Part 37

with this request; but eventually she consented to an appointment in Kildare-street. She accordingly repaired to the spot; but it proved wet, and for shelter they entered a cottage which presented itself to them in a walk which they took. They remained there during two or three hours; and in the course of that time the prisoner disclosed to her his object in requesting her to meet him, which was to ask her hand in marriage. Her answer to him was that she should be very happy, provided he could obtain her father's consent; but added, that if money was his object, he would be disappointed, as her father had a large family, and could not give her any considerable portion. He declared that he had no such sordid motive in view in making the offer which he presented to her, and that if he succeeded in gaining her affections with her hand, he should consider himself supremely happy, for he had money enough to support them both, and had besides very considerable expectations from his uncle. Before they quitted the cottage, he kissed her twice; and as they drove away in a carriage, which he had sent for in consequence of the rain, he pressed her to marry him privately, as he was sure that her father would never consent to their union. The carriage drove on as Miss Frizell believed in the direction of Molesworth-street, but presently it stopped at a house in Capel-street; and at the earnest solicitation of the prisoner, the young lady alighted to take some refreshment, receiving an assurance that she should immediately afterwards be conveyed home. She entered a house with the prisoner, and they were shewn into a back apartment by a young man, who was directed to bring some fish. They sat together for a time, and then Dillon left the room. He was away for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour; but on his return he said, that the evening was fine, and she could walk home. As she had taken no punch, however, he insisted that she should have a little warm wine and water; and some was almost immediately brought by the waiter. Dillon then placed the glass to her lips, and held her head until she had swallowed full half the contents of the glass. She directly felt stupified and faint, and became quite unconscious of what subsequently passed, until she found herself at night, undressed, and lying on a bed by the side of the prisoner, in a room above that in which they had been sitting. Frantic with terror, she sprang from the bed, and in her hurry rushed against the wall instead of going through the door. The prisoner ran after her, and seized her round the waist, saying it was all over then, and she might as well be quiet; but she screamed aloud. He dragged her away from the door with great violence, cursing and swearing at her all the time, and again threw her on the bed, where he completed an outrage, which, there was no doubt was a repetition only of an act of violence of which he had before been guilty. He put his hand upon her mouth to prevent her screaming, and swore to God that he would marry her the next morning. He, however, again repeated his violence, and detained her in bed until daylight, when he allowed her to rise; and she ultimately left the house with him, under a promise that he would take her to Mr. Kenrick, the priest, and marry her. This promise, however, he did not fulfil, and she returned alone to Mrs. O'Reardon's house. She told Mrs. O'Reardon that she was married; but acquainted her also with the violence which had been used, and that lady fainted, and subsequently she also communicated what had passed to other persons. The prisoner never kept his promise to marry her, and she had never seen him until that day in court since the transaction, the circumstances of which she had just related.

The witness was cross-examined at great length by Mr. Serjeant O'Loughlen, in the course of which she admitted having written a letter, of which the following is a copy, the day after the atrocities described in her evidence in chief:--

"My dearest Dillon--Our car came in to-day. Fortunately papa did not come with it. I was wishing to see you, so I went to Home's, but you were out. I cannot tell you what torture I have been in since I parted with you. You may imagine I am nothing better; you may guess the rest. If you value my life--my honour; everything depends upon you. I have thought of something that will, I think, do. I will see you to-morrow. When I see you I will----. I was obliged to tell Maria (Mrs. O'Reardon) we were married. She is exceedingly ill. The Doctor thinks I was at a lady's in Gardiner-street, a Mrs. Dwyer's. He went to Mrs. Callaghan's himself, so I could not say I was there. For God's sake, meet me to-morrow, about twelve o'clock, at the end of the street, in Dawson-street, and I will, at least, be a little happier, for I am miserable now. Buy me a ring, and, for Heaven's sake, arrange everything. Recollect _who you had_ (these words were scratched out) I am not to be trifled with. I am sure papa would blow my brains out were he to know it. I, therefore, rely on your solemn promise last night; and, once more, be punctual to the hour to-morrow. Really, I am almost dead with grief. Indeed, my dearest Dillon, on you depends my future happiness for life.

Yours, "ANNA."

"Saturday night.

"Luke Dillon, Esq., Home's Hotel, Usher's-island."

