
one picked out of the Thames by Barnes towing-path. It
was a bonnet 'box of foreign make, about one foot square.
Webster's movements to and from the house in Park
Road were disclosed by a cabman who had frequently driven
her and her parcels to the station. She was accompanied by
a fair-haired man of about five-and-thirty, and this implicated
Church. He was apprehended and eventually tried, but was
able to prove an alibi, and altogether clear himself of com-
plicity, and was acquitted.
TEE CASE AGAINST WEBSTER. 469
Highly incriminating evidence was given by the next-door
neighbours in Park Road. In the early morning of the 8th of
March, the day after the supposed murder, the kitchen fires
had been alight, and the boiler at work. The boilers in the
two houses were back to back, with only a thin wall between.
When the boiler in one house was used, it was plainly heard
in the other. That portions of the body had been boiled was
proved when the fragments had been found, and it was clear
that they had been subjected to the action of fire.
Webster was in due course found guilty and executed.
She persisted in her denials to the last, and stiU sought to
incriminate others. This case has something more than a
passing interest to me, as the woman Webster was actually
engaged by me as cook, only a few months before the
tragedy in Richmond. I was at that time governor of
the prison then in process of construction upon Wormwood
Scrubs, and lived with my mother in the Uxbridge Road.
Returning home one evening, I was told that a Suitable
cook had been seen and engaged, subject to satisfactory
replies to references. My warder-messenger happened to
be with ™e that evening, as he had called for the letter-
bag. No doubt the sight of the blue uniform aroused
Webster's suspicions, and she must have learnt my official
position. In any case, she never came to take up the place
that was waiting for her !
CATHERINE HAYES.
It is right to revert here to one of the earliest cases
of dismemberment recorded in England, as it exhibited
many of the features that are seen nearly always in this
class of crime. These old-time murderers -jrere the fore-
runners of many, and did their best to remove the corpus
delicti piecemeal, beginning "with the head.
It was in 1725, on the 2nd of March, that a watchman, one
of the " Charlies " of olden days, patrolling the river bank at
Westminster, found a human head lying on the muddy fore-
shore. The place was a lime wharf near Millbank, not many
hundred yards from the spot where the great Penitentiary
470 DISPOSAL OF THE CORPUS DELICTI.
was erected about a century later — the old prison tliat has
now given place to the handsome edifice in which the Tate
collection of pictures is now housed. This lime wharf
was at the Horse Ferry, a passage way across the Thames,
that preceded the present Lambeth bridge.
The news soon spread through the neighbourhood, and
many people flocked to view the head, which had been carried
to St. Margaret's churchyard, where it was laid reverently
upon a tombstone. As it was much besmeared with blood
and dirt, the churchwardens ordered the features to be washed
and the hair combed. Then it was impaled upon a high pole,
and set up in fuU public view " to the end that some discovery
might be made." At the same time, the chief constable of
Westminster ordered the petty constables to keep close guard
upon all the avenues to the river side, examine all passing
carts and coaches, and thus detect any attempt to make away
with the body in the same way as the head.
" Thousands," says a contemporary chronicle, " went to
witness this extraordinary spectacle, and there were not
wanting those among the crowd who openly expressed their
belief that the head belonged to one Hayes."
A youth named Bennett, apprenticed to the " king's organ
builder," went to the lodgings of this Hayes, saw his wife,
and forthwith told her. She at first ridiculed the sugges-
tion, then grew angry, declaring that her husband was alive
and well, and that it might do great mischief to " start such
a vain tale." The lad was warned seriously that his wild
talk might get him into trouble, and accordingly he said
no more.
Others, however, had the same opinion. Patrick Campbell
spoke it aloud at a public-house in the presence of a certain
Billings, who lodged with the Hayes, and was, indeed, reputed
to be Mrs. Hayes' son. BiUings swore it was all a mistake ;
he had left Hayes that morning in bed, alive and well.
As positive recognition was delayed, steps were taken to
preserve the head, which was put into a glass case filled with
spirit of wine. It was presently seen by others, who knew
it instantty. The continued absence of Hayes induced a
THE IDENTIFICATION OF THE HEAD. 471
friend, Ashby, to call at his house and inquire for him. Ashby
was told as a profound secret by Mrs. Hayes that her husband
had got into trouble and was keeping out of the way. He
had had a quarrel with another man, and had, unfortunately,
killed him. Being unable to make up the blood-money
demanded by the deceased's widow, Hayes had absconded
to Portugal, as she believed.
This seemed a very improbable story, and Ashby went on
to King's Street to consult with a publican named Longmore,
who kept the " Green Dragon," and was nearly related to
Hayes. Longmore also inquired of Mrs. Hayes, and heard a
different story from that told to Ashby ; so the pair of them
resolved to examine the head picked up in the Thames, about
which there was so much excitement.
They verified it at once, and thereupon applied to the
nearest magistrate, " Justice " Lambert, for a warrant to arrest
Mrs. Hayes and all who occupied the house in Tyburn Road.
In those days every good citizen was an amateur policeman
and eager to further the ends of justice.
Mrs. Hayes was taken up, and with her the man Billings,
also a woman, Mrs. Springate, who lived above. They were
all committed to gaol on suspicion.
Next day, when called upon for examination, Catherine
Hayes expressed an earnest desire to see the head, and was
carried to the surgeon's where the glass case was kept. " It
is my dear husband's head!" cried this infamous woman,
with the idea, no doubt, of diverting suspicion. Next she
took the glass into her arms and embraced it, shedding many
tears. It was then opened for her and the head extracted.
She kissed it several times and asked for a lock of her
husband's hair. But when the surgeon suggested that she
had had enough of his blood already she fainted away. The
part she played was difficult to sustain.
Further evidence of the crime was at this moment
stumbled upon. Fragments of the body wrapped in rags
of blanket were discovered in Marylebone Fields, where
they had been thrown into a pond. The case looked black
against Catherine Hayes and Billings, but no definite proof was
472 DISPOSAL OF THE CORPUS DELIGTI.
forthcoming until the third party to the murder was appre-
hended. One Wood, a friend of the Hayes', who had been
lodging with them at the time of the disappearance, was
caught riding up to the house. After some demur, but on
learning that the head and body had been found, he made
full confession of the crime.
