Part 24

The whole of this sentence, which, as the punishment of treason, disgraced our law even to a late period (until altered by the 54 George III., c. 146), was too disgusting and cruel to be completely carried out. The warrant which directed the execution of the unfortunate Despard and his associates remitted the disembowelling and quartering. This warrant was sent to the keeper of the new (Horsemonger Lane) gaol in the Borough at six o’clock on Saturday evening, Feb. 19, and included seven prisoners; three—Newman, Tyndall, and Lander—having been respited. As soon as the warrant, which ordered the execution for the following Monday, was received, it was communicated to the unhappy persons by the keeper of the prison, Mr. Ives, with as much tenderness and humanity as the awful nature of the case required. Colonel Despard observed that the time was short; yet he had not had from the first any strong expectation that the recommendation of the jury would be effectual. The mediation of Lord Nelson and a petition to the Crown were tried; but Colonel Despard was convinced, according to report, that they would be unavailing. Soon after the arrival of the warrant all papers, and everything he possessed, were immediately taken from the colonel. The colonel’s devoted wife, a lady of Honduras, whom he had married while in his command there, was fearfully affected when she first heard his doom was sealed, but afterwards recovered her fortitude. The colonel and Mrs. Despard supported themselves with great firmness at parting on the Saturday; and when she got into the coach that drove her away she waved her handkerchief out of the window. The other prisoners bore their sad lot with equal fortitude, but conducted themselves with less solemnity than the colonel. Their wives and near relatives were allowed to take a farewell of them on the same day; and the scene was truly distressing.

At daylight on Sunday morning, the drop, scaffold, and gallows, on which they were to be executed were erected oh the top of the gaol. The Bow Street patrol and many other peace officers were on duty all day and night, and the military near London were drawn up close to the prison. Mrs. Despard took final leave of her husband at three in the afternoon, yet came again at five o’clock, but it was thought advisable to spare the colonel the pang of a second parting, and she was, therefore, not admitted into his cell. She evinced some indignation, and expressed a strong opinion with respect to the cause for which her husband was to suffer. After she had left the colonel at three o’clock, he walked up and down his cell for some time, seemingly more agitated than he had been at the actual moment of taking leave of her. Between six and seven in the evening he threw himself on the bed, and fell into a short sleep. At eight he awoke and addressed one of the officers of the prison, who was with him, in these words:—“Me—they shall receive no information from me; no, not for all the gifts, the gold, and jewels, in the possession of the Crown!” He then composed himself, and remained silent. Seven shells or coffins to receive the bodies, were brought into the prison, and also two large bags filled with sawdust, and the block on which they were to be beheaded. At four o’clock the next morning, February 21, the drum beat at the Horse Guards as a signal for the troops to assemble. In fact, the military force present on the occasion, like every other proceeding of Government in this affair, was most imposing. At six o’clock the Life-guards arrived, and took their station at the end of the different roads at the Obelisk, in St. George’s Fields; whilst all the officers from Bow Street, Queen’s Square, Marlborough Street, Hatton Garden, Worship Street, Whitechapel, Shadwell, and other localities attended. There were parties of the Life-guards riding up and down the roads. At half-past six the prison bell rang—the signal for unlocking the cells. At seven o’clock five of the men—Broughton, Francis, Graham, Wood, and Wratten—went into the chapel, with the Rev. Mr. Winkworth. Macnamara, being of another persuasion, and Despard, being in his craziness an infidel, did not join them. The five attended to the prayers with great earnestness, but at the same time without seeming to lose that firmness they had displayed since their trial. Before they received the sacrament, four of them confessed they had done wrong, but not to the extent charged against them by the evidence. The fifth, Graham, said he was innocent of the charges brought against him, but had attended two meetings at the instigation of Francis. For some time the clergyman refused to administer the sacrament to Francis, because he persisted in declaring he had been guilty of no crime. The clergyman said to him, “You admit you attended the meetings.” He replied, “Yes.” “You knew they were for the purpose of overturning the constitution of the country. I by no means wish you to enter into particulars, I only wish you to acknowledge generally.” Francis answered, “I admit I have done wrong in attending those meetings.” The clergyman then asked each of them how they found themselves? Francis, Wood, Broughton, and Wratten said, “They were never happier in their lives.” Graham remained silent. The sacrament was administered to them all.

Colonel Despard and Macnamara were then brought down from their cells, their irons knocked off, and their arms bound with ropes. The sheriff asked Colonel Despard if he could render him any service. The colonel thanked him, and replied that he could not. Upon the colonel coming out, he shook hands very cordially with his solicitor, and returned him many thanks for his kind attention; then, observing the sledge and apparatus, he smilingly cried out, “Ha! ha! what nonsensical mummery is this?” Notice being given that all was ready, the colonel, who stood the first, retired behind, and mentioned to Francis, who was making way for him, to go before him. The hurdle, being a body of a small cart, on which two trusses of clean straw were laid, was drawn by two horses.

