THE universal horror which had been produced by the dreadful disclosures
which were the result of the case of Burke and Hare, had not yet
subsided when the atrocious crimes of these monsters were discovered and
brought to light. Frequent mysterious disappearances of persons in a
humble sphere of life are alleged to have taken place previously to this
melancholy proof of the continuance of the system shown to have been
carried on by Burke and his associates; and the police were on the
watch, anxiously waiting for any clue which might lead to the discovery
of the causes of these events, or which might tend to exhibit the
existence of the practices in London which were so much apprehended. The
opportunity which they sought was at length given to them in the case of
these miscreants; which, while it afforded positive evidence of the
horrible crimes which had been committed, delivered into their hands the
men who had been their perpetrators.
We have already alluded to the evils of the absence of legislative
provisions for the supply of subjects for dissection to the medical
schools of the large cities through this empire, and it will not be
necessary to enter now at large upon that question. It is, however,
worthy of remark, that although the crimes committed in the Scottish
metropolis were insufficient to awaken the attention of Parliament to
the importance of some enactment in reference to this most distressing
subject, the excitement produced throughout every grade of society by
the discovery of this new blow to the general safety and welfare of
mankind had that effect. A measure which had been before recommended to
Parliament to render the anatomisation of dead bodies legal, and to
regulate the supply of subjects to the medical schools, now received
universal attention; and some objectionable provisions having been
struck out, and replaced by others of a less questionable character, it
received the assent of the legislature.
It was on Saturday, the 5th of November, 1831, that these persons were
apprehended for the crime of which they were subsequently found guilty,
and for which they were executed. They were immediately conveyed to the
station-house of the F division of police, in Covent-garden, and on the
same night were taken in custody before Mr. Minshull, the sitting
magistrate at Bow-street Police-office. Bishop and Williams, however,
were not the only persons then charged; but James May and James Shields
were also in custody, an allegation of suspicion of murder being made
against them all generally. At this period little more than a mere
declaration that they were suspected to have been concerned in the
murder of a boy about fourteen years of age whose body they had offered
for sale at King’s College was made, and the prisoners were remanded to
await the result of the inquest which was directed to be held upon the
body of the deceased.
On Tuesday the 8th of November, a coroner’s jury sat upon the remains of
the unfortunate boy; the prisoners being in attendance to hear the
evidence adduced, and to give their account of the transaction.
The first witness called was William Hill, the porter at the
dissecting-room of King’s College. He stated that at about a quarter
before twelve on the previous Saturday, the 5th of November, the bell of
the dissecting-room having been rung, he went to the door, and found the
prisoners Bishop and May there. He had known them both before, from
their having supplied the college with subjects for dissection. May
asked him whether “he wanted anything;” which, in the language of such
persons, was intended to convey an inquiry as to whether he wanted to
buy a subject. He answered that he did not want anything particularly,
but inquired what he had got? The reply was, “A male subject.” He asked
of what size he was; and the prisoner said that he was a boy, about
fourteen years old, and he wanted twelve guineas. He told them that he
was sure that that price would not be given, for the school did not want
a subject; but he added, that if they would wait, he would acquaint Mr.
Partridge, the anatomical demonstrator, with their business. He
accordingly informed Mr. Partridge that the prisoners were there, and
that gentleman said that he would see them; and he, in consequence,
directed them to proceed to a particular part of the building, which was
appropriated to the use of such persons. He met them there, and they
were soon joined by Mr. Partridge, who refused to give them the price
they had demanded. May then said that he should have the body for ten
guineas; but this was still declared to be too much, and Mr. Partridge
went away. The prisoners again pressed the witness to purchase the
subject; and he, at their request, went after Mr. Partridge to ascertain
the greatest amount he would pay. Nine guineas was the sum fixed, and he
returned and acquainted the prisoners with the determination which had
been expressed to give no more than that amount. May said that he would
be d——d if it should come in at less than ten guineas; but on his
going out at the door, Bishop took witness aside, and said, “Never mind
May, he is drunk: it shall come in at nine guineas, in the course of
half-an-hour.” They then went away; but at about a quarter past two in
the afternoon they returned with Williams and Shields, the latter
carrying a hamper. May and Bishop carried the hamper into an inner room;
and on opening it, a sack appeared inside, which contained the body.
May, who was even more tipsy than he had been before, now took out the
sack, and turning it up, threw the body carelessly on the ground. He
remarked that it was “a good one;” to which witness assented: but he
observed that the body was particularly fresh and in consequence of some
other appearances which presented themselves, he went to Mr. Partridge.
Before he went, he asked the prisoners what the boy had died of; but May
answered that that was no business of theirs, or his either. He
directed them to wait in the adjoining room until his return. He
acquainted Mr. Partridge with his suspicions, and that gentleman, in
consequence, accompanied him to the room to look at the body. He thought
that the body was more rigid than usual, and it appeared to him as if it
had not been buried. The left hand was turned towards the head, and the
fingers were firmly clenched; and there was besides a cut on the
forehead, from which blood appeared to have issued upon the chest. Mr.
Partridge concurred with him in thinking that there were some suspicious
appearances about the body, and went away. Other gentlemen, students at
the college, soon after came, and were of the same opinion. Witness
inquired of the prisoners how the cut came in the forehead of the
deceased; and Bishop answered that May had done it, in throwing the body
on the ground. On Mr. Partridge’s return, he showed the prisoners a
50l. note, which he said he must send to get changed before he could
pay them. Bishop suggested that he should give them what money he had,
and they would call again on the following Monday for the remainder of
the price; but this was objected to, and Mr. Partridge again went away.
In about a quarter of an hour, Mr. Mayo, the professor of anatomy at the
college, came into the room, with Mr. Rogers, the inspector of police,
and some constables, and the prisoners were immediately given into
custody. The body was then delivered to the police, together with the
hamper and sack; and they, with the prisoners, were taken to the
station-house.
Mr. Richard Partridge was called, and he stated that he was demonstrator
of anatomy at King’s College. He was at the college on Saturday the 5th
of November. A body was brought there that day, and a communication was
made to him respecting it by the witness Hill, about two o’clock in the
afternoon. He, in consequence, went and looked at it. None of the
prisoners were present at the time. The body externally exhibited some
suspicious appearances, and it was those appearances which induced him
to go for the police. The suspicious appearances were, a swollen state
of the face, bloodshot eyes, freshness of the body, and the rigidity of
the limbs. There was likewise a cut over the left temple. The lips were
swollen. On returning to the college after going for the police, he
showed the 50l. note to May and Bishop, when he found them at the
bottom of the stairs leading to the anatomical department. He proposed
to them that change should be got for the 50l. note, with a view to
detain them until the police had arrived. On the following day he made a
more particular examination of the body at the police-station in
Covent-garden, where it lay. There were several medical men present at
the examination. Externally the body presented the following
appearances:—The muscles were still rigid, but not so much so as they
had been on the preceding day. There was a superficial wound on the
temple, which did not injure the bone. There was not any other
appearance of external injury: beneath the scalp, on the top of the
skull, there was some blood effused. On opening the body, the whole of
the contents of the chest and of the abdomen were found to be in a
perfectly healthy condition. The stomach was full; but he could not say
what the contents of it were. The brain, and its continuation, the
spinal cord or marrow, were likewise examined, and were found to be
perfectly healthy. In cutting down through the skin and muscles at the
back of the neck, in order to come at the bony canal in which the
spinal cord is contained, a quantity of coagulated blood was found in
the interstices of the muscles; and on removing the back part of the
bony canal, some blood was found upon the membrane which envelops the
spinal cord. There was coagulated blood opposite to the muscles, where a
blow might have been struck on the back of the neck. There was
uncoagulated blood found within the rest of the bony canal which
contains the spinal cord. The spinal marrow itself appeared to be
perfectly healthy, and there was no other remarkable appearance about
it. It was his opinion that the marks of internal violence which he had
stated were sufficient to produce death. He believed that the
appearances of internal violence to the spinal marrow had been caused by
a blow, or some other species of violence inflicted on the back of the
neck. The blow of a stick on the back of the neck might have caused such
appearances. He would not say positively that such an injury would
produce an instantaneous death, but he believed it would cause a very
speedy one. On the external examination of the body, he could not
discover any appearance of injury which would have been sufficient to
cause death.