Hayes and his wife lived together on bad terms. She was
a woman of low origin and not irreproachable character ; he
was an avowed freethinker, and therefore " not fit to live," as
Mrs. Hayes put it, adding that she would think it no more
sin to kill him than a dog. The idea of murdering him gained
strength with her ; she proposed it to BiUings, and afterwards
to Wood, using the further argument that Hayes was himself
a murderer, having killed two of his own children, whom
he had buried, one under a pear tree, the other under an
apple tree.
The deed was at last agreed upon and accomplished after
a long drinking bout. Hayes had boasted that he could
consume half a dozen bottles of " mountain wine " without
feeling the effects, but became stupidly intoxicated before he
liad finished them. Then, as he lay drunk upon the bed,
Billings fractured his skull with a hatchet, and Wood com-
pleted the business by two more strokes. Then followed the
dismemberment. The head was severed over a pail to catch
the blood. The latter was poured into a sink, followed by
several buckets of water. The head Mrs. Hayes proposed to
boil, so as to destroy all identity, but her accomplices feared
the operation would take too much time, and the head was
thrown into the Thames. It was not carried down stream
as the murderers hoped for ; the tide was on the ebb and
the rising water washed it again ashore.
There was no evidence against the woman Springate, but
the other three were sentenced to death. Wood died in
Newgate before execution, Billings was hanged, and Mrs.
Hayes, under the existing law, as a husband-murderer and so
guilty of petty treason, was burnt at the gallows. In such
cases it was the rule that strangulation should precede com-
bustion, but the executioner let go the rope too soon, and the
HOW HAYES WAS KILLED. 473
unhappy creature Hayes was literally burnt alive. This was
not the only case in which such a horrible catastrophe had
occurred, but the law that made it possible continued in force
until 1793. The last woman convicted of petty treason and
sentenced to be burnt was Phoebe Harris, in 1788.
MADAME HENRI.
History repeats itself. More than a hundred years after
Catherine Hayes, another wife slaughtered her husband under
somewhat similar conditions. She was a woman of Brittany,
Henri by name, a hard-working, well-disposed peasant, but
avaricious, hating all waste and wild living. Her husband's
ways exasperated her. He was not a bad sort of creature, so
the neighbours said, only his own worst enemy — an abso-
lutely hopeless drunkard.
When he returned home in his cups his wife gave him
the cold shoulder, put him on a bread- and- water diet, and
abused him furiously.
The crisis came when she inherited a small legacy, and
saw this provision for her old age threatened by her husband's
propensities. A night or two afterwards he came home drunk
as usual, sneered at his wife with maudUn contempt, and met
his fate.
Madame Henri possessed herculean strength, and with
one blow of a bludgeon she struck him down, as she thought,
dead. Finding he still moved, she repeated her blows on his
head and chest until she had beaten in the first and his body
was black and blue. Not satisfied with this savage treatment,
she stabbed him several times with a stable fork.
The deed done, she dragged the corpse down into the
cellar, covered it up with straw, went to bed, and slept soundly.
At daylight she borrowed a hatchet from her neighbour and
proceeded to dismember the body. Afterwards, when arrested
and under examination, she explained how she had separated
the limbs from the body, how she had cut off the head and
disfigured it. To get rid of the remains, she filled three sacks
with fragments, and carried them one by one to the river.
The distance was nearly five miles, but she made the journey
474 DISPOSAL OF THE CORPUS DELICTI.
with her ghastly burthen night after night on three suc-
cessive nights, weighted each parcel with heavy stones, and
threw them into the running stream.
One of the sacks betrayed her. It was caught in the bars
of a water-wheel, and hung there till the miller's man came
and disengaged it. " It is the hand of Providence," cried his
master, when they examined it and found the traces of a
crime.
This sack furnished a clue, at least, as to the sex of the
murderer, which was quickly seized upon by the instructing
judge. The mouth of the sack had been sewn v/p. A man
would have tied it : only a woman sews — she has her needle
and thread always handy.
The discovery of the remains was followed by their ex-
posure for identification. At first several mistakes were
made ; this commonly happens. At last, positive evidence
was offered that the body was Henri's, and suspicion at once
fell upon his wife. The judge went straight to her house, and
she fainted at the sight of him. Blood stains, clothes newly
washed, the borrowed hatchet, silly excuses for her husband's
absence, all helped to incriminate the wife. At last a gen-
darme insinuated himself into her confidence, and she con-
fessed that she had killed him for coming home di-unk.
" Next morning I got a hatchet and cut him up into small
pieces, so that he should be less in my way." She waited
till the following day, as she told the judge, because she
believed that less blood would flow in cutting up from a
corpse that was quite cold.
Madame Henri was found guilty, and sentenced to
travaux forces for twenty years.
DISPOSAL BY COMBUSTION.
It is recorded that the body of Catherine Hayes was not
entirely consumed for three hours. This statement is not
based upon any exact evidence, so far as I can find, and it
does not tally with later experience. The fact is interesting
in its way, and I have called attention to it, as it brings up
the question of disposing of murdered remains by the action
COMBUSTION. 476
of fire. This has been tried not infrequently, and seldom with
success. It is, in fact, extremely difiicult to get rid of a corpse
by combustion. Dr. Chevers, an eminent medico-legist, who
during a long period of service in India collected materials
for a valuable work on " Medical Jurisprudence," gives figures
to show the enormous amount of fuel required to consume
an adult body entirely. He found that in a funeral pyre
at Patna, twenty maunds (1,600 lb.) of wood, as well as
two large bottles of oil were used, and the combustion lasted
for eight hours and a half, without completely destroying
the remains.
The attempt is often made to produce the appearance of
death from fire. We shall come presently to the celebrated
case in Belgium, that of Dubois de Bianco, whose charred body
was found in his bed, and the police were at first satisfied that
he had burnt himself to death by carelessly igniting the bed
hangings. This was shown on closer investigation to be quite
a mistake, and as the steps by which detection of the crime
was effected constitute one of the most interesting of police
stories, I shall deal with the facts on another page. In this
case it was satisfactorily proved that combustion took place
most unmistakably after death.
