GEORGE WALDRON, alias BARRINGTON. TRANSPORTED FOR PICKING POCKETS.

THIS notorious offender was born of decent parents in the year 1755, in the town of Maynooth, county Kildare, Ireland. His father, whose name was Waldron, was a working silversmith; and his mother followed the occupation of mantua-maker, and occasionally joined with it the profession of a midwife. Owing to a law-suit in which they were engaged with a relative, for the recovery of a legacy to which they conceived themselves entitled, their circumstances were by no means affluent. But although they were unable to procure for their son the advantages of a superior education, they had him instructed at an early age in reading and writing; and afterwards, through the bounty of a medical gentleman in the neighbourhood, he was taught the principles of arithmetic, and the elements of geography and English grammar.

When he had entered his sixteenth year, he had the good fortune to attract the notice of a dignitary of the Church of Ireland, through whose interest he was placed at a free grammar-school in the Irish capital, where his patron proposed he should fit himself for the University; and in order that he might be able to make an appearance equal to that of the youths with whom he was to associate, his generous protector supplied him with money and every other necessary that could render his situation at school not only comfortable, but respectable.

These advantages he enjoyed but a short time, for the impetuosity of his passions hurried him into an action by which he lost his patron’s favour for ever. When he had been about half a year at the grammar-school, he was involved in a quarrel with a lad much older and stronger than himself. Some blows passed, in which George suffered considerably; but in order to be revenged, he stabbed his antagonist with a penknife; and had he not been prevented, would probably have murdered him. For this atrocious offence the discipline of the house was inflicted with proper severity, which irritated the youth to such a degree, that he formed the resolution of abandoning not only the school, but also his family and friends. His plan of escape was no sooner formed than it was carried into execution; but before his departure he found means to steal ten or twelve guineas from the master, and a gold repeating-watch from his sister. With this booty he safely effected his escape from the school-house in the middle of a still night in the month of May 1771; and pursuing the great north road from Dublin all that night and the next day, he arrived late in the evening at Drogheda without interruption.

Having reached this town, where he thought that he should be safe from the chances of pursuit and discovery, by a species of forced march, without rest or refreshment, he entered a small public-house in order to procure the one and the other; but the following morning introduced to his notice a band of strolling players, whose acquaintance he immediately made. A friendship commenced under such unfavourable circumstances, it might be thought would scarcely last many days, but it was nevertheless maintained through choice and affection for several years; and it appears that whilst engaged as a member of the company, he picked up much information which was exceedingly useful to him in his subsequent career.

Price, the manager of the company, having lived some time in London, in the capacity of clerk to a pettifogging attorney, was intimately acquainted with the town, and all the arts of fraud, deception, or violence, which are practised in it by the most unprincipled classes to procure money. For indulging these vicious propensities, he subjected himself to the lash of the law, and was at this time an involuntary exile in Ireland till the expiration of the term for which he was to be transported; and this man soon became the confidant and counsellor of the young fugitive. By his advice he renounced his paternal name, assumed that of Barrington, and entered into the company; and in the course of four days he became so well initiated in the mysteries of his profession as to be able to perform the part of Jaffier in “Venice Preserved,” without the aid of a prompter, in a crowded barn in the neighbourhood of Drogheda with the most flattering demonstrations of applause.

His success, however, was by far too great to render it at all desirable that he should continue his performances so near the scene of his late depredations; and in obedience to the dictates of prudence, lest our hero might be called upon to make his last appearance on a “stage” fitted up with a drop, before his character as a player was fully established, it was resolved that the whole company should, without delay, move northwards with all speed, so as to get out of the way, with the anticipation of their being able to reach sixty or eighty miles from Dublin without any long bait. In order to carry this resolution into effect, however, it was recollected that some means must be found to feed the strollers, as the produce of their late performances was not so weighty as to require any great exertion on the part of the treasurer to squeeze it into his waistcoat pocket; and the gold repeater being remembered, it was immediately given up by our hero, pro bono publico, with a degree of liberality which procured for him a burst of applause from his companions in the search of histrionic fame. The watch being disposed off, its proceeds were equally divided, and the party set out on its march; but when they arrived at Londonderry, it was found that the Belvidera of the company had surrendered her heart to the new Jaffier. A reciprocal attachment was found to exist, and the connexion was only dissolved by the death of the lady. It appears that she was the daughter of a respectable tradesman at Coventry; and having eloped from her father’s house, at the age of sixteen years, with a lieutenant of marines, conducted by him to Dublin, and there, in less than three months, was infamously abandoned to all the horrors of penury and want. Reduced to this extremity, she readily embraced a proposal made to her by Price, to join his company, as her only resource; and being young and beautiful, it is not extraordinary that she should have excited a flame in the bosom of her new admirer. She was unfortunately drowned, in her eighteenth year, in crossing the Boyne, through the negligence of the ferryman.

