Saint or Scoundrel 5

December 28, 1862

I have just returned from my Christmas break to Disley, to stay with my sister Ann and her family. Her son James is now eight, and is a pupil at the National School. Her step-daughter, Mary Ann is a dressmaker and lives at home still.

I went to inform my sisters (Mary visited with us as well for an hour or two on Christmas Day) of my reading of the letters, and how I intended to proceed with them. They were not at all sure how to respond. I think they doubted my ability to write a book, and wondered why I should be wasting my time and effort over this man, whom they still felt was a rogue. But as I wanted to use my time to
good effect, I went to the Parsonage to ask the vicar if I might peruse the wedding and birth records for the period in which I was interested. He obliged, and I have now details which I am quite sure
my father would have been privy to, and would have conveyed to Mr. Wakefield.

I found that on the 14th of January, 1828, Thomas Legh married Ellen Turner at Prestbury Church.
It surprised me somewhat that they were married there rather than in Disley, as I was now reading the Disley register, but apparently Prestbury was the church for those in Shrigley Hall, which of course was the bride’s address, but because the groom was of Disley parish, the wedding was recorded here as well. The service was conducted by Rev. Peter Legh of Lyme Hall, Thomas’ uncle, by special license and with the consent of William Turner. The witnesses are listed as William and Mary Turner, Ellen’s parents.

While I was perusing the entries, my name caught on the entry above, and it turns out that Margaret Legh of Lyme Hall married Robert Danzer of Lincoln Inn, Middlesex on the 8th of January that year. So it was a busy time for the Legh family that January.

I want to get another chapter of my book in order. The question I wanted answered, as to when Ellen actually got married, is now in my knowledge. I can write with some confidence, that Pa will have informed Mr. Wakefield of the event in his letter which was received before this one I will now copy out from Edward. I must see if I can find anyone who knows anything about the details of that marriage.

February 10th, 1828

Newgate Prison

My dear Daniel,

Thank you so much for your letter and I am pleased to know that Ellen has
now managed to make a new life for herself. But I still wish to be
informed of any further developments if you should come upon them.

You said that you wondered about the appropriateness of my teaching my
children in the prison. So does my sister, Catherine. But my
confinement is in some respects very advantageous to them for I have
nothing to do but attend to their education, which is proceeding to
my heart’s content. Their progress through the last six months
surprises even me, who am bound to think my own children prodigies.
Nina has the tenderest heart in the world and I must admit that she
sustains me. Teddy is of an aspiring nature, considering that he is
only seven years old. He wishes to be a general or a prime minister
or something of that kind.

I find myself very involved in the plight of my fellow inmates. I feel
that with my writing and negotiating talents, I can be of great use
to them, coming from the inside as it were. I have been writing
articles, which appear in publications, not under my name, for
obvious reasons, but they have stirred the consciences of the
government.

I am most worried about the death penalty being used for such trivial
crimes. I feel that only murder should require such a proportionate
retribution. George Warner was executed just after I came
here - and for what crime? Coining. How could he possibly deserve
death for that? And my good friend Captain Montgomery, convicted of
forgery and sentenced to hang. The Bank of England asked for clemency
and their plea fell on deaf ears. He, in the end, took poison and
foiled the hangman’s noose. He left me a letter which was read at
his inquest thanking me and blessing me for my friendship.

Prison chaplains, called Ordinaries, hold services inside the prison,
although the chaos there often results in the Ordinary having to
shout to be heard during a sermon. They also hold a service for the
condemned. Gathered around their own coffins, the prisoners listen to
a lengthy sermon on the Sunday before they are taken to be hanged.

Ordinaries also attend the condemned in the prison on the eve of their
execution. Supposedly bringing them spiritual peace of mind, they are
usually more interested in getting prisoners' stories so that they
can sell them as broadsheets at huge profit on the way to Tyburn.