COUNTESS VON GOERLITZ.
The time taken in combustion and the circumstances in
which the burnt body was found, brought about the detection
of the murderer of the Countess von Goerlitz in Silesia. It
afterwards came out from his own confession that a servant in
the family, one Stauff, the Count's valet, was detected in the
act of stealing in the Countess's bedroom. The thief turned
on his mistress, and after a fierce struggle, strangled her. He
was then faced with the problem so often presented to the
murderer : How was he to conceal his crime ? He decided
upon burning the body, but leaving it so as to appear that the
Countess had been accidentally destroyed by fire. He piled
combustible pieces of furniture around her, and then ignited
them. The fire must have been slow in its effects. The
Countess was known to have gone to her room between three
476 DISPOSAL OF THE GOBPUS DELICTI.
and four in the afternoon ; the Count came and knocked at
her door at seven, but on receiving no reply, went away, to
return at nine, when the fire was discovered. During the
previous two hours a bright hght had been seen at one
of the bedroom windows, and a thick smoke issuing from
the chimney.
The conclusion arrived at, almost without question, was
that the Countess had been burnt to death. The doctor
called in could give no other explanation than spontaneous
combustion, and there was no further inquiry at the time.
The funeral took place in due course, and it was not till
a year later that suspicion first attached to Stauff. He
made an attempt to poison his master, and it was thought
possible that he might have also murdered his mistress. The
body of the Countess was exhumed, and submitted for the
opinion of the Medical College at Neisse. They decided that
there had been no spontaneous combustion ; the Countess at
the time of her death was in excellent health. Other and
more precise evidence showed, moreover, that when the room
was first broken into flames burst out simultaneously from the
hangings, the writing-desk, and the floor beneath. It was
assumed, therefore, that the body had undergone slow com-
bustion until it had reached full red heat ; it then ignited
its surroundings, a process the very opposite to that which
happens when people are burnt to death. Then it is found
that the lighted surroundings set fire to the body. Expert
evidence at the trial convicted Staufi" of having burnt the body
after death. Strangulation had preceded burning, and was
the actual cause of death, the tongue having been found
greatly protruding, as in the case of violent strangulation.
DANIEL GOOD.
The difficulty of disposing of the remains by fire was
shown also in the case of Daniel Good, who murdered his wife
in 1842 in the stables of Granard Lodge, Roehampton. The
discovery of the crime was another instance of the helpful
action of mere chance. There would probably have been no
detection but for the stupid attempt made by Good to steal
DANIEL GOOD. 477
a pair of trousers from a pawnbroker's shop in Wandsworth.
A policeman was called in to arrest the thief, who made off
and was followed to the stables he occupied at Roehampton.
Close search for the stolen trousers was made in the larger
part of these premises, the policeman visiting the carriages,
the coach-house, the stalls of one stable. But there was
another stable, locked, and Good refused point blank to
give up the key. At last the bailiff who served the same
master came and insisted that Good should open the stable
door. Inside were several corn bins and a number of trusses
of hay.
The pohceman began to turn these over, Good evincing
marked uneasiness the while. Presently, without the slightest
warning, he bolted out of the stable, slammed the door behind
him, and turned the key in the lock. The imprisoned police-
man had come upon something much more significant than
the missing trousers. Under a truss of hay was the trunk of
a woman's body, from which the head and limbs had been
severed. The medical experts who were called in bore
testimony to the sex and age, those of a woman between
twenty-four and twenty-five. Other ghastly remains were
discovered in the fireplace of the harness-room. Here was
a large heap of wood ashes, and amongst them the nearly
calcined bones of head, arms, and legs. Good, it was now
remembered, had kept large fires constantly burning in
the harness-room.
Good's escape from justice was only temporary, although
he eluded pursuit for nearly a fortnight. At last he was
recognised quite accidentally by an ex-policeman who had
known him at Wandsworth. Good had got as far as
Tunbridge, where he was working as a bricklayer's labourer.
He denied his identity, but when taken before the nearest
magistrate was seen to take a comb from his pocket and use
it to bring the hair back over a bald place on his crown,
a constant trick with the fugitive murderer. Further evidence
against him was afforded by his use of a part of the blood
stained clothing as a pad to protect his shoulder from the
bricklayer's hod.
478 DISPOSAL OF THE GOUPUS DELICTI.
COOK.
The cases where the annihilation of the remains by fire has
been attempted might be multiphed. This process figured in
the murder of Mr. Paas by Cook, the bookbinder of Leicester.
It was contemplated by Bolam, the bank manager of New-
castle, who sought, by setting fire to the bank, to give such
a complexion to facts that he would be himself exoner-
ated. Menesclou, the young miscreant in Paris who murdered
a little child of five and then cut her up, tried combustion
to rid himself of the remains. Pel, the watchmaker of
Montreuil, a wholesale murderer and poisoner, who, in one
case at least, found the corpus delicti lie heavy on his hands,
had recourse to the same expedient.*
Cook was a rather commonplace murderer. He was in
debt to Mr. Paas, a manufacturer who suppUed him with the
tools for his trade. Paas came down from London to Leicester
to collect accounts, and was seen to enter Cook's workshop.
A large fire was blazing that same evening (Wednesday) in
this workshop, and Cook showed at a public-house that he
was in the possession of a large sum in cash. Through the
night the same strong light was seen on his premises, and
he was heard continually moving about. Next morning
at daylight his landlord, who was a milkman, found Cook
busily engaged at his trade.
All Thursday the light blazed in the bookbinder's work-
shop, and towards evening had so increased that the
neighbours thought the premises had taken fire. Cook
himself was absent, and a forcible entrance was made. An
enormous fire was roaring in the grate, and on top were
large pieces of flesh roasting. Cook, when fetched, declared
that it was horseflesh which he was cooking for his dog.
