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You have been told that after the battle, I boasted of my inhumanity to a vanquished, Fielding, wounded enemy---that I made a wanton sacrifice of my bleeding and supplicating foe, by striking him to the earth with my cowardly steel; and that, after this deed of blood, I coldly sat down to plunder my unhappy victim. Nay, more---that with folly indescribable and incredible, I boasted of my barbarity as of a victory. Is there an English officer, is there an English soldier, or an English man, whose heart would not have revolted with hatred against such baseness and folly? Far better, gentlemen, would it have been for me, rather than have seen this day, to have fallen with my honour able companions, stemming and opposing the tide of battle upon the field of my country's glory. Then my father and my family, though they would have mourned my loss, would have blessed my name, and shame would not have rolled its burning fires over my memory !-----Before I recur to the evidence brought against my life, I wish to return my most sincere thanks to the High Sheriff and the Magistrates for their kindness shown to me. I cannot but express my unfeigned regret at a slight misunderstanding which has occurred between the Rev. Mr. Lloyd, the visiting magistrate, and my solic itor. as it was nothing more than a misunderstanding, I trust the bonds of friendship are again ratified between us all. My most particular gratitude is due to the Rev. Mr. Franklin, whose kind visits and pious consolations have inspired me with a deeper sense of the awful truths of religion, and have trebly armed my breast with fortitude to serve me on this day. Though last, not least ---let me not forget Mr. Wilson, the governor of the prison, and the fatherly treatment which he has shown me throughout. My memory must perish ere I can forget his kindness. My heart must be cold ere it can cease to beat with gratitude to him, and wishes for the prosperity of his family."

Here the prisoner read a long written comment on the weaker parts of the evidence ;---the stronger and indeed the decisive parts he left untouched. This paper was either so ill-written, or Thurtell was so imperfect a reader, that the effect was quite fatal to the previous flowery appeal to the Jury. He stammered, blundered, and seemed confused throughout; until he came to the Percy Anecdotes, from which he preached some very tedious instances of the fallibility of circumstantial evidence.---When he finished his books and laid aside the paper, he seemed to return with joy and strength to his memory,--and to muster up all his might for the peroration.--

"And now, gentlemen, having read those cases to you, am not I justified in saying, that unless you are thoroughly convinced that the circumstances before you are absolutely inconsistent with my innocence, I have a claim to your verdict of acquittal? Am I not justified in saying, that you might come to the conclusion that all the circumstances stated might be true, and yet I be innocent? I am sure, gentlemen, you will banish from your minds any prejudice which may have been excited against me, and act upon the principle that every man is to be

deemed innocent until he is proved guilty. Judge of my case, gentlemen, with mature consideration, and remember that my existence depends upon your breath. If you bring in a verdict of guilty, the law afterwards allows no mercy. If upon a due consideration of all the circumstances you shall have a doubt, the law orders, and your own consciences will teach you to give me the benefit of it. Cut me not off in the summer of my life! I implore you, gentlemen, to give my case your utmost attention. I ask not so much for myself as for those respectable parents whose name I bear, and who must suffer in my fate. I ask it for the sake of that home which will be rendered cheerless and desolate by my death. Gentlemen, 1 am incapable of any dishonourable action. Those who know me best know that I am utterly incapable of an unjust and dishonourable action, much less of the horrid crime with which I am now charged. There is not, I think, one in this court who does not think me innocent of the charge. If there be---to him or them, I say in the language of the Apostle," Would to God ye were altogether such as I am, save these bonds." Gentlemen, I have now done. I look with confi dence to your decision. I repose in your hands all that is dear to the gentleman and the man! I have poured my heart before you as to my God! I hope your verdict this day will be such as you may ever after be able to think upon with a composed conscience: and that you will also reflect upon the solemn declaration which I now make---I ---am---innocent !---So---help---me---GoD !"

The solid, slow, and appalling tone in which he wrong out these last words can never be imagined by those who were not auditors of it: he had worked himself up into a great actor---and his eye for the first time during the trial became alive and eloquent; his attitude was impressive in the extreme. He clung to every separate word with an earnestness, which we cannot describe, as though every syllable had the power to buoy up his sinking life,---and that these were the last sounds that were ever to be sent into the ears of those who were to decree his doom! The final word, GOD! was thrown up with an almost gigantic energy---and he stood after its utterance with his arms extended, his face protruded, and his chest dilated, as if the spell of the sound were yet upon him, and as though he dared not move lest he should disturb the still echoing appeal! He then drew his hands slowly back,---pressed them firmly to his breast, and sat down half exhausted in the dock.

