SAMUEL BURT.
CONVICTED OF FORGERY.
MR. BURT, previously to the occurrence for which he was tried and executed, bore a most exemplary character. The particulars of the forgery of which he was guilty do not appear to have come out on the trial, when the prisoner pleaded guilty; but his object in its commission, as well as in refusing to deny his guilt, may be collected from the manner in which he addressed the Court on his being called up for judgment.
He said, “My lord,—I am too sensible of the crime I have committed, and for which I justly deserve to suffer, not to know that I have forfeited my life, and I wish to resign it into the hands of Him who gave it. To give my reasons for this would only satisfy an idle curiosity: no one can feel a more sensible, heartfelt satisfaction in the hopes of shortly passing into eternity, wherein, I trust, I shall meet with great felicity. I have no desire to live; and as the jury and court in my trial thought proper to recommend me to mercy, if his majesty should in consequence thereof grant me a reprieve, I here vow in the face of Heaven, that I will put an end to my own existence as soon as I can. It is death that I wish for, because nothing but death can extricate me from the troubles in which my follies have involved me.”
Sentence was then passed in due form, but we do not find any entry of its having been carried out; and it is therefore very likely that the recommendation of the jury, alluded to by the prisoner, was attended to. The last notice which is taken of the case in the books is in the following terms:—“Samuel Burt, the unhappy youth who, under a depression of mind, abhorring the guilt of suicide, committed a forgery in order to suffer death by the law, was respited;” dated December, 1787.
From the observations made by the prisoner, it is pretty evident that he was labouring under a species of insanity, by which he was persuaded that he must suffer death. The following instances of a similar description are of a character far more melancholy, inasmuch as that in each the murder of a fellow-creature was the means adopted by the unhappy maniac, for the offenders can be considered in no other light, to secure his own death.
On the 4th of September, 1760, when North America was a British province, Mr. Robert Scull and several gentlemen were playing at billiards in Philadelphia, when Captain Bruluman, late of the Royal American regiment, came into the room, and, without the smallest provocation, levelled a loaded gun, which he had brought with him, and shot Mr. Scull through the body just after he had struck his ball.
It afterwards appeared that this desperate man had been brought up a silversmith; and that having entered the army, he became an officer in the Royal American regiment, but was broke on his being detected in counterfeiting or uttering base money. He then returned to Philadelphia, and growing insupportable to himself, and yet unwilling to put an end to his own life, he determined upon the commission of some crime, for which he would certainly be hanged by the law.
Having formed this design, he loaded his gun with a brace of balls, and asked his landlord to go shooting with him, intending to murder him before his return; but the landlord, fortunately for himself, being particularly engaged at home, escaped the danger. He then went out alone, and on the way met a man whom he was about to kill; but recollecting that there were no witnesses to prove him guilty, he suffered the man to pass.
He next proceeded to the tavern, where he drank some liquor; and hearing people playing at billiards in a room above that in which he sat, he went up stairs, and entered into conversation with the players in apparent good humour. In a little time he called the landlord, and desired him to hang up the gun. Mr. Scull having struck his antagonist’s ball in one of the pockets, Bruluman said to him, “Sir, you are a good marksman; now I’ll show you a fine stroke.” He immediately took down his gun, levelled it, deliberately took aim at Mr. Scull (who imagined him in jest), and shot both the balls through his body. He then went up to the dying man, who was still sensible, and said to him, “Sir, I have no malice or ill will against you; I never saw you before; but I was determined to kill somebody that I might be hanged, and you happen to be the man; and I am very sorry for your misfortune.” Mr. Scull had just time left in this world to send for his friends, and make his will. He forgave his murderer, and if it could be done, desired he might be pardoned; but Bruluman died on the gallows, exulting in his fate.
The same volume from which we make the above extract contains another case of the like nature, and, if possible, more extraordinary. It appears, however, that in this instance the judges of the unfortunate offender treated him as was most proper—as a maniac. The scene of this second murder is not mentioned.