The Chief Justice.—After having drawn your attention to the propriety of consulting your counsel, you will now do what you think best.
Ings, addressing himself to the Jury, spoke as follows:
“Gentlemen of the Jury, I am a man of no education and very humble abilities. If you will hear me with patience, I will not detain you long. I lived in Portsea. I came to London in the beginning of May, 1819. I came with my wife and family. The reason I left Portsmouth was, that I was unable to get employ to support my family (here the prisoner seemed affected by his feelings.) When I came to London I thought I could get employ, but I was for a considerable time, and could get nothing to do. Knowing nobody I suppose was the reason. I had a few pounds with me when I came from Portsea. Finding my money going I did not know what to do. It did not go by drinking or gambling.
“I determined to get into business, and I went up to Baker’s-row, where I set up a butcher’s shop. I stopped there three months, from Midsummer to Michaelmas; the summer being hot was against me; I lost a considerable deal of money in the course of the summer; I then took a house in Old Montague-street, which I opened as a coffee-shop; in fitting up the shop my money was all gone; I did not take money enough to support my family. I now persuaded my wife to return to Portsea among her friends, where I thought she would be better than with me in London.
“After my wife had left me some considerable time, there was a man who used to come and take a cup of coffee at my shop. I had never nothing to do with politics; but he began to speak about the Manchester massacre. I said very little; I always took him to be an officer. He came frequently before I left the house.
“Some time after I met him in Smithfield. I went there to see if I could get any employ. He asked me how I did; and I said very well. He said, he had been often to my house, and asked me to stand treat. I said it was not in my power, and my reason was, that I had no money; I added that I should be obliged to sell my things. He asked me what things I had to sell, and I told him various articles. He agreed to buy a sofa bedstead.
“I then went to live in Primrose-street. This was in January last. A few days after, I met him in Fleet-market. He asked me where we could have something to drink; and respecting the sofa bedstead, he said he thought he had a friend that would buy it. I took him to my house, but we could not agree. We came back to Fleet-street; he then told me there was something going to be done. I asked him what it was, and he said no good man would want to know what was to be done before it was begun. We went directly and had some bread and cheese. He took me to the White Hart, where I saw a few of my fellow-prisoners. I asked who he was. I understood his name was Williams; but I since know that it was Edwards. He told me that it was he made Thomas Paine (the statue of Paine) at Mr. Carlisle’s; and it was the same man that did make it. He afterwards took me to another room where I got refreshment.
“I did not know the particulars of any thing that was going to be done. I was a stranger, and went for food. That very day he brought me a sword to get ground for him, which I took to the cutler’s in my own name; and do you think, gentlemen, if I knew that any thing was going on, that I would have left it in my own name? I often went to the man afterwards, for I had no friends. On the 23d of February, he came to me at my lodging, in Primrose-street, for my landlord charged me nothing for my lodging, and says, ‘There’s something a going to be done; do you come up to the alley opposite Mrs. Carlisle’s; about six o’clock, I shall meet you there.’ I went from there up to the room. I was there all day, and I got some bread and cheese.
“At six I went to Fleet-street. He was standing in the alley. I understand since, from the list of witnesses, that he lives in that alley. He told me to wait, which I did, for an hour. He then came and gave me a couple of bags and a belt, and asked me to come to the room in Fox-court. On my going there he told me that he was going to put some gin in the bags; and that it was to be got on the sly. That was the sole reason that I put the bags under my coat, lest the patrol should see them. I went with him up to St. Giles’s, where he said we were to get the gin. When we got there, he told me it was not there. We went up to Oxford-street, where he said a friend lived. He left me and I waited for him an hour. He then took me up to John-street, I believe it was, for I never was there before, to the stable. He told me I would see some friends there; he then left me.
“When I came under the archway, I saw Davidson; Davidson took me into the stable. I never was up in the loft. I declare positively, before God, I was not in the stable more than five minutes when the officers came in: there was only me there. Mr. Ruthven, then, or somebody with carroty whiskers, and another, went up the ladder into the loft, and a third man came in, collared me, and said, “You are my prisoner.” Very well, I says. Soon after he collared me, he began beating me with his staff till my head swelled most dreadfully. In the mean time I heard a gun or pistol go off in the loft.