incredible. I have been represented to you as a man who was given to gambling, and the constant companion of gamblers. To this accusation, in some part, my heart with feeling penitence pleads guilty. I have gambled. I have been a gambler, but not for the last three years. During that time I have not attended or betted upon a horse-race, or a fight, or any public exhibition of that nature. If I have erred in these things, half of the nobility of the land have been my examples; some of the most enlightened statesmen of the country have been my companions in them. I have indeed been a gambler-I have been an unfortunate one. But whose fortune have I ruined?-whom undone? My own family have I ruined-I have undone myself! At this moment I feel the distress of my situation. But, gentlemen, let not this misfortune entice your verdict against me. Beware of your own feelings, when you are told by the highest authority, that the heart of man is deceitful above all things. Beware, gentlemen, of an anticipated verdict. It is the remark of a very sage and experienced writer of antiquity, that no man becomes wicked all at once. And with this, which I earnestly request you to bear in mind, I proceed to lay before you the whole career of my life. I will not tire you with tedious repetitions, but I will disclose enough of my past life to inform your judgments; leaving it to your clemency to supply whatever little defects you may observe. You will consider my misfortunes, and the situation in which I stand-the deep anxiety that I must feel-the object for which I have to strive. You may suppose something of all this; but oh! no pencil, though dipped in the lines of heaven, can portray my feelings at this crisis. Recollect, I again entreat you, my situation, and allow something for the workings of a mind little at ease; and pity and forgive the faults of my address.

The conclusion of the late war, which threw its lustre upon the fortunes of the nation generally, threw a gloomy shade over mine. I entered into a mercantile life with feelings as kind, and with a heart as warm, as I had carried with me in the service. I took the commercial world as if it had been governed by the same regulations as the army. I looked upon the merchants as if they had been my mess-companions. In my transactions I had with them my purse was as open, my heart as warm, to answer their demands, as they had been to any former associates. I need not say that any fortune, however ample, would.have been insufficient to meet such a course of conduct. I, of course, became the subject of a commission of bankruptcy. My solicitor, in whom I had foolishly confided as my most particular friend, I discovered, too late, to have been a traitor-a man who was foremost in the ranks of my bitterest enemies. But for that man, I should still have been enabled to regain a station in society, and I should have yet preserved the esteem of my friends, and, above all, my own self-respect. But how often is it seen that the avarice of one creditor destroys the clemency of all the rest, and for ever dissipates the fair prospects of the unfortunate debtor. With the kind assistance of Mr. Thomas Oliver Springfield, I obtained the signature of all my creditors to a petition for superseding my bankruptcy. But just then, when I flattered myself that my ill fortune was about to closethat my blossoms were ripening-there came "a frost-a nipping frost." My chief creditor refused to sign unless he was paid a bonus of £300 upon his debt beyond all the other creditors. This demand was backed by the man who was at the time his and my solicitor. I spurned the offer-I awakened his resentment. I was cast upon the world-my all disposed of-in the deepest distress. My brother afterwards availed himself of my misfortune, and entered into business. His warehouses were destroyed by the accident of a fire, as has been proved by the verdict of a jury on a trial at which the venerable judge now present presided. But that accident, unfortunate as it was, has been taken advantage of in order to insinuate that he was guilty of crime, because his property was destroyed by it, as will be proved by the verdict of an honest and upright jury in an action for conspi

racy, which will be tried ere long before the Chief Justice of the King's Bench. A conspiracy there was-but where? Why, in the acts of the prosecutor himself, Mr. Barber Beaumont, who was guilty of suborning witnesses, and who will be proved to have paid for false testimony. Yes; this professed friend of the aggrieved-this pretended prosecutor of public abuses this self-appointed supporter of the laws, who panders to rebellion, and has had the audacity to raise its standard in the front of the royal palacethis man, who has just head enough to contrive crime, but not heart enough to feel its consequences-this is the real author of the conspiracy which will shortly undergo legal investigation. To these particulars I have thought it necessary to call your attention, in language which you may think perhaps too warm-in terms not so measured, but that they may incur your reproof. But

The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear,
The blood will follow where the knife is driven.

