HIGH LIFE IN NEWGATE.
Lord Aldborough quizzes the Lord Chancellor—Voted a libeller by the House of Peers—His spirited conduct—Sentenced to imprisonment in Newgate by the Court of King’s Bench—Memoirs of Mr. Knaresborough—His extraordinary trial—Sentenced to death, but transported—Escapes from Botany Bay, returns to England, and is committed to Newgate, where he seduces Lady Aldborough’s attendant—Prizes in the lottery—Miss Barton dies in misery.
Lord Aldborough was an arrogant and ostentatious man; but these failings were nearly redeemed by his firmness and gallantry in his memorable collision with Lord Chancellor Clare.
Lord Aldborough, who had built a most tasteful and handsome house immediately at the northern extremity of Dublin, had an equity suit with Mr. Beresford, a nephew of Lord Clare, as to certain lots of ground close to his lordship’s new and magnificent mansion, which, among other conveniences, had a chapel on one wing and a theatre on the other, stretching away from the centre in a chaste style of ornamental architecture.
The cause was in Chancery, and was not protracted very long. Lord Aldborough was defeated, with full costs: his pride, his purse, and his mansion, must all suffer; and meddling with either of these was sufficient to rouse his lordship’s spleen. He appealed, therefore, to the House of Peers, where, in due season, the cause came on for hearing, and where the chancellor himself presided. The lay lords did not much care to interfere in the matter; and, without loss of time, Lord Clare of the House of Peers confirmed the decree of Lord Clare of the Court of Chancery, with full costs against the appellant.
Lord Aldborough had now no redress but to write at the lord chancellor; and without delay he fell to composing a book against Lord Clare and the system of appellant jurisdiction, stating that it was totally an abuse of justice to be obliged to appeal to a prejudiced man against his own prejudices,—and particularly so in the present instance, Lord Clare being notorious as an unforgiving chancellor to those who vexed him: few lords attending to hear the cause, and such as did not being much wiser for the hearing:—it being the province of counsel to puzzle not to inform noblemen, he had no chance.
Lord Aldborough, in his book, humorously enough stated an occurrence that had happened to himself when travelling in Holland. His lordship was going to Amsterdam on one of the canals in a trekschuit—the captain or skipper of which, being a great rogue, extorted from his lordship for his passage much more than he had a lawful right to claim. My lord expostulated with the skipper in vain: the fellow grew rude; his lordship persisted; the skipper got more abusive. At length Lord Aldborough told him he would, on landing, immediately go to the proper tribunals and get redress from the judge. The skipper cursed him as an impudent milord, and desired him to do his worst, snapping his tarry finger-posts in his lordship’s face. Lord Aldborough paid the demand, and, on landing, went to the legal officer to know when the court of justice would sit. He was answered, at nine next morning. Having no doubt of ample redress, he did not choose to put the skipper on his guard by mentioning his intentions. Next morning he went to court, and began to tell his story to the judge, who sat with his broad-brimmed hat on, in great state, to hear causes of that nature. His lordship fancied he had seen the man before; nor was he long in doubt! for ere he had half finished, the judge, in a voice like thunder, (but which his lordship immediately recognised, for it was that of the identical skipper!) decided against him with full costs, and ordered him out of court. His lordship, however, said he would appeal, and away he went to an advocate for that purpose. He did accordingly appeal, and the next day his appeal cause came regularly on. But all his lordship’s stoicism forsook him, when he again perceived that the very same skipper and judge was to decide the appeal who had decided the cause; so that the learned skipper first cheated, and then sent him about his business, with three sets of costs to console him.
The noble writer having in his book made a very improper and derogatory application of this Dutch precedent to Lord Chancellor Clare and the Irish appellant jurisdiction, was considered by his brother peers as having committed a gross breach of their privileges, and was thereupon ordered to attend in his place, and defend himself (if any defence he had) from the charge made against him by the lord chancellor and the peers of Ireland. Of course the House of Lords was thronged to excess to hear his lordship’s vindication. I went an hour before it met, to secure a place behind the throne, where the commoners were allowed to crowd up as well as they could.
