compliance with that wicked proposition; but after the commission of
that fact, he with his companions before mentioned went over in the
packet boat to Holland. Guilt is a companion which never suffers rest
to enter any bosom where it inhabits; they were so uneasy after their
arrival there, lest an application should be made from the Government at
home, that they were constantly perusing the English newspapers as they
came over to the coffee houses in Rotterdam, that they might gain
intelligence of what advertisements, rewards, or other methods had been
taken to apprehend the persons concerned in Ball's murder; resolving on
the first news of a proclamation, or other interposition of the State on
that occasion, immediately to quit the Dominions of the Republic. But as
Burnworth had been betrayed by the only persons from whom he could
reasonably hope assistance; Higgs seized on board a ship where he
fancied himself secure from all searches; so Blewit and his associates,
though they daily endeavoured to acquaint themselves with the
transactions at London relating to them, fell also into the hands of
Justice, when they least expected it. So equal are the decrees of
providence, and so inevitable the strokes of Divine vengeance.

The proclamation for apprehending them came no sooner to the hands of
Mr. Finch, the British resident at the Hague, but he immediately caused
an enquiry to be made, whether any such persons as were therein
described had been seen at Rotterdam. Being assured that there had, and
that they were lodged at the Hamburgh's Arms on the Boom Keys in that
City, he sent away a special messenger to enquire the truth thereof; of
which he was no sooner satisfied, than he procured an order from the
States General for apprehending them anywhere within the Province. By
virtue of this order the messenger, with the assistance of the proper
officers for that purpose in Holland, apprehended Blewit at the house
whither they had been directed; his two companions Dickenson and Berry,
had left him and were gone aboard a ship, not caring to remain any
longer in Holland. They conducted their prisoner to the Stadt House
Prison in Rotterdam, and then went to the Brill, where the ship on board
which his companions were, not being cleared out, they surprised them
also, and having handcuffed them, sent them under a strong guard to
Rotterdam, where they put them in the same place with their old
associate Blewit. We shall now therefore take an opportunity of speaking
of each of them, and acquainting the reader with those steps by which
they arose to that unparalleled pitch of wickedness which rendered them
alike the wonder and detestation of all the sober part of mankind.

Emanuel Dickenson was the son of a very worthy person, whose memory I
shall be very careful not to stain upon this occasion. The lad was ever
wild and ungovernable in his temper, and being left a child at his
father's death, himself, his brother, and several sisters were thrown
all upon the hands of their mother, who was utterly unable to support
them in those extravagancies to which they were inclined. Whereupon they
unfortunately addicted themselves to such evil courses as to them seemed
likely to provide such a supply of money as might enable them to take
such licentious pleasures as were suitable to their vicious
inclinations. The natural consequence of which was that they all fell
under misfortunes, especially Emanuel of whom we are speaking, who
addicted himself to picking of pockets, and such kind of facts for a
considerable space. At last, attempting to snatch a gentleman's hat off
in the Strand, he was seized with it in his hand, and committed to
Newgate, and at the next sessions convicted and ordered for
transportation. But his mother applying at Court for a pardon, and
setting forth the merit of his father, procured his discharge. The only
use he made of this was to associate himself with his old companions,
who by degrees led him into greater villainies than any he had till that
time been concerned in; and at last falling under the direction of
Burnworth, he was with the rest drawn into the murder of Ball. After
this he followed Blewit's advice, and not thinking himself safe even in
Holland, he and Berry (as has been said) were actually on ship board, in
order to their departure.

Thomas Berry was a beggar, if not a thief, from his cradle, descended
from parents in the most wretched circumstances, who being incapable of
giving him an honest education suffered him on the contrary to idle
about the streets, and to get into such gangs of thieves and pickpockets
as taught him from his infancy the arts of _diving_ (as they in their
cant call it). And as he grew in years they still brought him on to a
greater proficiency in such evil practices, in which however he did not
always meet with impunity; for besides getting into the little prisons
about town, and being whipped several times at the houses of correction,
he had also been thrice in Newgate, and for the last fact convicted and
ordered for transportation. However, by some means or other, he got away
from the ship, and returned quickly to his old employment; in which he
had not continued long, before falling into the acquaintance of
Burnworth, it brought him first to the commission of a cruel murder, and
after that with great justice to suffer an ignominious death. Having
been thus particular on the circumstances of each malefactor distinctly,
let us return to the thread of our story, and observe to what period
their wicked designs and lawless courses brought them at the last.