In her further cross-examination, she affirmed she wrote to him in these affectionate terms because Mrs. O'Reardon told her, that if she called him a villain or a wretch, he would never come back to her; and that she wrote the letter for the purpose of bringing him back. After she had been under examination and cross-examination upwards of five hours, her mother, Mrs. Frizell, and Mrs. O'Reardon, were examined, and they corroborated her testimony as far as they had any knowledge of the facts.

For the defence, several persons from the hotel or house where the affair took place stated that the lady was a consenting party, and that no outrage had been committed.--In their cross-examination, however, they prevaricated a good deal, and acknowledged visiting the prisoner in Newgate.

Judge Torrens charged the jury in a luminous speech, who, after one hour and three quarters' deliberation, returned a verdict of Guilty, but strongly recommended the prisoner to mercy on account of his youth.

On the next day he was brought up for judgment, when, in answer why sentence of death should not be passed on him, he replied, in a low, but rather firm voice, that standing in the awful situation in which he did, it was not for him to arraign the verdict of twelve men on their oaths, and he should, therefore, bow with submission to the sentence of the court.--Judge Torrens then, in an impressive manner, observed, that after a most anxious consideration of his case, the recommendation of the jury could not be attended to. His lordship, in a tremulous accent, pronounced the awful sentence of the law, fixing Saturday, the 7th of May, for his execution.

The most strenuous exertions were made to save the life of this unhappy but most guilty culprit; and petitions signed by many persons of the highest respectability were forwarded to the crown in his favour. The recommendation of the jury was also most strongly represented, and as it was said that even the friends of the young lady herself were unwilling that he should expiate the foul crime of which he had been convicted on the scaffold, a reprieve was granted, and his punishment was eventually commuted to transportation for life.

The wretched young man was eventually transmitted to Sydney with other convicts; but here his fortune and the respectability of his connexions enabled him to obtain privileges not usually granted to persons in his situation. He was of an excellent family in the county of Roscommon, and by the death of some of his relations came into a handsome fortune. Money, in the colony in which he was compelled to reside, would obtain for him every luxury which he could desire; and from recent accounts received from that place, it appears that he was among the gayest of the gay of that extraordinary society.

We have but one other fact to add to our recital of this most distressing case. The unhappy object of Dillon's machinations and brutal crime died in the month of June 1831, a victim to her own sensitive feelings. She had gone to Bangor, in Wales, in hope that a change of

## scene might relieve her of the melancholy which appeared to have settled

upon her mind, but she died there of a broken heart.

JOHN TAYLOR, AND THOMAS MARTIN.

IMPRISONED FOR BODY STEALING.

The peculiarity of the defence of these men, and the extraordinary nature of the proceedings in the court upon their trial, induce us to give their case a place in our Calendar.

They were indicted at the London sessions on Thursday, the 21st of April, 1831, for having stolen the body of an old man named Gardiner from St. Bartholomew's Hospital. Taylor was recognised as a notorious "body-snatcher," or resurrectionist, and Martin was an undertaker.

Taylor had taken the old man, who had a spinal disease, to the hospital. In a very short time the patient sunk under the complaint, and Taylor contrived to get possession of the body by a manoeuvre, and assured the daughter of the deceased that her father had been ordered to be buried quickly, on account of the mortification which had taken place. Martin accompanied Taylor on making application for the body at the hospital, and gave a wrong name and address. It was soon discovered by the daughter that the body of her father had been removed, and the two prisoners were taken into custody.

Taylor defended himself in the (literally) following manner:--"You see, please you, my lord, I sees the poor old gentleman walking in Fleet-lane, wery bad; and so, says he, 'Jack, I feels queerish, and I don't suppose as how I'll get over this here caper.' So, you see, I takes him into a public-house and gives him half a pint of beer quite warm, and a pipe of backy, and so he stays there till six or seven o'clock; and then, says he, 'Jack, you must get me a place for to lay upon;' but they wouldn't have him in no house whatsomdever; for, please you, my lord, he warn't without warmint. (Laughter.) Well, then, my lord, you see he gets worse, and he axed me to take him to the hospital; and didn't I take him?"

Alderman Winchester: "Yes, and you took him away from it too." (Laughter.)