Mr. George Beaman, the surgeon to the parish of St. Paul, Covent-garden,
had also examined the body, and his opinion corresponded with that
expressed by Mr. Partridge. His belief was that the deceased had died
within thirty-six hours of the time when he first saw it on the
Saturday; and he was also of opinion that the deceased had not died a
natural death. The face and tongue were swollen, the latter protruding
through the lips; the eyes were prominent and blood-shot. The teeth had
been removed, apparently immediately after death. The witness added,
that he was enabled to detect a slight smell of rum in the contents of
the stomach, but could not distinguish the nature of the food last
eaten. The process of digestion was going on at the time of death.
Mr. George Douchez gave similar evidence.
Mr. Joseph Sadler Thomas, superintendant of the F division of police,
deposed, that in consequence of information conveyed to him by Mr.
Partridge, he despatched Inspector Rogers and some other officers to the
King’s College, and in a short time the four prisoners were brought to
the station-house in custody. Rogers also brought the body, sack, and
hamper. The body was placed in the back room in the station-house, with
the hamper. The prisoners were all together, in the outer room. He asked
May what he had to say, for he was charged with having come into the
possession of the subject in an improper manner. He replied, “I have
nothing at all to do with it; the subject is that gentleman’s” (pointing
to Bishop). “I merely accompanied him to get the money for it.” He then
asked Bishop whose it was, and he said that it was his, and that he was
merely removing it from Guy’s Hospital to King’s College. He asked
Williams what he knew about it? He replied that he knew nothing about
it, and that he had gone with them to the King’s College to see the
building. He asked Bishop in the first instance what he was; and his
answer was, “I am a b—y body-snatcher.” All the prisoners, Bishop and
May especially, were labouring under the effects of liquor. May had
resisted violently on his being apprehended, and he was carried into the
station on all-fours, with his smock-frock turned over his head.
The only other witness examined was a person named Joseph Perrigalli, an
Italian, who was called to speak to the identity of the body. He
declared his firm belief that it was that of a boy named Carlo Ferrari,
who had been brought from Italy, and who gained a living by exhibiting
natural curiosities through the streets.
This concluded the proceedings of the first day’s inquisition, which was
then adjourned until Thursday, in order that the police might inspect
the house stated by the prisoners Bishop and Williams to be occupied by
them.
On that day, Higgins, a constable of the F division, was examined, and
he deposed, that he had ascertained that the prisoners lived at the
house No. 3, Nova Scotia Gardens, Bethnal Green. On proceeding thither
he had searched the house, and found all the tools usually employed by
body-snatchers. He believed that Bishop, Williams, and May, were of that
fraternity, and that Shields had been employed by them occasionally as a
porter.
Upon this evidence the jury were unable to come to any conclusive
decision upon the case, and they returned a verdict of “Wilful murder
against some person or persons unknown;” but expressed their strong
belief, that the prisoners, Bishop, Williams, and May, had been
concerned in the transaction.
It was impossible that an inquiry which had hitherto terminated so
unsatisfactorily should cease here, and Mr. Minshull, with that alacrity
and determination by which his conduct as a magistrate was always
characterised, immediately took upon himself the arduous and most
important task of conducting the investigation to its close. In this
duty he was most ably and, as it was on all hands admitted, most
humanely assisted by Mr. Corder, the vestry-clerk of the parish of St.
Paul, Covent-garden, whose exertions were most valuable and
praiseworthy, and by Mr. Thomas, the superintendant of police; and
through their agency a train of evidence was collected, which laid bare
the dreadful transaction in all its hideousness of guilt.
The inquiry which had concluded before the coroner on Thursday was
continued by Mr. Minshull on the ensuing day, when the same evidence
which we have detailed was repeated by the witnesses. The prisoners were
then remanded; but on Friday, the 18th of the month, they were again
brought up.
Witnesses were then examined, whose testimony traced the prisoners
Bishop, Williams, and May to a noted house-of-call for
body-snatchers—the Fortune of War public-house, in Smithfield—on the
4th November, where they appeared to be in earnest conversation. They
went in and out repeatedly during the day; and at night May was seen
with a number of human teeth in a handkerchief, to which some portion of
the flesh of the gum was still adhering, upon which he poured water, in
order to clean them. On the next morning Shields joined them, and Bishop
was heard endeavouring to induce him to go to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital
for a hamper, which he refused to do, in consequence of which Bishop
went and fetched it himself. They then went away, and were not again
seen.
Mr. Thomas, in addition to his former evidence, stated, that in
consequence of information which he had obtained, he had discovered the
teeth of the unfortunate boy at the house of Mr. Thomas Mills, a dentist
in Newington Causeway, who had handed them over to him, and was now
ready to state the circumstances under which they had come into his
possession.
Mr. Mills, of No. 39, Bridge-house-place, Newington Causeway, then
stated, that on Saturday, the 5th of November, May brought him a set of
teeth, for which he asked a guinea. Witness observed that one of the
front teeth was chipped, and said that it did not belong to the set;
upon which May said, “Upon my soul to God, they all belonged to one
head, and that not long since,” and added, that the body never had been
buried: he ultimately agreed to take 12s. for the teeth. Portions of
the gum were adhering to them, and part of the jaw-bone; there could be
no doubt that the teeth had been forcibly removed immediately after
death. He remarked to May, that the teeth, from appearance, belonged to
a female: his reply was, “The fact is, they belonged to a lad about
fourteen or fifteen years of age.”
While this witness was giving his evidence, the prisoner May appeared
for the first time to change countenance, and to lose that hardness of
nerve which had distinguished him throughout the whole previous
proceedings. He stared at the witness at first rather wildly, and
compressed his lips while listening attentively to the evidence; and as
soon as it was concluded, he endeavoured to resume his composure, and
forced a laugh; but, almost in a moment after, his countenance underwent
another change, and he muttered to himself as he looked over to the
witness, “The b—y rascal!” He then asked the witness if he was quite
sure of the exact words he had used, when he brought him the teeth, with
regard to the body not having been buried?
Witness.—You said that the body had never been buried.
The only other new witness examined on this day was a girl, eleven years
of age, named Martha King, who deposed to her having seen a boy
corresponding in appearance with the deceased, exhibiting white mice
near the prisoner Bishop’s cottage, in Nova Scotia Gardens, about the
time of the supposed murder; but Higgins and Kirkman, policemen,
produced new evidence, tending to confirm the belief in the horrid guilt
of the persons charged. Higgins, in a new search at Bishop’s house, had
found a pair of breeches stained with blood, and a brad-awl similarly
marked, which had apparently been used to extract the teeth of the
deceased; and Kirkman deposed to a conversation which he had heard pass
between Bishop and Williams on the former examination. Posting-bills had
been widely distributed through the metropolis, offering a reward for
the production of certain evidence against the prisoners, one of which
was fixed against the wall in the police-office. Bishop, intent upon
reading the bill, a passage in which referred to the marks of blood on
the body of the deceased, observed, “It was the blood that sold us,” and
then, continuing reading, in allusion to a reference to certain marks of
violence observable on the person of the deceased, he said “The marks of
violence were only the breakings-out on the skin.”
Upon the delivery of this evidence the examination concluded, and the
prisoners were again remanded.
Upon the following day, in obedience to a determination which had been
arrived at, that a new and more searching investigation of the
prisoners’ house and premises should take place, Mr. Thomas and Mr.
Corder, accompanied by Higgins and other constables, proceeded once more
to Nova Scotia Gardens, and there, after a minute investigation, they
made discoveries which filled them with horror, and confirmed, by the
most positive evidence, the suspicions which had been excited of the
murderous traffic which had been carried on. The particulars of these
discoveries were communicated to the magistrate on the same evening, but
they were not allowed to transpire until the next examination of the
prisoners, which, however, owing to the painful excitement which had
been created, and the anxious desire universally exhibited to learn the
nature of any new intelligence obtained, was ordered to take place on
the following Monday instead of Friday, to which day the prisoners had
been remanded.
On that day the new evidence was adduced. The first branch to which the
inquiry was directed, was that which traced the poor Italian boy to the
neighbourhood of Nova Scotia Gardens; and several witnesses were called,
whose testimony distinctly proved that he was observed there on the
evening of the Thursday before the 5th of November, wearing a brown
hairy cap, and carrying white mice for exhibition.
Higgins was then re-examined, and his testimony excited universal
horror, while it at once removed every doubt which might otherwise have
existed as to the guilt of two at least of the prisoners—Bishop and
Williams. He said, “I was instructed by Mr. Thomas to go with Wadey to
Bishop’s house and have the garden carefully dug up; I tried the ground
first with an iron rod on the west side of the garden close to the
palings, and about five yards from Bishop’s back door I found the rod
struck against something soft, and on digging, we found a blue jacket,
black trousers, and little shirt. I then tried the ground about a yard
further, and there we found a blue short coat, a pair of grey trousers
with braces on and a piece of a comb in the pocket, a striped waistcoat
the back of the collar of which was bloody, and a shirt torn down the
centre: the waistcoat must have been made for a larger person than the
last who wore it, as it has been roughly taken in at the back.”