When he first commenced his defence, he spoke in a steady artificial manner, after the style of Forum orators,---but as he warmed in the subject and felt his ground with the jury, he became more unaffectedly earnest and naturally solemn---and his mention of his mother's love and his father's piety drew the tear up to his eyes almost to falling. He paused---and, though pressed by the Judge to rest, to sit down, to desist, he stood up resolute against his feelings, and finally, with one vast gulp, swallowed down his tears! He wrestled with grief, and threw it!

When speaking of Barber Beaumont, the tiger indeed came over him, and his very voice seemed to escape out of his keeping.

There was such a savage vehemence in his whole look and manner, as quite to awe his hearers. With an unfortunate quotation from a play, in which he long had acted too bitterly,--the Revenge! he soothed his maddened heart to quietness, and again resumed his defence, and for a few minutes in a doubly artificial serenity. The tone in which he wished that he had died in battle, reminded me of Kean's farewell to the pomp of war in Othello---and the following consequence of such a death, was as grandly delivered by Thurtell as it was possible to be! "Then my father and my family, though they would have mourned my loss, would have blessed my name and shame would not have rolled its burning fires over my memory!" Such a performance, for a studied performance it assuredly was, has seldom been seen on the stage, and certainly never off. Thus to act in the very teeth of death, demands a nerve, which not one man in a thousand ever possesses.

When Hunt was now called upon for his defence (Thurtell's poor group of five wit nesses having been examined) his feeble voice and shrinking manner were doubly apparent, from the overwrought energy which his companion had manifested. He complained of his agitation and fatigue, and requested that a paper which he held in his hand might be read for him: and the clerk of the arraigns read it according to his request in a very feeling manner. It was prudently and advisedly composed; but Mr. Harmer is no novice at murderers' defences. Reliance was placed on the magistrates' promise, and certainly Mr. Noel did not come brightly out of Hunt's statement.

When the paper was concluded, Hunt read a few words on a part of Probert's evidence, in a poor dejected voice, and then leant his wretched head upon his hand. He was evidently wasting away minute by minute. His neckcloth had got quite loose, and his neck looked gaunt and wretched.

Mr. Justice Park summed up at great length, and Thurtell with an untired spirit saperintended the whole explanation of the evidence; interrupting the Judge, respectfully but firmly, when he apprehended any omission, or conceived any amendment capable of being made. The charge to the Jury occupied several hours---and the Jury then requested leave to withdraw. Hunt at this period became much agitated, and as he saw them about to quit the box, he intreated leave to address them,---but on his counsel learning and communicating to the Judge what the prisoner had to say, the Jury were directed to proceed to the consideration of their verdict.

During their absence, Thurtell conversed unalarmed with persons beneath and around him: Hunt stood up in the deepest misery and weakness. Twenty minutes elapsed; and the return of the Jury was announced! Whilst way was making through the throng, Hunt leant over the dock, and searched with an agonized eye for the faces of his doomsmen! As they, one by one, passed beneath him, he looked at their countenances with the most hungry agony: he would have devoured their verdict from their very eyes! Thurtell maintained his steadiness.

The foreman delivered the verdict of "guilty" in tears, and in a tone which seem

ed to say, "we have felt the defence---we have tried to find him innocent---but the evidence is too true!"---respecting Thurtell, he uttered with a subdued sigh "He is guilty!" A legal objection was taken to the day of trial, but it failed.

Thurtell shook not to the last: Hunt was broken down,--gone! when asked why sentence of death should not be passed; the latter said nothing, so sunk was he in grief; but Thurtell stood respectfully up, inclining over the dock towards the judge, requesting his merciful postponement of his death from the Friday to Monday; not for himself, but for his friends! Having pressed this on the judge in a calm yet impressive tone,---he stood silently waiting his doom. The judge had put on his black hat---the hat of death, before this appeal; he heard it--and then gave the signal to the crier; who spoke out to the breathless court, those formal yet awful words: "Be silent in the court, while sentence of death is passed upon the prisoners !" His own voice being the only sound that broke the silence.

The sentence was passed. The prisoners were doomed. The world was no longer for them!

Hunt sobbed aloud in the wildness of his distress; his faculties seemed thrown down. Thurtell, whose hours were numbered, bore his fate with an unbroken spirit. While the very directions for his body's dissection were being uttered, he consumed the pinch of snuff which had to that moment been pausing in his fingers! He then shook hands with a friend under the dock, and desired to be remembered to others! Almost immediately the sentence was passed. Wilson handcuffed both the prisoners: and in a few minutes they were removed.

