here were some of the unfortunate doomed men in Newgate who had heard ‘the legend of Lindsay,’ an old Jacobite captive there, and they boasted they would be as true to the cause as Davy had been. This David Lindsay had been guilty of traitorous visits to France, but, comprehended within an amnesty, he returned to England, where, under an Act of William III.’s time, he was tried, convicted, and sentenced to die. His real offence was his refusal to betray his confederates in the interest of King James. In spite of the amnesty, David was carted to Tyburn, serving for an unusual public holiday. When his neck was in the fatal noose, the sheriff tested David’s courage, by telling him he might yet save his life on condition of revealing the names of alleged traitors conspiring at St. Germain or in Scotland against Queen Anne. David, however sorely tempted, declined to save his neck on such terms. Thereupon, the sheriff ordered the cart to drive on; but even this move towards leaving Lindsay suspended did not shake his stout spirit. All this time the sheriff had a reprieve for the unnecessarily tortured fellow in his pocket. Before the cart was fairly from under Lindsay’s feet, it was stopped, or he would have been murdered. The mob beheld the unusual sight of a man, brought to Tyburn to be hanged, returning, eastward ho, alive! Whether it had not been as well for him to have gone through with it while he was about it, is a nice question. In such case his suffering would have been quickly ended; whereas, he was closely confined, and nearly starved, in the most loathsome of the Newgate holes; and at the end of three or four years was condemned to perpetual banishment from the English dominions. Lindsay found means to reach Holland, where all other means failed him. He died there of hunger and exposure, but the fidelity of the poor Jacobite was remembered in Newgate; and equally unfortunate Jacobites declared they would be as true as David Lindsay.
On the day after the burst from Newgate, the trials of the Jacobite rebels, of gentle, and of lower, degree, formed a rare show for the Londoners. On the 5th of May, seven coaches, carrying prisoners and armed messengers within, and surrounded by armed guards, set out in procession from Newgate to Westminster. The streets were thronged to see them pass. Sympathisers and opponents in the crowd got up fights in support of their respective opinions. The former cheered lustily. The populace were at the very height of their enjoyment, when the procession was suddenly stopped. It then turned and began to retrace its steps; finally, it became known that the judges at Westminster, flurried at the escape of so many prisoners the night before, had postponed arraignments and trials till the 7th, and had sent messengers with orders for the return of the dismal array to the place from whence it had come.
TRIALS OF REBEL OFFICERS.
On Monday the 7th were to have been arraigned at the Exchequer Bar, at Westminster, the Brigadier Mackintosh, Richard Gascogne, Henry Oxburgh, Alexander Menzies, and John Robertson. The brigadier having otherwise disposed of himself, Gascogne, said to be six feet eight in height, was put to the bar. Gascogne pleaded for more time, ‘very modestly,’ in order to find an important witness. This was allowed, but the chief judge expressed an opinion that applications for putting off trials were often made with a view of escaping altogether, if possible; and that the gaolers had better look more sharply after their prisoners. Fourteen other prisoners were arraigned;[6] they pleaded ‘Not Guilty,’ and Henry Oxburgh was subsequently put upon trial for his life.
Short work was made with some of the accused Jacobites, or these made short work with the judges. Charles Radcliffe, for instance, when brought up for trial, declined to plead, and was returned Guilty. Later, the streets were crowded to see the procession of half a dozen coaches, containing Mr. Radcliffe and eleven others, to Westminster, where the convicted dozen were condemned to death.
COLONEL OXBURGH.
The trials bore a grim similitude to each other. That of Colonel Oxburgh was as grim as any that followed. King’s Counsel denounced rebellion, in general. King’s evidence, like knave Patten and his fellow knave, Quarter-Master Calderwood, denounced this rebel, in particular. They swore to his presence and great activity on the rebel side, to which both rascals had belonged, at Preston. There was no gainsaying it. Oxburgh’s counsel took exception to his name which, falsely spelt in the indictment as Oxborough, rendered it invalid. This catching at a straw was of no avail. They then protested that he was never in arms. He wore a sword? Yes, every gentleman wore a sword! What then? Besides he had surrendered upon hopes of mercy. These and other throwings out of matters of little use to a drowning man, could not rescue their gentleman-like client. The judge was brief. The jury were briefer. Speech and reflection were quickly over. Oxburgh was found Guilty, and the judge pronounced the disgusting sentence, hanging, disembowelling, and quartering, without sparing a word of it. Colonel Oxburgh stood calm; he was a little pale, but he turned from the jury with the air of a gentleman, as the gaoler beckoned him away, to his approaching fate.
THE COLONEL AT TYBURN.
A few days after, on Monday, the 14th of May, Colonel Oxburgh was executed at Tyburn. From the time he was sentenced till he died, the gallant soldier behaved with unostentatious bravery. ‘To give the Colonel his Due,’ says the ‘Mercurius Politicus,’ against which no charge of sympathy will lie, ‘his Behaviour was very composed, and though decently Bold, yet very Serious and Religious in his Way. It is reported,’ adds ‘Mercurius,’ ‘that he fasted the day before his execution, and that all the prisoners who were Romans did the like for him; and then sent him word, they would come and visit him, if he pleased; but he thanked them, and declined it, desiring to be alone in his preparations. He was drawn in a sledge, with a book in his hand, on which he fixed his eyes, without once looking up till he came to the place of execution. When he was in the Cart, he applied himself immediately to his private devotions; and afterwards delivered the following paper to the Sheriff.’
The paper here alluded to abounded in sentiments of charity. The writer died ‘a member of the Holy Roman Catholic Church,’ in charity with all men, including those who had brought him to this death, for whom he desired the blessings that he himself had missed. Oxburgh solemnly declared that his allegiance to James III. was not paid to that prince as a Catholic, but as his legitimate sovereign. It would have been rendered as unreservedly had James been a Protestant. He then expressed, without bitterness, his disappointment that England should be, as he believed, ‘the only country where prisoners at discretion are not understood to have their lives saved.’ Finally, he prayed for unity and happiness among Englishmen, whose only objects, he trusted, would soon be, the glory of God and the true interests of the nation.