A Reporter’s Unpleasant Duty: Attending Executions at HM Prison Gloucester

GJ25Feb1933

Gloucester reporter E. Kendall Pearson, pictured in the Gloucester Journal, 23 Feb 1933. (British Newspaper Archive)

In June 1935, preparations were being made at Gloucester Prison to carry out the execution of Arthur Franklin, who had murdered his former lover, Gladys Nott, at Hanham Woods, near Bristol. This prompted a former Gloucester journalist, Edward Kendall Pearson (known as E. Kendall Pearson), to write in The Citizen about his experiences attending executions in the 1890s. His recollections appeared in the column ‘Gloucester Day By Day: Views and Gossip For the Tea Table’, on 24 June 1935, the day before Franklin was executed.

The earliest execution Pearson had witnessed on behalf of The Citizen newspaper had taken place ‘on a grey March morning, 42 years ago’. [Albert Manning was hanged on 16 March 1893, for murdering his former lover at Kingswood, near Bristol.] This execution, Pearson said, attracted unusual public attention because the accused ‘feigned madness with so much cleverness as to puzzle the experts in lunacy who had him under observation’. Also, after the event, a London newspaper reported that the man was hanged ‘in sight of his open grave’. This led to a question being raised in the House of Commons. During the trial, Manning had been a ‘hunched-over dwarfish figure’. After being sentenced, his mother visited him in the condemned cell, and from then on, he started to talk and behave rationally. Pearson was amazed, when standing near the gallows on the morning of the execution, to see approaching his doom ‘not a dwarfish, hunched-over figure, but a much taller man than the occupant of the dock had seemed to be’.

Regarding the open grave story, the prison governor, Major Knox, had been furious at the statement, and invited several journalists, including Pearson, to replicate the walk from the condemned cell to the gallows taken by Manning, to prove that he could not have seen his grave. Pearson described ‘walking in the steps of the condemned man, from near the cell, down a flight of winding stairs, like a belfry, into the open yard and  right up to the gallows’.

In the same year, Pearson attended another execution, ‘rendered all the more sensational by the prisoner addressing some farewell words to the reporters as he came in sight of the scaffold’. [Frederick Wyndham, who shot and killed his father, was hanged 21 Dec 1893.] He was reported to have said, ‘I wish you all goodbye. I should have liked to have killed that whore [his father’s mistress] before I die’.

The attendance of newspaper reporters at executions came to an end at Gloucester Prison in 1912, when a special execution chamber was built on the end wall of A Wing, which was too small to admit anyone other than the prisoner, the executioner, and a few officials. Pearson noted that the execution of Franklin would take place in this chamber, ‘a room adjoining the condemned cell, on the same floor as the Prison Chapel’.

Pearson’s recollections prompted a former colleague of his, Paul Francillon, to continue the subject in his column in the Gloucester Journal, ‘St John’s Lane and It’s Memories: Glancing Back Over the Years’, which appeared on 29 June 1935. Pearson had made no mention of his personal feelings about attending executions, but Francillon indicated that his friend had found this to be a particularly unpleasant duty. Regarding his time working at The Citizen, Francillon said that he had never had to do this task, so had no ‘gruesome memories’ of executions in Gloucester Gaol, unlike his friend Kendall Pearson. His [Francillon’s] nerves might have better stood the ordeal of attendance in pursuit of professional duty, as Pearson found it ‘utterly repugnant’. Francillon was glad that he had never been instructed to attend an execution, because, he asserted, he would have ‘mutinied’ rather than being ‘the unwitting instrument of ministering to a morbid public taste which happily now belongs to a past age of journalism’.

Francillon recalled that there used to be a fierce competition to be the first paper with the news of the actual executions in the times of which he wrote, 40 or 50 years ago. He remembered the speed with which Pearson got his copy in and ‘the feverish haste with which it was composed and sent to the press, and the despatch of a big issue by a convenient express train to sell on Bristol streets in competition with the Bristol papers, which we did not count half so go-ahead as the lively little Citizen’. Francillon recalled that he had his own work to do in forwarding the production of these ‘Execution Specials’, so although he never witnessed an actual hanging, he had a share of responsibility in passing through what he still regarded as ‘a not very delectable side of journalism’.

When he and Pearson started work at St John’s Lane, there were still many people to whom public executions had been a familiar scene. The attendance of reporters when executioners were withdrawn from public into the gaol [in 1868] marked a transition stage in which reporters acted by proxy for the public. Now it was an ‘almost extinct’ practice for reporters to attend. Instead the newspapers had to rely on documentation – the registration of death and the inquest certificates – for information.

In Francillon’s early days, the public had ‘an avid appetite for the ghastly details’ of an execution. Execution specials in The Citizen usually brought the total day’s issue to a new high record of circulation. Old time publicity was not confined to newspapers. Itinerant vendors sold copies of ‘last dying speeches’, etc, to morbid crowds waiting outside gaols for the black flag to be raised over the gaol gateway. Today [1935], the black flag, the tolling gaol bell and ‘the last dying speech and confession’ were all things of the past.

