HISTORY (continued 4)

'John Bishop.'

'Witness, Robert Ellis.'

'I declare that this statement is all true, and contains all the facts, as far as I can recollect. May knew nothing of the murder, and I do not believe he suspected that I had got the body except in the usual way, and after the death of it. I always told him that I got it from the ground; and he never knew to the contrary until I confessed it to Mr. Williams since the trial. I have known May as a body snatcher four or five years, but I do not believe he ever obtained a body except in the common course of men in that calling, by stealing from the graves. I also confess that I and Williams were concerned in the murder of a female, whom I believe to have been since discovered to be Fanny Pigburn, on or about the 9th of October last. I and Williams saw her sitting, about eleven or twelve o'clock at night, on the step of a door in Shoreditch, near the church. She had a child, four or five years old, with her, on her lap. I asked why she was sitting there. She said she had no home to go to, for her landlord had turned her out into the street. I told her that she might go home with us, and sit by the fire all night. She said she would go with us; and she walked with us to my house, in Nova Scotia Gardens, carrying her child with her. When we got there, we found the family in bed; and we took the woman in and lighted a fire, by which we all sat down together. I went out for beer, and we all partook of beer and rum (I had brought the rum from Smithfield in my pocket). The woman and her child lay down on some dirty linen on the floor, and I and Williams went to bed. About six o'clock next morning I and Williams told her to go away, and to meet us at the London Apprentice, in Old-street-road, at one o'clock; this was before our families were up. She met us again at one o'clock at the London Apprentice, without her child. We gave her some halfpence and beer, and desired her to meet us again, at ten o'clock at night, at the same place. After this we bought rum and laudanum at different places, and at ten o'clock we met the woman again at the London Apprentice. She had no child with her. We drank three pints of beer between us there, and stayed about an hour. We should have stayed there longer, but an old man came in, whom the woman said she knew; and she said she did not like him to see her there with anybody; we therefore all went out. It rained hard, and we took shelter under a doorway in the Hackney-road for about half an hour. We then walked to Nova Scotia Gardens, and Williams and I led her into No. 2, an empty house, adjoining my house. We had no light. Williams stepped out into the garden with the rum and laudanum, which I had handed to him. He there mixed them together in a half-pint bottle, and came into the house to me and the woman, and gave her the bottle to drink. She drank the whole at two or three draughts. There was a quartern of rum and about half a phial of laudanum. She sat down on the step between two rooms in the house, and went off to sleep in about ten minutes. She was falling back; I caught her, to save her fall, and she lay with her back on the floor. Then Williams and I went to a public-house, got something to drink, and in about half an hour came back to the woman. We took her cloak off, tied a cord to her feet, carried her to the well in the garden, and thrust her into it headlong. She struggled very little afterwards, and the water bubbled a little at the top. We fastened the cord to the palings to prevent her going down beyond our reach, and left her, and took a walk to Shoreditch, and came back in about half an hour; we left the woman in the well for this length of time, that the rum and laudanum might run out of the body at the mouth. On our return, we took her out of the well, cut her clothes off, put them down the privy of the empty house, carried the body into the wash-house of my own house, where we doubled it up, and put it into a hat-box, which we corded, and left it there. We did not go to bed, but went to Shields' house, in Eagle-street, Red-lion-square, and called him up; this was between four and five o'clock in the morning. We then went with Shields to a public-house near the Sessions House, Clerkenwell, and had some gin, and from thence to my house, where we went in and stayed a little while, to wait the change of the police. I told Shields he was to carry that trunk to St. Thomas' Hospital. He asked if there was a woman in the house who could walk alongside of him, so that people might not take any notice. Williams called his wife up, and asked her to walk with Shields, and to carry the hat-box which he gave her to carry. There was nothing in it, but it was tied up as if there were. We then put the box with the body on Shields' head, and went to the hospital, Shields and Mrs. Williams walking on one side of the street, and I and Williams on the other. At St. Thomas' Hospital I saw Mr. South's footman, and sent him upstairs to Mr. South to ask if he wanted a subject. The footman brought me word that his master wanted one, but could not give an answer till the next day, as he had not time to look at it. During this interview, Shields, Williams, and his wife, were waiting at a public-house. I then went alone to Mr. Appleton, at Mr. Grainger's, and agreed to sell it to him for eight guineas; and afterwards I fetched it from St. Thomas' Hospital, and took it to Mr. Appleton, who paid me five pounds then, and the rest on the following Monday. After receiving the five pounds I went to Shields, and Williams and his wife, at the public-house, where I paid Shields ten shillings for his trouble, and we then all went to the Flower Pot, in Bishopsgate, where we had something to drink, and then went home. I never saw the woman's child after the first time before mentioned. She said she had left the child with the person she had taken some of her things to, before her landlord took her goods. The woman murdered did not tell us her name; she said her age was thirty-five, I think, and that her husband, before he died, was a cabinet-maker. She was thin, rather tall, and very much marked with the smallpox. I also confess the murder of a boy, who told us his name was Cunningham. It was a fortnight after the murder of the woman. I and Williams found him sleeping, about eleven or twelve o'clock at night, on Friday, the 21st of October, as I think, under the pig-boards in the pig-market at Smithfield. Williams woke him, and asked him to come along with him (Williams), and the boy walked with Williams and me to my house in Nova Scotia Gardens. We took him into my house, and gave him some warm beer, sweetened with sugar, with rum and laudanum in it. He drank two or three cups full, and then fell asleep in a little chair, belonging to one of my children. We laid him on the floor, and went out for a little while and got something to drink, and then returned, carried the boy to the well, and threw him into it, in the same way as we had served the other boy and the woman. He died instantly in the well, and we left him there a little while, to give time for the mixtures we had given him to run out of the body. We then took the body from the well, took off the clothes in the garden, and buried them there. The body was carried into the wash-house, and put into the same box, and left there till the next evening, when we got a porter to carry it with us to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, where I sold it to Mr. Smith for eight guineas. This boy was about ten or eleven years old, said his mother lived in Kent-street, and that he had not been home for a twelvemonth and better. I solemnly declare that these are all the murders in which I have been concerned, or that I know anything of; that I and Williams were alone concerned in these, and that no other person whatever knew anything about either of them, and that I do not know whether there are others who practise the same mode of obtaining bodies for sale. I know nothing of any Italian boy, and was never concerned in, or knew of, the murder of such a boy. There have been no white mice about my house for the last six months. My son, about eight months ago, bought two mice, and I made him a cage for them. It was flat, with wires at the top. They lived about two months, and were killed, I think, by a cat in the garden, where they got out of the cage. They were frequently seen running in the garden, and used to hide in a hole under the privy. I and my wife and children saw one of them killed by a cat in the garden whilst we were at tea. Until the transactions before set forth, I never was concerned in obtaining a subject by destruction of the living. I have followed the course of obtaining a livelihood as a body-snatcher for twelve years, and have obtained and sold, I think, from five hundred to one thousand bodies; but I declare, before God, that they were all obtained after death, and that, with the above exceptions, I am ignorant of any murder for that or any other purpose.

'John Bishop.'

'Witness, Robert Ellis, Under-Sheriff.'

'I, Thomas Head, alias Williams, now under sentence of death in Newgate, do solemnly confess and declare the foregoing statement and confession of John Bishop, which has been made in my presence, and since read over to me distinctly, is altogether true, so far as the same relates to me. I declare that I was never concerned in, or privy to, any other transaction of the like nature—that I never knew anything of the murder of any other person whatever—that I was never a body-snatcher, or concerned in the sale of any other body than the three murdered by Bishop and myself—that May was a stranger to me, and I had never seen him more than once or twice before Friday the 4th of November last—and that May was wholly innocent and ignorant of any of those murders in which I was concerned, and for one of which I am about to suffer death.

'Thomas Head.'

'Witness, R. Ellis, 'Newgate, December 4, 1831.'

'The above confessions taken literally, from the prisoners, in our presence,

'T. Wood, }

} Under-Sheriffs.