Taylor: "Well, my lord, you see, when I sees him snug and comfortable in the bed, I goes off to his daughter, and I told she, and she warn't by no means bevaricated at it; but she said she was obligated to me for my civility and my humanity, you see, for taking care of the poor old creatur wot was so wery bad. And so the old gentleman wanted a shirt wery bad, and I goes to his daughter, and I gets one with a frill to it, and I puts it on him; and so his daughter suddenly turns against me, and she gives me in charge, though I was so kind, for stealing the shirt; and I'm blest if they didn't try me for it at the Old Bailey." (A laugh.)

Serjeant Arabin: "I know they did, for I tried you for the robbery." (Loud laughter.)

Taylor: "Please you, my lord, I think you was my judge. Well, you see, my lord, they couldn't do nothing with me."

Serjeant Arabin: "Come, to the point."

Taylor: "Well, my lord, I'll come soon enough. (Loud laughter.) So you see, she says to me, 'Jack,' says she, 'I'll go to see the old gentleman the next day morning to the hospital, for I believe he's poorly;' and please you, my lord, when she goes there she couldn't find nobody at all, for the body warn't there, because as how some body tuck it away." (Roars of laughter.)

Serjeant Arabin: "No doubt of it; you took it away, and can you prove where 'tis buried?"

Taylor: "Why you see, my lord, I suppose it's in the ground, for what else would you do with it? Ven the breath goes avay from us, there's no use in going further, for then there's an end of the caper. (Excessive laughter, in which the court joined.) Vell, my lord, I never seed the body arterwards; and then they comes up to me, and they charges me with robbing it. But please you, my lord, what could I do with it if I had it? It an't like the body of a cow, or a sheep; and you don't think I'm sich a feller as would do what the black beggars does with the people wot they kills." (Loud laughter.)

The jury told Serjeant Arabin that it was unnecessary to sum up, and found the prisoners Guilty.

Taylor was sentenced to imprisonment for nine months, and Martin to imprisonment for three months.

IKEY _alias_ ISAAC SOLOMON.

TRANSPORTED FOR RECEIVING STOLEN GOODS.

There are few offenders whose name and whose character are more universally known than Ikey Solomon; but there are few also with regard to whom more certain information cannot be obtained. The following brief

## particulars, we believe, are correct; but the difficulty of procuring

positive knowledge upon the subject must prove an excuse for the shortness of our memoir.

Solomon was born in the neighbourhood of Petticoat-lane in the year 1785, of poor parents, who, as their name imports, were of the Jewish persuasion. At an early age young Ikey was compelled to exert himself to procure his own living; for it is a custom which exists among the poorer classes of the Jews, that every child shall be early instructed in habits of industry. At the age of eight years, therefore, he was despatched into the streets with a supply of oranges and lemons, which constituted his first stock in trade. The profits of his business as a fruiterer were not deemed by the young Jew a sufficient remuneration for his labours, and the profession of a _sham ringer_, as it was technically termed, or of a passer of base coin, was added by him to that which he openly carried on, and his youth served him materially in enabling him to escape detection.

At the age of fourteen years, he had acquired considerable knowledge of the general habits of thieves, and he is reported to have practised picking pockets, when opportunity offered, with great success. As he grew older, however, his person and his proceedings became known, and, apprehending that some unpleasant consequences might arise from his carrying on so dangerous a profession, he determined to quit it, and to join a gang engaged in one no less enterprising, but attended with less cause of fear--that of duffing. By this means he obtained a wide connexion, while the sums which he realised amply repaid him for the change which he had made in his mode of life. The business of a fence, or receiver of stolen goods, in which afterwards he became so notorious, appears, even at this early period of his life, to have struck his fancy; and although the extent of his trade was limited, by reason of his want of the necessary capital to carry it on, his purchases being confined to the produce of the robberies of area sneaks and young pickpockets, he acquired much celebrity amongst his fellows in the same business.

After some time, from some unexplained cause, he quitted this mode of life, and joined a gang of thieves associated at the west end of the town. Always avaricious, he was guilty of unfair play even among his "pals," and the old adage of "honour among thieves" was set at nought by him in his division of the spoil which he obtained in the course of his daily exertions. For this breach of good faith he was expelled the community, and he determined upon making an effort in his own behalf--single-handed. His good fortune now forsook him, and, after a very short practice, he was taken into custody for stealing a "dumby," or pocket-book. This was the first occasion on which he had any reason to fear the consequences of his numerous thefts. In the city, according to his own account, he had been frequently in custody, but had escaped by feeing the officers! but his apprehension having now taken place in "the county," as it is usually denominated, or beyond the city bounds, he knew that he stood little chance of escaping by such means.

