John Butt, University of Edinburgh
James L. Clifford, Columbia University
Ralph Cohen, University of California, Los Angeles
Vinton A. Dearing, University of California, Los Angeles
Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago
Louis A. Landa, Princeton University
Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota
Everett T. Moore, University of California, Los Angeles
James Sutherland, University College, London
H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., University of California, Los Angeles
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
Edna C. Davis, Clark Memorial Library
INTRODUCTION
The Enquiry into the Causes of the Frequent Executions at Tyburn was originally published as a series of letters to the British Journal. The first letter appeared on February 27, 1725;[1] just twelve days before, Jonathan Wild, self-proclaimed "Thief-Catcher General of Great Britain and Ireland," had been arrested and imprisoned in Newgate. Thus the Enquiry had a special timeliness and forms a part of the contemporary interest in the increasingly notorious activities of Wild. Wild's systematic exploitation of the London underworld and his callous betrayal of his colleagues in criminality (he received £40 from the government for each capital conviction he could claim) had created public protest since at least 1718 when an act (which Mandeville cites in his Preface) directed against receivers of stolen goods was passed, most probably with the primary intention of curtailing Wild's operations. Wild's notoriety was at its peak in 1724-5 after his successful apprehension of Joseph Blake ("Blueskin") and Jack Sheppard, the latter figure becoming a kind of national hero after his five escapes from prison (he was recaptured by Wild each time).[2]
The timeliness of Mandeville's pamphlet extends, of course, beyond its interest in Jonathan Wild, who after all receives comparatively little of Mandeville's attention. The spectacle of Tyburn itself and the civil and moral failures it represented was one which Londoners could scarcely ignore and which for some provided a morbid fascination. Mandeville's vivid description of the condemned criminal in Newgate, his journey to Tyburn, and his "turning off," must have been strikingly forceful to his contemporaries, who knew all too well the accuracy of his description.
"Tyburn Fair" was a holiday. Apprentices deserted their posts, pickpockets, dram-dealers and other free-lance caterers, prostitutes, grub-street elegiasts armed with dying speeches or commemorative verses, went to theirs, to swell the enormous and unruly holiday mob, a mob given a certain tone by the presence of the respectable or aristocratic curious (Boswell says "I must confess that I myself am never absent from a public execution") who came in their coaches or even rode along with the condemned in his cart. The mob at Tyburn reached enormous proportions. Thirty thousand people witnessed an execution in 1776; eighty thousand an execution in Moorfields in 1767.[3] Richardson, in Familiar Letters on Important Occasions (Letter CLX) refers to the "pressure of the mob, which is prodigious, nay, almost incredible."
When such popular madness was climaxed by the generally unrepentant criminal's drunken bravado (Richardson's criminals "grew most shamefully daring and wanton.... They swore, laugh'd and talked obscenely"[4]), and by their glorification by the mob (according to Fielding the criminal at Tyburn was "triumphant," and enjoyed the "compassion of the meek and tender-hearted, and ... the applause, admiration, and envy, of all the bold and hardened"[5]), serious-minded men rightly wondered what valid end the execution of the law served. And of course it was not merely that the criminal died unrepentant or that the spectators remained unedified and undeterred. The scene at Tyburn also reflected society's failure to utilize a significant portion of its "most useful members," a failure disturbing to the dominant mercantile attitude of the time which valued "the bodies of men" as potential sources of wealth (Mandeville's concern with the usefulness of the lower class is obvious throughout the first part of the Fable of the Bees and in the Essay on Charity, and Charity-schools).
Mandeville's subject, then, was one familiar to his readers and one whose importance they recognized. His attitude toward his subject was for the most part a thoroughly conventional one. For instance, his primary assumption that the penal code must be harsh since its function is to deter, not to reclaim, pervades eighteenth-century thought on the subject and is clearly reflected in the number of offences carrying the death penalty (160 when Blackstone wrote; 220 in the early nineteenth century). Its logical culmination may be found in arguments such as George Ollyffe presented in 1731. Ollyffe, noting that the frequency of the death penalty was not deterring criminals, suggests that more horrible forms of punishment be devised, such as breaking on the wheel, "by which the Criminals run through ten thousand thousand of the most exquisite Agonies ... during the unconceivable Torture of their bruised, broken, and disjointed Limbs," or "twisting a little Cord hard about their Arms or Legs," which would produce the "keenest Anguish."[6] Ollyffe's public-spirited ingenuity should be a warning to modern readers who assume that Mandeville's attitude is unusually harsh and unfeeling.