Part 31

When called upon for his defence, he proceeded to say, in a Northern dialect and with great energy--"Well, sir, the first impression that I had about it was from a dream. And after I had written five letters to these clergy, the last of which I believe was a very severe one, and all of which I dated from my lodgings at No. 90, Aldwick, I was very anxious to speak to them by word of mouth; but none of them would come near me. So I prayed to the Lord, and asked him what was to be done. And I dreamed that I saw a cloud come over the cathedral--and it rolled towards me at my lodgings; it awoke me out of my sleep, and I asked the Lord what it meant; and he told me it was to warn these clergymen of England, who were going to plays, and cards, and such like: and the Lord told me he had chosen me to warn them, and reminded me of the prophecies--that there should in the latter days be signs in the heavens. I felt so impressed with it, that I found the Lord had destined me to show those people the way to flee from the wrath to come. Then I bethought me that I could not do that job without being out all night, and I considered whether I should let my wife know. I got everything ready, and I took the ring from my wife's finger, and talked to her about what I have mentioned--and I told her what I meant to do: she grieved very much, and I had work to get off. I still staid a few days, but I could get no rest whatever until I had accomplished the work. It was a severe contest between flesh and blood--and then I bethought me what would come of her and my son Richard, who I had at Lincoln. Then the Lord said unto me, 'What thou does, do with all thy might.' I tore from her and said, 'Well, well, Lord--Not my will but thine be done.' I then left Leeds, taking twenty of my books with me; but I had no money, and went into Tadcaster; there I got a gill of ale. [He then proceeded to state the manner in which he travelled and supported himself to York.] On Sunday (February 1st) I went to the cathedral service, and it vexed me to hear them singing their prayers and amens. I knew it did not come from the heart, it was deceiving the people. Then there was the organ, buz! buz! and said I to mysen, I'll hae thee down to-night, thou shot buz no more! well, they were all going out, and I lay me down by't side of the Bishop's round by the pillar. [The prisoner concealed himself behind a tomb, between which and the wall there was a space that more than one person might lie down in.] I thought I heard the people coming down from the bells; they all went out, and then it was so dark that I could not see my hand. Well, I left this Bishop, and came out and fell upon my knees, and asked the Lord what I was to do first; and he said, Get thy way up the bell-loft; I had never been there, and I went round and round; I had a sort of guess of the place from hearing the men as I thought come down; I then struck a light with a flint and a razor that I had got, and some tinder that I had brought from my landlord's. I saw there were plenty of ropes--then I cut one, and then another; but I had no idea they were so long, and I kept draw, draw, and the rope came up. I dare say I had hundred feet. Well, thought I to myself, this will make a man-rope, a sort of skaling rope, and I tied knots in it. Ay, that's it, I know it well enough (pointing to the rope which lay upon the table). So I went down to the body of the cathedral, and bethought me how I should get inside. I thought if I did so, by throwing the rope over the organ, I might set it _ganging_, and that would spoil the job. So I made an end of the rope fast, and went hand over-hand over the gates, and got down on the other side, and fell on my knees and prayed to the Lord--and he told me, that do what I would, they would take me. Then I asked the Lord what I was to do with velvet, and he told me, and I thought it would do for my hairy jacket, that I have at Lincoln. I have a very good seal-skin one there. I wish I had it with me, that I might show it you. Then I got all ready. Glory to God, I never felt so happy; but I had a hard night's work of it, particularly with a hungered belly. Well, I got a bit of wax-candle, and I set fire to one heap, and with the matches I set fire to the other. I then tied up the things that the Lord had given me for my hire, in this very handkerchief that I have in my hand. [The prisoner then went on to describe his escape by means of the rope, nearly in the same terms as have been stated, and of his proceeding to Hexham; that on the road the coaches passed him, but he laid himself down, and was never seen.] While I was at Hexham (I think I had been there two days) I had been to pray with a poor woman, and the Hexham man came and tipped me on the shoulder." He concluded by saying, "I's tired, or I'd tell you more."

The unfortunate man was ordered to be detained during his Majesty's pleasure, and was afterwards conveyed to a lunatic asylum.

It appeared that this maniac was the brother of the painter, who, for his magnificent productions, has attained so much celebrity. Up to the time of this transaction, he had gained a precarious livelihood by hawking books; having been, however, as we have before stated, once or twice confined in a mad-house.