After they were all three secured, and safe confined in Rotterdam, the
resident dispatched an account thereof to England; whereupon he received
directions for applying to the States-General for leave to send them
back. This was readily granted, and six soldiers were ordered to attend
them on board, besides the messengers who were sent to fetch them.
Captain Samuel Taylor, in the _Delight_ sloop, brought them safe to the
Nore, where they were met by two other messengers, who assisted in
taking charge of them up the river. In the midst of all the miseries
they suffered, and the certainty they had of being doomed to suffer much
more as soon as they came on shore, yet they behaved themselves with the
greatest gaiety imaginable, were full of their jests and showed as much
pleasantness as if their circumstances had been the most happy.
Observing a press-gang very busy on the water, and that the people in
the boat shunned them with great care, they treated them with the most
opprobrious language, and impudently dared the lieutenant to come and
press them for the service. On their arrival at the Tower, they were put
into a boat with the messengers, with three other boats to guard them,
each of which was filled with a corporal and a file of musqueteers; and
in this order they were brought to Westminster. After being examined
before Justice Chalk and Justice Blackerby they were all three put into
a coach, and conducted by a party of Foot-guards to Newgate through a
continued line of spectators, who by their loud huzzas proclaimed their
joy at seeing these egregious villains in the hands of justice; for
they, like Jonathan Wild, were so wicked as to lose the compassion of
the mob.

On their arrival at Newgate, the keepers expressed a very great
satisfaction, and having put on each a pair of the heaviest irons in the
gaol, and taken such other precautions as they thought necessary for
securing them, they next did them the honour of conducting them upstairs
to their old friend Edward Burnworth. Having congratulated them on their
safe arrival and they condoled with him on his confinement, they took
their places near him, and had the convenience of the same apartment and
were shackled in the like manner. They did not appear to show the least
sign of contrition or remorse for what they had done; on the contrary
they spent their time with all the indifference imaginable. Great
numbers of people had the curiosity to come to Newgate to see them, and
Blewit upon all occasions made use of every opportunity to excite their
charity, alleging they had been robbed of everything when they were
seized. Burnworth, with an air of indifference replied, _D----n this
Blewit, because he had got a long wig and ruffled shirt he takes the
liberty to talk more than any of us._ Being exhorted to apply the little
time they had to live in preparing themselves for another world,
Burnworth replied that if they had any inclination to think of a future
state, it was impossible in their condition, so many persons as were
admitted to come to view them in their present circumstances must needs
divert any good thoughts. But their minds were totally taken up with
consulting the most likely means to make their escape and extricate
themselves from the bolts and shackles with which they were clogged and
encumbered; and indeed all their actions showed their thoughts were bent
only on enlargement, and that they were altogether unmindful of death,
or at least careless of the future consequence thereof.

On Wednesday, the 30th of March, 1726, Burnworth, Blewit, Berry
Dickenson, Levee, and Higgs, were all put into a waggon, handcuffed and
chained, and carried to Kingston under a guard of the Duke of Bolton's
horse. At their coming out of Newgate they were very merry, charging the
guard to take care that no misfortune happened to them, and called upon
the numerous crowd of spectators, both at their getting into the waggon,
and afterwards as they passed along the road, to show their respect they
bore them by halloaing, and to pay them the compliments due to gentlemen
of their profession, and called for several bottles of wine that they
might drink to their good journey. As they passed along the road they
endeavoured to show themselves very merry and pleasant by their
facetious discourse to the spectators, and frequently threw money
amongst the people who followed them, diverting themselves with seeing
the others strive for it. And particularly Blewit, having thrown out
some halfpence amongst the mob, a little boy who was present picked up
one of them, and calling out to Blewit, told him, that as sure as he
(the said Blewit) would be condemned at Kingston, so sure would he have
his name engraved thereon; whereupon Blewit took a shilling out of his
pocket and gave it to the boy, telling him there was something towards
defraying the charge of engraving and bid him be as good as his word,
which he promised he would.

On the 31st of March, the assizes were opened, together with the
commission of Oyer and Terminer and Gaol Delivery for the county of
Surrey, before the Right Hon. the Lord Chief Justice Raymond, and Mr.
Justice Denton; and the grand jury having found indictments against the
prisoners, they were severally arraigned thereupon, when five of them
pleaded not guilty. Burnworth absolutely refused to plead at all; upon
which, after being advised by the judge not to force the Court upon that
rigour which they were unwilling at any time to practice, and he still
continuing obstinate, his thumbs (as is usual in such cases) were tied
and strained with pack thread. This having no effect upon him, the
sentence of the press, or as it is sailed in Law, of the _Peine Fort et
Dure_, was read to him in these words: _You shall go to the place from
whence you came, and there being stripped naked and laid flat upon your
back on the floor, with a napkin about your middle to hide your privy
members, and a cloth on your face, then the press is to be laid upon
you, with as much weight as, or rather more than you can bear. You are
to have three morsels of barley-bread in twenty-four hours; a draught of
water from the next puddle near the gaol, but not running water. The
second day two morsels and the same water, with an increase of weight,
and so to the third day until you expire._