The tenor bell in the bell tower at St. Seplchre without Newgate is rung
on mornings when there is an execution. The 'execution bell' is a
hand bell that is rung for other services concerning condemned
prisoners; it is also rung outside the condemned cell at midnight.
The bellman repeats the following verse three times as he paces
outside the condemned cells. A merchant sailor, Robert Dove, gave £40
to the parish in 1604 to ensure that this was done, in the hope that
the prisoners would seek redemption.

All you that in the condemned hold do lie

Prepare you, for tomorrow you will die.

Watch all, and pray, the hour is drawing near

That you before th'Almighty must appear

Examine well yourselves, in time repent,

That you may not t'eternal flames be sent;

And when St. Sepulchre's bell tomorrow tolls,

The Lord have mercy on your souls!

When executions were stopped at Tyburn, they moved to Newgate, and public
burnings and hangings are carried out in the open area in front of
the prison. Hangings are carried out on the 'new drop' – a portable
gallows with a collapsible platform. Intended to break necks and
bring death more quickly, this unfortunately depends on the hangman
making sure that the rope is the right length, and very few get it
right, if they even bother to try.

I have started publishing stories called “The Condemned Sermon” in
which I give details of the condemned prisoners in Sunday morning’s
chapel. Here is an example:

One of these was a youth of about eighteen years, convicted of stealing
goods worth more than £5 from a house. The prisoners are made to
sing the Morning Hymn which of course reminds them of their prospect
for tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock tomorrow morning is to be their
last moment. They come to the burial service. The youth, who alone of
those for whom it is intended, is both able and willing to read, is
from want of practice at a loss to find the place in his prayer book.

The ordinary observes him, looks to the sheriffs, and says aloud, “the
Service for the Dead.” The youth’s hands tremble as they hold the
book upside down. The young stealer no longer has the least pretence
to bravery. The condemned then return to the cells, the youth sobbing
aloud convulsively.

I could go on and on, but I’m sure you understand what it is that I
am condemning.

I have made a friend of the editor of the Spectator, a large-browed,
gentle-mannered man. He says my words are like a voice which has
risen from the very centre of crime, misery and wretchedness. He
said, “A strange offence against society threw you, an enlightened
reasoner, an active inquirer, an acute observer, into the place which
is, as it were, the nucleus of metropolitan crime.”

And transportation has become much more than it was intended to be. I
have known many a man, who told me he has deliberately committed a
crime in order to be transported - assuming that his life could only
be better half a world away. I have spent a long time thinking and
writing about how Australia could be better served in the way it is
settled than it currently is. You may well see some of my words in
print to that effect before long too - although they won’t be under
my name. If you see writings in the papers called “Letters from
Sydney” you will know who penned them.

My main theory is that transportation of criminals to Australia has no
deterrent effect, and is of no great benefit to Australia. The main
problem, in my opinion, is that the development of the colony was
based on free land grants and convict labour. I think it would be
much better for whole communities of individuals to be transplanted from England
to Australia making colonization systematic. The land should be sold
at sufficient price to those interested in emigrating. The fund of
monies from this would then be used to form an Emigration Fund to
provide free passage for labourers and their families. Once in the
colony, the labourers, after working for a few years, would be able
to buy land themselves. If a ‘core sample of society’, not just
one stratum, could be transplanted into settlements this would give
scope for ‘upward mobility’.

Perhaps this is of no interest to you at all. You must tell me if that is the
case. But I cannot but think that I will be spending the rest of my
life in the pursuit of my ideas, and at the same time, I will be
recompensing society to some extent for my social failures of the
past.

I have been visited by a person you may have heard of - Elizabeth Fry.
She is a Quaker friend and cousin of my grandmother’s and has done
much to help prisoners within this institution. However, I found
myself not very grateful for her ministrations and the manner in
which they were carried out.

But enough for one letter. You must write and tell me more about your
charming family and how life is progressing in Disley. Do you see
much of Thomas Legh and his new wife?

Yours in friendship,

Edward Gibbon