It is very remarkable that York Minster has repeatedly suffered from fire. Its origin may be dated from A.D. 626. In 741 it was dreadfully damaged by fire, and remained in that state till 767, when it was taken down, rebuilt, and completed, and was consecrated in 780. Thus it stood until 1069, when the Northumbrians, aided by the Danes, having besieged the city of York, the garrison set fire to several houses in the suburbs, which fire unfortunately extended further than they intended, and, amongst other buildings, burnt the Minster to the ground. In 1137, the same fire which burnt St. Mary's Abbey, St. Leonard's Hospital, thirty-nine churches in the city, and one in the suburbs, again destroyed the Minster; since which there had not been any damage done to it by fire, excepting two trifling occurrences, which have taken place through the neglect of the workmen, within the last sixty years, up to the time of Martin's mad attempt. In the present year (1840), it has again suffered severely from an accidental conflagration, which has destroyed nearly the whole of that portion of the ancient building which the former catastrophe had left standing.

JOHN STACEY, THE YOUNGER,

EXECUTED FOR MURDER; AND

JOHN STACEY, THE ELDER,

TRANSPORTED AS AN ACCESSORY AFTER THE FACT.

The murder of which the former of these diabolical criminals was guilty very closely resembles that mention of which will be found in a preceding part of our calendar, of Mr. Bird and his housekeeper, which took place at Greenwich.

Mr. Langtrey, it appears, was a person nearly eighty years of age, and of great bodily infirmity, residing in a small house in Prospect-row, Portsmouth, to which he had retired, after he had amassed a considerable fortune in his business as a brickmaker. His only servant, and the only other inmate of the house, was a woman upwards of sixty years old, named Christian Joliffe, who acted as housekeeper, but who was assisted in procuring such comforts as the old man required, by a Mrs. Dyott, a neighbour, living at an adjoining cottage. Mr. Langtrey was so feeble as to be unable to quit his bed-room, which was situated on the first floor of his house, and he was attended there by Mrs. Joliffe. He was known to have saved a considerable sum of money, and he was reputed in the neighbourhood to keep a very large amount (in notes and gold) in the house. Amongst those who were observed to be particularly inquisitive into his affairs, was a young man named Stacey, about twenty-one years of age, an apprentice to a barber, living close by, who usually shaved Mr. Langtrey,--an office which his infirmity prevented his performing for himself.

On the morning of Monday the 2nd of March, 1829, the vicinity of the dwelling of the unfortunate old man, was thrown into a state of the utmost confusion and alarm, by the propagation of a report that he and his housekeeper had, in the course of the previous evening, been murdered in a most barbarous and cold-blooded manner. Inquiries were instantly set on foot by the authorities of the town, and it proved that the statement was true; the murders having been discovered by Mrs. Dyott, the assistant of Mrs. Joliffe in her attendance upon her master. Mrs. Dyott, it appeared, had repaired to Mr. Langtrey's house, in accordance with her usual custom, on the previous evening, at a little after six o'clock, to assist Mrs. Joliffe in preparing the old man's bed; but was unable to procure admittance, although she made a considerable noise at the door. Imagining, however, that the old people were asleep, she took little notice of the circumstance; but upon returning on the following morning, and finding the same silence prevail, and the same inattention to her application for admission, she became alarmed, and called in the aid of a neighbour. It was determined by the latter instantly to force open the back door, and upon his entering the house, he at once perceived the fearful crimes which had been committed. Upon the floor of the lower room lay the body of the aged housekeeper, frightfully mangled, and with the head nearly severed from the trunk; while around her lay the instruments by which some of the injuries had evidently been caused. A slater's hammer (smeared with blood and brains), which was known to have belonged to Mr. Langtrey, was lying at her feet; and near her were portions of a broken broom-handle, which had been evidently employed in the desperate conflict which must have taken place between the old woman and her assailant. The scull of the deceased was found to have been completely smashed in, in several places; and around her were pools of blood, extending over a space of several feet. In the upper apartment a scene no less frightful presented itself. The old man, whose age nor infirmities could protect him from the assassin's blow, was found to have been murdered with equal barbarity. His body lay upon the floor, dressed in his usual attire, with his walking-stick by his side; but his scull had been frightfully fractured by repeated blows from the same deadly weapon with which his housekeeper had been assailed, and his blood and brains were scattered over the apartment to a considerable distance.

A further alarm was immediately raised upon this dreadful discovery being made, and the utmost consternation prevailed. Upon a minute examination of the house, it became evident that plunder had been the object of the assassin. The boxes and drawers had been rifled of their contents, which lay strewed about the rooms; and money, deeds, papers, and wearing apparel were scattered in indiscriminate confusion. The murderer had been apparently disturbed in his work of robbery, probably by Mrs. Dyott's knocking on the previous evening, and had left his work unfinished, but a bag containing 600_l._ was found to have been stolen.