In addition to this, Mr. Thomas deposed to the discovery of a brown
hairy cap in Bishop’s house; and witnesses were also called, who swore
that the second suit of clothes discovered, and the hairy cap, were
similar in every respect to the attire worn by the Italian boy when he
was last seen. The prisoners were then again remanded.
It is impossible to describe the impression which these new proofs
produced in the public mind, tending as they did to establish the fact,
not only of the murder of the Italian boy, but that other persons had
also fallen victims to the horrible machinations of the miscreants who
occupied the house in Nova Scotia Gardens. On the day after its
publication, mobs of persons assembled in the neighbourhood of the
house, and threatened, by their violent demeanour, to wreak their
vengeance by destroying the building. The police were compelled to
interfere to quell the anticipated riot, and to prevent the entrance of
the public to the building; but many thousands were permitted, upon
paying a small fee, to pass through the premises.
At an early hour on Wednesday morning, Higgins and some other constables
proceeded again to Nova Scotia Gardens, and commenced a new search. They
had not long been engaged in their work before their object was
discovered, and crowds of persons flocked to the spot. Their manner
denoted the anxiety with which they viewed what was going on, and a
strong body of police was necessary to prevent their interference with
the proceedings of the officers. The garden attached to Bishop’s house
was again dug up to the depth of four feet, and every portion of the
ground carefully sifted, but nothing worthy of notice was found; the
cesspool and privy in the garden were next examined with equal care, and
with the same result. But it was deemed prudent that an equally strict
search should be made in the ground attached to the adjoining house, No.
2, which had been formerly inhabited by Williams and his wife. For this
work several nightmen were employed to assist the police; and not only
was the garden dug up, but the cesspool and privy were thoroughly
emptied and examined. In the inspection of the privy, the men had been
but a short time at work when one of them brought up a thick roll of
something, which at first was thought to contain the body of a child,
but which, on inspection, proved to be an entire suit of female apparel.
The bundle was cleansed; and upon its contents being exposed, they
proved to consist of the following articles:—a black stuff or camlet
cloak; black worsted stockings, very coarse; a flannel petticoat, very
old and ragged, upon the top of which, near the waistband, were to be
seen two distinct marks of blood; a pair of stays very nearly worn out,
and patched, which were still laced in the usual way behind; an old
shift, and a dark plaid gown. The whole of these articles were cut or
torn down the front; and the presumption raised was, that the wearer
having been murdered, her clothes had been cut from her body.
New interest was produced by this discovery, and numerous were the
persons who called at the station-house for the purpose of inspecting
the clothes which had been found. It was not, however, until after the
final examination of the prisoners that they were identified; and we
shall abstain from giving the particulars of the occurrences which
followed their recognition, until we have detailed the concluding
evidence produced against the prisoners, and the final decision of the
magistrate upon their cases.
The last inquiry at Bow-street took place on Friday, the 25th of
November; and the attention of the magistrate was then principally
occupied by the production of formal evidence with regard to the
occupancy of the house, No. 3, Nova Scotia-gardens, by the prisoners
Bishop and Williams, and their families. Other testimony was also laid
before the bench, however, with regard to the removal of the body of the
deceased from Nova Scotia-gardens on Friday, the 4th of November, its
subsequent conveyance to Guy’s Hospital, where it was offered for sale,
and its tender, also, to a Mr. Appleton, the curator of Mr. Grainger’s
medical school in the Borough.
James Seagrave, driver of a cabriolet, stated:—“On the evening of
Friday, the 4th of November, I was with my cabriolet on the stand in the
Old Bailey. It was about six o’clock in the evening; and having put the
nose-bag on my horse, I went into the watering-house to take my tea. I
was called out, and saw May and Bishop. May asked me if I wanted a job,
and said he had ‘a long job.’ He took me on one side, and said he wanted
me to fetch ‘a stiff ’un;’ which I understood to mean a dead body. I
told him I did not know, but asked what he would stand; he told me he
would stand a guinea. I said that I had not finished my tea, and that my
horse had not done his corn. He said that we would take tea together. I
went into the public-house, followed by May and Bishop. They took their
seats, and called for tea for two. Some person in the room jogged me by
the elbow, and hinted that the men were “snatchers;” and I determined
not to go with them. I had previously made up my mind not to go with
them. After tea I went out, and drove my cabriolet to the bottom of the
rank. I afterwards saw May and Bishop going up the rank among the
coaches, and I drove off, leaving them apparently making a bargain with
the coachmen.”
It appeared that their efforts to obtain a coach there were
unsuccessful, and they had recourse to the stand in Bridge-street,
Blackfriars, but with no better effect; but they eventually procured a
yellow chariot from the rank in Farringdon-street.
George Gissing, a boy, was then examined. He said, “I am twelve years
old. My father keeps the Bird-cage public-house, Crab-tree-road, near
Nova Scotia-gardens. On the evening of the 4th of November, about
half-past six o’clock, I saw a yellow hackney-chariot draw up opposite
my father’s house. It is very near Nova Scotia-gardens. I know Bishop’s
cottage in Nova Scotia-gardens. It is but a short distance from my
father’s house. I did not see who got out of the chariot. I afterwards
saw the prisoner, Williams, standing on the fore-wheel of the chariot,
talking to the driver. The chariot waited ten or fifteen minutes. The
door was open all the time. Williams went down to Nova Scotia-gardens;
and, in ten or fifteen minutes, he returned and got into the chariot.
Then I saw a strange man carrying a sack in his arms, and Bishop holding
up one end of it. They put it in the chariot. Williams put out his hand
to help it in. The sack appeared as if something heavy was in it. Bishop
and the other man got into the chariot along with Williams, and they
drove up Crab-tree-road and towards Shoreditch church, on the road to
the city.” The boy added, that Bishop was looked upon as the
father-in-law of Williams; and the wedding supper of the last-named
prisoner had been held at his (witness’s) father’s house, about two
months before.
Thomas Davis, porter to the dissecting-room at Guy’s Hospital,
stated:—On Friday evening, the 4th of November, about seven o’clock,
May and Bishop came to the hospital, May carrying a sack; I knew them
before; they asked me if I wanted to purchase a subject; I declined to
purchase it, and they asked me if I would allow them to leave it in the
hospital until the following morning; I acceded to their request, and
locked the body up in a room during the night. Next morning, between the
hours of eleven and twelve, I saw May and Bishop in the hospital. Having
been out, I returned to the hospital, and ascertained that the body had
been taken away. I had only seen a foot out of the sack, and I believed
it was either that of a boy or a female; it was not large enough for
that of a man.
Mr. Appleton then deposed, that May and Bishop had offered the body to
him on the same evening, but he had declined purchasing it; and this
closed the case.
The prisoners were called on to make any declarations they chose in
reference to the case, before their final committal, and they addressed
the bench in the following terms:—
Bishop.—“I dug the body out of the grave. The reason why I decline to
say the grave I took it out of is, that there were two watchmen in the
ground, and they entrusted me; and, being men of family, I don’t wish to
deceive them. I don’t think I can say anything more. I took it for sale
to Guy’s Hospital, and, as they did not want it, I left it there all
night and part of the next day, and then I removed it to the King’s
College. That is all I can say about it. I mean to say that this is the
truth. I shall certainly keep it a secret where I got the body. I know
nothing as to how it died.”
May said, “he wished to say what he knew, and would speak the truth.” He
then said “his name was James May, and that he lived in Dorset-street,
Newington. He went into the country on Sunday, the 29th of October, and
returned on the evening of Wednesday, and went to Mr. Grainger’s, in
Webb-street, with a couple of subjects. On the following morning
(Thursday), he removed them to Mr. Davis’s, at Guy’s; and, after
receiving the money, he went away to the Fortune-of-War, in Smithfield,
and stayed there about two or three hours. Between four and five
o’clock, to the best of his recollection, he went to Nag’s-head-court,
Golden-lane, and there he stopped with a female until between eleven and
twelve o’clock the next day (Friday). From Golden-lane he went to the
Fortune-of-War again, and stopped drinking there until six o’clock or
half-past. Williams and Bishop both came in there, and asked him if he
would ‘stand anything’ to drink; which he did. Bishop then called him
out, and asked him where he could get the best price for ‘things.’ He
told him where he had sold two, meaning Guy’s; and he (Bishop) then told
him that he had got a good subject, and had been offered eight guineas
for it. He (May) replied, that he could get more for it; and then Bishop
said, that all he could get over nine guineas he might have for himself.