This sentence thus passed upon him, and he still continuing
contumacious, he was carried down to the stock-house, and the press laid
upon him, which he bore for the space of one hour and three minutes,
under the weight of three hundred, three quarters, and two pounds [424
lb.]. Whilst he continued under the press, he endeavoured to beat out
his brains against the floor, during which time the High Sheriff himself
was present, and frequently exhorted him to plead to the indictment.
This at last he consented to do; and being brought up to the Court,
after a trial which lasted from eight in the morning until one in the
afternoon, on the first day of April, they were all six found guilty of
the indictment, and being remanded back to the stock-house, were all
chained and stapled down to the floor.

Whilst they were under conviction, the terrors of death did not make any
impression upon them; they diverted themselves with repeating jests and
stories of various natures, particularly of the manner of their escapes
before out of the hands of justice, and the robberies and offences they
had committed. And it being proposed, for the satisfaction of the world,
for them to leave the particulars of the several robberies by them
committed, Burnworth replied that were he to write all the robberies by
him committed, a hundred sheets of paper, write as close as could be,
would not contain them. Notwithstanding what had been alleged by Higgs
of his forsaking his companions in the field, it appeared by other
evidence that he followed his companions to Ball's house, and was seen
hovering about the house during the time the murder was committed, with
a pistol in his hand.

As for Burnworth, after conviction, his behaviour was as ludicrous as
ever; and being as I said, a painter's son, he had some little notion of
designing, and therewith diverted himself in sketching his own picture
in several forms; particularly as he lay under the press. This being
engraved in copper, was placed in the frontispiece of a sixpenny book
which was published of his life, and the rest seemed to fall no way
short of him in that silly contempt of death, which with the vulgar
passes for resolution.

On Monday, the 4th day of April, they were brought up again from the
stock-house to receive sentence of death. Before he passed it upon them
Mr. Justice Denton made a very pathetic speech, in which he represented
to them the necessity there was of punishing crimes like theirs with
death, and exhorted them not to be more cruel to themselves than they
had obliged the law to be severe towards them, by squandering away the
small remainder of their time, and thereby adding to an ignominious end,
an eternal punishment hereafter. When sentence was passed, they
entreated leave for their friends to visit them in the prison, which was
granted them by the Court, but with a strict injunction to the keeper to
be careful over them. After they returned to the prison, they bent their
thought wholly on making their escape, and to that purpose sent to their
friends, and procured proper implements for the execution of it:
Burnworth's mother being surprised with several files, etc., about her,
and the whole plot discovered by Blewit's mother who was heard to say
that she had forgot the opium.

It seems the scheme was to murder the two persons who attended them in
the gaol, together with Mr. Eliot, the turnkey; after they had got out
they intended to have fired a slack of bavins [firewood] adjoining to
the prison, and thereby amused the inhabitants while they got clear off.
Burnworth's mother was confined for this attempt in his favour, and some
lesser implements that were sewed up in the waistband of their breeches
being ripped out, all hopes whatsoever of escape were now taken away.
Yet Burnworth affected to keep up the same spirit with which he had
hitherto behaved, and talked in a rhodomantade to one of his guard, of
coming in the night in a dark entry, and pulling him by the nose, if he
did not see him decently buried.

About ten of the clock, on Wednesday morning, together with one
Blackburn, who was condemned for robbing on the highway, a fellow
grossly ignorant and stupid, they were carried out in a cart to their
execution, being attended by a company of foot to the gallows. In their
passage thither, that audacious carriage in which they had so long
persisted totally forsook them, and they all appeared with all that
seriousness and devotion which might be looked for from persons in their
condition. Blewit perceiving one Mr. Warwick among the spectators
desired that he might stop to speak to him; which being granted, he
threw himself upon his knees, and earnestly intreated his pardon for
having once attempted his life by presenting a pistol at him, upon
suspicion that Mr. Warwick knowing what his profession was had given
information against him.

When at the place of execution and tied up, Blewit and Dickenson,
especially, prayed with great fervour and with a becoming earnestness,
exhorted all the young persons they saw near them to take warning by
them, and not follow such courses as might in time bring them to so
terrible an end. Blewit acknowledged that for sixteen years last past he
had lived by stealing and pilfering only. He had given all the clothes
he had to his mother, but being informed that he was to be hung in
chains, he desired his mother might return them to prevent his being put
up in his shirt. He then desired the executioner to tie him up so that
he might be as soon out of his pain as possible; then he said the
Penitential Psalm, and repeated the words of it to the other criminals.
Then they all kissed one another, and after some private devotions the
cart drew away and they were turned off. Dickenson died very hard,
kicking off one of his shoes, and loosing the other.