Looking back at Kendall Pearson’s report on the execution of Albert Manning, which  appeared in The Citizen on 16 March 1893, it is clear that Francillon was correct in his assertion that his colleague did not enjoy this part of his job. After giving all the details of the crime and the trial, he wrote, under the sub-title, ‘THE SCENE AT THE SCAFFOLD. MANNINGS LAST MOMENTS’:

Of all the duties which the reporter whose lot in a county town is called upon to perform in the interests of the paper which he represents and the public, none, perhaps, are more irksome or unpleasant than his attendance at an execution. The “ordeal” must be faced and the Pressman must leave his feelings – if he has any – at home, and proceed to the spot where the unhappy criminal is to end his day, with mind intent on one thing only, and that the absorption of all those impressions of the scene which are necessary to the compilation of a faithful and accurate description of what the public are anxiously waiting to know.

Pearson went on to describe how he arrived at the prison gatehouse with two other local reporters, was taken to his place near the gallows to watch the execution, then ushered forwards to peer down into the pit where the body was hanging, fingers still twitching. An unpleasant duty indeed.

 

Edward Kendall Pearson was on the staff of The Citizen and the Gloucester Journal for 43 years. He joined the newspaper group in 1891, and worked as chief reporter for both newspapers for 33 years, before becoming news editor of The Citizen. He retired in 1932, but continued to contribute to the column ‘Gloucester Day-By-Day’ in The Citizen, as ‘E.K.P.’ He died on 26 May 1946.

Paul Francillon joined the newspaper group at St John’s Lane in 1886. The group published the Gloucester Journal, The Citizen, the Gloucestershire Chronicle and the Gloucester Standard. He was on the editorial staff of The Citizen and the Gloucester Journal for 59 years. By the end of the 19th century, he was the leader writer for The Citizen, and by the time he went into semi-retirement in 1838, he was the Deputy Editor. He continued to write leaders and columns until his death, on 25 April 1945.

Sources

Newspapers all accessed on British Newspaper Archive, www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk, 21-24 May 2018):

Gloucester Journal, 25 Feb 1933, 29 June 1935

The Citizen, 16 March 1893, 24 June 1935, 30 April 1945 (report on Francillon’s funeral)

Gloucestershire Echo, 27 May 1946 (obituary of E.K. Pearson)

Further Reading (aka Shameless Plugs):

Hanged at Gloucester, by Jill Evans (The History Press, 2011)

A History of Gloucester Prison, 1791-1950, by Jill Evans (Glos Crime History Books, 2017)

 

Advertisements

A sham curate hanged at Gloucester, 1814

In the spring of 1812, the parish church at Newnham-on-Severn was in need of a new curate. The Revd Mr Parsons held the perpetual curacy there, but he resided in Oxford, so he employed a curate to perform his duties in the parish. The former holder of this position had resigned in March 1812, and so Revd Parsons advertised for a replacement. He soon received a response from one Thomas White, a clergyman in his forties, who was sent to Newnham to meet Parsons’ agents, solicitors Thomas Tovey and John James. White told them that he held a living in Ireland, but when they asked to see his credentials, he said that all his papers were still over there and it would take some time for them to be shipped over. Although Tovey and James had some doubts about the new recruit, Parsons had approved of him, so he was allowed to take up his duties at the church, starting on 22 March.

Newnham church

Newnham-on-Severn church (Jill Evans, 2010)

On 17 April, White told the churchwarden, Job Thatcher, that he was short of money. He asked Thatcher if he would give him £30 cash in return for a bill of exchange, bearing the name of a Mr William Jennings, who White said was his agent in Dublin. Thatcher agreed and gave him the cash.

On 15 May, Tovey and James, who had grown increasingly suspicious about White,  demanded to see his references and proof of his qualifications. White said his documents still had not arrived from Dublin and gave the address of Mr Jennings in Dublin, to write to him themselves. Four days later, on 19 May, White disappeared. Shortly afterwards, the bill of exchange the churchwarden had been given was refused payment. In addition, Tovey and James received a letter from Dublin, in which Mr Jennings stated that he knew Thomas White, but was not his agent and had nothing to do with his financial affairs. On making enquiries in Newnham, it was discovered that several parishioners had loaned White money in the short time he had been their curate.

Thomas Tovey and John James were keen to find their sham curate, but it was not until the summer of 1813 that he was sighted on several occasions in Bath, Bristol and Worcestershire. Tovey and James finally caught up with him in Worcester, on 29 November. He was removed from there to the Kings Head in Gloucester, where several of those who had known him as Thomas White came to identify him. He pretended not to recognise any of them, but later admitted to being the person known as Thomas White in Newnham. He said that his real name was Richard Williamson and that he came from Ashley in Wiltshire. It later transpired that his real name was Robert Peacock, but he bore the aliases Thomas White, Richard Williamson, Richard Thomas, William Whitefield and William Whitmore.

While Peacock waited in Gloucester gaol for his trial, more was discovered about what he had been doing in the time between leaving Newnham and being arrested in Worcester. He had gone first to Cornwall, where he had served as a curate under the name Richard Williamson, at the parish of Tailand, near Looe. This time he stayed in the position long enough to marry a respectable young lady, but soon after the marriage, when he had obtained some of her money, he went to London on ‘urgent business’. Not long after that, a notice appeared in a Cornwall newspaper, announcing the sudden death of Mr Williamson. The friends of his shocked wife went to the newspaper offices to find out if this was a mistake and were shown a letter which had been sent commissioning the announcement, which they believed was in Williamson’s handwriting.

