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Title: Trial of Mary Blandy

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TRIAL OF MARY BLANDY

Edited By

WILLIAM ROUGHEAD

Author of "Twelve Scots Trials," "The Riddle of the Ruthvens,"
"Glengarry's Way," &c.

ILLUSTRATED

1914







[Illustration: Miss Blandy in her cell in Oxford Castle.
(_From an unpublished Sepia Drawing in the Collection of Mr. Horace
Bleackley_.)]



TO LORD DUNSANY

THIS RECORD OF GRIM REALITY
IN EXCHANGE FOR
HIS BEAUTIFUL DREAMS




PREFACE

In undertaking to prepare an account of this celebrated trial, the
Editor at the outset fondly trusted that the conviction of "the
unfortunate Miss Blandy" might, upon due inquiry, be found to have
been, as the phrase is, a miscarriage of justice. To the entertainment
of this chivalrous if unlively hope he was moved as well by the youth,
the sex, and the traditional charms of that lady, as by the doubts
expressed by divers wiseacres concerning her guilt; but a more intimate
knowledge of the facts upon which the adverse verdict rested, speedily
disposed of his inconfident expectation.

Though the evidence sheds but a partial light upon the hidden springs
of the dark business in which she was engaged, and much that should be
known in order perfectly to appreciate her symbolic value remains
obscure, we can rest assured that Mary Blandy, whatever she may have
been, was no victim of judicial error. We watch, perforce, the tragedy
from the front; never, despite the excellence of the official "book,"
do we get a glimpse of what is going on behind the scenes, nor see
beneath the immobile and formal mask, the living face; but, when the
spectacle of _The Fair Parricide_ is over, we at least are satisfied
that justice, legal and poetic, has been done.

Few cases in our criminal annals have occasioned a literature so
extensive. The bibliography, compiled by Mr. Horace Bleackley in
connection with his striking study, "The Love Philtre" (_Some
Distinguished Victims of the Scaffold_, London, 1905),--which, by his
courteous permission, is reprinted in the Appendix, enumerates no fewer
than thirty contemporary tracts, while the references to the case by
later writers would of themselves form a considerable list.

To this substantial cairn a further stone or two are here contributed.
There will be found in the Appendix copies of original MSS. in the
British Museum and the Public Record Office, not hitherto published,
relating to the case. These comprise the correspondence of Lord
Chancellor Hardwicke, Mr. Secretary Newcastle, the Solicitor to the
Treasury, and other Government officials, regarding the conduct of the
prosecution and the steps taken for the apprehension of Miss Blandy's
accomplice, the Hon. William Henry Cranstoun; a petition of "The
Noblemen and Gentlemen in the Neighbourhood of Henley-upon-Thames" as
to the issuing of a proclamation for his arrest, with the opinion
thereon of the Attorney-General, Sir Dudley Ryder; and the deposition
of the person by whose means Cranstoun's flight from justice was
successfully effected. This deposition is important as disclosing the
true story of his escape, of which the published accounts are, as
appears, erroneous. Among other matter now printed for the first time
may be mentioned a letter from the War Office to the Paymaster-General,
directing Cranstoun's name to be struck off the half-pay list; and a
letter from John Riddell, the Scots genealogist, to James Maidment,
giving some account of the descendants of Cranstoun. For permission to
publish these documents the Editor is indebted to the courtesy of Mr.
A.M. Broadley and Mr. John A. Fairley, the respective owners.

The iconography of Mary Blandy has been made a feature of the present
volume, all the portraits of her known to the Editor being reproduced.
A description of the curious satirical print, "The Scotch Triumvirate,"
will be found in the Appendix.

Of special interest is the facsimile of Miss Blandy's last letter to
Captain Cranstoun, of which the interception, like that of Mrs.
Maybrick's letter to Brierley, was fraught with such fateful
consequences. The photograph is taken from the original letter in the
Record Office, where the papers connected with the memorable Assizes in
question have but recently been lodged.

For the account of the case contained in the Introduction, the Editor
has read practically all the contemporaneous pamphlets--a tedious and
often fruitless task--and has consulted such other sources of
information as are now available. He has, however, thought well
(esteeming the comfort of his readers above his own reputation for
research) to present the product as a plain narrative, unencumbered by
the frequent footnotes which citation of so many authorities would
otherwise require--the rather that any references not furnished by the
bibliography are sufficiently indicated in the text.

Finally, the Editor would express his gratitude to Mr. Horace Bleackley
and Mr. A.M. Broadley for their kindness in affording him access to
their collections of _Blandyana_, including rarities (to quote an old
title-page) "nowhere to be found but in the Closets of the Curious,"
greatly to the lightening of his labours and the enrichment of the
result.

W.R.

8 OXFORD TERRACE,
EDINBURGH, April, 1914.




CONTENTS.

Introduction

Table of Dates

The Trial--
    TUESDAY, 3RD MARCH, 1752.

The Indictment

Opening Speeches for the Prosecution.
    Hon. Mr. Bathurst
    Mr. Serjeant Hayward

Evidence for the Prosecution.
     1. Dr. Addington
     2. Dr. Lewis
     3. Dr. Addington (recalled)
     4. Benjamin Norton
     5. Mrs. Mary Mounteney
     6. Susannah Gunnell
     7. Elizabeth Binfield
     8. Dr. Addington (recalled)
     9. Alice Emmet
    10. Robert Littleton
    11. Robert Harmon
    12. Richard Fisher
    13. Mrs. Lane
    14. Mr. Lane

The Prisoner's Defence

Evidence for the Defence.
     1. Ann James
     2. Elizabeth Binfield (recalled)
     3. Mary Banks
     4. Edward Herne
     5. Thomas Cawley
     6. Thomas Staverton
     7. Mary Davis
     8. Robert Stoke

Motion by Mr. Ford to call another witness refused

Hon. Mr. Bathurst's Closing Speech for the Prosecution

Statement by the Prisoner

Mr. Baron Legge's Charge to the Jury

The Verdict

The Sentence




APPENDICES.

   I. Proceedings before the Coroner relative to the Death of Mr.
Francis Blandy

  II. Copies of Original Letters in the British Museum and Public
Record Office, relating to the Case of Mary Blandy

 III. A Letter from a Clergyman to Miss Mary Blandy, now a prisoner
in Oxford Castle, with her Answer thereto; as also Miss Blandy's own
narrative of the crime for which she is condemned to die

  IV. Miss Mary Blandy's own account of the affair between her and
Mr. Cranstoun, from the commencement of their acquaintance in the
year 1746 to the death of her father in August, 1751, with all
the circumstances leading to that unhappy event

   V. Letter from Miss Blandy to a Clergyman in Henley

  VI. Contemporary Advertisement of a Love Philtre

 VII. Contemporary Account of the Execution of Mary Blandy

VIII. Letter from the War Office to the Paymaster-General, striking
Cranstoun's name off the Half-Pay List

  IX. The Confessions of Cranstoun--
      1. Cranstoun's own version of the facts
      2. Captain Cranstoun's account of the Poisoning of the late
         Mr. Francis Blandy

   X. Extract from a Letter from Dunkirk anent the death of
Cranstoun

  XI. Letter from John Biddell, the Scots genealogist, to James
Maidment, regarding the descendants of Cranstoun

 XII. Bibliography of the Blandy Case

XIII. Description of the satirical print "The Scotch Triumvirate"




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Miss Blandy in her Cell in Oxford Castle               Frontispiece
  _From an unpublished Sepia Drawing in the Collection of Mr. Horace
  Bleackley._

Facsimile of the Intercepted Letter to Cranstoun written by Mary Blandy
  _From the original MS. in the Public Record Office._

Miss Blandy
  _From a Mezzotint by T. Ryley, after L. Wilson, in the Collection
  of Mr. A.M. Broadley._

Miss Mary Blandy in Oxford Castle Gaol
  _From an Engraving in the British Museum._

Captain Cranstoun and Miss Blandy
  _From an Engraving in the British Museum._

Miss Mary Blandy
  _From an Engraving by B. Cole, after a Drawing for which she sat in
  Oxford Castle._

Miss Molly Blandy, taken from the life in Oxford Castle
  _From an Engraving in the Collection of Mr. A.M. Broadley._

Miss Mary Blandy, with scene of her Execution
  _From an Engraving by B. Cole, after an original Painting._

Captain William Henry Cranstoun, with his pompous funeral procession
in Flanders
  _From an Engraving by B. Cole._

The Scotch Triumvirate
  _From a satirical Print in the Collection of Mr. Horace Bleackley._




MARY BLANDY.




INTRODUCTION.


In the earlier half of the eighteenth century there lived in the
pleasant town of Henley-upon-Thames, in Oxfordshire, one Francis
Blandy, gentleman, attorney-at-law. His wife, née Mary Stevens,
sister to Mr. Serjeant Stevens of Culham Court, Henley, and of
Doctors' Commons, a lady described as "an emblem of chastity and
virtue; graceful in person, in mind elevated," had, it was thought,
transmitted these amiable qualities to the only child of the
marriage, a daughter Mary, baptised in the parish church of Henley
on 15th July, 1720. Mr. Blandy, as a man of old family and a busy
and prosperous practitioner, had become a person of some importance
in the county. His professional skill was much appreciated by a
large circle of clients, he acted as steward for most of the
neighbouring gentry, and he had held efficiently for many years the
office of town-clerk.

But above the public respect which his performance of these varied
duties had secured him, Mr. Blandy prized his reputation as a man of
wealth. The legend had grown with his practice and kept pace with
his social advancement. The Blandys' door was open to all; their
table, "whether filled with company or not, was every day
plenteously supplied"; and a profuse if somewhat ostentatious
hospitality was the "note" of the house, a comfortable mansion on
the London road, close to Henley Bridge. Burn, in his _History of
Henley_, describes it as "an old-fashioned house near the White
Hart, represented in the view of the town facing the title-page" of
his volume, and "now [1861] rebuilt." The White Hart still survives
in Hart Street, with its courtyard and gallery, where of yore the
town's folk were wont to watch the bear-baiting; one of those fine
old country inns which one naturally associates with Pickwickian
adventure.

In such surroundings the little Mary, idolised by her parents and
spoiled by their disinterested guests, passed her girlhood. She is
said to have been a clever, intelligent child, and of ways so
winning as to "rapture" all with whom she came in contact. She was
educated at home by her mother, who "instructed her in the
principles of religion and piety, according to the rites and
ceremonies of the Church of England." To what extent she benefited
by the good dame's teaching will appear later, but at any rate she
was fond of reading--a taste sufficiently remarkable in a girl of
her day. At fourteen, we learn, she was mistress of those
accomplishments which others of like station and opportunities
rarely achieve until they are twenty, "if at all"; but her
biographers, while exhausting their superlatives on her moral
beauties, are significantly silent regarding her physical
attractions. Like many a contemporary "toast," she had suffered the
indignity of the smallpox; yet her figure was fine, and her
brilliant black eyes and abundant hair redeemed a face otherwise
rather ordinary. When to such mental gifts and charm of manner was
added the prospect of a dower of ten thousand pounds--such was the
figure at which public opinion put it, and her father did not deny
that gossip for once spoke true--little wonder that Mary was
considered a "catch" as well by the "smarts" of the place as by the
military gentlemen who at that time were the high ornaments of
Henley society.

Mr. Blandy, business-like in all things, wanted full value for his
money; as none of Mary's local conquests appeared to promise him an
adequate return, he reluctantly quitted the pen and, with his wife
and daughter, spent a season at Bath, then the great market-place of
matrimonial bargains. "As for Bath," Thackeray writes of this
period, "all history went and bathed and drank there. George II. and
his Queen, Prince Frederick and his Court, scarce a character one
can mention of the early last century but was seen in that famous
Pump Room, where Beau Nash presided, and his picture hung between
the busts of Newton and Pope." Here was famous company indeed for an
ambitious little country attorney to rub shoulders with in his hunt
for a son-in-law. It is claimed for Miss Blandy by one of her
biographers that her vivacity, wit, and good nature were such as to
win for her an immediate social success; and she entered into all
the gaieties of the season with a heart unburdened by the "business"
which her father sought to combine with pleasures so expensive. She
is even said to have had the honour of dancing with the Prince of
Wales. Meanwhile, the old gentleman, appearing "genteel in dress"
and keeping a plentiful table, lay in wait for such eligible
visitors as should enter his parlour.

The first to do so with matrimonial intent was a thriving young
apothecary, but Mr. Blandy quickly made it plain that Mary and her
£10,000 were not to be had by any drug-compounding knave who might
make sheep's eyes at her, and the apothecary returned to his
gallipots for healing of his bruised affections. His place was taken
by Mr. H----, a gentleman grateful to the young lady and personally
desirable, but of means too limited to satisfy her parents' views, a
fact conveyed by them to the wooer "in a friendly and elegant
manner," which must have gone far to assuage his disappointment. The
next suitor for "this blooming virgin," as her biographer names her,
had the recommendation of being a soldier. Mr. T----, too, found
favour with the damsel. His fine address was much appreciated by her
mamma, who, being a devotee of fashion, heartily espoused his cause;
but again the course of true love was barred by the question of
settlements as broached by the old lawyer, and the man of war
"retired with some resentment." There was, however, no lack of
candidates for Mary's hand and dower. Captain D---- at once stepped
into the breach and gallantly laid siege to the fair fortress. At
last, it seemed Cupid's troublesome business was done; the captain's
suit was agreeable to all parties, and the couple became engaged.
Mary's walks with her lover in the fields of Henley gave her, we
read, such exquisite delight that she frequently thought herself in
heaven. But, alas, the stern summons of duty broke in upon her
temporary Eden: the captain was ordered abroad with his regiment on
active service, and the unlucky girl could but sit at home with her
parents and patiently abide the issue.

Among Mr. Blandy's grand acquaintances was General Lord Mark Kerr,
uncle of Lady Jane Douglas, the famous heroine of the great Douglas
Cause. His lordship had taken at Henley a place named "The
Paradise," probably through the agency of the obsequious attorney,
whose family appear to have had the _entrée_ to that patrician
abode. Dining with her parents at Lord Mark's house in the summer of
1746, Mary Blandy encountered her fate. That fate from the first
bore but a sinister aspect. Among the guests was one Captain the
Hon. William Henry Cranstoun, a soldier and a Scot, whose
appearance, according to a diurnal writer, was unprepossessing. "In
his person he is remarkably ordinary, his stature is low, his face
freckled and pitted with the smallpox, his eyes small and weak, his
eyebrows sandy, and his shape no ways genteel; his legs are clumsy,
and he has nothing in the least elegant in his manner." The moral
attributes of this ugly little fellow were only less attractive than
his physical imperfections. "He has a turn for gallantry, but Nature
has denied him the proper gifts; he is fond of play, but his cunning
always renders him suspected." He was at this time thirty-two years
of age, and, as the phrase goes, a man of pleasure, but his militant
prowess had hitherto been more conspicuous in the courts of Venus
than in the field of Mars. The man was typical of his day and
generation: should you desire his closer acquaintance you will find
a lively sketch of him in _Joseph Andrews_, under the name of Beau
Didapper.

If Mary was the Eve of this Henley "Paradise," the captain clearly
possessed many characteristics of the serpent. As First-Lieutenant
of Sir Andrew Agnew's regiment of marines, he had been "out"--on the
wrong side, for a Scot--in the '45, and the butcher Cumberland
having finally killed the cause at Culloden on 16th April, this
warrior was now in Henley beating up recruits to fill the vacancies
in the Hanoverian lines caused by the valour of the "rebels." Such a
figure was a commonplace of the time, and Mr. Blandy would not have
looked twice at him but for the fact that it appeared Lord Mark was
his grand-uncle. The old lawyer, following up this aristocratic
scent, found to his surprise and joy that the little lieutenant,
with his courtesy style of captain, was no less a person than the
fifth son of a Scots peer, William, fifth Lord Cranstoun, and his
wife, Lady Jane Kerr, eldest daughter of William, second Marquis of
Lothian. True, he learned the noble union had been blessed with
seven sons and five daughters; my Lord Cranstoun had died in 1727,
and his eldest son, James, reigned in his stead. The captain, a very
much "younger" son, probably had little more than his pay and a fine
assortment of debts; still, one cannot have everything. The rights
of absent Captain D---- were forgotten, now that there was a chance
to marry his daughter to a man who called the daughter of an Earl
grandmother, and could claim kinship with half the aristocracy of
Scotland; and Mr. Blandy frowned as he called to mind the
presumption of the Bath apothecary.

How far matters went at this time we do not know, for Cranstoun left
Henley in the autumn and did not revisit "The Paradise" till the
following summer. Meanwhile Captain D---- returned from abroad, but
unaccountably failed to communicate with the girl he had the year
before so reluctantly left behind him. Mary's uncles, "desirous of
renewing a courtship which they thought would turn much to the
honour and benefit of their niece," intervened; but Captain D----,
though "polite and candid," declined to renew his pretensions, and
the affair fell through. Whether or not he had heard anything of the
Cranstoun business does not appear.

According to Miss Blandy's _Own Account_, it was not until their
second meeting at Lord Mark Kerr's in the summer of 1747 that the
patrician but unattractive Cranstoun declared his passion. She also
states that in doing so he referred to an illicit entanglement with
a Scottish lady, falsely claiming to be his wedded wife, and that
she (Mary) accepted him provisionally, "till the invalidity of the
pretended marriage appeared to the whole world." But here, as we
shall presently see, the fair authoress rather antedates the fact.
Next day Cranstoun, formally proposing to the old folks for their
daughter's hand, was received by them literally with open arms,
henceforth to be treated as a son; and when, after a six weeks'
visit to Bath in company with his gouty kinsman, the captain
returned to Henley, it was as the guest of his future father-in-law,
of whose "pious fraud" in the matter of the £10,000 dowry; despite
his shrewdness, he was unaware. Though the sycophantic attorney
would probably as lief have housed a monkey of lineage so
distinguished, old Mrs. Blandy seems really to have adored the foxy
little captain for his _beaux yeux_. Doubtless he fooled the dame to
the top of her bent. For a time things went pleasantly enough in the
old house by the bridge. The town-clerk boasted of his noble quarry,
the mother enjoyed for the first time the company and conversation
of a man of fashion, and Mary renewed amid the Henley meadows those
paradisiacal experiences which formerly she had shared with
faithless Captain D----. But once more her happiness received an
unexpected check. Lord Mark Kerr, a soldier and a gentleman,
becoming aware of the footing upon which his graceless grand-nephew
was enjoying the Blandys' hospitality, wrote to the attorney the
amazing news that his daughter's lover already had a wife and child
living in Scotland.

The facts, so far as we know them, were these. On 22nd May, 1744,
William Henry Cranstoun was privately married at Edinburgh to Anne,
daughter of David Murray, merchant in Leith, a son of the late Sir
David Murray of Stanhope, Baronet. As the lady and her family were
Jacobite and Roman Catholic, the fact of the marriage was not
published at the time for fear of prejudicing the gallant
bridegroom's chances of promotion. The couple lived together "in a
private manner" for some months, and in November the bride returned
to her family, while the captain went to London to resume his
regimental duties. They corresponded regularly by letter. Cranstoun
wrote to his own and the lady's relatives, acknowledging that she
had been his wife since May, but insisting that the marriage should
still be kept secret; and on learning that he was likely to become a
father, he communicated this fact to my Lord, his brother. Lady
Cranstoun invited her daughter-in-law to Nether Crailing, the family
seat in Roxburghshire, there to await the interesting event, but the
young wife, fearing that Presbyterian influences would be brought to
bear upon her, unfortunately declined, which gave offence to Lady
Cranstoun and aroused some suspicion regarding the fact of the
marriage. At Edinburgh, on 19th February, 1745, Mrs. Cranstoun gave
birth to a daughter, who was baptised by a minister of the kirk in
Newbattle, according to one account, in presence of members of both
parents' families; and, by the father's request, one of his brothers
held her during the ceremony. In view of these facts it must have
required no common effrontery on the part of Cranstoun to disown his
wife and child, as he did in the following year. The country being
then in the throes of the last Jacobite rising, and his wife's
family having cast in their lot with Prince Charlie, our gallant
captain perceived in these circumstances a unique opportunity for
ridding himself of his marital ties. The lady was a niece of John
Murray of Broughton, the Prince's secretary who served the cause so
ill; her brother, the reigning baronet, was taken prisoner at
Culloden, tried at Carlisle, and sentenced to death, but owing to
his youth, was reprieved and transported instead; so Cranstoun
thought the course comparatively clear. His position was that Miss
Murray had been his mistress, and that although he had promised to
marry her if she would change her religion for his own purer
Presbyterian faith, and as the lady refused to do so, he was
entirely freed from his engagement. With cynical impudence he
explained his previous admission of the marriage as due to a desire
to "amuse" her relatives and save her honour. In October, 1746, his
wife, by the advice of her friends and in accordance with Scots
practice, raised in the Commissary Court at Edinburgh an action of
declarator of marriage against her perfidious spouse, and the case
was still pending before the Commissaries when Lord Mark Kerr, as we
have seen, "gave away" his grand-nephew to the Blandys.

The old attorney was justly incensed at the unworthy trick of which
he had been the victim. He had designed, indeed, on his own account,
a little surprise for his son-in-law in the matter of the mythical
dower, but that was another matter; so, in all the majesty of
outraged fatherhood, he sought an interview with his treacherous
guest. That gentleman, whose acquaintance with "tight corners" was,
doubtless, like Mr. Waller's knowledge of London, extensive and
peculiar, rose gallantly to the occasion. A firm believer in the
£10,000 _dot_, he could not, of course, fully appreciate the moral
beauty of Mr. Blandy's insistence on the unprofitableness of deceit;
but, taxed with being a married man, "As I have a soul to be saved,"
swore he, "I am not, nor ever was!" The lady had wilfully
misrepresented their equivocal relations, and the proceedings in the
Scottish Courts meant, vulgarly, blackmail. Both families knew the
true facts, and Lord Mark's interference was the result of an old
quarrel between them, long since by him buried in oblivion, but on
account of which his lordship, as appeared, still bore him a grudge.
The action would certainly be decided in his favour, when nothing
more would be heard of Miss Murray and her fraudulent claims. The
affair was, no doubt, annoying, but such incidents were not viewed
too seriously by people of fashion--here the captain would
delicately take a pinch, and offer his snuff-box (with the Cranstoun
arms: _gules_, three cranes _argent_) to the baffled attorney.

On the receipt of Lord Mark's letter, Mrs. Blandy, womanlike,
believed the worst: "her poor Polly was ruined." But her sympathies
were so far enlisted on behalf of the fascinating intended that she
eagerly clutched at any explanation, however lame, which would put
things upon the old footing. She proved a powerful advocate; and, in
the end, Mr. Blandy, accepting his guest's word, allowed the
engagement to continue in the meantime, until the result of the
legal proceedings should be known. He was as loath to forego the
chance of such an aristocratic connection as was his wife to part
from so "genteel" a friend; while Mary Blandy--well, the damsels of
her day were not morbidly nice in such matters, more than once had
the nuptial cup eluded her expectant lips, _enfin_, she was nearing
her thirtieth year: such an opportunity, as Mr. Bunthorne has it,
might not occur again. With the proverbial blindness of those
unwilling to see, the old man did nothing further in regard to Lord
Mark Kerr's communication; that nobleman, annoyed at the
indifference with which his well-meant warning had been received,
forbade his kinsman the house, and the Blandys were thus deprived of
their only means of knowledge as to the doings of their ambiguous
guest.

For the movements of that gentleman from this time until the first
"date" in the case, August, 1750, we must rely mainly upon the
narrative given by his fair fiancée in her _Own Account_, and,
unfortunately, after the manner of her sex, she is somewhat careless
of dates. This first visit of Cranstoun lasted "five or six
months"--from the autumn of 1747 till the spring of 1748--when he
went to London on the footing that Mary, with her father's
permission, should "stay for him" till the "unhappy affair" with his
_soi-disant_ spouse was legally determined. Pending this desired
result, the lovers maintained a vigorous correspondence.

Sometime after his departure, Mrs. Blandy and her daughter went on a
visit to Turville Court, the house of a friend named Mrs. Pocock, of
whom we shall hear again. While there, the old lady became suddenly,
and as was at first feared fatally, ill. Her constant cry, according
to Mary, was, "Let Cranstoun be sent for," and no sooner had that
insignificant warrior posted from Southampton to the sick-room than
the patient began to mend. She declared, now that he had come, she
would soon be well, and refused to take her medicines from any hand
but his. Mr. Blandy, also summoned in haste, was much out of humour
at "the great expense" incurred, and proposed forthwith to take his
wife home, where "neither the physician's fees nor the apothecary's
journeys could be so expensive"; and whenever the invalid was able
to travel, the whole party, including the indispensable captain,
returned to Henley. On the strength of the old lady's continued
illness, Cranstoun contrived to "put in" another six months' free
board and lodging under the Blandys' hospitable roof, until his
regiment was "broke" at Southampton, when he set out for London.
During this visit, says Mary, her father was sometimes "very rude"
to his guest, which, in the circumstances, is not surprising.

Meanwhile, on 1st March, 1748, the Commissary Court had decreed
William Henry Cranstoun and Anne Murray to be man and wife and the
child of the marriage to be their lawful issue, and had decerned the
captain to pay the lady an annuity of £40 sterling for her own
aliment and £10 for their daughter's, so long as she should be
maintained by her mother, and further had found him liable in
expenses, amounting to £100. The proceedings disclose a very ugly
incident. Shortly after leaving his wife, as before narrated,
Cranstoun wrote to her that his sole chance of promotion in the Army
depended on his appearing unmarried, and with much persuasion he at
length prevailed upon her to copy a letter, framed by him, to the
effect that she had never been his wife. Once possessed of this
document in her handwriting, the little scoundrel sent copies of it
to his own and his wife's relatives in Scotland, whereby she
suffered much obloquy and neglect, and when that unhappy lady raised
her action of declarator, with peculiar baseness he lodged the
letter in process. Fortunately, she had preserved the original
draft, together with her faithless husband's letters thereanent.
This judgment was, for the gallant defender, now on half-pay, a
veritable _débâcle_, and we may be sure that the confiding Blandys
would have heard no word of it from him; but Mrs. Cranstoun, having
learned something of the game her spouse was playing at Henley,
herself wrote to Mr. Blandy, announcing the decision of the
Commissaries and sending for his information a copy of the decree in
her favour. This, surely, should have opened the eyes even of a
provincial attorney, but Cranstoun, while admitting the fact,
induced him to believe, the wish being father to the thought, that
the Court of first instance, as was not unprecedented, had erred,
and that he was advised, with good hope of success, to appeal
against the judgment to the Court of Session. Finally to dispose of
the captain's legal business, it may now be said that the appeal was
in due course of time dismissed, and the decision of the
Commissaries affirmed. Thus the marriage was as valid as Scots law
could make it. True, as is pointed out by one of his biographers, he
might have appealed to the House of Lords, "but did not, as it
seldom happens that they reverse a decree of the Lords of Session!"
Nowadays, we may assume, Cranstoun would have taken the risk. The
result of this protracted litigation was never known to Mr. Blandy.

In the spring of 1749, "a few months" after Cranstoun's departure,
Miss Blandy and her mother went to London for the purpose of taking
medical advice as to the old lady's health, which was still
unsatisfactory. They lived while in town with Mrs. Blandy's brother,
Henry Stevens, the Serjeant, in Doctors' Commons. Cranstoun, with
whom Mary had been in constant correspondence, waited upon the
ladies the morning after their arrival, and came daily during their
visit. On one occasion, Mary states, he brought his elder brother,
the reigning baron, to call upon them. This gentleman was James,
sixth Lord Cranstoun, who had succeeded to the title on the death of
his father in 1727. What was his lordship's attitude regarding the
"perplexing affair" in Scotland she does not inform us; but Mr.
Serjeant Stevens refused to countenance the attentions of the
entangled captain. Mrs. Blandy wept because her brother would not
invite Cranstoun to dinner, and it was arranged that, to avoid
"affronts," she should receive the captain's visits in her own room.
But her friend Mrs. Pocock of Turville Court had a house in St.
James's Square. "Hither Mr. Cranstoun perpetually came," says Mary,
"when he understood that I was there;" so they were able to dispense
with the Serjeant's hospitality. One day she and her mother were
bidden to dine at Mrs. Pocock's, to meet my Lord Garnock (the future
Lord Crauford). Cranstoun and their hostess called for them in a
coach, and in the Strand whom should the party encounter but Mr.
Blandy, come to town on business. "For God's sake, Mrs. Pocock, what
do you with this rubbish?" cried the attorney, stopping the coach.
"Rubbish!" quoth the lady, "Your wife, your daughter, and one who
may be your son?" "Ay," replied the old man, "They are very well
matched; 'tis a pity they should ever be asunder!" "God grant they
never may," simpered the ugly lover; "don't you say amen, papa?" But
amen, as appears, stuck in Mr. Blandy's throat: he declined Mrs.
Pocock's invitation to join them, and shortly thereafter returned to
Henley.