Their bodies were carried back under the same guard which attended them
to their execution. Burnworth and Blewit were afterwards hung in chains
over against the sign of the Fighting Cocks, in St. George's Fields,
Dickenson and Berry were hung up on Kennington Common, but the sheriff
of Surrey had orders at the same time to suffer his relations to take
down the body of Dickenson in order to be interred, after its hanging up
one day, which favour was granted on account of his father's service in
the army, who was killed at his post in the late war. Levee and Higgs
were hung up on Putney Common, beyond Wandsworth, which is all we have
to add concerning these hardened malefactors who so long defied the
justice of their country, and are now, to the joy of all honest people,
placed as spectacles for the warning of their companions who frequent
the places where they are hung in chains.

FOOTNOTES:

[73] Falcon Stairs were just east of where Blackfriars Bridge
now stands.

[74] Trig Lane ran from Thames Street to the water's edge, near
Lambeth Hill.




The Life of JOHN GILLINGHAM, an Highwayman and Footpad, etc.


As want of education hath brought many who might otherwise have done
very well in the world to a miserable end, so the best education and
instructions are often of no effect to stubborn and corrupt minds. This
was the case of John Gillingham, of whom we are now to give an account.
He had been brought up at Westminster School, but all he acquired there
was only a smattering of learning and a great deal of self-conceit,
fancying labour was below him, and that he ought to live the life of a
gentleman. He associated himself with such companions as pretended to
teach him this art of easily attaining money. He was a person very
inclinable to follow such advices, and therefore readily came into these
proposals as soon as they were made. Amongst the rest of his
acquaintance, he became very intimate with Burnworth, and made one of
the number in attacking the chair of the Earl of Scarborough, near St.
James's Church, and was the person who shot the chairman in the
shoulder.

As he was a young man of a good deal of spirit, so he committed
abundance of facts in a very short space; but the indefatigable industry
which the officers of Justice exerted, in apprehending Frazier's
desperate gang, soon brought him to the miserable end consequent from
such wicked courses. He was indicted for assaulting Robert Sherly, Esq.,
upon the highway, and taking from him a watch value £20. He was a second
time indicted for assaulting John du Cummins, a footman, and taking from
him a silver watch, a snuff-box, and five guineas in money. Both of
which facts he steadily denied after his conviction, but there was a
third crime of which he was convicted, viz., sending a letter to extort
money from Simon Smith, Esq., and which follows in these words:

Mr. Smith.

I desire you to send me twenty guineas by the bearer, without
letting him know what it is for, he is innocent of the contents if
your offer to speak of this to anybody---- My blood and soul, if you
are not dead man before monday morning; and if you don't send the
money, the devil dash my brains out, if I don't shoot you the first
time you stir out of doors, or if I should be taken there are others
that will do your business for you by the first opportunity,
therefore pray fail not ----. Strike me to instant D---- if I am not
as good as my word.

To Mr. Smith in Great George Street over against the Church near
Hanover Square.

He confessed that he knew of the writing and sending this epistle, but
denied that he did it himself, and indeed the indictment set forth that
it was in company with one John Mason, then deceased, that the said
conspiracy was formed. Under sentence of death, he behaved himself very
sillily, laughing and scoffing at his approaching end, and saying to one
of his companions, as the keeper went downstairs before them, _Let us
knock him down and take his keys from him. If one leads to heaven, and
the other to hell, we shall at least have a chance to get the right!_
Yet when death with all its horror stared him in the face, he began to
relent in his behaviour, and to acknowledge the justness of that
sentence which had doomed him to death. At the place of execution he
prayed with great earnestness, confessed he had been a grievous sinner,
and seemed in great confusion in his last moments. He was about twenty
years of age when he died, which was on the 9th of May, 1726, at Tyburn.




The Life of JOHN COTTERELL, a Thief, etc.


The miseries of life are so many, so deep, so sudden, and so
irretrievable, that when we consider them attentively, they ought to
inspire us with the greatest submission towards that Providence which
directs us and fills us with humble sentiments of our own capacities,
which are so weak and incapable to protect us from any of those evils to
which from the vicissitudes of life we are continually exposed.