After that, Peacock abandoned his clerical disguise, and was seen in in Bristol and Bath wearing more colourful clothing and living in some style. A fortnight before his arrest, he drove from Bristol to the King’s Head in Gloucester, with his carriage, horses and servants bedecked in orange ribbons, and announced that the Duke of Wellington had secured a famous victory over Marshal Soult in the Peninsula War, which proved to be completely untrue.

The Cheltenham Chronicle reported on the case under the headline ‘SHAM PARSON’, and commented, ‘It would be difficult to trace this extraordinary character thro’ the various disguises under which he has for several years been preying upon the public.’ The report added that the solicitors Tovey and James had been tracing his steps for the past two months and during that time, they had prevented his marrying two more ‘unsuspecting females’, one of whom lived in Bristol.

During his time in prison, Peacock repaid some of his debts, especially to people he owed in Newnham and in Wiltshire. He certainly could afford to do this, as when he was arrested he had over £150 in cash on his person, and he was found to be worth thousands of pounds in property and stocks. Many people asked to see him in prison, perhaps hoping to identify him as someone who had swindled them in the past, but he refused all visitors. He spent his time teaching scripture to his fellow prisoners and reading books lent to him by the prison chaplain.

Robert Peacock, alias Thomas White, Richard Williamson, Richard Thomas, William Whitefield and William Whitmore, was tried at the Gloucestershire Spring Assizes in April 1814. He was charged with uttering a bill of exchange, with intent to defraud Job Thatcher of Newnham. The prosecution stated that Peacock had passed the bill for £30 when acting as a curate at Newnham. He pretended the money was due to him as a quarter’s stipend for the living he held in Ballyporeen, Ireland. The bill bore the acceptance of William Jennings of Dublin, upon whom it was drawn, and the prosecution stated that this had been forged by Peacock. Jennings appeared as a witness and swore that it was not his writing on the bill.

After a trial lasting five hours, the jury took only a few minutes to find Robert Peacock guilty of forging and uttering the bill of exchange. Forgery was a capital offence, but the judge, Mr Dallas, respited the sentence on Peacock. The defence counsel had raised a point of law concerning the evidence given against him, so Dallas referred the case for the opinion of his fellow judges. Peacock was sent back to Gloucester gaol, to await the next Assizes.

At the start of the Summer Assizes, in August 1814, Robert Peacock was called before Mr Justice Dallas. The judge told Peacock that in his case, ‘the proof was very clear; but your Counsel contended that the facts were not proved in point of law.’ The evidence had been submitted to the Judges, along with the grounds of objection, and ‘their opinion was that no doubt whatever could be entertained of the facts being clearly proved’. Robert Peacock was sentenced to death. The judge said that he would be executed on 3 September, ‘unless the mercy of the Prince Regent be interposed; and great interest is made to implore Royal Clemency on his behalf’.

A Judge’s Report on Peacock’s case was immediately sent to the Home Office, along with four individual petitions, the first being from Peacock himself. His mother, Sarah Peacock, sent two and the other was from the Marquess Camden. A collective petition was also submitted, signed by the prison chaplain and surgeon and four of the Visiting Magistrates. The grounds given for clemency to be shown were that the prosecutor had asked at the trial that the prisoner be shown mercy, the prisoner had an aged mother and three helpless children, he had been behaving well in prison and had been teaching the other prisoners scripture. The judge recommended that Peacock should be shown mercy, but the appeal for clemency failed.

Robert Peacock was hanged on the gatehouse roof of Gloucester prison on 3 September 1814, alongside another convict, George Symes, who had been condemned for horse stealing. The Gloucester Journal reported that Peacock had been counselling Symes in the condemned cells, ‘bringing him from obduracy to a more perfect understanding of the awful change he was about to undergo’.

On the scaffold, Peacock shook hands with Symes and with the executioner. He told the latter that he would find a few shillings in his pocket. On the following day, his body was buried at St Nicholas Church in Westgate Street, Gloucester.

Sources

Gloucester Journal, 11 April, 18 April, 12 August, 5 September, 1814

Cheltenham Chronicle, 9 December 1813

The National Archives, Judges’ Reports, HO47/53/34, 20 August 1814

Gloucestershire Archives, Parish Registers, St Nicholas Gloucester, Burials (P154/15)

This case appears in Hanged at Gloucester, by Jill Evans (The History Press, 2011)

© Jill Evans 2017

 

Buried at the crossroads: William Birt, 1791

William Birt was supposed to be the first person to be hanged on the gatehouse roof of the new Gloucester Prison, which opened in the summer of 1791. However, having been found guilty of murder and condemned to death at the Gloucestershire Assizes in August 1791, he decided not to wait for the executioner, and took his own life in the condemned cell.

The charge of murder against Birt was far from being a straightforward case. Birt was a carpenter, 26 years of age, who lived in Tewkesbury. He had been ‘walking out’ with Sarah Powell, who was a servant maid in the household of a Tewkesbury family. In the spring of 1791, Sarah had discovered that she was pregnant, and William had given her a powder to take, in the hope of inducing a miscarriage. Unfortunately, the powder caused the death of both mother and child.

