Although such an escape was a physical impossibility to Fauntleroy, there is a rational explanation of the strange superstition—referred to in this book—that he did not die on the scaffold, but was resuscitated, and lived abroad for many years. At eight o’clock on the evening of his death the body was taken by the undertakers, Gale and Barnard, to their premises opposite Newgate prison, where the coffin was fastened down immediately by order of the relatives, who had reason to fear that the morbid—attracted by the notoriety of the criminal—would seek by means of a bribe to view the remains. The flames of rumour are set ablaze by a tiny spark, and the fact that no one outside the prison saw the dead body of the forger may have revived popular faith in a favourite belief. The haste, too, in sealing up the shell may have excited suspicion. For in later days it is certain that many persons cherished the idea that Fauntleroy, more lucky than Jack Sheppard or Dr Dodd, whose friends tried in vain to restore them to life, had survived his execution. Vide also Notes and Queries, First Series, viii. 270, ix. 445, x. 114, 233. Possibly that prince of inkslingers, G. W. M. Reynolds, may have had the Fauntleroy legend in his mind when he drew the picture of the resuscitated forger in the first part of his obscene and scurrilous romance, The Mysteries of the Court of London. Fauntleroy was buried in the cemetery at Bunhill Fields on Thursday, Dec. 2.

Note IV.—Old Stories Retold. By George Walter Thornbury (1867), p. 290.

Mr Walter Thornbury makes a brave and ingenious attempt to explain “the mystery still shrouding the great Fauntleroy swindle,” and “to conjecture for what purpose the dishonest banker preserved in a private box so carefully a suicidal statement of his own misdoings.” His conclusion is that Fauntleroy invented the lie so it should not be thought that he had been influenced by motives of greed, but that as time went on he began actually to credit the untruth, and, treasuring the paper for conscience’ sake, was for years “buoyed up by the secret excuse of an absurd and illogical revenge.” It is only a want of lucidity that prevented Mr Thornbury from unshrouding the mystery, for the explanation—the key of which he held in his hand—is a simple one. There was method in Fauntleroy’s seeming madness. The document found in his private box, which gave a list of his forgeries, and contained the footnote explaining that his motive was revenge against the Bank, was dated May 7, 1816. It is notorious that never in her history was the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street so unpopular as at this time. For nearly twenty years she had borne the odium caused by the suspension of cash payments, and by the alarming depreciation of paper money. In like manner, the panic which overthrew so many provincial houses in 1814, 1815, and 1816 was ascribed to her envied monopoly; and her consequent prosperity, owing to the demand for Bank of England notes, helped to increase the widespread jealousy. Never had forger a more splendid shield than Henry Fauntleroy. Although he had hoped and believed that the proceeds of his first frauds would enable his firm to weather the financial storm, yet if Nemesis should overtake him before he had struggled through the slough, he was justified in supposing that the Board of Directors might hesitate to prosecute a man who would be hailed as a popular champion. Indeed, had his crime been as paltry as that of Henry Savary, it is quite probable that the public would have regarded him as an intrepid enemy of the Bank’s monopoly, and that a like storm which compelled the financial legislation of 1819 and 1825 might have saved him from the scaffold. Fate compelled him to overreach himself, or the crafty story of revenge might have been believed.

Note V.—The History of the Catnach Press. By Charles Hindley (1886), p. 73.

But for the indefatigable researches of this author we should know little of the immortal Jemmy, who, it must be remembered, was the Alfred Harmsworth of his day.

Note VI.—Dic. Nat. Biog.

Like Pierce Egan and Charles Hindley, the writer of this monograph states that Fauntleroy was convicted for a fraud upon his sister-in-law, which is the more remarkable as The Times is cited as an authority. The name of the forger’s father was not Henry, but William; the arrest was made on September 10, not September 11; the warrant of commitment charged him with embezzling, not a thousand, but ten thousand pounds; the Berners Street Bank was not founded in 1782, but ten years later; the value of Miss Young’s stock was £5450; and Fauntleroy was committed for trial on October 19. There does not appear to be any authority for the assertion that the fraudulent transfers first began in 1815, and it would be more correct to say that Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company announced the suspension of payment on September 13.

Note VII.—History of the Bank of England. By John Francis (1847). Vol. i. pp. 339-345.

The author of this work, relying upon the evidence of J. H. Palmer before a Committee of the House of Commons in 1832, estimates the loss of the Bank of England through the Fauntleroy forgeries at £360,000. Although these figures were correct at the time when the Governor made his statement, the Bank received £95,000 from Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company during September 1835, in full discharge of their debt.[1] Thus, as the gross loss to the Bank, according to John Horsley Palmer, was £360,214, the actual loss appears to have been reduced to £265,214.

Note VIII.—For particulars of the Berners Street Bankruptcy consult the following:—