During this visit to town Mary Blandy states that Cranstoun proposed
a secret marriage "according to the usage of the Church of
England"--apparently with the view of testing the relative strength
of the nuptial knot as tied by their respective Churches. Mary, with
hereditary caution, refused to make the experiment unless an opinion
of counsel were first obtained, and Cranstoun undertook to submit
the point to Mr. Murray, the Solicitor-General for Scotland.
Whatever view, if any, that learned authority expressed regarding so
remarkable an expedient, Mary heard no more of the matter; but in
Cranstoun's _Account_ the marriage is said to have taken place at
her own request, "lest he should prove ungrateful to her after so
material an intimacy." How "material" in fact was the intimacy
between them at this time we can only conjecture.

Mrs. Blandy seems to have made the most of her visit to the
metropolis, for, according to her daughter, she had contracted debts
amounting to forty pounds, and as she "durst not" inform Mr. Blandy,
she borrowed that sum from her obliging future son-in-law. By what
means the captain, in the then state of his finances, came by the
money Mary fails to explain. Being thus, in a pecuniary sense, once
more afloat, the ladies, taking grateful leave of Cranstoun, went
home to Henley.

We hear nothing further of their doings until some six months after
their return, when on Thursday, 28th September 1749, Mrs. Blandy
became seriously ill. Mr. Norton, the Henley apothecary who attended
the family, was sent for, and her brother, the Rev. John Stevens, of
Fawley, who, "with other country gentlemen meeting to bowl at the
Bell Inn," chanced then to be in the town, was also summoned. It was
at first hoped that the old lady would rally as on the former
occasion but she gradually grew worse, notwithstanding the
attentions of the eminent Dr. Addington, brought from Reading to
consult upon the case. Her husband, her daughter, and her two
brothers were with her until the end, which came on Saturday, 30th
September. To the last the dying woman clung to her belief in the
good faith of her noble captain: "Mary has set her heart upon
Cranstoun; when I am gone, let no one set you against the match,"
were her last words to her husband. He replied that they must wait
till the "unhappy affair in Scotland" was decided. The complaint of
which Mrs. Blandy died was, as appears, intestinal inflammation,
but, as we shall see later, her daughter was popularly believed to
have poisoned her. However wicked Mary Blandy may have been, she
well knew that by her mother's death she and Cranstoun lost their
best friend. An old acquaintance and neighbour of Mrs. Blandy, one
Mrs. Mounteney, of whom we shall hear again, came upon a visit to
the bereaved family. Mrs. Blandy, on her deathbed, had commended
this lady to her husband, in case he should "discover an inclination
to marry her"--she already was Mary's godmother; but Mrs. Mounteney
was destined to play another part in the subsequent drama.

Miss Blandy broke the sad news by letter to her lover in London, and
pressed him to come immediately to Henley; but the gallant officer
replied that he was confined to the house for fear of the bailiffs,
and suggested the propriety of a remittance from the mistress of his
heart. Mary promptly borrowed forty pounds from Mrs. Mounteney,
fifteen of which she forwarded for the enlargement of the captain,
who, on regaining his freedom, came to Henley, where he remained
some weeks. Francis Blandy was much affected by the loss of his
wife. At first he seems to have raised no objection to Cranstoun's
visit, but soon Mary had to complain of the "unkind things" which
her father said both to her lover and herself. There was still no
word from Scotland, except a "very civil" letter of condolence from
my Lady Cranstoun, accompanied by a present of kippered
salmon--apparently intended as an antidote to grief; but though the
old man was gratified by such polite attentions, his mind was far
from easy. He was fast losing all faith in the vision of that
splendid alliance by which he had been so long deluded, and did not
care to conceal his disappointment from the person mainly
responsible.

On this visit mention was first made by Cranstoun of the fatal
powder of which we shall hear so much. Miss Blandy states that,
_apropos_ to her father's unpropitious attitude, her lover
"acquainted her of the great skill of the famous Mrs. Morgan," a
cunning woman known to him in Scotland, from whom he had received a
certain powder, "which she called love-powders"--being, as appears,
the Scottish equivalent to the _poculum amatorium_ or love philtre
of the Romans. Mary said she had no faith in such things, but
Cranstoun assured her of its efficacy, having once taken some
himself, and immediately forgiven a friend to whom he had intended
never to speak again. "If I had any of these powders," said he, "I
would put them into something Mr. Blandy should drink." Such is
Mary's account of the inception of the design upon her father's
love--or life. There for the time matters rested.

"Before he left Henley for the last time," writes Lady Russell, to
whose interesting account we shall later refer, "Captain Cranstoun
made an assignation with Miss Blandy to meet her in the grounds of
Park Place, which had long been their trysting-place; and here it
was that in a walk which still goes by the name of 'Blandy's Walk,'
he first broached his diabolical plan." Park Place, according to the
same authority, had shortly before been purchased by General Conway
and Lady Ailesbury from Mr. Blandy, as "trustee" of the property.

A "dunning" letter following the impecunious captain to his peaceful
retreat alarmed the lovers, for the appearance of a bailiff in the
respectable house in Hart Street would, for Mr. Blandy, have been,
as the phrase goes, the last straw. Fortunately, Mary had retained
against such a contingency the balance of Mrs. Mounteney's loan; and
with another fifteen pounds of that lady's in his pocket, the
captain left for London to liquidate his debt.

From that time till August, 1750, the shadow of his sinister guest
did not darken the attorney's door. On the first of that month
Cranstoun wrote that he proposed to wait upon him. "He must come, I
suppose," sighed the old man, and allowed Mary to write that the
visitor would be received. Doubtless, he faintly hoped that the
Scottish difficulty was at last removed. But the captain, when he
came, brought nothing better than the old empty assurances, and his
host did not conceal how little weight he now attached to such
professions. The visit was an unpleasant one for all parties, and
the situation was rapidly becoming impossible. Mary "seldom rose
from the table without tears." Her father spent his evenings at "the
coffee-house," that he might see as little as possible of the
unwelcome guest.

One morning, Mary states, Cranstoun put some of the magic powder in
the old gentleman's tea, when, _mirabile dictu_, Mr. Blandy, who at
breakfast had been very cross, appeared at dinner in the best of
humours, and continued so "all the time Mr. Cranstoun stayed with
him"! After this, who could doubt the beneficent efficacy of the
wise woman's drug?

During one of their daily walks this singular lover informed his
betrothed that he had a secret to communicate, to wit, that over and
above the Scottish complication, "he had a daughter by one Miss
Capel" a year before he met the present object of his desires. Miss
Blandy, with much philosophy, replied that she hoped he now saw his
follies and would not repeat them. "If I do," said Cranstoun, "I
must be a villain; you alone can make me happy in this world; and by
following your example, I hope I shall be happy in the next." A day
or two afterwards, when Cranstoun was abroad, Mary, so far
anticipating her wifely duties, entered his room in order to look
out his things for the wash. She found more "dirty linen" than she
expected. In an unlocked trunk was a letter of recent date,
addressed to the gallant captain by a lady then enjoying his
protection in town. Even Miss Blandy's robust affection was not, for
the moment, able to overlook a treachery so base. She locked the
trunk, put the key in her pocket, and at the first opportunity
handed it to Cranstoun, with the remark that he should in future be
more careful of his private correspondence. A disgusting scene
ensued. For two hours the wretched little captain wept and raved,
imploring her forgiveness. On his knees, clinging to the skirts of
her gown, he swore he would not live till night unless she pardoned
his offence. Mary asked him to leave Henley at once; she would not
expose him, and their engagement "might seem to go off by degrees."
But the miserable creature conjured her by her mother's dying words
not to give him up, vowing never to repeat "the same provocations."
In the end Mary foolishly yielded; one wonders at the strength of
that abnormal passion by which she was driven to accept a position
so impossible for a decent and intelligent girl.

Soon after this incident Cranstoun was summoned to Scotland, where
his mother, Lady Cranstoun, was "extremely ill." "Good God!" cried
this admirable son, "what shall I do? I have no money to carry me
thither, and all my fortune is seized on but my half-pay!" For the
third time Miss Blandy came to the rescue, even giving him back a
miniature of his ugly countenance with which he had formerly
presented her. At six o'clock next morning he set out for the North
in a post-chaise. The old attorney rose early with good heart to
speed the parting guest, and furnished him with a half-pint bottle
of rum for the journey. Mary says they "all shed tears"; if so, hers
were the only genuine tokens of regret. As she waved good-bye to her
lover and watched the departing chaise till it was lost to view
along the London road, she little thought that, although his
sinister influence would remain with her to the end, his graceless
person had passed from her sight for ever.

It was the month of November, 1750, when Cranstoun took final leave
of Henley. In October, a year after Mrs. Blandy's death, divers
curious phenomena had been observed in the old house by the bridge.
Cranstoun professed that he could get no sleep o' nights, in his
room "over the great parlour," by reason of unearthly music sounding
through the chamber after midnight, for two hours at a time. On his
informing his host of the circumstance, Mr. Blandy caustically
observed, "It was Scotch music, I suppose?" from which Miss Blandy
inferred that he was not in a good humour--though the inference
seems somewhat strained. This manifestation was varied by rappings,
rustlings, banging of doors, footfalls on the stairs, and other
eerie sounds, "which greatly terrified Mr. Cranstoun." The old man
was plainly annoyed by these stories, though he merely expressed the
opinion that his guest was "light-headed." But when Cranstoun one
morning announced that he had been visited in the night, as the
clock struck two, by the old gentleman's wraith, "with his white
stockings, his coat on, and a cap on his head," Mr. Blandy "did not
seem pleased with the discourse," and the subject was dropped. But
Mary, mentioning these strange matters to the maids, expressed the
fear that such happenings boded no good to her father, and told how
Mr. Cranstoun had learned from a cunning woman in Scotland that they
were the messengers of death, and that her father would die within
the year.

Whatever weight might attach to these gloomy prognostications of the
mysterious Mrs. Morgan, it became obvious that from about that date
Francis Blandy's health began to fail. He was in the sixty-second
year of his age, and he suffered the combined assault of gout,
gravel, and heartburn. The state of irritation and suspense
consequent upon his daughter's relations with her lover must greatly
have aggravated his troubles. It was assumed by the prosecution, on
the ground of Mr. Blandy losing his teeth through decay, that he had
begun to manifest the effects of poison soon after Cranstoun left
Henley in November, 1750, but from the evidence given at the trial
it seems improbable that anything injurious was administered to him
until the receipt in the following April of that deadly present from
Scotland, "The powder to clean the pebbles with." Mr. Norton, the
medical man who attended him for several years, stated that the last
illness Mr. Blandy had before the fatal one of August, 1751, was in
July, 1750. The stuff that Cranstoun had put into the old
gentleman's tea in August could, therefore, have no reference to the
illness of the previous month, and certainly was not the genuine
preparation of Mrs. Morgan. If Mary Blandy were not in fact his
accomplice later, it may have been sifted sugar or something equally
simple, to induce her to believe the magic powder harmless.

Having at length got his would-be son-in-law out of the house, Mr.
Blandy determined to be fooled no further; he ordered Mary to write
to Cranstoun telling him on no account to show his face again at
Henley until his matrimonial difficulties were "quite decided."
Tears and entreaties were of no avail; like all weak characters, Mr.
Blandy, having for once put down his foot, was obdurate. This
ultimatum she duly communicated to her lover in the North; if we
could know in what terms and how replied to by him, we should solve
the riddle. Hitherto they seem to have trusted to time and the old
man's continued credulity to effect their respective ends, but now,
if Miss Blandy were to secure a "husband" and Cranstoun lay hands
upon her £10,000, some definite step must be taken. Both knew, what
was as yet unknown to Mr. Blandy, that the appeal had long since
been dismissed, and that while his wife lived Cranstoun could never
marry Mary. At any moment her father might learn the truth and
alter, by the stroke of a pen, the disposition of his fortune. That
they openly agreed to remove by murder the obstacle to their mutual
desires is unlikely. Cranstoun, as appears from all the
circumstances, was the instigator, as he continued throughout the
guiding spirit, of the plot; probably nothing more definite was said
between them than that the "love powder" would counteract the old
man's opposition; but from her subsequent conduct, as proved by the
evidence, it is incredible that Mary acted in ignorance of the true
purpose of the wise woman's prescription.

In April, or the beginning of May, 1751, by Miss Blandy's statement,
she received from her lover a letter informing her that he had seen
his old friend Mrs. Morgan, who was to oblige him with a fresh
supply of her proprietary article, which he would send along with
some "Scotch pebbles" for his betrothed's acceptance. "Ornaments of
Scotch pebbles," says Lady Russell, "were the extreme of fashion in
the year 1750." According to the opening speech for the Crown, both
powder and pebbles arrived at Henley in April; Mary says they did
not reach her hands till June. Susan Gunnell, one of the
maidservants, stated at the trial that there were two consignments
of pebbles from Scotland; one "in a large box of table linen," which
came "early in the spring," and another in "a small box," some three
months before her master's death. Cranstoun's instructions were "to
mix the powder in tea." While professing to doubt "such efficacy
could be lodged in any powder whatsoever," and expressing the fear
"lest it should impair her father's health," Mary consented to give
the love philtre a fair trial. "This some mornings after I did," she
says in her _Own Account_.

Of the earlier phases of Francis Blandy's fatal illness, which began
in this month of June, the evidence tells us nothing more definite
than that he suffered much internal pain and frequently was sick; but
two incidents occurring at that time throw some light upon the cause
of his complaint. It was the habit of the old man to have his tea
served "in a different dish from the rest of the family." One morning
Susan Gunnell, finding that her master had left his tea untasted,
drank it; for three days she was violently sick and continued unwell
for a week. On another occasion Mr. Blandy's tea being again untouched
by him, it was given to an old charwoman named Ann Emmet, often
employed about the house. She shortly was seized with sickness so
severe as to endanger her life. That Mary knew of both these
mysterious attacks is proved; she was much concerned at the illness
of the charwoman, who was a favourite of hers, and she sent white
wine, whey, and broth for the invalid's use.

It is singular that such experiences failed to shake Miss Blandy's
faith in the harmless nature of Mrs. Morgan's nostrum, but they at
least made her realise that tea was an unsuitable vehicle for its
exhibition, and she communicated the fact to Cranstoun. Her
bloodthirsty adviser, however, was able to meet the difficulty. On
18th July he wrote to her, "in an allegorical manner," as
follows:--"I am sorry there are such occasions to clean your
pebbles; you must make use of the powder to them by putting it in
anything of substance wherein it will not swim a-top of the water,
of which I wrote to you in one of my last. I am afraid it will be
too weak to take off their rust, or at least it will take too long a
time." As a further inducement to her to hasten the work in hand, he
described the beauties of Scotland, and mentioned that his mother,
Lady Cranstoun, was having an apartment specially fitted up at
Lennel House for Mary's use. The text of this letter was quoted by
Bathurst in his opening speech for the Crown, but the report of the
trial does not bear that the document itself was produced, or that
it was proved to be in Cranstoun's handwriting. The letter is quoted
in the _Secret History_ and referred to in other contemporary
tracts, and the fact of its existence appears to have been well
known at the time. Further, Miss Blandy in her _Own Account_
distinctly alludes to its receipt, and no objection was taken by her
or her counsel to the reading of it at the trial. The point is of
importance for two reasons. Firstly, this letter, if written by
Cranstoun and received by Mary affords the strongest presumptive
proof of their mutual guilt. Had their design been, as she asserted,
innocent, what need to adopt in a private letter this "allegorical"
and guarded language? Secondly, Mary, as we shall see, found means
before her arrest to destroy the half of the Cranstoun correspondence
in her keeping, and it would have been more satisfactory if the
prosecution had shown how this particular letter escaped to fall into
their hands. That she herself fabricated it in order to inculpate her
accomplice is highly improbable; had she done so, as Mr. Bleackley has
pointed out, its contents would have been more consistent with her
defence.

On the evening of Sunday, 4th August, Susan Gunnell, by order of her
mistress, made in a pan a quantity of water gruel for her master's
use. On Monday, the 5th, Miss Blandy was seen by the maids at
mid-day stirring the gruel with a spoon in the pantry. She remarked
that she had been eating the oatmeal from the bottom of the pan,
"and taking some up in the spoon, put it between her fingers and
rubbed it." That night some of the gruel was sent up in a half-pint
mug by Mary for her father's supper. When doing so, she repeated her
curious action of the morning, taking a little in a spoon and
rubbing it. On Tuesday, the 6th, the whole house was in confusion:
Mr. Blandy had become seriously ill in the night, with symptoms of
violent pain, vomiting, and purging. Mr. Norton, the Henley
apothecary who attended the family, was summoned--at whose instance
does not appear--and on arriving at the house he found the patient
suffering, as he thought, from "a fit of colic." He asked him if he
had eaten anything that could have disagreed with him; and Mary, who
was in the bedroom, replied "that her papa had had nothing that she
knew of, except some peas on the Saturday night before." Not a word
was said about the gruel; and Mr. Norton had no reason to suspect
poison. He prescribed, and himself brought certain remedies,
promising to call next day. In the afternoon Miss Blandy, in the
kitchen, asked Elizabeth Binfield, the cook, this strange question:
"Betty, if one thing should happen, will you go with me to
Scotland?" to which Betty cautiously replied, "If I should go there
and not like it, it would be expensive travelling back again." That
evening Susan was told to warm some of the gruel for her master's
supper; she did so, and Mary herself carried it to him in the
parlour. On going upstairs to bed, he was repeatedly sick, and
called to Susan to bring him a basin.

Next morning, Wednesday, the 7th, Betty Binfield brought down from
the bedroom the remains of Mr. Blandy's supper. Old Ann Emmet, the
charwoman, chanced, unhappily for herself, to be in the kitchen.
Susan told her she might eat what had been left, which she did, with
the result that she too became violently ill, with symptoms similar
to those of Mr. Blandy, and even by the following spring had not
sufficiently recovered to be able to attend the trial of her
benefactress. When Susan, at nine o'clock, went up to dress her
mistress and informed her of her protegee's seizure, Miss Blandy
feelingly remarked that she was glad she had not been downstairs, as
it would have shocked her to see "her poor dame" so ill. The doctor
called in the forenoon and found his patient easier. Later in the
day Mary said to Susan that as her master had taken physic, he would
require more gruel, but as there was still some left, she need not
make it fresh "as she was ironing." Susan replied that the gruel was
stale, being then four days old, and, further, that having herself
tasted it, she felt very ill, upon which facts Mary made no comment.
She thoughtfully warned the cook, however, that if Susan ate more of
the gruel "she might do for herself--a person of her age," from
which we must infer that Susan was much her master's senior; how,
otherwise, was the old man to take it daily with impunity?

The strange circumstances attending this gruel aroused the maids'
suspicions. They examined the remanent contents of the pan--the aged
but adventurous Susan again tasting the fatal mixture was sick for
many days--and found a white, gritty "settlement" at the bottom.
They prudently put the pan in a locked closet overnight. Next day,
Thursday, the 8th, Susan carried it to their neighbour, Mrs.
Mounteney, who sent for Mr. Norton, the apothecary, by whom the
contents were removed for subsequent examination, the result of
which will in due course appear.

Meanwhile, Mary's uncle, the Rev. Mr. Stevens, of Fawley, having
heard of his brother-in-law's illness, arrived on Friday, the 9th.
To him Susan communicated the suspicious circumstances already
mentioned, and he advised her to tell her master what she knew.
Accordingly, at seven o'clock the following morning (Saturday, the
10th), Susan entered her master's bedroom, and broke to him the
fearful news that his illness was suspected to be due to poison,
administered to him by his own daughter. So soon as he had recovered
from the first shock of this terrible intelligence, the old attorney
asked her where Mary could have obtained the poison--he does not
seem to have questioned the fact of its administration--and Susan
could suggest no other source than Cranstoun. "Oh, that villain!"
cried the sick man, realising in a flash the horrid plot of which he
was the victim, "that ever he came to my house! I remember he
mentioned a particular poison that they had in their country." Susan
told him that Mr. Norton advised that Miss Blandy's papers be seized
forthwith, but to this Mr. Blandy would not agree. "I never in all
my life read a letter that came to my daughter," said the scrupulous
old man; but he asked Susan to secure any of the powder she could
find.

Determined at once to satisfy himself of the truth, Mr. Blandy rose
and went downstairs to breakfast. There was present at that meal,
besides himself and Mary, one Robert Littleton, his clerk, who had
returned the night before from a holiday in Warwickshire. The old
man appeared to him "in great agony, and complained very much." Mary
handed her father his tea in his "particular dish." He tasted it,
and, fixing his eyes upon her, remarked that it had a bad, gritty
taste, and asked if she had put anything into it. The girl trembled
and changed countenance, muttering that it was made as usual; to
hide her confusion she hurried from the room. Mr. Blandy poured his
tea into "the cat's basin" and sent for a fresh supply. After
breakfast, Mary asked Littleton what had become of the tea, and,
being told, seemed to him much upset by the occurrence. When the old
man had finished his meal, he went into the kitchen to shave. While
there he observed to his daughter, in presence of Betty Binfield, "I
had like to have been poisoned once," referring to an occasion when
he and two friends drank something hurtful at the coffee house. "One
of these gentlemen died immediately, the other is dead now," said
he; "I have survived them both, and it is my fortune to be poisoned
at last," and, looking "very hard" at her, he turned away.

Miss Blandy must have been blind indeed had she failed to see the
significance of these incidents. Anything but obtuse, she at once
decided to take instant measures for her own protection. She went up
to her room, and collecting Cranstoun's correspondence and what
remained of the fatal powder, she returned to the kitchen; standing
before the fire on pretence of drying the superscription of a
letter, she threw the whole bundle into the grate and "stirred it
down with a stick." The cook at the moment, whether by chance or
design, put on some coals, which preserved the papers from flaming
up, and as soon as their mistress had left the kitchen, the maids,
now thoroughly on the alert, took off the coal. The letters were
consumed, but they drew out almost uninjured a folded paper packet,
bearing in Cranstoun's hand the suggestive words, "The powder to
clean the pebbles with," and still containing a small quantity of
white powder, which they delivered to Mr. Norton when he called
later in the day. The apothecary found his patient worse, and stated
his opinion to Mary, who asked him to bring from Reading the great
Dr. Anthony Addington (father of Lord Sidmouth). Did she at the
eleventh hour, pausing upon her dreadful path, seek yet to save her
father's life, or was this merely a move to show her "innocence," as
Dr. Pritchard, in similar circumstances, invited an eminent
colleague to visit his dying victims? Both in her _Narrative_ and
her _Own Account_ Mary takes full credit for calling in Dr.
Addington, but she is unable to allude to the episodes of the
parlour and the kitchen.

Dr. Addington arrived at midnight. From the condition of the
patient, coupled with what he learned from him and Mr. Norton, the
doctor had no doubt Mr. Blandy was suffering from the effects of
poison. He at once informed the daughter, and inquired if her father
had any enemies. "It is impossible!" she replied. "He is at peace
with all the world and all the world is at peace with him." She
added that her father had long suffered from colic and heartburn, to
which his present indisposition was doubtless due. Dr. Addington
remained in the sick-room until Sunday morning (the 11th), when he
left, promising to return next day. He took with him the sediment
from the pan and the packet rescued from the fire, both of which
were delivered to him by Mr. Norton. At this time neither physician
nor apothecary knew the precise nature of the powder. Before he
quitted the house, Dr. Addington warned Mary that if her father died
she would inevitably be ruined.

Her position was now, one would think, sufficiently precarious; but
the infatuated woman took a further fatal step. Her "love" for her
murderous little gallant moved her to warn him of their common
danger. She wrote to him at Lennel House, Coldstream, and asked
Littleton, who had been in the habit of directing her letters to
Cranstoun, to seal, address, and post the missive as usual. But
Littleton, aware of the dark cloud of suspicion that had settled
upon his master's daughter, opened it and read as follows:--"Dear
Willy,--My father is so bad that I have only time to tell you that
if you do not hear from me soon again, don't be frightened. I am
better myself. Lest any accident should happen to your letters, take
care what you write. My sincere compliments. I am ever yours."
Littleton at once showed the letter to Mr. Norton, and afterwards
read it to Mr. Blandy: "He said very little. He smiled and said,
'Poor love-sick girl! What won't a girl do for a man she loves?'"

There was then in the house Mary's uncle, Mr. Blandy, of Kingston,
who had come to see his brother, and it was prudently decided, in
view of all the circumstances, to refuse her access to the
sick-room. But on the following morning (Monday, the 12th) Mr.
Blandy sent by Susan Gunnell a message to his daughter "that he was
ready to forgive her if she would but endeavour to bring that
villain to justice." In accordance with the dying man's request,
Mary was admitted to his room in presence of Susan and Mr. Norton.
Unaware of the recovery of the powder and the interception of her
letter, "she thanked God that she was much better, and said her mind
was more at ease than it had been"; but, being informed of these
damning discoveries, she fell on her knees by her father's bed and
implored his forgiveness, vowing that she would never see or write
to Cranstoun again. "I forgive thee, my dear," said the old man,
"and I hope God will forgive thee; but thou shouldst have considered
better than to have attempted anything against thy father." To which
she answered, "Sir, as for your illness, I am entirely innocent."
She admitted having put the powder into the gruel, "but," said she,
"it was given me with another intent." Her father, "turning himself
in his bed," exclaimed, "Oh, such a villain! To come to my house,
eat and drink of the best my house could afford, and then to take
away my life and ruin my daughter! Oh, my dear, thou must hate that
man, must hate the ground he treads on, thou canst not help it!"
"Sir," said Mary, "your tenderness towards me is like a sword
piercing my heart--much worse than if you were ever so angry. I must
down on my knees and beg you will not curse me." "I curse thee, my
daughter," he rejoined, "how canst thou think I could curse thee?
Nay, I bless thee, and hope God will bless thee also and amend thy
life. Do, my dear, go out of my room and say no more, lest thou
shouldst say anything to thine own prejudice"; whereupon, says
Susan, who reports what passed, "she went directly out." Thus Mary
and her father parted for the last time. It appears from this
pathetic interview that the old man purposely treated her as
Cranstoun's innocent dupe, to shield her, if possible, from the
consequences of her guilt, of which, in the circumstances, he could
have entertained no doubt.

[Illustration: Facsimile of the Intercepted Letter to Cranstoun
written by Mary Blandy
(_From the original MS. in the Public Record Office_.)]

Meanwhile Dr. Addington had applied to the mysterious powder the
tests prescribed by the scientific knowledge of the time, which, if
less delicate and reliable than the processes of Reinsch and
Marsh--a red-hot poker was the principal agent--yielded results then
deemed sufficiently conclusive. Judged by these experiments, Mrs.
Morgan's mystic philtre was composed of nothing more recondite than
white arsenic. When Dr. Addington called on Monday he found the
patient much worse, and sent for Dr. Lewis, of Oxford, as he
"apprehended Mr. Blandy to be in the utmost danger, and that this
affair might come before a Court of judicature." He asked the dying
man whether he himself knew if he had "taken poison often." Mr.
Blandy said he believed he had, and in reply to the further
question, whom he suspected to be the giver of the poison? "the
tears stood in his eyes, yet he forced a smile, and said, 'A poor
love-sick girl--I forgive her. I always thought there was mischief
in those cursed Scotch pebbles.'" Dr. Lewis came, and confirmed Dr.
Addington's diagnosis; by their orders Mary was that evening
confined to her chamber, a guard was placed over her, and her keys,
papers, "and all instruments wherewith she could hurt either herself
or any other person" were taken from her. Dr. Addington graphically
describes the scene when the guilty woman realised that all was
lost. She protested that from the first she had been basely deceived
by Cranstoun, that she had never put powder in anything her father
swallowed, excepting the gruel drunk by him on the Monday and
Tuesday nights, that she believed it "would make him kind to him
[Cranstoun] and her," and that she did not know it to be poison
"_till she had seen its effects_." She declined to assist in
bringing her lover to justice--she considered him as her husband,
"though the ceremony had not passed between them." In reply to
further pertinent questions, e.g., whether she really pretended to
believe in the childish business of the "love philtre"? why
Cranstoun described it, if innoxious, as "powder to clean the
pebbles with"? why, in view of her father's grave condition, she
failed sooner to call in medical aid? and why she had concealed from
him (Addington) what she knew to be the true cause of the illness?
her answers were not such, says Dr. Addington, as gave him any
satisfaction. She made, however, the highly damaging admission that,
about six weeks before, she had put some of the powder into her
father's tea, which Susan Gunnell drank and was ill for a week
after. This was said in presence of Betty Binfield. Thus, it will be
observed, Mary Blandy, on her own showing knew, long before she
operated upon, the gruel at all, the baneful effects of the powder.
Her statement that the motive for administering it was to make her
father "kind" both to _herself_ and Cranstoun should also be, in
view of her subsequent defence, remembered.

