Algernon Sydney, who, in declining years, of feeble health, and never, as he himself asserted, having been present at a trial, or read a law-book in his life, yet fought this losing battle so bravely, so manfully, with so much presence of mind, learning and eloquence, that the pain of reading of such wrongs is almost lost in admiration of the sufferer, and in envy of such a death.

Every body knows the story of this frightful injustice that he was convicted upon the hearsay evidence of the infamous Lord Howard and the no less infamous West, contradicted, as that evidence was, out of their own mouths, by a host of honorable witnesses, and only bolstered up by a manuscript book written twenty years before, and left openly upon his writing-table.

Every body knows, too, his famous answer to Jeffries at the conclusion of his trial:

Lord Chief-Justice.-I pray God work in you a temper fit to go into the other world, for I see you are unfit for this.

Sydney.-My Lord, feel my pulse (holding out his hand), and see if I am disordered. I bless God I never was in better temper than I am now.

Then the Lieutenant of the Tower carried back his prisoner. This last act of his life is worthy of an anecdote related by Mr. Brand Hollis of his earlier days:

"Mr. Sydney, during his stay in France, being one day hunting with the French King, and mounted on a fine English horse, the form and spirit of which caught the King's eye, received a message that he would be pleased to oblige the King with his horse at his own price. He answered that he did not choose to part with him. The King determined to have no denial, and gave orders to tender him money or to seize the horse; which being made known to Mr. Sydney, he instantly took a pistol and shot him, saying That his horse was born a free creature, had served a free man, and should not be mastered by a King of slaves.'"*

Besides the cases of high treason, of conspiracy, and of misdemeanor, public crimes, which may be understood as state trials in the strictest sense of the word, and which have all more or less of historical interest, this collection includes a vast variety of remarkable causes, robbery, forgery, murder, offenses against individuals, which have frequently, the more perhaps because they

* 4to. Edition (1772) of Algernon Sydney's works.

are confined within the limits of private life, the sort of dramatic effect, of incident and of situation, which belongs properly to ro

mance.

Among these I know none more striking, from the near connection of the principal actors, the strangeness of the scene, the boldness of the crime, and its most providential discovery, than the trial (in 1741) of Samuel Goodere, Captain of H.M.S. Ruby,' for the murder of his brother, Sir John Dinely Goodere, on board his own man-of-war, brought to light by the cooper's wife, who happened accidentally to be sleeping on board, and by her husband, who had the moral courage to apprehend the assassin in his very cabin.

The fullness and minuteness of the evidence, the gradations by which every thought and plan of the fratricide are laid bare by the different witnesses, the reiteration by which one detail is linked to another, from the first attempt to effect a pretended reconciliation with the destined victim, the hurrying him from the shore to the boat, the forcing him from the boat to the vessel, and the barring him in the purser's cabin, to the midnight strangulation, produce an impression of truth and reality almost equal to that of having been personally present at the horrid catastrophe.

The very minuteness and repetition, which make so great a part of the charm, forbid any attempt to transcribe the evidence, but an extract from the opening speech of the counsel will convey better than any words of mine can do, the story of this domestic tragedy. One of the subordinate assassins was tried with Captain Goodere, and another afterward, and it is singular that the first pair of culprits both labored under the infirmity of deaf

ness.

66

Gentlemen, as I am instructed, there had been a long and very unhappy difference between the deceased Sir John and his brother, the prisoner, owing to various occasions; and among others, to Sir John's having cut off the entail of a large estate in Worcestershire, to which Mr. Goodere as the next remainder man would have otherwise stood entitled in default of issue of Sir John. Gentlemen, this misunderstanding by degrees grew to an inveterate grudge and hatred on the part of Mr. Goodere; which was so rooted in his heart, that it at length worked him into a formed design of destroying his brother and making away with him at all hazards and events. The great difficulty was

how to get Sir John into his power, for he generally traveled armed; nor was it easy to get together a set of fellows so base and desperate as to join with him in the carrying off his brother. But, unfortunately for the deceased, Mr. Goodere having been recently honored by his Majesty with the command of the 'Ruby,' man-of-war, happened, in January last, to be stationed in King'sroad (as much within the county of Bristol as this town-hall, where we are sitting). Sir John, who was advanced in years, and very ailing, had, it seems, been advised to come to Bath for the recovery of his health; and having occasion to transact affairs of consequence at Bristol with Mr. Josiah Smith, Mr. Goodere took this opportunity of laying a snare for his brother's life, as you will find by the event. He applies to Mr. Smith; and taking notice to him of the misunderstanding between himself and his brother, pretends a sincere desire of reconciliation, and desires Mr. Smith, if possible, to make up the breach between them; and Mr. Smith promised to do his utmost toward effecting a reconciliation, and was as good as his word; for, by his interest and persuasions, he at length prevailed upon Sir John to see and be reconciled to his brother; and Sir John having appointed Tuesday, the 13th of January last, in the morning, for calling on Mr. Smith, at his house in College Green, Mr. Smith soon made his brother, Mr. Goodere, acquainted therewith; and no sooner was he informed of it, but he began to take his measures for the executing his wicked schemes against his brother's life for on Monday (the day before Sir John was to be at Mr. Smith's), Mr. Goodere, with the other prisoner, Mahony (his inseparable agent and companion in every stage of this fatal business), went together to the White Hart,' an ale-house, near the foot of the College Green, in view of and almost opposite to Mr. Smith's, in order to see if it was a fit place for their desperate purpose; and finding it to be so, Mr. Goodere commended the pleasantness of the closet over the porch, and said he would come and breakfast there the next day. And accordingly, the next morning (which was Tuesday, the 13th), Mr. Goodere, with his friend, Mahony, and a gang of fellows belonging to the privateer called the 'Vernon,' whom they had hired to assist them in the waylaying and seizing of Sir John, came to the White Hart;' when, having ordered they should have what they would call for, he went himself to breakfast in the closet over the porch, from whence he had