To return, however, to the Company. The money which had been raised was found to be quite expended on their arrival at Londonderry, and some means, it was determined, must be found to recruit their bank. In this dilemma, Price insinuated to our adventurer that a young man of his address and appearance might easily introduce himself into the public places, to which the merchants and dealers of the town resorted, and that he might, without difficulty, find opportunities of picking their pockets, and escaping unseen and undiscovered. The idea pleased Barrington, and the fair coming on, offered a favourable juncture at which to commence his new profession. The design was carried into execution in the course of the ensuing day with very great success, their acquisitions amounting to about forty guineas in cash, and one hundred and fifty pounds in Bank notes. The circumstance, it may readily be supposed, excited no small alarm among the honest traders, on its becoming generally known that robberies to so large an amount had been effected; but the players remaining in the town, suspicion did not rest upon them, and the depredation was put down to the score of some of the ordinary scamps who then, as well as now, followed the fairs, in Ireland and England. It was resolved, however, that the company should quit Derry, and after having played a few nights with more applause than profit, they removed to Ballyshannon, where our hero may be said to have commenced the business of a professed pickpocket in the summer of the year 1771, in the 16th year of his age.

At Ballyshannon he passed the autumn and winter of 1771 with the company to which he belonged, playing two days in the week, and picking pockets whenever opportunity offered; and this business, though attended with some danger and certain infamy, he found so much more lucrative than that of the theatre, where his fame and his proficiency by no means kept pace with the expectations raised by his first appearance, that he determined to quit the stage.

He now commenced what is called a “gentleman pickpocket,” by affecting the airs and importance of a man of fashion; but he was so much alarmed at the detection and conviction of his preceptor, Price (who was sentenced to transportation for seven years), that he hastened to Dublin, where he practised his pilfering art during dark evenings only. He soon made his own country too hot to hold him, for at one of the races in the county of Carlow he was detected picking the pocket of a nobleman; but, upon restoring the property, his lordship declined any prosecution, and he therefore left Ireland, and for the first time appeared in England in 1773. On his first visit to Ranelagh with a party, he quitted his friends, and picked the pockets of the Duke of Leinster and Sir William Draper of a considerable sum; and he also took from a lady a watch, with all which he got off undiscovered, and rejoined his friends.

In 1775 he visited the most celebrated watering-places, particularly Bath; and, being supposed to be a gentleman of fortune and family, he was noticed by persons of the first distinction. On his return to London he formed a connexion with one Lowe, and became a most daring pickpocket. He went to court on the queen’s birthday, as a clergyman, and not only picked several pockets, but found means to deprive a nobleman of his diamond order, and retired from the palace without suspicion.

In the course of the winter of 1775 the celebrated Russian Prince Orloff visited England. The various circumstances of his history, the high favour he enjoyed at the court of his sovereign, and the valuable presents he had received from her, were frequently mentioned in the public prints. Among the rest, a gold snuff-box, set with brilliants, and valued at the enormous sum of thirty thousand pounds, particularly attracted the attention of Barrington. It was not long before he formed a plan for obtaining possession of it. A favourable opportunity one night presenting itself at Covent-garden Theatre, he contrived to get near the prince, and found means to convey the precious trinket out of his excellency’s waistcoat pocket into his own. This operation, however, was not performed with such dexterity as to escape detection. The prince felt the attack so impudently made upon him, and immediately seized the depredator by the collar. During the confusion that ensued, Barrington slipped the box into the hand of the owner, who was doubtless well pleased at having recovered it so easily; but the delinquent was, nevertheless, secured, and committed to Tothill-fields Bridewell, previous to his examination at Bow-street for the offence. On this occasion he represented himself as belonging to an affluent and respectable family in Ireland, adding that he had been educated for the medical profession, and had come to London to improve himself in it; and having accompanied this plausible representation with many tears, and seeming to rest so much on his being an unfortunate gentleman rather than a guilty culprit, Prince Orloff declined to prosecute, and he was dismissed by the magistrate, with some wholesome admonition.

This adventure, however, had no effect with our hero. He had gone too far to recede, and he was compelled to continue his depredations upon the public, in order to obtain a living.