For this offence he was tried at the Old Bailey in the year 1807, being then twenty-two years of age; and a conviction having followed, he was sentenced to transportation for life. He was removed to the hulks at Chatham, preparatory to his being sent to one of our penal colonies, but, by good luck, was permitted to remain in England, in the hope that he might reform. His uncle, it appears, was a slop-seller at this port, where he carried on a considerable, and, it was believed, a respectable trade. Through his instrumentality his nephew was retained in his native country; and, after six years, the fortunate Ikey obtained a pardon. A circumstance occurred, however, in reference to this event, which is worthy of notice. Ikey was not the only person of the same name who had been guilty of an offence against the laws of _meum et tuum_, confined on board the same hulk. His equally unfortunate namesake, in the year 1813, by the exercise of influence, succeeded in obtaining a remission of his sentence, and a pardon and order for his discharge were sent down to Chatham. By an error, either of accident or design, but which it was we have no means of deciding, our hero was discharged instead of the person really intended. His surprise and gratitude at this unexpected favour induced him, on his return to London, to proceed to the Home Office to express his thanks for his liberation; but here, to his dismay, he was informed that there was some mistake--that he was not the person intended to be pardoned, and that he must return to his ship. He had prudence enough to do that at once, which he knew he would be compelled to do eventually; but the circumstance operated so much in his favour, that in three months afterwards a genuine pardon in his name was received, which once again sent him to perform his part upon the stage of life.

His first employment was to all appearance an honest one. He was engaged by his uncle at Chatham as a barker, or salesman; and, in the course of a couple of years, he realised a sum of 150_l._, with which he determined to start in business for himself. He therefore proceeded to London, and in a short time we find him possessed of a house and shop in Bell-alley, Winfield-street. He lost no time in renewing his acquaintance with some of his former associates, and he found that many of them, who had escaped the fangs of the police so long, had now become expert thieves, or experienced housebreakers. His old trade of a "fence" appeared to him the most profitable, and, at the same time, the best in every other respect, in which he could embark, and his desire to deal in stolen goods was soon circulated among his connexions. For this business his general knowledge admirably adapted him, and he speedily obtained as much business as his small capital would enable him to get through. As every transaction, however, increased his means, so his sphere of action became more extended, and ere long he was engaged fully in every species of business which came within the usual course of persons engaged in the same profession. Forged notes, or "queer screens," as they were called, afforded him means of speculation, which produced the most profitable results; but the danger of carrying on this branch of his trade, arising from the vigilance of the officers employed by the Bank of England for its suppression, at length determined him to give it up, and to confine his operations to that which he looked upon as a safer game, the purchase and disposal of the produce of the robberies of his friends.

In this line he was probably one of the most successful in London. Every year afforded him new opportunities of extending his connexion, and the profits which he obtained were enormous. His house was looked upon as the universal resort of almost all the thieves of the metropolis; but so cautiously and so cunningly did he manage his transactions, as to render every effort of the police to procure evidence of his guilt unavailing. His purchases were, for the most part, confined to small articles, such as jewellery, plate, &c., and in his house, under his bed, he had a receptacle for them, closed by a trap-door, so nicely fitted, that it escaped every examination which was made. In the space between the flooring and the ceiling of the lower room, there were abundant means to conceal an extent of valuable property which was quite astonishing.

Solomon's trade was now at its height, and he found that one house would be insufficient to contain all his property. He had been married some years before to a person of the same persuasion with himself; but it appears that constancy was not one of the virtues of which he was able to boast. It suggested itself to him, therefore, that while a second house would enable him to secrete a considerable quantity of additional property, he might also hide there from his wife a new object, to whom his affections had united him. With these double views, he took a house in Lower Queen-street, Islington (unknown to his own family), in which he followed out the plan which he had laid down for his guidance. The lady and the valuables were placed in it.

At about this period, however, a very extensive robbery of watches and jewellery took place in Cheapside, in which there is no doubt Solomon

## participated, in the character of receiver. The excitement produced by

the occurrence raised considerable alarm in his mind lest he should be discovered and apprehended, and he determined on a trip to Birmingham, in order that the affair might blow over. During his absence, his wife, whose jealous animosity had been excited by his frequent absence from home, discovered his Islington retreat, and her anger, as may be supposed, was not expressed to him in the gentlest or most becoming way upon his return.