John Cotterell, the subject of this part of our work, was a person
descended of honest and industrious parents, who were exceedingly
careful in bringing him up as far as they were able, in such a manner as
might enable him to get his bread honestly and with some reputation.
When he was grown big enough to be put out apprentice, they agreed with
a friend of theirs, a master of a vessel, to take him with him two or
three voyages for a trial. John behaved himself so well that he gained
the esteem of his master and the love of all his fellow-sailors. When he
had been five years at sea, his credit was so good, both as to his being
an able sailor and an honest man, that his friends found it no great
difficulty to get him a ship, and after that another. The last he
commanded was of the burthen of 200 tons, but he sustained great losses
himself, and greater still, in supporting his eldest son, who dealt in
the same way, and with a vessel of his own carried on a trade between
England and Holland. Through these misfortunes he fell into
circumstances so narrow that he lay two years and a half in Newgate, for
debt. Being discharged by the Act of Insolvency, and having not
wherewith to sustain himself, he broke one night into a little
chandler's shop, where he used now and then to get a halfpenny-worth of
that destructive liquor gin; and there took a tub with two pounds of
butter, and a pound of pepper in it. But before he got out of the shop
he was apprehended, and at the next sessions was found guilty of the
fact.

While under sentence of death he behaved with the greatest gravity,
averred that it was the first thing of that kind he had ever done;
indeed, his character appeared to be very good, for though his
acquaintance in town had done little for him hitherto, yet when they saw
that they should not be long troubled with him, they sent him good
books, and provided everything that was necessary for him; so that with
much resignation he finished his days, with the other malefactors, at
Tyburn, in the fifty-second year of his age, on the 9th day of May,
1726.




The Life of CATHERINE HAYES, a bloody and inhuman Murderess, etc.


Though all crimes are in this nature foul, yet some are apparently more
heinous, and of a blacker die than others. Murder has in all ages and in
all climates been amongst the number of those offences held to be most
enormous and the most shocking to human nature of any other; yet even
this admits sometimes of aggravation, and the laws of England have made
a distinction between the murder of a stranger, and of him or her to
whom we owe a civil, or natural obedience. Hence it is that killing a
husband, or a master is distinguished under the name of _petit_ treason.
Yet even this, in the story we are about to relate, had several
heightening circumstances, the poor man having both a son and a wife
imbrueing their hands in his blood.

Catherine Hall, afterwards by her marriage, Catherine Hayes, was born in
the year 1690, at a village in the borders of Warwickshire, within four
miles of Birmingham. Her parents were so poor as to receive the
assistance of the parish and so careless of their daughter that they
never gave her the least education. While a girl she discovered marks of
so violent and turbulent a temper that she totally threw off all respect
and obedience to her parents, giving a loose to her passions and
gratifying herself in all her vicious inclinations.

About the year 1705, some officers coming into the neighbourhood to
recruit, Kate was so much taken with the fellows in red that she
strolled away with them, until they came to a village called Great
Ombersley in Warwickshire, where they very ungenerously left her behind
them. This elopement of her sparks drove her almost mad, so that she
went like a distracted creature about the country, until coming to Mr.
Hayes's door, his wife in compassion took her in out of charity. The
eldest child of the family was John Hayes, the deceased; who being then
about twenty-one years of age, found so many charms in this Catherine
Hall that soon after he coming into the house he made proposals to her
of marriage. There is no doubt of their being readily enough received,
and as they both were sensible how disagreeable a thing it would be to
his parents, they agreed to keep it secret. They quickly adjusted the
measures that were to be taken in order to their being married at
Worcester; for which purpose Mr. John Hayes pretended to his mother that
he wanted some tools in the way of his trade, viz., that of a carpenter,
for which it was necessary he should go to Worcester; and under this
colour he procured also as much money as, with what he had already had,
was sufficient to defray the expense of the intended wedding.

Catherine having quitted the house without the formality of bidding them
adieu, and meeting at the appointed place, they accompanied each other
to Worcester, where the wedding was soon celebrated. The same day Mrs.
Catherine Hayes had the fortune to meet with some of her quondam
acquaintance at Worcester. They understanding that she was that day
married, and where the nuptials were to be solemnized, consulted among
themselves how to make a penny of the bridegroom. Accordingly deferring
the execution of their intentions until the evening, just as Mr. Hayes
was got into bed to his wife, coming to the house where he lodged, they
forcibly entered the room, and dragged the bridegroom away, pretending
to impress him for her Majesty's service.