You have been told that I intended to decoy Woods to his destruction, and he has said that he saw me in the passage of the house. I can prove by honest witnesses, fellow-citizens of my native city of Norwich, that I was there at that time; but, for the sake of an amiable and innocent female, who might be injured, I grant to Mr. Woods the mercy of my silence. When before this, did it ever fall to the lot of any subject to be borne down by the weight of calumny and obloquy which now oppresses me? The press, which ought to be the shield of public liberty, the avenger of public wrongs-which, above all, should have exerted itself to preserve the purity of its favourite institution, the trial by jury-has directed its whole force to my injury and prejudice; it has heaped slander upon slander, and whetted the public appetite for slanders more atrocious; nay, more, what in other men would serve to refute and repel the shaft of calumny, is made to stain with a deeper dye the villanies ascribed to me. One would have thought, that some time spent in the service of my country would have entitled me to some favour from the public under a charge of this nature. But no; in my case the order of things is changed-nature is reversed. The acts of times long since past have been made to cast a deeper shadow over the acts attributed to me within the last few days; and the pursuit of a profession, hitherto held honourable among honourable men, has been turned to the advantage of the accusation against me. You have been told that after the battle, I boasted of my inhumanity to a vanquished, yielding, wounded enemy-that I made a wanton sacrifice of my bleeding and supplicating foe, by striking him to the earth with my cowardly steel; and that, after this deed of blood, I coldly sat down to plunder my unhappy victim. Nay, more-that with folly indescribable and incredible, I boasted of my barbarity as of a victory. Is there an English officer, is there an English soldier, or an English man, whose heart would not have revolted with hatred against such baseness and folly Far better, gentlemen, would it have been for me, rather than have seen this day, to have fallen with my honourable companions, stemming and opposing the tide of battle upon the field of my country's glory. Then my father and my family, though they would have mourned my loss, would have blessed my name, and shame would not have rolled its burning fires over my memory!Before I recur to the evidence brought against my life, I wish to return my most sincere thanks to the high sheriff and the magistrates for their kindness shown to me. I cannot but express my unfeigned regret at a slight misunderstanding which has occurred between the Rev. Mr. Lloyd, the visiting magistrate, and my solicitor. As it was nothing more than a misunderstanding, I trust the bonds of friendship are again ratified between us all. My most particular gratitude is due to the Rev. Mr. Franklin, whose kind visits and pious consolations have inspired me with a deeper sense of the awful truths of religion, and have trebly armed my breast with fortitude to serve me on this day. Though last, not least let me not forget Mr. Wilson, the governor of the prison, and the fatherly

treatment which he has shown me throughout. My memory must perish ere I can forget his kindness. My heart must be cold ere it can cease to beat with gratitude to him, and wishes for the prosperity of his family.

*

*

Here the prisoner read a long written comment on the weaker parts of the evidence; the stronger and indeed the decisive parts he left untouched. This paper was either so ill-written, or Thurtell was so imperfect a reader, that the effect was quite fatal to the previous flowery appeal to the jury. He stammered, blundered, and seemed confused throughout. When he finished his book, and laid aside the paper, he seemed to return with joy and strength to his memory, and to muster up all his might for the peroration.