I confess I myself was shaken. I was cold and sick. I looked with tumultuous feelings at that desperate man, thus meeting death, as though it were an ordinary circumstance of his life; and when he went through the dark door, he seemed to me gone to his fate. It struck me that death then took him! I never saw him more.

There is the trial, as I saw it. You know that Thurtell on the drop met his death as be met his trial, without a tremor.* His life had been one long vice, but he had iron nerves and a sullen low love of fame,---even black fame,---which stimulated him to be a hero, though but of the gallows. He had learned his defence by heart, and often boasted of the effect it would have: To Pierce Egan, indeed, he rehearsed it a month before he played his part in public, and he thought that, with a gentlemanly dress and a pathetic manner, it would bring him through, or, at least, insure him a gloomy immortality. His ordinary discourse was slang and blasphemy; but he chained up his oaths in court. The result of all this masquerading, for a short time, has been public sorrow for his fate, and particularly among women! The re-action is, however, again coming round,

* I know it to be a fact that Thurtell said about seven hours only before his execution: "It is perbaps wrong in my situation, but I own I should like to read Pierce Egan's account of the Great Fight yesterday," (meaning that between Spring and Langan.) He had just inquired how it terminated.

I have no doubt this defence was written by Mr. C. Pearson.

and although it is impossible not to admire this man's courage and bis intellect; it is also as impossible not to rejoice in the death of so much revenge, cruelty, and bloody power! Hunt may yet be punished with a pardon: How must he envy Thurtell now, whose death is over!

The trial, after all, I believe, has left the public mind much dissatisfied, and in doubt; and certainly the general opinion is, that Probert, the worst and the most dastardly of the gang, has improperly escaped. That he merited death, who can deny? That he knew all at Tetsall's, who disbelieves? I have already carried this letter to an unexampled length, but I cannot close it, without putting down the result of a very careful consideration of, and inquiry into, the matter. And seeing how unsatisfactorily the accounts and confessions before and at the trial dovetail with each other, I cannot resist hazarding a supposition that the following may be nearer the truth of the particulars of this horrible transaction.

Thurtell, with a person resembling Weare, in a gig drawn by a roan horse, is seen by Wilson, the horse patrol, driving fast on the wrong side of the road, between the fifth and sixth mile-stone, about twenty minutes before seven. At a very little before seven, Richard Bingham, the ostler of the White Lion, at Edgeware, sees him and his victim. Then about a mile further on, (nine miles from town) Clarke, the landlord of the inn, sees Thurtell pass with another in a gig, in which was also a parcel or bag. The last time the murderer and Weare are seen, is in Gull's-hill-lane, near Probert's cottage, by James Freeman. They were then waiting, probably for the arrival of Probert and Hunt, but the sight of Freeman disturbed Thurtell, and he drove down the lane to the place where the crime was perpetrated.---This was a little before eight o'clock.

It should seem that the hour appointed for the murder, was eight o'clock; all the circumstances conspire to prove it. This accounts for the rapid pace of Thurtell down the Edgeware road, he supposing himself late; and the waiting about of Probert, who thought himself beforehand. Thurtell passed Probert unawares in Edgeware.

The first time Probert and Hunt are seen, after leaving London, is at the Red Lion at the Flyde about six o'clock, and Probert seems to have wished to impress on the landlord's (Hardings) mind who he was, for he said, "You forget me, my name is Probert.” Hnnt next got down before Probert reached the Bald Faced Stag, where the latter was familiarly known; here Probert told the bostler to make haste as he bad to take up a Lady. They are next recognised at the White Lion at Edgeware about seven o'clock, to which place Clarke had just returned, having seen Thurtell. The horse of Probert, which is a very fine one, and capable of going eleven or twelve miles an hour with ease, was quite cool and fresh. This both Clarke and Bingham well remember. Probert and Hunt drank brandy and water here in the gig, and Hunt then jumped out and proposed a second glass each, to which Probert consented, saying "I don't care, but down it, make haste!" Hunt here looked up

at the clock as though to mark the time: at this period Clarke is sure that it was not later than a quarter past seven. The White Lion is three miles only from the Artichoke at Elstree. And it was nearly twenty minutes after eight when Probert and Hunt arrived there---Probert's fine horse very much distressed and bathed in sweat. Thus one hour is consumed in going the three miles! And the horse experiences such distress in travelling them! How is this to be accounted for? Let me try to explain it :---And now I must come to the place of murder.