Medical evidence soon gave the lie to this statement,
and found speedy corroboration in the discovery of human
remains, a mutilated body partly consumed, and hidden about
* An interesting case will be found in vol. ii., p. 83 — the murder of one
doctor ty another in Boston, U.S.A., which, was detected through a false tooth
having resisted the action of fiie.
FIRE NOT ALWAYS EFFECTIVE. 479
in various parts of the workshop. Evidence fixing his identity
was also forthcoming : the leg of a pair of black trousers, such
as Mr. Paas had worn ; a snuff-box, eyeglass, and pencil-case
with the initial "P," and some scraps of black cloth were
found in the workshop ; also a gaiter recognised as belonging
to Mr. Paas. The floor of the workshop had been recently
washed and scoured, but was still stained with the marks of
some dark fluid. On the table was a receipt from Paas in-
completely signed, and it was surmised that he had been
struck down, probably by a bookbinder's mallet, as he was
seated writing.
The chief interest attaching to this ghastly story is in the
obvious difficulties encountered by Cook in burning the body.
The fireplace had been enlarged by the removal of a couple
of bricks, and two large iron bars had been fixed on top to
serve as a gridiron. The remains, although they presented
a charred, misshapen, and most unsightly mass, were only
partially consumed.
Cook had been arrested on suspicion, but then released on
bail, and now he had absconded. It is a curious illustration
of the incomplete methods of those days (1832) that the
pursuit of the supposed criminal was left to the relatives of
the deceased. The solicitors of the Paas family apphed to
Bow Street for the assistance of a couple of runners, and a
warrant was entrusted to one of them for execution. Cook
was traced on the road to Liverpool ; he had been met on the
tramp, trying to dispose of a watch and chain, to get change
for five-pound notes. At Liverpool he was on the point of taking
ship for America, but was cleverly and boldly arrested by a
Leicester officer in an open boat, just as he had put out to sea.
Cook was duly executed in front of the gaol at Leicester,
and his body was afterwards hung in chains on the outskirts
of the town, one of the last occasions of this barbarous custom
of exposing the bodies of great criminals.
BOLAM.
Much mystery surrounded another case, that of Bolam, in
Newcastle. Murder was committed beyond all doubt ; it is
480 DISPOSAL OF THE CORPUS DELICTI.
equally certain that there was an attempt to conceal the crime
by conflagration. In the middle of the night of the 7th of
December, 1839, the alarm was raised that the Newcastle
Savings Bank was on fire. Help was sent instantly, and with
the prompt use of engines the fire was extinguished. When
all danger had passed, the premises were entered to ascertain
the extent of the mischief. One of the first sights that met
the eye was the body of the clerk of the bank, extended life-
less on the floor of his ofiice. His skull had been smashed
in, his brains lay scattered about the floor, and — plain
evidence of foul play — his pockets were filled with coal.
The body, obviously, was to have been burnt with the
house, and the coals were so placed to assist consumption.
Another strange discovery was made in the very next
room. There lay the actuary of the bank, Mr. Bolam, in-
sensible, and bleeding from wounds in his throat. The latter
were but trifling, however, and he was soon sufficiently
recovered to give his account of the catastrophe.
Bolam declared that he had received several threatening
letters warning him of danger impending. He had returned
home in the evening to take his tea, and on looking into the
office had seen the clerk, as he thought, lying asleep on the
hearthrug. Next minute he was himself attacked by a man
with a blackened face, who struck him down and applied a
knife to his throat. He remembered no more.
Bolam's story was not believed. There had been no
robbery of the bank. Only a few of the books were missing,
but the key of the safe had disappeared, also a large sum in
gold, and both were subsequently found in Bolam's private
residence. The wounds upon his person were only slight,
there was no blood on the spot where he had been found
lying, and that which stained his clothes had flowed down
them, indicating a wound inflicted while he was in an
upright or sitting posture. Further suspicion was thrown
upon him by the disappearance of three of his account
books.
At the inquest, a verdict of wilful murder was brought
against Bolam, and he was tried for his life. It was brought in
COMBUSTION. 481
manslaughter, and the only plausible theory of the crime was
that expounded by the judge, who suggested to the jury that
some quarrel had arisen between Bolam and the clerk,
and that the former, in a fit of fury, had assaulted the latter
with a poker, and killed him. " This view," said Mr. Baron
Maule, " furnishes motives quite sufficient for the fire, as well
as for the other facts." It was then explained how Bolam, if
he really started the fire, meant to escape from its effects. He
clearly did not think it would be only a partial fire, or he
would not have filled his victim's pockets with coals. The
only hypothesis is that he hoped to be rescued in an early
stage of the burning.
MENESCLOU.
Menesclou's name is still remembered with horror in
France, for not only was his crime of the most atrocious
character, but his conduct before and after marks him as
one of the vilest miscreants that ever disgraced human nature.
The date of his offence is 1880, somewhat anterior to the
development of the science of criminal anthropology, but he
might have been adduced by Lombroso as a complete type of
the " born criminal." He exhibited aU the physical traits
attributed to that strange phenomenon of our race, the low,
receding forehead, protruding chin, thin beard, shifting eye ;
it might have been said he was half an idiot, and this was
set up in his defence, but the medical evidence distinctly
credited him with full mental responsibility.
Yet it is perfectly obvious that there was arrested mental
development. From his early childhood he had been a curse
to his parents. He was persistently, wickedly ill-conducted,
expelled from school after school. He robbed his father, beat
his mother ; at sixteen he was packed off into the naval
service, and he had but just returned after three years' service
when he committed the stupid, useless crime.
The small child of five who was his victim, he cajoled
with sweetmeats and a bunch of fresh violets. She was last
seen entering his room, but he denied all knowledge of what
had become of her. The poor mother, a prey to increasing
P F
482 DISPOSAL OF THE CORPUS DELICTI.
anxiety as the hours passed, repeatedly asked Menesclou if he
had seen her, and his answer was always a most self-possessed
negative. At that moment she was Ijdng murdered in his
room, the room where he spent much of his time in making
extracts from books of poetry, choosing such harmless morsels
as " Good-day ! " " Spring," or " At the time of the cherries."