On Tuesday, the 13th, the doctors found their patient delirious and
"excessively weak." He grew worse throughout the day; but next
morning he regained consciousness for an hour, and spoke of making
his will in a day or two--a characteristic touch. He soon relapsed,
however, and rapidly sinking, died at two o'clock in the afternoon
of Wednesday, 14th August, 1751. So the end for which, trampling
upon the common instincts of her kind and hardening her heart
against the cry of Nature, she had so persistently and horribly
striven, was at last attained--with what contentment to "The Fair
Parricide," in her guarded chamber, may be left to the speculation
of the curious. The servants had access to their mistress's room.
That afternoon Miss Blandy asked Robert Harman, the footman, to go
away with her immediately--to France, says one account--and offered
him £500 if he would do so. He refused. At night, by her request,
the cook, Betty Binfield, sat up with her. "Betty, will you go away
with me?" she cried, so soon as they were alone. "If you will go to
the Lion or the Bell and hire a post-chaise, I will give you fifteen
guineas when you get into it, and ten guineas more when we come to
London!" "Where will you go--into the North?" inquired the cautious
cook; "Shall you go by sea?" and learning that the proposed
excursion would include a voyage, Betty, being, as appears, a bad
sailor, declined the offer. Her mistress then "burst into laughter,"
and said she was only joking! In the _Narrative_, written after her
condemnation, Mary boldly denies that these significant incidents
occurred; in her more elaborate _Account_ she makes no reference to
the subject. Those who saw her at this time testify to her extreme
anxiety regarding her own situation, but say she showed no sign of
sorrow, compassion, or remorse for her father's death.

The person charged with the duty of warding Mary in her chamber was
Edward Herne, parish clerk of Henley, who some twelve years before
had been employed in Mr. Blandy's office, and had since remained on
intimate terms with the family. It would appear, from an allusion in
a contemporary tract, that Herne was that "Mr. H----" whose
pretensions to the hand of the attorney's daughter had once been
politely rejected. If so, probably he still preserved sufficient of
his former feeling to sympathise with her position and wink at her
escape. Be the fact as it may, at ten o'clock next morning,
Thursday, 15th August, Ned Herne, as Mary names him, leaving his
fair charge unguarded, went off to dig a grave for his old master.
So soon as the coast was clear, Mary, with "nothing on but a
half-sack and petticoat without a hoop," ran out of the house into
the street and over Henley bridge, in a last wild attempt to cheat
her fate. Her distraught air and strange array attracted instant
notice. She was quickly recognised and surrounded by an angry
crowd--for the circumstances of Mr. Blandy's death were now common
knowledge, and the Coroner's jury was to sit that day. Alarmed by
her hostile reception, she sought refuge at the sign of the Angel,
on the other side of the bridge, and Mrs. Davis, the landlady, shut
the door upon the mob. There chanced then to be in the alehouse one
Mr. Lane, who, with his wife, were interested spectators of these
unwonted proceedings. Miss Blandy, having "called for a pint of wine
and a toast," thus addressed the stranger--"Sir, you look like a
gentleman; what do you think they will do to me?" Mr. Lane told her
that she would be committed to the county gaol for trial at the
Assizes, when, if her innocence appeared, she would be acquitted; if
not, she would suffer accordingly. On receiving this cold comfort
Mary "stamped her foot upon the ground," and cried, "Oh, that damned
villain! But why should I blame him? I am more to blame than he, for
I gave it him [her father] and knew the consequence." On
cross-examination at a later stage, the witnesses were unable to
swear whether the word she used was "knew" or "know." The
distinction is obvious; but looking to the other evidence on the
point, it is not of much importance. Mr. Alderman Fisher, a friend
of Mr. Blandy and one of the jury summoned upon the inquest, came to
the Angel and persuaded the fugitive to return. Though the distance
was inconsiderable, Mr. Fisher had to convey her in a "close"
post-chaise "to preserve her from the resentment of the populace."
Welcomed home by the sergeant and mace-bearer sent by the
Corporation of Henley to take her in charge, Mary asked Mr. Fisher
how it would go with her. He told her, "very hard," unless she could
support her story by the production of Cranstoun's letters. "Dear
Mr. Fisher," said she, "I am afraid I have burnt some that would
have brought him to justice. My honour to him will prove my ruin."
If the letters afforded sufficient proof of Cranstoun's criminous
intent, it hardly appears how the fact rhymes to Mary's innocence.

That day a post-mortem examination of Mr. Blandy's remains was made
by Dr. Addington and others, and in the afternoon "at the house of
John Gale, Richard Miles, Gent., Mayor and Coroner of the said
town," opened his inquiry into the cause of death. An account of the
proceedings at the inquest is printed in the Appendix. The medical
witnesses examined were Drs. Addington and Lewis; Mr. Nicholson,
surgeon in Henley; and the apothecary, Mr. Norton, who severally
spoke to the symptoms exhibited by the deceased during life, the
appearances presented by his body, and the result of the analysis of
the powder. They were of opinion that Mr. Blandy died of poison, and
that the powder was a poison capable of causing his death. The
maids, Gunnell and Binfield, Harman the footman, and Mary's old
flame, Ned Herne, were the other witnesses whose depositions were
taken. Having heard the evidence, the jury found that Francis Blandy
was poisoned, and that Mary Blandy "did poison and murder" him; and
on Friday, 16th August, the mayor and coroner issued to the
constables his warrant to convey the prisoner to the county gaol of
Oxford, there to be detained until discharged by due course of law.
That night Mr. Blandy's body was buried in the parish church at
Henley. None of his relatives were present, Norton, his apothecary;
Littleton, his clerk; and Harman, his footman, being the only
mourners.

Miss Blandy was not removed to Oxford Castle till the following day,
to enable her to make the arrangements necessary for a lengthy
visit. By her request, one Mrs. Dean, a former servant of the
family, accompanied her as her maid. Her tea caddy--"the cannisters
were all most full of fine Hyson"--was not forgotten. At four
o'clock on Saturday morning the ladies, attended by two constables,
set out "very privately" in a landau and four, and, eluding the
attention of the mob, reached Oxford about eleven. Mary's first
question on arriving at the gaol was, "Am I to be fettered?" and,
learning that she would not be put in irons so long as she behaved
well, she remarked, "I have wore them all this morning in my mind in
the coach." At first, we are told, "her imprisonment was indeed
rather like a retirement from the world than the confinement of a
criminal." She had her maid to attend her, the best, apartments in
the keeper's house were placed at her disposal, she drank tea--her
favourite Hyson--twice a day, walked at her pleasure in the keeper's
garden, and of an evening enjoyed her game of cards. Her privacy was
strictly respected; no one was allowed to "see her without her
consent," though very extraordinary sums were daily offered for that
purpose. What treatment more considerate could a sensitive
gentlewoman desire? But the rude breath of the outer world was not
so easily excluded. One day the interesting prisoner learned from a
visitor the startling news that her father's fortune, of which, as
he had left no will, she was sole heiress, had been found to amount
to less than four thousand pounds! With what feelings would she
recall the old attorney's boastful references to her £10,000 dower,
the fame of which had first attracted her "lover," Cranstoun, and so
led to results already sufficiently regrettable, the end of which
she shuddered to foresee. How passionately the fierce woman must
have cursed the irony of her fate! But to this mental torment were
soon to be added physical discomfort and indignity. A rumour reached
the authorities in London that a scheme was afoot to effect her
rescue. On Friday, 25th October, the Secretary of State having
instructed the Sheriff of the county "to take more particular care
of her," the felon's fetters she had before feared were riveted upon
her slender ankles; and there was an end to the daily walks amid the
pleasant alleys of the keeper's garden. This broad hint as to her
real position induced a different state of mind. The chapel
services, hitherto somewhat neglected, were substituted for the
mundane pastimes of tea-drinkings and cards, and the prison
chaplain, the Rev. John Swinton, became her only visitor. To the
pious attentions of that gentleman she may now be left while we see
what happened beyond the narrow circuit of her cell.

We are enabled to throw some fresh light upon the doings of the
powers in whose high hands lay the prisoner's life from certain
correspondence, hitherto unpublished, relating to her case. These
documents, here printed for the first time from the original MSS. in
the British Museum and Public Record Office, will be found in the
Appendix. On 27th September, 1751, Lord Chancellor Hardwicke wrote
to the Duke of Newcastle, Secretary of State, advising that, if upon
the examinations there appeared to be sufficient grounds to proceed
against Mary Blandy for her father's murder, the prosecution should
be carried on at the expense of the Crown, an unusual but not
unprecedented practice; and that Mr. Sharpe, Solicitor to the
Treasury, be ordered to take the necessary steps, under direction of
the Attorney-General; otherwise it would be a reproach to the King's
justice should so flagrant a crime escape punishment, as might, if
the prosecution were left in the hands of the prisoner's own
relatives, occur. As it was thought that Susan Gunnell and the old
charwoman, Ann Emmet, material witnesses, "could not long survive
the effects of the poison they partook of," and might "dye" before
the trial, which in ordinary course would not be held until the Lent
Assizes, his lordship suggested that a special commission be sent
into Berkshire to find a bill of indictment there, so that the trial
could be had at the King's Bench Bar within the next term. It
appears from the correspondence that one Richard Lowe, the Mayor of
Henley's messenger, had, shortly after Miss Blandy's committal, been
despatched to Scotland with the view of apprehending the Hon.
William Henry Cranstoun as accessory to the murder. From the address
on Mary's intercepted letter, Cranstoun was believed to be in
Berwick, and Lowe applied to Mr. Carre, the Sheriff-Depute of
Berwickshire, who seems to have made some difficulty in granting a
warrant in terms of the application, though ultimately he did so. By
that time, however, the bird had flown; and Lowe and Carre each
blamed the other for the failure to effect the fugitive's arrest.
His lordship accordingly recommended that the Lord Justice-Clerk of
Scotland be requested to hold an inquiry into the facts. Lord
Hardwicke, in a private letter to the Duke of the same date,
commented on the "extraordinary method" taken to apprehend
Cranstoun, pointing out that a messenger ought to have been sent
with the Secretary of State's warrant, "which runs equally over the
whole kingdom"; _that_ might have been executed with secrecy,
whereas by the course adopted "so many persons must be apprized of
it, that he could hardly fail of getting notice." On receipt of
these letters, Newcastle wrote to Sir Dudley Ryder, the
Attorney-General, that His Majesty would be pleased to give orders
for the prosecution of Mary Blandy, and instructing him to take the
requisite steps for that purpose. The result of the Justice-Clerk's
inquiry, as appears from the further correspondence, was completely
to exonerate Mr. Carre from the charges of negligence and delay made
against him by the Mayor's messenger.

On 4th October the Chancellor wrote to the Secretary regarding a
petition by the "Noblemen and Gentlemen in the Neighbourhood of
Henley-upon-Thames, and the Mayor and principal Magistrates of that
Town, to the Duke of Newcastle," thanking his grace for King
George's "Paternal Goodness" in directing that the prisoner should
be prosecuted at "His Majesty's Expence," stating that no endeavour
would be wanting on their part to render that prosecution
successful, and praying that, in order to bring to justice "the
Wicked Contriver and Instigator of this Villainous Scheme," His
Majesty might be pleased to offer by proclamation a reward for
Cranstoun's apprehension. The signatories included the Mayor and
Rector of Henley, divers county magnates, and also the local
magistrates, Lords Macclesfield and Cadogan, whose "indefatigable
diligence" in getting up the Crown case was specially commended by
Bathurst at the trial. By Lord Hardwicke's instructions the Duke
submitted the petition to the Attorney-General, with the query,
whether it would be advisable to issue such a proclamation? And Sir
Dudley Ryder, while of opinion that the matter was one "of mere
discretion in His Majesty" and generally approving the measure,
thought it probable that the person in question might even then "be
gone beyond sea." Mr. Attorney's conjecture was, as we shall find,
correct.

There is an interesting letter from one Mr. Wise to Mr. Sharpe,
Solicitor to the Treasury, giving us a glimpse of Miss Blandy in
prison. The writer describes a visit paid by him to Oxford Castle
and the condition in which he found her, tells how he impressed upon
the keeper and Mrs. Dean the dire results to themselves of allowing
her to escape, and mentions the annoyance of Parson Swinton, "a
great favourite of Miss Blandy's," at the "freedom" taken with his
name by some anonymous scribbler. This was not the first time that
reverend gentleman had to complain of the "liberty" of the Press, as
we learn from certain curious pamphlets of 1739, from which it would
seem that his reputation had no very sweet savour in contemporary
nostrils. Mr. Sharpe, writing to Mr. Wise on 6th December, alludes
to a threatening letter sent to Betty Binfield, purporting to be
written by Cranstoun, from which it was inferred that the fugitive
was lying concealed "either here in London or in the North." A
similar "menacing letter" signed W.H.C. had been received by Dr.
Lewis on 23rd November, which, like the other, was probably a hoax.
Cranstoun, being then safe in France, would not so commit himself.

The last document of the series, "The Examination of Francis
Gropptty," dated 3rd February, 1752, tells for the first time the
story of the fugitive's escape. This was the man employed by the
Cranstoun family to get their disreputable relative quietly out of
England. The delicate negotiation was conducted by the Rev. Mr. Home,
brother of Lord Home, and a certain Captain Alexander Hamilton. It was
represented to Gropptty, who had "lived with Lord Home several years"
and then "did business for him," that such a service would "very much,
oblige Lord Cranstoun, Lord Home, and all the Family," and that, as
there were no orders to stop Cranstoun at Dover, by complying with
their request he, personally, ran no risk; accordingly he consented
to see the interesting exile as far as Calais. On 2nd September
Captain Hamilton produced Cranstoun at Gropptty's house in Mount
Street. Our old acquaintance characteristically explained that he was
without funds for the journey, having been "rob'd" of his money and
portmanteau on his way to town. Gropptty was induced to purchase for
the traveller "such, necessaries as he wanted," and Captain Hamilton
went to solicit from Lord Ancrum a loan of twenty pounds for expenses.
His lordship having unaccountably refused the advance, the guileless
Gropptty agreed to lend ten guineas upon Captain Hamilton's note
of hand, which, as he in his examination complained, was still
"unsatisfied." He and Cranstoun then set out in a post-chaise for
Dover, where they arrived next morning at nine o'clock. On 4th
September they embarked in the packet for Calais, paying a guinea for
their passage; and Gropptty, having seen his charge safely bestowed in
lodgings "at the Rate of Fifty Livres a Month," returned to London.
Informed of the successful issue of the adventure, the Rev. Mr. Home
evinced a holy joy, and, in the name of his noble kinsman and of Lord
Cranstoun, promised Gropptty a handsome reward for his trouble. That
gentleman, however, said he had acted solely out of gratitude to Lord
Home, and wanted nothing but his outlays; so he made out an "Acct. of
the Expences he had been at," amounting, with the sum advanced by him,
to eighteen pounds, for which Captain Hamilton obligingly gave him a
bill upon my Lord Cranstoun. By a singular coincidence this document
of debt also remained "unsatisfied"; his lordship, after keeping it
for six weeks, "returned it unpaid, and the Examt. has not yet recd.
the money"! Thus, in common with all who had any dealings with the
Hon. William Henry Cranstoun, Gropptty in the end got the worse of the
bargain.

While her gallant accomplice, having successfully stolen a march
upon the hangman, was breathing the free air of the French seaport,
Miss Blandy, in her cell in Oxford Castle, was preparing for her
trial. She had at first entrusted her defence to one Mr. Newell, an
attorney of Henley, who had succeeded her late father in the office
of town-clerk; but the lawyer, at one of their consultations,
untactfully expressing astonishment that she should have got herself
into trouble over such "a mean-looking little ugly fellow" as
Cranstoun, his client took umbrage at this observation as reflecting
upon her taste in lovers, dispensed with his further services, and
employed in his stead one Mr. Rivers of Woodstock. From the day of
her arrest all sorts of rumours had been rife regarding so
sensational a case. She had poisoned her mother; she had poisoned
her friend Mrs. Pocock--how and when that lady in fact died we do
not know; she was still in correspondence with Cranstoun; she was
secretly married to the keeper's son, a step to which the
circumstances of their acquaintance left her no alternative; her
fortune was being employed to bribe the authorities; the principal
witnesses against her had been got out of the way; she had
(repeatedly and in divers ways) escaped; finally, as she herself,
with reference to these reports, complained--"It has been said that
I am a wretched drunkard, a prophane swearer, that I never went to
chapel, contemned all holy ordinances, and in short gave myself up
to all kinds of immorality." The depositions of the witnesses before
the coroner were published "by some of the Friends and Relations of
the Family, in order to prevent the Publick from being any longer
imposed on with fictitious Stories," but both Miss Blandy and Mr.
Ford, her counsel, took great exception to this at the trial.
Pamphlets, as we shall presently see, poured from the press, and
even before she appeared at the bar the first instalments of a
formidable library of _Blandyana_, had come into being.

On Monday, 2nd March, 1752, the grand jury for the county of Oxford
found a true bill against Mary Blandy. The Town Hall, where the
Assizes were usually held, was "then rebuilding," and as the
University authorities had refused the use of the Sheldonian
Theatre, the trial was appointed to take place next morning in the
beautiful hall of the Divinity School. Owing to the insertion
overnight--by a mischievous undergraduate or other sympathiser with
the day's heroine--of some obstacle in the keyhole, the door could
not be opened, and the lock had to be forced, which delayed the
proceedings for an hour. The judges meanwhile returned to their
lodgings. This initial difficulty surmounted, at eight o'clock on
Tuesday, 3rd March, Mary Blandy was placed at the bar to answer the
grave charges made against her. There appeared for the Crown the
Hon. Mr. Bathurst and Mr. Serjeant Hayward, assisted by the Hon. Mr.
Barrington and Messrs. Hayes, Nares, and Ambler. The prisoner was
defended by Mr. Ford, with whom were Messrs. Morton and Aston. The
judges were the Hon. Heneage Legge and Sir Sidney Stafford Smythe,
two of the Barons of His Majesty's Court of Exchequer.

As the following pages contain a verbatim reprint of the official
report of the trial, published by permission of the judges, it is
only necessary here briefly to refer to the proceedings. The trial
lasted thirteen hours. It is, says Mr. Ainsworth Mitchell, in his
_Science and the Criminal_, "remarkable as being the first one of
which there is any detailed record, in which convincing scientific
proof of poisoning was given." The indictment charged the prisoner
with the wilful murder of Francis Blandy by administering to him
white arsenic at divers times (1) between 10th November, 1750, and
5th August, 1751, in tea, and (2) between 5th and 14th August, 1751,
in water gruel. The prisoner pleaded not guilty, a jury was duly
sworn, and the indictment having been opened by Mr. Barrington,
Bathurst began his address for the Crown. Though promoted later to
the highest judicial office, he has been described as "the least
efficient Lord Chancellor of the eighteenth century." Lord Campbell,
in his _Lives of the Chancellors_, says that Bathurst's address was
much praised for its eloquence, and "as it certainly contains proof
of good feeling, if not of high talent and refined taste," his
lordship transcribes for the benefit of his readers certain of its
purpler passages. It was deemed worthy, at the time, of publication
in separate form, with highly eulogistic notes, wherein we read that
by its eloquent appeal both judges and counsel "were moved to mourn,
nay, to weep like tenderest infants." The prisoner, however, heard
it dry-eyed, nor will its effect be more melting for the modern
reader. At the outset the learned counsel observed, with reference
to the heinous nature of the crime, that he was not surprised "at
this vast concourse of people collected together," from which it
appears there were few vacant seats that morning in the Divinity
School. Space will not permit us to accompany the future Lord
Chancellor through his "most affecting oration," which presents the
case for the Crown with moderation and fairness, and concludes with
a tribute to the "indefatigable diligence" of the Earl of
Macclesfield and Lord Cadogan "in inquiring into this hidden work of
darkness." He was followed by Serjeant Hayward, who, employing a
more rhetorical and florid style, was probably better appreciated by
the audience, but added little to the jury's knowledge of the facts.
In an "improving" passage he besought "the young gentlemen of this
University," who seem to have been well represented, to guard
against the first insidious approaches of vice. "See here," said he,
"the dreadful consequences of disobedience to a parent."

We need not examine in detail the evidence led for the prosecution;
from the foregoing narrative the reader already knows its main
outlines and may study it at large in the following report. The
Crown case opened with the medical witnesses, Drs. Addington and
Lewis, and Mr. Norton, who clearly established the fact that arsenic
was the cause of Mr. Blandy's death, that arsenic was present in the
remains of his gruel, and that arsenic was the powder which the
prisoner had attempted to destroy. The appearance of Mrs. Mounteney
in the witness-box occasioned the only display of feeling exhibited
by the accused throughout the whole trial. This lady was her
godmother, and as she left the Court after giving her evidence, she
clasped her god-child by the hand, exclaiming "God bless you!" For
the moment Mary's brilliant black eyes filled with tears, but after
drinking a glass of wine and water, she resumed her air of stoical
indifference.

Susan Gunnell, "wore down to a Skelliton" by the effects of her
curiosity, but sufficiently recovered to come into Court, was the
principal witness for the prosecution. In addition to the material
facts which we have before narrated, Susan deposed that the prisoner
often spoke of her father as "an old villain," and wished for his
death, and had complained that she was "very awkward," for, if he
were dead, "she would go to Scotland and live with Lady Cranstoun."
Susan gave her evidence with perfect fairness, and showed no animus
against her former mistress. Equal in importance was the testimony
of Betty Binfield, which, perhaps, is more open to Miss Blandy's
objection as being "inspired with vindictive sentiments." When
communicating to the maids Mrs. Morgan's prophecy regarding the
duration of their master's life, the prisoner, said witness,
expressed herself glad, "for that then she would soon be released
from all her fatigues, and be happy." She was wont to curse her
father, calling him "rascal and villain," and on one occasion had
remarked, "Who would grudge to send an old father to hell for
£10,000?" "Exactly them words," added the scrupulous cook, though in
this instance her zeal had probably got the better of her memory. In
cross-examination Betty was asked whether she had any ill-will
against her mistress. "I always told her I wished her very well,"
was the diplomatic reply. "Did you," continued the prisoner's
counsel, "ever say, 'Damn her for a black bitch! I should be glad to
see her go up the ladder and be hanged'"? but Betty indignantly
denied the utterance of any such ungenteel expressions.

The account given by this witness of the admissions made by her
mistress to Dr. Addington in her presence led to the recall of that
gentleman, who, in his former evidence, had not referred to the
matter. The prisoner's counsel invited Dr. Addington to say that
Miss Blandy's anxiety proceeded solely from concern for her father;
the doctor excused himself from expressing any opinion, but, being
indiscreetly pressed to do so, said that her agitation struck him as
due entirely to fears for herself: he saw no tokens of grief for her
father. On re-examination, it appeared that the doctor had attended
professionally both Susan Gunnell and Ann Emmet; their symptoms, in
his opinion, were those of arsenical poisoning. Alice Emmet was next
called to speak to her mother's illness, the old charwoman herself
being in no condition to come to Court. Littleton, old Blandy's
clerk, gave his evidence with manifest regret, but had to admit that
he frequently heard Miss Blandy curse her parent by the unfilial
names of rogue, villain, and "toothless old dog." Harman, the
footman, to whom Mary had offered the £500 bribe, and Mr. Fisher and
Mr. and Mrs. Lane, who spoke to the incidents at the Angel Inn on
the day of her attempted flight, were the other witnesses examined;
the intercepted letter to Cranstoun was put in, and the Crown case
closed.

According to the practice of the time, the prisoner's counsel, while
allowed to examine their own, and cross-examine the prosecutor's
witnesses, were not permitted to address the jury. Mary Blandy
therefore now rose to make the speech in her own defence. Probably
prepared for her beforehand, it merely enumerates the various
injustices and misrepresentations of which she considered herself
the victim. She made little attempt to refute the damning evidence
against her, and concluded by protesting her innocence of her
father's death; that she thought the powder "an inoffensive thing,"
and gave it to procure his love. In this she was well advised, for
she was shrewd enough to see that upon the question of her knowledge
of the quality and effect of the powder the verdict would turn.

[Illustration: Miss Blandy
(_From a Mezzotint by T. Ryley after L. Wilson, in the Collection of
Mr. A.M. Broadley_.)]

Eight witnesses were called for the defence. Ann James, who washed
for the family, stated that before Mr. Blandy's illness there was "a
difference between Elizabeth Binfield and Miss Blandy, and Binfield
was to go away." After Mary's removal to Oxford gaol (Saturday, 17th
August), the witness heard Betty one day in the kitchen make use of
the unparliamentary language already quoted. Mary Banks deposed that
she was present at the time, and heard the words spoken. "It was the
night Mr. Blandy was opened" (Thursday, 15th August); she was sure
of that; Miss Blandy was then in the house. Betty Binfield, recalled
and confronted with this evidence, persisted in her denial, but
admitted the existence of "a little quarrel" with her mistress.
Edward Herne, Mary's old admirer, gave her a high character as an
affectionate, dutiful daughter. He was in the house as often as four
times a week and never heard her swear an oath or speak a
disrespectful word of her father. In cross-examination the witness
admitted that in August, 1750, Miss Blandy told him that Cranstoun
had put powder in her father's tea. He had visited her in prison,
and on one occasion, a report having reached her that "the Captain
was taken," she wrung her hands and said, "I hope in God it is true,
that he may be brought to justice as well as I, and that he may
suffer the punishment due to his crime, as I shall do for mine."
Here for the first time the prisoner intervened. Her questions were
directed to bring out that she had told Herne on the occasion
mentioned that no "damage" resulted upon Cranstoun's use of the
powder, from which fact she inferred its effects harmless, and that
the "suffering" spoken of by her had reference to her imprisonment,
though guiltless. For the rest, Thomas Cawley and Thomas Staverton,
friends of Mr. Blandy for upwards of twenty years, spoke to the
happy relations which to their knowledge subsisted between father
and daughter. On her last visit to Staverton's house, Mary had
remarked that, although her father "had many wives laid out for
him," he would not marry till she was "settled." Mrs. Davis, the
landlady of the Angel, and Robert Stoke, the officer who took the
prisoner into custody, said that Miss Blandy did not then appear to
them to be attempting night. This concluded the exculpatory
evidence. For the defence, Mr. Ford protested against the
"unjustifiable and illegal methods" used to prejudice his client,
such as the publication of the proceedings at the inquest, and,
particularly, the "very scandalous reports" concerning her,
circulated since her commitment, to refute which he proposed to call
"the reverend gentleman who had attended her," Parson Swinton. The
Court, however, held that there was no need to do so, as the jury
would entirely disregard anything not deposed to in Court. Mr.
Bathurst replying for the Crown, maintained that it was proved to
demonstration that Francis Blandy died of poison, put in his gruel
upon the 5th of August by the prisoner's hand, as appeared not only
from her own confession, but from all the evidence adduced. "Examine
then, gentlemen," said the learned counsel, "whether it is possible
she could do it ignorantly." In view of the great affection with
which it was proved the dying man behaved to her, the prisoner's
assertion that she gave him the powder "to make him love her" was
incredible. She knew what effects the poisoned gruel produced upon
him on the Monday and Tuesday, yet she would have given him more of
it on the Wednesday. Having pointed out that, when she must have
known the nature of the powder, she endeavoured to destroy it,
instead of telling the physicians what she had given her father,
which might have been the means of saving his life, counsel
commented on the terms of the intercepted letter to Cranstoun as
wholly inconsistent with her innocence. Further, he remarked on the
contradiction as to dates in the evidence of the witnesses who
reported Betty Binfield's forcible phrase, which, he contended, was
in fact never uttered by her. Finally, he endorsed the censure of
the prisoner's counsel upon the spreaders of the scandalous reports,
which he asked the jury totally to disregard. On the conclusion of
Bathurst's reply, the prisoner made the following statement:--"It is
said I gave it [the powder] my father to make him fond of me: there
was no occasion for that--but to make him fond of Cranstoun."