Sarah Powell had lingered on for eleven days after taking the powder, and so she was able to tell her doctor who had given her the substance and why. After Sarah’s death, William Birt was committed to Tewkesbury Gaol at first, then was removed by habeus corpus to Gloucester, to await trial at the Assizes. This was in April 1791, before the new prison opened, so he was held in the old gaol in Gloucester Castle, where the conditions were terrible. In the last week of July, although the building works were not entirely completed, the new prison was judged to be fit for occupation, and the prisoners were moved from the crumbling old castle keep into their new quarters, where everyone had their own cell in which to sleep. Birt was held in the gaol section of the prison to await his trial, which took place on Friday, 12 August.

Newspaper reports on the trial were not sympathetic to Birt. They said that he had ‘deluded the Deceased under a Promise of Marriage’. When she told him she was pregnant, he gave her a small quantity of a powder, telling her it would do her no harm, but rather would do her good, as he had taken twice as much in the past. Back at her home, she had taken the powder with some sugar, after which she was ‘seized with violent vomitings’, and after lying in agony for eleven days, she died.

It was clear that William Birt had never intended that Sarah Powell should die, so it might have been thought that he would have faced a charge of manslaughter rather than murder. However, the judge explained that, ‘having recommended to her a Medicine to procure abortion, and death ensuing, he was considered as guilty of Murder’. According to a well known principle of English Law, the judge said, ‘where Death ensues in consequence of an illegal Act, Malice is implied, and the offence, with its consequences, is deemed Murder’. Abortion was an illegal act, so Birt was considered to be guilty of murder. The judge added that although Sarah Powell ‘might be an Accomplice with him in the guilty Design’, her account of how Birt had encouraged her to take the powder was enough to ‘fix the crime upon the Man’. The source of the powder had not been discovered, nor exactly what it contained, but the surgeon who attended Sarah Powell was sure it was poisonous and had caused her death.

Birt was said to have remained calm during the trial and when receiving the death sentence, but when he was taken from the Bar, ‘his Confidence forsook him, and he fainted away in the Pen, and as he was conducting away from the Court, he dropped down again in a Fit’. That evening, when he arrived back at the prison, Birt was conducted to a condemned cell to await his execution, which was to take place on the following Monday, 15 August. As he was taken to the cell, he was said to have ‘wrung his hands as in the utmost Misery and Despair’. Next morning, when his cell door was unlocked, he was found hanging and dead. The prison surgeon made a brief note of the incident in his journal: ’13 Aug 1791. William Birt meant to hang on 15 August but hanged himself in cell.’

A Coroner’s Inquest was held later that day. It was said that Birt’s body had been ‘quite cold’ when the cell door had been opened. He had twisted the sheet of his bed and fastened it to the bars of the window, then tied the other end in a running knot round his neck, before throwing himself from his bedstead. The inquest jury returned a verdict of felo de se. This translates roughly as ‘felon of himself’, and the verdict had great significance, as it meant that Birt’s body was ordered to undergo the traditional fate of suicides who were judged to have been of sound mind at the time they took their own lives, which was to be buried at a crossroads, without any Christian service. The Gloucester Journal of 18 August 1791 reported that on that same Saturday, Birt’s body “was buried in a cross road, near Tewkesbury’. The treatment of the bodies of those buried at crossroads varied, but they were supposed to be ‘desecrated’ in some way, such as having a stake put through their body. The newspapers gave no details of what had happened in Birt’s case.

The authorities were keen not to disclose the exact burial places of suicides, so no details were given of the site of Birt’s burial. However, Bennett’s History of Tewkesbury, published in 1830, gives some useful information on the subject:

‘The corpse was sent by order of the coroner, to the parish officers at Tewkesbury, and buried in the cross-road at the entrance into the lane which leads to the Lodge, near the House of Industry’.

The House of Industry, later Tewkesbury Workhouse, was south of the town, on Gloucester Road. An examination of a map of Tewkesbury from 1835 shows that the most likely place of burial is in the area with the lane leading to the Lodge (now Lincoln Green Lane) on the left and a lane to the right just before the House of Industry (which now leads to the cemetery).

 

Tewkesburydetail1835

Detail from a map of Tewkesbury, from Samuel Lewis’s Topographical Dictionary of England 1835. (via GENMAPS website). The ‘House’ is the House of Industry. The burial took place at the crossroads just below that.

 

The reason for burying suicides at crossroads has never been completely clear. The practice took place from at least medieval times, when crossroads were believed to be ‘otherworldly’, God-forsaken, places. (There is an interesting article about the subject here: www.oddlyhistorical.com/2015/09/27/crossroads-suicide-burials.) Whatever the reasons for the practice, it ceased with the passing of the Burial of Suicide Act of 1823. However, taking one’s own life continued to be a criminal act until 1961.

 

Sources

Gloucester Journal, 11 April 1791, 18 August 1791

Bennett’s History of Tewkesbury, 1830, p.214, note (via archive.org)

Gloucestershire Archives:

Gaol Calendars, Easter 1791 (Q/SG1)

Gloucester County Gaol, Surgeon’s Journal, 13 Aug 1791 (Q/Gc32/1)

“A Profane Burial: Why the English Buried Suicides at Crossroads”, 27 Sept 2015, on http://www.oddlyhistorical.com. (Link in the main text above.)