About five minutes before the report of the pistol in the lane, a gig was heard by some cottagers, of the name of Hunt, passing rapidly by their house towards Gill's-hill-lane. Other cottagers, named Clarke and Broughall, who live on the straight road, beyond the turning into Gill's-hill-lane, heard no gig pass, so it must have gone into the lane. About five minutes after this gig was heard to go by, Mr. Smith, the farmer, bis wife and nurse, who were about three hundred yards from the spot in another lane, heard the pistol; and Smith himself had indeed heard the wheels of a gig coming in the direction from Hunt's Cottage. They all listened and heard groans, but no shrieking or singing out. Mr. Smith indeed heard voices as in contention before the groans. The nurse also now heard voices distinctly of two or three persons, though the groans had ceased! All then became still---And a gig was afterwards heard rattling off.

The supposed track of the wheels, as described by Mrs. Smith, ran into the high road between Radlett and Elstree. It is not impossible for a gig to have gone a considerable way towards Elstree, then to have turned and taken a circuit by Aldenham Common, and so turning again to the left round the Red Lion at Elstree, to have reached the Artichoke with the appearance of coming from London.

Of course the party would only be seen at Elstree once,---it was possible therefore for a gig to have gone to Gill's-hill-lane through Stanmore, over Stanmore Common, Calldecott Hill, by Hill Field Lodge, and so on to Battler's Green. Probert was not seen at Elstree until nearly twenty minutes after eight. The return must have been rapid, and the appearance of the horse, who was cool at Edgeware and could trot ten or eleven miles an hour easily, bears it out. In confirmation of the supposed route by Aldenham Common back to Elstree, a poor woman of the name of Mary Hale, says she heard a gig "tearing by," in front of her cottage, the horse apparently galloping. This she says was between eight and nine.

From this statement 1 should say all three were at Gill's-hill-lane on the fatal night and at the fatal hour of eight o'clock. The confessions rendered all attempts at proving an alibi needless; although this seems to havë been the object in view."

You must by this time be as tired of the Murderers as I am, and I therefore abruptly close here, praying that it may be long before the English character is again cursed with such blights upon it as Thurtell, Probert and Hunt! Yours truly,

EDWARD HERBERT.

Mr. Urban,

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ORIGINAL ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON.

(Gent. Mag.)

Nov. 4, 1823.

OU have in some of your former publications treated your readers with Memoirs, Anecdotes, and Observations upon the Poets, the Philosophers, and other distiguished characters among the ancients; and it must be confessed that the actions, the sentiments, and the wise sayings of great and eminent men of every age and nation are peculiarly interesting.

As such, I presume that some characteristic traits of your early Correspondent, Doctor Johnson, may be gratifying to you, and somewhat entertaining to such of your readers who have heard of him, and more especially to those who personally knew him, and who can enter into a delineation of character, and appreciate the merit of that wonderful man-that profound moral Philosopher, whom they will see could moralize upon every, the most trivial circumstance.

Walking one day with him in my garden at Litchfield, we entered a small meandering shrubbery, whose "Vista not lengthened to the sight," gave promise of a larger extent. I observed that he might perhaps conceive that he was entering an extensive labyrinth, but that it would prove a deception, though I hoped not an unpardonable one.-"Sir," says he, "don't tell me of deception, a lie, Sir, is a lie, whether it be a lie to the eye or a lie to the ear.

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Passing on we came to an urn which I had erected to the memory of a deceased friend. I asked him how he liked that urn, it was of the true Tuscan order." Sir," says he, "I hate them, they are nothing, they mean nothing, convey no ideas but ideas of horror would they were beaten to pieces to pave our streets!"

We then came to a cold bath. I expatiated upon its salubrity. "Sir," says he, "how do you do?" "Very well, I thank you, Doctor." "Then, Sir, let well enough alone, and be content-I hate immersion ?"-Truly, as Falstaff says, the Doctor" would have a sort of alacrity at sinking."

Upon the margin stood the Venus De Medicis.

"So stands the statue that enchants the world."

"Throw her," says he, "into the pond
to hide her nakedness, and to cool her
lasciviousness." He then, with some
difficulty, squeezed himself into a root-
house, when his eye caught the follow-
ing lines from Parnell :

"Go search among your idle dreams,
Your busy or your vain extremes,
And find a life of equal bliss,

Or own the next began in this."