'R. Ellis, }

In regard to this confession of Bishop, we may be allowed to offer a few cursory remarks, and particularly as we have, on another occasion, laid before the public the confessions of Holloway, two of which were given, as he himself expressly declares, for the express purpose of misleading the judicial authorities of the country, with the avowed aim of saving the life of his guilty accomplice, and in which, with shame be it spoken, he too well succeeded. A voluntary confession of a criminal, standing almost at the foot of the scaffold, ought to be received with the utmost degree of caution and distrust; but in the case of the confession of Bishop, the most singular feature of the case is, that part of it has actually been believed and acted upon, whilst another part is wholly rejected, and declared to be false, although no documentary evidence has been brought forward to prove it such. In regard, however, to confessions in general, it really appears to us, that every magistrate, who has a prisoner to examine, thinks it his duty to set himself, with all his skill, to prevent the discovery of the truth from the only person, who, although he may strive to disguise, knows completely the facts of the case. This custom has no sanction in law, is repugnant to common sense, and contrary to the practice of all other nations, whose criminal codes are, generally speaking, in a more perfect state, and are certainly much more humane than our own. A man charged with an offence ought not to be compelled to confession by the promise of pardon; but is there no difference between this and actually urging him to silence against his will, as a method of escape, though he may have committed the offence? We are really sick of reading examinations, every part and portion of which are made up of injunctions to the accused, to do and say nothing whatever that can by any possibility injure his chance of eluding justice. The following, in our opinion, ought to be the practice:—All hints of advantage to the accused from confession—all recommendations to confess being cautiously abstained from; what he has to say, or chooses voluntarily to say, should be received in silence, and no obstruction thrown in his way; and, after all, what do these confessions amount to? They are but too frequently a tissue of falsehood and truth, calculated to mislead the jury, and cast a doubt upon the positive facts of the case. In all cases of confession, however, after conviction, the circumstances under which the confession is given should be particularly taken into consideration before any decisive opinion is formed as to its falsity or truth. From the nature of these circumstances a clue may be obtained to the motive which prompts the individual to make the confession, and on which depends, in a great degree, its claim to our credibility and confidence. The motive which prompted Bishop to make his confession could not have had any relationship with the hope of its saving him from an ignominious death; and it is not rational to believe that a man, under his circumstances, would make a confession for the mere purpose of deceiving, when he must have been fully conscious to himself, that not the slightest benefit could accrue to him. In the confession of Bishop there is an evident attempt to shake the verdict of the jury, to throw a doubt upon the administration of justice, and to agitate the public mind, and, as such, we would receive it with the utmost distrust; but the most striking peculiarity of the case is, that the main circumstances of it are corroborated by an accomplice, who could not have been actuated by any flattering motive to confirm the testimony already given, and who was actually ignorant at the time of the exact tenor of the circumstances detailed in the confession as given by Bishop. The confessions of Williams and Bishop were given to different individuals, in different places, but nearly at the same time, the chief question then to be decided is, had any previous agreement been entered into between these individuals as to the nature of the confession which they were to make? for unless such agreement had been entered into, the statement put forth by one of them, and corroborated in every particular by the other, supposing no previous collusion to exist, is certainly entitled to a great share of our belief. It is certain that the confession of Bishop made a very strong impression on the public mind, and to qualify the effect of it, Mr. Corder put forth a written statement to the public, which will be given in another part of the work; and the aim of which was to demonstrate, that the last words of Bishop and Williams were false. The whole gist of Mr. Corder's statement rests on the following syllogism:—

Bishop, however, does not confess to the murder of the Italian boy, but he says, that the corpse which was taken, as it may be said, upon him, was not that of Carlo Ferrari, but of a Lincolnshire youth, who had been entrapped into their snares, as described both by Bishop and Williams. It must be also remarked, that the identity of the body of the Italian boy was never fully established; in fact, the chief witness who was brought forward to depose to the fact, declared positively that he could not swear it was the body of Carlo Ferrari, but that it was very like it. If we examine the majority of the confessions made by convicted criminals, we shall generally find them destitute of all truth. The confession of Fauntleroy was a confession of being innocent of almost all the forgeries he had committed; and it is rather remarkable, that the chief murderer of Mr. Steele, upwards of thirty years ago, was John Holloway, and the most just verdict which was pronounced against him and his accomplice, Owen Haggarty, was attempted to be invalidated after their execution, on account of the confession made by the latter. A variety of opinions still exists in regard to the truth of Bishop's confession; but we shall here close our remarks, with the brief observation, that we do not perceive what right, in a Protestant Church, either priest or magistrate has to urge a convict to make a confession; for we are convinced, that if a confession before conviction be of little worth, the confession afterwards is almost universally false.

There was, however, one circumstance connected with the confession of Williams, which subjected the worthy Ordinary of Newgate to public animadversion; and, subsequently, to an examination of his conduct before the Court of Aldermen.

It appears, that whilst Williams was making his confession to the Rev. Mr. Williams, of Hendon, the Rev. Ordinary stepped in, and put an end to all further disclosure from the mouth of Williams, which act was construed into one of supererogation on the part of Mr. Cotton, incompatible with his clerical character, and at variance with the promotion of the ends of justice. This circumstance was brought before the public in the following letter, addressed to the editor of a morning paper:—

'Sir,

'Can you inform me by what authority the Rev. Mr. Cotton interposed to suppress the confessions of the two murderers? Were they, in consequence, better qualified to receive from him that spiritual instruction which he professes to give, or had he any other motive by which his conduct was actuated?

'I am, Sir, your obedient servant, James Stone.

'Dec. 10.'

This letter produced the following one from Mr. Under-Sheriff Wood, addressed to the Editor of the same paper:—

'Sir,

'I read in your paper this morning a letter signed "James Stone," requesting to be informed "by what authority the Rev. Mr. Cotton interposed to suppress the confessions of the two murderers." That letter is dated December 10, but has not the address of the writer. Will you be so obliging as to furnish it to me, in order that the Sheriffs may ascertain upon what authority it was written, and whether there is any foundation for the imputation it is intended to convey? Till then, it must be obvious to Mr. Stone that he cannot receive an answer.

'I am, Sir, your obedient servant, 'Thomas Wood, Under-Sheriff.

'Little St. Thomas Apostle, Dec. 12.'

By the letter of Mr. Wood, he seemed to intimate that the Sheriffs were disposed to institute a solemn inquiry into the conduct of the Ordinary. If, however, they could suppose that person capable of acting the monstrous part imputed to him, surely they would not have wanted such aid as the unknown letter-writer could be expected to supply, in order to induce them to bring his merits before the proper authorities. At all events, it was no very handsome compliment paid to the worthy Ordinary.

In explanation, however, of the conduct of Mr. Cotton, the following letter appeared in the same paper, and on the same day, as that of Mr. Under-Sheriff Wood:—

'Sir,

'By way of elucidation, relative to the letter inserted in your paper of this day, demanding by what authority the Rev. Mr. Cotton interposed to suppress the confessions of the two murderers, and signed "James Stone," I beg to inform you, that whilst the Rev. Mr. Williams, of Hendon, was listening to the confession of Williams the murderer, Mr. Cotton went into the cell, and called out, "Come, come, Mr. Williams, what is all this about? I suppose you want to extract confessions with a view to publish them: let me converse with the criminal." Upon this unexpected and extraordinary interruption by the Ordinary, the Rev. Mr. Williams retired to another part of the room, and was much astonished. I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

'A Reader.

'Paul's Chain, Dec. 12.'

Now there were but very few persons present when Williams is said to have been engaged in his confessions, and, of course, the writer of it could have been easily ascertained; but the publicity which had been given to the transaction induced the Court of Aldermen to institute an inquiry into the conduct of the Rev. Ordinary, and after a most minute investigation, he was fully exonerated from all the blame which had been imputed to him.

It may be here necessary to epitomize some parts of the confessions of Bishop and Williams, as it was on account of the concurrent testimony of those two individuals that a respite for May was ultimately obtained.

Bishop, during his interview with the Rev. Mr. Williams, had confessed to the commission of three murders, and he was proceeding to detail the particulars of a fourth, in which a black man, a negro, was the victim; and he was about to give the names of other parties who were implicated with him in the last-mentioned murder, when the interruption of the Rev. Ordinary already alluded to took place; nor could Mr. Williams, in the course of that interview, induce the convict to resume the thread of his narrative. The confessions, however, of Bishop and Williams both went to exculpate May from any participation in any of the murders. They both declared that May did not see the body, supposed to be the Italian boy, till the Friday evening, the day after the murder; they denied that their next door neighbour, Woodcock, could have heard any footsteps or scuffling, as he had described in his evidence; and they asserted, that, after hocussing the boy with laudanum in rum, he became as dead as a log. In that state they carried him to the well in the yard, and held his head under the water, till they were sure that he was completely suffocated. Previously to going into the yard for the above horrid purpose, they both took off their shoes.