He agreed to it; and they went from thence to the Old Bailey, and had
some tea at the watering-house there, leaving Williams at the
Fortune-of-War. After tea they called a chariot off the stand, and drove
to Bishop’s house. When there, Bishop showed him the lad in a box, or
trunk. He (May) put it into a sack, and brought it to the chariot, and
conveyed it to Mr. Davis’s, at Guy’s. Mr. Davis said, “You know, John, I
cannot take it; because I took two of you yesterday, and I have not got
names enough down for one, or I would take it.’ He (May) then asked him
if he could leave the body there that night, and he said he might.
Bishop then desired Mr. Davis not to let any person have it, as it was
his subject, but to deliver it to his ownself. He (May) also told Mr.
Davis not to let the body go without him, or he should be money out of
pocket. May then went on to say, that he went to his own house and slept
there that night, and the next morning he went to Guy’s, and Bishop and
Shields came in with a hamper, which was taken to King’s College, where
he was taken into custody.”
John Williams stated, “That in the first place he met Bishop on Saturday
morning, the 5th of November, in Long-lane, Smithfield, and asked him
where he was going. He said he was going to the King’s College. They
went into the Fortune-of-War public-house; and, after that, Bishop went
to Guy’s Hospital, and then to the King’s College. May and the porter
met them against the gate. Bishop went in, and he (Williams) asked him
to let him go in with him. That was all he had got to say, except that a
porter took a basket from the Fortune-of-War to Guy’s Hospital, and he
(Williams) helped him part of the way with it.”
The case being thus concluded at the police-office, the prisoners
Bishop, Williams, and May, were committed to Newgate to take their
trial. Shields, however, who, it was admitted on all hands, was only the
porter employed by the other prisoners to carry the body, and of whose
knowledge of the murder there was not the smallest evidence, was
discharged out of custody.
We shall now lay before our readers the statement of the circumstances
attending the identification of the clothes found at the house which had
been occupied by the prisoner Williams, at Nova Scotia Gardens, and
which eventually proved to have belonged to a woman named Frances
Pigburn, another victim to the designs of these atrocious conspirators.
Three persons—named Mrs. Lowe, wife of James Lowe, of Great
Charles-street East, City-road; Mrs. Mayo, her daughter; and a Mrs.
Hitchwell—came forward at Bow-street on Saturday, the 26th of November,
to speak as to their belief of the identity of the clothes, and to give
an account of the disappearance of the unfortunate woman to whom they
belonged.
Mrs. Lowe stated, that Mrs. Pigburn was her sister, and was forty years
of age. On the night of the 15th of October, she left her house to go to
a Mr. Campion’s, in Church-street, about half-a-mile from Bishop’s
cottage, where she intended to sleep, and where witness promised to call
upon her on the ensuing morning. On the following morning witness did
call at Campion’s, but, to her surprise, discovered that her sister was
not there, as she had left on the preceding evening, at nine o’clock, to
seek another lodging, from their inability to accommodate her. From that
morning they had heard no tidings of her, till their suspicions were
aroused by the perusal of a bill, put forth by Mr. Thomas, describing
the female attire already alluded to. These she determined to examine,
and for that purpose went to the station-house, where she at once
recognised them to be those of her sister; she could speak positively to
the camlet cloak, plaid gown, &c.; she could not speak to the petticoat
and shift, the former of which had marks of blood upon it.
Mr. Thomas stated that a further search had been made at the house of
Bishop, and in the garden a well had been discovered, from the bottom of
which a shawl, which he produced, had been brought up. Mrs. Lowe was
able to identify this also as having belonged to her sister; and he gave
it as his opinion that in all probability the poor woman had been
inveigled into the premises, and thrust head-foremost into the well,
where her shawl had fallen in the struggle.
Mrs. Hitchwell, who knew the deceased intimately, also recognised the
pocket, and produced the fellow to it; both pockets had been made by a
Mrs. Bell, who gave Mrs. Pigburn one, and her the other; both pockets
were made of blue cloth, and singularly formed; to the other articles
she also spoke with confidence, having seen Mrs. Pigburn wear them on
the 15th of October, which was also the last day she had seen her.
Mrs. Mayo, niece to Frances Pigburn, also identified the clothes, and
spoke more particularly to the shawl, which she had seen Mrs. Pigburn
wear.
Mr. Minshull said no doubt could exist that the clothes were the same
which had been worn by Frances Pigburn, and he feared there was as
little doubt that the poor woman had been murdered. It was inferred that
the body had been sold for the purposes of dissection, and the clothes
thrown down the privy to avoid detection. In all probability the poor
creature was in search of lodgings, and being met by some of the
infernal gang, was lured into their den and there destroyed. To what
extent these horrors had been committed it was impossible to imagine.
A further warrant for the detention of Bishop, May, and Williams, upon
this fresh charge, was then made out, and Mr. Thomas was requested to
make every possible inquiry among the hospitals and dissecting-rooms in
the metropolis, to ascertain, if possible, whether any body, answering
the description of Mrs. Pigburn, had been offered for sale by any of the
prisoners within the last six weeks. Mr. Thomas said he would not relax
his efforts to throw every light on these horrible transactions, and
thus the inquiry terminated.
On Friday, December the 2nd, 1831, the prisoners Bishop, May, and
Williams, were placed at the bar of the Old Bailey to take their trial,
upon the charge of murder preferred against them.
The court was crowded to excess at eight o’clock in the morning, the
greatest anxiety being manifested to witness the proceedings.
The indictment charged the prisoners with the wilful murder of Carlo
Ferrari, and the second count with the wilful murder of a male person,
whose name was unknown. At ten o’clock Chief Justice Tindal, Mr. Justice
Littledale, and Mr Baron Vaughan took their seats upon the bench, the
remaining portion of which was instantly occupied by members of the
nobility and persons of distinction, amongst whom was observed His Royal
Highness the Duke of Sussex.
The prisoners, on being placed at the bar, seemed but little moved by
the awful situation in which they were at that moment placed; and they
encountered the inquisitive glances of the assembled crowd with a
careless air. Their appearance rather indicated low cunning than
hardened ferocity.
Mr. Bodkin having opened the case,
Mr. Adolphus proceeded to state the leading facts of it to the jury. In
doing so, he said that he did not feel it necessary to solicit their
most serious attention to it, for he knew that it would receive such
attention from them, being a case in which the three prisoners at the
bar stood charged with the foul crime of murder; and one of which, as
persons living in society, they must have heard a great deal for many
days past. Aware as he was that they knew this to be a case of great and
important interest, he felt certain that they required no suggestions
from him to induce them to pay the strictest attention to all its
details; and having alluded to the interest which it excited out of
doors, he was sure that he need scarcely remind them, that they should
not allow themselves to be at all swayed by any thing that they might
have heard with regard to this case previous to their entering that box,
but that their duty there was merely to judge the case by the evidence
which should be laid before them. When he spoke of their deciding on
this case according to the evidence which should be laid before them, he
begged to say that there was one point to which he was anxious to call
their particular attention. In cases of murder, it often happened that
the direct evidence of eye-witnesses could not be produced as to the
blow which had been struck, or the injury which had been inflicted, and
the infliction of which constituted the crime; but it was settled by the
constitution of this country, that in all cases of the kind a jury might
select, from the circumstances of the evidence laid before them, such
facts as might produce a conviction in their minds as to the guilt of
the prisoners charged with the offence. The application of the facts and
circumstances of a case for such a purpose was, by the law of the land,
vested in a jury constituted as they now were;—and it was for them to
decide according to the evidence which should be laid before them, as it
appeared to their minds; it was for them, after they had heard the great
body of evidence which would be submitted to them in this case, to say
whether the prisoners were or were not guilty of the heinous crime laid
to their charge. If the facts which would be laid before them should
produce on their minds a conviction of the guilt of the prisoners, he
was sure that they would without hesitation pronounce a verdict which
would consign some, if not all of them, to a certain, speedy, and
ignominious death; and he was equally sure that if an opposite
conviction was the result of the evidence, the jury would at once acquit
the prisoners at the bar. Without further introduction, he would proceed
to state to them the facts which had given rise to this painful and
extraordinary inquiry, as he felt justified in calling it; for the
murder to which it had reference did not appear to have been committed
through any of those motives that had ordinarily occasioned the
commission of such a crime in this country. It was not to gratify
revenge for wrong done, that the unfortunate victim, in this instance,
had been deprived of existence. The minds of his murderers were
stimulated by no passion of that description to the commission of the
dreadful deed. Neither wealth, nor the other common allurements which
influenced the actions of wicked men under such circumstances, had
impelled them to perpetrate this crime. Nothing but the sordid and base
desire to possess themselves of a dead body, in order to sell it for
dissection, had induced the prisoners at the bar to commit the crime for
which they were now about to answer before a jury of their countrymen.