"And now, gentlemen, having read those cases to you, am not I justified in saying, that unless you are thoroughly convinced that the circumstances before you are absolutely inconsistent with my innocence, I have a claim to your verdict of acquittal? Am I not justified in saying, that you might come to the conclusion that all the circumstances stated might be true, and yet I be innocent? I am sure, gentlemen, you will banish from your minds any prejudice which may have been excited against me, and act upon the principle that every man is to be deemed innocent until he is proved guilty. Judge of my case, gentlemen, with mature consideration, and remember that my existence depends upon your breath. If you bring in a verdict of guilty, the law afterwards allows no mercy. If, upon a due consideration of all the circumstances, you shall have a doubt, the law orders, and your own consciences will teach you to give me the benefit of it. Cut me not off in the summer of my life! I implore you, gentlemen, to give my case your utmost attention. I ask not so much for myself as for those respectable parents whose name I bear, and who must suffer in my fate. I ask it for the sake of that home which will be rendered cheerless and desolate by my death. Gentlemen, I am incapable of any dishonourable action. Those who know me best know that I am utterly incapable of an unjust and dishonourable action, much less of the horrid crime with which I am now charged. There is not, I think, one in this court who does not think me innocent of the charge. If there be to him or to them, I say in the language of the apostle, ' Would to God ye were altogether such as I am, save these bonds.' Gentlemen, I have now done. I look with confidence to your decision. I repose in your hands all that is dear to the gentleman and the man! I have poured my heart before you as to my God! I hope your verdict this day will be such as you may ever after be able to think upon with a composed conscience; and that you will also reflect upon the solemn declaration which I now makeI-am-innocent!-So-help-me- -God !"

The solid, slow, and appalling tone in which he wrung out these last words can never be imagined by those who were not auditors of it: he had worked himself up into a great actor-and his eye for the first time during the trial became alive and eloquent; his attitude was impressive in the extreme. He clung to every separate word with an earnestness which cannot be described, as though every syllable had the power to buoy up his sinking life, and that these were the last sounds that were ever to be sent into the ears of those who were to decree his doom! The final word, God! was thrown up with an almost gigantic energy; and he stood after its utterance with his arms extended, his face protruded, and his chest dilated, as if the spell of the sound were yet upon him, and as though he dared not move lest he should disturb the still echoing appeal! He then drew his hands slowly back, pressed them firmly to his breast, and sat down, half-exhausted, in the dock. When he first commenced his defence, he spoke in a steady artificial manner, after the style of forum orators; but as he warmed in the subject, and felt his ground with the jury, he became more unaffectedly earnest and naturally solemn; and his mention of his mother's love and his father's piety drew the tear up to his eyes almost to falling. He paused; and though

pressed by the judge to rest, to sit down, to desist, he stood up resolute against his feelings, and finally, with one vast gulp, swallowed down his tears! He wrestled with grief, and threw it! When speaking of Barber Beaumont, the tiger indeed came over him, and his very voice seemed to escape out of his keeping. There was such a savage vehemence in his whole look and manner, as quite to awe his hearers. With an unfortunate quotation from a play, in which he long had acted too bitterly, the Revenge! he soothed his maddened heart to quietness, and again resumed his defence, and for a few minutes in a doubly artificial serenity. The tone in which he wished that he had died in battle, resembled Othello's farewell to the pomp of war; and the following consequences of such a death, was as grandly delivered by Thurtell as it was possible to be! "Then my father and my family, though they would have mourned my loss, would have blessed my name; and shame would not have rolled its burning fires over my memory!" Such a performance, for a studied performance it assuredly was, has seldom been seen on the stage, and certainly never off. Thus to act in the very teeth of death, demands a nerve, which not one man in a thousand ever possesses. When Hunt was called upon for his defence, his feeble voice and shrinking manner were doubly apparent, from the overwrought energy which his companion had manifested. He complained of his agitation and fatigue, and requested that a paper which he held in his hand might be read for him; and the clerk of the arraigns read it according to his request in a very feeling manner. It was prudently and advisedly composed by Mr. Harmer. Reliance was placed on the magistrates' promise. When the paper was concluded, Hunt read a few words on a part of Probert's evidence, in a poor dejected voice, and then leant his head upon his hand. He was evidently wasting away minute by minute. His neck-cloth had got quite loose, and his neck looked gaunt and wretched.

Mr. Justice Park summed up at great length, and Thurtell, with an untired spirit, superintended the whole explanation of the evidence; interrupting the judge respectfully but firmly, when he apprehended any omission, or conceived any amendment capable of being made. The charge to the jury occupied several hours; and the jury then requested leave to withdraw. Hunt at this period became much agitated, and as he saw them about to quit the box, he entreated leave to address them; but on his counsel learning and communicating to the judge what the prisoner had to say, the jury were directed to proceed to the consideration of their verdict.