In pursuit of his business, it was his custom to attend the sittings of the two Houses of Parliament; but being one day in the House of Peers, he was recognised by a stranger who was present, and turned out by one of the ushers, who was made acquainted with his character. A threat of vengeance was heard to slip from the lips of the thief, and he was taken into custody, and being unable to give security for his future good behaviour, he was committed to Tothill-fields Bridewell, and remained there during a considerable period of time. On his discharge, his only refuge was his old profession: but he had not pursued it long before he was detected in picking the pocket of a woman in Drury-lane Theatre, for which he was indicted and convicted at the Old Bailey in the year 1777, and was sentenced to three years’ hard labour on board the hulks at Woolwich. The excellence of his deportment there, however, procured for him a mitigation of his punishment, and at the termination of a year he was set at liberty, in obedience to the recommendation of the superintendants of his gang.

Within six months after his release, he was detected in picking the pocket of a lady during divine service in St. Sepulchre’s church, and being convicted of this offence, he was again sentenced to hard labour on the river; but for a period of five years, and in pursuance of his sentence, he was removed to the hulks a second time, in the year 1778.

During this second confinement, he either found that his sufferings were more severe or his situation more desperate than in his former imprisonment, and, wearied out with labour and disgusted with life, he determined to commit suicide. With this view he stabbed himself in the breast with a penknife; but the wound, though deep and dangerous, did not prove mortal, and it healed slowly, although it left the unfortunate prisoner in a state of the greatest weakness. While he was in this state, he had the good fortune to attract the attention of a gentleman of rank, who happened to visit the hulks for the purpose of inquiring into the state of the convicts, and who, commiserating his wretched plight, exerted his influence and procured for him a pardon, on condition of his quitting the kingdom. The condition was eagerly accepted, and having been provided with money by his benefactor, he proceeded at once to Dublin.

He had scarcely arrived in this city, however, before he was apprehended on a charge of picking the pocket of a nobleman of his gold watch and money at a theatre; but the evidence being defective, he was acquitted and discharged. Upon his defence to this charge he displayed considerable powers of oratory, and having been addressed by the Judge in terms of suitable admonition, he spoke with great animation, and enlarged upon what he termed the force of prejudice, insinuating that the calumnies which, he contended, had been uttered against him in England, had followed him to his native country.

He then quitted the bar, and as soon as he had obtained his liberty, he deemed it prudent to retire from Dublin, and he proceeded to Edinburgh. Suspicions were, however, soon entertained of his character there, and, braving all danger, he returned to London, and there frequented the theatres, the Opera House, Pantheon, and other places of public resort, but was at length taken into custody. Having been acquitted for want of evidence of the charge brought against him, he was unexpectedly detained for having returned to England in violation of the condition on which his majesty was pleased to grant him a remission of his punishment, and was accordingly confined in Newgate during the remainder of the time that he was originally to have served on the river Thames.

On the expiration of his captivity he returned to his former practices, but with greater caution: but in spite of all his cares, he was at length apprehended for picking the pocket of Mr. Le Mesurier, at Drury-lane playhouse, but effected his escape from the constable; and while the lawyers were outlawing him, and the constables endeavouring to take him, he evaded detection by travelling in various disguises and characters through the northern counties of the kingdom.

The appearances of a clergyman, a quack doctor, and a rider or traveller, were in turn assumed; but going to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, he was secured and removed to London by a writ of habeas corpus. He now employed counsel, and had the outlawry against him reversed; and being then tried for stealing Mr. Le Mesurier’s purse, was acquitted in consequence of the absence of a material witness.

Being once more enlarged, he had the presumption to visit Dublin again, where having been soon suspected, he with difficulty escaped to England; but, soon after his arrival, he was taken into custody for picking the pocket of Henry Hare Townsend, Esq. at Epsom Races. For this he was tried at the Old Bailey, September 1, 1798, and found guilty, notwithstanding he made an ingenious defence. On September 22d the Recorder pronounced the sentence of transportation on him for seven years, when Barrington addressed the Court to the following effect:—