Mr. Baron Legge then proceeded to charge the jury. The manner in
which his lordship reviewed the evidence and his exposition of its
import and effect, indeed his whole conduct of the trial, have been
well described as affording a favourable impression of his ability,
impartiality, and humanity. He proceeded in the good old fashion,
going carefully over the whole ground of the evidence, of which his
notes appear to have been excellent; and after some general remarks
upon the atrocity of the crime charged, and the nature and weight of
circumstantial evidence--"more convincing and satisfactory than any
other kind of evidence, because facts cannot lie"--observed that it
was undeniable that Mr. Blandy died by poison administered to him by
the prisoner at the bar: "What you are to try is reduced to this
single question, whether the prisoner, at the time she gave it to
her father, knew that it was poison, and what effect it would have?"
If they believed that she did know, they must find her guilty; if,
in view of her general character, the evidence led for the defence,
and what she herself had said, they were not satisfied that she
knew, then they would acquit her. The jury, without retiring,
consulted for five minutes and returned a verdict of guilty. Mr.
Baron Legge, having in dignified and moving terms exhorted the
unhappy woman to repentance, then pronounced the inevitable sentence
of the law--"That you are to be carried to the place of execution
and there hanged by the neck until you are dead; and may God, of His
infinite mercy, receive your soul."

It was nine o'clock at night; for thirteen mortal hours Mary Blandy
had watched unflinchingly the "interesting game played by counsel
with her life for stakes"; the "game" was over, and hers was the
losing side; yet no sign of fear or agitation was manifested by that
strange woman as she rose for the last time to address her judge.
"My lord," said she, "as your lordship has been so good to show so
much candour and impartiality in the course of my trial, I have one
favour more to beg; which is, that your lordship would please to
allow me a little time till I can settle my affairs and make my
peace with God"; to which Mr. Baron Legge feelingly replied, "To be
sure, you shall have a proper time allowed you." So, amid the tense
stillness of the crowded "house," the curtain fell upon the great
fourth act of the tragedy of "The Fair Parricide."

On leaving the hall to be taken back to prison, Mary Blandy, we
read, "stepped into the Coach with as little Concern as if she had
been going to a Ball"--the eighteenth century reporter anticipating
by a hundred years his journalistic successor's phrase as to the
demeanour of Madeleine Smith in similar trying circumstances. The
result of the trial had preceded her to Oxford Castle, where she
found the keeper's family "in some Disorder, the Children being all
in Tears" at the fatal news. "Don't mind it," said their indomitable
guest, "What does it signify? I am very hungry; pray, let me have
something for supper as speedily as possible"; and our reporter
proceeds to spoil his admirable picture by condescending upon
"Mutton Chops and an Apple Pye."

The six weeks allowed her to prepare for death were all too short for
the correspondence and literary labours in which she presently became
involved. On 7th March "a Reverend Divine of Henley-upon-Thames,"
probably, from other evidence, the Rev. William Stockwood, rector of
the parish, addressed to her a letter, exhorting her to confession and
repentance. To this Miss Blandy replied on the 9th, maintaining that
she had acted innocently. "There is an Account," she tells him, "as
well as I was able to write, which I sent to my Uncle in London, that
I here send you." Copies of these letters, and of the narrative
referred to, are printed in the Appendix. She sends her "tenderest
wishes" to her god-mother, Mrs. Mounteney, and trusts that she will be
able to "serve" her with the Bishop of Winchester, apparently in the
matter of a reprieve, of which Mary is said to have had good hope, by
reason that she had once the honour of dancing with the late Prince of
Wales--"Fred, who was alive and is dead." "Pray comfort poor Ned
Herne," she writes, "and tell him I have the same friendship for him
as ever." She asks that her letter and its enclosure be returned, as,
being in her own handwriting, they may be of service to her character
after her death. The object of this request was speedily apparent; on
20th March the whole documents were published under the title of _A
Letter from a Clergyman, to Miss Mary Blandy, &c._, with a note by the
publisher intimating that, for the satisfaction of the public, the
original MS. was left with him. The fair authoress having thus fired
the first shot, a fusilade of pamphlets began--the spent bullets are
collected in the Bibliography--which, for volume and verbosity, is
entitled to honourable mention in the annals of tractarian strife. _An
Answer to Miss Blandy's Narrative_ quickly followed upon the other
side, in which, it is claimed, "all the Arguments she has advanc'd in
Justification of her Innocence are fully refuted, and her Guilt
clearly and undeniably prov'd." This was promptly met by _The Case of
Miss Blandy considered, as a Daughter, as a Gentlewoman, and as a
Christian_, with particular reference to her own _Narrative_, the
author of which is better versed in classical analogies than in the
facts of the case. Mary herself mentions a pamphlet, which she cites
as _The Life of Miss Mary Blandy_, and attributes to "a French usher."
This may have been one of the 1751 tracts containing accounts "of that
most horrid Parricide," the title of which she deemed too indelicate
for exact citation, or, perhaps, an earlier edition of _A Genuine and
Impartial Account of the Life of Miss Mary Blandy_, &c., the copy of
which in the Editor's possession, including an account of the
execution, was published on 9th April, three days after the completion
of that ceremony.

The last literary effort of Mary Blandy was an expansion of her
_Narrative_, re-written in more detail and at much greater length,
the revised version appearing on 18th April under the title of _Miss
Mary Blandy's Own Account of the Affair between her and Mr.
Cranstoun_, "from the commencement of their Acquaintance in the year
1746 to the Death of her Father in August, 1751, with all the
Circumstances leading to that unhappy Event." This ingenious, rather
than ingenuous, compilation was, it is said, prepared with the
assistance of Parson Swinton, who had some previous experience of
pamphleteering on his own account in 1739. Mr. Horace Bleackley has
happily described it as "The most famous apologia in criminal
literature," and as such it is reprinted in the present volume. Even
this _tour de force_ failed to convince a sceptical world, and on
15th April was published _A Candid Appeal to the Publick_ concerning
her case, by "a Gentleman of Oxford," wherein "All the ridiculous
and false Assertions" contained in Miss Blandy's _Own Account_ "are
exploded, and the Whole of that Mysterious Affair set in a True
Light." But by this time the fair disputant was beyond the reach of
controversy, and the Oxford gentleman had it all his own way; though
the pamphleteers kept the discussion alive a year longer than its
subject.

An instructive feature of Mary's literary activities during her last
days is her correspondence with Elizabeth Jeffries. "That unsavoury
person" was, with her paramour, John Swan, convicted at Chelmsford
Assizes on 12th March, 1752, of the murder at Walthamstow, on 3rd
July, of one Joseph Jeffries, respectively uncle and master to his
slayers. Elizabeth induced John to kill the old gentleman, who,
aware of their intrigue, had threatened, as the Crown counsel neatly
phrased it, "to alter his will, if she did not alter her conduct."
This unpleasant case, as was, perhaps, in the circumstances,
natural, attracted the attention of Miss Blandy. She read with much
interest the report of the trial. "It is barbarous," was her
comment--for, in truth, the murder was a sordid business, and sadly
lacking in "style"--"but I am sorry for her, and hope she will have
a good divine to attend her in her last moments, if possible a
second Swinton, for, poor unhappy girl, I pity her." These
sentiments shocked a lady visitor then present, who, expressing the
opinion that all such inhuman wretches should suffer as they
deserved, withdrew in dudgeon. Mary smilingly remarked, "I can't
bear with these over-virtuous women. I believe if ever the devil
picks a bone, it is one of theirs!" But the murderess of Walthamstow
had somehow struck her fancy, and she wrote to her fellow-convict to
express her sympathy. That young lady suitably replied, and the
ensuing correspondence (7th January-19th March, 1752), published
under the title of _Genuine Letters between Miss Blandy and Miss
Jeffries_, if we may believe the description, is highly remarkable.
At first Elizabeth asserted her innocence as stoutly as did Mary
herself, but afterwards she acknowledged her guilt. Whereupon Mary,
more in sorrow than in anger, wrote to her on 16th March for the
last time. "Your deceiving of me was a small crime; it was deceiving
yourself: for no retreat, tho' ever so pleasant, no diversions, no
company, no, not Heaven itself, could have made you happy with those
crimes unrepented of in your breast." So, with the promise to be "a
suitor for her at the Throne of Mercy," Miss Blandy intimated that
the correspondence must close; and on the 28th Miss Jeffries duly
paid the penalty of her crime.

In _A Book of Scoundrels_, that improving and delightful work, Mr.
Charles Whibley has, well observed: "A stern test of artistry is the
gallows. Perfect behaviour at an enforced and public scrutiny may
properly be esteemed an effect of talent--an effect which has not
too often been rehearsed." This high standard, the hall-mark of the
artist in crime, Mary Blandy admittedly attained. The execution,
originally fixed for Saturday, 4th April, was postponed until
Monday, the 6th, by request of the University authorities, who
represented that to conduct such a ceremony during Holy Week "would
be improper and unprecedented." The night before her end the doomed
woman asked to see the scene of the morrow's tragedy, and looked out
from one of the upper windows upon the gibbet, "opposite the door of
the gaol, and made by laying a poll across upon the arms of two
trees"--in her case "the fatal tree" had a new and very real
significance; then she turned away, remarking only that it was "very
high." At nine o'clock on Monday morning, attended by Parson
Swinton, and "dress'd in a black crape sack, with her arms and hands
ty'd with black paduasoy ribbons," Mary Blandy was led out to her
death. About the two trees with, their ominous "poll" a crowd of
silent spectators was assembled on the Castle Green, to whom, in
accordance with the etiquette of the day, she made her "dying
declaration"--to wit, that she was guiltless of her father's blood,
though the innocent cause of his death, and that she did not "in the
least contribute" to that of her mother or of Mrs. Pocock. This she
swore upon her salvation; which only shows, says Lord Campbell, who
was convinced of her guilt, "the worthlessness of the dying
declarations of criminals, and the absurdity of the practice of
trying to induce them to confess." We shall not dwell upon the
shocking spectacle--the curious will find a contemporary account in
the Appendix--but one characteristic detail may be mentioned. As she
was climbing the fatal ladder, covered, for the occasion, with black
cloth, she stopped, and addressing the celebrants of that grim
ritual, "Gentlemen," said she, "do not hang me high, for the sake of
decency."

Mary Blandy was but just in time to make so "genteel" an end. That
very year (1752), owing to the alarming increase of murders, an Act
was passed (25 Geo. II. c. 37) "for better preventing the Horrid
Crime of Murder," whereby persons condemned therefor should be
executed on the next day but one after sentence, and their bodies be
given to the Surgeons' Company at their Hall with a view to
dissection, and also, in the discretion of the judge, be hanged in
chains. The first person to benefit by the provisions of the new Act
did so on 1st July. But although Mary Blandy's body escaped these
legal indignities, as neither coffin nor hearse had been prepared
for its reception, it was carried through the crowd on the shoulders
of one of the Sheriff's men, and deposited for some hours in his
house. There suitable arrangements were made, and at one o'clock in
the morning of Tuesday, 7th April, 1752, the body, by her own
request, was buried in the chancel of Henley Parish Church, between
those of her father and mother, when, notwithstanding the untimely
hour, "there was assembled the greatest concourse of people ever
known upon such an occasion." Henley Church has been "restored"
since Mary's day, and there is now no indication of the grave,
which, as the present rector courteously informs the Editor, is
believed to be beneath the organ, in the north choir aisle.

_Apropos_ to Mary Blandy's death, "Elia" has a quaint anecdote of
Samuel Salt, one of the "Old Benchers of the Inner Temple." This
gentleman, notable for his maladroit remarks, was bidden to dine
with a relative of hers (doubtless Mr. Serjeant Stevens) on the day
of the execution--not, one would think, a suitable occasion for
festivity. Salt was warned beforehand by his valet to avoid all
allusion to the subject, and promised to be specially careful.
During the pause preliminary to the announcing of dinner, however,
"he got up, looked out of window, and pulling down his ruffles--an
ordinary motion with him--observed, 'it was a gloomy day,' and
added, 'I suppose Miss Blandy must be hanged by this time.'"

The reader may care to know what became of Cranstoun. That "unspeakable
Scot," it has regretfully to be recorded, was never made amenable to
earthly justice. He was, indeed, the subject of at least four
biographies, but human retribution followed him no further. Extracts
from one of these "Lives" are, for what they are worth, printed in the
Appendix, together with his posthumous _Account of the Poisoning of
the late Mr. Francis Blandy_, a counterblast to Mary's masterpiece.
This tract includes the text of three letters, alleged to have been
written by her to her lover, and dated respectively 30th June, 16th
July, and 1st August, 1751; but as, after his death, all his papers
were, by order of Lord Cranstoun, sealed up and sent to his lordship
in Scotland, who, in the circumstances, was little likely to part with
them, it does not appear how these particular manuscripts came into
the "editor's" possession. But, in that age of literary marvels,
nothing need surprise us: a publisher actually issued as genuine the
_Original Letters to and from Miss Blandy and C---- C----_, though the
fact that Cranstoun's half of the correspondence had been destroyed by
Mary Blandy was then a matter of common knowledge. In all these
pamphlets, Cranstoun, while admitting his complicity in her crime,
with, characteristic gallantry casts most of the blame upon his dead
mistress. For the rest, he seems to have passed the brief remainder of
his days in cheating as many of his fellow-sinners as, in the short
time at his disposal, could reasonably be expected.

A hitherto unpublished letter from Henry Fox at the War Office, to
Mr. Pitt, then Paymaster General, dated 14th March, 1752, is, by
kind permission of Mr. A.M. Broadley, printed in the Appendix.
After referring to Mary's conviction, the writer intimates that
Cranstoun, "a reduc'd first Lieut. of Sir Andrew Agnew's late Regt.
of Marines, now on the British Establishment of Half-Pay, was
charged with contriving the manner of sd. Miss Blandy's Poisoning
her Father and being an Abettor therein; and he having absconded
from the time of her being comitted for the above Fact, I am
commanded to signify to you it is His Majesty's Pleasure that the
sd. Lieutenant Wm. Henry Cranstoune be struck off the sd.
Establishment of Half-Pay, and that you do not issue any Moneys
remaining in your Hands due to the sd. Lieut. Cranstoune." This
shows the view taken by the Government of the part played by
Cranstoun in the tragedy of Henley.

There will also be found in the Appendix an extract from, a letter
from Dunkirk, published in the _London Magazine_ for February, 1753,
containing what appears to be a reliable account of the last days of
Mary Blandy's lover; the particulars given are in general agreement
with those contained in the various "Lives" above mentioned. Obliged
to fly from France, where he had been harboured by one Mrs. Ross,
his kinswoman, whose maiden name of Dunbar he had prudently assumed,
he sought refuge in Flanders. Furnes, "a town belonging to the Queen
of Hungary," had the dubious distinction of being selected by him as
an asylum. There, on 2nd December, 1752, "at the sign of the
Burgundy Cross," after a short illness, accompanied, it is
satisfactory to note, with "great agonies," the Hon. William Henry
Cranstoun finally ceased from troubling in the thirty-ninth year of
his age. His personal belongings, "consisting chiefly of Laced and
Embroidered Waistcoats," were sold to pay his debts. On his deathbed
he was received into the Roman Catholic Church. The occasion of so
notable a conversion was fittingly marked by the magnificence of his
obsequies. "He was buried," we read, "in great solemnity, the
Corporation attending the funeral; and a grand Mass was said over
the corpse in the Cathedral Church, which, was finely illuminated."
The impressive ceremonial would have gratified vainglorious Mr.
Blandy had circumstances permitted his presence.

Some account of the descendants of Cranstoun is given in a letter by
John Riddell, the Scots genealogist, hitherto unpublished, which is
printed in the Appendix. George Cranstoun, Lord Corehouse,
Cranstoun's nephew, was afterwards an eminent Scottish judge.

A word as to the guilt of Mary Blandy and her accomplice, which, in
the opinion of some writers, is not beyond dispute. The question of
motive in such cases is generally a puzzling one, and in the
commission of many murders the end to be gained, always inadequate,
often remains obscure. Barely does the motive--unlike the punishment
which it was the sublime object of Mr. Gilbert's "Mikado" equitably
to adjust--"fit the crime." Mary was well aware that she could not
be Cranstoun's lawful wife, but hers was not a nature to shrink from
the less regular union. Her passion for him was irresistible; she
had ample proof of his chronic infidelity, but, in her blind
infatuation, such "spots" upon the sun of her affection, were
disregarded. She knew that, but for the £10,000 bait, her crafty
lover would surely play her false; her father was sick of the whole
affair, and if she went off with the captain, would doubtless
disinherit her. As for that "honourable" gentleman himself, the
inducement to get possession of her £10,000, the beginning and end
of his connection with the Blandys, sufficiently explains his
purpose. Was not the spirit of his family motto, "Thou shalt want
ere I want," ever his guiding light and principle, and would such a
man so circumstanced hesitate to resort to a crime which he could
induce another to commit and, if necessary, suffer for, while he
himself reaped the benefit in safety? Had he succeeded in securing
both his mistress and her fortune, Mary's last state would, not
improbably, have been worse than her first.

So much for the "motive," which presents little difficulty. Then,
with regard to the question whether, on the assumption of his guilt,
Mary Blandy was the intelligent agent of Cranstoun or his innocent
dupe, no one who has studied the evidence against her can entertain
a reasonable doubt. Apart from the threatening and abusive language
which she applied to her father, her whole attitude towards his last
illness shows how false were her subsequent professions of
affection. She herself has disposed of the suggestion that she
really believed in the love-compelling properties of the magic
powder, though such a belief was not inconceivable, as appears from
the contemporary advertisement of a "Love Philtre," of which a copy
is printed in the Appendix. She told her dying father that if he
were injured by the powder, she was not to blame, as "it was given
her with another intent." What that "intent" was she did not then
explain, but later she informed Dr. Addington that it was to "make
him [her father] kind" to Cranstoun and herself. In the speech which
she delivered in her own defence she said, "I gave it to procure his
love"; and again, on the conclusion of Bathurst's reply, "It is said
I gave it my father to make him fond of me: there was no occasion
for that--but to make him fond of Cranstoun." In her _Narrative_ she
repeats this statement; but in her _Own Account_, written and
revised by herself, she says, "I gave it to my poor father innocent
of the effects it afterwards produced, God knows; _not so stupid as
to believe it would have that desired, to make him kind to us_; but
in obedience to Mr. Cranstoun, who ever seemed superstitious to the
last degree." Here we have an entirely fresh (if no less false)
reason assigned for the exhibition of the wise woman's drug; only,
of course, another lie, but one which, disposes of her previous
defence. Of the true qualities of the powder she had ample proof;
she warned the maid that the gruel "might do for her," she saw its
virulent effects upon Gunnell and Emmet, as well as on her father
from its first administration, while her concealment of its use from
the physician, and her destruction of the remanent portion, are
equally incompatible with belief either in its innocence or her own.
Finally, her burning of Cranstoun's letters, which, if her story was
true, were her only means of confirming it, her attempts to bribe
the servants, and her statements to Fisher and the Lanes at the
Angel, afford, in Mr. Baron Legge's phrase, "a violent presumption"
of her guilt.

Cranstoun, even at the time, did not lack apologists, who held that
Miss Blandy, herself the solo criminal, cunningly sought to involve
her guileless lover in order to lessen her own guilt. This view has
been endorsed by later authorities. Anderson, in his _Scottish
Nation_, remarks, "There does not appear to have been any grounds
for supposing that the captain was in any way accessory to the
murder"; and Mr. T.F. Henderson, in his article on Cranstoun in the
_Dictionary of National Biography_, observes, "Apart from her [Mary
Blandy's] statement there was nothing to connect him with the
murder." These writers seem to have overlooked the following
important facts:--The letter written by Cranstoun to Mary, read by
Bathurst in his opening speech, the terms of which plainly prove the
writer's complicity; and the packet rescued from the fire, bearing
in his autograph the words, "The powder to clean the pebbles with,"
which, when we remember the nature of its contents, leaves small
doubt of the sender's guilt. "A supposition," says Mr. Bleackley,
"that does not explain [these] two damning circumstances must be
baseless." The nocturnal manifestations experienced by Cranstoun,
and interpreted by his friend Mrs. Morgan as presaging Mr. Blandy's
death, must also be explained. Further, it would be interesting to
know how the defenders of Cranstoun account for the warning given
him by Mary in the intercepted letter--"Lest any accident should
happen to your letters, _take care what you write_." That this was
part of a subtle scheme to inculpate her lover will, in the
circumstances, hardly be maintained. As Mr. Andrew Lang once
remarked of a hypothesis equally untenable, "That cock won't fight."
Would Cranstoun have fled as he did from justice, and gone into
voluntary exile for life, when, if innocent, he had only to produce
Mary's letters to him in proof of the blameless character of their
correspondence? and why, when on his death those letters passed into
Lord Cranstoun's custody, did not that nobleman publish them in
vindication of his brother's honour, as he was directly challenged
to do by a pamphleteer of the day? The Crown authorities, at any
rate, as we have seen, did not share the opinion expressed by the
writers above cited; and from what was said by Mr. Justice Buller,
in the case of _George Barrington_ (Mich. 30 Geo. III., reported
Term Rep. 499), it appears that Cranstoun, for his concern in the
murder of Mr. Blandy, was prosecuted to outlawry, the learned judge
observing with reference to the form adopted on that occasion, "It
was natural to suppose groat care had been taken in settling it,
because some of the most eminent gentlemen in the profession were
employed in it."

  "Alas! the record of her page will tell
  That one thus madden'd, lov'd, and guilty fell.
  Who hath not heard of Blandy's fatal fame,
  Deplor'd her fate, and sorrow'd o'er her shame?"

Thus the author of _Henley_: A Poem (Hickman & Stapledon, 1827);
and, indeed, the frequent references to the case in the "literary
remains" of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries bear witness to
the justice of that poetic observation.

The inimitable _Letters_ of Horace Walpole contain, as might be
expected, more than one mention of this _cause célèbre_. Writing on
23rd March, 1752, to Horace Mann, he says, "There are two wretched
women that just now are as much talked of [as the two Miss
Gunnings], a Miss Jefferies and a Miss Blandy; the one condemned for
murdering her uncle, the other her father. Both their stories have
horrid circumstances; the first having been debauched by her uncle;
the other had so tender a parent, that his whole concern while he
was expiring, and knew her for his murderess, was to save her life.
It is shocking to think what shambles this country is grown!
Seventeen were executed this morning, after having murdered the
turnkey on Friday night, and almost forced open Newgate. One is
forced to travel, even at noon, as if one was going to battle." And
again, on 13th May, "Miss Blandy died with a coolness of courage
that is astonishing, and denying the fact, which has made a kind of
party in her favour; as if a woman who would not stick at parricide
would scruple a lie! We have made a law for immediate execution on
conviction of murder: it will appear extraordinary to me if it has
any effect; for I can't help believing that the terrible part of
death must be the preparation for it." The "law" regarding summary
executions to which Walpole refers is the Act already mentioned. To
Henry Seymour Conway, on 23rd June, he writes, "Since the two Misses
[Blandy and Jefferies] were hanged, and the two Misses [the
beautiful Gunnings] were married, there is nothing at all talked
of." On 28th August he writes to George Montague, "I have since been
with Mr. Conway at Park Place, where I saw the individual Mr.
Cooper, a banker, and lord of the manor of Henley, who had those two
extraordinary forfeitures from the executions of the Misses Blandy
and Jefferies, two fields from the former, and a malthouse from the
latter. I had scarce credited the story, and was pleased to hear it
confirmed by the very person: though it was not quite so remarkable
as it was reported, for both forfeitures were in the same manor."
This circumstance is noted in the _Annual Register_ for 1768, in
connection with the death of Mr. Cooper, at the age of eighty. From
the following references it would appear that the empty old house in
Hart Street had acquired a sinister reputation. On 8th November
Walpole writes to Conway, "Have the Coopers seen Miss Blandy's
ghost, or have they made Mr. Cranston poison a dozen or two more
private gentlewomen?"--the allusion being to the deaths of Mrs.
Blandy and Mrs. Pocock; and again, on 4th August, 1753, to John
Chute. "The town of Henley has been extremely disturbed with an
engagement between the ghosts of Miss Blandy and her father, which
continued so violent, that some bold persons, to prevent further
bloodshed broke in, and found it was two jackasses which had got
into the kitchen."

[Illustration: Miss Mary Blandy in Oxford Castle Gaol
(_From an Engraving in the British Museum_.)]

Walpole barely exaggerates the wholesale legal butcheries by which
the streets of London were then disgraced. "Many cartloads of our
fellow-creatures are once in six weeks carried to slaughter," says
Henry Fielding, in his _Enquiry_ (1751); and well has Mr. Whibley
described the period as "Newgate's golden age." As for Tyburn Tree,
we read in its _Annals_, for example, "1752. July 13. Eleven
executed at Tyburn."

We can only glance at one or two further instances of the diffusion
of "Blandy's fatal fame." None of the varied forms of the _Newgate
Calendar_--that criminous _Who's Who?_--fails to accord her suitable
if inaccurate notice. With other letter-writers of the time than the
genial Horace the case forms a topical subject. James Granger
reports to a reverend correspondent that "the principal subject of
conversation in these parts is the tragical affair transacted at
Henley.... It is supposed, as there is no direct and absolute proof
that she was guilty, and her friends are rich and have great
interest, that she will escape punishment." To Mrs. Delany, writing
the day after the execution, the popular heroine "appeared very
guilty by her trial," but we learn that Lady Huntingdon had written
a letter to Miss Blandy after her conviction. On 22nd April, 1752,
Miss Talbot writes to Mrs. Carter, who thought Mary had been "too
severely judged," that "her hardiness in guilt" was shocking to
think of. "Let me tell you one fact that young Goosetree, the
lawyer, told to the Bishop of Gloucester," she writes, with
reference to Miss Blandy's repeated statement that she never
believed her father a rich man. "This Goosetree visited her in jail
as an old acquaintance. She expressed to him great amazement at her
father's being no richer, and said she had no notion but he must
have been worth £10,000. Mr. Goosetree prudently told her the less
she said about that the better, and she never said it afterwards,
but the contrary." Miss Talbot adds that certain letters in Lord
Macclesfield's hands "falsify others of her affirmations." By 5th
May, 1753, Mrs. Delany writes, "We are now very full of talk about
Eliza Canning."

As time goes on the tragedy of Henley, though gradually becoming a
tradition, is still susceptible of current allusion. John Wilkes,
writing from Bath to his daughter on 3rd January, 1779, regarding a
lady of their acquaintance who proposed to keep house for a certain
doctor, remarks "that he is sure it could not have lasted long, for
she would have poisoned him, as Miss Blandy did her father, and
forged a will in her own favour"; but Tate Wilkinson, in his
_Memoirs_, observes, "Elizabeth Canning, Mary Squires, the gipsy,
and Miss Blandy were such universal topics in 1752 that you would
have supposed it the business of mankind to talk only of them; yet
now, in 1790, ask a young man of twenty-five or thirty a question
relative to these extraordinary personages, and he will be puzzled
to answer, and will say, 'What mean you by enquiring? I do not
understand you,'" So quickly had the "smarts" of the new generation
forgotten the "fair Blandy" of their fathers' toasts. To make an end
of such quotations, which might indefinitely be multiplied, we shall
only refer the reader to Lady Russell's _Three Generations of
Fascinating Women_ (London: 1901), for good reading _passim_, and
with special reference to her account of the interest taken in the
case by Lady Ailesbury of Park Place, who "was related to the
instigator of the crime," and, believing in Mary's innocence, used
all her influence to obtain a pardon. To Mr. Horace Bleackley's
brilliant study of the case we have already in the Preface referred.

It may, in closing, be worth while to remind the student of such
matters that the year with which we have had so much concern was in
other respects an important one in the annals of crime. On 14th May,
1752, the "Red Fox," Glenure, fell by an assassin's bullet in the
wood of Lettermore, which fact resulted in the hanging of a
guiltless gentleman and, in after years, more happily inspired an
immortal tale; while on 1st January, 1753, occurred the
disappearance of Elizabeth Canning, that bewildering damsel whose
mission it was to baffle her contemporaries and to set at nought the
skill of subsequent inquirers.

Well, we have learned all that history and tradition has to tell us
about Mary Blandy; but what do we really know of that sombre soul
that sinned and suffered and passed to its appointed place so long
ago? A few "facts," some "circumstances"--which, if we may believe
the dictum of Mr. Baron Legge, cannot lie; and yet she remains for
us dark and inscrutable as in her portrait, where she sits calmly in
her cell, preparing her false _Account_ for the misleading of future
generations. Like her French "parallel," Marie-Madeleine de
Brinvilliers, like that other Madeleine of Scottish fame, she leaves
us but a catalogue of ambiguous acts; her secret is still her own.
If only she had been the creature of some great novelist's fancy,
how intimately should we then have known all that is hidden from us
now; imagine her made visible for us through the exquisite medium of
Mr. Henry James's incomparable art--the subtle individual threads
all cunningly combined, the pattern wondrously wrought, the colours
delicately and exactly shaded, until, in the rich texture of the
finished tapestry, the figure of the woman as she lived stood
perfectly revealed.