a full view of Mr. Smith's house, while the others posted themselves below, on the lookout for Sir John; and it was not long before he came on horseback to Mr. Smith's; but his stay was very short, being obliged to go to Bath: however, he promised Mr. Smith to be in Bristol again by the Saturday following. He was seen from the 'White Hart' by Mr. Goodere and his spies upon the watch; but having a servant, and riding with pistols, they did not think proper to attempt the seizing of him then; but as he rode down the hill, by St. Augustine's Back, Mr. Goodere called out to Mahony, in these words: 'Look to him well, Mahony, and watch him; but don't touch him now.' And, in fact, Gentlemen, the prisoners and their companions followed and watched Sir John a considerable way. Afterward, Mr. Smith acquainted the prisoner, Goodere, that his brother was to be with him on the Sunday following; and little thinking that an interview betwixt two brothers could be of fatal tendency, advised him to be in the way, that he might bring them together: which advice the prisoner observed with but too great punctuality, taking care in the interim to lay such a train, that it should be hardly possible for his brother to escape falling into his hands. He ordered the man-of-war's barge to be sent up for him on the Sunday; accordingly, it came up between two and three that afternoon; of which Mr. Goodere being informed by one Williams, a midshipman, whom he had ordered up in it, he inquired of Williams if he knew the river, and the brick-kilns, going down it? And Williams telling him he did, Mr. Goodere ordered him to get all the boat's crew together, and be sure to place the barge at the brick-kilns, and leave but two or three hands to look after the barge, and bring all the rest of the men to the 'White Hart' ale-house, and wait for him there. Accordingly, Gentlemen, Williams and most of the bargemen came to the place of rendezvous at the White Hart,' where Mahony, with several of the privateer's men (I believe all or part of the same gang that had been there on the watch the Tuesday before), were also met, by Mr. Goodere's orders, to waylay and seize Sir John; and stood at the window, on the lookout, in order to watch his coming out of Mr. Smith's.

Thus the ambuscade being laid, the prisoner, Mr. Goodere, goes to Mr. Smith's about three in the afternoon, the hour at which Sir John had appointed to be there. He went directly

:

toward his brother, Sir John, and kissed him (what kind of kiss it was, will best appear in the sequel), and observed to him, with an outward show of satisfaction, that he looked in better health than he had formerly done. Mr. Smith was so good as to drink friendship and reconciliation between the two brothers. Mr. Goodere pledged it in a glass of wine, which he drank to his brother, Sir John, who, being under a regimen, offered to pledge him in water; little thinking his brother designed to end their differences by putting an end to his life. But that, Gentlemen, you'll soon see, was the sole end he had in view; for Sir John, in about half an hour, taking his leave, Mr. Goodere was following him. Mr. Smith stopped Mr. Goodere, saying, 'I think I have done great things for you.' Says Mr. Goodere, By heaven! this won't do;' and immediately followed his brother; and meeting some of the sailors he had posted at the 'White Hart,' says to them, Is he ready?' and being answered Yes,' he bade them make haste. Mahony and the other fellows, who were on the lookout at the White Hart,' seeing Sir John go down St. Augustine's Back, immediately rushed out, and (as they had been ordered by Mr. Goodere) seized Sir John as their prisoner. Just then, Mr. Goodere himself was come up, and had joined his companions, and showed himself their ringleader; for, according to my instructions, he gave them positive orders to carry Sir John on board the barge; and they but too exactly obeyed the word of command. They hurried on Sir John with the utmost violence and precipitation, forcing him along, and even striking him in the presence of his brother; and, as the Romans used to do their malefactors, dragged him through the public way. The poor unfortunate creature made repeated outcries of murder—that he was ruined and undone, for his brother was going to take away his life. He made what resistance he could-called aloud for help; but all was to no purpose. Several persons, indeed, followed them, and asked what was the matter? But they were answered by Mr. Goodere and his associates, that the person they were hauling along was a murderer-had killed a man, and was going to be tried for his life. The most of this ruffianly crew, being armed with bludgeons and truncheons, obliged the people who came about to keep off, holding up their sticks at them, and threatening to knock them down. Gentlemen, when they had thus forced Sir John toward the end of the rope-walk, Mr. Goodere