This proceeding broke the measures Mr. John Hayes had concerted with his
bride, to keep their wedding secret; for finding no redemption from
their hands, without the expense of a larger sum of money than he was
master of, he was necessitated to let his father know of his misfortune.
Mr. Hayes hearing of his son's adventures, as well of his marriage and
his being pressed at the same time, his resentment for the one did not
extinguish his affection for him as a father, but that he resolved to
deliver him from his troubles; and accordingly, taking a gentleman in
the neighbourhood along with him, he went for Worcester. At their
arrival there, they found Mr. John Hayes in the hands of the officers,
who insisted upon detaining him for her Majesty's service; but his
father and the gentleman he brought with him by his authority, soon made
them sensible of their errors, and instead of making a benefit of him,
as they proposed, they were glad to discharge him, which they did
immediately. Mr. Hayes having acted thus far in favour of his son, then
expressed his resentment for his having married without his consent; but
it being too late to prevent it, there was no other remedy but to bear
with the same. For sometime afterwards Mr. Hayes and his bride lived in
the neighbourhood, and as he followed his business as a carpenter, his
father and mother grew more reconciled. But Mrs. Catherine Hayes, who
better approved of a travelling than a settled life, persuaded her
husband to enter himself a volunteer in a regiment then at Worcester,
which he did, and went away with them, where he continued for some time.

Mr. John Hayes being in garrison in the Isle of Wight, Mrs. Hayes took
an opportunity of going over thither and continued with him for some
time; until Mr. Hayes, not content with such a lazy indolent life
(wherein he could find no advantage, unless it were the gratifying his
wife) solicited his father to procure his discharge, which at length he
was prevailed upon to consent to. But he found much difficulty in
perfecting the same, for the several journeys he was necessitated to
undertake before it could be done, and the expenses of procuring such
discharge, amounted to sixty pound. But having at last, at this great
expense and trouble, procured his son's release, Mr. John Hayes and his
wife returned to Worcestershire; and his father the better to induce him
to settle himself in business in the country, put him into an estate of
ten pound _per annum_, hoping that, with the benefit of his trade, would
enable them to live handsomely and creditably, and change her roving
inclinations, he being sensible that his son's ramble had been
occasioned through his wife's persuasions. But Mr. John Hayes
representing to his father that it was not possible for him and his wife
to live on that estate only, persuaded his father to let him have
another also, a leasehold of sixteen pound _per annum;_ upon which he
lived during the continuance of the lease, his father paying the annual
rent thereof until it expired.

The characters of Mr. John Hayes and his wife were vastly different. He
had the repute of a sober, sedate, honest, quiet, peaceable man, and a
very good husband, the only objection his friends would admit of against
him was that he was of too parsimonious and frugal temper, and that he
was rather too indulgent of his wife, who repaid his kindness with ill
usage, and frequently very opprobious language. As to his wife, she was
on all hands allowed to be a very turbulent, vexatious person, always
setting people together by the ears, and never free from quarrels and
controversies in the neighbourhood, giving ill advice, and fomenting
disputes to the disturbance of all her friends and acquaintance.

This unhappiness in her temper induced Mr. John Hayes's relations to
persuade him to settle in some remote place, at a distance from and
unknown to her for some time, to see if that would have any effect upon
her turbulent disposition; but Mr. Hayes would not approve of that
advice, nor consent to a separation. In this manner they lived for the
space of about six years, until the lease of the last-mentioned farm
expired; about which time Mrs. Hayes persuaded Mr. John Hayes to leave
the country and come to London, which about twelve months afterwards,
through her persuasions he did, in the year 1719. Upon their arrival in
town they took a house, part of which they let out in lodging, and sold
sea coal, chandlery-ware, etc., whereby they lived in a creditable
manner. And though Mr. Hayes was of a very indulgent temper, yet she was
so unhappy as to be frequently jarring, and a change of climate having
made no alteration in her temper, she continued her same passionate
nature, and frequent bickerings and disputes with her neighbours, as
well as before in the country.

In this business they picked up money, and Mr. Hayes received the yearly
rent of the first-mentioned estate, though in town; and by lending out
money in small sums, amongst his country people improved the same
considerably. In speaking of Mr. Hayes to his friends and acquaintance
she would frequently give him the best of characters, and commend him
for an indulgent husband; notwithstanding which, to some of her
particular cronies who knew not Mr. Hayes's temper, she would exclaim
against him, and told them particularly (above a year before the murder
was committed) that it was no more sin to kill him (meaning her husband)
than to kill a mad dog, and that one time or other she might give him a
jolt.

Afterwards they removed into Tottenham Court Road, where they lived for
some time, following the same business as formerly; from whence about
two years afterwards, they removed into Tyburn Road,[75] a few doors
above where the murder was committed. There they lived about twelve
months, Mr. Hayes supporting himself chiefly in lending out money upon
pledges, and sometimes working at his profession, and in husbandry, till
it was computed he had picked up a pretty handsome sum of money. About
ten months before the murder they removed a little lower to the house of
Mr. Whinyard, where the murder was committed, taking lodgings up two
pairs of stairs. There it was that Thomas Billings, by trade a tailor,
who wrought journey-work in and about Monmouth Street; under pretence
of being Mrs. Hayes's countryman came to see them. He did so, and
continued in the house about six weeks before the death of Mr. Hayes.

