"Menenius.-Marcius, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion; though, peradventure, some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen."

This looks as if the office of executioner had run in some family for a generation or two, at the time when Shakspeare wrote; and that it was a circumstance well understood, and would be well relished, at least by the galleries. This might, indeed, with regard to time, point at the ancestors of Mr. Brandon himself; for it was in the reign of king James I. that this person was brought within the pale of gentility. Nay, more, we are told by Dr. Grey, in his Notes on Shakspeare, that from this gentleman, the hangmen, his successors, bore for a considerable time his Christian name of Gregory, though not his arms, they being a personal honour, till a greater man arose, viz. Jack Ketch, who entailed the present official name on all who have hitherto followed him.†

*

Whether the name of Ketch be not the provincial pronunciation of Catch among the cockneys, may be doubted, notwithstanding that learned and laborious compiler, B. E., gent., the editor of the "Canting Dictionary," says that Jack Kitch, for so he spells it, was the real name of a hangman, which has become that of all his

successors.

So much for the office. It now remains to consider the emoluments which appertain to it, and assign a reason why thirteenpence halfpenny should be esteemed its standard fee for inflicting the last stroke of the law. Before proceeding to matters of a pecuniary nature, it may be allowed, perhaps, to illustrate a Yorkshire saying. It was occasioned by a truly unfortunate man, whose guilt was doubtful, and yet suffered the sentence of the law at York. This person was a saddler at Bawtry, and hence the saying among the lower people to a man who quits his friends too early, and will not stay to finish his bottle:" He will be hanged for leaving his liquor, like the saddler of Bawtry." The case was this:-There was formerly an ale-house, which house to this day is called "The Gallows House," situate between the city of York and their Tyburn ; at this house the cart used always to stop, and there the convict and the other parties were refreshed with liquors ;

Bawtry, on his road to the fatal tree, refused this little regale, and hastened on to the place of execution; where, but not until after he had been turned off, and it was too late, a reprieve arrived. Had he stopped, as was usual, at the gallows house, the time consumed there would have been the means of saving his life. He was hanged, as truly as unhappily, for leaving his liquor.

Similar means of refreshment were anciently allowed to convicts, on their pass sage to Tyburn, at St. Giles's hospital; for we are told by Stowe, that they were there presented with a bowl of ale, called "St. Giles's bowl; thereof to drink at their pleasure, as their last refreshing in this life." Tyburn was the established scene of executions in common cases so long ago as the first year of king Henry IV.; Smithfield and St. Giles's Field being reserved for persons of higher rank, and for crimes of uncommon magnitude, such as treason and heresy. In the last of these, sir John Oldcastle, lord Cobham, was burnt, or rather roasted, alive; having been hanged up over the fire by a chain which went round his waist.*

The executioner of the duke of Monmouth (in July, 1685) was peculiarly unsuccessful in the operation. The duke said to him, "Here are six guineas for you: pray do your business well; do not serve me as you did my lord Russell: I have heard you struck him three or four times. Here, (to his servant,) take these remaining guineas, and give them to him if he does his work well."

Executioner." I hope I shall."

Monmouth." If you strike me twice, I cannot promise you not to stir. Pr'ythee let me feel the axe." He felt the edge, and said, "I fear it is not sharp enough."

Executioner." It is sharp enough, and heavy enough."

The executioner proceeded to do his office; but the note says, "it was under such distraction of mind, that he fell into the very error which the duke had so earnestly cautioned him to avoid; wounding him so slightly, that he lifted up his head, and looked him in the face, as if to upbraid him for making his death painful; but said nothing. He then prostrated himself again, and received two other ineffectual blows; upon which the executioner threw down his

Rapin. See also Bale's Life and Trial of Sir John Oldcastle. St. Giles's was then an independent village, and is still called St. Giles's in the Fields, to distinguish it from St. Giles's, Cripplegate; being both in the same diocese.

he

axe in a fit of horror; crying out, could not finish his work:' but, on being brought to himself by the threats of the sheriffs, took up the fatal weapon again, and at two other strokes made a shift to separate the head from the body."