Leading Dates In the Blandy Case.


1744.

  22 May--Marriage of Cranstoun and Anne Murray.

1745.

  19 February--Birth of their daughter.

1746.

  August--Cranstoun meets Mary Blandy at Lord Mark Kerr's.

  October--Mrs. Cranstoun takes proceedings in Commissary Court.

1747.

  August--Second meeting of Cranstoun and Mary. Cranstoun visits the
      Blandys and stays six months.

1748.

  January--Cranstoun returns to London.

  1 March--Cranstoun's marriage upheld by the Commissary Court.

  May--Mrs. Blandy's illness at Turville Court. Cranstoun pays a
      second six-months' visit to the Blandys.

  December--Cranstoun's regiment "broke" at Southampton. He returns
      to London.

1749.

  March--Mrs. Blandy and Mary visit Mr. Sergeant Stevens in Doctors'
      Commons.

  28 September--Mrs. Blandy taken ill after her return home.

  30 September--Death of Mrs. Blandy.

1750.

  August--Cranstoun returns to Henley. Puts powder in Mr. Blandy's tea.

  October--Cranstoun professes to hear nocturnal music, &c.

  November--Cranstoun leaves Henley for the last time.

1751.

  April--Cranstoun writes from Scotland to Mary that he has seen Mrs.
      Morgan and will send powder with pebbles.

  June--Powder and pebbles received by Mary, with directions to put
      the powder in tea. Mr. Blandy becomes unwell. Gunnell and Emmet
      ill after drinking his tea.

  18 July--Cranstoun writes to Mary suggesting she should put the
      powder in gruel.

  4 August--Gunnell makes gruel in pan by Mary's orders.

  5 August--Mary seen stirring gruel in pantry.  Mr. Blandy taken
      seriously ill in the night.

  6 August--Mr. Norton, the apothecary, called in. Gruel warmed
      for Mr. Blandy's supper.

  7 August--Emmet eats what was left the night before, and is taken
      ill. Mary orders the remains of the gruel to be warmed. Gunnell
      and Binfield notice white sediment in pan and lock it up.

  8 August--Gunnell and Binfield take pan to Mrs. Mounteney, who
      delivers it to Mr. Norton.

  9 August--Mr. Stevens, of Fawley, arrives and hears suspicions.

  10 August--Gunnell tells Mr. Blandy of suspicions. Mary burns
      papers and packet. Dr. Addington called in.

  11 August--Pan and packet given to Dr. Addington. He warns Mary.
      Her letter to Cranstoun intercepted.

  12 August--Last interview between Mary and her father.

  13 August--Mr. Blandy worse. Dr. Lewis called in. Mary confined to
      her room.

  14 August--Death of Mr. Blandy. Mary attempts to bribe Harmon and
      Binfield to effect her escape.

  15 August--Flight of Mary. Coroner's inquest. Mary apprehended.

  17 August--Mary removed to Oxford Castle.

  4 September--Cranstoun escapes to Calais.

1752.

  2 March--Grand Jury find a True Bill against Mary Blandy.

  3 March--Trial at Oxford Assizes. Prisoner convicted and sentenced
      to death.

  6 March--Execution of Mary Blandy.

  2 December--Death of Cranstoun.




THE TRIAL

AT THE ASSIZES HELD AT OXFORD FOR THE COUNTY OF OXFORD.

TUESDAY, 3RD MARCH, 1752.


_Judges_--

THE HONOURABLE HENEAGE LEGGE, ESQ., AND SIR SYDNEY STAFFORD SMYTHE,
KNT., Two of the Barons of His Majesty's Court of Exchequer.

_Counsel for the Crown_--

The Honourable Mr. BATHURST.
Mr. Serjeant HAYWARD.
The Honourable Mr. BARRINGTON.
Mr. HAYES.
Mr. NARES.
Mr. AMBLER.

_Counsel for the Prisoner_--

Mr. FORD.
Mr. MORTON.
Mr. ASTON.


The Indictment.

On Monday, the 2nd of March, 1752, a bill of indictment was found by
the grand inquest for the county of Oxford against Mary Blandy,
spinster, for the murder of Francis Blandy, late of the parish of
Henley-upon-Thames, in the said county, gentleman.

On Tuesday, the 3rd of March, 1752, the Court being met, the
prisoner Mary Blandy was set to the bar, when the Court proceeded
thus--

CLERK OF THE ARRAIGNS--Mary Blandy, hold up thy hand. [Which she
did.] You stand indicted by the name of Mary Blandy, late of the
parish of Henley-upon-Thames, in the county of Oxford, spinster,
daughter of Francis Blandy, late of the same place, gentleman,
deceased, for that you, not having the fear of God before your eyes,
but being moved and seduced by the instigation of the devil, and of
your malice aforethought, contriving and intending, him the said
Francis Blandy, your said late father, in his lifetime, to deprive
of his life, and him feloniously to kill and murder on the 10th day
of November, in the twenty-third year of the reign of our sovereign
lord George the Second, now King of Great Britain, and on divers
days and times between the said 10th day of November and the 5th day
of August, in the twenty-fifth year of the reign of His said
Majesty, with force and arms, at the parish of Henley-upon-Thames
aforesaid, in the county aforesaid, did knowingly, wilfully, and
feloniously, and of your malice aforethought, mix and mingle certain
deadly poison, to wit, white arsenic, in certain tea, which had been
at divers times during the time above specified prepared for the use
of the said Francis Blandy to be drank by him; you, the said Mary,
then and there well knowing that the said tea, with which you did so
mix and mingle the said deadly poison as aforesaid, was then and
there prepared for the use of the said Francis Blandy, with intent
to be then and there administered to him for his drinking the same;
and the said tea with which the said poison was so mixed as
aforesaid, afterwards, to wit, on the said 10th day of November and
on the divers days and times aforesaid, at Henley-upon-Thames
aforesaid, was delivered to the said Francis, to be then and there
drank by him; and the said Francis Blandy, not knowing the said
poison to have been mixed with the said tea, did afterwards, to wit,
on the said 10th day of November and on the said divers days and
times aforesaid, there drink and swallow several quantities of the
said poison so mixed as aforesaid with the said tea; and that you
the said Mary Blandy might more speedily kill and murder the said
Francis Blandy, you the said Mary Blandy, on the said 5th day of
August and at divers other days and times between the said 5th day
of August and the 14th day of August, in the twenty-fifth year of
the reign of our said sovereign lord George the Second, now King of
Great Britain, &c., with force and arms, at the parish of
Henley-upon-Thames aforesaid, in the county aforesaid, did
knowingly, wilfully, feloniously, and of your malice aforethought,
mix and mingle certain deadly poisons, to wit, white arsenic, with
certain water gruel, which had been made and prepared for the use of
your said then father, the said Francis Blandy, to be drank by him,
you the said Mary then and there well knowing that the said water
gruel, with which you did so mix and mingle the said deadly poison
as aforesaid, was then and there made for the use of the said
Francis Blandy, with intent to be then and there administered to him
for his drinking the same; and the same water gruel, with which the
said poison was so mixed as aforesaid, afterwards, to wit, on the
same day and year, at Henley-upon-Thames aforesaid, was delivered to
the said Francis, to be then and there drank by him; and the said
Francis Blandy, not knowing the said poison to have been mixed with
the said water gruel, did afterwards, to wit, on the said 5th day of
August and on the next day following, and on divers other days and
times afterwards, and before the said 14th day of August, there
drink and swallow several quantities of the said poison, so mixed as
aforesaid with the said water gruel, and the said Francis Blandy, of
the poison aforesaid and by the operation thereof, became sick and
greatly distempered in his body, and from the several times
aforesaid until the 14th day of the same month of August, in the
twenty-fifth year aforesaid, at the parish aforesaid, in the county
aforesaid, did languish, on which said 14th day of August, in the
twenty-fifth year aforesaid, the said Francis Blandy, at the parish
aforesaid, in the county aforesaid, of that poison died; and so you,
the said Mary Blandy, him the aforesaid Francis Blandy, at
Henley-upon-Thames aforesaid, in manner and form aforesaid,
feloniously, wilfully, and of your malice aforethought, did poison,
kill, and murder, against the peace of our said lord the King, his
crown and dignity.

CLERK OF THE ARRAIGNS--How sayest thou, Mary Blandy, art thou guilty
of the felony and murder whereof thou standest indicted, or not
guilty?

PRISONER--Not guilty.

CLERK OF THE ARRAIGNS--Culprit, how wilt thou be tried?

PRISONER--By God and my country.

CLERK OF THE ARRAIGNS--God send thee a good deliverance.

CLERK OF THE ARRAIGNS--Cryer, make a proclamation for silence.

CRYER--Oyez, oyez, oyez! My lords the King's justices strictly
charge and command all manner of persons to keep silence, upon pain
of imprisonment.

CRYER--Oyez! You good men, that are impanelled to try between our
sovereign lord the King and the prisoner at the bar, answer to your
names and save your fines.

The jury were called over and appeared.

CLERK OF THE ARRAIGNS--You, the prisoner at the bar, these men which
were last called and do now appear are those who are to pass between
our sovereign lord the King and you upon the trial of your life and
death. If therefore you will challenge them, or any of them, you
must challenge them as they come to the book to be sworn, before
they are sworn; and you shall be heard.

CLERK OF THE ARRAIGNS--Anthony Woodward.

CRYER--Anthony Woodward, look upon the prisoner. You shall well and
truly try and true deliverance make between our sovereign lord the
King and the prisoner at the bar, whom you shall have in charge, and
a true verdict give, according to the evidence. So help you God.

And the same oath was administered to the rest (which were sworn),
and their names are as follow:--

Anthony Woodward, sworn; Charles Harrison, sworn; Samuel George
Glaze, sworn; William Farebrother, sworn; William Haynes, sworn;
Thomas Crutch, sworn; Henry Swell, challenged; John Clarke, sworn;
William Read, challenged; Harford Dobson, challenged; William Stone,
challenged; William Hawkins, sworn; John Hayes, the elder, sworn;
Samuel Badger, sworn; Samuel Bradley, sworn; William Brooks,
challenged; Joseph Jagger, sworn.

CLERK OF THE ARRAIGNS--Cryer, count these.

Jury--Anthony Woodward, Charles Harrison, Samuel George Glaze,
William Farebrother, William Haynes, Thomas Crutch, John Clarke,
William Hawkins, John Haynes, sen., Samuel Badger, Samuel Bradley,
Joseph Jagger.

CRYER--Gentlemen, are ye all sworn?

CLERK OF THE ARRAIGNS--Cryer, make proclamation.

CRYER--Oyez, oyez, oyez! If any one can inform my lords the King's
justices, the King's serjeant, the King's attorney-general, or this
inquest now to be taken of any treasons, murders, felonies, or
misdemeanours committed or done by the prisoner at the bar let him
come forth and he shall be heard, for the prisoner stands now at the
bar upon her deliverance; and all persons that are bound by
recognisance to give evidence against the prisoner at the bar let
them come forth and give their evidence, or they will forfeit their
recognisances.

CLERK OF THE ARRAIGNS--Mary Blandy, hold up thy hand. Gentlemen of
the jury, look upon the prisoner and hearken to her charge. She
stands indicted by the name of Mary Blandy, of the parish of
Henley-upon-Thames, in the county of Oxford, spinster, daughter of
Francis Blandy, late of the same place, gentleman, deceased, for
that she not having [as in the indictment before set forth]. Upon
this indictment she has been arraigned, and upon her arraignment has
pleaded not guilty, and for her trial has put herself upon God and
her country, which country you are. Your charge therefore is to
inquire whether she be guilty of the felony and murder whereof she
stands indicted, or not guilty. If you find her guilty you shall
inquire what goods or chattels, lands or tenements she had at the
time of the felony committed, or at any time since. If you find her
not guilty you shall inquire whether she fled for the same. If you
find that she did fly for the same you shall inquire of her goods
and chattels as if you had found her guilty. If you find her not
guilty, and that she did not fly for the same, say so, and no more;
and hear your evidence.

The Hon. Mr. Barrington then opened the indictment. After which,


[Sidenote: Mr. Bathurst]

The Hon. Mr. BATHURST[1] spoke as follows:--

May it please your lordships and you gentlemen of the jury, I am
counsel in this case for the King, in whose name and at whose
expense this prosecution is carried on against the prisoner at the
bar, in order to bring her to justice for a crime of so black a dye
that I am not at all surprised at this vast concourse of people
collected together to hear and to see the trial and catastrophe of
so execrable an offender as she is supposed to be.

For, gentlemen, the prisoner at the bar, Miss Mary Blandy, a
gentlewoman by birth and education, stands indicted for no less a
crime than that of murder, and not only for murder, but for the
murder of her own father, and for the murder of a father
passionately fond of her, undertaken with the utmost deliberation,
carried on with an unvaried continuation of intention, and at last
accomplished by a frequent repetition of the baneful dose,
administered with her own hands. A crime so shocking in its own
nature and so aggravated in all its circumstances as will (if she is
proved to be guilty of it) justly render her infamous to the latest
posterity, and make our children's children, when they read the
horrid tale of this day, blush to think that such an inhuman
creature ever had an existence.

I need not, gentlemen, paint to you the heinousness of the crime of
murder. You have but to consult your own breasts, and you will know
it.

Has a murder been committed? Who ever beheld the ghastly corpse of
the murdered innocent weltering in its blood and did not feel his
own blood run slow and cold through all his veins? Has the murderer
escaped? With what eagerness do we pursue? With what zeal do we
apprehend? With what joy do we bring to justice? And when the
dreadful sentence of death is pronounced upon him, everybody hears
it with satisfaction, and acknowledges the justice of the divine
denunciation that, "By whom man's blood is shed, by man shall his
blood be shed."

If this, then, is the case of every common murderer, what will be
thought of one who has murdered her own father? who has designedly
done the greatest of all human injuries to him from whom she
received the first and greatest of all human benefits? who has
wickedly taken away his life to whom she stands indebted for life?
who has deliberately destroyed, in his old age, him by whose care
and tenderness she was protected in her helpless infancy? who has
impiously shut her ears against the loud voice of nature and of God,
which bid her honour her father, and, instead of honouring him, has
murdered him?

It becomes us, gentlemen, who appear here as counsel for the Crown,
shortly to open the history of this whole affair, that you may be
better able to attend to and understand the evidence we have to lay
before you. And though, in doing this, I will endeavour rather to
extenuate than to aggravate, yet I trust I have such a history to
open as will shock the ears of all who hear me.

Mr. Francis Blandy, the unfortunate deceased, was an attorney at
law, who lived at Henley, in this county. A man of character and
reputation, he had one only child, a daughter--the darling of his
soul, the comfort of his age. He took the utmost care of her
education, and had the satisfaction to see his care was not
ill-bestowed, for she was genteel, agreeable, sprightly, sensible.
His whole thoughts were bent to settle her advantageously in the
world. In order to do that he made use of a pious fraud (if I may be
allowed the expression), pretending he could give her £10,000 for
her fortune. This he did in hopes that some of the neighbouring
gentlemen would pay their addresses to her, for out of regard to him
she was from her earliest youth received into the best company, and
her own behaviour made her afterwards acceptable to them. But how
short-sighted is human prudence? What was intended for her
promotion, proved his death and her destruction.

For, gentlemen, about six years ago, one Captain William Henry
Cranstoun, a gentleman then in the army, happened to come to Henley
to recruit. He soon got acquainted with the prisoner, and, hearing
she was to have £10,000, fell in love--not with her, but with her
fortune. Children he had before; married he was at that time, yet,
concealing it from her, he insinuated himself into her good graces,
and obtained her consent for marriage.

The father, who had heard a bad character of him, and who had reason
to believe, what was afterwards confirmed, that he was at that very
time married, you will easily imagine was averse to the proposal.
Upon this Captain Cranstoun and the prisoner determined to remove
that obstacle out of their way, and resolved to get as soon as
possible into possession of the £10,000 that the poor man had
unfortunately said he was worth.

In order for this, the captain being at Mr. Blandy's house in
August, 1750, they both agreed upon this horrid deed. And that
people might be less surprised at Mr. Blandy's death, they began by
giving out that they heard music in the house--a certain sign (as
Mr. Cranstoun had learned from a wise woman, one Mrs. Morgan, in
Scotland) that the father would die in less than twelve months. The
captain, too, pretended he was endowed with the gift of second
sight, and affirmed that he had seen Mr. Blandy's apparition. This
was another certain sign of his death, as she told the servants, to
whom she frequently said her father would not live long. Nay, she
went farther, and told them he would not live till the October
following.

When it was she first began to mix poison with his victuals it is
impossible for us to ascertain, but probably it was not long after
November, 1750, when Mr. Cranstoun left Henley. The effects of the
poison were soon perceived. You will hear Dr. Addington, his
physician, tell you Mr. Blandy had for many months felt the dreadful
effects of it. One of the effects was the teeth dropping out of his
head whole from their sockets. Yet what do you think, gentlemen, the
daughter did when she perceived it? "She damned him for a toothless
old rogue, and wished him at hell." The poor man frequently
complained of pains in his bowels, had frequent reachings and
sickness; yet, instead of desisting, she wanted more poison to
effect her purpose. And Mr. Cranstoun did accordingly in the April
following send her a fresh supply; under the pretence of a present
of Scotch pebbles, he enclosed a paper of white arsenic. This she
frequently administered in his tea; and we shall prove to you that
in June, having put some of it into a dish of tea, Mr. Blandy
disliking the taste, left half in the cup. Unfortunately, a poor old
charwoman (by name Ann Emmet), glad to get a breakfast, drank the
remainder, together with a dish or two more out of the pot, and ate
what bread and butter had been left. The consequence was that she
was taken violently ill with purging and vomiting, and was in
imminent danger of her life. The poor woman's daughter came and told
Miss Blandy how ill her mother was; she, sorry that the poison was
misapplied, said, "Do not let your mother be uneasy, I will send her
what is proper for her." And, accordingly, sent her great quantities
of sack whey and thin mutton broth, than which no physician could
have prescribed better, and thus drenched the poor woman for ten
days together, till she grew tired of her medicines, and sent her
daughter again to Miss Blandy to beg a little small beer. "No, no
small beer," the prisoner said, "that was not proper for her." Most
plainly, then, she knew what it was the woman had taken in her
father's tea. She knew its effect. She knew the proper antidotes.
Having now experienced the strength of the poison, she grew more
open and undaunted, was heard to say, "Who would grudge to send an
old father to hell for £10,000?" I will make no remark upon such a
horrid expression--it needs none. After this she continued to mix
the poison with her father's tea as often as she had an opportunity.
Soon afterwards Susan Gunnell, another witness we shall call,
happened to drink some which her master had left; she was taken ill
upon it, and continued so for three weeks. This second accident
alarmed the prisoner. She was afraid of being discovered. She found
it would not mix well with tea. Accordingly, she wrote to Mr.
Cranstoun for further instructions. In answer to it, he bids her
"put it into some liquid of a more thickish substance."

The father being ill, frequently took water gruel. This was a proper
vehicle for the powder. Therefore from this time you will find her
always busy about her father's gruel. But lest Susan Gunnell, who
had been ill, should eat any of it, she cautioned her particularly
against it, saying, "Susan, as you have been so ill, you had better
not eat any of your master's water gruel; I have been told water
gruel has done me harm, and perhaps it may have the same effect upon
you." And lest this caution should not be sufficient, she spoke to
Betty Binfield, the other maidservant, and asked her whether Susan
ever ate any of her father's gruel, adding, "She had better not, for
if she does it may do for her, you may tell her." Evidently, then,
she knew what were the effects of the powder she put into her
father's gruel; for if it would "do for" the servant, it would "do
for" her father.

But the time approached beyond which she had foretold her father
would not live. It was the middle of July, and the father still
living. At this Mr. Cranstoun grows impatient. Upon the 18th of July
he writes to her, and, expressing himself in an allegorical manner,
which, however, you will easily understand, he says, "I am sorry
there are such occasions to clean your pebbles; you must make use of
the powder to them by putting it in anything of substance, wherein
it will not swim a-top of the water, of which I wrote to you of in
one of my last. I am afraid it will be too weak to take off their
rust, or at least it will take too long a time."[2] Here he is
encouraging her to double the dose; says, he is afraid it will be
too weak, and will take up too much time. And, as a further
incitement to her to make haste, describes the beauties of Scotland,
and tells her that his mother, Lady Cranstoun, had employed workmen
to fit up an apartment for her at Lennel House.

Soon after the receipt of this letter she followed the advice. And
you will accordingly find the dose doubled. Her father grew worse,
and, as she herself told the servants, complained of a fireball in
his stomach, saying, "He never will be well till he has got rid of
it." And yet you will find she herself, fearful lest he should get
rid of it, was continually adding fuel to the fire, till it had
consumed her father's entrails.

Gentlemen, I will not detain you by going through every particular,
but bring you to the fatal period. Upon the 3rd of August, being
Saturday, Susan Gunnell made a large pan of water gruel for her
master. Upon Monday, the 5th, the prisoner will be proved to go into
the pantry where it was kept, and, after having, according to Mr.
Cranstoun's advice, put in a double dose of the powder, she stirred
it about, for a considerable time, in order to make it mix the
better. When, fearing she should have been observed, she went
immediately into the laundry, to the maids, and told them that "she
had been in the pantry, and, after stirring her papa's water gruel,
had ate the oatmeal at the bottom," saying that, "if she was ever to
take to the eating anything in particular, it would be oatmeal."
Strange inconsistence! She who had cautioned the maid against it not
above a fortnight before, who had declared that it had been
prejudicial to her own health, is on a sudden grown mighty fond of
it. But the pretence is easily to be seen through. That afternoon
some of the water gruel was taken out of the pan and prepared for
her father's supper. She again in the kitchen takes care to stir it
sufficiently, looks at the spoon, rubs some between her fingers, and
then sends it up to the poor old man her father. He scarce had
swallowed it when he was taken violently ill, and continued so all
the next day, with a griping, purging, and vomiting. Yet she herself
orders a second mess of the same gruel for her father's supper on
the Tuesday, and was herself the person who carried it up to her
father and administered it to him as nourishment. The poor old man,
grown weak with the frequent repetition, had not drank half the mess
before he was seized, from head to foot, with the most violent
pricking pains, continual reaching and vomiting, and was obliged to
go to bed without finishing it. The next morning the poor charwoman,
coming again to the house, unfortunately ate the remainder of the
gruel, and was instantly affected in so violent a manner that for
two hours together it was thought she would have died in Mr.
Blandy's house. The prisoner at this time was in bed; but the maid,
going up to her room, told her how ill dame Emmet had been, at the
same time saying she had ate nothing but the remainder of her
father's water gruel. The prisoner's answer was, "Poor woman! I am
glad I was not up, I should have been shocked to have seen
her"--should have been shocked to have seen the poor charwoman eat
what was prepared for her father, but was never shocked at her
father's eating it, or at his sufferings!

Gentlemen, in the afternoon of the Wednesday, notwithstanding the
poor man, her father, had suffered so much for two days together,
yet she again endeavours to give him more of the same gruel. "No,"
says the maid, "it has an odd taste; it is grown stale, I will make
fresh." "It is not worth while to make fresh now, it will take you
from your ironing; this will do," was the prisoner's answer.
However, Susan made fresh, after which wanting the pan to put it in,
she went to throw away what was before in it. Upon tilting the pan,
she perceived a white powder at the bottom, which she knew could not
be oatmeal. She showed it her fellow-servant, when, feeling it, they
found it gritty. They then too plainly perceived what it was had
made their poor master ill. What was to be done? Susan immediately
carried the pan with the gruel and powder in it to Mrs. Mounteney, a
neighbour and friend of the deceased. Mrs. Mounteney kept it till it
was delivered to the apothecary, the apothecary delivered it to the
physician, and he will tell you that upon trying it he found it to
be white arsenic. Mr. Blandy continued from day to day to grow
worse. At last, upon the Saturday morning, Susan Gunnell, an old
honest, maidservant, uneasy to see how her poor master had been
treated, went to his bedside, and, in the most prudent and gentlest
manner, broke to him what had been the cause of his illness, and the
strong ground there was to suspect that his daughter was the
occasion of it. The father, with a fondness greater than ever a
father felt before, cried out, "Poor love-sick girl! What will not a
woman do for the man she loves? But who do you think gave her the
powder?" She answered, "She could not tell, unless it was sent by
Mr. Cranstoun." "I believe so too," says the master, "for I remember
he has talked learnedly of poisons. I always thought there was
mischief in those cursed Scotch pebbles."

Soon afterwards he got up and came to breakfast in his parlour,
where his daughter and Mr. Littleton, his clerk, then were. A dish
of tea, in the usual manner, was ready poured out for him. He just
tasted it and said, "This tea has a bad taste," looked at the cup,
then looked hard at his daughter. She was, for the first time,
shocked, burst into tears, and ran out of the room. The poor father,
more shocked than the daughter, poured the tea into the cat's basin,
and went to the window to recover himself. She soon came again into
the room. Mr. Littleton said, "Madam, I fear your father is very
ill, for he has flung away his tea." Upon this news she trembled,
and the tears again stood in her eyes. She again withdraws. Soon
afterwards the father came into the kitchen, and, addressing himself
to her, said, "Molly, I had like to have been poisoned twenty years
ago, and now I find I shall die by poison at last." This was warning
sufficient. She immediately went upstairs, brought down Mr.
Cranstoun's letters, together with the remainder of the poison, and
threw them (as she thought unobserved) into the fire. Thinking she
had now cleared herself from the suspicious appearances of poison,
her spirits mend, "she thanked God that she was much better, and
said her mind was more at ease than it had been." Alas! how often
does that which we fondly imagine will save us become our
destruction? So it was in the present instance. For providentially,
though the letters were destroyed, the paper with the poison in it
was not burnt. One of the maids having immediately flung some fresh
coals upon the fire, Miss Blandy went well satisfied out of the
room. Upon her going out, Susan Gunnell said to her fellow-servants,
"I saw Miss Blandy throw some papers in the fire, let us see whether
we can discover what they were." They removed the coals, and found a
paper with white powder in it, wrote upon, in Mr. Cranstoun's hands,
"Powder to clean the pebbles."[3] This powder they preserved, and
the doctor will tell you that it was white arsenic, the same which
had been found in the pan of gruel.

Having now (as she imagined) concealed her own being concerned, you
will find her the next day endeavouring to prevent her lover from
being discovered. Mr. Blandy of Kingston having come the night
before to see her father, on Sunday morning she sent Mr. Littleton
with him to church; while they were there she sat down and wrote
this letter to her beloved Cranstoun--

  Dear Willy,--My father is so bad, that I have only time to tell you,
  that if you do not hear from me soon again, don't be frightened. I
  am better myself. Lest any accident should happen to your letters,
  take care what you write. My sincere compliments. I am ever yours.

"My father is so bad." Who had made him so? Yet does she say she was
sorry for it? No; she knew her father was then dying by that powder
that he had sent her, yet could acquaint him she was herself better.
Under those circumstances could caution him to take care what he
wrote, lest his letters should be discovered! What can speak more
strongly their mutual guilt? This letter she sealed with no less than
five wafers. When Mr. Littleton came from church she privately gave it
to him, desiring it might be directed as usual, and put into the post.
Mr. Littleton was at that time too well apprised of this black
transaction to obey her commands. He opened the letter, took a copy of
it. Upon further recollection, carried the original to the father, who
bid him open and read it. He did so. What do you think, gentlemen, was
all the poor old man said upon this discovery? He only again dropped
these words, "Poor love-sick girl! What will not a woman do for the
man she loves?"

Upon the Monday morning, after having been kept for two days without
seeing her father, by the order of the physicians, her conscience, or
rather fear, began to trouble her; she told the maid she should go
distracted if she did not see her father, and sent a message to beg to
see him. Accordingly she was admitted. The conversation between them
was this--"Papa, how do you do?" "My dear, I am very ill." She
immediately fell upon her knees and said, "Dear sir, banish me where
you will; do with me what you please, so you do but pardon and forgive
me. And as to Mr. Cranstoun, I never will see, write, or speak to him
again." He answered, "I do forgive you, but you should, my dear, have
considered that I was your own father." Upon this the prisoner said,
"Sir, as to your illness I am innocent." Susan Gunnell, who was
present, interrupted her at this expression, and told her she was
astonished to hear her say she was innocent, when they had the poison
to produce against her that she had put into her father's water gruel,
and had preserved the paper she had thrown into the fire. The father,
whose love and tenderness for his daughter exceeded expression, could
not bear to hear her thus accused; therefore, turning himself in his
bed, cried out, "Oh that villain! that hath eat of the best, and drank
of the best my house could afford, to take away my life and ruin my
daughter!" Upon hearing this the daughter ran to the other side of the
bed to him; upon which he added, "My dear, you must hate that man, you
must hate the very ground he treads on." Struck with this, the
prisoner said, "Dear sir, your kindness towards me is worse than
swords to my heart. I must down upon my knees and beg you not to curse
me." Hear the father's answer, a father then dying by poison given by
her hand--"I curse thee, my dear! No, I bless you, and will pray to
God to bless you, and to amend your life"; then added, "So do, my
dear, go out of the room lest you should say anything to accuse
yourself." Was ever such tenderness from a parent to a child! She was
prudent enough to follow his advice, and went out of the room without
speaking. His kindness was swords to her heart for near half an hour.
Going downstairs she met Betty Binfield, and, whilst she was thus
affected, owned to her she had put some powder into her father's
gruel, and that Susan and she, for their honesty to their master,
deserved half her fortune.