They added, that, during the whole affair, there was no person in the lower part of the house, but themselves, Bishop and Williams, they having some time previously sent their wives to bed. The prisoners also denied the correctness of the medical testimony given on the trial. It will be remembered that the death of the boy was described in evidence, as having been occasioned by a blow inflicted during life on the back of the neck; whereas the prisoners asserted, that this appearance of a supposed deadly injury was occasioned by the twisting of the neck to force the corpse into the trunk, immediately after it was brought from the well. They also said that extravasation of blood, such as that described by the surgeons, always occurs when a body is thus doubled up while it is warm. Having received these confessions, and having heard the most solemn declarations from May of his innocence, the Rev. Mr. Williams and Mr. Wontner immediately waited upon Mr. Justice Littledale and Baron Vaughan, who had been present on the bench whilst the prisoners were tried by Lord Chief Justice Tindal, and who were still engaged in trying cases at the Old Bailey. On hearing the statements made by Mr. Wontner and the Rev. Mr. Williams, Baron Vaughan felt inclined to suggest to Chief Justice Tindal, the propriety of recommending that a respite should be granted to May. Mr. Justice Littledale believed, on the contrary, that the verdict was correct in the case of May, as well as those of Bishop and Williams, and that the law ought to take its course. The Rev. Mr. Williams and Mr. Wontner then waited upon Mr. Chief Justice Tindal at his residence, and upon communicating to him the statements which they had previously laid before Baron Vaughan and Mr. Justice Littledale, the Chief Justice said, he would, as early as possible, see the Home Secretary on the subject. This learned judge appeared to agree in opinion with Baron Vaughan. It was next ascertained that Lord Melbourne was not in town; but as a Cabinet Council was to be held at two o'clock on Sunday afternoon, no doubt was entertained that his lordship would attend officially, and that shortly previous to that hour, the Chief Justice would have an opportunity of conferring with him on the facts of this extraordinary case.

During the whole of Saturday, the sheriffs, under-sheriffs and several other official persons were decidedly opposed to any mitigation of the punishment of May, and indeed to any delay of his execution; and it was expected that the applications that were being made on his behalf would be frustrated by the positive opinions and predilections of some influential individuals. But on Sunday morning the sheriffs visited all three of the prisoners in succession; and the under-sheriffs, who are very intelligent men, were engaged between three and four hours in taking down the statements of the convicts; the consequence was, we understand, that the opinions of both sheriffs and under-sheriffs underwent a decided change, as to May being implicated in the crime of murder. They were consequently desirous that his sentence should be mitigated. The result of all these investigations was, that on Sunday afternoon, at half-past four o'clock, a RESPITE during his Majesty's pleasure arrived at Newgate for May, and his sentence was commuted to transportation for life.

Shortly after the arrival of the respite at Newgate, Dr. Cotton and Mr. Wontner went to the room in which the three prisoners were confined for the day. The rev. gentleman opened the paper, and began to read it aloud. The most anxious attention was paid to its contents by all the prisoners; but the interest manifested by May, who must have known that the fate of his miserable companions was sealed, but had felt that there was still hope for him, was quite painful to witness. His agitation was dreadful; but no sooner had Dr. Cotton repeated the words, 'that the execution of the sentence upon John May shall be respited during His Majesty's most gracious pleasure,' than the poor wretch fell to the earth, as if struck by lightning. His arms worked with the most frightful contortions, and four of the officers of the prison could with difficulty hold him. His countenance assumed a livid paleness—the blood forsook his lips—his eyes appeared set, and pulsation at the heart could not be distinguished. All persons present thought that he could not possibly survive; it was believed, indeed, that the warrant of mercy had proved his death-blow.

Mr. Wontner and Dr. Cotton, who have of course witnessed many scenes of dreadful agitation during their experience among capital convicts, declare that they never before beheld any human being so fearfully affected. It was nearly a quarter of an hour before May was restored to the use of his faculties. At last, when recollection returned, he attempted to clasp his hands in the attitude of thanksgiving, but his limbs shook so violently that he found even that was impossible. His lips moved, but nothing but inarticulate sounds came from his tongue. The parties present soothed him with assurances that they knew what he meant to say, and with earnest entreaties that he would calm himself, and not attempt to speak. When restored to something like composure, May poured forth his gratitude to God, and his thanks to the humane gentlemen who had interested themselves in his behalf. He then explained, that when the reverend ordinary commenced reading the warrant, he thought that all hope was at an end—that the ceremony was to signify to him that he must die—the sudden revulsion of feeling, when he heard the words we have quoted, caused him to swoon. He added, that on learning that he was to be spared, he felt as if his heart had burst in his bosom. He declared most solemnly, now that he was out of jeopardy, as he had done before, that he had nothing to do with the murder for which he had been condemned to die. He had never been concerned—either directly or indirectly—in any murder; but acknowledged he had committed many sins for which the Almighty might justly have left him to suffer on this occasion. He hoped now to lead a better life, and to evince his gratitude to God by sincere repentance.

It will hardly be credited that Bishop and Williams beheld this awful scene with an indifference approaching to apathy. The dreadful agitation of their less guilty associate seemed to have no effect upon them, though it was remarked that the contortions of May must have brought to their recollections the struggles of some of their murdered victims.

May (who is a tall, light-haired, and rather good-looking man, about thirty years of age) is the natural son of a barrister, who formerly had chambers in the New Inn. His mother was a laundress in the chambers; she was particularly fond of her son, and when he was about twelve years of age she used to lead him about, fearful that any harm should come to him. He was educated at a boarding-school, and received a tolerable education; he wrote an excellent hand, and at the age of fourteen he was employed in a professional gentleman's office, at No. 10, in the New Inn; but he was always of a wild, roving disposition, and whenever he could get away from his duties he was associating with the worst of characters about Clare-market. This appeared to be his sole delight until he neglected the office altogether, and was consequently discharged. He had at the same time some good friends, who felt an interest in his welfare, but nothing could induce him to break off with his associates; and instead of remaining a clerk, which he was well adapted for, he took a liking to be a butcher. The first place he got was at Mr. Roberts's, in Clare-market, with whom he lived some time: he afterwards lived with Mr. Price, in the same market; but he never remained long in one place. At last he took up the trade of a 'body-snatcher;' and in order to carry on the business with the greatest facility, took a lodging in one of the houses in Clement's-lane, Strand, the back of which looks into the burying-ground, situated in Portugal-street, at the rear of St. Clement Danes' workhouse. Here he commenced business, and was very successful; but like many others, flushed by success, he could not keep his own secret, and would brag of the number of bodies he had got out of the burying-ground at the back of his lodgings of a night, and what sums he had sold them for. He at first made no secret of his profession, and considered it meritorious, till at last he found that he was detested and despised by every person. He then left that part of the town, and got acquainted with Bishop and his associates. May was always considered a lively, interesting fellow, fond of jokes, and ready for any mischief; but his disposition was not naturally cruel, and no person who knew him a few years ago could believe that he would be the accessary to take away the life of the humblest individual. May's mother is dead, but we believe his father is still living.

Williams was in custody not long since, charged with breaking into a house in a court situate near the Hackney-road, and stealing the corpse of a widow's son, a youth of sixteen or seventeen, who had died a day or two before. The poor woman had left her home for a short time only, and on her return found the corpse had, in the mean time, been stolen. Some of the female neighbours then recollected that while they were standing in the court shortly before, a man passed them with a basket containing something which smelt very offensively, and occasioned them to look particularly at the man, although they had no suspicion, until the alarm was given, that he was carrying off the corpse of the widow's son. A pursuit was immediately commenced, but without success. From the description given, however, a policeman apprehended Williams on the following morning, and he was identified by the females as the man whom they had seen near the house with a basket as stated. No trace of the body, nor of the manner in which it had been disposed of, could be discovered, nor any further evidence obtained, and, after an examination before a magistrate, the prisoner was discharged upon a recognizance. Williams was born at Highgate, and was apprenticed to a bricklayer; dissipation, however, led him to abandon his business and to become the associate of thieves; his conduct nearly ruined his mother; and after he had been repeatedly in custody on various charges of felony, about six year's since he was apprehended in Shoe-lane, selling a copper which he had stolen, and was convicted at the Old Bailey, and sentenced to seven years' transportation. Subsequently he was sent to the Penitentiary, which he left a few months since; and he then became a resurrectionist, and continued that horrid profession until apprehended. We understand he had only been married seven weeks previous to his apprehension.

The father of Bishop was a worthy and industrious man, who for some years kept an errand-cart between Highgate and London. On the 8th of November, 1816, he was unfortunately run over by one of Pickford's vans, the wheels of which passed over both his legs, and crushed them so dreadfully that amputation was necessary. He did not long survive the operation. The estimation in which he was held was evidenced by the fact, that immediately upon his decease the inhabitants of Highgate subscribed upwards of three hundred pounds for the relief of the family. He left his widow far advanced in pregnancy. The money thus subscribed was placed in the hands of trustees, to be dispensed to the family as occasion might require. It was soon discovered that the objects of this liberal benevolence were unworthy of the exertions that had been made in their behalf, for the widow of the deceased and her son-in-law scrupled not to live together openly as man and wife. The money, however, had been raised for them, and the trustees who had no power to withhold it, were pestered with applications until the family had secured the whole. A great portion of it went into the hands of the widow, the son, and the daughter, who is now the wife of Williams, alias Head.

The conduct of both Williams and Bishop on the day previous to their execution was an intermixture of hardened indifference, and that agonizing restlessness which harrows up the soul of the criminal as the hour of his execution approaches.