As to the fee itself, "thirteen-pence halfpenny-hangman's wages," it appears to have been of. Scottish extraction. The Scottish mark (not ideal or nominal money, like our mark) was a silver coin; in value thirteen-pence halfpenny and two placks, or two-thirds of a penny; which plack is likewise a coin. This, their márk, bears the same proportion to their pound, which is twenty-pence, as our mark does to our pound, or twenty shillings, being two-thirds of it. By these divisions and sub-divisions of their penny (for they have a still smaller piece, called a bodel or half a plack) they can reckon with the greatest minuteness, and buy much less quantities of any article than we can. This Scottish mark was, upon the union of the two crowns in the person of king James I., made current in England at the value of thirteen-pence halfpenny, (without regarding the fraction,) by proclamation, in the first year of that king; where it is said, that "the coin of silver, called the mark piece, shall be from henceforth current within the said kingdom of England, at the value of thirteen-pence halfpeny." This, probably, was a revolution in the current money in favour of the hangman, whose fee before was perhaps no more than a shilling. There is, however, very good reason to conclude, from the singularity of the sun, that the odious title of" hangman's wages "became at this time, or soon after, applicable to the sum of thirteen-pence halfpenny. Though it was contingent, yet it was then very consider able pay; when one shilling per day was a standing annual stipend to many respect

able officers of various kinds.

Nothing can well vary more than the perquisites of this office; for it is well known that Jack Ketch has a post-obit interest in the convict, being entitled to his clothes, or to a composition for them; though, on the other hand, they must very frequently be such garments that, as Shakspeare says, a hangman would bury with those who wore them."§

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This emolument is of no modern date, and has an affinity to other droits on very dissimilar occasions, which will be mentioned; presently. The executioner's_perquisite is at least as old as Henry VIII.; for sir Thomas More, on the morning of his execution, put on his best gown, which was of silk camlet, sent him as a present while he was in the Tower by a citizen of Lucca, with whom he had been in correspondence; but the lieutenant of the Tower was of opinion that a worse gown would be good enough for the person who was to have it, meaning the executioner, and prevailed upon sir Thomas to change it, which he did for one made of frize.* Thus the antiquity of this obitual emolument, so well known in Shakspeare's time, seems well established; and, as to its nature, has a strong resemblance to a fee of a much longer standing, and formerly, received by officers of very great respectability. For anciently." garter king of arms" had specifically the gown of the party on the creation of a peer; and again, when archbishops, bishops, abbots, and priors, did homage to the king, their upper garment was the perquisite even of the lord chamberlain of the household. The fee in the latter case was always compounded for, though garter's was often formerly received in kind, inasmuch as the statute which gives this fee to the lord chamberlain directs the composition, because, as the words are, "it is more convenient that religious men should fine for their upper garment, than to be stripped." The same delicate.ne cessity does not operate in the hangman's case, and his fee extends much farther than either of them, he being entitled to all the sufferer's garments, having first rendered them useless to the party. Besides this perquisite, there has always been a pecuniary compliment, where it could possibly be afforded, given by the sufferer to the executioner, to induce him to be speedy and dexterous in the operation. outward gifts may likewise be understood as tokens of inward forgiveness.

t

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These

"Upon the whole," says Dr. Pegge, " 1 conceive that what I have offered above, though with much enlargement, is the meaning of the ignominious term affixed to the sum of thirteen-pence halfpenny, and I cannot but commiserate those for whom it is to be paid."

• More's Life of sir Thomas More, p. 271. + Stat. 13 Edward I.

Pegge's Curialia Miscellanea.

Our "

The first point of peculiarity that strikes the traveller on approaching the "Running Horse "is the pictorial anomaly on the front of the house-the sign represents a race-horse with a rider on its back; but the painter has given us a horse standing as still as most horses would be glad to do after having been running horses for more than half a century. Running Horse" then, stands hard by the church in the village of Merrow, (olim Merewe,) about two miles from Guildford, in Surrey, on the road leading from the latter place to London by way of Epsom. It is at the intersection of the high roads leading to Epsom, to Guildford, to Stoke, and to Albury, Shere, and Dorking. The latter road passes over Merrow Downs, upon which, at the distance of a quarter of a mile from our hostel, is the course whereon Guildford races are annually held. Guildford races formerly attracted a assemblage of spectators. The elderly inhabitants of the above-named ancient borough relate that, such was the influx of company, not a bed was to be had in Guildford unless secured some

very numerous

VOL. II.-50.