Gentlemen, not to tire you with the particulars of every day, upon
Wednesday, in the afternoon, the father died. Upon his death the
prisoner, finding herself discovered, endeavoured to persuade the
manservant to go off with her; but he was too honest to be tempted by
a reward to assist her in going off, though she told him it would be
£500 in his way. That night she refused to go to bed. Not out of grief
for her father's death, for you will be told by the maid who sat up
with her that she never during the whole night showed the least
sorrow, compassion, or remorse upon his account. But in the middle of
the night she proposed to get a post-chaise in order to go to London,
and offered the maid twenty-five guineas to go with her. "A
post-chaise! and go to London! God forbid, madam, I should do such a
thing." The prisoner, finding the maid not proper for her purpose,
immediately put a smile upon her face--"I was only joking." Only
joking! Good God! would she now have it thought she was only joking?

Her father just dead by poison: she suspected of having poisoned him;
accused of being a parricide; and would she have it thought she was
capable of joking?

When I see the assistance she now has (and I am glad to see she has
the assistance of three as able gentlemen as any in the profession) I
am sure she will not be now advised to say she was then joking. But it
will appear very plainly to you, gentlemen, that she was not joking,
for the next morning she dressed herself in a proper habit for a
journey, and, while the people put to take care of her were absent,
stole out of the house and went over Henley Bridge. But the mob, who
had heard of what she had done, followed her so close that she was
forced to take shelter in a little alehouse, the Angel. Mr. Fisher, a
gentleman who was afterwards one of the jury upon the coroner's
inquisition, came there, and prevailed with her (or in other words
forced her) to return home. Upon her return, the inquest sitting, she
sends for Mr. Fisher into another room and said, "Dear Mr. Fisher,
what do you think they will do with me? Will they send me to Oxford
gaol?" "Madam," said he, "I am afraid it will go hard with you. But if
you have any of Mr. Cranstoun's letters, and produce them, they may be
of some service to you." Upon hearing this she cried out, "Dear Mr.
Fisher, what have I done? I had letters that would have hanged that
villain, but I have burnt them. My honour to that villain has brought
me to my destruction." And she spoke the truth.

This, gentlemen, is in substance the history of this black affair.
But, my lords, though this is the history in order of time, yet it is
not the order in which we shall lay the evidence before your lordships
and the jury. It will be proper for us to begin by establishing the
fact that Mr. Francis Blandy did die of poison. When the physicians
have proved that, we will then proceed to show that he died of the
poison put into the water gruel on the 5th of August. After this we
will call witnesses who from a number of circumstances, as well as
from her own confession, will prove she put it into her father's water
gruel, knowing it was for her father, and knowing it to be poison.

Having done this, we will conclude with a piece of evidence which I
forgot to mention before, and that is the conversation between her and
Mr. Lane at the Angel. Mr. Lane and his wife happening to be walking
at that time, finding a mob about the door, stepped into the alehouse
to see the prisoner. The moment she saw a gentleman, though it was one
she did not know, she accosted him, "Sir, you appear to be a
gentleman; for heaven's sake, what will become of me?" "Madam!" said
he, "you will be sent to Oxford gaol; you will there be tried for your
life. If you are innocent, you will be acquitted; if you are guilty,
you will suffer death."

The prisoner upon hearing this stamped with her foot, and said, "Oh!
that damned villain!" Then pausing, "But why do I blame him? I am most
blame myself, for I gave it, and I knew the consequence." If she knew
the consequence, I am sure there are none of you gentlemen but who
will think she deserves to suffer the consequence.

And let me here observe how evidently the hand of Providence has
interposed to bring her to this day's trial that she may suffer the
consequence. For what but the hand of Providence could have preserved
the paper thrown by her into the fire, and have snatched it unburnt
from the devouring flame! Good God! how wonderful are all Thy ways,
and how miraculously hast Thou preserved this paper to be this day
produced in evidence against the prisoner in order that she may suffer
the punishment due to her crime, and be a dreadful example to all
others who may be tempted in like manner to offend Thy divine majesty!

Let me add that, next to Providence, the public are obliged to the two
noble lords[4] whose indefatigable diligence in inquiring into this
hidden work of darkness has enabled us to lay before you upon this
occasion the clearest and strongest proof that such a dark transaction
will admit of. For poisoning is done in secret and alone. It is not
like other murders, neither can it be proved with equal perspicuity.
However, the evidence we have in this case is as clear and direct as
possible, and if it comes up to what I have opened to you I make no
doubt but you will do that justice to your country which the oath you
have taken requires of you.


[Sidenote: Mr. Serjeant Hayward]

Mr. SERJEANT HAYWARD--May it please your lordships and you gentlemen
of the jury, I likewise am appointed to assist the Crown on this
occasion, but His Majesty's learned counsel having laid before you so
faithful a narrative of this dismal transaction, it seems almost
unnecessary for me to take up any more of your time in repeating
anything that has been before said; and, indeed, my own inclinations
would lead me to cast a veil over the guilty scene--a scene so black
and so horrid that if my duty did not call me to it I could rather
wish it might be for ever concealed from human eyes. But as we are now
making inquisition for blood it is absolutely necessary for me to make
some observations upon that chain of circumstances that attended this
bloody contrivance and detested murder.

[Illustration: Captain Cranstoun and Miss Blandy
(_From an Engraving in the British Museum_.)]

Experience has taught us that in many cases a single fact may be
supported by false testimony, but where it is attended with a train
of circumstances that cannot be invented (had they never happened),
such a fact will always be made out to the satisfaction of a jury
by the concurring assistance of circumstantial evidence. Because
circumstances that tally one with another are above human contrivance.
And especially such as naturally arise in their order from the first
contrivance of a scheme to the fatal execution of it.

Having suggested this much, I shall now proceed to lay before you
those sort of circumstances that seem to me to arise through this
whole affair, and leave it to your judgment whether they do not amount
to too convincing a proof that the prisoner at the bar has knowingly
been the cause of her own father's death, for upon the prisoner's
knowledge of what she did will depend her fate.

Of all kinds of murders that by poison is the most dreadful, as it
takes a man unguarded, and gives him no opportunity to defend himself,
much more so when administered by the hand of a child, whom one could
least suspect, and from whom one might naturally look for assistance
and comfort. Could a father entertain any suspicion of a child to
whom, under God, he had been the second cause of life? No, sure, and
yet this is the case now before you. The unfortunate deceased has
received his death by poison, and that undoubtedly administered by the
hand of his own--his only--his beloved child. Spare me, gentlemen, to
pay the tribute of one tear to the memory of a person with whom I was
most intimately acquainted, and to the excellency of whose disposition
and integrity of heart I can safely bear faithful testimony. Oh! were
he now living, and to see his daughter there, the severest tortures
that poison could give would be nothing to what he would suffer from
such a sight.

And since the bitterest agonies must at this time surround the heart
of the prisoner if she does but think of what a father she has lost, I
can readily join with her in her severest afflictions upon this
occasion, and shall never blame myself for weeping with those that
weep, nor can I make the least question but my learned assistants in
this prosecution will with me rejoice likewise, if the prisoner, by
making her innocence appear, shall upon the conclusion of this inquiry
find occasion to rejoice. But, alas! too strong I fear will the charge
against her be proved, too convincing are the circumstances that
attend it. What those are, and what may be collected from them, is my
next business to offer to your consideration.

But before I enter thereupon I must beg leave to address myself to
this numerous and crowded assembly, whom curiosity hath led hither to
hear the event of this solemn trial, hoping that whatever may be the
consequence of it to the prisoner her present melancholy situation may
turn to our advantage, and reduce our minds to seriousness and
attention. Solemn, indeed, I may well call it as being a tribunal
truly awful, for this method of trial before two of His Majesty's
learned judges has scarce ever been known upon a circuit; judges of
undoubted virtue, integrity, and learning, who undergo this laborious
and important work, not only for the sake of bringing guilt to
punishment, but to guard and protect innocence whenever it appears.

But you, young gentleman of this University, I particularly beg your
attention, earnestly beseeching you to guard against the first
approaches of and temptations to vice. See here the dreadful
consequences of disobedience to a parent. Who could have thought that
Miss Blandy, a young lady virtuously brought up, distinguished for her
good behaviour and prudent conduct in life, till her unfortunate
acquaintance with the wicked Cranstoun, should ever be brought to a
trial for her life, and that for the most desperate and bloodiest kind
of murder, committed by her own hand, upon her own father? Had she
listened to his admonitions this calamity never had befallen her.
Learn hence the dreadful consequences of disobedience to parents; and
know also that the same mischief in all probability may happen to such
who obstinately disregard, neglect, and despise the advice of those
persons who have the charge and care of their education; of governors
likewise, and of magistrates, and of all others who are put in
authority over them. Let this fix in your mind the excellent maxim of
the good physician, "Venienti occurrite morbo." Let us defend
ourselves against the first temptations to sin, and guard our
innocence as we would our lives; for if once we yield, though but a
little, in whose power is it to say, hitherto will I go, and no
further?

And now, gentlemen of the jury, those observations I had before
mentioned, I shall attempt to lay before you in order to assist you in
making a true judgment of the matter committed to your charge. The
author and contriver of this bloody affair is not at present here. I
sincerely wish that he was, because we should be able to convince him
that such crimes as his cannot escape unpunished. The unhappy
prisoner, ruined and undone by the treacherous flattery and pernicious
advice of that abandoned, insidious, and execrable wretch, who had
found means of introducing himself into her father's family, and
whilst there, by false pretences of love, gained the affection of his
only daughter and child. Love! did I call it? It deserves not the
name; if it was love of anything it was of the £10,000 supposed to be
the young lady's fortune. Could a man that had a wife of his own, and
children, be really in love with another woman? Such a thing cannot be
supposed, and therefore I beg leave to call it avarice and lust only;
but be it what it will, the life of the father becomes an obstacle to
the criminal proceedings that were intended and designed to be carried
on between them, and therefore he must be removed before that
imaginary state of felicity could be obtained according to their
projected scheme. Mark how the destruction of this poor man is ushered
into the world--apparitions, noises, voices, music, reported to be
heard from time to time in the deceased's house. Even his days are
numbered out, and his own child limits the space of his life but till
the following month of October. What could be the meaning of this, but
to prepare the world for a death that was predetermined? Who could
limit the days of a man's life but a person who knew what was intended
to be done towards the shortening of it?

In order to bring this about Cranstoun sends presents of pebbles, as
also a powder to clean them, and this powder, gentlemen, you will find
is the dreadful poison that accomplished this abominable scheme.

From time to time mention is made of the pebbles, but not a syllable
of the powder. Why not of the one as well as of the other, if there
had not been a mystery concealed in it? Preparation is made for an
experiment of its power before Cranstoun's departure. He mixes the
deadly draught, but the prisoner's conscience, not yet hardened,
forced her to turn away her eyes, and she durst not venture to behold
the cup prepared that was to send the father into another world.

Soon after this Cranstoun quits the family (having, no question, left
instructions how to proceed further in completing the scheme he had
laid for taking off the old man), and this you'll find by letters
under his own hand, that the powder, whatever it was, must not be
mixed in too thin a liquid, because it might be discovered, and
therefore water gruel is thought fitter for the purpose. By the
frequent mixtures that were made upon these occasions the unfortunate
servant and charwoman accidentally drank part of the deadly
composition. When complaint is made of their sickness, how does the
prisoner behave? Does she not administer to them with as much art and
skill as a physician could? Does she not prescribe proper liquids and
draughts to absorb and take off the edge of the corroding poison? If
she knew not what it was how could she administer so successfully to
prevent the fatal consequences of it both in the maid and the
charwoman? During this transaction the unhappy father finds himself
afflicted with torturing pains immediately after receiving the
composition from his daughter. Is there any care taken of him? Any
physician sent for to attend him? Any healing draughts prepared to
quiet the racks and tortures that he inwardly felt? None at all that I
can find. He is left to take care of himself, and undergo those
miseries that his own child had brought upon him, and yet had not the
heart to give him any assistance. What could this proceed from, but
guilty only? Would not an innocent child have made the strictest
inquiry how her own father came to be out of order? Would she not have
sought the world over for advice and assistance? But instead of that
you hear the bitterest expressions proceed from her, expressions
sufficient to shock human nature. They have been all mentioned already
by my learned leader, and I will not again repeat them.

Observe, as things come nearer the crisis, whether her behaviour
towards her father carries any better appearance. When it began to be
suspected that Mr. Blandy's disorder was owing to poison, and
strongly, from circumstances, that the prisoner was privy to it, the
poor man, now too far gone, being informed that there was great reason
to suspect his own child, what expressions does he make use of? No
harsher than in the gentlest method saying, "Poor love-sick girl! I
always thought there was mischief in those Scotch pebbles. Oh, that
damned villain Cranstoun, that has ate of the best and drank of the
best my house afforded, to serve me thus and ruin my poor love-sick
girl!" An incontestable proof that he knew the cause of his disorder
and the authors of it.

The report spread about the house of the father's suspicions soon
alarmed the prisoner; what does she do upon this occasion? Can any
other interpretation be put upon her actions than that they proceeded
from a manifest intention to conceal her guilt? Why is the paper of
powder thrown into the fire? From whence, as my learned leader most
elegantly observes, it is miraculously preserved. What occasion for
concealment had she not been conscious of something that was wrong? If
she had not known what had been in the paper, for what purpose was it
committed to the flames? And what really was contained in that paper
will appear to you to be deadly poison.

The long-wished-for and fatal hour at last arrives, and but a little
before a letter is sent by the prisoner to Cranstoun that her father
was extremely ill, begging him to be cautious what he writes, lest any
accident should happen to his letters. Do the circumstances, the
language, or the time of writing this letter leave any room to suppose
the prisoner could be innocent? They seem to me rather to be the
fullest proof of her knowing what she had done. What accidents could
befall Cranstoun's letters? Why is he to take care what he writes, if
nothing but the effects of innocency were to be contained in those
letters? In a very short time after this the strength of the poison
carries the father out of the world. Do but hear how the prisoner
behaved thereupon. The father's corpse was not yet cold when she makes
application to the footman, with a temptation of large sums of money
as a reward, if he would go off with her; but the fidelity and virtue
of the servant was proof against the temptation even of four or five
hundred pounds. The next proposal is to the maid to procure a chaise,
with the offer of a reward for so doing, and to go along with her to
London; but this project likewise failed, through the honesty of the
servant. The next morning, in the absence of Edward Herne (the guard
that was set over her), she makes her escape from her father's house,
and, dressed as if going to take a journey, walked down the street;
but the mob was soon aware of her, and forced her to take shelter in a
public-house over the bridge. Do these proceedings look as if they
were the effects of innocence? Far otherwise, I am afraid. Would an
innocent person have quitted a deceased parent's house at a time when
she was most wanting to make proper and decent preparations for his
funeral? Would an innocent person, at such a time as this, offer money
for assistance to make an escape? I think not; and I wish she may find
a satisfactory cause to assign for such amazing behaviour.

Let us put innocence and guilt in the scale together, and observe to
which side the prisoner's actions are most applicable. Innocence,
celestial virgin, always has her guard about her; she dares look the
frowns, the resentments, and the persecutions of the world in the
face; is able to stand the test of the strictest inquiry; and the more
we behold her, still the more shall we be in love with her charms. But
it is not so with guilt. The baneful fiend makes use of unjustifiable
means to conceal her wicked designs and prevent discovery. Artifice
and cunning are her supporters, bribery and corruption the defenders
of her cause; she flies before the face of law and justice, and shuns
the probation of a candid and impartial inquiry. Upon the whole
matter, you, gentlemen, are to judge; and judge as favourably as you
can for the prisoner.

If this were not sufficient to convince us of the prisoner's guilt, I
think the last transaction of all will leave not the least room to
doubt. When in discourse with persons that came to her at the house
where she had taken shelter, what but self-conviction could have drawn
such expressions from her? In her discourse with Mr. Fisher about
Cranstoun you will find she declared she had letters and papers that
would have hanged that villain; and, again, says, "My honour, Mr.
Fisher, to that villain has brought me to destruction"; and, again, in
her inquiry of Mr. Lane, what they would do with her, she bursts out
into this bitter exclamation, "Oh, that damned villain!" Then after a
short pause, "But why should I blame him? I am more to blame than he
is, for I gave it him." How could she be to blame for giving it if she
knew not what it was? And, as it is said, went yet farther, and
declared, "That she knew the consequence." If she did know it, she
must expect to suffer the consequence of it too.

Thus, gentlemen, have I endeavoured to lay before you some observations
upon this transaction, and I hope you will think them not unworthy of
your consideration. I trust I have said nothing that relates to the
fact that is not in my instructions; should it be otherwise, I assure
you it was not with design. And whatever is not supported by legal
evidence you will totally disregard.

If any other interpretation than what I have offered can be put upon
these several transactions, and the circumstances attending them, I
doubt not but you will always incline on the merciful side where there
is room for so doing.

We shall now proceed to call our evidence.

The other gentlemen, of counsel for the King, were Mr. Hayes, Mr.
Wares, and Mr. Ambler.

The counsel for the prisoner were Mr. Ford, Mr. Morton, and Mr.
Aston.[5]




Evidence for the Prosecution.


[Sidenote: Dr. Addington]

Dr. ANTHONY ADDINGTON[6] examined--I attended Mr. Blandy in his last
illness.

When were you called to him the first time?--On Saturday evening,
August the 10th.

In what condition did you find him?--He was in bed, and told me that,
after drinking some gruel on Monday night, August the 5th, he had
perceived an extraordinary grittiness in his mouth, attended with a
very painful burning and pricking in his tongue, throat, stomach, and
bowels, and with sickness and gripings, which symptoms had been
relieved by fits of vomiting and purging.

Were those fits owing to any physic he had taken or to the gruel?--Not
to any physic; they came on very soon after drinking the gruel.

Had he taken no physic that day?--No.

Did he make any further complaints?--He said that, after drinking more
gruel on Tuesday night, August the 6th, he had felt the grittiness in
his mouth again, and that the burning and pricking in his tongue,
throat, stomach, and bowels had returned with double violence, and had
been aggravated by a prodigious swelling of his belly, and exquisite
pains and prickings in every external as well as internal part of his
body, which prickings he compared to an infinite number of needles
darting into him all at once.

How soon after drinking the gruel?--Almost immediately. He told me
likewise that at the same time he had had cold sweats, hiccup, extreme
restlessness and anxiety, but that then, viz., on Saturday night,
August the 10th, having had a great many stools, and some bloody ones,
he was pretty easy everywhere, except in his mouth, lips, nose, eyes,
and fundament, and except some transient gripings in his bowels. I
asked him to what he imputed those uneasy sensations in his mouth,
lips, nose, and eyes? He said, to the fumes of something that he had
taken in his gruel on Monday night, August the 5th, and Tuesday night,
August the 6th. On inspection I found his tongue swelled and his
throat slightly inflamed and excoriated. His lips, especially the
upper one, were dry and rough, and had angry pimples on them. The
inside of his nostrils was in the same condition. His eyes were a
little bloodshot. Besides these appearances, I observed that he had a
low, trembling, intermitting pulse; a difficult, unequal respiration;
a yellowish complexion; a difficulty in the utterance of his words;
and an inability of swallowing even a teaspoonful of the thinnest
liquor at a time. As I suspected that these appearances and symptoms
were the effect of poison, I asked Miss Blandy whether Mr. Blandy had
lately given offence to either of his servants or clients, or any
other person? She answered, "That he was at peace with all the world,
and that all the world was at peace with him." I then asked her
whether he had ever been subject to complaints of this kind before?
She said that he had often been subject to the colic and heartburn,
and that she supposed this was only a fit of that sort, and would soon
go off, as usual. I told Mr. Blandy that I asked these questions
because I suspected that by some means or other he had taken poison.
He replied, "It might be so," or in words to that effect; but Miss
Blandy said, "It was impossible." On Sunday morning, August the 11th,
he seemed much relieved; his pulse, breath, complexion, and power of
swallowing were greatly mended. He had had several stools in the night
without any blood in them. The complaints which he had made of his
mouth, lips, nose, and eyes were lessened; but he said the pain in his
fundament continued, and that he still felt some pinchings in his
bowels. On viewing his fundament, I found it almost surrounded with
gleety excoriations and ulcers. About eight o'clock that morning I
took my leave of him; but before I quitted his room Miss Blandy
desired I would visit him again the next day. When I got downstairs
one of the maids put a paper into my hands, which she said Miss Blandy
had thrown into the kitchen fire. Several holes were burnt in the
paper, but not a letter of the superscription was effaced. The
superscription was "The powder to clean the pebbles with."

What is the maid's name that gave you that paper?--I cannot recollect
which of the maids it was that gave it me. I opened the paper very
carefully, and found in it a whiteish powder, like white arsenic in
taste, but slightly discoloured by a little burnt paper mixed with it.
I cannot swear this powder was arsenic, or any other poison, because
the quantity was too small to make any experiment with that could be
depended on.

What do you really suspect it to be?--I really suspect it to be white
arsenic.

Please to proceed, sir.--As soon as the maid had left me, Mr. Norton,
the apothecary, produced a powder that, he said, had been found at the
bottom of that mess of gruel, which, as was supposed, had poisoned Mr.
Blandy. He gave me some of this powder, and I examined it at my
leisure, and believed it to be white arsenic. On Monday morning,
August the 12th, I found Mr. Blandy much worse than I had left him the
day before. His complexion was very bad, his pulse intermitted, and he
breathed and swallowed with great difficulty. He complained more of
his fundament than he had done before. His bowels were still in pain.
I now desired that another physician might be called in, as I
apprehended Mr. Blandy to be in the utmost danger, and that this
affair might come before a Court of judicature. Dr. Lewis was then
sent for from Oxford. I stayed with Mr. Blandy all this day. I asked
him more than once whether he really thought he had taken poison? He
answered each time that he believed he had. I asked him whether he
thought he had taken poison often? He answered in the affirmative. His
reasons for thinking so were because some of his teeth had decayed
much faster than was natural, and because he had frequently for some
months past, especially after his daughter had received a present of
Scotch pebbles from Mr. Cranstoun, been affected with very violent and
unaccountable prickings and heats in his tongue and throat, and with
almost intolerable burnings and pains in his stomach and bowels, which
used to go off in vomitings and purgings. I asked him whom he
suspected to be the giver of the poison? The tears stood in his eyes,
yet he forced a smile, and said--"A poor love-sick girl--I forgive
her--I always thought there was mischief in those cursed Scotch
pebbles." Dr. Lewis came about eight o'clock in the evening. Before he
came Mr. Blandy's complexion, pulse, breath, and faculty of swallowing
were much better again; but he complained more of pain in his
fundament. This evening Miss Blandy was confined to her chamber, a
guard was placed over her, and her keys, papers, and all instruments
wherewith she could hurt either herself or any other person were taken
from her.

How came that?--I proposed it to Dr. Lewis, and we both thought it
proper, because we had great reason to suspect her as the author of
Mr. Blandy's illness, and because this suspicion was not yet publicly
known, and therefore no magistrate had Dr. Addington taken any notice
of her.

Please to go on, Dr. Addington, with your account of Mr. Blandy.

On Tuesday morning, August the 13th, we found him worse again, His
countenance, pulse, breath, and power of swallowing were extremely
bad. He was excessively weak. His hands trembled. Both they and his
face were cold and clammy. The pain was entirely gone from his bowels,
but not from his fundament. He was now and then a little delirious. He
had frequently a short cough and a very extraordinary elevation of his
chest in fetching his breath, on which occasions an ulcerous matter
generally issued from his fundament. Yet in his sensible intervals he
was cheerful and jocose; he said, "he was like a person bit by a mad
dog; for that he should be glad to drink, but could not swallow."
About noon this day his speech faltered more and more. He was
sometimes very restless, at others very sleepy. His face was quite
ghastly. This night was a terrible one. On Wednesday morning, August
the 14th, he recovered his senses for an hour or more. He told me he
would make his will in two or three days; but he soon grew delirious
again, and sinking every moment, died about two o'clock in the
afternoon.

Upon the whole, did you then think, from the symptoms you have
described and the observations you made, that Mr. Blandy died by
poison?--Indeed I did.

And is it your present opinion?--It is; and I have never had the least
occasion to alter it. His case was so particular, that he had not a
symptom of any consequence but what other persons have had who have
taken white arsenic, and after death had no appearance in his body but
what other persons have had who have been destroyed by white
arsenic.[7]

When was his body opened?--On Thursday, in the afternoon, August the
15th.

What appeared on opening it?--I committed the appearances to writing,
and should be glad to read them, if the Court will give me leave.

[Then the doctor, on leave given by the Court, read as follows:--]

  "Mr. Blandy's back and the hinder part of his arms, thighs, and legs
  were livid. That fat which lay on the muscles of his belly was of a
  loose texture, inclining to a state of fluidity. The muscles of his
  belly were very pale and flaccid. The cawl was yellower than is
  natural, and the side next the stomach and intestines looked
  brownish. The heart was variegated with purple spots. There was no
  water in the pericardium. The lungs resembled bladders half filled
  with air, and blotted in some places with pale, but in most with
  black, ink. The liver and spleen were much discoloured; the former
  looked as if it had been boiled, but that part of it which covered
  the stomach was particularly dark. A stone was found in the gall
  bladder. The bile was very fluid and of a dirty yellow colour,
  inclining to red. The kidneys were all over stained with livid
  spots. The stomach and bowels were inflated, and appeared before
  any incision was made into them as if they had been pinched, and
  extravasated blood had stagnated between their membranes. They
  contained nothing, as far as we examined, but a slimy bloody froth.
  Their coats were remarkably smooth, thin, and flabby. The wrinkles
  of the stomach were totally obliterated. The internal coat of the
  stomach and duodenum, especially about the orifices of the former,
  was prodigiously inflamed and excoriated. The redness of the white
  of the eye in a violent inflammation of that part, or rather the
  white of the eye just brushed and bleeding with the beards of
  barley, may serve to give some idea how this coat had been wounded.
  There was no schirrus in any gland of the abdomen, no adhesion of
  the lungs to the pleura, nor indeed the least trace of a natural
  decay in any part whatever."


[Sidenote: Dr. Lewis]

Dr. WILLIAM LEWIS[8] examined--Did you, Dr. Lewis, observe that Mr.
Blandy had the symptoms which Dr. Addington has mentioned?--I did.

Did you observe that there were the same appearances on opening his
body which Dr. Addington has described?--I observed and remember them
all, except the spots on his heart.

Is it your real opinion that those symptoms and those appearances were
owing to poison?--Yes.

And that he died of poison?--Absolutely.


[Sidenote: Dr. Addington]

Dr. ADDINGTON, cross-examined--Did you first intimate to Mr. Blandy,
or he to you, that he had been poisoned?--He first intimated it to me.

Did you ask him whether he was certain that he had been poisoned by
the gruel that he took on Monday night, August the 5th, and on Tuesday
night, August the 6th?--I do not recollect that I did.

Are you sure that he said he was disordered after drinking the gruel
on Monday night, the 5th of August?--Yes.

Did you over ask him why he drank more gruel on Tuesday night, August
the 6th?--I believe I did not.

When did you make experiments on the powder delivered to you by Mr.
Norton?--I made some the next day; but many more some time afterwards.

How long afterwards?--I cannot just say; it might be a month or more.

How often had you powder given you?--Twice.

Did you make experiments with both parcels?--Yes; but I gave the
greatest part of the first to Mr. King, an experienced chemist in
Reading, and desired that he would examine it, which he did, and he
told me that it was white arsenic. The second parcel was used in
trials made by myself.

Who had the second parcel in keeping till you tried it?--I had it, and
kept it either in my pocket or under lock and key.

Did you never show it to anybody?--Yes, to several persons; but
trusted nobody with it out of my sight.