Map of Tewkesbury 1835 from GENMAPS (http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~genmaps/index.html)

© Jill Evans 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

The capture of a highwayman: Daniel Neale, 1763

highwayman

“The King’s Highway”, from Magazine of Art, 1881 (via http://www.ancestry-images.com)

On a night in June 1763, a highwayman rode out to work on the roads between Bath and Tetbury.  He found his first victims at Lansdown, on the outskirts of Bath. A woman returning home from selling butter at Bath market was robbed of her day’s takings, then a collier had three shillings and six pence stolen from him by the man on horseback, who afterwards rode off towards the Monument to Sir Bevil Grenville.

The highwayman found his next victim at Toghill Turnpike, where he came across a  gentleman’s servant who was just paying the keeper in order to pass. The robber ordered the keeper to go inside and shut the door, warning him that otherwise he would blow his brains out, and saying that he would receive the gentleman’s payment. He then relieved the servant of a considerable sum of money.

Continuing on the road towards Tetbury, the highwayman overtook another gentleman’s servant, but instead of robbing him, he travelled with him to Petty France, where they fed their horses and took refreshments in an inn, before setting out together again. However, when they reached a parting point in the road, the highwayman suddenly pointed a pistol at the other man’s chest and demanded his money and watch. The highwayman rode off down the road towards Gloucester and the servant returned to the inn and asked the landlord to help him pursue the robber. The two men set off together and got within 200 yards of the highwayman, but he jumped his horse over a stone wall and got away.

This was not the end of the highwayman’s adventures that night. He next encountered a man described as a pig-killer of Wickwar, who kept the Sign of the Crown public house there. The robber demanded the man’s money and he replied that he only had four shillings and six pence on him. The highwayman then wanted the man’s pocket watch. The man refusing to hand it over, the robber tried to snatch it from him, but the chain snapped, leaving him holding only the chain and seal. Snarling that the man was an “obstinate dog”, he drew his pistol from under his coat and fired, lodging five slugs into his victim’s right breast. While some newspaper reports said the man had died as a result of his wounds, the Bath Chronicle stated that he was still alive, but not expected to recover.

Whether or not the highwayman wore a handkerchief around his face when committing his crimes was not reported, but during his time spent at the inn in Petty France, the landlord had got a good look at him and was able to give a detailed description. He was described as being a short young man, much pitted with smallpox, who was wearing a brown Surtout coat. He was “well-mounted” on a dark-brown horse which was blind in one eye. It was also said that his saddle had one new stirrup and one old.

The highwayman probably lay low for a few weeks after his prolific night of robberies, but at the end of July, it was reported that Mr Samuel Rudder, the well-known printer and bookseller of Cirencester, had been robbed of three guineas and his watch, not far from the town, by “a single highwayman, well-mounted”. On the same morning, several other people were robbed by the same man. At about noon on that same day, a man rode up to a blacksmith’s shop in Chalford Bottom to have his horse shod. While he was waiting, several people on seeing him thought he answered the description given of the man who had shot someone on the Bath Road about three weeks before. He was seized, and in his pockets were found a brace of pistols loaded with stones and bits of lead, and about eight guineas in money. He was taken to a magistrate, who committed him to the care of the constable, who took him to the George Inn at Bisley, to be held there until he could be taken to Gloucester Gaol.

The sensation of a highwayman being taken into custody attracted a crowd, which followed the constable and robber to the George Inn. One of the men who had been robbed that morning went into the room where the highwayman was eating his supper, and declared that this was the man who had robbed him. The robber asked him if he would swear to that, and when the man replied that he would, he took the knife with which he was eating his supper and cut his own throat with it. He did not succeed in killing himself, but was too ill to be taken to Gloucester Gaol immediately, so was kept under the care of the Bisley constable until he recovered.

In the meantime, the newspapers announced that the miscreant was named Daniel Neale, and he was a cloth-worker, living at Frome in Somerset. The mare he rode was the property of the landlord of the Black Swan at Frome Field, but it wasn’t stolen; Neale had hired the mare on several occasions. He had lately shown watches and considerable sums of money to his workmates, telling them that if they would hearken to him they might get a deal of money with much more ease than working at their business. Neale was from Gloucestershire, but had lived at Frome for some time and had married a local girl, who kept a shop there. It was believed that he had committed many robberies between Cirencester, Malmesbury and Tetbury.

In August, the County Assizes began in Gloucester, and Daniel Neale had recovered enough to take his trial. He was charged with robbing Mr Rudder, of Cirencester, Printer, and another person. (The pig-killer from Wickwar must have lived, otherwise Neale would have been on a murder charge.) He was found guilty and sentenced to be hanged. The Gloucester Journal reported that Neale had said that he had taken to highway robbery a few weeks before Easter, with accomplices, whose names he did not disclose, but said they lived near Frome. They “took to the Highway” in order to supply themselves with “Cash for the Cockpit and the Alehouse”.  They had committed many robberies and had also cut cloth from Clothiers Racks. They had formed a grand scheme, which was to have been carried out as soon as good horses, pistols, etc, could be procured. In order to avoid accurate descriptions being given, they had planned to meet every night and exchange clothes and horses.