Both the convicts slept during Sunday night, but awoke at intervals, and conversed with the officers of the jail appointed to watch them. Occasionally they entered into religious observances, but generally were averse to them. Once, when the person who sat up with Williams proposed to read to him some extracts out of religious books left with him by the Ordinary, Williams roughly declined the proposal, saying, 'I had religious talk enough during the day—I will have none of it to-night.' He then entered into conversation with the officer upon the subject of the offence for which he was going to suffer. He solemnly assured him that, up to the time of his marriage, he had never had any connexion with resurrection-men, and even added, that it was not until his wedding-night that he had any idea that Bishop got his livelihood by that horrible trade. He told the officer that on that night, shortly after he had got to bed, his wife conjured him not to have anything to do with the snatchers. This led to inquiries on his part, which terminated in a full disclosure, by his wife, of the practices by which her brother-in-law supported his family. No communication took place between himself and Bishop on the subject till some time afterwards, when he was suddenly thrown out of work. Bishop then gradually disclosed to him his mode of life, and asked him to become a partner in the trade. Williams assented. He then became a regular resurrection-man; but being tired with the difficulties and dangers of the trade, he proposed to Bishop, that, instead of disinterring, they should murder subjects. He was then asked what led him to make such a proposal; and his reply was, 'The recollection of what Burke had done at Edinburgh.'

After some other facts, tallying with those in Bishop's account, he stated that on the Sunday after the murder of the woman Pigburn, they attempted to Burke a man whom they accidentally lured into their power. The laudanum, however, which they had mixed with his liquor was not strong enough, as Bishop said, to stupify him beyond resistance, and he was, therefore, allowed to escape, partly from a fear of his struggles, and partly from Bishop's arm being palsied by a similar feeling to that which palsied Lady Macbeth's arm in a similar situation,—namely, the feeling that the man whom he was about to despatch 'resembled his father as he slept.' Still bent on their murderous trade, they endeavoured, on the following Tuesday, to get another subject by the same means. Again was the laudanum inefficient; and in this case, as in the former, both the intended victims left the house in which they met these ruffians, without any idea of their having been exposed to such great and imminent danger.

Two men were appointed to sit up with each of the criminals during Sunday night. About half-past twelve o'clock, Williams, who had evinced during the evening a great degree of restlessness and feverish anxiety, became somewhat calmer, and said, 'I shall now go to bed for the last time.' He first threw himself upon his knees, and prayed for some time fervently, and then undressing himself, went to his couch, but continued in conversation with the men for more than an hour, during which time he wrote a note, of which we give a copy, addressed to the Rev. Mr. Russell, the chaplain to the Penitentiary, where he (Williams) was confined for about three years.

'Newgate, Dec. 4th, 1831.

'Mr. Russell,—If you will be kind enough to let my brother prisoners know the awful death which I shall have suffered when you receive this, it will, through your expostulations, prevent them from increasing their crimes when they may be liberated; and tell them bad company, and drinking, and blasphemy, is the foundation of all evil. Give my brotherly love to them, and tell them never to deviate from the paths of religion, and to have a firm belief in their blessed Saviour. Give my love to John Edwards, John Justin, and John Dingle, and receive the prayers of the unfortunate and guilty

'Thomas Head.'

Both prisoners rose at six o'clock in the morning, and were soon after visited by the rev. gentlemen who had before attended them. Williams, at times, appeared fervent in his devotions, and prayed earnestly; but at intervals he would pause, and seem as if his prayer was hopeless; again he would resume his prayer, and clasp his hands in great agony. Bishop also prayed; but he by no means showed the same fervour as his companion. There was a listlessness in his manner approaching to indifference, not merely to religion, but to everything passing around him. At one time, when urged on the subject of his hope of forgiveness, he said, he did hope and trust for mercy through Jesus Christ. He added, that he fully deserved what he was about to suffer, but that his case would be desperate, if some greater mercy were not extended to him in the world which he was about to enter.

We should here mention a fact, that has been communicated to us on highly respectable authority, that on Sunday, besides the Rev. Mr. Cotton and another gentleman, there were two clergymen present with the convicts. The two clergymen were instructing the men on doctrinal points, which Mr. Cotton thought unnecessary. He therefore advised that the prisoners should retire into different corners of the room, and pray silently to God. Mr. Cotton found it necessary to give this advice twice. On both occasions the men withdrew as desired, fell on their knees, prayed for a short time, and then burst into tears. Before this, both prisoners seemed agitated to a degree which it was most distressing to witness. As they prayed they became more composed. The Rev. Mr. Russell, and another clergyman, were with the prisoners early on Monday morning, and remained with them up to the time of their being removed into the press-room.

The applications made on Sunday to the sheriffs, by the nobility and gentry, to allow them admission to the interior of the prison to witness the preliminaries of the execution were beyond all precedent.

Many applications were also made for admission to the condemned sermon. None, however, was preached. In the case of murderers this solemnity is not granted. The tolling of the prison-bell, which adds so much to the horrors of a common execution, by sounding the knell for the dead in the ears of those about to die, was also dispensed with. We never heard that any sufferer complained of the omission. We have seen many who were not murderers deeply affected by the funeral honour or compliment thus paid to them on their way to the scaffold.

During the whole of Saturday and Sunday, the lord-mayor and sheriffs, assisted by the city marshals, Messrs. Brown and Cope, were busily engaged in adopting precautions to guard against the possibility of accident at the execution. All the officers of the various wards in the city were ordered to attend; and besides the usual force of the city police, a large body of special constables were sworn in. An extra number of heavy barriers were erected in the Old Bailey, immediately contiguous to the space on which the gallows stands, at short distances, so as to prevent the crush of the multitude as much as possible; and the same precautions were adopted at either end of the Old Bailey, at the end of Newgate-street, Giltspur-street, and Skinner-street.

All the constabulary force received orders from the city marshals to assemble at five o'clock in the morning, and to take the stations appointed for them.

During the afternoon of Sunday groups of persons were congregated in different parts of the Old Bailey. Towards evening the crowds increased, and by midnight great numbers were assembled, who actually remained all night on the spot, in order to secure places near the scaffold on the following morning. The occupiers of houses, from the windows of which a view could be obtained of the execution, exhibited placards, announcing various prices for seats according to the proximity of the domicile to the spot, and though it was generally stipulated that such seats could not be kept for parties after six o'clock in the morning, they were eagerly sought for and secured at a guinea per seat and upwards. So much as ten guineas was given for a single window, and all these seats were occupied by those who had engaged them, at so early an hour as five o'clock, upon a cold, cheerless, and most uninviting morning. Shortly after midnight the gallows was brought from the yard, and the workmen proceeded to erect it in the usual place, opposite the debtors' door of Newgate. A large space around it was barricadoed to keep off the crowd, and the inside of that space was subsequently nearly filled by constables and marshalmen.

The crowd, as early as one o'clock, amounted to several thousand persons, and continued rapidly increasing. By five o'clock nearly two-thirds of the Old Bailey were filled with a dense mass of people. The continued buzz among the multitude at this time, the glare of light from the torches that were used for the purpose of enabling the workmen to proceed with their labours, and the terrific struggles among the crowd, altogether presented a scene which those who witnessed it will not soon forget. As the dawn of day approached, and with it the fatal hour that was to consign the wretched criminals to their well-merited fate, all the streets leading to the Old Bailey were thronged with people, chiefly of the working classes, hastening to the spot. Constant streams of population were pouring into the Old Bailey till they formed, around the scaffold and at the corner of every street from whence even a distant or a faint view could be obtained, a vast lake of life. Amongst the immense assemblage might be noticed several females, most of them of that caste whose attendance on such an occasion might be naturally expected, but some of them, we regret to state, of a class that decency, if not humanity, should have kept away from a scene so revolting to those delicate sensibilities that generally characterize females.

When the fatal drop was stationed in its usual place, it was observed that three chains were suspended from it. As soon as Mr. Wontner, the governor of Newgate, heard of it, he ordered an officer to remove one of them, May having been respited. This was done, and although it was then dark, it was instantly communicated throughout the vast assemblage, and a general cry of 'May is respited' was uttered. The announcement did not seem to excite much surprise, although a few individuals expressed their disapprobation by yelling and hooting.

About half-past six o'clock a body of city police, amounting to about two hundred men, came up the Old Bailey, but the crowd was so dense at this time that it was found impossible for them to proceed to their station, which was at the foot of the gallows. After several ineffectual attempts to pass on, it was arranged that they should be allowed to go through the prison. Several persons seized this as a favourable opportunity, by presenting constables' staves, to pass themselves off as belonging to the police; but Mr. Browne, the marshal, suffered no one to pass whom he did not recognize either as belonging to the city police or as special constables. The pressure in the immediate neighbourhood of the scaffold was tremendous, in spite of the barriers; and many persons exhausted with fatigue, as early as seven o'clock, rescuing themselves with difficulty from the throng, were heard to exclaim, as they passed the outskirts of the mob, 'Thank God, I have got away!' Many who thus quitted the scene with torn clothes, and faces streaming with perspiration, had remained on the spot for hours. Indeed, the avenue from the house of Mr. Cotton, the ordinary, to the house of Mr. Wontner, the governor of Newgate, was so completely blocked up at an early hour, that Mr. Cotton, and another clergyman who accompanied him on his last visit to these unhappy convicts, were unable to force their way through the crowd, and could only obtain admittance into the prison by making a detour to the other end of the Old Bailey, and by entering it through the iron railings around the New Court.