The chancellor, holding the vicious book in his hand, asked Lord Aldborough if he admitted that it was of his writing and publication? To which his lordship replied,—that he could admit nothing as written or published by him, till every word of it should be first truly read to their lordships aloud in the House. Lord Clare, wishing to curtail some parts, began to read it himself; but being rather short, and not quite near enough to the light, his opponent took a pair of enormous candlesticks from the table, walked deliberately up to the throne, and requested the chancellor’s permission to hold the candles for him whilst he was reading the book! This novel sort of effrontery put the chancellor completely off his guard: he was outdone, and permitted Lord Aldborough to hold the lights, whilst he read aloud the libel comparing himself to a Dutch skipper: nor did the obsequious author omit to set him right here and there when he omitted a word or proper emphasis. It was ludicrous beyond example, and gratifying to the secret ill-wishers of Lord Clare, who bore no small proportion to the aggregate numbers of the House. The libel being duly read through, Lord Aldborough at once spiritedly and adroitly said that he avowed every word of it to their lordships;—but that it was not intended as any libel either against the House or the jurisdiction, but as a constitutional and just rebuke to their lordships for not performing their bounden duty in attending the hearing of the appeal: he being quite certain that if any sensible men had been present, the lord chancellor would only have had two lords and two bishops (of his own creation) on his side of the question.
This was considered as an aggravation of the contempt, though some thought it was not very far from matter-of-fact.—The result was, that after a bold speech, delivered with great earnestness, his lordship was voted guilty of a high breach of privilege toward the Irish House of Peers, and a libel on the lord chancellor, as chairman of the House.
His lordship was afterward ordered to Newgate for six months by the Court of King’s Bench (on an information filed against him by the attorney-general for a libel on Lord Clare); which sentence, he told them, he considered, under the circumstances, as a high compliment and honour. In fact, he never was so pleased as when speaking of the incident, and declaring that he expected to have his book recorded on the Journals of the Lords:—the chancellor himself (by applying his anecdote of the Dutch skipper) having construed it into a regular episode on his own proceedings and those of the peerage.
Lord Aldborough underwent his full sentence in Newgate; and his residence there gave rise to a fresh incident in the memoirs of a very remarkable person, who, at that time, was an inmate of the same walls (originally likewise through the favour of Chancellor Clare), and lodged on the same staircase; and as I had been professionally interested in this man’s affairs, I subjoin the following statement as curious, and in every circumstance, to my personal knowledge, matter-of-fact.
James Fitzpatrick Knaresborough was a young man of tolerable private fortune in the county of Kilkenny. Unlike the common run of young men at that day, he was sober, money-making, and even avaricious, though moderately hospitable; his principal virtue consisting in making no exhibition of his vices. He was of good figure; and, without having the presence of a gentleman, was what is called a handsome young fellow.
Mr. Knaresborough had been accused of a capital crime by a Miss Barton, (natural daughter of William Barton, Esq., a magistrate of the county of Kilkenny,) who stated that she had gone away with him for the purpose, and in the strict confidence, of being married the same day at Leighlin Bridge.—Her father was a gentleman, a magistrate, and of consideration in the county, and a warrant was granted against Knaresborough for the felony; but he contrived to get liberated on bail—the amount being doubled. The grand-jury, however, on the young woman’s testimony, found true bills against him for the capital offence, and he came to Carlow to take his trial at the assizes. He immediately called on me with a brief,—said it was a mere bagatelle, and totally unfounded,—and that his acquittal would be a matter of course. I had been retained against him; but introduced him to the present Judge Moore, to whom he handed his brief. He made so light of the business, that he told me to get up a famous speech against him, as no doubt I was instructed to do: that indeed I could not say too much; as the whole would appear, on her own confession, to be a conspiracy! nay, so confident was he of procuring his acquittal, that he asked Mr. Moore and myself to dine with him on our road to Kilkenny, which we promised.
On reading my brief, I found that, truly, the case was not over-strong against him even there, where, in all probability, circumstances would be exaggerated; and that it rested almost exclusively on the lady’s own evidence: hence, I had little doubt that, upon cross-examination, the prisoner would be acquitted.
The trial proceeded. I was then rather young at the bar, and determined, for my own sake, to make an interesting and affecting speech for my client;—and having no doubt of Knaresborough’s acquittal, I certainly overcharged my statement, and added some facts solely from invention. My surprise, then, may be estimated, when I heard Miss Barton swear positively to every syllable of my emblazonment! I should now have found myself most painfully circumstanced, but that I had no doubt she must be altogether deprived of credit by his counsel; and, in fact, she was quite shaken on her cross-examination. The prisoner’s advocate smiled at her and at us; and said, “the woman’s credit was so clearly overthrown, that there could be no doubt of Knaresborough’s innocence of the charge of violence; and any protracted defence on so clear a subject would be useless.”
