C. S.
The preceding narrative, with the hints and remarks, are the work of the unhappy sufferer himself. The Editor has been very faithful in adhering to the letter of the narration; and cannot help looking on it as the most extraordinary history of the kind, and of the greatest service to the public of any thing similar to it in the whole world. Unhappy for me, I knew nothing of the prisoner’s intentions till Tuesday morning the 22d of November, the day before he suffered, by one of Mr. Akerman’s servants; with some difficulty I got a sight of the manuscript, the reading of which filled me with amazement; and instantly determined as it would be for the publick benefit for it to be printed, and resolved to see the prisoner, and agree with him directly; the time was short, the copy to be read over betwixt us, and many questions to be asked. I went into the Press-yard to him, where I found a man of a genteel appearance, a likely person, thin narrow face, somewhat cloudy brow’d, about five feet nine inches high, of a spare slender make, his demeanour courteous and affable, and his countenance, though pale, carried the vestigia not only of serenity but innocence. On apprizing him of my business, he said, “Sir, I know you not; but trust and hope you are an honest man: my intentions in the publication, is much against the inclination of my relations; I do it to make all the satisfaction in my power, for the numberless injuries I have done to mankind, and to pay my funeral expences, the executioner, the servants and others, to whom I am indebted. It is worth a good deal of money, but I will leave to your generosity what I am to have for it: the Ordinary has hitherto refused me the Sacrament, under pretence of not being prepared, but in reality, to get from me an account of my life and transactions, for which he would not have given me one farthing, or his charity extended so far towards me, as to furnish me with a little food to keep soul and body together till the time of my death. That is no part of his business. I have been supported by a gentlewoman through my imprisonment in Newgate, in a most kind and christian manner; for which I trust God will bless and reward her a thousand-fold. What is farther wanted concerning me, the undertaker will inform you of himself, or let you know where the gentlewoman is to be found; who has got some other papers concerning me, and will deliver them to you.”
We had just finished our business, when Mr. Cruden, famous for being the author of a Concordance of the Sacred Scriptures, the best ever yet seen in the Christian world, and well known in the republic of letters, came into the prison, to pray with and comfort the five unfortunate men; who very cordially, and with great fervency, joined with him in prayer: Mr. Cruden adapted his whole prayer, which was delivered extempore, to their present deplorable condition, with great propriety and simplicity, to move them to a sense of their guilt, to a firm trust and affiance in God’s mercy, and the certain hope and expectation, on their sincere repentance, of enjoying a state of eternal bliss in the world to come, through the blood, merits, and intercession of Jesus Christ, the redeemer of all mankind: that their state of probation here, was intended to qualify them, for a much more high and happy state; and would be their own fault if they did not attain it. To die, was natural to all men; but the time when, or place where, not worthy a wise man or a Christian’s notice. Then most heartily recommending them to God, and the word of his grace, admonishing them to be chearful and resigned, he left them.
He had not been departed long, till Mr. Ordinary himself appeared; but alas! what a falling off was here! Instead of his presence being agreeable to them, as a Christian pastor should be, they looked upon him as come for nothing but his own advantage; and rather to disturb them with insignificant and impertinent questions, than to take care of their poor souls; besides being honoured with execrations from some of the bye-standers, for none but the Protestant prisoners were suffered to be in Mr. Ordinary’s room: Mr. Cruden, on the contrary, desired all present to join with him, and left the door open all the time of prayer. Speckman and Broughton had the better of master Ordinary, who was obliged to leave them without accomplishing the only end he visited them for; who on coming out of the room, and perhaps smelling a rat, came up to the Editor of this narrative, with an assurance and countenance that carried the true Shannon dip, asked what he came there for; and whether he wanted any thing with them there men; in which being answered in the negative, he vouchsafed to stalk away, blown up with his own sufficiency and consequence.
Mr. Akerman, the keeper, to his eternal honour be it said, all this time was busily employed in procuring food, at his own expence, for the poor naked and starving prisoners, who many of them were at the point of death with the goal distemper; but the Christian reader will not be frightened at this, when he is told this distemper was only hunger. On parting with Mr. Speckman, he solemnly declared, as he trusted in God’s mercies, that every part of his copy was strictly true; and now being satisfied of its publication, he should die without fear, and with perfect resignation. The Editor, on recollecting his person, and having seen him under sentence of death in the beginning of the year 1751, made enquiry of the authenticity of many robberies, &c. here related, and has found them all true in every respect.
The prisoner requested some person might come to him from me in the morning. I requested a worthy friend to do so; who went into the Press-Yard, and the prisoner speedily came down; who, on putting his leg up to have his setters taken off, lifted up his hands and eyes towards heaven, and said in a kind of extasy, This is the finest Morn, that ever I have seen. As soon as this was performed, he was taken on one side to be haltered and pinioned, which he suffered to be done with patience and resignation; praying with uncommon fervency all the time. And then going with this friend to the upper end of the Press-Yard, they read and prayed together for some time, and was then asked if he had any thing farther to say concerning his life; replied, It is all truth, but if Mr. S. finds any thing therein, which may be thought not for the public good, that may be left out if he pleases. At the conclusion of this he addressed himself to the people, requesting their prayers, for his happy entrance into eternity; declaring that he deserved to die, but had great consolation in his last moments; that he never had beat, ill treated, or murdered any one, save in one instance of the post-boy.
The friend was then desired to take some money out of his left breeches pocket, which proved to be eight-pennyworth of half-pence, and to give them to one of the servants who attended on him, desiring his acceptance of that and his wig, which he had ordered to be sent to him: Then wishing farewell to his friend, Mr. Melville a prisoner, and the persons about him; was led by the officer to the cart: which for the first time was hung in mourning, this added much to the solemnity of the occasion. On the way to, and at the place of execution, he was perfectly resigned to his irrevocable doom; and to the last carried himself with the greatest decency and devotion, in full expectation and hope of enjoying the life to come, in the blessed regions of eternal day.
His body was taken care of by his friends, put into a coach and carried to an Undertaker’s in Moorfields, where on searching his pockets, there was found a prayer copied by him from a printed one, two farthings, half a walnut-shell, into which was thrust a long narrow slip of paper, on which he had wrote, “I beg of you to let your trust be in God, for there is your trust, and in no man living;” intending it for the young woman before mentioned. His body was decently interred on Sunday evening the 27th of November, in Tindall’s Burying-ground, Bunhill-fields; aged 29 years: and the service of the church of England, at his own request when living, was there performed.
Since writing the above, I have seen the Ordinary’s Account of Speckman and the other criminals, and that he hath given what he calls the Life of Speckman; which if the reader will give himself the trouble of perusing, he will find nothing but absurdity and contradiction; and that the unhappy man, at the instant of his being turned off, told him was nothing but deceit, asked Master Ordinary forgiveness, whose truly Christian disposition was on this imminent occasion pleased to comply, and pray for the sufferer. This undoubtedly is a laudable act, though the Ordinary did no more than his duty, which I hope he’ll not think too much for him, to make his only rule and guide for the time to come: as a pastor of such a flock he hath much to do, and his constant presence and residence as near the scene of action as the keeper; the necessity and obligation of taking care of the souls of the prisoners, should go hand in hand with that of the care of their bodies.