The aid of the London police was immediately obtained with a view to the more speedy apprehension of the murderer, for it appeared as if one only had been engaged in the diabolical acts; but several days passed before any suspicion of a tangible nature could be said to attach to any one. Stacey, the barber's apprentice, during the week had pursued his ordinary avocations with his accustomed coolness; and, although the murder had been made the subject of conversation in his presence, had exhibited no agitation or feeling which could indicate that he viewed the circumstance in any but the most ordinary light. On the Friday, however, he complained of a sore hand, and claimed exemption from work; and on the Monday following, he became very free with his money. His wages as an apprentice amounted only to two shillings and sixpence per week; but on this day he was observed to quit Portsmouth in a hired chaise, with two women of the town, on a "lark" as he expressed himself. Some suspicion in consequence attached to him, which was strengthened by the discovery of a knife which corresponded in every particular with one which was known to have belonged to him, at a short distance from the scene of the murder, and in a direct line between that place and his father's residence, smeared with blood and hair. The instrument with which the throat of the unfortunate Mrs. Joliffe had been cut could nowhere be found in the house; and it was at once concluded that the weapon which had been discovered was that which had been used for that horrid purpose. Upon inquiry, it turned out that young Stacey had been absent from his master's house on the afternoon of the murder, with a fellow-apprentice named Connamore, the brother-in-law of his master, and had been at his father's house, in Charlotte-row, during a considerable portion of that evening. It was, in consequence, thought advisable that he should be at once apprehended; and the result proved the propriety of the adoption of such a course. He was discovered by the constables at a house at Porchester, in company with the females who had quitted Portsmouth with him; and immediately on his perceiving that he was pursued, he became agitated, and exclaiming, "I am done!" endeavoured to conceal himself in a barn. He was soon discovered, however, and carried back to Portsmouth, where he was examined before the magistrates. The testimony of young Connamore proved to be most important. From his statement, it appeared that Stacey had told him that old Langtrey had desired him to purchase for him a tract called "The Book of Martyrs;" that Stacey having no money, had requested him to advance the necessary means for this purpose; and that he himself purchased the tract, and handed it over to his companion. On the Sunday, the 1st of March, Stacey and he went from their master's house to visit the father of the former, taking the tract with them, which Stacey expressed his intention to carry to the old man. They remained together during the greater part of the day, but at about twenty minutes before six in the evening, young Stacey went away, carrying the tract with him. It was nearly eight o'clock before he returned, and then on his knocking at the door, the witness let him in. He passed rapidly by him, and rushed up stairs, at the same time calling to his father that he wanted him. The latter directly followed him, and they remained in close conversation for a considerable time. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Stacey, who was young Stacey's step-mother, joined them, and then Connamore heard something as if some clothes were thrown into a tub of water and washed. Immediately after this, old Stacey sent him off to a distant shop to purchase some bread and cheese, and on his return, he found his fellow-apprentice sitting by the fire, without his shirt, which his step-mother was drying by the fire, after it had been apparently washed, and which was subsequently ironed before he put it on. At about half-past nine o'clock, he returned home with young Stacey, and on their way the latter said that he had been fighting, and had got some blood about his clothes. The witness examined his coat, and found that a portion of it was so completely covered with blood as to require a knife to scrape it off. It further appeared that a copy of the tract, called "The Book of Martyrs," was found close by the bloody knife which had been discovered, and the additional testimony of a witness having been obtained of the prisoner having been seen getting over the railings of old Langtrey's house on the night of the murder, he was committed for trial. His father also, of whose knowledge of and acquiescence in the murder there could be no doubt, was also secured, and committed to take his trial on the minor charge of harbouring his son, at the same assizes.

In the interim the additional evidence of the identity of a glove which had been found in the house of Mr. Langtrey, and which had been left there by the murderer, was procured, from which it appeared that it was one of a pair which had been given to young Stacey by a gentleman, and both of which he wore on the day on which the murder was committed.

During his confinement, young Stacey exhibited little contrition; but after having been visited by his three sisters, he appeared to become sensible of the awful nature of his position, and confessed to a fellow-prisoner that he was guilty of the crimes imputed to him, and communicated the manner in which he had murdered the poor old people. He said, that he had presented himself at the door with the tract in his hand, and that having gained admission to the house, he seized Mrs. Joliffe by the throat with an intention to strangle her, but that finding she resisted, he took the candlestick which she held in her hand from her, and beat her over the head with it until it was bent in all directions. She at length fell down, and then he seized the handle of a broom, with which he beat her, until she ceased to move, and he thought she was dead, the broom, however, being broken in the struggle. He then went up stairs to the old man, and seizing him by the collar, demanded his money. He made some resistance, and struck him with his stick; upon which he knocked him out of his chair; and taking up a tiling hammer, which he saw in the room, he killed him. Returning down stairs, he thought Mrs. Joliffe moved, and he struck her also repeated blows with the hammer, and at last took out his knife and cut her throat. Whilst engaged in this act, some one knocked at the door, and he became terribly alarmed; but he heard the person go away, and then he commenced his work of robbery. He was too hurried, however, to secure more than the bag containing 600_l._; but before he took this, he cut the old man's throat, in order to be certain that he was not watching him.