“My Lord,—I have a great deal to say in extenuation of the cause for which I now stand convicted at this bar; but, upon consideration, I will not arrest the attention of the honourable Court too long. Among the extraordinary vicissitudes incident to human nature, it is the peculiar and unfortunate lot of some devoted persons to have their best wishes, and their most earnest endeavours to deserve the good opinion of the most respectable part of society, entirely frustrated. Whatever they can say or whatever they can do, every word and its meaning, every action and its motive, is represented in an unfavourable light, and is distorted from the real intention of the speaker or the actor. That this has been my unhappy fate, does not seem to stand in need of any confirmation. Every effort to deserve well of mankind, and my heart bore witness to its rectitude, has been thwarted by such measures as those, and consequently has been rendered abortive. Many of the circumstances of my life I can, without any violation of truth, declare to have, therefore, happened absolutely in spite of myself. The world, my lord, has given me credit for abilities, indeed, much greater than I possess, and therefore much more than I deserved; but I have never found any kind hand to foster these abilities. I might ask, where was the generous and powerful hand that was ever stretched forth to rescue George Barrington from infamy? In an age like this, which, in several respects, is so justly famed for liberal sentiments, it was my severe lot that no noble-minded gentleman stepped forward, and said to me, ‘Barrington, you are possessed of talents which may be useful to society. I feel for your situation; and as long as you act the part of a good citizen, I will be your protector: you will then have time and opportunity to rescue yourself from the obloquy of your former conduct.’ Alas, my Lord, George Barrington never had the supreme felicity of having such comfort administered to his wounded spirit. As matters have unfortunately turned out, the die is cast,—and as it is, I bend resigned to my fate, without one murmur or complaint.”

Having concluded this address, rendered more forcible by his pathetic manner, he left the bar with a respectful bow, and thus retired from public life in Europe, to act his part in a new hemisphere.

From the period of his conviction Barrington’s conduct was such as to retrieve his character from the disgrace with which he had loaded it during the former portion of his life. Soon after the ship in which he, with many other culprits, embarked for Botany Bay, had left England, a circumstance occurred which may justly be asserted to have laid the foundation of his subsequent good fortune.

The humanity of the captain had induced him to release many of the convicts who were in a weakly state from their irons, and to permit them alternately, ten at a time, to walk upon deck. Two of them, who were Americans, formed the design of seizing the ship, and prevailed on the majority of their comrades to enter into the plot. It was agreed, that on the first favourable opportunity, part of those who were on deck should force the arm-chest, overpower the sentinels, and then give a signal for those below to join them. This design was planned with great secrecy, and executed with equal spirit and audacity. One day, the captain and most of the officers being below, Barrington, who was the only man on deck except the man at the helm, heard a noise on the main-deck, and going forward to ascertain its cause, was met by one of the Americans and another convict, who presented a sabre at his breast, which they had just wrenched from one of the sentinels, and commanded him instantly to stop, and to make no noise. The sentinel at the moment came up, and with a pistol which he had just snapped at the villain’s head, knocked up the weapon; and Barrington, seizing the opportunity, snatched up a hand-spike, and felled his assailant to the ground. The man at the helm was a witness to this scene of violence, and gave the alarm, while Barrington meanwhile kept his situation, guarding the passage of the quarter-deck. His antagonists now retreated a few paces, but, being joined by many others, were rushing upon him, when the discharge of a blunderbuss from behind our hero wounded several, and they retreated; and Barrington being by this time aided by the captain and the rest of the officers, the mutineers were in a few minutes driven below. An attempt of this kind required the most exemplary punishment; and, accordingly, two of the ringleaders were immediately hanged at the yard-arm, and several others severely flogged.

Order being restored, the captain paid Barrington many handsome compliments for his conduct, to which he attributed the salvation of the ship, promised him a recompense for his services, and directed his steward to supply him with everything he wanted during the voyage. Accordingly, on the arrival of the ship at the Cape of Good Hope, he gave Barrington a draft on a merchant there for one hundred dollars, with permission to go on shore as often as he pleased. Nor was this all; for, when they reached the place of their final destination, the captain made such a favourable report of Barrington’s character and merits to the governor of Port Jackson, that he immediately appointed him superintendant of convicts at a kind of colony from the parent settlement, called Paramatta, where a convenient habitation was assigned him.

Barrington’s conduct in this situation was marked by such undeviating rectitude as not only to obtain him the esteem of the governor and other officers, but also to procure him the appointment of high constable of Paramatta, with a salary of fifty pounds a-year; on which occasion the governor complimented him on the faithful discharge of his duty, which he considered as effacing his former misconduct.

In this situation he continued some time, but in 1801 he was a mere living skeleton; and, having lost the use of his intellectual faculties, had retired on a small pension. He died in 1804, a melancholy instance of perverted talents; and it is supposed that his mental imbecility was brought on by remorse and conscious sensibility, operating on a mind capable of better things.