The learned gentleman then proceeded to detail the facts of the case, as
they were afterwards stated in the evidence subsequently produced. He
dwelt in terms of well-deserved eulogy on the meritorious exertions of
Mr. Thomas, the superintendant of police, and of Mr. Corder, the
vestry-clerk of St. Paul’s, Covent-garden, in prosecuting the inquiry
which had led to the trial. He acknowledged that the case depended on
circumstantial evidence; but he contended that a large and
well-connected body of such testimony was, in many cases, superior to
the positive declarations of eye-witnesses. The judgment of an
eye-witness might be deceived; but it was impossible that the jury,
after putting all the circumstances of the case together, and weighing
them seriously and deliberately, could be mistaken in their decision; it
was for them to say, after doing so, whether the prisoners at the bar
were, or were not guilty of the crime with which they stood charged. He
was convinced that they would give this important case the deep and
serious attention which it deserved; and he relied confidently on the
integrity and good sense of a British jury, which a long life of
practice had left him no room to doubt.
The evidence, the particulars of which we have recited, was then
adduced, Mr. Curwood and Mr. Barry, on behalf of the prisoners,
cross-examining the witnesses examined, with little effect in impugning
their evidence.
The prisoners being called on for their defence, they put in written
statements. Bishop’s was first read to the Court. He said that he was
thirty-three years of age, and had followed the occupation of a carrier
till the last five years, during which he had occasionally obtained a
livelihood by supplying surgeons with subjects. He most solemnly
declared that he had never disposed of any body that had not died a
natural death. He had been in the habit of obtaining bodies from
workhouses, with their clothes on, so that he could have no difficulty
in procuring them after a natural death. The statement then went on to
describe the localities of the prisoner’s residence, in order to show
that they admitted of great facilities of ingress and egress to all
persons in the neighbourhood. His garden and premises were open to them,
and theirs to him. With respect to the clothes found in his garden, he
knew nothing. As to the cap, he should be able to prove that it was
bought by his wife from a woman named Dodswell, who resided in Hoxton
Old Town. The prisoner called upon the jury to divest their minds of all
undue prejudices, and judge his case by the evidence alone. By so doing,
they would be discharging their duty, and would acquit him of the crime
then alleged against him. In conclusion, the prisoner declared that
neither Williams nor May knew how he had procured the body.
Williams’ defence briefly stated that he had never been engaged in the
business of a resurrectionist; and that he had only, by accident,
accompanied Bishop on the sale of this body.
May admitted his employment, for the last six years, in the disgusting
trade of selling dead bodies, but he denied that he had ever had
anything to do with the sale of subjects which had not died a natural
death. He then repeated the explanation of his conduct on this occasion,
which he had before given; and stated that, on the night of the supposed
murder, he was sleeping with a girl named Carpenter.
Rosina Carpenter was then examined, and deposed that the prisoner May
came to her on the afternoon of Thursday, the 3rd of November, at her
lodgings in Macbeth-court, Golden-lane, and that he stayed with her
until twelve o’clock the next day. She had known him for fourteen or
fifteen months, and had been frequently in his company.
Mrs. Mary Dodswell, of 26, Hoxton Old Town, was called to prove the sale
of the brown cap to Bishop’s wife; but her evidence totally failed in
this particular.
The Chief Justice then proceeded to recapitulate the evidence to the
jury, first warning them of the necessity of founding their decision on
the evidence then adduced, without being at all influenced by statements
made elsewhere. The indictment contained two counts—one charging the
prisoners at the bar with the murder of Carlo Ferrari, an Italian boy;
the other with the murder of a boy, name unknown. The jury would learn
from this circumstance, that it was by no means necessary that the name
of the murdered party should be known, and that all that they had to
decide was, the fact itself. They accordingly would first direct their
attention to the determining the fact whether the body which the
prisoners had proffered for sale had come by a natural death or not; and
next, whether, if they were of opinion that it had not, the prisoners
were the murderers, and to what degree they were implicated. With
respect to the first point, he thought they would experience but little
trouble after the explicit evidence of the medical gentleman who had
been that day examined, and whose conduct, it was but justice to say,
was an honourable rebuke to any calumnious imputation on the medical
profession to which the present case might have given birth. The learned
judge then went through the evidence with the most pains-taking
minuteness, commenting on those points which, in his mind, would enable
the jury to determine the guilt of the prisoners, and their share in the
crime. The evidence, to show that May was present, or participated in
the actual offence, he remarked, was by no means decisive; so that the
jury would have to determine how far he was, or was not, a principal or
accessory. It might be that they would arrive at the conclusion that
Bishop alone, or Bishop and Williams, were the criminals,—and in such
case they would find a verdict of acquittal for May; or it might be,
that they would find that all three were equally guilty; or that they
were guilty, but not in an equal degree. Their verdict would be
according to their decision on this point, rendering it incumbent on
them cautiously to weigh those parts of the evidence which bore
particularly on Bishop and Williams, and on the other prisoner. He left
it to their unbiassed judgment, to find according to the evidence which
had been submitted to them.
At eight o’clock the jury retired to consider their verdict, and the
prisoners were removed from the bar, and taken out of court. The
interval between that and the return of the jury, was a period of
intense anxiety to every one in court; and, as is usual on such
occasions, there were various conjectures hazarded as to what would be
the verdict. That a verdict of “Guilty” would be returned against two of
the prisoners, namely, Bishop and Williams, none who had heard the
evidence, and the summing up of the learned judge, could doubt; but the
same confident opinion by no means existed with respect to the fate of
the prisoner May.
These conjectures and speculations were put an end to by the return of
the jury at half-past eight o’clock.
The most death-like silence now prevailed throughout the court,
interrupted only by a slight buz on the re-introduction of the
prisoners.
Every eye was fixed upon them; but though their appearance and manner
had undergone a considerable change since their being first placed at
the bar, they did not seem conscious of the additional interest which
their presence at this moment excited.
Bishop advanced to the bar with a heavy step, and with a slight bend of
the body; his arms hung closely down, and it seemed a kind of relief to
him, when he took his place, to rest his hand on the board before him.
His appearance, when he got in front, was that of a man who had been for
some time labouring under the most intense mental agony, which had
brought on a kind of lethargic stupor. His eye was sunk and glassy; his
nose drawn and pinched; the jaw fallen, and the mouth open; but
occasionally the mouth closed, the lips became compressed, and the
shoulders and chest raised, as if he were struggling to repress some
violent emotion. After a few efforts of this kind, he became apparently
calm, and frequently glanced his eyes towards the bench and the
jury-box; but this was done without once raising his head. His face had
that pallid appearance which so often accompanies and betokens great
mental suffering.
Williams came forward with a short quick step; and his whole manner was
the reverse of that of his companion in guilt. His face had undergone
very little change; but in his eye and in his manner there was a
feverish anxiety, which was not to be observed during the trial. When he
came in front, and laid his hand on the bar, the rapid movement of his
fingers on the board—the frequent shifting of the hand, sometimes
letting it hang down for an instant by his side, then replacing it on
the board, and then resting his side against the front of the dock,
showed the perturbed state of his feelings. Once or twice he gave a
glance round the bench and the bar, but after that he seldom took his
eye from the jury-box.
May came forward with a more firm gait than either of his
fellow-prisoners; but his look was that of a man who thought that all
chance of life was lost. He seemed desponding; but there appeared that
in his despondency which gave an air of—we could not call it daring, or
even confidence—we should rather say, a physical power of endurance,
which imparted to his whole manner a more firm bearing than that of the
other prisoners. He was very pale, but his eye had not relaxed from that
firmness which was observable in his glance throughout the whole of the
trial.
Ordinary physiognomists, who (without having seen the prisoners) had
read the accounts of their examinations at the police-office—of their
habits and mode of living, and the horrible atrocities with which there
is now no doubt they were familiar—would have been greatly disappointed
in the appearance of all of them as they stood at the bar. There was
nothing in the aspect or manner of any of them which betokened a
predisposition to anything like the outrage on humanity of which they
stood convicted. There was something of heaviness in the aspect of
Bishop, but altogether his countenance was mild. Williams had that kind
of expression with which men associate the idea of sharpness and
cunning, and something of mischief, but nothing of the villain. May, who
was the best-looking of the three, had a countenance which most persons
would consider open and manly. There was an air of firmness and
determination about him; but neither in him nor his companions was there
the slightest physiognomical trait of a murderer, according to the
common notions on the subject.