When the melancholy procession began, which was at half-past eight o’clock precisely, Macnamara was the first that came out. Colonel Despard was the last that appeared. He was dressed in a blue double-breasted coat, with gilt buttons; cream-coloured waistcoat, with narrow gold-lace binding; a flannel inside vest, with scarlet top turned over; grey breeches, long boots, and a brown surtout. He stepped into the hurdle with much fortitude, having an executioner on the right and on the left, and on the same seat, with drawn cutlasses. He was thus conducted to the outer lodge, whence he ascended the staircase leading to the place of execution.

As soon as the prisoners were placed on the hurdle, St. George’s bell tolled for some time. They were preceded by the Sheriff, Sir R. Ford, the Protestant clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Winkworth, and a Catholic clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Griffith, who attended Macnamara, who was a Catholic. The coffins, or shells, which had been previously placed in a room under the scaffold, were then brought up and put on the platform on which the drop was erected; the bags of sawdust to catch the blood when the heads were severed from the bodies were laid beside them. The block was near the scaffold; there were about a hundred spectators on the platform, among whom were some persons of distinction; the greatest order was observed. Macnamara was the first on the platform, and when the cord was placed round his neck he exclaimed, “Lord Jesus, have mercy upon me! O Lord, look down with pity upon me!” The populace were much struck by his appearance. Graham came second: he looked pale and ghastly, but spoke not. Wratten was the third: he ascended the scaffold with much firmness. Broughton, the fourth, joined in prayer with much earnestness. Wood was the fifth, and Francis the sixth. They were all equally composed.

Colonel Despard ascended the scaffold with great firmness, and his countenance underwent not the slightest change while the dread ceremony of fastening the rope round his neck and placing the cap on his head was performing; he even assisted the executioner in adjusting the rope: he looked at the multitude assembled with perfect calmness. The Protestant clergyman, who came upon the scaffold after the prisoners were tied up, spoke to him a few words as he passed; the Colonel bowed and thanked him. The ceremony of fastening the prisoners being finished, the colonel advanced as near as he could to the edge of the scaffold, and made the following speech to the multitude:—

“Fellow Citizens,—I come here, as you see, after having served my country—faithfully, honourably, and usefully served it for thirty years and upwards—to suffer death upon a scaffold for a crime of which I protest I am not guilty. I solemnly declare that I am no more guilty of it than any of you who may be now hearing me. But though his Majesty’s ministers know as well as I do that I am not guilty, yet they avail themselves of a legal pretext to destroy a man because he has been a friend to truth, to liberty, and justice.”

There was a considerable huzza from part of the populace the nearest to him, but who, from the height of the scaffold from the ground, could not, for a certainty, distinctly hear what was said. The colonel proceeded:

“Because he has been a friend to the poor and distressed. But, citizens, I hope and trust, notwithstanding my fate, and the fate of those who no doubt will soon follow me, that the principles of freedom, of humanity, and of justice, will finally triumph over falsehood, tyranny, and delusion, and every principle hostile to the interests of the human race. And now, having said this, I have little more to add——”

The colonel’s voice seemed to falter here; he paused a moment, as if he had meant to say something more, and had forgotten it. He then concluded in the following manner:—

“I have little more to add, except to wish you all health, happiness, and freedom, which I have endeavoured, as far as was in my power, to procure for you, and for mankind in general.”

The colonel spoke in a firm and audible tone of voice: he left off sooner than was expected. There was no public expression, either of approbation or disapprobation, given when he had concluded his address. As soon as the colonel ceased speaking, the Protestant clergyman prayed with five of the prisoners, and the Catholic priest with Macnamara. However, to the very last, Colonel Despard obstinately refused all clerical assistance, nor would he even join in the Lord’s Prayer. The executioner pulled the caps over the faces of the unhappy persons, and descended the scaffold. Most of them exclaimed, “Lord Jesus, receive our souls!” At seven minutes before nine o’clock the signal was given, the platform dropped, and they were all launched into eternity. After hanging about half an hour till they were quite dead, they were cut down. Colonel Despard was first cut down, his body placed upon the sawdust, and his head upon a block; after his coat and waistcoat had been taken off, his head was severed from his body by persons engaged for the purpose. The executioner then took the head by the hair, and carrying it to the edge of the parapet on the right hand, and on the left, held it up at each edge to the view of the populace, and exclaimed each time, “This is the head of a traitor, Edward Marcus Despard.”