Some accounts of the executions of highwaymen portray them as heroes who go bravely to the gallows, swaggering and welcoming death. Daniel Neale did not meet his end in such a way. He was executed at Over, near Gloucester, on 26 August 1763, alongside a thief called Richard Johnson. The Gloucester Journal reported that Neale, “expressed Terror at the Approach of Death, and seemed to think his Sins had been too great to be expiated by so short a Repentance, and prolonged the Moment in which he was to be turned off to the very last”.

 

Sources

Gloucester Journal, 1, 15, 22 and 29 August 1763 (at Gloucestershire Archives)

Bath Chronicle, 7 July, 4 Aug, 1 Sept 1763; Derby Mercury, 29 July, 12 Aug 1763; Oxford Journal, 9, 30 July 1763 (British Newspaper Archive)

© Jill Evans 2017

Murder on the River Severn, 1818

On 3 November 1818, three men set off from Woolaston  together in a boat, making their way down the River Severn to Bristol. The three were William Burton and William Syms, and the owner of the boat, named Hurd. After transacting some business in Bristol for a few days, the men had intended to go  home, but the weather was bad, so they spent a night at a public house in Pill.  Syms had plenty of money to buy drinks, and was seen to put three five pound notes in his left breeches pocket. Burton was broke, but managed to down eleven pints of beer.

On the following morning, Hurd decided to stay behind to carry out some more business,  and Burton and Syms set off for home. They were seen in the boat together, leaving Pill, but only Burton arrived back at Woolaston. When Burton was questioned about the whereabouts of Syms, he gave contradictory answers, first saying that he had stayed behind at Pill, then that he had asked to be dropped off at Eastern Point, and had spoken about going to America. It was noticed that Burton, an ex-sailor who was always short of money, now had plenty to spend.

About a fortnight after Burton came home alone, the body of William Syms was found floating in the river, about twenty miles up stream from Woolaston. His skull was fractured and the left pocket of his breeches was turned inside out. Burton was taken into custody and questioned. He said a sailor he knew in Bristol had lent him £8, but it was proved that he had come home with far more money than that. Burton was committed to Gloucester Gaol on 22 November, to await trial. William Syms was buried in the parish church at Alvington, near Woolaston, on 1 December 1818. He was twenty-four years old.

 

geograph-154422-by-Stuart-Wilding

St Andrew’s Parish church, Alvington. Burial place of William Syms. (www.geograph.org.uk. Copyright Stuart Wilding, 2006. Licensed for reuse under Creative Commons Licence.)

The trial of William Burton took place on 6 April 1819, at the Gloucestershire Assizes. The prosecution called twenty-three witnesses to give evidence; the defence called none, but cross-examined all of the prosecution witnesses. Despite this, the jury took only five minutes to find Burton guilty of the murder of William Syms. The judge sentenced him to be hanged, after which his body was to be delivered for dissection.

In the condemned cell at Gloucester Prison, William Burton persisted in claiming his innocence. On the morning of his execution, which took place on 8 April, two days after his trial, he barricaded himself inside his cell and the prison officials had to break through the wall of the neighbouring cell to get him out. He was hanged on the roof of the prison gatehouse.

Sources

Hanged at Gloucester by Jill Evans (The History Press, 2011).

Original information from the Gloucester Journal.

Photograph: http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/154422

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Poisoner Gibbeted at Cheltenham, 1777

'Two Gentlemen Regarding the Gibbets with Satisfaction', from The Newgate Calendar. (www.exclassics.com)

‘Two Gentlemen Regarding the Gibbets with Satisfaction’, from The Newgate Calendar. (www.exclassics.com)

In the year 1776, Cheltenham was a fashionable spa town, visited by ladies and gentlemen from all over the country. Among those visiting in September of that year were Captain William Pierce A’Court and his wife Katherine, whose family seat was at Heytesbury in Wiltshire. Accompanying the couple were their three daughters and four servants, including footman Joseph Armstrong. Thirty-year-old Armstrong had been hired by Captain A’Court shortly before the visit to Cheltenham. Mrs A’Court took an immediate dislike to the new servant, and when valuables began to go missing from the household, she was sure that he was responsible. She told her husband that she would like Armstrong to be dismissed.

Not long after their arrival in Cheltenham, Mrs A’Court started to feel ill, and her symptoms persisted and increased over the course of ten days, until she died in a state of agony, on 23 September. She was 32 years old. A post mortem examination showed that “her bowels were found mortified”, and Captain A’Court, suspecting that Armstrong might have had a part to play in his wife’s demise, had his belongings searched. In the footman’s chest, he found some of the family’s missing valuables, plus two empty arsenic papers. By this time, Armstrong had left Cheltenham in a hurry. A pursuit began, and he was followed along the London Road, until eventually he was discovered in some woodland, hiding up a tree.