weeks before the sports commenced. From some cause, the nature of which the good people of Guildford have never been able satisfactorily to ascertain, the races have, for several years, gradually declined in celebrity and importance, and at present they are too often but thinly attended. The programme of the sports, which annually issues from the Guildford press, is embellished with a wood-cut, an impression I believe of the same block that has been used for the last century. The course is not considered by sportsmen a good one, but its situation, and the views it commands, are delightful.

When king George the First was at lord Onslow's at Clandon, (the adjoining parish,) he gave a plate of one hundred guineas to be run for; and this is now the principal attraction to the proprietors of horses. The members for the borough of Guildford also give a plate of fifty pounds, and there is generally a subscription plate besides.

Our hostel, the "Running Horse" at Merrow, is the place of rendezvous for all the "running horses." Its stable doors bear highly characteristic and interesting

say;

--"the great, th' important day, Big with the fate of jockey and of horse," arrived the majestic "Cydnus." His fine proportions were hid from vulgar gaze, by cloths of purest white. As he walked slowly up the village street ridden by his jockey, a stripling of sixteen, his approach was hailed by the acclamations of the village boys, and the calmer admiration of the men, all looking forward to their holiday on the succeeding day. "Here, I here, here;-here comes one of the racers! -There's a purty creatur! law-look at his long legs-law, Jem, I say, look what long steps he do take-fancy how he must gallop, if he walks so-purty fellur !—I'm sure he'll win-mind if he don't now!" Meanwhile the noble animal arrives at the inn door-high breeding, whether in biped or quadruped, is not to be kept waiting out comes the host in an important bustle, with the bright key of the stable door swinging upon his finger. He shows the way to the best stall, and then takes his station at the door to keep out the inquisitive gazers, while the jockey and trainer commence their tender offices of cleaning and refreshing the horse after his unusual exercise of walking the public road. This done, he is fed, clothed, and left to his repose upon as soft a bed as clean straw will make, while the jockey and trainer adjourn to the house, the admiration of the knot of idlers who are there assembled to hear the pedigree, birth, parentage, education, and merits of " the favourite." Other horses soon arrive, and the conversation takes a more scientific turn, while the jockies make their own bets, and descant learnedly upon those of their masters, till they betake themselves to rest," perchance to dream" of the important event of the cceeding day.

Long before the dew has left the short herbage on the neighbouring downs, the jockies are busily engaged in the stables; and before the sun's heat has exceeded that of an April noon, they are mounted, and gently cantering over the turf, with the double object of airing their horses and showing them the course over which, in a few hours, they are urged, at their utmost speed, in the presence of admiring thousands. What an elating thought for the youthful rider of " the favourite;" with what delight does he look forward to the hour when the horse and his rider will be the objects of attraction to hundreds of fair one's eyes glancing upon him with looks of admiration and interest; while, in his dap. per silk jacket and cap of sky-blue and white, he rides slowly to the weighingplace, surrounded by lords and gentlemen "of high degree." Within a short space the vision is realized-more than realizedfor he has won the first heat" by a length." In the next heat he comes in second, but only " half a neck" behind, and his horse is still fresh. The bell rings again for saddling; and the good steed is snuffing the air, and preparing for renewed exertions, while his rider "hails in his heart the triumph yet to come." The bell rings for starting-" They are off," cry a hundred voices at once. Blue and white soon takes the lead. "Three to one"" five to one" seven to one"-are the odds in his favour; while at the first rise in the ground he gives ample proof to the admiring cognoscenti that he must win." A few minutes more, and a general hum of anxious voices announces that the horses are again in sight. "Which is first?"'"Oh, blue and white still."-" I knew it; I was sure of it." Here comes the clerk of the course flogging out the intruders within the rails, and here comes the gallant bayfull two lengths before the only horse that, during the whole circuit of four miles, has been once within speaking distance of him. He keeps the lead, and wins the race without once feeling the whip. Here is a moment of triumph for his rider! he is weighed again, and receives from his master's hand the well-earned reward of his "excellent riding." The horse is carefully reclothed, and led back to his stable, where his feet are relieved from the shoes which are destined to assist in recording, to successive generations of jockies, the gallant feats, performed by