Despard’s remains were then put into the shell that had been prepared for them. The other prisoners were also cut down, their heads severed from their bodies, and exhibited to the populace with the exclamation of “This is the head of another traitor,” adding the name. The bodies were, like Despard’s, put into their respective shells, and delivered to their friends for interment.

The execution was over by ten o’clock, and the populace soon after dispersed quietly. The remains of the six common men were deposited in one grave in the vault under the Rev. Mr. Harper’s chapel, in the London Road, St. George’s Fields. The body of Colonel Despard was taken from Mount-street, Lambeth, on the 1st of March, in a hearse drawn by four horses, followed by three mourning coaches, with four gentlemen in each, and was interred in the cemetery belonging to the parish of St. Faith, on the south side of St. Paul’s Cathedral. A great crowd collected, and the City Marshal, with a guard, was present, lest there should be any disturbance; but all went off peaceably.

The _Times_ of Monday, Feb. 28, 1803, thus refers to the burying of Despard’s remains:—“The interment of Colonel Despard to-morrow will depend upon the arrival of his son, who has been sent for to France to be present on the occasion. This young gentleman is of respectable character, and has been in Paris about three months, with his wife. He was an ensign in Ireland, and was left a comfortable maintenance by his grandfather.”

The melancholy state of infidelity exhibited by Colonel Despard on the scaffold formed a theme for the pulpit. I find, among the reviews in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, of 1804, the following notice:—“A Sermon on the depravity of the Human Heart, exemplified, generally, in the conduct of the Jews, and particularly in that of Lieutenant-Colonel Despard, previous to his execution; preached at St. George’s, Hanover Square, Feb. 27, 1803, by the Rev. William Leigh, LL.D., morning preacher at the aforesaid church, and rector of Little Plumstead, Norfolk.” In this sermon occur the following passages:—

“The depravity of the human heart, from the creation to the present moment, is the strongest proof of the freedom of human agency and the origin of evil. Good and evil are set before man, and his choice is uninfluenced, and free. ‘But, alas! how vain is the strength of man! How imperfect are his best resolutions! How prevalent his inclinations to commit sin! and how sturdy his self-justification after he has committed it!... It is the miserable pride of modern reformers, to be equally independent of God and of man; to live without fear, and to die without compunction. The circumstances which marked the last moments of Colonel Despard, his refusal of the sacrament, his rejection of all spiritual consolation, and that of his dying with a lie in his mouth, are such as must fill every religious mind with lamentation and horror.’”

The trial of Colonel Despard presents coincidences with that of Governor Wall, that preceded it. Both Wall and Despard were men of family, and both came from nearly the same part of Ireland; both, by their own merit, rose to be colonels and governors of colonies, and both were eventually hanged in London—the one in the spring of 1802, and the other in the spring of 1803, and formed melancholy but happily very rare instances of military officers of rank suffering, for disgraceful offences, the extreme penalty of the law.

Another coincidence may be mentioned. The Hon. Spencer Percival, who was the Attorney-General at this trial, fell, in a few years afterwards, the victim of an assassin, Bellingham, who was a kind of lunatic like Despard, and had a similar real or ideal cause of grievance—viz., inattention of the Government to the application or complaint he was making.

The learned and popular writer whom I have already quoted, Mr. Timbs, F.S.A., in his “Curiosities of London,” thus points out, near the now-called Victoria Theatre, the scene of Despard’s conspiracy: “In Oakley Street, at the Oakley Arms, November 16, 1802, Colonel Edward Marcus Despard and thirty-two other persons were apprehended on a charge of high treason; and in February following, the colonel, with nine of his associates, were tried by a special commission at the Surrey Sessions House: and being all found guilty, seven, including Despard, were executed February 21, on the top of Horsemonger Lane Gaol.” Mr. Timbs further shows the spot to have been part of, or proximate to, the notorious “Pedlar’s Acre” scene of many a misdeed and crime.

To the honour of the Despard family, it may be mentioned that its loyalty was no wise diminished by this, to say the least of it, when one considers the obvious state of his mind and the absurdity of his treason, very severe measure of justice dealt out to the unhappy colonel. His relatives continued to act gallantly and devotedly in the service of their country. Of the sons of his brother, Captain Philip Despard, one, at the age of thirty-one, Lieut.-Colonel William Despard, 7th Fusiliers, fell at the Pyrenees in the Peninsular War; and another, Henry Despard, rose by his own merit to be a general in the army and colonel of the 99th Regiment. Killaghy, the seat of the Despards, in the County Tipperary, was sold by William Despard (father of the colonel of the trial) to his brother, Francis Green Despard, Esq., and the property descended eventually to Francis’s great granddaughter, Catherine Despard, wife of William Wright, Esq., who assumed by royal licence, in 1838, the surname and arms of Despard.