He had concealed the smaU corpse in a cavity made in his
mattress, and had actually slept on the bed.
The discovery came next day, led up to by the usual
horrible indications ; overpowering nauseous odours that filled
the whole house, a strong smell of burning. When the police
were summoned, the commissary sent a workman up a ladder
on to the roof Menesclou's lodging was a garret with a dormer
window. Through this the workman saw him at his stove,
with the tongs in his hand, feeding a fierce fire with very
suspicious-looking fuel. The miscreant seemed perfectly self-
possessed, and was quietly smoking a cigarette.
On his trial he preserved the same terrible sangfroid, until
the indignation of the public broke forth so fiercely that he
responded furiously, " Well, you can do just the same tome!"
He was executed after conviction.
PEL AND DUBOIS DE BIANCO.
Pel, the watchmaker of MontreuH, is another miscreant
that looms large in recent French criminal records. His
crimes do not exactly faU within this branch of my subject,
as he was a poisoner, and the deeds of the poisoners wiU
demand a section to themselves. But in the disposal of at
least one of his victims, he sought the assistance of fire, and he
found the difficulty I have mentioned in other cases. He used
an ordinary stove, and experiments were made by eminent
French doctors with a stove of similar pattern. They affirmed
that complete combustion was not effected for forty hours.
The evidence against Pel was chiefly circumstantial, but it
was supported by the usual suspicious indications. A blazing
fire kept up continuously in the dog days, strong odours, the
discovery of a large heap of ashes in the grate.
I have already referred to the Chevalier Dubois de Bianco's
M. DUBOIS BE BIANCO. 483
case, as one of the most interesting of police stories, and will
now give it at some length.
It was on the 2nd of December, 1871, in the morning
about half-past seven, that the large mansion in Brussels,
occupied by M. Dubois de Bianco alone, was seen to be on fire.
He was an old gentleman of miserly habits but large means,
and his house stood at the angle of the two streets, Brederode
and Theresienne. The fire was got under; it had never
extended beyond the chevalier's bedroom, but therein its
efifects had been fatal. M. Dubois de Bianco was found dead
in his bed; the body much charred by fire, but in the
opinion of the doctors called in, his death had been due to
asphyxiation from the smoke.
When the police arrived, their inquiries elicited the fact
that the deceased was given to the bad habit of smoking in
bed. He had been known, moreover, occasionally to exceed
in drink. This was the evidence of his own servants, Germans,
one a most confidential person who had served his master for
more than twenty years.
The explanation was accepted as perfectly satisfactory.
The report of the police was "death from natural causes."
Seals were attached to the safe and wardrobes containing
personal effects, pending the arrival of the heirs, who were not
in Brussels at the time ; the funeral took place, and the
whole incident was seemingly at an end.
Ten days after the accident, M. Dubois de Bianco's
daughter — who inherited his fortune — his notary, and another
executor attended to witness the removal of the seals, and
take over all property and valuables in the house. These
were kept, as the notary well knew, in the deceased's dressing-
room in a fireproof safe. This safe was a " combination " safe,
and as the deceased chevalier trusted no one with the secret
of the letters that worked the lock, the assistance of a smith
to break it open would no doubt be necessary.
But at the first inspection it was seen that the safe was
not securely closed. A single turn of the key sufiiced to open
the door. Moreover, when the interior was laid bare, it was
found that the safe was almost empty. There were only a
481 DISPOSAL OF THE CORPUS DELICTI.
couple of hundred odd shares and 165 francs in cash remain-
ing in this secure receptacle, where M. Dubois de Bianco was
known to keep the great bulk of his securities.
Here was substantial ground for suspicion. Closer exam-
ination afforded more distinct evidence. In one comer of the
safe, concealed by a slight projection of the iron wall, lay
a small parcel of coupons, twenty-three in number, of the
Company Marcinelle at Couillet, which were due for payment
on the 1st of October, the day preceding the chevalier's
decease. This 1st of October was a Sunday, and pajTnent
would therefore be delayed to the 2nd. But the shares to
which these coupons had belonged, and from which they had
undoubtedly been detached by the deceased, had disappeared.
They must have been stolen : that was plain and obvious.
The chevalier could not have sold them before the 1st of
October ; if so he would have sold the coupons with them,
and they would also have disappeared. The shares were still
his property on the day preceding his death ; he had merely
cut off the coupons to cash them next day. Meanwhile he
had met his death, and some one — his murderer ? — had
carried off the shares but overlooked the coupons.
Another small document was also found in the safe,
a precious scrap of paper for the detection, a dangerous clue
unconsciously left by the criminaL
M. Dubois de Bianco was a man of method. He kept an
exact record of the whole of his securities, their description,
value, the dates on which interest feU due, and the amounts
actually received for many years. The whole of these stocks
and shares had disappeared, also a large quantity of Prussian
bank-notes, with a considerable sum in gold and silver thalers,
the whole of which he had recently received from Germany.
The fact of robbery was now established beyond dispute.
There was strong presumption, too, that foul play had accom-
panied the crime. An inquiry was forthwith ordered, and
a high judicial functionary proceeded to conduct it on the
scene of the supposed crime.
The fire, as has been said, had been limited to the bed-
room, and it had raged most fiercely around the bed. Close
OLUES TO THE MY8TEBT. 485
by this bed hung the remains of a bell-rope communicating
with the room above, in which slept the valet. Could the
asphyxiation have been so rapid as to have quite prevented
the deceased from summoning assistance ? A brass candle-
stick almost completely melted was found in the bed. How
could it have got there ? Had it not been used to ignite the
curtains ? Was not this a more probable explanation of the
fire than the cigar ash of the careless chevalier ? Besides, the
proper place for this candlestick would be on the pedestal
table by the bedside. This table was intact; it had been
almost spared by the fire.
The chief piece of furniture in the bedroom was a large
wardrobe with muTors on the doors. These glasses were
cracked. Inside the wardrobe it was found that the smoke
and the greasy constituents of the flame had deposited a
thick black powder which lay on every object. When any-
thing was lifted, it left beneath a clear, clean impression —
white on a black ground. One article in particular had lain
upon a pocket-handkerchief stained black by the smoke-dust.