Why do you believe it to be white arsenic?--For the following
reasons:--(1) This powder has a milky whiteness; so has white arsenic.
(2) This is gritty and almost insipid; so is white arsenic. (3) Part
of it swims on the surface of cold water, like a pale sulphurous film,
but the greatest part sinks to the bottom, and remains there
undissolved; the same is true of white arsenic. (4) This thrown on
red-hot iron does not flame, but rises entirely in thick white fumes,
which have the stench of garlic, and cover cold iron held just over
them with white flowers; white arsenic does the same. (5) I boiled 10
grains of this powder in 4 ounces of clean water, and then, passing
the decoction through a filter, divided it into five equal parts,
which were put into as many glasses--into one glass I poured a few
drops of spirit of sal ammoniac, into another some of the lixivium of
tartar, into the third some strong spirit of vitriol, into the fourth
some spirit of salt, and into the last some syrup of violets. The
spirit of sal ammoniac threw down a few particles of pale sediment.
The lixivium of tartar gave a white cloud, which hung a little above
the middle of the glass. The spirits of vitriol and salt made a
considerable precipitation of lightish coloured substance, which, in
the former hardened into glittering crystals, sticking to the sides
and bottom of the glass. Syrup of violets produced a beautiful pale
green tincture. Having washed the sauce pan, funnel, and glasses used
in the foregoing experiments very clean, and provided a fresh filter,
I boiled 10 grains of white arsenic, bought of Mr. Wilcock, druggist
in Reading, in 4 ounces of clean water, and, filtering and dividing it
into five equal parts, proceeded with them just as I had done with the
former decoctions. There was an exact similitude between the
experiments made on the two decoctions. They corresponded so nicely in
each trial that I declare I never saw any two things in Nature more
alike the decoction made with the powder found in Mr. Blandy's gruel
and that made with white arsenic. From these experiments, and others
which I am ready to produce if desired, I believe that powder to be
white arsenic.

Did any person make these experiments with you?--No, but Mr. Wilcock,
the druggist, was present while I made them; and he weighed both the
powder and the white arsenic.

When did Mr. Blandy first take medicines by your order?--As soon as he
could swallow, on Saturday night, the 10th August. Before that time he
was under the care of Mr. Norton.


[Sidenote: B. Norton]

BENJAMIN NORTON, examined--I live at Henley; I remember being sent for
to Mrs. Mounteney's, in Henley, on Thursday, the 8th August, in order
to show me the powder. There was with her Susan Gunnell, the servant
maid. She brought in a pan. I looked at it and endeavoured to take it
out that I might give a better account of it, for as it lay it was
not possible to see what it was; then I laid it on white paper and
delivered it to Mrs. Mounteney to take care of till it dried. She kept
it till Sunday morning, then I had it to show to Dr. Addington. I saw
the doctor try it once at my house upon a red-hot poker, upon which I
did imagine it was of the arsenic kind.

Did you attend the deceased while he was ill?--I did. I went on the
6th of August. He told me he was ill, as he imagined, of a fit of the
colic. He complained of a violent pain in his stomach, attended with
great reachings, and swelled, and a great purging. I carried him
physic, which he took on the Wednesday morning; he was then better. On
the Thursday morning, as I was going, I met the maid. She told me he
was not up, so I went about twelve. He was then with a client in the
study. He told me the physic had done him a great deal of service, and
desired more. I sent him some to take on Friday morning; I was not
with him after Thursday.[9]

Had you used to attend him?--I had for several years. The last illness
he had before was in July, 1750. I used to attend him.

Did you ever hear Miss Blandy talk of music?--I did. She said she had
heard it in the house, and she feared something would happen in the
family. She did not say anything particular, because I made very light
of it.

Did she say anything of apparitions?--She said Mr. Cranstoun saw her
father's apparition one night.

How long before his death was it that she talked about music?--It
might be about three or four months before.

Was the powder you delivered to Dr. Addington the self-same powder you
received of Mrs. Mounteney?--It was the very same; it had not been out
of my custody.

Should you know it again?--I have some of the same now in my pocket.
[He produces a paper sealed up with the Earl of Macclesfield's and
Lord Cadogan's seals upon it.] This is some of the same that I
delivered to Dr. Addington.

Cross-examined--Who sent for you to the house?--I cannot tell that.

When you came, did you see Miss Blandy?--I did. She and Mr. Blandy
were both together.

What conversation had you then?--I asked Mr. Blandy whether or no he
had eaten anything that he thought disagreed with him? Miss Blandy
made answer, and said her papa had had nothing that she knew of except
some peas on the Saturday night before.

Did you hear anything of water gruel?--I knew nothing of that till it
was brought to me.

Had you any suspicion of poison then?--I had not, nor Mr. Blandy had
not mentioned anything of being poisoned by having taken water gruel.

What did Miss Blandy say to you?--She desired me to be careful of her
father in his illness.

Did she show any dislike to his having physic?--No, none at all. She
desired, when I saw any danger, I would let her know it, that she
might have the advice of a physician.

When was this?--This was on Saturday, the 10th.

When he grew worse, did she advise a physician might be called
in?--Yes, she did, after I said he was worse. She then begged that Dr.
Addington might be sent for. Mr. Blandy was for deferring it till next
day, but when I came down she asked if I thought him in danger. I
said, "He is," then she said, "Though he seems to be against it, I
will send for a doctor directly," and sent away a man unknown to him.

Was he for delaying?--He was, till the next morning.

How had she behaved to him in any other illness of her father's?--I
never saw but at such times she behaved with true affection and
regard.

Had she used to be much with him?--She used to be backwards and
forwards with him in the room.

Did you give any intimation to Miss Blandy after the powder was
tried?--I did not, but went up to acquaint her uncle. He was so
affected he could not come down to apprise Mr. Blandy of it.

When did she first know that you knew of it?--I never knew she knew of
it till the Monday.

How came you to suspect that at the bottom of the pan to be poison?--I
found it very gritty, and had no smell. When I went down and saw the
old washerwoman, that she had tasted of the water gruel and was
affected with the same symptoms as Mr. Blandy, I then suspected he was
poisoned, and said I was afraid Mr. Blandy had had foul play; but I
did not tell either him or Miss Blandy so, because I found by the maid
that Miss Blandy was suspected.

Whom did you suspect might do it?--I had suspicion it was Miss Blandy.

KING'S COUNSEL--When was Dr. Addington sent for?--On the Saturday
night.


[Sidenote: Mrs. Mary Mounteney]

Mrs. MARY MOUNTENEY[10] examined--Susan Gunnell brought a pan to my
house on the 8th of August with water gruel in it and powder at the
bottom, and desired me to look at it. I sent for Mr. Norton. He took
the powder out on a piece of white paper which I gave him. He
delivered the same powder to me, and I took care of it and locked it
up.

Cross-examined--Did you ever see any behaviour of Miss Blandy
otherwise than that of an affectionate daughter?--I never did. She was
always dutiful to her father, as far as I saw, when her father was
present.

To whom did you first mention that this powder was put into the
paper?--To the best of my remembrance, I never made mention of it to
anybody till Mr. Norton fetched it away, which was on the 11th of
August, the Sunday morning after, to be shown to Dr. Addington.

Between the time of its being brought to your house and the time it
was fetched away, were you ever at Mr. Blandy's house?--No, I was not
in that time, but was there on Sunday in the afternoon.

Had you not showed it at any other place during that time?--I had not,
sir.

Did you, on the Sunday, in the afternoon, mention it to Mr. or Miss
Blandy?--No, not to either of them.


[Sidenote: S. Gunnell]

SUSANNAH GUNNELL, examined--I carried the water gruel in a pan to Mrs.
Mounteney's house.

Whose use was it made for?--It was made for Mr. Blandy's use, on the
Sunday seven-night before his death.

Who made it?--I made it.

Where did you put it after you had made it?--I put it into the common
pantry, where all the family used to go.

Did you observe any particular person busy about there
afterwards?--No, nobody; Miss Blandy told me on the Monday she had
been in the pantry (I did not see her) stirring her father's water
gruel, and eating the oatmeal out of the bottom of it.

What time of the Monday was this?--This was some time about the middle
of the day.

Did Mr. Blandy take any of that water gruel?--I gave him a half-pint
mug of it on Monday evening for him to take before he went to bed.

Did you observe anybody meddle with that half-pint mug afterwards?--I
saw Miss Blandy take the teaspoon that was in the mug and stir the
water gruel, and after put her finger to the spoon, and then rubbed
her fingers.

Did Mr. Blandy drink any of that water gruel?--Mr. Blandy drank some
of it, and on the Tuesday morning, when he came downstairs, he did not
come through the kitchen as usual, but went the back way into his
study.

Did you see him come down?--I did not.

When was the first time you saw him that day?--It was betwixt nine and
ten. Miss Blandy and he were together; he was not well, and going to
lie down on the bed.

Did you see him in the evening?--In the evening Robert Harman came to
me as I was coming downstairs and told me I must warm some water
gruel, for my master was in haste for supper.

Did you warm some?--I warmed some of that out of the pan, of which he
had some the night before, and Miss Blandy carried it to him into the
parlour.

Did he drink it?--I believe he did; there seemed to be about half of
it left the next morning.

How did he seem to be after?--I met him soon after he had ate the
water gruel going upstairs to bed. I lighted him up. As soon as he was
got into the room he called for a basin to reach; he seemed to be very
sick by his reaching a considerable time.

How was he next morning?--About six o'clock I went up the next morning
to carry him his physic. He said he had had a pretty good night, and
was much better.

Had he reached much overnight?--He had, for the basin was half-full,
which I left clean overnight.

Was any order given you to give him any more water gruel?--On the
Wednesday Miss Blandy came into the kitchen and said, "Susan, as your
master has taken physic, he may want more water gruel, and, as there
is some in the house, you need not make fresh, as you are ironing." I
told her it was stale, if there was enough, and it would not hinder
much to make fresh; so I made fresh accordingly, and I went into the
pantry to put some in for my master's dinner. Then I brought out the
pan (the evening before I thought it had an odd taste), so I was
willing to taste it again to see if I was mistaken or not. I put it to
my mouth and drank some, and, taking it from my mouth, I observed some
whiteness at the bottom.

What did you do upon that?--I went immediately to the kitchen and told
Betty Binfield there was a white settlement, and I did not remember I
ever had seen oatmeal so white before. Betty said, "Let me see it." I
carried it to her. She said, "What oatmeal is this? I think it looks
as white as flour." We both took the pan and turned it about, and
strictly observed it, and concluded it could be nothing but oatmeal. I
then took it out of doors into the light and saw it plainer; then I
put my finger to it and found it gritty at the bottom of the pan. I
then recollected I had heard say poison was white and gritty, which
made me afraid it was poison.

What did you do with the pan?--I carried it back again and set it down
on the dresser in the kitchen; it stood there a short time, then I
locked it up in the closet, and on the Thursday morning carried it to
Mrs. Mounteney, and Mr. Norton came there and saw it.

Do you remember Miss Blandy saying anything to you about eating her
papa's water gruel?--About six weeks before his death I went into the
parlour. Miss Blandy said, "Susan, what is the matter with you? You do
not look well." I said, "I do not know what is the matter; I am not
well, but I do not know what is the matter." She said, "What have you
ate or drank?" upon which I said, "Nothing more than the rest of the
family." She said, "Susan, have you eaten any water gruel? for I am
told water gruel hurts me, and it may hurt you." I said, "It cannot
affect me, madam, for I have not eaten any."

What was it Betty Binfield[11] said to you about water gruel?--Betty
Binfield said Miss Blandy asked if I had eaten any of her papa's water
gruel, saying, if I did, I might do for myself, a person of my age.

What time was this?--I cannot say whether it was just after or just
before the time she had spoken to me herself. On the Wednesday
morning, as I was coming downstairs from giving my master his physic,
I met Elizabeth Binfield with the water gruel in a basin which he had
left. I said to the charwoman, Ann Emmet, "Dame, you used to be fond
of water gruel; here is a very fine mess my master left last night,
and I believe it will do you good." The woman soon sat down on a bench
in the kitchen and ate some of it, I cannot say all.

[Illustration: Miss Mary Blandy
(_From an Engraving by B. Cole, after a Drawing for which she sat in
Oxford Castle_.)]

How was she afterwards?--She said the house smelt of physic, and
everything tasted of physic; she went out, I believe into the
wash-house, to reach, before she could finish it.

Did you follow her?--No, I did not; but about twenty minutes or half
an hour after that I went to the necessary house and found her there
vomiting and reaching, and, as she said, purging.

How long did she abide there?--She was there an hour and a half,
during which time I went divers times to her. At first I carried her
some surfeit water; she then desired to have some fair water. The next
time I went to see how she did she said she was no better. I desired
her to come indoors, hoping she would be better by the fire. She said
she was not able to come in. I said I would lead her in. I did, and
set her down in a chair by the fire. She was vomiting and reaching
continually. She sat there about half an hour, or something more,
during which time she grew much worse, and I thought her to be in a
fit or seized with death.

Did you acquaint Miss Blandy with the illness and symptoms of this
poor woman?--I told Miss Blandy when I went into the room to dress
her, about nine o'clock, that Dame (the name we used to call her by)
had been very ill that morning; that she had complained that the smell
of her master's physic had made her sick; and that she had eaten
nothing but a little of her master's water gruel which he had left
last night, which could not hurt her.

What did she say to that?--She said she was very glad she was not
below stairs, for she would have been shocked to have seen her poor
Dame so ill.

As you have lived servant in the house, how did you observe Miss
Blandy behave towards her father, and in what manner did she use to
talk of him, three or four months before his death?--Sometimes she
would talk very affectionately, and sometimes but middling.

What do you mean by "middling"?--Sometimes she would say he was an old
villain for using an only child in such a manner.

Did she wish him to live?--Sometimes she wished for him long life,
sometimes for his death.

When she wished for his death, in what manner did she express
herself?--She often said she was very awkward, and that if he was dead
she would go to Scotland and live with Lady Cranstoun.

Did she ever say how long she thought her father might
live?--Sometimes she would say, for his constitution, he might live
these twenty years; sometimes she would say he looked ill and poorly.

Do you remember when Dr. Addington was sent for on the Saturday?--I
do.

Had Miss Blandy used to go into her father's room after that
time?--She did as often as she pleased till Sunday night; then Mr.
Norton took Miss Blandy downstairs and desired me not to let anybody
go into the room except myself to wait on him.

Did she come in afterwards?--She came into the room on Monday morning,
soon after Mr. Norton came in, or with him. I went in about ten
o'clock again.

What conversation passed between Miss Blandy and her father?--She fell
down on her knees, and said to him, "Banish me, or send me to any
remote part of the world; do what you please, so you forgive me; and
as to Mr. Cranstoun, I will never see him, speak to him, nor write to
him more so long as I live, so you will forgive me."

What answer did he make?--He said, "I forgive thee, my dear, and I
hope God will forgive thee; but thee shouldst have considered better
than to have attempted anything against thy father; thee shouldst have
considered I was thy own father."

What said she to this?--She answered, "Sir, as for your illness, I am
entirely innocent." I said, "Madam, I believe you must not say you are
entirely innocent, for the powder that was taken out of the water
gruel, and the paper of powder that was taken out of the fire, are now
in such hands that they must be publicly produced." I told her I
believed I had one dose prepared for my master in a dish of tea about
six weeks ago.

Did you tell her this before her father?--I did.

What answer did she make?--She said, "I have put no powder into tea. I
have put powder into water gruel, and if you are injured I am entirely
innocent, for it was given me with another intent."

What said Mr. Blandy to this?--My master turned himself in his bed and
said to her, "Oh, such a villain! come to my house, ate of the best,
and drank of the best that my house could afford, to take away my life
and ruin my daughter."

What else passed?--He said, "Oh, my dear! Thee must hate that man,
thee must hate the ground he treads on, thee canst not help it." The
daughter said "Oh, sir, your tenderness towards me is like a sword to
my heart; every word you say is like swords piercing my heart--much
worse than if you were to be ever so angry. I must down on my knees
and beg you will not curse me."

What said the father?--He said, "I curse thee! my dear, how couldst
thou think I could curse thee? No, I bless thee, and hope God will
bless thee and amend thy life;" and said further, "Do, my dear, go out
of my room, say no more, lest thou shouldst say anything to thy own
prejudice; go to thy uncle Stevens, take him for thy friend; poor man!
I am sorry for him." Upon this she directly went out of the room.

Give an account of the paper you mentioned to her, how it was
found?--On the Saturday before my master died I was in the kitchen.
Miss Blandy had wrote a direction on a letter to go to her uncle
Stevens. Going to the fire to dry it, I saw her put a paper into the
fire, or two papers, I cannot say whether. I went to the fire and saw
her stir it down with a stick. Elizabeth Binfield then put on fresh
coals, which I believe kept the paper from being consumed. Soon after
Miss Blandy had put it in she left the kitchen; I said to Elizabeth
Binfield, "Betty, Miss Blandy has been burning something"; she asked,
"Where?" I pointed to the grate and said, "At that corner"; upon which
Betty Binfield moved a coal and took from thence a paper. I stood by
and saw her. She gave it into my hand; it was a small piece of paper,
with some writing on it, folded up about 3 inches long. The writing
was, "The powder to clean the pebbles," to the best of my remembrance.

Did you read it?--I did not, Elizabeth Binfield read it to me.
[Produced in Court, part of it burnt, scaled up with the Earl of
Macclesfield and Lord Cadogan's seals.] This is the paper, I believe,
by the look of it; but I did not see it unfolded. I delivered it into
Elizabeth Binfield's hand on Saturday night between eleven and twelve
o'clock. From the time it was taken out of the fire it had not been
out of my pocket, or anything done to it, from that time till I gave
it her. I went into my master's room about seven o'clock in the
morning to carry him something to drink. When he had drank it, I said,
"I have something to say to you concerning your health and concerning
your family; I must beg you will not put yourself in a passion, but
hear me what I have to say." Then I told him, "I believe, sir, you
have got something in your water gruel that has done you some injury,
and I believe Miss Blandy put it in, by her coming into the washhouse
on Monday and saying she had been stirring her papa's water gruel and
eating the oatmeal out from the bottom." He said, "I find I have
something not right; my head is not right as it used to be, nor has
been for some time." I had before told him I had found the powder in
the gruel. He said, "Dost thou know anything of this powder? Didst
thee ever see any of it?" I said, "No, sir, I never saw any but what I
saw in the water gruel." He said, "Dost know where she had this
powder, nor canst not thee guess?" I said, "I cannot tell, except she
had it of Mr. Cranstoun." My reason for suspecting that was, Miss
Blandy had letters oftener than usual. My master said, "And, now thee
mention'st it, I remember when he was at my house he mentioned a
particular poison that they had in their country," saying, "Oh, that
villain! that ever he came to my house!" I told him likewise that I
had showed the powder to Mr. Norton; he asked what Mr. Norton said to
it; I told him Mr. Norton could not say what it was, as it was wet,
but said, "Let it be what it will, it ought not to be there"; and said
he was fearful there was foul play somewhere. My master said, "What,
Norton not know! that is strange, and so much used to drugs." Then I
told him Mr. Norton thought proper he should search her pockets, and
take away her keys and papers. He said, "I cannot do it, I cannot
shock her so much; canst not thee, when thou goest into her room, take
out a letter or two, that she may think she dropped them by chance?" I
told him, "I had no right to do it; she is your daughter, and you have
a right to do it, and nobody else." He said, "I never in all my life
read a letter that came to my daughter from any person." He desired,
if possible, if I could meet with any powder anywhere that I would
secure it.

Do you remember when Ann Emmet was sick (the charwoman)?--I do, but
cannot say how long or how little a time before this; I remember she
was ill some time before my master's death.

What did the prisoner order the old woman to eat at that time?--She
sent her some sack whey and some broth, I believe, to the value of a
quart or three pints at twice, about once a day, or every other day,
for four or five days.

Have you been ill from what you ate yourself?--I was ill after
drinking a dish of tea one Sunday morning, which I thought was not
well relished, and I believed somebody had been taking salts in the
cup before.

Who was it poured out for?--I believe it was poured out for my master.

Why do you believe that?--Because he used to drink in a different dish
from the rest of the family, and it was out of his dish.

When was this?--This was about six weeks and three days before his
death.

How did you find yourself after drinking it?--I found no ill-effects
till after dinner; I then had a hardness in my stomach, and
apprehended it was from eating plentifully of beans for dinner.

What symptoms had you afterwards?--My stomach seemed to have something
in it that could not digest, and I had remarkable trembling for three
days, and after that for three mornings was seized with a reaching.

Have you since that time been ill from what you ate or drank?--I
tasted the water gruel twice--once on the Tuesday evening when I was
mixing it for my master, and on Wednesday, when I was going to pour it
away, I put the pan to my mouth and drank a little of it.

How did you find yourself after that?--I did not find any remarkable
disorder till the Wednesday morning about two o'clock, before my
master's death; then I was seemingly seized with convulsions. My
throat was very troublesome for five or six weeks after, and seemed a
little soreish and a little swelled. I continued very ill for three
weeks and upwards after my master's death, which was on the Wednesday.
I went to bed sick at two that morning, and applied to Dr. Addington.

Do you remember anything besides letters coming from Mr. Cranstoun?--I
remember she had once a large box of table linen and some Scotch
pebbles in it; she said they came from him.

What time was this?--This was early in the spring, before my master's
death.

Had she more than one box sent to her?--She had a small box sent
afterwards of Scotch pebbles; that might be about three months before
his death, or less, I cannot say.

Did she use to show the pebbles to anybody?--She used to show them to
any person of her acquaintance; but I never heard of any powder to
clean them.

Cross-examined--For a year before the 5th of August last had anything
ailed your master so as to call in the apothecary?--About a year
before he had had a violent cold.

Was he, or was he not, in good health for a year before?--He was
frequently complaining of the gravel and heartburn, which he was
subject to for years.

Did he make any other complaints?--He used to have little fits of the
gout.

Was there any other complaint for seven, eight, nine, or ten
years?--Nothing particular, but that of the heartburn, which I cannot
tell whether I ever heard him complain of before or not.

Can you take upon you to say that he made any particular complaint of
the heartburn more than he had done at any other time?--I cannot say
positively, because I have not continued these things in my memory. He
ordered me to give him some dry oatmeal and water for the heartburn.

Is that good for the heartburn?--I have been told it is very good for
it.

How was her behaviour to her father?--Her general behaviour was
dutiful, except upon any passion or a hasty word from her father.

When did she call her father "old villain"?--She would use expressions
of that kind when she was in a passion.

Upon what account?--For using her ill.

KING'S COUNSEL--Were these expressions made use of before his face or
behind his back?--I have heard her before his face and behind his
back.

PRISONER'S COUNSEL--When have you heard it?--I believe in the last
twelve months, but cannot be sure.

KING'S COUNSEL--Recollect on what occasion?--It has been, I believe,
on little passions on both sides, and that generally from trifles.

PRISONER'S COUNSEL--When did you first communicate your suspicion to
Mr. Blandy about his being poisoned?--On the Saturday morning before
his death, from what I saw on the Wednesday before.

Why did you keep this suspicion of yours from Wednesday to
Saturday?--The reason I did not tell my suspicions to Mr. Blandy
sooner than Saturday was because I stayed for Mr. Stevens, the
prisoner's uncle, who did not come till Friday night; I told him then,
and he desired me to tell Mr. Blandy of it.

Did you ever say anything of it to Miss Blandy?--No, I did not.

Pray, what conversation passed between her father and her down upon
her knees, &c.?--She said, "Sir, how do you do?" He said, "I am very
ill."

Was anything said about Mr. Cranstoun's addresses to her?--Yes, there
was. That conversation was occasioned by a message that Mr. Blandy had
sent to his daughter by me on Monday morning.

What was that message?--That he was ready to forgive her if she would
but endeavour to bring that villain to justice.

Did she say with what intent the powder was given to her?--She said it
was given her with another intent.

Did she say upon what intent?--She did not say that. He did not ask
that.

Was not that explained?--It was no ways explained.

Did he treat her as if she herself was innocent?--He did, sir.

Then all he said afterwards was as thinking his daughter very
innocent?--It was, sir.

As to the ruin of his daughter, did he think it was entirely owing to
Cranstoun?--Mr. Blandy said he believed his daughter entirely innocent
of what had happened.

By what he said to you, do you think that the father thought his
daughter was imposed upon by Cranstoun when he used that expression,
"She must hate the man," &c.?--I do think so; he said, "Where is
Polly?" I answered, "In her room." He said, "Poor, unfortunate girl!
That ever she should be imposed upon and led away by such a villain to
do such a thing!"

Do you imagine, from the whole conversation that passed between her
father and her, that she was entirely innocent of the fact of the
powder being given?--I do not think so; she said she was innocent.

What was your opinion? Did the father think her wholly unacquainted
with the effect of the powder?--I believe he thought so; that is as
much as I can say.

When you told Miss Blandy that the washerwoman was extremely ill,
having ate some water gruel, was anything more said with relation to
the father's having ate some of the same water gruel before?--I don't
remember there was a word said about the father's having ate any of
it.

During the time of his illness was not Miss Blandy's behaviour to her
father with as much care and tenderness as any daughter could
show?--She seemed to direct everything as she could have done for
herself, or any other person that was sick.

Do you know that she was guilty of any neglect in this respect?--No, I
do not, sir.

KING'S COUNSEL--What did he mean when he said, "Poor, unfortunate
girl! That ever she should be imposed upon and led away by such a
villain to do such a thing!" What do you imagine he meant by such a
thing?--By giving him that which she did not know what it was.

COURT--When she told you that water gruel would serve for her father
on the Wednesday did she know that her father had been ill by taking
water gruel on the Monday and Tuesday nights?--She knew he was ill,
but I cannot tell whether she knew the cause of it; and knew that the
charwoman was ill before she proposed my giving him the same gruel,
but did not oppose my making fresh for any other reason than that it
would hinder my ironing.


[Sidenote: E. Binfield]

ELIZABETH BINFIELD, examined--I was a servant to Mr. Francis Blandy at
Henley, and had been almost three years.

When did you first discover his illness and hear him complain of
unusual prickings in has stomach?--About a fortnight before he died.

Did you ever hear Miss Blandy talk of something in the house which she
said presaged his death, or something like it?--I have often heard her
talk of walkings and music in the house that she had heard. She said
she thought it to be her mother, saying the music foretold her
father's death.

Whom has she said so to?--She has told me so.

How long ago?--For some time before her father's death; I believe for
three-quarters of a year.

How long did she continue talking in this manner?--She did till his
death. I have often heard her say he would die before October.

What reasons did she give for that?--By the music, saying she had been
informed that music foretells deaths within a twelvemonth.

Who did she say had informed her so?--She said Mr. Cranstoun had been
to some famous woman who had informed him so, and named one Mrs.
Morgan, who lived either in Scotland or London, I cannot say which.

Did she express herself glad or sorry?--Glad, for that then she should
soon be released from all her fatigues, and soon be happy.

Did she talk of the state of health in which he was?--Sometimes she
has said he has been very well, sometimes ill. I remember I heard her
say that my master complained of a ball of fire in his guts. I believe
it was before the Monday he ate the water gruel. I cannot particularly
say. I believe a fortnight before he died, then she said, Mr.
Cranstoun had told her of that famous woman's opinion about music.

Do you remember the first time one Ann Emmet was taken ill?--It was
about a month or six weeks before.

Do you know what Miss Blandy ordered her in that illness?--I do. She
ordered her some white wine whey, and broth several times. I made it
two or three times, two quarts at a time.

Do you remember a paper being taken out of the fire?--I do. It was on
the Saturday before my master died. I took it out myself.

Should you know it again if you see it?--I believe I should. (She is
shown a paper.) I really believe this is it, which I took out of the
fire and delivered it to Susan Gunnell, after which I had it again
from her, and I delivered it to Dr. Addington and Mr. Norton.

Do you remember Miss Blandy's saying anything about Susan Gunnel's
eating the water gruel?--I do. When Susan was ill she asked me how
Susan did. I said, "Very ill." Said she, "Do you remember her ever
drinking her master's water gruel?" I said, "Not as I know of." She
said, "If she does she may do for herself, may I tell you."

Did she bid you tell Susan so?--She did not bid me tell Susan, but I
did tell her.

What time was this?--It might be about a month or six weeks before Mr.
Blandy's death.

Do you remember any expressions she made use of about her father?--I
heard her say, "Who would grudge to send an old father to hell for
£10,000?" Exactly them words.

When was this?--It was about a month before his death, or it may be
more; I cannot justly tell.

How was this conversation introduced?--She was speaking of young girls
being kept out of their fortunes.

Who was with you at this time?--It was to me, and nobody else.

Have you heard her abuse him with bad language?--I have heard her
curse him, call him rascal and villain.