THE COURT-MARTIAL

OF

VICE-ADMIRAL CALDER.

The trial of that distinguished naval commander, Sir Robert Calder, Bart., Vice-Admiral of the White, differed from those of Byng, Sackville, and Keppel, in this, that it was not set on foot by an angry or partial Government, but arose entirely from the over sensitiveness of the gallant admiral himself, who could not submit to some unfavourable remarks which were made on his conduct for not pushing to the utmost the victory he had gained. He had defeated, in a great naval encounter, the combined fleets of France and Spain; but he had not completely crushed the enemy. Unfortunately, this occurred in the very centre of Nelson’s triumphs, when not only that hero, but the whole British people might, to use Napoleon’s term, be called “the spoilt children of victory.” Calder, it was admitted, had acted with courage and sagacity; but he had not shown the peculiar—the almost supernatural daring of Nelson: hence the general murmur. Nelson himself told him not to mind the outcry, but to fight on. He unwisely did not follow the advice, but called for a court-martial, and brought upon himself a sad and unforeseen result. Before coming to the affair, a word or two of Calder’s previous career is necessary. He was a man of good birth and ancient lineage, being the second son of Sir James Calder, third Baronet of Muirtoune, the head of a very old family in Morayshire. He was born at his father’s house at Elgin, the 2nd July, 1745, and, when fourteen years of age, was a midshipman in the Royal navy. He rose in his profession with slow but well-earned promotion, until he was looked on as one of the bravest and safest officers of his day. He won his earlier laurels under Kempenfelt, Roddam (his brother-in-law), and Howe; and his conduct at the battle of St. Vincent obtained for him knighthood, and subsequently, in 1798, a baronetcy. Such was the seaman whose next victory was to be the cause of his undoing. Of the actual naval action and its consequences in bringing about the trial, I take the following lucid account from that excellent manual “British Naval Biography:”

“Calder was selected, in 1805, by Admiral the Hon. (afterwards Sir) William Cornwallis (the illustrious Marquess Cornwallis’s youngest brother), who then commanded the Channel fleet, to blockade the harbours of Ferrol and Corunna. The force entrusted to him on this occasion was very inadequate; for, although there were then five French ships of the line and three frigates, and five Spanish line-of-battle ships and four frigates, all ready for sea, in these ports, yet he had only seven sail allotted to him; these, indeed, were afterwards increased to nine; but although he repeatedly requested two frigates and some smaller vessels, they never were sent to him. He, however, retained his station, notwithstanding the manœuvres of the Brest fleet; and on being joined by Rear-Admiral Stirling, on the 16th of July, with five sail of the line from before Rochfort, together with a frigate and a lugger, he proceeded to sea, for the express purpose of intercepting the French and Spanish squadrons from the West Indies, which were supposed to consist of no more than sixteen capital ships. Soon after this the combined fleet, of twenty sail of the line, seven frigates, and two brigs, were descried; while the English force amounted to no more than fifteen ships of the line, two frigates, a cutter, and a lugger.[21]

“Although the disparity on this occasion was sufficiently startling, Sir Robert did not hesitate in determining to bring the enemy to action. This battle, which gave rise to so much discussion, occurred in lat. 43° 30′ north, and long. 11° 17′ west, or about 40 leagues from Ferrol, on the 22nd of July. The British Vice-Admiral formed his fleet in compact order, and made a signal to attack the centre of the enemy; upon which the _Hero_, of 74 guns, that led the van squadron, fetched close up under the lee of the combined fleet, so that when our headmost ships had reached the enemy’s centre, their vessels tacked in succession, which obliged Sir Robert to perform the same evolution. The battle that immediately followed lasted upwards of four hours, and the enemy, notwithstanding their great superiority of numbers, and every advantage of wind and weather, lost two large Spanish ships, the _Rafael_, of 84, and the _Ferme_, of 76 guns.

“A heavy fog had prevailed during the greater part of the day; and a short time after the engagement commenced, it became so dense, that the English commander was scarcely able to see his ships ahead or astern, by which he was prevented from following up his advantage. This, in all probability, saved the enemy from total defeat. As it was, Sir Robert did not judge it prudent to hazard his fleet under such circumstances; and afraid, perhaps, of risking the advantage he had already acquired, he brought-to, in order to cover his prizes. The French and Spanish fleet could have renewed the engagement, during the two days that followed, having the advantage of the windward, and the British repeatedly, by hauling on the wind, incited them to the conflict, but this M. Villeneuve as constantly declined (and thus reserved himself for a worse fate at Trafalgar). On the 24th the wind changed, by which the British had the weather-gauge; but Sir Robert Calder, not thinking it advisable to assume offensive measures, the two hostile fleets separated.