When the three prisoners were placed at the bar, the names of the jury
were called over, and on being asked whether they had agreed to their
verdict, they answered that they had.
The question was then put to them as to each of the prisoners, and they
returned as their verdict, that John Bishop, Thomas Williams, and James
May were severally “Guilty of murder.”
The verdict was received in court with becoming silence; but in a moment
it was conveyed to the immense multitude assembled outside, who evinced
their satisfaction at the result, by loud and long-continued cheering
and clapping of hands. To such an extent was this expression of the
popular feeling carried, that the windows of the court were obliged to
be closed, in order that the voice of the Recorder might be heard in
passing sentence.
The prisoners were severally called upon to say why sentence of death
and execution should not be pronounced upon them; but none of them
availed themselves of this opportunity of addressing the Court.
The Recorder then proceeded to pass the awful sentence of death upon
them, but was for some moments again interrupted by the renewed shouts
of the populace from without. Silence having been restored, the learned
judge proceeded:—
“Prisoners at the bar, you have been tried by a most attentive and
extremely humane jury; and I may say of them, as I have been frequently
called upon to say before of juries in that box, that nothing but the
most painful feelings of duty, imposed on them under a solemn obligation
to their Maker and the public, could have induced them to pronounce a
verdict against fellow-creatures, which sentenced them to die. That they
have formed a just conclusion—[Here Williams exclaimed, “It is false
evidence!”]—every man of common understanding must allow. I shall not
detain you long by the few observations which I have to make,
considering that your hours are numbered, and that there will be but a
very short time between the present moment and that when you will have
to appear in the presence of your Creator, to answer for the crime which
has this day been proved against you. You have each of you been
committed to jail for nearly a month; and I hope that you have employed
that time in looking back upon the course of your guilty lives—for most
guilty they have been—violating the laws of your country, and harrowing
up the feelings of every relation that may have lost one that was dear
to him. I hope from the time you have been in the jail,
conscience-stricken as you must have been, you have turned your thoughts
to the only source that remained for you—that of diligently seeking
that mercy which you may even yet hope for by sincere repentance, and
ardent and constant prayers to the Almighty. But if you have lost those
precious moments, let me at all events exhort you not to lose another
instant of that short period which the laws of society still leave you.
The inhumanity and cruelty with which you have committed this crime,
have spread a degree of horror through the metropolis, and indeed, I may
say, through the whole country. But deeply as you have injured society,
and perilously violated the laws, those laws, which are always
administered with charity, have provided that in your awful situation
you shall have the most zealous assistance of a pious and excellent
clergyman of the Church of England, or of any other church to which you
may belong; and I hope you will not neglect the solemn warnings and kind
admonitions which you will receive from that quarter. I will not
trespass on you by making any further observations, but now confine
myself to the last painful duty which the law requires of the Court,
viz., to pass the awful and dreadful sentence of the law; and that is,
that you, John Bishop, you Thomas Williams, and you James May, be taken
from this bar to the place from whence you came, and from thence, on
Monday morning next, you be taken to the place of execution, and there
each of you be hanged by the neck till each of you be dead, after which
your bodies are to be given to the surgeons for dissection; and may the
Lord God Almighty, the father of all mercies, have mercy on your
miserable souls.”
The prisoners scarcely gave any intimation, by their outward appearance,
of the awful situation in which they were placed. They were immediately
removed from the bar; but before they quitted the court, May exclaimed,
“I am a murdered man;” and Williams leaned over the front of the bar,
and muttering and pointing at some of the witnesses, declared that they
were all murdered men, and that the witnesses would suffer for the false
evidence they had given.
During the period which intervened between the conviction of the
prisoners and the execution of Bishop and Williams (who only underwent
the extreme penalty of the law), the most earnest exhortations were
employed to induce a full confession of their guilt. The Rev. Mr.
Cotton, the ordinary, remained in constant attendance on the prisoners,
and by his exertions evidently produced considerable impression on their
minds. On the nights of Friday and Saturday, two men sat up with each of
the convicts, and the little sleep which they were able to procure was
frequently disturbed.
On Sunday the usual sermon was preached in the jail chapel, and after
that the prisoners Bishop and Williams, being placed in the same cell,
were visited by the ordinary and under sheriffs, to whom they made the
following confessions.
We give these statements as they were delivered by the prisoners, but
serious doubts, even amounting to positive belief, are entertained that
they were not full declarations of the crimes of which the wretched
malefactors had been guilty.
“Newgate, December 4, 1831.
“I, John Bishop, do hereby declare and confess that the boy
supposed to be the Italian boy was a Lincolnshire boy. I and
Williams took him to my house about half-past ten o’clock on
Thursday night, the 3rd of November, from the Bell, in Smithfield.
He walked home with us. Williams promised to give him some work.
Williams went with him from the Bell to the Old Bailey
watering-house, whilst I went to the Fortune-of-War. Williams came
from the Old Bailey watering-house to the Fortune-of-War for me,
leaving the boy standing at the corner of the court by the
watering-house in the Old Bailey. I went directly with Williams to
the boy, and we then walked all three to the Nova Scotia-gardens,
taking a pint of stout at a public-house near Holywell-lane,
Shoreditch, on our way, of which we gave the boy a part; we only
staid just to drink it, and walked on to my house, where we arrived
at about eleven o’clock. My wife and children and Mrs. Williams
were not gone to bed, so we put him in the privy, and told him to
wait there for us. Williams went in and told them to go to bed, and
I remained in the garden. Williams came out directly and we both
walked out of the garden a little way to give time for the family
getting to bed; we returned in about ten minutes or a quarter of an
hour, and listened outside the window to ascertain whether the
family were gone to bed. All was quiet; and we then went to the boy
in the privy, and took him into the house; we lighted a candle, and
gave the boy some bread-and-cheese; and after he had eaten, we gave
him a cup full of rum, with about half a small phial of laudanum in
it. I had bought the rum the same evening in Smithfield, and the
laudanum also in small quantities at different shops. There was no
water or other liquid put into the cup with the rum and laudanum.
The boy drank the contents of the cup directly in two draughts, and
afterwards a little beer. In about ten minutes he fell asleep in
the chair on which he sat, and I removed him from the chair to the
floor and laid him on his side. We then went out and left him
there. We had a quartern of gin and a pint of beer at the Feathers,
near Shoreditch Church, and then went home again, having been away
from the boy about twenty minutes. We found him asleep as we had
left him. We took him directly, asleep and insensible, into the
garden, and tied a cord to his feet, to enable us to pull him up
by; and I then took him in my arms, and let him slide from them
headlong into the well in the garden; whilst Williams held the cord
to prevent the body going altogether too low in the well. He was
nearly wholly in the water, his feet being just above the surface.
Williams fastened the other end of the cord round the paling, to
prevent the body getting beyond our reach. The boy struggled a
little with his arms and legs in the water, and the water bubbled a
minute. We waited till these symptoms were passed, and then went
indoors, and afterwards I think we went out and walked down
Shoreditch to occupy the time; and in three quarters of an hour we
returned, and took him out of the well, by pulling him by the cord
attached to his feet. We undressed him in the paved yard, rolled
his clothes up, and buried them where they were found by the
witness who produced them. We carried the boy into the wash-house,
laid him on the floor, and covered him over with a bag. We left him
there, and went and had some coffee in Old-street-road, and then (a
little before two in the morning of Friday) went back to my house.
We immediately doubled the body up, and put it into a box, which we
corded so that nobody might open it to see what it was, and then
went again and had some more coffee at the same place in the
Old-Street-road, where we staid a little while, and then went home
to bed—both in the same house, and to our own beds, as usual. We
slept till about ten o’clock on Friday morning, when we got up,
took breakfast together with the family, and went both of us to the
Fortune-of-War in Smithfield. We had something to eat and drink
there; and after we had been there about half-an-hour, May came in.
I knew May, but had not seen him for a fortnight before. He had
some rum with me at the bar, Williams remaining in the tap-room.
May and I went to the door. I had a smock frock on, and May asked
where I had bought it? I told him, in Field-lane. He said he wanted
to buy one, and asked me to go with him; I went with him to
Field-lane, where he bought a frock at the corner shop. We then
went into a clothes’ shop in West-street to buy a pair of breeches,
but May could not agree about the price; he was rather in liquor,
and sent out for some rum, which we and the woman in the shop drank
together. May said he would treat her, because he had given her a
good deal of trouble for nothing. We then returned to the
Fortune-of-War, and joined Williams, and had something more to
drink; we waited there a short time, and then Williams and I went
to the West-end of the town, leaving May at the Fortune-of-War.