This was the key of the iron safe.
On taking up this key it was found to be without its
sheath. It had not been covered with its sheath before or
during the fire. This was proved plainly, because the imprint
of the key upon the handkerchief showed distinctly the two
small shts seen so often near the orifice of a safety key. It
was a natural sequitwr then that the key had been lying in
the wardrobe during the progress of the fire. The inference
was obvious : someone before the fire had taken the key from
the wardrobe, had used it without its sheath, and, stiU without
it, had replaced the key in the wardrobe.
Where then was the sheath? It was remembered now
that at the time of placing the seals, on the day of the first
discovery— the 2nd of October, that is to say — this sheath had
been found lying outside on the top of the safe. Another
fact was remembered of this date : that the authorities, wish-
ing to seal up the effects, had been given the safe-key by one
of the servants — the valet, Louis Grohen, who had been the
chevalier's servant for twenty years.
48fi DISPOSAL OF TEE CORPUS DELICTI.
Furthermore, Grohen had produced a bunch of keys, his
master's keys, from his own pocket, and with one of them had
unlocked the wardrobe already described. It was Grohen
who got the safe-key out and handed it over. It was Grohen,
again, who, when the key was applied to the safe to see if
it really belonged to it, declared that it could not be used
without a knowledge of the combination. Some one certainly
had tampered with the lock, some one having a certain but
not complete knowledge of its action.
The last combination used by M. Dubois de Bianco had
been displaced, a new set of letters substituted, but the inter-
lopers had forgotten to give a double turn to the lock. This
proved that they thought it sufficient to disarrange the letters,
not knowing that the key would open the lock if " on the
single " without the combination.
Grave suspicion now began to rest upon the two servants
who alone resided with the deceased. Various remarks made
by them were now remembered to their discredit. One had
declared that M. Dubois de Bianco was capable of burning his
securities sooner than let his fortune pass to his daughter,
whom he hated. Another hinted darkly that that daughter's
husband, M. Duval de Beaulieu, had been the first to open
the safe, and that he had stolen the securities as well as a
will which the servants believed had been made in their
favour. One of them told two stories as to the events of
the night. It was he who slept above the deceased who
at first declared he had heard nothing, and then admitted
that the beU had rung and a pistol-shot had been fired.
Another suspicious fact was the disappearance of a pocket-
book from the safe, in which the deceased entered the details
of his property. Grohen, the servant, knew of the existence
of this pocket-book and what it contained; indeed, he had
spoken of it to the police. But its removal — if by design, as
was nearly certain— was nullified by the discovery of the
scrap of paper containing the very same information.
These suspicions were not, however, deemed sufficient to
arrest the two servants, and both presently left Brussels.
Viander returned to his native place in Germany ; Grohen
THE CASE AGAINST THE SERVANTS. 487
Stayed lor a time in Brussels, then went, about Decennber, to
Sielsdorf, in Prussia. While there he received a letter from
a friend warning him to be on his guard ; that inquiries were
being made for him, and for Stupp.
This was the first mention of the name Stupp, the first
reference to an individual who was now to fill a large space
in the mystery.
Stupp was an intimate friend of both Grohen and
Viander. He was known also to M. Dubois de Bianco, having
married the daughter of one of the chevaher's tenants in
Germany, and taken over the farm on his own account.
Stupp was a wastrel, who had spent his wife's portion, had
failed to pay his rent, and had been ejected from the
farm. M. Dubois had forbidden his servants to have any
dealings with him. Yet this Stupp, when he came to
Brussels, had been made secretly welcome in M. Dubois de
Bianco's house, kept there for a week, altogether unknown
to its master.
Stupp's movements in Brussels were subsequently traced
with exactitude. He lodged at various places, always miserably
poor, trying various kinds of work and succeeding in none.
He spoke often of M. Dubois de Bianco and always in the
bitterest terms. Towards the end of September he talked of
leaving for England ; he only awaited frmds which he expected
to a considerable amount from Germany. On the night of
the 1st of October he left his lodgings suddenly, abandoning
his baggage, such as it was. That was the night of the fire
in the Rue Brederode.
Now Stupp was lost sight of for a time. The inquiry
languished ; it was only revived by the good news that some
of the stolen securities had come into the market. The
names and numbers had been industriously circulated hj
the police, and all the bankers and brokers were on the
qui vive. Early in February, several coupons belonging to
certain of the missing shares were presented for payment in
Brussels, and traced back through Antwerp to London, and
then to New York. Other correspondence and the shares
themselves were presently seized in New York, and it was
488 BI8F08AL OF THE CORPUS DELICTI.
clearly seen tliat a portion at least of the stolen property was
being realised in the United States.
Instructions were despatched at once to New York to trace,
if possible, the person who had been concerned in this trans-
action, and arrest him. He was taken, and although he was
under another name, his description taUied exactly with that
of the missiag Stupp.
Grohen was soon afterwards arrested in Brussels, and steps
were taken to secure the extradition of Stupp. The case
seemed black against the accused. Stupp had no doubt com-
mitted the robbery, and was cognisant of, if not the actual
author of the murder. He could not have got into the house
without the connivance of the servants; to have climbed
the walls or entered surreptitiously was proved impossible.
He could not have opened the safe except by force. This
was unnecessary, as both the servants, according to clear
testimony, were in possession of the letters that worked
the combination.
Had Stupp worked alone, he would have forced the safe
and laid his hands on the whole of the contents. He would
hardly have been suspected, for his presence in Brussels at
that time was not known, nor for many weeks later. If he,
and he alone, had been the thief and murderer, all the pre-
cautions taken to re-arrange the combination, put the safe-key
back into the wardrobe would have been unnecessary; nor
would it have been necessary to set fire to the bed hangings
so as to suggest the chevalier's accidental death.
In due course, Grohen, the only one in custody, was sent
before the assize court charged with the triple crime of theft,
incendiarism and murder. But the evidence against him was
not deemed conclusive ; the fact that death was due to foul
play and not to misadventure was not proved to the satisfac-
tion of the jury, and Grohen was acquitted.
