favour at their first coming in; and every one that would not be turned to the common side, ten guineas, beside two guineas, one guinea and ten shillings per man for every week’s lodging, although in some rooms the men lay four in a bed. As the result of these extortions it was computed that Mr. Pitt cleared some £3000 or £4000 in three or four months, “besides valuable presents given in private, and among others a stone (entire) horse.”
Money was, however, plentiful among the incarcerated Jacobites, and so far as was consistent with their situation, they lived right royally. Sympathetic friends from without plied them with wines and luxurious diet. They had every day a variety of the choicest eatables in season, “and that too as early as the greatest and nicest ladies.”[93] Forty shillings for a dish of peas was nothing to their pockets, nor 13s. for a dish of fish. These, “with the best French wine, was an ordinary regale.” They “lived in this profuse manner, and fared so sumptuously through the means of daily visitants and helps from abroad.” Money circulated plentifully within the prison. While it was difficult to change a guinea at any house in the street, nothing was more easy than to have silver for gold in any quantity in Newgate. Nor did many of them lack female sympathy. Ladies of the first rank and quality, even tradesmen’s wives and daughters, “made a sacrifice of their husbands’ and parents’ rings and precious movables for the use of those whom the law had appointed to be so many sacrifices themselves.”[94] “It is not to be supposed that a champion so noted for the cause as Captain Silk was neglected; for he had his full share of those treats which soon made his clothes too little for his corpse.” When not feasting and chambering, the prisoners found diversion in playing shuttlecock, “at which noble game the valiant Forster beat all who engaged him, so that he triumphed with his feather in the prison though he could not do it in the field.”[95]
For long there was nothing among them but “flaunting apparel, venison pasties, hams, chickens, and other costly meats.” But soon all their jollity came abruptly to an end. The news of the sad fate of the two peers Derwentwater and Kenmure, who had been brought to trial and executed upon Tower Hill, “abated their gaiety.” They were yet more unmistakably reminded of their perilous position by the notice which now came to them to provide themselves with counsel and witnesses for their own defence. Fresh committals too were made to Newgate; prisoners were sent in from the Tower and the Fleet. Among them were Mr. Howard, brother to the Duke of Norfolk, the Master of Nairn, Mr. Baird Hamilton, “a gentleman who behaved with wonderful gallantry at the action of Preston;” Mr. Charles Radcliffe, Lord Derwentwater’s brother, “a youth of extraordinary courage;” Mr. Charles and Mr. Peregrine Widdington, “two gentlemen of diversion and pleasure, both papists;” the two Mr. Cottons, father and son, “nonjurant protestants, and of great estate in Huntingdonshire;” Mr. Thomas Errington, “a gentleman that had been in the French service, … with the laird of Macintosh, Colonel McIntosh, and Major McIntosh, together with other Scotch gentlemen.”
Brought thus face to face with their very pressing danger, all more or less cast about them for some means of escape. Several desperate attempts were made to break prison. Thus on the 14th March it was discovered that several had tried to get out by breaking through the press-yard wall, “from which they were to be let down by a rope, instead of being tucked up by one at Tyburn.” For this several were placed in irons. Some time later Mr. Forster got clean away,[96] as did Brigadier Macintosh and eight others. Mr. George Budden, formerly an upholsterer near Fleet bridge, also effected his escape; and last, but not least, Mr. Charles Radcliffe, Lord Derwentwater’s brother. After Mr. Forster’s escape the Government took greater precautions, and a lieutenant with thirty men of the Foot Guards was ordered to do constant duty at Newgate. Mr. Pitt, the keeper, was strongly suspected of collusion, and was attached on a charge of high treason, being after arrest committed to the custody of one Wilcox, a messenger, “who used him in a barbarous manner, contrary no doubt to the instruction of the noble lord that issued the warrant for his confinement.” The city authorities, no doubt exercised at the insecurity of their gaol, also roused themselves “to look better after their prison of Newgate,” and instead of leaving Mr. Rouse chief turnkey in charge of the whole place, specially appointed Mr. Carleton Smith, an officer of the Lord Mayor’s, and with him Mr. Russell, to take care of the rebels in the press-yard. These new officials “performed their part so well,” it is said, “by examining all the visitors, debarring entrance to all riding hoods, cloaks, and arms, and by sitting up all night in the prison, each in his turn, that not one man escaped from thence during their time.”