The Doctor, however, not possessing any Silvan ideas, seemed not to dia. I then observed him with Herculean strength tugging at a nail which he was endeavouring to extract from the bark of a plum tree, and having accomplished it, he exclaimed, "There, Sir, I have done some good to day, the tree might have festered. I make a rule, Sir, to do some good every day of my life."

admit that Heaven could be an Arca

Returning through the house, he stepped into a small study or book

room. The first book he laid his Translation of the New Testament." hands upon was Harwood's "Liberal

The passage which first caught his eye was from that sublime apostrophe in St. John upon the raising of Lazarus, "Jesus wept," which Harwood had conceitedly rendered, "and Jesus, the Saviour of the World, burst into a flood of tears." He contemptuously threw the book aside, exclaiming-" Puppy!" I then showed him Sterne's Sermons. "Sir," says he, "do you ever read any others ??? "Yes, Doctor, I read Sherlock, Tillotson, Beveridge, and others ?" "Aye, Sir, there you drink the cup of Salvation to the bottom: here you have merely the froth from the surface."

Within this room stood the Shaks

perean Mulberry vase, a pedestal given by me to Mr. Garrick, and which was recently sold with Mr. Garrick's gems

at Mrs. Garrick's sale at Hampton. The Doctor read the inscription:

*Sacred to Shakspeare, and in honour of David Garrick, Esq. the Ornament-the Reformer of the British Stage."

"Aye, Sir, Davy, Davy loves flattery, but here indeed you have flattered him as he deserves, paying a just tribute to his merit." Yours, &c. J. WICKENS.

THE PHYSICIAN---ON CORPULENCE.

(New Mon.)

I HAVE somewhere met with the observation, that there are persons in imaginary health who are not so deserving of ridicule as the Malades imaginaires, at whose expense the satirist of physicians, Moliére, made himself so merry; but for which the vengeance of Hygæa overtook him, since he was seized, during the representation of this celebrated comedy, with an illness which afterwards carried him off. These healthy persons in their own imagination are the plethoric and corpulent, who take weight for the standard of health, and look with pity on the spare and meagre. It is to such great folks that I address this paper, and I claim no thanks from them if I should be so fortunate as to convince them of their error. I am well aware how gratifying it is to retain errors which persuade us that we are happy; for this very notion confers happiness. I know what pleasure is felt by one who is congratulated on the portliness of his corporation, and the goodly rubicundity of his visage. It is this pleasure of the corpulent that I intend to spoil. I shall prove to them that they are diseased; and, instead of confirming them in the idea that they are pictures of health, I will strike a terror into them that shall penetrate to the very centre of their sub-pectoral protuberances. I can easily foresee how they will reward me for my pains, and I shall, therefore, reply to them in the words of the culprit, who, when the judge had commented on the heinousness of his crime, and concluded with asking him, what he thought he deserved for it-coolly answered, "Oh! 'tis not worth mentioning-I desire nothing for it !"

When the blood contains too many nutritious and oily particles, these tran4 ATHENEUM VOL. 1. 2d series.

spire by innumerable, and almost invisible pores, through the arteries and veins, and collect in the cellular substance, which covers nearly the whole body. Here they form vesicles, or small bags of fat, which become fuller and larger the more of this superabundant nutritious matter is conducted to them. In this manner the otherwise empty interstices of the body are filled up, and it acquires rotundity and corpulence. The fat deposited in these interstices has all the properties of an oil, when it appears in a fluid form. In this state fat exists in some fishes; and Pocock relates of the ostrich, that when it is dead, the Arabs shake it till its fat dissolves and is changed into an oil, which they apply externally in contractions and pains of the limbs, and also administer internally.

A person may grow fat from various causes, the principal of which consists in the use of soft, fluid and nutritious food; such as gravy-broth, juicy flesh, a milk and farinaceous diet and strong beer. Upon the whole, all alimentary substances which convey many fatty particles into the blood, should be avoided by people in good health.

Another cause of corpulence is want of exercise. "A man who lives well," says Hippocrates, "cannot be healthy unless he takes exercise, and attention should always be paid to keep the exercise and food in equilibrium." It is the violation of this rule that produces corpulence, and hence corpulence has justly been described as a mark affixed by Nature upon those who transgress her precepts. In fact, we know from experience, that nothing fattens so rapidly as good eating and drinking, combined with bodily inactivity and love of ease. We see how soon horses grow fat when they are well fed and

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