Two years later, after many tedious formalities, Strupp was
extradited and sent back to Belgium. He had been in custody
for three years in the United States, but was now surrendered
to stand his trial. His defence when arraigned was to throw
the crime upon Viander, who had brought him the stolen
TRIAL OF ACCUSED. 489
securities with sufficient money to take him across the Atlantic,
where he was to dispose of them. In order to test this
allegation, the presiding judge issued a safe-conduct for
Viander, who was in Germany beyond pursuit, if he would
consent to appear in court.
So Viander, who was now serving in the German army,
came and was confronted with Stupp. As he also was an
accused, he could not be sworn, but his testimony was taken
and apparently believed. He indignantly denied the state-
ments made by Stupp, whose guilt was presently made clear ;
he was convicted and sentenced to death, but did not suffer
the extreme penalty.
DISTKIBUTION AFTER DISMEMBERMENT.
A common behef with the murderer who has had recourse
to dismemberment is that he will evade detection by distri-
buting the fragments at wide intervals apart. This was clearly
in the mind of Greenacre, who murdered Hannah Brown in
1836, a mysterious crime which startled all London, and re-
mained undiscovered for nearly three months. On the 28th
of December a bricklayer found a package, enveloped in coarse
cloth or sacking, concealed behind a paving-stone, on the road
to Kilburn, and lying in a pool of fi'ozen blood. The place
was close to the Pine Apple toll-bar. The contents of the
package proved to be the trunk of a female, the arms
still intact, the head and legs dissevered. This was wrapped
up in a piece of blue-printed cotton, part of a child's
frock, much worn. There was nothing likely to lead to
identification, except a peculiar malformation, with signs in
the hands and arms, that indicated that deceased had led a
laborious life. Ten days later a head was picked up in the
Regent's Canal, Stepney, at the lock known as "Ben
Johnson's." The lockman had met with an obstruction in
letting a barge through the gates, and using his " hitcher " or
boat-hook, had brought up a human head.
It was subjected to medical examination, when in addition
to the bruises and lacerations probably caused by the lockman
in recovering it, a severe bruise was found over one eye, that
490 DISPOSAL OF THE GOBPUS DELICTI.
must have been inflicted during life. It further appeared that
the head had been very rudely severed from the body, the
cervical vertebrae had been sawn through quite roughly, and
it was thus connected with the mutilated trunk already found
in the Edgware Road. The saw-marks fitted in exactly, and
the head and body were evidently parts of the same individual
in life. Still, no one came forward to identify the head which,
as in the Hayes case, was handed over to the surgeon, to be
preserved in spirits of wine.
Two months more elapsed before the rest of the body was
unearthed. A labourer cutting osiers in the neighbourhood
of Cold Harbour Lane, CamberweU, saw a large bundle lying
half immersed in the water of a ditch. On raising it, he found
a human toe protruding, and calling assistance, the package
was opened, and exhibited a pair of human legs. When
applied to the parts already discovered, they proved to belong
to the human frame discovered in the Edgware Road. These
three discoveries had entirely falsified the murderer's calcula-
tion ; he had lodged them purposely at points far distant from
one another, and yet they had been picked up, compared
without difiSculty, pieced together, and constituted umistak-
able evidence of heinous crime against persons unknown.
Yet three more weeks passed before the remains were
identified. A man named Gay, of Goodge Street, Tottenham
Court Road, asked for permission to view the remains. He
had lost sight of a sister, whose married name was Brown,
for several months. She had not been seen or heard of since
the day before Christmas Day. When he examined the
severed head, he pronounced it at once and unhesitatingly
to be that of Hannah Brown. Several people corroborated
this declaration, and -thus at last the first step was made
towards detection.
The police soon ascertained that the woman Brown had
been last seen in company with a man named Greenacre, to
whom she was about to be married. She had gone to dine
with him on Christmas Eve at his house in Carpenter's
Buildings, CamberweU, and never returned. That same night
Greenacre came to her old lodgings to ask for her, saying the
GBEENAGBE. 491
marriage was broken off, that she had deceived him about the
value of her property. He appeared angry and agitated.
Three days later he went to the brother and told him he had
quarrelled with Hannah, that she had left his house, and that
he did not know what had become of her.
Greenacre was arrested with his supposed accomplice, a
woman named Gale, and not a moment too soon. His boxes
were corded up, some had already gone on board ship, and
he was on the point of embarking for America. The trunks
seized were examined, and many incriminating articles found ;
among them the remnants of an old cotton dress, correspond-
ing in pattern and condition with the pieces in which the body
was wrapped, when found in Edgware Road.
Several circumstances told against Greenacre. Noises of
scuffling and fighting were heard in his room on Christmas
Eve. On Boxing Day Mrs. Gale came, and the place was
thoroughly washed out. Two days later Greenacre was seen
leaving the premises carrying a blue merino bag, and the
following week he moved house altogether. The rooms he
vacated smelt strongly of brimstone, and had evidently been
fumigated. It was sworn that the outer covering of the
Edgware Road parcel was a sack stolen by Greenacre from a
shop in Tottenham Court Road, the shopman having identified
it by the shavings still inside, and the cord with which the
mouth was closed.
Greenacre was eventually found guilty, and he made a
strenuous effort to exonerate the woman Gale, but she was
also convicted. Greenacre's first stol-y was that he had kiUed
Hannah Brown by inadvertence, having playfully tilted over a
chair in which she was rocking herself But before execution
he confessed that he became furious at her false statements in
regard to her property, that he seized a rolling-pin and struck
her with it over the eye. To his horror he found that he had
killed her, and then knowing he would be charged with the
murder, he began to consider how he might screen himself
from the consequences. A variety of methods suggested them-
selves, but he at last decided on dismemberment and the
distribution of the pieces. The head he carried out first.