As day began to break we had an opportunity of surveying the crowd from the top of Newgate, and we should think that at that time there were not less than from thirty thousand to forty thousand persons assembled. The tops of the houses, lamp-posts, and every station from which the most distant view of the execution could be obtained, were by this time occupied. In fact, from one end of the Old Bailey to the other, was one dense mass; and the streets in the neighbourhood, although not a glance could be had of the platform or the proceedings, were, from an early hour, rendered impassable by the throng of persons hurrying towards the scene of execution. The assemblage was the largest that has ever been witnessed on an occasion of the kind, since the execution of Holloway and Haggarty, upwards of twenty years since, when some fourteen or fifteen persons were trampled to death in the crowd. The following fact will convey some idea of the extent and densely-congregated state of the crowd on Monday,—namely, that even so far as St. Sepulchre's church, in Skinner-street, several individuals, whose screams for relief had induced the people to raise them up, were passed over the heads of their neighbours for some dozen yards before they could obtain a resting-place.

Notwithstanding the many precautions taken by the city authorities to prevent accidents, we are sorry to say that several occurred; and though no lives were lost, we fear that some of the injuries that were sustained were of a very serious description. At the end of Giltspur-street, immediately opposite the Compter, a very heavy barrier was erected across the road for the purpose of counteracting the immense pressure of the mob, which in that direction extended to Smithfield. This barrier was fastened to two uprights, that were placed two feet in the ground, by iron hooping, which was by no means of sufficient strength for the immense weight of the timber to which it was attached. The consequence was, that at the moment the culprits were visible on the gallows, the barrier was forced down, and a number of persons of both sexes fell with it. The screams of the females, and the confusion that ensued, were truly alarming. One female of very respectable appearance, with her husband, were most dreadfully injured, the barrier having fallen upon their chests, and others of the mob pressing upon them. A city constable was also under the barrier, which rested on his abdomen, and his cries were most deplorable. In this dreadful situation did the sufferers remain for some minutes. A cry of 'Stand back; for God's sake, stand back!' was raised, but all was of no avail, and people in all directions were trampling upon each other.

At length some of the officers from the Compter came out, and with the assistance of several other officers, a space of ground was obtained, and the individuals were rescued from their perilous situation and carried to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, where they were promptly attended to by Mr. Birkett, the dresser to Mr. Vincent, the principal surgeon, who had been in attendance all night to receive any accident that might be brought in. Before nine o'clock, every bed in Colston-ward was occupied by persons who had been injured at the moment the barrier gave way, and many of them most seriously so.

As the hour of eight approached, the anxiety of the multitude became more intense, and every eye became directed towards the door through which the wretched criminals were to be led to the scaffold.

At half-past seven o'clock, the Sheriffs, accompanied by the Under-Sheriffs and several gentlemen to whom they had given permission to be present, entered the prison. The Sheriffs immediately proceeded to the condemned cells, where Mr. Wontner, the Governor, delivered the prisoners up to them for execution. The Sheriffs then proceeded to the Press-room, in which the strangers who had got admission to the prison were also admitted. The prisoners were soon after introduced by the Sheriffs' officers. Bishop entered first. That kind of stupor which we already noticed when the verdict of the jury was pronounced, was still more strongly upon him. He advanced in rather a drooping manner, his eye fixed on the ground. His step was slow without being firm, and his whole bearing was rather that of a man unconscious of, than of one indifferent to, the dreadful scene through which he was about to pass. He had got more than half way to the upper end of the room before he looked around; when he did, a kind of half-suppressed groan escaped him, as from one who was for a moment roused to a quick sense of an approaching violent death. But it was only for a moment, for at once he seemed to relapse into his former stupor: his eye was again bent on the ground, and he moved mechanically up to the officer, who stood ready to tie his hands, and stretched forth his arms, the wrists being closely pressed together. When that part of the preparation was concluded, he turned round and allowed his arms to be pinioned. This done, he took his seat at a side-bench without uttering a word. There were many persons in the room who seemed to think that this calm and quiet manner showed great firmness, but if they had seen him before, or watched him more closely, they would have perceived that there was nothing of real firmness in the man. His eye was sunk and heavy, and seemed to shrink from the gaze of those around him. It was for the most part fixed on the ground. One of the Under-Sheriffs took a seat by his side, and in a low tone asked him (we understood) whether he had anything more to confess. His answer was, 'No, Sir, I have told all.' The Under-Sheriff remained with him for a few moments, but the only answers we could hear from him were to the effect that he had nothing more to tell.

Williams was next introduced, and came up the room with the same short hasty step, which we noticed at the time of his sentence. Since then, however, his whole appearance had undergone the most terrible alteration. That cunning and flippant look, which we noticed in him on his trial, had left him, and had given place to a wild and frenzied stare. His look, as he entered the Press-room, was one of downright horror—every limb trembled as he approached the officer by whom he was to be pinioned, and his hands shook to that degree, that one person was obliged to hold them up while another bound the wrists together. While submitting to this operation, he frequently ejaculated, 'Oh, I have deserved all this, and more!—oh, I have deserved all that I am about to suffer!' One of the Under-Sheriffs now asked him whether he had anything more on his mind, or wished to make any further disclosure; he replied, 'Oh no, Sir, I have told all—I hope I am now at peace with God. What I have told is the truth.'

It was remarked that Bishop or Williams took no notice whatever of each other while they remained in the Press-room. Neither seemed to be conscious of the presence of the other, or to wish to avoid any recognition. The contrast in the manner of the two was very marked in this respect,—for Williams seemed relieved when any one addressed him, as if anxious to escape from his own thoughts, or to have his attention called off even for an instant, from the dreadful scene which approached him. Bishop, on the contrary, was sullen, and seemed rather desirous of avoiding any conversation. His answers, when addressed, were short, and delivered in a tone as if pained by any questions put to him.

After the operation of pinioning had been gone through, at a few minutes before eight, the Sheriffs, accompanied by their officers and the prisoners, proceeded towards the scaffold, the Ordinary reciting part of the funeral service. Bishop moved on in the same gloomy and desponding manner which we have already noticed. His appearance underwent no change as he approached to the foot of the scaffold. Williams became more and more agitated as he went on. Just as he came to the room which led out to the drop, he expressed a wish to see the Rev. Mr. Russell once more. That gentleman came forward, and while Bishop was led out, seated himself near him. Williams said something in a low tone, which we did not hear. Mr. Russell said to him, 'Now, Williams, you have but another moment intervening between you and death; and as a dying man I implore you, in God's name, to tell the truth. Have you told me the whole truth?'

Williams.—'All I have told you is true.'

Mr. Russell.—'But, Williams, have you told me all?'

Williams (still evasive).—'All I have told you is quite true.'

This was the last remark he made, and in a few moments he ascended the scaffold.

We were glad to observe that the very absurd custom of the Sheriff taking leave and shaking hands with the prisoner was, in this instance, very properly dispensed with.

At eight o'clock the procession began to move from the press-room, and the appearance of the executioner and his assistant on the scaffold indicated that the last and awful ceremony was just at hand. A general cry of 'Hats off!' took place, and in an instant the immense multitude were all uncovered. Bishop was first conducted on the scaffold, and his appearance was the signal for the most tremendous groans, yells, and hootings, from all parts of the crowd. The wretched man came forward, apparently unmoved by the dreadful reception he experienced. The executioner proceeded at once to the performance of his duty, and having put the rope round his neck, and affixed it to the chain, placed him under the fatal beam. A terrific cheer from the crowd proclaimed their satisfaction at the completion of the preparations for his exit to the other world; but still, though placed on the brink of eternity, and about being launched into it, amidst the execrations of his fellow-creatures, the miserable criminal betrayed scarcely a symptom of fear. The same listless and sullen manner that had marked his conduct throughout appeared to be preserved by him to the last moment. Not a muscle seemed to be moved, not a limb shook, though he remained, during the awful interval of two minutes that elapsed before Williams was brought forward, exposed to the indignant hootings of the multitude. Williams next ascended the scaffold, on reaching which he bowed to the crowd, who returned his salutation with the most dreadful yells and groans. He appeared to labour under extreme anguish, and his demeanour altogether formed a complete contrast to that of his guilty associate. While the cap was being put over his eyes, and the rope adjusted by the executioner, his whole frame seemed convulsed by one universal tremour. The Rev. Mr. Cotton, having engaged the wretched men in prayer, in which Williams appeared to join fervently, wringing his hands and ejaculating aloud, gave the signal for the falling of the drop, when they were launched into eternity. Bishop appeared to die almost instantaneously, but Williams struggled for several minutes. The moment the drop fell, the crowd, which had been yelling all the time, set up a shout of exultation that was prolonged for some minutes.