He (Mr. Hayes) had occasion to go a little way out of town, of which his
wife gave her associates immediate notice, and they thereupon flocked
thither to junket with her until the time they expected his return. Some
of the neighbours out of ill-will which they bore the woman, gave him
intelligence of it as soon as he came back, upon which they had
abundance of high words, and at last Mr. Hayes gave her a blow or two.
Maybe this difference was in some degree the source of that malice which
she afterwards vented upon him.

About this time Thomas Wood, who was a neighbour's son in the country,
and an intimate acquaintance both of Mr. Hayes and his wife, came to
town, and pressing being at that time very hot he was obliged to quit
his lodgings; and thereupon Mr. Hayes very kindly invited him to accept
of the convenience of theirs, promising him moreover, that as he was out
of business, he would recommend him to his friends, and acquaintances.
Wood accepted the offer, and lay with Billings. In three or four days'
time, Mrs. Hayes having taken every opportunity to caress him, opened to
him a desire of being rid of her husband, at which Wood, as he very well
might, was exceedingly surprised, and demonstrated the business as well
as cruelty there would be in such an action, if committed by him, who
besides the general ties of humanity, stood particularly obliged to him
as his neighbour and his friend. Mrs. Hayes did not desist upon this,
but in order to hush his scruples would fain have persuaded him that
there was no more sin in killing Hayes than in killing a brute-beast for
that he was void of all religion and goodness, an enemy to God, and
therefore unworthy of his protection; that he had killed a man in the
country, and destroyed two of his and her children, one of which was
buried under an apple tree, the other under a pear tree, in the country.
To these fictitious tales she added another, which perhaps had the
greatest weight, viz., that if he were dead, she should be the mistress
of fifteen hundred pounds. _And then_, says she, _you may be master
thereof, if you will help to get him out of the way. Billings has agreed
too, if you'll make a third, and so all may be finished without danger._

A few days after this, Wood's occasions called him out of town. On his
return, which was the first day of March, he found Mr. Hayes and his
wife and Billings very merry together. Amongst other things which passed
in conversation, Mr. Hayes happened to say that he and another person
once drank as much wine between them as came to a guinea, without
either of them being fuddled. Upon this Billings proposed a wager on
these terms, that half a dozen bottles of the best mountain wine should
be fetched, which if Mr. Hayes could drink without being disordered,
then Billings should pay for it; but if not, then it should be at the
cost of Mr. Hayes. He accepting of this proposal, Mrs. Hayes and the two
men went together to the Brawn's Head, in New Bond Street, to fetch the
wine. As they were going thither, she put them in mind of the
proposition she had made them to murder Mr. Hayes, and said they could
not have a better opportunity than at present, when he should be
intoxicated with liquor. Whereupon Wood made answer that it would be the
most inhuman act in the world to murder a man in cool blood, and that,
too, when he was in liquor. Mrs. Hayes had recourse to her old
arguments, and Billings joining with her, Wood suffered himself to be
overpowered.

When they came to the tavern they called for a pint of the best
mountain, and after they had drank it ordered a gallon and a half to be
sent home to their lodgings, and Mrs. Hayes paid ten shillings and
sixpence for it, which was what it came to. Then they all came back and
sat down together to see Mr. Hayes drink the wager, and while he
swallowed the wine, they called for two or three full pots of beer, in
order to entertain themselves. Mr. Hayes, when he had almost finished
the wine, began to grow very merry, singing and dancing about the room
with all the gaiety which is natural to having taken a little too much
wine. But Mrs. Hayes was so fearful of his not having his dose, that she
sent away privately for another bottle, of which having drunk some also,
it quite finished the work, by depriving him totally of his
understanding; however, reeling into the other room, he there threw
himself across the bed and fell fast asleep. No sooner did his wife
perceive it than she came and excited the two men to go in and do the
work; whereupon Billings taking a coal-hatchet in his hand, going into
the other room, struck Mr. Hayes therewith on the back of the head. This
blow fractured the skull, and made him, through the agony of the pain,
stamp violently upon the ground, in so much that it alarmed the people
who lay in the garret; and Wood fearing the consequence, went in and
repeated the blows, though that was needless since the first was mortal
in itself, and he already lay still and quiet. By this time Mrs.
Springate, whose husband lodged over Mr. Hayes's head, on hearing the
noise came down to enquire the reason of it, complaining at the same
time that it so disturbed her family that they could not rest. Mrs.
Hayes thereupon told her that her husband had had some company with him,
who growing merry with their liquor were a little noisy, but that they
were going immediately, and desired she would be easy. Upon this she
went up again for the present, and the three murderers began immediately
to consult how to get rid of the body.