The court seemed to acquiesce. I considered all was over, and left the place as the jury retired. In about an hour, however, I received an account that Knaresborough had been found guilty, and sent back to gaol under sentence of death!—I was thunderstruck, and without delay wrote to the chief secretary, in Dublin, begging him instantly to represent to the lord lieutenant the real facts, and that I, as counsel for the prosecution, knew the total falsity of a great part of her evidence:—execution was in consequence respited. So soon as I could return to town, I waited on Major Hobart and the lord lieutenant, stated precisely the particulars I have here given, and my satisfaction (even from my own brief) that the girl was perjured. They referred me to Lord Chancellor Clare, whose answer I wrote down, and never shall forget: “That may be all very true, Barrington! but he is a rascal, and if he does not deserve to be hanged for this, he does for a former affair,[[66]] right well!” I told him it was quite necessary for me to publish the whole matter, in my own justification. He then took from his bureau a small parcel of papers, and requested me to read them: they proved to be copies of affidavits and evidence on a former accusation, (from which Knaresborough had escaped by lenity,) for snapping a pistol at the father of a girl he had seduced.—Lord Clare, however, recommended his sentence to be changed to transportation: but this was to the convict worse than death, and he enclosed to me a petition which he had sent to government, declining the proposed commutation, and insisting on being forthwith executed, pursuant to his first sentence! Notwithstanding, he was, in fine, actually transported. He had contrived to secure in different ways 10,000l., and took a large sum with him to Botany Bay. I had heard no more of him for several years,—when I was astonished one day by being accosted in the streets of Dublin by this identical man, altered only by time and in the colour of his hair, which had turned quite gray. He was well dressed, had a large cockade in his hat, and did not at all court secrecy. He told me that the governor had allowed him to come away privately: that he had gone through many entertaining and some dismal adventures in Africa, and in America—whence he last came; and he added, that as government were then busy raising troops, he had sent in a memorial, proposing to raise a regiment for a distant service, solely at his own expense. “I have,” said he, “saved sufficient money for this purpose, though my brother has got possession of a great part of my fortune.” In fact, he memorialised and teased the government (who were surprised at his temerity, yet unwilling to meddle with him) until at length they had him arrested, and required to show his written authority from the governor of New South Wales for returning from transportation,—which being unable to do, he was committed to Newgate, to await the governor’s reply.
[66]. The former affair alluded to by Lord Clare was certainly of a most unpardonable description.
Here his firmness and eccentricity never forsook him; he sent in repeated petitions to the ministry, requesting to be hanged, and told me he would give any gentleman 500l. who had sufficient interest to get him put to death without delay! An unsatisfactory answer arrived from New South Wales:—but the government could not, under the circumstances, execute him for his return;—and liberate him Lord Clare would not: his confinement therefore was, of course, indefinitely continued. During its course he purchased a lottery ticket, which turned out a prize of 2000l.; and soon after, a second brought him 500l. He lived well; but having no society, was determined to provide himself a companion at all events.
At this juncture the Earl of Aldborough became his next-door neighbour.—My lady (the best wife in the world) did not desert her husband; and, as all women of rank entertain what they call a “young person” to attend on them;—that is, (speaking generally) a girl handsomer than the mistress, neater in her dress, as good in her address—and more cautious as to her character;—Lady Aldborough brought such a one with her to the prison as her dresser and tea-maker. But this “young person,” considering (as Swift says) that “service is no inheritance,” and that she had no money of her own, and hearing that Fitzpatrick Knaresborough possessed great plenty of that necessary article, some way or other the metallic tractors brought them acquainted on the stairs. To run away with him, she had only to trip across a lobby: so she actually broke the sabbath by taking that journey one Sunday morning, and left my lord and my lady to finish the morning service, and wonder at the attractions of Newgate, which could set a-wandering the virtue of their “young person,” whom all the temptations, luxuries, and lovers of London and Dublin had never been able to lead astray from the path of rectitude! My lady was surprised how “Anna” could possibly connect herself with a convict for such a shocking crime;—but his lordship, who knew the world better, said that was the very reason why Anna admired him. However, the whole business in all its ramifications terminated pretty fortunately. My lord had his full revenge on Lord Clare, and got great credit for his firmness and gallantry; Knaresborough was at length turned out of Newgate when the government were tired of keeping him in; while the “young person” produced sundry other young persons of her own in prison, and was amply provided for. The only set-off to this comedy of “All’s Well that Ends Well” was the melancholy fate of poor Miss Barton, who married, was soon deserted by her husband, after his beating her unmercifully, and died in misery.