Strangers who had been admitted were directed to retire, as the Sheriffs were going in to meet some friends at breakfast. We understand it is an old custom at Newgate, that the Sheriffs should entertain the Under-sheriffs, the Chaplain, and other friends at breakfast in the prison, on the occasion of an execution.

The bodies, having been suspended for the usual time, were cut down at nine o'clock. That operation was performed by the executioner, amidst the shouts and cheers of the crowd, which still continued very great.

Immediately after, a small cart drove up to the platform, and the bodies of the culprits were placed in it, covered with two sacks. The cart then moved on at a slow pace, followed by the Sheriffs and City Marshal, and a large body of constables, along Giltspur-street, to the house of Mr. Stone, No. 33, Hosier-lane, the vast crowd yelling, and making other discordant sounds as they proceeded. On reaching Mr. Stone's house, it was with great difficulty the bodies could be removed from the cart, the crowd appearing anxious to get possession of them. The bodies were placed on a table, and in the presence of the Sheriffs (in conformity with their duty) an incision was made in their chests, after which they withdrew.

The bodies were removed the same night—Bishop to the King's College, and Williams to St. Bartholomew's, to be dissected.

Some of the manufacturers of 'last dying speeches and confessions' had, as usual, provided a plentiful supply of those veracious sheets for the gratification of peripatetic curiosity, and, as usual, some of them were sold even before the execution took place; but, unfortunately, the speculative typo, not being aware that May had received a respite, included him among the dying penitents, and an elegant wood-cut at the head of the paper represented the three culprits dangling from the gallows.

In regard to the breakfast which is given by the sheriffs on the morning of an execution, we will venture to recommend to the Court of Aldermen to take into their consideration the abolition of this most unfeeling and disgraceful custom; for it is such circumstances as these, although apparently trifling in their nature, which throw us so far back in the scale of civilisation, and verify the remark of the French philosopher, who says, that the English are the most voracious people in Europe, whether it be a wedding, a funeral, or an execution, eating and drinking are the leading features of the scene. There is something actually revolting to the feelings in the idea, that whilst a human being is suffering the agonies of death on the scaffold, a number of functionaries should retire into a certain room, in which custom (which would be far more honoured in the breach than the observance) gives its sanction that they should be regaled with a sumptuous repast, and that they should only be obliged to rise from it when the summons arrives that it is time for the body of the unfortunate wretch to be cut down.

Connected with this subject, there is another custom equally repellent and revolting, and that is, that the office of giving the signal of death should devolve on the Rev. Ordinary. Is it in the least consistent with the functions which he has to perform, and with the general duties of the clerical character, that he alone should be selected, amongst the attendant officers, for the performance of so abhorrent an act? It is the duty of the sheriff to see the execution performed,—it is the duty of the clergyman to prepare the unhappy culprit, by his prayers and admonitions, for that awful change which in a few moments awaits him;—but there is something positively unchristian, unsacerdotal, degrading, and reproachful, to a minister of the religion of Christ, that he should be the acting attendant on the scaffold of the murderer, and that on his signal the moment is to be decided when his companion, the executioner, is to withdraw the fatal bolt. Why, after the clergyman has completed his religious duties, should he not retire from the awful scene, and the office of giving the signal devolve upon the Under-sheriff? or why should not the example be followed of the Scotch executions, in which the criminal gives the signal himself, before which, the minister has retired from the scaffold? It may have been conformable to the spirit of the church during the reign of popery, that the priest should assist at the executions, and, in the case of a heretic, be the first to apply the blazing torch to the pile of fagots. But the time, we hope, is not far distant when the custom to which we have alluded, and which is actually at variance with the purity and sanctity of the ecclesiastical character, will not longer be known to exist as a stigma upon the first city of the world.

We were induced to witness the execution of Bishop and Williams, under ordinary circumstances so distressing to contemplate, not solely in our editorial capacity, but from an intense curiosity to see in what manner individuals, burdened with guilt of such peculiar atrocity, would conduct themselves on the eve of appearing in the presence of their Maker; and we felt convinced that none of those human sympathies incident to beholding the dying agonies of a fellow-creature would be excited by viewing the last struggles of those whose lives had been blackened past redemption by the commission of such barbarous and mercenary butchery.

Nor were we mistaken in this estimate of our feelings; for, so far from entertaining any sensation of pity for the criminals, we could scarcely resist the impulse to join in the exulting shout with which they might literally be said to be cheered into eternity. As we returned, however, from the place of execution, reflection succeeded to the previous excitement which we had experienced. We began to analyse the crime of the two malefactors whose exit we had just witnessed; and a careful examination of its characteristic features led us voluntarily to come to the painful conclusion that there might be found individuals, even in the higher spheres of life, who really appear almost, to use the language of Iago, to 'stand accountant for as great a sin.'

The man who commits one act of wilful murder, deservedly suffers the extreme penalty of the law, and no greater punishment is awarded to him who commits a hundred. Yet we well know that the abhorrence of society would be much the greater towards him who had perpetrated the offence the more frequently. And why so? Because, as all crimes, even the vilest, differ in degree, we feel that the man who has but once imbrued his hands in the blood of a fellow-creature, may have been prompted by a sudden impulse of rage or revenge, and may afterwards be touched with the deepest compunction for his crime; but repeated deeds of death prove that the perpetrator of them is actuated by selfish motives, and is wholly inaccessible to remorse.

It is the circumstance of Bishop and Williams having murdered their victims for the sake of lucre, that imparts a feature of peculiar horror to their crime. But it should be remembered, in a moral point of view the turpitude of the deed would not have been diminished had it been committed with a view to the ensuring any other selfish advantage or enjoyment, instead of procuring money, which, after all, they valued only as the means of obtaining selfish gratification. When Sir Robert Walpole said, that every man had his price, he, of course, did not mean that every man could be purchased by a greater or smaller portion of the current coin of the realm; but he well knew that a riband or a harlot might buy many a man to whom disposition or circumstances would render money a matter of indifference. When the Hebrew monarch, in order to carry on without fear of interruption his adulterous intrigue, directed the treacherous murder of one of his bravest and most loyal subjects and defenders, he attained to a sublimity of wickedness to which no mere Burkite can hope to aspire.

If this idea be correct, then, we are justified in assuming, that the taking away the life of any fellow-creature or fellow-creatures, solely for the purpose of obtaining any selfish object, is equally guilty, whether that object be avarice, lust, or ambition; and not only he who actually commits the deed, but he who orders it—instigates it—exults in its completion—or even desires its perpetration, are all, in different degrees, criminal. We know of the existence of an attorney-general, and therefore policy and prudence both forbid us to enter into any personal application of this part of our subject. Certain circumstances are, however, too fresh in the recollection of the public to doubt for a moment as to the parties to whom we allude.

On the afternoon of the day of execution, we saw the body of Bishop at the Royal College, where it was publicly exhibited, and to which hundreds of persons thronged, as if they were hastening to a theatrical exhibition. A longitudinal incision had been made from the thorax downwards, and transversely on the pectoral muscles. A more healthy or muscular subject has not been seen in any of the schools of anatomy for a long period. The ligaments of the atlas indentatus were not broken, and he died of apoplexy, and not from the fracture of the vertebræ of the neck. The body presented a remarkably fine appearance across the chest. The deltoides were splendidly developed, and symmetrically beautiful. The biceps were also fully developed, and the pectorales, major and minor, were particularly displayed. The left side of the face, near the whisker, was cut deeply by the rope. The neck was short, and the eyes glassy, as when he was living. His height was about five feet seven inches; his limbs remarkably well formed, and the body unusually hairy and muscular. There were the marks of two scars on his face, near the chin; and both his legs had been broken some time or other.

A meeting of the professors and lecturers in anatomy took place on the same night, on the subject of the atrocities lately discovered as having been resorted to for the supply of anatomical subjects. It was proposed and adopted by the meeting, after some discussion, that the professors and lecturers of the metropolis should discontinue their classes for the present, until some measure should be devised by Parliament for a supply of subjects under the sanction of law, and without the risk of giving encouragement to mercenary murderers. This resolution was accompanied with the condition that all the other anatomical schools throughout the kingdom should be shut up at the same time.

Mr. Baron Vaughan, one of the judges who tried Bishop and Williams, was present at the dissection of the body of the former murderer at the King's College. He was accompanied by Dr. F. Hawkins, one of the professors to the College. Previous to the body being opened, the professor of medical jurisprudence delivered a lecture on the appearances, external and internal, of death, by strangulation, drowning, and other violent means, to exhibit which the cavities of the head, chest, and abdomen of the murderer, were then carefully examined by the professor of anatomy. The brain presented an unhealthy appearance, a circumstance attributed to the great mental anxiety which Bishop underwent during his repeated examinations, and at the trial. It is intended to preserve the skeleton of Bishop in the King's College.