During their absence Thurtell conversed unalarmed with persons beneath and around him: Hunt stood up in the deepest misery and weakness. Twenty minutes elapsed; and the return of the jury was announced.

Whilst way was making through the throng, Hunt leant over the dock, and searched with an agonized eye for the faces of his dooms-men! As they, one by one, passed beneath him, he looked at their countenances with the most hungry agony: he would have devoured their verdict from their very eyes! Thurtell maintained his steadiness.

The foreman delivered the verdict of Guilty, in tears, and in a tone which seemed to say, "We have felt the defence-we have tried to find him innocent-but the evidence is too true!"-respecting Thurtell, he uttered with a subdued sigh, he is guilty.

Thurtell shook not to the last: Hunt was broken down-gone! When asked why sentence of death should not be passed, the latter said nothing, so sunk was he in grief; but Thurtell stood respectfully up, inclining over the dock towards the judge, requesting his merciful postponement of his death from the Friday to Monday; not for himself, but for his friends! Having pressed this on the judge in a calm yet impressive tone, he stood silently waiting his doom.

The judge had put on his black hat-the hat of death-before this appeal; he heard it, and then gave the signal to the crier; who spoke out to the breath

less court, those formal yet awful words: "Be silent in the court while sentence of death is passed upon the prisoners!" His own voice being the only sound that broke the silence.

The sentence was passed. The prisoners were doomed. The world was no longer for them!

Hunt sobbed aloud in the wildness of his distress; his faculties seemed thrown down. Thurtell, whose hours were numbered, bore his fate with an unbroken spirit. While the very directions for his body's dissection were being uttered, he consumed the pinch of snuff which had to that moment been pausing in his fingers! He then shook hands with a friend under the dock, and desired to be remembered to others! Almost immediately the sentence was passed, Wilson handcuffed both the prisoners; and in a few minutes they were removed.

I confess, says an eyewitness, I myself was shaken. I was cold and sick. I looked with tumultuous feelings at that desperate man, thus meeting death as though it were an ordinary circumstance of his life; and when he went through the dark door, he seemed to me gone to his fate. It struck me that death then took him! I never saw him more.

Thurtell on the drop met his death, as he met his trial, without a tremor. His life had been one long scene of vice, but he had iron nerves and a sullen low love of fame,-even black fame,-which stimulated him to be a hero, though but of the gallows. He had learned his defence by heart, and often boasted of the effect it would have.

I know it to be a fact, says the eyewitness already quoted, that Thurtell said about seven hours before his execution, "It is perhaps wrong in my situation, but I own I should like to read Pierce Egan's account of the great fight yesterday" (meaning that between Spring and Langan), having just inquired how it terminated.

Thurtell was executed at Hertford, January the 9th; but Hunt, in consequence of the pledge made before his confession, was sent to the Hulks at Woolwich, and afterwards to New South Wales.

HENRY FAUNTLEROY, ESQ.

FOR FORGERY-AT THE OLD BAILEY, OCTOBER 30, 1824.

AT ten o'clock Mr. Justice Park and Mr. Baron Garrow took their seats on the bench, accompanied by the lord mayor. The attorney-general entered the court at the same time, and took his seat at the table, next Mr. Freshfield, the bank solicitor.

At five minutes past ten o'clock Mr. Henry Fauntleroy was conducted to the bar, between the two city marshals, the head turnkey of Newgate, and accompanied by Mr. Harmer, his solicitor. He was dressed in a full suit of black, and the firmness which he displayed in the morning seemed for the moment to have deserted him, when he was exposed at the bar to the gaze of the court. His step was tremulous; his face pale, and much thinner than when he was first examined at Marlborough-street; his gray hair had rather a lighter hue, as if from the mixture of a little powder; he never for a moment raised his head; but, placing his hands upon the front of the dock, stood with dejected mien while the preliminary forms of the trial were arranging.

The deputy clerk of the arraigns opened the business by addressing the prisoner at the bar in the usual form, and arraigning him upon seven different indictments for forgery, in the following manner, the first: