“The monumental inscription on a tombstone erected over the grave of Mr. William Allen, junior, in the churchyard of St. Mary Newington, Surrey. ‘Sacred to the memory of William Allen, an Englishman of unspotted life and amiable disposition, who was inhumanly murdered near St. George’s Fields, the 10th day of May, 1768, by Scottish detachments from the army.’
“’Twas Grafton plann’d the horrors of that day;
’Twas Weymouth urg’d th’ enforcing his commands;
’Twas Barrington that gave th’ exciting pay,
The price of blood flow’d through his guilty hands.”
The Duke of Grafton was first lord of the treasury. Viscount Weymouth, afterwards Marquis of Bath, was one of the secretaries of state; he had urged the advisability of calling out military aid to strengthen the civil authority. Viscount Barrington was secretary at war. He had thought proper to convey to the field-officer in command of the Foot Guards the royal approval of the men’s behaviour.
“WILKES AND LIBERTY” RIOTS. THE SCOTCH VICTORY. MURDER OF ALLEN BY A GRENADIER. MASSACRE OF ST. GEORGE’S FIELDS. 1768.
[Page 174.
He begged “that they may be assured that every possible regard shall be shown to them in return for their zeal and good conduct on this occasion,” “and in case any disagreeable circumstance should happen in the execution of their duty, they shall have every defence and protection that the law authorities, and this Office (the War) can give.”
Justice Gillam, who was the first to give the order to the third regiment of Guards to fire on the people, was tried for the murder of Redburn, a weaver; the judges acquitted him of all responsibility, and complimented him on the humane manner in which he had exercised his authority. Sergeant Glynn, Wilkes’s friend and adviser, was for the prosecution. In the course of the evidence it appeared that there had been assembled in St. George’s Fields a disorderly concourse, where, after shouting “Wilkes and Liberty,” they made an attack on the King’s Bench Prison, threw stones into the marshal’s house, and at length burst open the outward gate of the prison, to the terror of the keepers, who not only feared for the security of their prisoners, but imagined their own lives were endangered; notwithstanding their apprehensions, the keepers guarded the inner gates from the mob, so that the rioters dispersed without effecting their purpose.
The marshal, anticipating another attack the day following, applied to the magistrates for assistance, as shown in the foregoing. On the 10th of May, a larger mob assembled, repeating the cry of “Wilkes and Liberty;” whereupon the magistrates began to expostulate with them. The Riot Act was then read, and its intentions endeavoured to be explained. The rabble hissed and hooted the soldiers, who endeavoured to scatter them. At last, a stone struck Justice Gillam, and he ordered the firing, though, as far as could be proved, there existed no absolute necessity for this extreme measure. Gillam, who was exhibited to ridicule as “Midas, the Surrey justice,” appears to have been most unpopular, if not altogether unfit for the responsible position in which he was placed; “the note sent to a bookseller by a magistrate” is attributed to this hero: “Sir, Send me the ax Re Latin to a Gustus of Pease.” On his trial, James Derbyshire, a bookseller, deposed that Mr. Gillam said publicly in the hearing of the soldiers, “that his orders from the ministry were, that some men must be killed, and that it were better to kill five and twenty to-day than one hundred to-morrow.” According to the Rev. John Horne (afterwards Tooke, and known to fame as the “Brentford Parson”), who was present at the riot, it was he who procured the warrant for the arrest of the soldiers. The trial did not take place until the 9th of August. Witnesses appeared against Donald Maclury, who was charged with firing the fatal shot; it was Maclury (or M’Laury) who said “Damn him, that’s him, shoot him.” Mr. Allen’s ostler declared that when Allen fell, after the prisoner had fired, Maclury said, “Damn it, it is a good shot.” On his way to gaol, the day after the murder, it was proved Maclury acknowledged “that what they had done was in consequence of orders, and he hoped they should obtain mercy.” The defence was that MacLaughlin, a grenadier, acknowledged to Mr. Gillam and six soldiers that it was he who shot Allen, and that his piece went off by accident. He had since deserted, and, it was openly stated in the papers, received one shilling a day to keep out of the way. The verdict was “not guilty;” and it was admitted that, in order to save the life of the soldier, who was liable for murder, it had “been found necessary to suffer the prosecutors to persist in their mistake in apprehending and impeaching an innocent man, and in the mean time giving the grenadier who actually fired the gun an opportunity to escape.” Both soldiers were charged at the King’s Bench, when, by arrangement, the guilty man was admitted to bail, to be smuggled out of harm’s way; “the other was remanded back to prison as the person who actually shot the lad,” according to the proceedings, May 16, 1768.
Another version of the “Scotch Victory,” with the rebus of the jack-boot standing under a petticoat, and enclosed by Scotch thistles, forms part of a mock dedication: “To the Earl of (Bute), Protector of our Liberties, this plate is humbly inscribed by F. Junius Brutus.”