Williams and I went to Mr. Tuson’s, in Windmill-street, where I saw
Mr. Tuson, and offered to sell him a subject, meaning the boy we
had left at home. He said he had waited so long for a subject which
I had before undertaken to procure him, that he had been obliged to
buy one the day before. We went from thence to Mr. Carpue’s in
Dean-street, and offered it to him in the lecture-room with other
gentlemen. They asked me if it was fresh; I told them, ‘Yes,’ and
they told me to wait. I asked them ten guineas; and after waiting a
little, a gentleman there said they would give eight guineas, which
I agreed to take, and engaged to carry it there the next morning at
ten o’clock. I and Williams then returned to the Fortune-of-War; we
found May in the tap-room; this was about a quarter before four
o’clock in the afternoon; we had something to drink again, and I
called May out to the outside of the house, and asked what was the
best price given for ‘things?’ He said he had sold two the day
before for ten guineas each, I think. I told him I had a subject;
he asked what sort of one; I said, a boy about fourteen years old,
and that I had been offered eight guineas for it. He said, if it
was his, he would not take it; he could take it where he sold his
for more. I told him all he could get above nine guineas he might
have for himself, and we agreed to go presently and get a coach. I
and May then went to the bar and had something more to drink, and
then, leaving Williams at the Fortune-of-War, we went and tried to
hire a cab in the Old Bailey. The cabman was at tea at the
watering-house, and we went in and spoke to him about a fare, and
had tea also there ourselves. Whilst we were at tea, the cabman
went away, and we found him gone from the stand when we came out.
We then went to Bridge-street, Blackfriars, and asked a coachman
whether he would take such a fare as we wanted; he refused, and we
then went to Farringdon-street, where we engaged a yellow chariot.
I and May got in, drove to the Fortune-of-War, and (Williams having
joined us at the George, in the Old Bailey) we then drank something
again; and then, at about six o’clock, we all three went in the
chariot to Nova Scotia-gardens. We went into the wash-house, where
I uncorded the box and showed the body to May. He asked, ‘How are
the teeth?’ I said I had not looked at them. Williams went and
fetched a brad-awl from the house, and May took it and forced the
teeth out. It is a constant practice to take the teeth out first;
because, if the body be lost, the teeth are saved. After the teeth
were taken out, we put the body in a bag and took it to the
chariot. May and I carried the body, and Williams got first into
the coach, and then assisted in pulling the body in. We all then
drove off to Guy’s Hospital, where we saw Mr. Davis, and offered to
sell the body to him. He refused, saying that he bought two the day
before of May. I asked him to let us leave it there until the next
morning; he consented, and we put it into a little room, the door
of which Mr. Davis locked. Williams was during this left in the
chariot. I told Mr. Davis not to let the subject go to anybody
unless I was there, for it belonged to me; and May also told him
not to let it go unless he was present, or else he should be money
out of pocket. I understood this to mean the money paid by May for
our tea at the Old Bailey (about 4s.), and the coach-fair, which
we had agreed with the coachman should be 10s. May had no other
interest in, or right to the money to be obtained for the body,
except for such payments, and for what he could get above nine
guineas, as I had promised him. May paid the coachman 10s. on our
leaving the hospital; but, before we discharged the coach, May and
I ran to Mr. Appleton, at Mr. Grainger’s school, leaving Williams
with the coach. We offered the subject to Mr. Appleton, but he
declined to buy it; and then May and I joined Williams, discharged
the coach, and went to a public-house close by to have something to
drink. After this we got into a coach in the Borough, and drove
again to the Fortune-of-War, where we had something more to drink:
this was about eight o’clock in the evening. We all three staid
there about an hour, and then went out, got a coach in Smithfield,
and went towards Old-street-road—stopped in Golden-lane with the
coach, and drank something, and then on to Old-street. At the
corner of Union-street—the Star corner—May got out of the coach
and said he was going home, and I and Williams drove to the corner
of Old-street and Kingsland-road, where we got out and paid the
coach-fare out of the money lent us by May, he having advanced each
of us 3s. We then walked home, and went to bed that night as
usual. We had agreed with May, on his leaving us, to meet him at
Guy’s Hospital at nine o’clock the next morning (Saturday). I and
Williams went at eight o’clock on Saturday morning to the
Fortune-of-War, where we met Shields, the porter, and engaged with
him to go with us over the water to carry a subject. I wished him
to go to Bartholomew’s Hospital for a hamper I had seen there; but
he refused, and I fetched it myself. We had a pint of beer, and I,
and Williams, and Shields, went to Guy’s Hospital, Shields carrying
the hamper. We met May there. Williams and Shields went to a
public-house, whilst I and May went to Mr. Appleton and offered him
the subject again. He again refused to buy it, saying he did not
want it. May and I then joined Shields and Williams, and had some
drink, and then left them again; crossed the water in a boat to the
King’s College, where we inquired of Mr. Hill, the porter, whether
he wanted a subject? He said he was not particularly in want, but
would speak to Mr. Partridge, the demonstrator. Mr. Partridge came,
and asked what the subject was? May said, ‘A male subject.’ Mr.
Partridge asked the price. May said twelve guineas. Mr. Partridge
said he could not give so much, and went away. Mr. Hill asked us to
stay a few minutes while he went after Mr. Partridge, to speak to
him again. Hill returned, and said Mr. Partridge would give nine
guineas. May said, ‘he would be d—d if it should go in under ten
guineas.’ He was in liquor, and, on his moving a little way off, I
took the opportunity of saying to Hill that it should come in at
nine guineas. I told May directly after, that I had sold it for
nine guineas, and that I would out of it pay him what I had of him,
and give him something besides. We then got into a cabriolet, and
went back to Williams and Shields at the public-house, where all
four of us had some beefsteaks and beer; and afterwards we went to
Guy’s Hospital, packed the body in the hamper, and put it on
Shields’ head, telling him to take it to the King’s College, where
we went, Williams and Shields walking, and I and May riding part of
the way in a cab. On reaching the King’s College, we carried the
body into the theatre, and then into a little room, where we took
the body out. Mr. Hill looked at it, and asked what it died of? May
answered he did not know, and it did not concern him. Mr. Hill
asked us how a cut which was on the forehead came? I answered, that
it was done by May throwing the body out of the sack on the stones,
which was the truth. Hill told us to remain in the other room, and
he would bring us the money. We went into the other room, and
waited for some time, when Mr. Partridge came to us and showed me a
50l. note, and said he must go and get it changed, as he had not
sufficient money without, and he pulled out his purse and counted
three or four sovereigns. I said he might let us have that, and
give us the remainder on Monday; but he said, ‘No—he would rather
pay it altogether,’ and went away. We waited some time, when the
police-officers came and took us into custody.
(Signed) “John Bishop.
“Witness, Robert Ellis, Under-Sheriff.”
“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 that he suspected 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 the contrary until I
confessed 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 Frances 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 she might go home with us, and sit by
the fire all night; she said she would go with us, and 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, and
staid there about an hour. We should have staid 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 we gave her the bottle to
drink; she drank the whole in two or three draughts; there was a
quartern of rum and about half-a-phial of laudanum; she sat down on
the step between the 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 laid 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 back in about half-an hour; we
left the woman in the well 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 hair-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 staid a little while to wait the change of the police.
I told Shields he was to carry the trunk to the London 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 a
hat-box, which he gave her. 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’s Hospital I saw Mr. South’s footman, and sent him up
stairs to Mr. South to ask if he wanted a subject. The servant
brought me word that his master wanted one, but could not give an
answer until 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 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’s Hospital and took it to Mr. Appleton,
who paid me 5l. then, and the rest on the following Monday. After
receiving the 5l. I went to Shields and Williams and his wife at
the public-house, when I paid Shields 10s. for his trouble, and
we 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 small-pox.—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-hoards 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 then 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 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 mixture we had given him to run
out of his body. We then took the body from the well, tore off the
clothes in the garden, and buried them there. The body we carried
into the wash-house, and put it into the same box, and left it
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 engaged, 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 getting 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 two
months, and were killed, I think, by a cat in the garden, when 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 whilst we were at tea.
Until the transactions before set forth, I never was concerned in
obtaining a subject by the 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 a 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. U.S.”
“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,
nor 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, nor concerned in the sale of any
other body than the three murdered by Bishop and myself; that May
is a stranger to me; and that I had never seen him more than once
or twice before Friday, the 4th of November last; and that May is
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, 4th December, 1831.