On the same day on which this most fearful detail of his crimes was made by young Stacey, his father also made a confession, pointing out the place in which he had concealed the bag of money. The turf had been cut out, and the bag placed beneath it, in such a manner as to have rendered it exceedingly doubtful that it would ever have been discovered, but for its being pointed out. The whole of the money was recovered, with the exception of about 30_l._, which had been spent by the younger prisoner in the purchase of a watch and seals, and some articles of clothing.

The trial of the prisoners came on before Mr. Justice Burrough, at Winchester, on Thursday the 30th of August, in the same year, when a verdict of guilty was returned upon the facts which we have detailed being proved in evidence.

The learned judge at once passed the sentence of death upon the younger prisoner, who was ordered to be executed on the following Monday, and his father was sentenced to be transported for life.

The day fixed for the execution being that upon which Magdalen Hill Fair was held, the concourse of people assembled was immense. The wretched criminal met his fate with sulky resolution, and declined the services of the chaplain, whom he had dismissed on the previous day. His parting from his father is related to have taken place without the smallest exhibition of regret or feeling on either side; and the miserable parent had so far overcome the ordinary sensations of paternal affection, as to request to be permitted to witness his son's execution,--a request which was granted; and of the accordance to which he took advantage. The miserable youth appeared to suffer but little after he was turned off. Upon the scaffold he declared that he was assisted in the murder by an associate of his, whom he named; but who, subsequently, distinctly proved his innocence.

The execution took place on Monday, the 2nd of September 1829, at Winchester, opposite the jail.

RICHARD GIFFORD.

EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.

In the termination of the career of this unhappy young man, the direful effects of dissipation are clearly evidenced. Having received an education in Christ's Hospital, and backed by interest calculated to procure for him advantages of a first-rate character, his weakness of mind led him step by step from a position of respectability through the various grades of dissipation, until it involved him in a system of crime, for which his life was taken away by the laws of his country.

Gifford's father was originally a butler in the family of Mr. Abbott, afterwards Speaker of the House of Commons, and finally Lord Colchester. His mother was also a servant in the same family. On Mr. Gifford's marriage, Mr. Abbott obtained for him a situation about the House of Commons; and when they had a family, care was evinced for the welfare and advancement of the children. Richard Gifford was the eldest son and child, and when he arrived at an age fit to be sent to school, admission into the admirable institution of Christ's Hospital was obtained for him. After quitting the Blue Coat School, he had some occasional and temporary occupation as a writer in the Parliament offices. Eventually, through Lord Colchester's influence, a situation was procured for him in the "National Debt Office;" and the death, advancement, or removal of those above him were most favourable to him, and he rose rapidly. For some time he gave satisfaction in his office; but, at last, the fatal peculiarities which ruined him--the love of drink, and low and abandoned company--broke out with undisguised violence, and he neglected both office and home. His inattention to business led to three or four several suspensions from his office; and it was only by the most powerful and influential intercession that his friends could have him restored: but, at length, his conduct was so outrageously bad, and his absences so long and continued, that he was finally dismissed. It was long before his friends could find him, and apprehensions began to be entertained whether he was still in existence; however, at last his mother (who was most tenderly attached to him) discovered his retreat. Having found him, she succeeded in getting him out of his infamous den, and in taking him home with her. On his part, contrition or concern about the past was not visible, and though the kindest efforts were made to keep him in the house, in the hope of estranging him from bad company and diverting him from infamous ways, to succeed his parents were obliged to keep him without hat or money, and almost without clothes. Eventually, it was supposed, or hoped, that he was somewhat changed, and that his disposition was a little mollified, which induced his mother, in particular, to take him out occasionally. He, however, finally absconded from his parents' roof, revengefully announcing, that "he would make them remember their conduct to him--he would do for them yet," and other such language. What became of him they knew not; at last, he was heard of as living in a respectable style, appearing well-dressed, at a house near the Waterloo-road. To account for the change, he gave it out that he was married, and that his wife had money. Almost the next thing heard of him was, his being before the Lord Mayor, undergoing examination on charges of forgery on the Bank.