During his time in Gloucester Gaol, awaiting trial, Armstrong denied that he had played any part in causing the death of his mistress. In March 1777, he appeared at the Gloucestershire Assizes, charged with petty treason, in poisoning his master’s lady, Mrs A’Court. (For a servant to murder his or her master or mistress was classed as petty treason, because it was regarded as akin to a subject murdering his or her sovereign.) It was stated that Armstrong had poisoned Mrs A’Court by adding small quantities of arsenic to her tea and beer. The former footman continued to deny the charge, but after a trial lasting eight hours, he was found guilty. The judge, Mr Baron Perryn, sentenced Armstrong to be hanged and his body dissected. His execution was to take place on 17 March.

On the morning of 17 March 1777, Joseph Armstrong asked the gaoler and other officials to leave him alone in his cell for a few minutes, to pray and compose himself for what was to come. When the gaoler returned, he found that Armstrong was dead. He had managed to hang himself with a leather strap. The authorities, robbed of their public display of justice being administered, decided that instead of being sent for dissection, Armstrong’s body should be hung in chains in or near Cheltenham, as close to the scene of the murder as possible. In this way, Armstrong would still be punished for his crime, and his hanging body would act a deterrent to other potential wrong-doers.

None of the contemporary newspaper reports stated exactly where Armstrong’s body was gibbeted, but the Cheltenham Chronicle of 3 June 1922 recounted the tale of the murderous footman, as told in a book published in 1863: “Norman’s History of Cheltenham“, by John Goding. This account of the murder contains a number of inaccuracies, but it does give some interesting information on where the gibbet was situated.

According to this work, Armstrong’s body was chained up on a hastily-constructed gibbet in an area “a little below North Lodge, late residence of Lord Dunally, called ‘The Marsh’.” This was an open area, north-west of Cheltenham, where fashionable visitors went riding or drove in their carriages. Armstrong was brought from Gloucester on a low, horse-drawn truck, and a crowd watched as the body was suspended in chains upon the gibbet. After an hour, the cross-bar broke from the weight of the chains and the corpse plummeted to the ground. After a repair was made, the body was suspended once again and left there to rot.

The “precise spot” of the gibbet, according to Goding, was “in the by-lane behind Lord Dunally’s residence, leading to the Marle-hill estate, and in almost a direct line with Dunally Street and Henrietta Street, the ancient ‘Fleece-lane’. ” (According to the WordPress site, Cheltonia, a part of Lord Dunally’s former residence, North Lodge, still remains in St Paul’s Road.)

Norman’s History of Cheltenham goes on to say that about twelve months after the body was first gibbeted, it disappeared, and members of the Armstrong family were rumoured to have removed it. However, decades later, when the ground was enclosed, the gibbet posts, which had remained in place for all those years, were removed, and a skeleton was discovered, wrapped in chains, buried a few feet under the ground. Goding states that Armstrong’s skull was bought by a surgeon, Dr Minster, and the skeleton by Dr Newell, another medical man. The main gibbet posts were taken to Clonbrook House and used for gateposts.

As for the body of Katherine A’Court, she was buried in the graveyard of St Mary’s Parish Church, and a handsome marble tablet was erected in the chancel, to her memory. The monumental inscription was transcribed in Norman’s History of Cheltenham (with”William P. A’Court” mistakenly read by the author as “William P.A. Court”). The inscription relates how she died by poison, “Administered by the hands of a Cruelly Wicked Livery Servant Whose Resentment, at being detected in Theft, Prompted him to Perpetrate this horrid and Execrable Crime”.

Transcription of the Monument to Katherine A'Court, in St Mary's Parish, Church, Cheltenham, reproduced in Goding's "Norman's History of Cheltenham".

Transcription of the Monument to Katherine A’Court, in St Mary’s Parish Church, Cheltenham, reproduced in Goding’s “Norman’s History of Cheltenham”, 1863.

 

Sources:

Gloucester Journal, 30 Sept 1776, 17 March 1777

Bath Chronicle, 3 Oct 1776

Cheltenham Chronicle, 3 June 1922, p.4

John Goding, Norman’s History of Cheltenham, 1863, pp.179-182 (via http://www.archive.org)

cheltonia.wordpress.com/old-names

R. Bigland, Historical, Monumental and Genealogical Collections, Relative to the County of Gloucester, part 1, ed.  Brain Frith (Bristol and Gloucestershire  Archaeological Society, 1989)

© Jill Evans 2016

Pubs and Crime in Gloucestershire, 1825-1919

When I was researching Gloucester Murder & Crime, it was noticeable how many times public houses and inns played a part in the stories I was working on. I suppose it is not all that surprising, as consumption of too much alcohol no doubt led to violence in the past as much as it does in modern times. Looking again at my first book, Hanged at Gloucester, I found that there were a number of cases where Gloucestershire pubs featured prominently.  I thought it would be interesting to give an outline of those establishments which played a role in Gloucestershire’s crime history.

In Gloucester:

The Barley Mow in Southgate Street was the scene of a fatal stabbing in 1873. An altercation at closing time between a ship’s carpenter from Gdansk named Otto Moritz and a group of French sailors led to the stabbing of two of the Frenchmen. One of those injured was later found dead. Moritz was tried at the Gloucester Assizes in April 1873, and was found guilty of manslaughter. He was sentenced to ten year’s imprisonment, which he served at Pentonville Prison in London.