“The above confessions, taken literally, from the prisoners, in our
presence.
“T. Wood. R. Ellis. Under-Sheriffs.”
It was not until subsequently to the delivery of these statements, that
May was acquainted with the merciful consideration which his case had
received.
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. The
reverend 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 he could not possibly
survive—it was believed, indeed, that the warrant of mercy had proved
his death-blow. It was nearly a quarter of an hour before he 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 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 he acknowledged he had
committed many sins for which the Almighty might have justly 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.
On Sunday night the criminals retired to rest at an early hour, but
their efforts to obtain sleep appeared to be vain. They frequently
awoke, and entered into conversation with the persons 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 him by the ordinary, he 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
his father-in-law (Bishop) supported his family. No communication took
place between him 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
dispatch, “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, the intended victim left the house
in which he met these ruffians without any idea of his having been
exposed to such great and imminent danger.
During a subsequent intermission of sleep, he wrote the following
letter, addressed to Mr. Russell, the chaplain of the Penitentiary, in
which prison he had once been confined for three years:—
“Newgate, 4th December, 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 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.” (His real name.)
Both prisoners rose at six o’clock in the morning, and were soon after
visited by the reverend gentleman 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.
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, to which the strangers who had obtained 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
had been 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 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. One of the under-sheriffs took a seat by
his side, and, in a low tone, asked him 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 which could be
obtained 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 was noticed at the time of his sentence. Since then,
however, his whole appearance had undergone the most terrible
alteration. That cunning and flippant air which was noticed in him on
his trial had left him. His look, as he entered the press-room on
Monday, 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 them together. While submitting to this operation, he
frequently ejaculated, “Oh, I have deserved all this and more!—oh, I
have deserved all 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.”
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 noticed. His appearance underwent no change as he
approached the foot of the scaffold. Williams became more and more
agitated as he advanced. 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 being led out, seated
himself near him. Mr. Russell said to him, “Now, Williams, you have
another moment intervening between this 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.
The scene without the prison was no less exciting than that which was
passing within the jail.
The execution of these wretched and atrocious criminals attracted, as
might have been expected, an immense assemblage to the spot, and every
possible preparation had been made by the civil authorities for the
purpose of mitigating the pressure of the anticipated crowd. The crowd,
as early as one o’clock in the morning, had 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 buz 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. 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, in consequence of 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.
At daybreak 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 was 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 had
ever been witnessed on an occasion of the kind since the execution of
Holloway and Haggerty, upwards of twenty years before. Notwithstanding
the precautions taken by the city authorities to prevent accidents,
several occurred. 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, was truly alarming. Several
persons were carried to the hospital, but no life was lost.
As the hour of eight approached, the anxiety of the multitude became
most intense; and every eye appeared directed towards the door through
which the wretched criminals were to be led to the scaffold.
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 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 fixed it to the chain, placed him under
the fatal beam. A terrific cheer from the crowd proclaimed their
satisfaction at the completion of the preparation for his exit to the
other world; but still, though placed on the brink of eternity, and
about to be launched into it amidst the execrations of his
fellow-creatures, the miserable criminal betrayed scarce 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 to shake, 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 a universal tremor. 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 several minutes.
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 the Theatre of Anatomy, in Windmill-street,
Haymarket—to be dissected. They were publicly exhibited on Tuesday and
Wednesday, at both places, when immense crowds of persons were admitted
to see their remains.
The skeletons of the two criminals still adorn the museums of the
schools, in which their bodies were dissected.
The case of the murder of a Mrs. Pigburn has already been alluded to in
the course of this article, and it will be seen that, in the confession
made by the two convicts, they admitted their participation in that
crime. The statement made by them appears to be strictly correct, as it
was fully borne out by Shields, the porter, in a statement which he made
before the magistrates at Bow-street.
In consequence of this declaration Mrs. Williams, the wife of the
prisoner, was taken into custody on suspicion of her having been
concerned in the murder. From her statement, some curious circumstances
were elicited as to the prisoners, and her own and her mother’s
relationship to them. She said that Bishop was the son of a carrier, who
lived at Highgate, and who, in the course of a long life, succeeded in
amassing a considerable sum of money. Mrs. Bishop, who was at the time
of the inquiry about forty years of age, was married to the old man as
his third wife, and at this time there were several children living,
amongst whom were John Bishop, the convict, and herself, who were
half-brother and sister, being both the children of the old man, but by
different mothers. At the death of old Bishop, it was found that, by his
will, he had divided his property between his last wife, his children,
and some other relatives: and the payment of 15s. per week was secured
to his widow out of a portion of the estate, in which some of the
relations had a reversionary interest. In less than six months after the
old man’s death, his widow and his son married, and they had lived
together ever since. She (then Rhoda Bishop), subsequently became
acquainted with Williams, whose real name was Head; he had been bred a
carpenter, but at this time followed the occupation of a glass-blower,
and after a short courtship they were married (about two months before
her husband’s apprehension on the charge of murder), she being then
seventeen years of age. She denied that she was at all aware of the
diabolical crimes which had been resorted to by her husband and her
half-brother; and although she admitted that she had accompanied Shields
on the occasion pointed out, she declared that she was not informed of
the nature of the load which he carried.
Mrs. Williams was remanded for a week, but at the expiration of that
time, there being no evidence to implicate her in the horrid affair, she
was discharged.
We have only a few words to add, in reference to May, to close our
notice of these most detestable criminals.
May (who was a tall, light-haired, and rather good-looking man, about
thirty years of age) was 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 brought up 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
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 greater
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.
We believe that there is no reason to doubt the truth of his assertions,
that he had never been implicated in murder. He made a full confession
of the habits and practices of persons engaged in his horrid trade, and
his punishment was eventually commuted to transportation for life.
We have already alluded to the doubts which existed as to the
ingenuousness of the confessions of the prisoners Bishop and Williams.
The general suspicions which were entertained upon this subject, were
still further excited by the publication of a report, that another
confession had been made, in which the convicts had admitted their
participation in upwards of sixty murders. We are inclined to believe
that no such confession was actually made, although there is good reason
to believe that the wretched malefactors concealed much of their guilt,
while they admitted so much only as they knew must eventually be
discovered. The idea that their confessions did not contain the whole
truth, received confirmation from the circumstance of their denying that
the remains found were those of the Italian boy. The evidence of the
identity of the body was too clear to leave any room for doubt, and it
is a remarkable fact that no information of the loss of such a boy (as
they described) from Lincolnshire, ever reached the metropolis.
Subsequently to the coroner’s inquest and before the trial, two poor
people did arrive in London from Lincolnshire, who had lost a boy, and
to whom the body of the Italian boy was shown; but, so far from
recognizing it as their child, they said, that not only the hair, but
the eyes were of a different colour. The whole object of the prisoners
seems to have been to mystify the case so as to give them a chance of
escape, and having set out with falsehood, they adhered to that course
throughout. We have heard that some jealousy was entertained by certain
individuals towards Mr. Corder, who conducted the prosecution, and who
refused to avail himself of the professional assistance tendered him,
and that some of these persons did not disguise their prophecies that
the case would “break down,” and the prisoners escape for the want of
proper evidence of identity. Even Bishop himself offered a bet, before
the trial, that he would be safe, as it could not be proved that it was
the Italian boy who had been found in his possession. It was not then
known that, to meet this difficulty, the count for the murder of “a boy
unknown” had been introduced; and when this fact was disclosed, all hope
on the part of the prisoners and their jealous friends was abandoned.
Mr. Corder received a deserved compliment from the judges for the
admirable manner in which he had collected and arranged his evidence,
notwithstanding, as he admitted to their lordships, he was “not indebted
to any professional man in the progress of his labours.” This gentleman
subsequently published a letter, urging conclusive reasons for the
belief that it was the body of the Italian boy which was found; and,
from the testimony of the surgeons who made the post mortem
examination of the body, showing the utter falsehood of the statement of
Bishop, “that he had been killed by suffocation in the well,” instead of
by positive violence. The extravasated blood on the brain, and the
effusion of blood in the spinal canal, obviously produced by external
violence, were the best proofs that, in this respect, Bishop was
deceiving his auditors: and, detected in one lie, little reliance could
be placed on what followed. It appears, too, that Williams was present
while Bishop was telling his story, and simply confirmed him in his
narrative. Had they been called upon to make separate confessions,
neither knowing what the other had said, some estimate might have been
formed of the degree of confidence to be placed in their confession.
But, as it was, we think the public are far from having got at the
truth; and from the blunders and jealousies of the “officials,” we
suspect much useful information upon this most dreadful subject was
lost.
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