The men were in so much terror and confusion that they knew not what to
do; but Mrs. Hayes quickly thought of an expedient in which they all
agreed. She said that if the head was cut off, there would not be near
so much difficulty in carrying off the body, which could not be known.
In order to put this design in execution, they got a pail and she
herself carrying the candle, they all entered the room where the
deceased lay. Then the woman holding the pail, Billings drew the body by
the head over the bedside, that the blood might bleed the more freely
into it; and Wood with his pocket penknife cut it off. As soon as it was
severed from the body, and the bleeding was over, they poured the blood
down a wooden sink at the window, and after it several pails of water,
in order to wash it quite away that it might not be perceived in the
morning. However, their precautions were not altogether effectual, for
the next morning Springate found several clots of blood, but not
suspecting anything of the matter, threw them away. Neither had they
escaped letting some tokens of their cruelty fall upon the floor, stain
the wall of the room, and even spin up against the ceiling, which it may
be supposed happened at the giving the first blow.

When they had finished the decollation, they again consulted what was
next to be done. Mrs. Hayes was for boiling it in a pot till nothing but
the skull remained, which would effectually prevent anybody's knowing to
whom it belonged; but the two men thinking this too dilatory a method,
they resolved to put it in a pail, and go together and throw it in the
Thames. Springate, hearing a bustling in Mr. Hayes's room for some time,
and then somebody going down stairs, called again to know who it was and
what was the occasion of it (it being then about eleven o'clock). Mrs.
Hayes answered that it was her husband, who was going a journey into the
country, and pretended to take a formal leave of him, expressing her
sorrow that he was obliged to go out of town at that time of night, and
her fear least any accident should attend him in his journey.

Billings and Wood being thus gone to dispose of the head, went towards
Whitehall, intending to have thrown the same into the river there, but
the gates being shut, they were obliged to go forward as far as Mr.
Macreth's wharf, near the Horseferry at Westminster, where Billings
setting down the pail from under his great coat, Wood took up the same
with the head therein, and threw it into the dock before the Wharf. It
was expected the same would have been carried away by the tide, but the
water being then ebbing, it was left behind. There were also some
lighters lying over against the dock, and one of the lightermen walking
then on board, saw them throw the pail into the dark; but by the
obscurity of the night, the distance, and having no suspicion, they did
not apprehend anything of the matter. Having thus done, they returned
home again to Mrs. Hayes's where they arrived about twelve o'clock and
being let in, found Mrs. Hayes had been very busily employed in washing
the floor, and scraping the blood off from it, and from the walls, etc.
After which, they all three went into the fore room, Billings and Wood
went to bed there, and Mrs. Hayes sat by them till morning.

On the morning of the second of March, about the dawning of the day, one
Robinson a watchman saw a man's head lying in the dock, and the pail
near it. His surprise occasioned his calling some persons to assist in
taking up the head, and finding the pail bloody, they conjectured the
head had been brought thither in it. Their suspicions were fully
confirmed therein by the lighterman who saw Billings and Wood throw the
same into the dock, as before mentioned.

It was now time for Mrs. Hayes, Billings, and Wood to consider how they
should dispose of the body. Mrs. Hayes and Wood proposed to put it in a
box, where it might lie concealed till a convenient opportunity offered
for removing it. This being approved of, Mrs. Hayes brought a box; but
upon their endeavouring to put it in, the box was not big enough to hold
it. They had before wrapped it up in a blanket, out of which they took
it; Mrs. Hayes proposed to cut off the arms and legs, and they again
attempted to put it in, but the box would not hold it. Then they cut off
the thighs, and laying it piecemeal in the box, concealed them until
night.

In the meantime Mr. Hayes's head, which had been found as before, had
sufficiently alarmed the town, and information was given to the
neighbouring justices of the peace. The parish officers did all that was
possible towards the discovery of the persons guilty of perpetrating so
horrid an action. They caused the head to be cleaned, the face to be
washed from the dirt and blood, and the hair to be combed, and then the
head to be set upon a post in public view in St. Margaret's churchyard,
Westminster, so that everybody might have free access to see the same,
with some of the parish officers to attend, hoping by that means a
discovery of the same might be attained. The high constable of
Westminster liberty also issued private orders to all the petty
constables, watchmen, and other officers of that district, to keep a
strict eye on all coaches, carts, etc., passing in the night through
their liberty, imagining that the perpetrators of such a horrid fact
would endeavour to free themselves of the body in the same manner as
they had done the head.