The new keepers appear to have stirred up much animosity from their punctual discharge of their duties. Mr. Russell, we read, shortly after his appointment was very much abused and threatened by Captain Silk and some of the rebels, who surrounded him in the press-yard, but he made his retreat without any harm. There must have been some in the reigning monarch’s service with secret sympathies for the Pretender; for it is recorded, May 14th, that “an officer of the guards with two others conversed with the rebels all day.” They were, moreover, humoursome and abusive to the new keepers because of their care in looking after their prisoners; whereof Messrs. Carleton Smith and Russell complained to the Lord Mayor, who thereupon ordered that no officer should be permitted to visit the prisoners without the express permission of the Secretary of State; and next day it is stated the officer in fault was “submissive and sorry for his offence.” This was not the first offence of the kind. A few days before the officer of the guard went in (even then), “contrary to custom,” with his sword on to see the prisoners. He continued with them for some hours, and whether heated with wine or otherwise, beat one of the turnkeys as he brought in a rebel from trial. This officer was placed in arrest, and another mounted guard in his place, who “prevented the drunkenness and other irregularities of the soldiers which might have given the prisoners an opportunity to escape.”
Matters were not too comfortable for the military guard. The men at the gate were liable to insults as on the 19th May, when they were reviled by a Tory constable. They were also open to efforts to wean them from their allegiance. One day Mr. Carleton Smith detected a prisoner, Isaac Dalton,[97] in durance for libel, endeavouring to corrupt the sentinels by giving them money to drink the Pretender’s health with. “But he missed his aim.” The soldiers heartily drank to King George in wine supplied by Mr. Smith, and declared they would oppose the Pretender to the last drop of their blood. All the guards were not equally loyal, however. On another occasion the soldiers of the guard “had the impudence to sing Captain Silk’s dearly beloved tune, ‘The king shall have his own again,’ for which their officer, Captain Reeve, a very loyal gentleman, threatened them with imprisonment.”
The peril of the prisoners bred a certain reckless turbulence among them. On the 29th May a mob collected in great numbers outside, carrying oaken boughs on pretence of commemorating the restoration. The guard was reinforced, lest the mob should attempt to break open the gaol. Inside the rebels were very noisy, and insulted their keepers; “but they were soon put out of a capacity of doing much harm, for by way of precaution they were all locked up before ten o’clock.” This hour of early closing was continued, and greatly resented by them. A few days later they made a great disturbance at the sound of a bell set up by order of the Lord Mayor to ring them to their apartments at the regular hour. They asked for the order. It was read to them, to their manifest dissatisfaction, for it referred the recent escapes to the unaccountable liberty of indulgence permitted them, and insisted that upon the ringing of the bell in question all should betake themselves to their apartments. Ten was the hour of retiring “at farthest”; any infringement of the rule would be followed by the deprivation of all freedom, and double irons for the offenders. Except Captain Silk, however, all acquiesced in the order. He alone, “with his usual impudence, bullied the keeper, and made many unbecoming reflections upon the Lord Mayor and sheriffs.” Nor did insubordination end here. A day or two later the Lord Mayor’s notice, which had been posted up in the various press-yard rooms, was torn down by the rebels in contempt of authority.
A fresh and more serious riot soon occurred in the streets, on the occasion of the thanksgiving on the anniversary of Preston fight. Several visitors came to the rebels with rue and thyme in their hats and bosoms in contempt of the day; but the new keepers made bold to strip them of their