The disclosure by Bishop and his companions of the manner in which the anatomical schools were supplied, not even stopping short of murder, excited a ferment throughout the country, in which the surgical profession came in for the greater share of the odium. It, however, as is the case with all temporary evils, became the source of general good to the country, inasmuch as it led to the development of many plans for the better providing of subjects for the anatomical schools, amongst which, that of the voluntary grant, by particular individuals of their bodies after death, was not the least remarkable. We are, however, too well acquainted with the prejudices of the age, to expect that a system of that sort can ever become general; it may exist amongst a few noble, generous spirits, who can rise above those narrow-minded prejudices, while, at the same time, they more than share in the humanity of the times in which they live. Nothing can appear to us more laudable than this sacrifice of present personal repugnances for the future benefit of those in whose happiness we cannot participate, and to whose approbation we must necessarily be insensible.

After all we are aware that this must be only a scanty resource for the supply of subjects to our anatomical schools, and we hail the proposal not as the means of rendering a legislative measure unnecessary, but as a partial victory over those prejudices which made legislation itself dangerous or inefficient. When the subject has hitherto at different times been brought before the public, it has with mischievous industry been represented as a question not between the anatomical exhibition of the dead and the benefit of the living, but between the dissection of the poor and the exemption of the rich,—between the honoured interment of the latter, and the disgraceful mangling of the remains of the former. This clamour, after being echoed from one end of the country to the other two years ago, penetrated within the walls of Parliament and affected the majority of the House of Peers. It was then a common exclamation,—if anatomy be necessary to medical science, and if medical science be so useful to mankind, why do not the upper classes of society, why do not the wealthy and the enlightened consent to give their bodies for dissection as well as the poor, and why are the sacrifices for medical knowledge to be confined to those who have enjoyed the least of its benefits?

But admitting the merit of the examples of personal sacrifices, and allowing that they ought to influence the pretended sages who think themselves peculiarly entitled to be called the guardians of the poor, because they pander to their lowest passions, and foster their most unreasonable suspicions; we are still not of an opinion that they supply the strongest argument with the poorer classes, for abandoning their present antipathies to dissection and for giving their voluntary assent to a change in the existing law. That strongest argument is, that they at present afford nearly all the subjects for our anatomical theatres; that they are the chief sufferers by the imperfection of our surgical knowledge, and that they would be the chief gainers by an extension of medical skill.

When a clamour is raised against a proposition for giving up the unclaimed bodies of those who die in hospitals or poorhouses to be dissected, it is, of course, pretended, that at present the poor are exempted from the imaginary calamity. Now what is the real state of the case? Are not the poor as exclusively the subjects of anatomical examination now, as they could be under any change of the law? Whither do the body-snatchers go when they receive an order for the exercise of their repulsive contraband? Do they not bargain with some gravedigger, or the porter of some charitable establishment, for the connivance in seizing bodies which belonged to the poorer classes? The rich are not often disturbed in their tombs by the unhallowed intrusion of the resurrection-man. They are allowed to slumber in their inaccessible vaults, while their poorer neighbours are raised and dissected for the benefit of posterity. If some Bishop or Williams, unable to supply the trade with the fruits of plundered churchyards, think of making subjects, whom do they entice into their den of murder? Not the affluent, the respected, or the known, but the poor unfriended wretches, for whom nobody is supposed to care, and whose loss nobody will deplore,—the very parties, in short, who would, most probably, be borne to their grave, at the public expense, from the wards of a hospital, or the cells of a poor-house. It is not likely, notwithstanding Sir Astley Cooper's remarks, that persons possessed of property more valuable than their bodies, would be killed to obtain their bodies. Neither an alderman, a bishop, nor a member of parliament, could be supposed to labour under any apprehension of being Burked; and, therefore, the source of supply, to whatever extent it proceeded, remained exclusively with the poor.

Nor could the poor avoid being almost the only sufferers by the deficiency of surgical skill, which an efficient supply of subjects for dissection would necessarily occasion. The wealthy can always purchase the best portion of knowledge and experience which is in the market. They are not likely to submit their limbs or organs to a bungling operator, or take advice from an unskilful physician; and if scientific medical practitioners cannot be educated at home, they can pay them for the accomplishments and knowledge which they must acquire in foreign countries; but the poor must be contented with ignorance and inexperience, if their prejudices debar the less wealthy portion of the profession from the means of acquiring anatomical science.

We, therefore, are of opinion, that it would be chiefly for the benefit of the lower classes themselves, that those who die in hospitals, in workhouses, in prisons, or in penitentiaries, and whose bodies are not claimed for interment by any relative, should be distributed amongst the anatomical schools, under such sanctions, and with such formalities, as religion and decency require; the supply of subjects from this source would be sufficient, and from none other.

We recommend the following letter of Sir J. Sewell, on this subject, to the attention of our readers in which other classes of supply are enumerated; although, we think, several provisions of his measure are unnecessary, and one or two would be injurious to his object.

The suggestion which he makes of giving up the bodies of suicides for dissection would be a good one, if anything like an adequate supply could be furnished by such a course; but as this would not be the case, a great injury would result from a plan which would aggravate the already existing prejudice arising from the intimate connexion in the public mind between dissection and ignominious punishment. We are further convinced, that the surrender of the body of the suicide to the anatomical schools will never become a part and parcel of the law of the land. It would encroach too much upon the higher stations in life; for where there is one pauper who destroys himself, we could enumerate a dozen in the most elevated ranks of society. If the law declared that the body of the wretched being, who, by the pressure of poverty or misfortune, had sought a remedy for his sorrows by the sacrifice of his own life, should be given up,—the same law ought to be made to apply to a Whitbread, a Romilly, a Castlereagh, and a Calcraft, all being, at the time of their death, legislators of the nation, from the assembly of whom is to emanate the very law which is to consign their bodies, in case of suicide, to the knife of the anatomist.

The following is the letter of Sir J. Sewell:—

'Sir,

'Having dined yesterday with some of my brother magistrates, I learned, upon information, which I have no reason to distrust, that beside the confessions published, another was made on Sunday, the 4th, which comprehended a catalogue of about sixty murders, and would have probably gone on to a much greater extent, but for the interference of the Ordinary.

'When to this is added the large supply which, by the published confessions, Bishop appears to have furnished for dissection, the great number of persons employed in the same way, the probable profligacy of such persons, and, as asserted, a great falling off in the number of burials, notwithstanding the increased population of this metropolis, there is certainly but too much reason to believe that this system of murder amongst the poor which Bishop said he resorted to as both less expensive and less hazardous than collecting from cemeteries, is become extremely common; that it is in a state of progression; and that new and extraordinary modes, however inconvenient to the professors and students of anatomy, must be had recourse to for the prevention of such atrocious crimes.

'The plan which I now submit to your consideration is not offered as a perfect one, or as approaching to perfection; and the greater part of it is the result of reflection upon the subject, since receiving the information above-mentioned; but it may suggest improvements to those who are capable of making them, and though the process proposed will be necessarily attended, in the procurement of subjects, with difficulties and expenses which do not belong to the present course of practice, the aggregate charge will, I hope, very soon be diminished; and that a commerce, which is asserted, by the faculty in general, to be of very great public consequence, may be carried on to the satisfaction of all the parties interested, and without the commission of a crime in any of them.

Suggestions for a New Act of Parliament as to the Supply of Bodies for Dissection.

1. That from and after the ——, the bodies of all persons convicted of felony, and who, in consequence of such conviction, shall die in any place of confinement, in the United Kingdom, may be sold for dissection. The sale to be by public auction, the proceeds to be paid to the treasurer of the county in which the prison shall be, and applied in aid of the county rates.

2. So also the bodies of all under commitment for felony, if not claimed within —— hours after death.

3. So also the unclaimed bodies of those who die in hospitals and workhouses.

4. Suicides.

5. Unclaimed bodies of persons found dead.

6. To legalize the sale by persons while living, of their bodies after death.

7. To secure the due delivery to the purchaser on demand.

8. With certain exceptions, no dissections of the bodies of persons dying in Middlesex, or in certain parishes in Essex, Kent, and Surrey, to be permitted before the body shall have been exhibited at an appointed place, with evidence of name, residence, cause of death, &c. satisfactory to a magistrate assisted by a surgeon.

9. That the magistrate be one of the police magistrates in his turn, and that the attendance be every day at —— except Sunday, and for so long a time as may be needful in respect to bodies brought in before that hour.

10. That the magistrate give a certificate of his satisfaction as to the death, and a permit for removal and dissection.

11. That the body permitted be branded, or otherwise marked indelibly, upon the skin of every part which is commonly purchased by students who have not occasion for the whole.