492 III8P08AL OF TEE CORPUS DELICTI.
wrapped in a silk handkercliief, and with this ghastly bundle
on his knees he travelled by omnibus from Camberwell to
Gracechurch Street. Then changing into a Mile End 'bus he
reached Stepney, and following the course of the Regent's
Canal on foot, he " shot the head fr'om the handerchief into the
water," at the lock. Early on the morning of the 26th of
December, he again applied himself to his loathsome task,
and, having severed the legs, packed them in a sack and took
them to the osier-bed in Cold Harbour Lane. There remained
the trunk, and this he wrapped up as best he could, then
shouldering the heavy bundle, he went out, still uncertain
where he should deposit this last vestige of his crime. A
carrier's cart passed, and the driver gave him a lift as far
as Newington, where Greenacre, thinking the progress
made too slow, took a hackney cab, and was driven to the
Edgware Road. The bundle he hid under the seat until they
reached the Pine Apple toU-gate, where he alighted and
walked on towards Eolburn, tiU he found a suitable place of
concealment for the sack. All this he did in broad daylight,
feeling in his own mind more safe in working thus openly than
under cover of the night. At the end of all he was careful to
destroy his handkerchief and all other possible clues. But, as
we have seen, he could not escape his fate.
Greenacre wrote his autobiography while in the con-
demned cell, after the manner of more fashionable mur-
derers. His chief object was to show that he had always
been an industrious, respectable person, temperate in his
habits, abhorring the public-house, a kindly master, long-
suffering to his debtors, esteemed in his locality, and elected
by an overwhelming majority to the office of overseer of his
parish. His business was that of a grocer, and he had so
prospered that he owned a fair amount of house property in
Camberwell. He was a man of strong, even violent pohtical
bias, and was said to have been concerned in the famous Cato
Street conspiracy. He may not have deliberately premedi-
tated the murder, but his cold-blooded atrocity in dealing
with the remains betrayed his truculent character, which was
further illustrated by his strange conduct in endeavouring to
A GERMAN CASE. 493
enter into another marriage soon after the murder. He had
advertised in the Times, of the 23rd of January, for a partner
with £300 to join him in patenting a newly-invented washing
machine, and amongst the replies was one from a lady of
undoubted respectability. A correspondence followed, in which
Greenacre made "propositions of honourable nature to one
whom he might prefer as a companion for life." The proposal
was not accepted, happily for the lady in question. Greenacre
had an eye to business, and his victim, Hannah Brown, was
supposed to have amassed considerable savings. The woman
Gale, Greenacre's accomplice, was sentenced to transportation
for life.
Rauschmeier.
Let me diverge for a moment to Germany. The criminal
records of Bavaria record dismemberment at a still earlier
date. A murder was perpetrated in Augsburg in 1821 which
exhibits many of the usual details of short-sighted brutality.
It is to be included, too, among those which might not
have been brought home but for the over-ruling action of
Chance.
Maria Anna Holzmann lived in the house of a shoemaker
of Augsburg, and sublet part of her lodging to two ne'er-do-
wells named Rauschmeier and Stiener. She was an old char-
woman, a careful and industrious body, who was supposed to
have saved money. One day she disappeared, so did her two
lodgers. The date was the 12th of April, yet the landlord
gave no notice to the police until the 17th of May that the
woman was missing.
Holzmann's relatives, accompanied by a magistrate, went
to secure her effects, but found that the best part of her
property was missing. Moreover, the lodging was filled with
overpoweringly nauseous odours.
Yet no further search was made then. It was supposed
that Holzmann had committed suicide, her rooms remained
unoccupied and nothing more transpired till the following
January. Then another lodger, who had gone up to the loft
adjoining Holzmann's rooms to hang up linen, discovered
parts of a human body. The alarm was given, and other
494 DISPOSAL OF THE CORPUS DELIOTI.
portions were found — some among the heap of rubbish in the
comer of the loft ; more, six yards distant, wedged in between
the chimney and the roof. Near at hand were an old gown,
a petticoat, and a red neckerchief, all much stained with
blood.
The strangest discovery of all was made in taking up the
floor of the room Rauschmeier had occupied. Here were
more remains, among them the left arm, bent double and
wrapped up in an old shift. When later the doctors, in their
efforts to reconstitute the body, tried to straighten this arm, a
brass ring fell out of the bend of the elbow, where it had been
held tight hitherto by the muscular contraction.
This ring was a tell-tale — a silent but still convincing
witness to the crime. It was assumed, and rightly, that it
belonged to one of the murderers, and that it had slipped off
his linger while he was engaged in cutting up the body.
There was no difficulty in identifying the corpse as that of
Holzmann. The head was not in the possession of the poHce,
although it was supposed that it had been seen in the weir of
a factory adjoining the house in which Holzmann lived. The
factory inspector had fished it out, shown it to his brother,
and then thrown it back into the running water, by which it
had been carried off. From his description and the scanty
number of teeth it was believed to be Holzmann's head.
More positive evidence was afforded by the remains. The
deceased exhibited the peculiarity that one foot, the right,
was thicker than the left, and that one of her toes had been
removed.
Suspicion at once rested upon the men Stiener and
Rauschmeier. The fact that both had continued to reside tor
some days in the house without giving notice of Holzmann's
disappearance, and tihat they had then absconded, went very
much against them. Rauschmeier, too, was detected in
disposing of much of Holzmann's property. He admitted the
theft, and the astute judge did not press the accusation of
murder. So, when various articles of Holzmann's dress were
exhibited, Rauschmeier admitted that he had stolen them.
When he saw certain ear-rings, gold rings, and a brass ring, he
THE TELL-TALE RING. 495
admitted to having taken the first, but declared that the last
was his ovm property.
" See ! " he cried, " it fits my little finger, easily, too easily.
It must have slipt off, somehow, somewhere."
This naive acknowledgment ruined him. He was con-
victed by the tell-tale ring.
Stiener, who was half-witted, made a long rambUng con-
fession charging Rauschmeier with the crime, and admitting
his own comphcity. The confession was proved to be a tissue
of lies, and eventually Stiener was held to be exonerated by
Eauschmeier's statements and was acquitted.
Eauschmeier was convicted and duly executed.
END OF VOLUME I.
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