66

Our hostel, however, must not be thus quitted. The date inscribed within the circle above the centre window is, I think, 1617. (I have a memorandum of it somewhere, but have mislaid it.) The house is plastered and washed with yellow; but its gables, Elizabethan chimnies, and projecting bay window, (a very proper kind of window for a 66 running horse,") render it a much more picturesque building than I have been able to represent it on the small scale of my drawing. In front of it, at about the distance of thirty yards, there was formerly a well of more than a hundred feet in depth; the landlord used to repair this well, receiving a contribution from all who made use of it; but other wells have of late years been dug in the neighbourhood, and the use of this has subsequently been confined to the inmates of the public-house. The church of Merrow, of which there is a glimpse in the background, is worthy of further notice than I have the means of affording in the present communication. November, 1827. PHILIPPOS.

WILLIAM CAPON, THE SCENE PAINTER.

To the Editor.

Sir,-Presuming you may not have been acquainted with the late Mr. William Capon, whose excellence as a gothic architectural scene-painter has not been equalled by any of his compeers, I venture a few particulars respecting him.

My acquaintance with Mr. Capon commenced within only the last five or six years, but his frank intimacy and hearty good-will were the same as if our intercourse had been of longer date. A memoir of him, in the "Gentleman's Magazine," seems to me somewhat deficient in its representation of those qualities.

The memoir just noticed assigns the date of his birth at Norwich to have been October 6, 1757; and truly represents, that though wanting but ten days of arriving at the seventieth year of his age when he died, his hale appearance gave little indication of such a protracted existence. He laboured under an asthmatic affection, of which he was accustomed to complain, while his fund of anecdote, and his jocular naïveté in recitation, were highly amusing. His manner of relating many of the follies of theatrical monarchs, now defunct, was wont to set the table in a roar; and could his reminiscences be remembered, they, would present a detail quite as amusing

as some that have recently diverted the town. Kemble he deified; he confessed that he could not get rid of old prejudices in favour of his old friend; and, to use his own phrase," there never was an actor like him." I have often seen him in ecstasy unlock the glazed front of the frame over his drawing-room chimney-piece, that enclosed a singularly beautiful enamel portrait of that distinguished actor, which will shortly be competed for under the auctioneer's hammer. Some of his finest drawings of the Painted Chamber at Westminster, framed with the richness of olden times, also decorated this room, which adjoined his study on the same floor. His larger drawings had green silk curtains before them; and these he would not care to draw, unless he thought his visitors' ideas corresponded with his own respecting the scenes he had thus depicted. The most valuable portion of his collection was a series of drawings of those portions of the ancient city of Westminster, which modern improvements have wholly annihilated. During the course of demolition, he often rose at daybreak, to work undisturbed in his darling object; and hence, some of the tones of morning twilight are so strictly represented, as to yield a hard and unartistlike appearance.

It was a source of disquiet to Mr. Capon that the liberality of publishers did not extend to such enlargements of Smith's Westminster, as his own knowledge would have supplied. In fact, such a work could not be accomplished without a numerous list of subscribers; and as he never issued a prospectus, the whole of his abundant antiquarian knowledge has died with him, and the pictorial details alone remain.

Mr. Capon was, greatly to his inconvenience, a creditor of the late Richard Brinsley Sheridan, of whom he was accustomed to speak with evident vexation. He had been induced to enter into the compromise offered him by the committee of management of Drury-lane theatre, and give a receipt barring all future claims. This galled him exceedingly; and more than once he hinted suspicions respecting the conflagration of the theatre, which evinced that he had brooded over his losses till his judgment had become morbid.

But he is gone, and in him society has lost an amiable and respected individual. To the regret of numerous friends he expired on the 26th of September at his residence, No. 4, North-street, Westminster. I am, &c., A. W.

November 3, 1827.