12. That a register be kept of the name, residence, and cause of death, and of every person whose body is produced.

13. That the only exceptions allowed to this course be the post mortem examinations by dissection under the special directions of a coroner or other magistrate, or which are performed in the dwelling of the deceased, with the knowledge and consent of the family.

14. That whoever shall dissect a body, or any part of a body, as a separate portion, not being duly marked, or shall be possessed of them, shall be subject to ——.

15. That the forgery, or aiding or abetting, of the brand or mark, of the certificate or permit, shall subject the party to ——.

16. That similar provisions be made for other parts of the kingdom.

'I have the honour to be, Sir, Your very humble servant, J. Sewell.'

21, Cumberland-street, Portman-square, December 8.

In corroboration of the plan of Sir J. Sewell, the following very able remarks were addressed to the Editor of The Times.

'Sir,

'Having read Sir John Sewell's "Suggestions for a new Act of Parliament as to the Supply of Bodies for Dissection," I trust to your kindness in enabling me to express publicly my humble opinion on the same, conceiving them to be good and just in every respect excepting one, the idea of which I cannot but believe must disgust very many: I allude to the public sale of the body. Why, may I ask that gentleman, need it be sold at all, much less in so offensive a manner? Surely there can be no necessity whatever. Let, then, the bodies, as they ought in every instance, be presented gratuitously. Wheresoever the death may occur, or the inquest be held, let the coroner of the district be empowered to assign the body to the hospital of that district, or to bequeath it for the public good, according to any other satisfactory arrangement that may be concluded on the occasion.

'To Sir J. Sewell I would say, by presenting, instead of vending, you would go far towards annihilating the traffic of the "resurrection man" whose profits must thereby be materially diminished, as what hospital would they find anxious to purchase subjects of them at all, much less at the price they must necessarily demand, to compensate them for the risk encountered in procuring them, when these establishments can be sufficiently supplied in a lawful manner gratis?

'In conclusion, I humbly conceive that a law, based on Sir J. Sewell's "Suggestions," severally and collectively (save the one assumed to be offensive), would effect the utmost good; and if really so, ought accordingly to satisfy the people.

'It is, in every respect, such a plan as can alone defeat the sanguinary designs of body-snatching monsters; and once made law, would, no doubt, in a short time destroy their infernal commerce altogether.

'I am, Sir, Your obedient Servant, W. H. E.'

Saturday, December 10.

'P. S. With regard to Sir J. Sewell's suggestion as to the workhouse, in accordance with which the bodies of all such as have been maintained, and are about to be buried, at the parish expense, are to be given up for anatomical purposes, I am inclined to believe it would, if adopted, be productive of a twofold service, inasmuch as the practice might tend also to diminish the numbers of this class (who generally speaking prefer a life of degraded ease to one of honourable employment), by its inciting (which is likely) those most sensitive on the "subject" to work out an independent subsistence by their own assiduity; and with respect to such as cannot exist but by poor-house maintenance, their bodies, I should say, might nevertheless, in justice, be rendered serviceable after death, on the score of the important benefits experienced by them whilst living.

'W. H. E.'

On Thursday, the 15th, in the House of Commons, Mr. Warburton moved for leave to bring in a bill to regulate schools of anatomy. He reminded the House, that in 1829 he had introduced a bill of the same kind, which had passed this House, but had been rejected in another place. The political changes which had occurred since had occasioned him to defer the renewal of the attempt. The bill he now proposed to introduce differed in some respects from the other. It was more simple. Instead of requiring anatomical professors to obtain licenses, which had been objected to, he proposed the appointment of anatomical inspectors, by the Home Secretary, to whom returns were to be made, and who should inspect the schools. It had been objected to the former bill, that it made a distinction between the poor and the rich; his present bill was equally applicable to all; and he hoped, when it was considered what had been the enormous and necessary consequence of the present law,—the law was one thing and necessity another,—prejudices would give way, and that schools would be supplied with the subjects necessary for the promotion of science, and at reduced prices.

Mr. Hunt said, that unless this bill was materially different from the last, he should oppose it to the utmost. He hoped that a clause would be introduced to legalize the sale of a person's own body, which was now the property of his executor.

Mr. Sadler said that so far from the repugnance referred to being a prejudice, it was a principle which pervaded the whole world, and could not be eradicated without injury to the best feelings of our nature. Let the Bill be confined to those who were liberated from those prejudices. The poor would not bear it; the Bill would be unpopular, and justly so, and would tend to close the houses of mercy. It was said that a neighbouring country had overcome those prejudices: then let the principle of free trade be called into action, and our schools of anatomy be supplied with subjects from abroad.

Sir R. Vyvyan observed that there was a want of a clause in the former bill, repealing the law which subjected criminals to anatomy; for till that law was repealed, the public never would endure that other bodies should be exposed to what was thus made an indignity. Whatever might be in the bill, he hoped there would be nothing to offend the prejudices of the poor. Those who died in a poor-house or hospital were equally entitled to have their bodies respected as those who died elsewhere.

Mr. Warburton said that his bill would apply equally to rich and poor: no body would be given for dissection without the consent of the person when alive, or of the nearest relative after death.

Leave was then given.

On the bringing in of the Bill, Mr. Perceval recommended, that the mere possession of dead bodies should be held to be felony. The knowledge of surgery, he said, could not be lost in the space of two years, and if they were to try an experiment for that time, he was sure that medical men would then resort to the dissection of animals, and obtain, while conducted under proper regulations, all the knowledge necessary for their profession.

We have before, in another work, had the satisfaction of exposing the folly of this fungus of a legislator, when he attempted to impose upon the fasting mechanics and labourers of this country, a religious fast-day, or a general propitiation to Heaven for all the sins and crimes which have been committed generally and individually, since the time that fast-days went out of fashion! We did then hope that we should have heard no more of him; but in Mr. Warburton's Anatomy Bill being brought in, we were again enlightened by the sagacity and profundity of his remarks. Mr. Perceval certainly forms a component part of the legislative wisdom of this country, and certain it is (poor man!) that he is a specimen of it, that will not tend much to exalt the character of it. His recommendation that the mere possession of a dead body should be held to be a felony, is a lamentable specimen of folly, which makes us heartily rejoice that all the framers of our laws are not of the same mind, with the right honourable and downright nonsensical member of whom we are now speaking. Suppose Mr. Perceval's good lady, or one of her children, were to die, does the poor silly man wish to make himself guilty of felony, for having the dead body in his possession, when, morally, he would not be one jot more of a culprit than he is at present? The latter part of the paragraph, from his speech, is equally remarkable for its absurdity. He gives it as his opinion, that the knowledge of surgery would not be lost in two years, if, during that period, its study were discontinued. The Honourable Member's opinion on this point is, we fear, the result of self-examination. He, perhaps, finds that his own stock of knowledge remains the same, whether he studies or not; he discovers, perhaps, that he does not know one jot more about legislation and civil policy than he did many years ago, when he first ornamented St. Stephen's Chapel with his presence, and enlightened the members of it with the profundity of his researches. He argues, that as he has not gained anything by study—and no one will be so rude as to contradict him—there is nothing to be lost by not studying; but we have some reason to suppose, that he is as much mistaken in this particular as he is in the very view which he seems to have taken of humanity. Dissection of dead bodies he opposes as a matter merely of feeling; and at the same time expresses a hope that the surgeons will take to cutting up animals, by the torture of which Mr. Perceval trusts that science will be equally advanced without resorting to the revolting practice of human dissection. Putting, however, out of the question the savageness of this proposition, how would it work in other respects, to the end proposed by this most enlightened legislator. It would, he says, provide all the necessary anatomical knowledge; which in other words is saying, that there exists so strong an analogy between the anatomy and diseases of a man and a dog, that it is only necessary for the medical student to employ a Bishop or a Williams to burke a dozen of the canine species, and all the diseases incident to human nature will be fully developed, the treatment of them ascertained, and all the ends of science fully accomplished. Here again we see the danger of a person forming a judgment from his own individual self. It is the opinion of Mr. Perceval that, in point of utility, a beast is any day as useful as a man—consequently the honourable member regards the one in about the same light as he does the other. Alas! the consciousness of his own true value has made him exceedingly libellous upon the rest of the race to which he has the honour of belonging.

The hints which were thrown out by Sir John Sewell, in his letter to the editor of the Times, and inserted in a former part of this work, appear to have met with that serious attention which they so well merited. Still, however, in some respects, it must be owned that his plan is defective, and in consequence thereof, some strictures having been made in one of the public journals, Sir John addressed the following explanatory statement to the editor of the Times:—

'Sir,

'I am much obliged by your ready insertion of my letter of yesterday, as well as by your reference to, and observations upon it, in your own portion of the paper; in respect to which last I will beg leave to add a few lines in explanation of some parts of what I have already written.