In 1875, the Fleece Inn  in Westgate Street was frequented by a well-known hard-man called George Clements. He was a chimney sweep by trade, but also sub-let his house in Union Street to two prostitutes. He was sweet on one of the girls, named Lilly Cooke, and after seeing her at the Fleece Inn drinking with another man in December 1875, he followed her back to the house and stabbed her. Lilly spent several weeks in the infirmary, but she survived. Clements was tried at the Assizes in April 1876. The jury returned a verdict of guilty of wounding with intent to murder. He was sentenced to twenty years imprisonment at Pentonville.

In 1903, William Mould was the landlord of the Duke of Wellington public house in Tredworth Road. His wife, Agnes, had spent some time that year in Gloucester’s Lunatic Asylum, after her new-born child died. Agnes believed that she had killed the child, but an inquest (held at the Lower George, Westgate Street) found that the death was an accident. Agnes was released from the asylum in December, and on Christmas Eve she told her family that she had killed a little boy by pushing him into the Gloucester and Sharpness Canal. A body was found a few days later. In January 1904, Agnes Mould was committed to the Lunatic Asylum once more, without standing trial.

The former Park End Hotel, now converted into apartments (Jill Evans, 2013)

The former Park End Hotel, now converted into apartments (Jill Evans, 2013)

The  Park End Hotel, on the corner of Park End Road and New Street, was visited on the night of 13 September 1919 by a married couple, Matthew and Elizabeth Rodgers, who lived in New Street, and their neighbours, Ernest and Maria Barnes. Mr and Mrs Rodgers had a troubled marriage, largely due to Matthew’s philandering, and the pair had argued that afternoon. After leaving the bar at closing time, Mr and Mrs Barnes were invited to go into the Rodgers’ house to listen to the gramophone. While they were all sitting together in the parlour, Elizabeth Rodgers went behind her husband’s chair and cut his throat with a razor. She stood trial in October 1919 and pleaded not guilty to murdering her husband, on the grounds that she had not planned to commit the crime and had been under great provocation. The jury found her guilty of manslaughter and she was sentenced to fives years’ penal servitude.

In Gloucestershire:

The Tennis Court Inn in Warmley, near Bristol, was the local haunt of some of the notorious Cock Road Gang. One night in November 1824, seven members of the gang, including Mark Whiting and James Caines, were drinking in the Tennis Court Inn when Issac Gorden came in. Gorden had words with James Caines, who threatened to knock his brains out. Not long after closing time, Gorden’s body was found, about 70 yards from the inn. He had suffered a heavy blow to the head and had a stab wound. It was later discovered that he had been hit with a heavy wooden post, used as a clothes prop, which had been taken from the garden of The Tennis Court Inn. Six men were tried for murder at the Gloucester Assizes in April 1825. All were acquitted except Mark Whiting and James Caines, who were hanged.

The Trouble House Inn on the outskirts of Tetbury already had an association with highwaymen and other law-breakers when brothers Matthew and Henry Pinnell called into the bar one afternoon in December 1828. While they were drinking, they saw a farmer, James Kearsey, going down the road on his way to Tetbury market, and Matthew remarked that it would be no sin to take a little from these great farmers. As Kearsey made his way home from the market, he was jumped on by two assailants, who hit him with a stick and robbed him. The Pinnell brothers were soon identified and were tracked down in Salisbury. They were tried in Gloucester in April 1829 and sentenced to death for highway robbery.

The Trouble House Inn, Tetbury (via geograph.org.uk. Image copyright Mick Lobb and licensed for re-use under Creative Commons Attribution- Share Alike 2.0 licence.)

The Trouble House Inn, Tetbury (via geograph.org.uk. Image copyright Mick Lobb and licensed for re-use under Creative Commons Attribution- Share Alike 2.0 licence.)

In September 1836, the body of a woman was found in a lane in Stapleton. She was taken into a nearby inn, the Mason’s Arms, and was recognised by staff as having been in the bar with a younger man shortly before. The next day, a strolling player named Charles Samuel Bartlett came into to the inn and identified the body as being that of his mother-in-law, Mary Lewis. He was recognised as being the young man who had been in the bar with the woman on the day she died. He was arrested and was tried at Gloucester Assizes in April 1837. Mary Lewis had been shot by Bartlett, who had persuaded her to walk with him from Bristol to Winterbourne on some pretext. They had taken a break at Stapleton, where Bartlett took the opportunity to shoot her, but made the grave error of returning to the Mason’s Arms to identify his victim. He was hanged on 15 April 1837.

In the early 1870s, The Early Dawn public house in High Street, Cheltenham was run by Peter and Sarah Gardner. Their eighteen-year-old daughter Emily helped out in the bar. She was being courted by a young man named Frederick Jones, who was very jealous of what he saw as Emily’s friendliness towards other men. On the night of 10 December 1871, Jones and Emily accompanied Emily’s sister back to her lodgings, then set off back to the Early Dawn, but Emily never arrived home. A search party found her dead in a lane, in a pool of blood, with her throat slashed several times. Jones was tried at the Winter Assizes in Gloucester and hanged in January 1872.

All of these stories can be read in greater detail in my books, Hanged at Gloucester (2011) and Gloucester Murder & Crime (2013), both published by The History Press.

© Jill Evans 2016