What was she so angry with her father about?--Mr. Cranstoun was at our
house about three-quarters of a year before Mr. Blandy's death. He
came in August, 1750, and stayed there till near Christmas. It was not
agreeable to my master. We used to think by his temper that he did not
approve of his being so much with his daughter, but I do not believe
he debarred his daughter from keeping his company.

Did you ever hear him say anything to her of his having been once like
to be poisoned?--I was in the kitchen when my master came in to be
shaved. I stayed there till he went out again. Miss Blandy was there,
and he said that once he had like to have been poisoned.

When was it that he said so?--It was on the 10th of August, saying he
was once at the coffee-house or the Lion, and he and two other
gentlemen had like to have been poisoned by what they had drank. Miss
Blandy said, "Sir, I remember it very well." She said it was at one of
those places, and he said no, it was the other. He said, "One of the
gentlemen died immediately, the other is dead now, and I have survived
them both; but it is my fortune to be poisoned at last." He looked
very hard at her during the time he was talking.

What did he say was put into the wine?--I remember he said it was
white arsenic.

When he looked hard at her how did she look?--She looked in great
confusion and all in a tremble.

Did you sit up with Miss Blandy the night after her father died?--I
did till three o'clock. She went to bed about one. She said to me,
"Betty, will you go away with me? If you will go to the Lion or the
Bell and hire a post-chaise I will give you fifteen guineas when you
get into it and ten guineas more when we came to London." I said,
"Where will you go then? Into the north?" She said, "I shall go into
the west of England." I said, "Shall you go by sea?" She said, "I
believe some part of the way." I said, "I will not go." Then she burst
into laughter, and said, "I was only in a joke. Did you think I was in
earnest?" "Yes," said I. "No," said she, "I was only joking."

Did you ever hear Miss Blandy tell Dr. Addington that she had given
your master some of that powder?--I heard Miss Blandy tell the doctor
she had given my master some of that powder before in a dish of tea,
which, she said, he did not drink, and she threw it into the street
out of the window, fearing she should be discovered, and filled the
cup again, and that Susan Gunnell drank it, and was ill for a week
after.

When was this?--This was on the Monday before my master died.

Do you remember what happened on Monday, the 5th of August?--Yes. On
that day I and two washerwomen were in the wash-house. Miss Blandy
came in, and said, "Betty, I have been in the pantry eating some of
the oatmeal out of your master's water gruel." I took no notice of it,
but the same day, in the afternoon, I went into the pantry, and Miss
Blandy followed me, and took a spoon and stirred the water gruel, and,
taking some up in the spoon, put it between her fingers and rubbed it.

What was it in?--It was in a pan. When my master was taken ill on the
Tuesday in the afternoon Miss Blandy came into the kitchen, and said,
"Betty, if one thing should happen, will you go with me to Scotland?"
I said, "Madam, I do not know." "What," says she, "you are unwilling
to leave your friends?" Said I, "If I should go there, and not like
it, it will be expensive travelling back again."

Did she say, "If one thing should happen"? What thing?--I took no
further notice of it then, but those were the words. On the Monday
morning before he died she said to me, "Betty, go up to your master
and give my duty to him, and tell him I beg to speak one word with
him." I did. She went up. I met her when she came out of the room from
him. She clasped me round the neck, and burst out a-crying, and said,
"Susan and you are the two honestest servants in the world; you ought
to be imaged in gold for your honesty; half my fortune will not make
you amends for your honesty to my father."

Cross-examined--Had Mr. Blandy at any time, and when, previous to the
5th of August been ill?--About a twelvemonth before he had been ill
some time, but I cannot tell how long.

What was his illness?--He had a great cold.

Did he take any physic?--I believe he did once or twice.

Can you tell the time?--I believe it was the latter end of July or
beginning of August.

Who made the whey and broth that were sent to the washerwoman?--My
fellow-servant made the whey; I made the broth.

Was she a kind mistress to the washerwoman?--She was. She had a
greater regard for her than any other woman that came about the house.

About this music, who did she say heard it?--She mostly mentioned
herself hearing that.

Was this talk when Cranstoun was there?--I heard her talk so when he
was there and in his absence.

Was it when she was in an angry temper only that she used those words
to her father?--I have heard her in the best of times curse her
father.

Was Susan Gunnell very ill after drinking that tea?--She was, and
continued so for a week.

KING'S COUNSEL--Was it at the time Susan was ill from drinking of the
tea that Miss Blandy asked you about her taking the gruel and said it
would do for her? And did she say anything else?--Miss Blandy said she
poured it out for my master, but he went to church and left it.

PRISONER'S COUNSEL--Have you had any ill-will against her?--I always
told her I wished her very well.

Did you ever say, "Damn her for a black bitch; I should be glad to see
her go up the ladder and be hanged"?--No, sir, I never did in my life.

KING'S COUNSEL--Did you and the rest of the family observe that Mr.
Blandy's looks were as well the last six months as before?--Miss
Blandy has said to me, "Don't you think my father looks faint?"
Sometimes I have said, "He is," sometimes not. I never observed any
alteration at all.

[Here Dr. Addington is appealed to by the counsel for the prisoner.]

PRISONER'S COUNSEL--Do you, Dr. Addington, remember Miss Blandy
telling you on Monday night, the 12th August, that she had on a Sunday
morning, about six weeks before, when her father was absent from the
parlour, mixed a powder with his tea, and that Susan Gunnell had drank
that tea?--I remember her telling me that Monday night that she had on
a Sunday morning, about six weeks before, when her father was absent
from the parlour, mixed a powder with his tea, but do not remember her
saying that Susan Gunnell had drank that tea. I have several times
heard Susan Gunnell say that she was sure she had been poisoned by
drinking tea out of Mr. Blandy's cup that Sunday morning.

Did not Miss Blandy declare to you that she had always thought the
powder innocent?--Yes.

Did she not always declare the same?--Yes.

[The KING'S COUNSEL then interposed, and said that he had not intended
to mention what had passed in discourse between the prisoner and Dr.
Addington; but that now, as her own counsel had been pleased to call
for part of it, he desired the whole might be laid before the Court.]


[Sidenote: Dr. Addington]

Dr. ADDINGTON--On Monday night, the 12th August, after Miss Blandy had
been secured, and her papers, keys, &c., taken from her, she threw
herself on the bed and groaned, then raised herself and wrung her
hands, and said that it was impossible for any words to describe the
horrors and agonies in her breast; that Mr. Cranstoun had ruined her;
that she had ever, till now, believed him a man of the strictest
honour; that she had mixed a powder with the gruel, which her father
had drank on the foregoing Monday and Tuesday nights; that she was the
cause of his death, and that she desired life for no end but to go
through a painful penance for her sin. She protested at the same time
that she had never mixed the powder with anything else that he had
swallowed, and that she did not know it to be poison till she had seen
its effects. She said that she had received the powder from Mr.
Cranstoun with a present of Scotch pebbles; that he had written on the
paper that held it, "The powder to clean the pebbles with"; that he
had assured her it was harmless; that he had often taken it himself;
that if she would give her father some of it now and then, a little
and a little at a time, in any liquid, it would make him kind to him
and her; that accordingly, about six weeks before, at breakfast-time,
her father being out of the room, she had put a little of it into his
cup of tea, but that he never drank it; that, part of the powder
swimming at top of the tea, and part sinking to the bottom, she had
poured it out of the window and filled up the cup with fresh tea; that
then she wrote to Mr. Cranstoun to let him know that she could not
give it in tea without being discovered; and that in his answer he had
advised her to give it in water gruel for the future, or in any other
thickish fluid. I asked her whether she would endeavour to bring Mr.
Cranstoun to justice. After a short pause she answered that she was
fully conscious of her own guilt, and was unwilling to add guilt to
guilt, which she thought she should do if she took any step to the
prejudice of Mr. Cranstoun, whom she considered as her husband though
the ceremony had not passed between them.

KING'S COUNSEL--Was anything more said by the prisoner or you?--I
asked her whether she had been so weak as to believe the powder that
she had put into her father's tea and gruel so harmless as Mr.
Cranstoun had represented it; why Mr. Cranstoun had called it a powder
to clean pebbles if it was intended only to make Mr. Blandy kind; why
she had not tried it on herself before she ventured to try it on her
father; why she had flung it into the fire; why, if she had really
thought it innocent, she had been fearful of a discovery when part of
it swam on the top of the tea; why, when she had found it hurtful to
her father, she had neglected so many days to call proper assistance
to him; and why, when I was called at last, she had endeavoured to
keep me in the dark and hide the true cause of his illness.

What answers did she make to these questions?--I cannot justly say,
but very well remember that they were not such as gave me any
satisfaction.

PRISONER'S COUNSEL--She said then that she was entirely ignorant of
the effects of the powder.

She said that she did not know it to be poison till she had seen its
effects.

Let me ask you, Dr. Addington, this single question, whether the
horrors and agonies which Miss Blandy was in at this time were not, in
your opinion, owing solely to a hearty concern for her father?--I beg,
sir, that you will excuse my giving an answer to this question. It is
not easy, you know, to form a true judgment of the heart, and I hope a
witness need not deliver his opinion of it.

I do not speak of the heart; you are only desired to say whether those
agitations of body and mind which Miss Blandy showed at this time did
not seem to you to arise entirely from a tender concern for her
father?--Since you oblige me, sir, to speak to this particular, I must
say that all the agitation of body and mind which Miss Blandy showed
at this time, or any other, when I was with her, seemed to me to arise
more from the apprehension of unhappy consequences to herself than
from a tender and hearty concern for her father.

Did you never, then, observe in her any evident tokens of grief for
her father?--I never thought I did.

Did she never wish for his recovery?--Often.

Did not you think that those wishes implied a concern for him?--I did
not, because I had before told her that if he died soon she would
inevitably be ruined.

When did you tell her this?--On Sunday morning, the 11th August, just
before I left Henley.

Did not she desire you that morning, before you quitted his room, to
visit him again the next day?--Yes.

And was she not very solicitous that you should do him all the service
in your power?--I cannot say that I discovered any solicitude in her
on this score till Monday night, the 12th August, after she was
confined, and her keys and other things had been taken from her.

KING'S COUNSEL--Did you, Dr. Addington, attend Susan Gunnell in her
illness?--Yes, sir, but I took no minutes of her case.

Did her symptoms agree with Mr. Blandy's?--They differed from his in
some respects, but the most material were manifestly of the same kind
with his, though in a much less degree.

Did you think them owing to poison?--Yes.

Did you attend Ann Emmet?--Yes, sir.

To what cause did you ascribe her disorder?--To poison, for she told
me that, on Wednesday morning, the 7th August, very soon after
drinking some gruel at Mr. Blandy's, she had been seized with
prickings and burnings in her tongue, throat, and stomach, which had
been followed by severe fits of vomiting and purging; and I observed
that she had many other symptoms which agreed with Mr. Blandy's.

Did she say that she thought she had ever taken poison before?--On my
telling her that I ascribed her complaints to poison, which she had
taken in gruel at Mr. Blandy's on the 7th August, she said that, if
she had been poisoned by drinking that gruel at Mr. Blandy's, she was
sure that she had been poisoned there the haytime before by drinking
something else.


[Sidenote: Alice Emmet]

ALICE EMMET, examined--My mother is now very ill, and cannot attend;
she was charwoman at Mr. Blandy's in June last; she was taken very ill
in the night with a vomiting and reaching, upwards and downwards. I
went to Miss Blandy in the morning, by her desire, to see if she would
send her something, as she wanted something to drink, saying she was
very dry. Miss said she would send something, which she did in about
two hours.

Did you tell her what your mother had ate or drank?--No, I did not,
only said my mother was very ill and very dry, and desired something
to drink.


[Sidenote: R. Littleton]

ROBERT LITTLETON, examined--I was clerk to Mr. Blandy almost two
years. The latter end of July last I went to my father's, in
Warwickshire, and returned again on the 9th August, and breakfasted
with Mr. Blandy and his daughter the next morning, which was on a
Saturday. He was in great agony, and complained very much. He had a
particular dish to drink his tea in. He tasted his tea, and did not
drink it, saying it had a gritty, bad taste, and asked Miss whether
she had not put too much of the black stuff in it, meaning Bohea tea.
She answered it was as usual. He tasted it again and said it had a bad
taste. She seemed to be in some sort of a tremor. He looked particular
at her, and she looked very much confused and hurried, and went out of
the room. Soon after my master poured it out into the cat's basin, and
set it to be filled again. After this, when he was not there, Miss
asked me what he did with the tea. I said he had not drunk it, but put
it into the cat's basin in the window; then she looked a good deal
confused and flurried. The next day Mr. Blandy, of Kingston, came
about half an hour after nine in the morning. They walked into the
parlour, and left me to breakfast by myself in the kitchen. I went to
church. When I returned, the prisoner desired me to walk with her
cousin into the garden; she delivered a letter to me, and desired me
to seal and direct it as usual, and put it into the post.

Had you ever directed any letter for her before?--I have, a great
many. I used to direct her letters to Mr. Cranstoun. [He is shown a
letter.] This is one.

Did you put it into the post?--I did not. I opened it, having just
before heard Mr. Blandy was poisoned by his own daughter. I
transcribed it, and took it to Mr. Norton, the apothecary at Henley,
and after that I showed it and read it to Mr. Blandy.

What did he say?--He said very little. He smiled and said, "Poor,
love-sick girl! What won't a girl do for a man she loves?" (or to that
effect).

Have you ever seen her write?--I have, very often.

Look at this letter; is it her own handwriting?--I cannot tell. It is
written worse than she used to write, but it is the same she gave me.

Do you remember Mr. Cranstoun coming there in August, 1750?--I do. It
was either the latter end of July or the beginning of August.

Did you hear any talk about music about that time?--After he was gone
I heard the prisoner say she heard music in the house; this I heard
her say very often, and that it denoted a death in the family.
Sometimes she said she believed it would be herself; at other times it
might be her father, by reason of his being so much broken. I heard
her say once she thought she heard her mother.

Did she say when that death would happen?--She said that death would
happen before October, meaning the death of her father, seeming to me.

Have you heard her curse her father?--I have heard her several times,
for a rogue, a villain, a toothless old dog.

How long was this before her father's death?--I cannot justly tell
that, but I have heard her a great many times within two months of his
death, and a great while before. I used to tell her he was much broken
latterly, and would not live long. She would say she thought so too,
and that the music portended his death.

Cross-examined--When you breakfasted with them in the parlour who was
there first?--She was.

Did you see the tea made?--No, sir.

Did you see it poured out?--No; but he desired me to taste the tea. I
did mine, and said I fancied his mouth was out of taste.

Did not this hurry you say Miss Blandy was in arise from the
displeasure of her father because the tea was not made to his mind?--I
cannot say that, or what it was from.

What became of that he threw into the cat's basin?--He left it there.


[Sidenote: R. Harman]

ROBERT HARMAN, examined--I was servant to Mr. Blandy at the time of
his death. That night he died the prisoner asked me where I should
live next. I said I did not know. She asked me to go with her. I asked
her where she was going? She said it would be £500 in my way, and no
hurt to me if I would. I told her I did not choose to go.

Did she tell you to what place she was going?--She did not.

Did she want to go away at that time of night?--Then, immediately.

Cross-examined--Did she give any reason why she desired to go
away?--No, she gave none.

How long had you lived there?--A twelvemonth.

What has been her general behaviour to her father during the time you
were there?--She behaved very well, so far as ever I saw, and to all
the family.

Did you ever hear her swear about her father?--No, I never did.


[Sidenote: R. Fisher]

RICHARD FISHER, examined--I was one of the jury on the coroner's
inquest that sat on Mr. Blandy's body on Thursday, 15th of August. As
I was going up street to go to market I was told Miss Blandy was gone
over the bridge. I went and found her at the sign of the Angel, on the
other side of the bridge. I told her I was very sorry for her
misfortune, and asked her what she could think of herself to come from
home, and if she would be glad to go home again? She said, "Yes, but
what must I do to get there for the mob?" I said I would endeavour to
get a close post-chaise and carry her home. I went out through the mob
and got one, and carried her home. She asked me whether she was to go
to Oxford that night or not. I said I believed not. When I came to her
father's house I delivered her up to the constables. When we were upon
the inquiry before the coroner a gentleman was asking for some letters
which came in the time of Mr. Blandy's illness. I went to her uncle,
Stevens, to see for them. She then asked me again what the gentlemen
intended to do with her, or how it would go. I said I was afraid very
hard, unless she could produce some letters to bring Mr. Cranstoun to
justice. She said, "Dear Mr. Fisher, I am afraid I have burnt some
that would have brought him to justice." She took a key out of her
pocket, and said, "Take this key and see if you can find such letters
in such a drawer." There was one Mrs. Minn stood by. I desired her to
go with the key, which she did. But no letters were found there. Then
Miss Blandy said, "My honour to him will prove my ruin."

What did she mean by the word "him"?--Mr. Cranstoun--when she found
there were no letters of consequence to be found.


[Sidenote: Mrs. Lane]

Mrs. LANE, examined--I was with my husband at Henley at the sign of
the Angel on the other side of the bridge. There was Miss Blandy. The
first word I heard Mr. Lane, my husband, say was, if she was found
guilty she would suffer according to law, upon which she stamped her
foot upon the ground, and said, "O that damned villain!" then paused a
little, and said "But why should I blame him, for I am more to blame
than he, for I gave it him, and knew the consequence?"

Did she say I knew or I know?--I really cannot say, sir, for I did not
expect to be called for to be examined here, and will not take upon me
to swear positively to a word. She was in a sort of agony, in a very
great fright.


[Sidenote: Mr. Lane]

Mr. LANE, examined--I went into the room where the prisoner was before
my wife the day after Mr. Blandy's death. She arose from her chair,
and met me, and looked hard at me. She said, "Sir, I have not the
pleasure of knowing you." Said I, "No, I am a stranger to you." She
said, "Sir, you look like a gentleman. What do you think they will do
with me?" Said I, "You will be committed to the county gaol, and be
tried at the assizes, and if your innocence appears you will be
acquitted; if not, you will suffer accordingly." She stamped with her
foot, and said, "O! that damned villain! But why do I blame him? I am
more to blame." Then Mr. Littleton came in, which took off my
attention from her that I did not hear so as to give an account of the
whole.

[The letter which Littleton opened, read in Court.] Directed to the
hon. William Henry Cranstoun, Esq.--

  Dear Willy,--My father is so bad, that I have only time to tell you,
  that if you do not hear from me soon again, do not be frightened.
  I am better myself; and lest any accident should happen to your
  letters take care what you write. My sincere compliments. I am ever,
  yours.




The Prisoner's Defence.[12]


[Sidenote: Mary Blandy]

My lords, it is morally impossible for me to lay down the hardships I
have received--I have been aspersed in my character. In the first
place, it has been said that I have spoken ill of my father, that I
have cursed him, and wished him at hell, which is extremely false.
Sometimes little family affairs have happened, and he did not speak to
me so kind as I could wish. I own I am passionate, my lords, and in
those passions some hasty expressions might have dropped; but great
care has been taken to recollect every word I have spoken at different
times, and to apply them to such particular purposes as my enemies
knew would do me the greatest injury. These are hardships, my lords,
extreme hardships, such as you yourselves must allow to be so. It is
said, too, my lords, that I endeavoured to make my escape. Your
lordships will judge from the difficulties I laboured under. I had
lost my father--I was accused of being his murderer--I was not
permitted to go near him--I was forsaken by my friends--affronted by
the mob--insulted by my servants. Although I begged to have the
liberty to listen at the door where he died I was not allowed it. My
keys were taken from me, my shoe buckles and garters, too--to prevent
me from making away with myself, as though I was the most abandoned
creature. What could I do, my lords? I verily believe I must have been
out of my senses. When I heard my father was dead, and the door open,
I ran out of the house and over the bridge, and had nothing on but a
half-sack and petticoat without a hoop--my petticoats hanging about
me--the mob gathered about me. Was this a condition, my lords, to make
my escape in? A good woman beyond the bridge seeing me in this
distress desired me to walk in till the mob was dispersed. The town
serjeant was there. I begged he would take me under his protection to
have me home. The woman said it was not proper; the mob was very
great, and that I had better stay a little. When I came home they said
I used the constable ill. I was locked up for fifteen hours, with only
an odd servant of the family to attend me. I was not allowed a maid
for the common decencies of my sex. I was sent to gaol, and was in
hopes there, at least, this usage would have ended. But was told it
was reported I was frequently drunk; that I attempted to make my
escape; that I never attended the chapel. A more abstemious woman, my
lords, I believe does not live.

Upon the report of my making my escape the gentleman who was High
Sheriff last year (not the present) came and told me, by order of the
higher powers, he must put an iron on me. I submitted, as I always do
to the higher powers. Some time after he came again, and said he must
put a heavier upon me, which I have worn, my lords, till I came
hither. I asked the Sheriff why I was so ironed. He said he did it by
the command of some noble peer on his hearing that I intended to make
my escape. I told them I never had such a thought, and I would bear it
with the other cruel usage I had received on my character. The Rev.
Mr. Swinton, the worthy clergyman who attended me in prison, can
testify that I was very regular at the chapel whenever I was well.
Sometimes I really was not able to come out, and then he attended me
in my room. They likewise have published papers and depositions which
ought not to have been published in order to represent me as the most
abandoned of my sex and to prejudice the world against me. I submit
myself to your lordships and to the worthy jury. I can assure your
lordships, as I am to answer it before that grand tribunal, where I
must appear, I am as innocent as the child unborn of the death of my
father. I would not endeavour to save my life at the expense of truth.
I really thought the powder an innocent, inoffensive thing, and I gave
it to procure his love. It has been mentioned, I should say I was
ruined. My lords, when a young woman loses her character is not that
her ruin? Why, then, should this expression be construed in so wide a
sense? Is it not ruining my character to have such a thing laid to my
charge? And whatever may be the event of this trial I am ruined most
effectually.




Evidence for the Defence.


[Sidenote: Ann James]

ANN JAMES, examined--I live at Henley, and had use to wash for Mr.
Blandy. I remember the time Mr. Blandy grew ill. Before he was ill
there was a difference between Elizabeth Binfield and Miss Blandy, and
Binfield was to go away.

How long before Mr. Blandy's death?--It might be pretty near a quarter
of a year before. I have heard her curse Miss Blandy, and damn her for
a bitch, and said she would not stay. Since this affair happened I
heard her say, "Damn her for a black bitch. I shall be glad to see her
go up the ladder and swing."

How long after?--It was after Miss Blandy was sent away to gaol.

Cross-examined--What was this quarrel about?--I do not know. I heard
her say she had a quarrel, and was to go away several times.

Who was by at this time?--Mary Banks was by, and Nurse Edwards, and
Mary Seymour, and I am not sure whether Robert Harman was there or
not.

How was it introduced?--It happened in Mr. Blandy's kitchen; she was
always talking about Miss.

Were you there on the 5th of August?--I cannot say I was.

Do you remember the prisoner's coming into the washhouse and saying
she had been doing something with her father's water gruel?--No, I do
not remember it.


[Sidenote: E. Binfield]

ELIZABETH BINFIELD, recalled--Did you, Elizabeth Binfield, ever make
use of such an expression as this witness has mentioned?--I never said
such words.

Did you ever tell this witness Miss and you had quarrelled?--To the
best of my knowledge, I never told her about a quarrel.

Have you ever had a quarrel?--We had a little quarrel sometime before.

Did you ever declare you were to go away?--I did.


[Sidenote: Mary Banks]

MARY BANKS, examined--I remember being in Mr. Blandy's kitchen in
company with Ann James.

COUNSEL--Who was in company?--I do not remember.

Do you remember a conversation between Elizabeth Binfield and Ann
James?--I do not remember anything of it.

Do you remember her aspersing Miss Blandy's character?--I do not
recollect.

Did you hear her say, "She should be glad to see the black bitch go up
the ladder to be hanged"?--She did say, "She should be glad to see the
black bitch go up the ladder to be hanged."

When was this?--It was the night Mr. Blandy was opened.

Are you sure it was that day?--I am sure it was.

Where was Miss Blandy then?--She was then in the house.


[Sidenote: E. Herne]

EDWARD HERNE, examined--I formerly was a servant in Mr. Blandy's
family; I went there eighteen years ago, and left them about twelve
years ago last November, but have been frequently at the house ever
since, that is, may be once, twice, thrice, or four times in a week.

What was Miss's general behaviour to her father and in the
family?--She behaved, according to what I always observed, as well to
her father and the family as anybody could do, an affectionate,
dutiful daughter.

Did you see her during the time of Mr. Blandy's illness?--I did. The
first time I went into the room she was not able to speak to me nor I
to her for ten minutes.

What was that owing to?--It was owing to the greatness of her grief.

When was this?--It was the 12th of August, at night.

How did her father seem to be satisfied with her behaviour and
conduct?--She was put into my custody that night; when I went into the
room (upon hearing the groans of her father) she said, at my return,
"Pray, Ned, how does he do?"

Did you ever hear her speak ill of her father?--I never heard her
swear an oath all the time I have known her, or speak a disrespectful
word of her father.

Cross-examined--What are you?--I am sexton of the parish.

On what night did Mr. Blandy die?--On the Wednesday night.

How came you, as she was put under your care, to let her get away?--I
was gone to dig a grave, and was sent for home; they told me she was
gone over the bridge.

Had you any talk with her about this affair?--She declared to me that
Captain Cranstoun put some powder into tea one morning for Mr. Blandy,
and she turned herself about he was stirring it in the cup.

When did she tell you this?--In August, 1750.

Have you seen her since she has been in Oxford Gaol?--I have. When the
report was spread that the captain was taken I was with her in the
gaol; a gentleman came in and said he was taken; she wrung her hands
and said, "I hope in God it is true, that he may be brought to justice
as well as I, and that he may suffer the punishment due to his crime
as she should do for hers."

PRISONER--Give me leave to ask the last witness some questions.

COURT--You had better tell your questions to your counsel, for you may
do yourself harm by asking questions.

PRISONER'S COUNSEL--Did not the prisoner at the same time declare that
as to herself she was totally innocent, and had no design to hurt her
father?--At that time she declared that when Cranstoun put the powder
into the tea, upon which no damage at all came, and when she put
powder afterwards herself, she apprehended no damage could come to her
father.

When she spoke of her own suffering did she not mean the same
misfortune that she then laboured under?--She said she should be glad
Cranstoun should be taken and brought to justice; she thought it would
bring the whole to light, he being the occasion of it all, for she
suffered (by being in prison) and was innocent, and knew nothing that
it was poison no more than I or any one person in the house.


[Sidenote: T. Cawley]

THOMAS CAWLEY, examined--I have known Miss Blandy twenty years and
upwards, and her father likewise; I was intimate in the family, and
have frequently drunk tea there.

What was her behaviour to her father during your knowledge of her?--I
never saw any other than dutiful.


[Sidenote: T. Staverton]

THOMAS STAVERTON, examined--I have lived near them five or six and
twenty years and upwards, and was always intimate with them; I always
thought they were two happy people, he happy in a daughter and she in
a father, as any in the world. The last time she was at our house she
expressed her father had had many wives laid out for him, but she was
satisfied he never would marry till she was settled.

Cross-examined--Did you observe for the last three or four months
before his death that he declined in his health?--I observed he did; I
do not say as to his health, but he seemed to shrink, and I have often
told my wife my old friend Blandy was going.

Had he lost any teeth latterly?--I do not know as to that; he was a
good-looking man.

PRISONER'S COUNSEL--How old was he?--I think he was sixty-two.


[Sidenote: Mary Davis]

MARY DAVIS, examined--I live at the Angel at Henley Bridge; I remember
Miss Blandy coming over the bridge the day that Mr. Blandy was opened;
she was walking along, and a great crowd of people after her. I,
seeing that, went and asked what was the matter; I asked her where she
was going? She said, "To take a walk for a little air, for they were
going to open her father, and she could not bear the house." The mob
followed her so fast was the reason I asked her to go to my house,
which she accepted.

Did she walk fast or slowly?--She was walking as softly as foot could
be laid to the ground; it had not the least appearance of her going to
make her escape.


[Sidenote: R. Stoke]

ROBERT STOKE, examined--I saw the prisoner with Mrs. Davis the day her
father was opened; I told her I had orders from the Mayor to detain
her. She said she was very glad, because the mob was about.

Did you think, from her dress and behaviour, she was about to attempt
to make her escape?--No, it did not appear to me at all.

Cross-examined--Were you there when Mr. and Mrs. Lane came in?--I was.

Did you hear the words she said to Mr. Lane?--I heard nothing at all.


[Sidenote: Mr. Ford]

Mr. FORD--As very unjustifiable and illegal methods have been used to
prejudice the world against Miss Blandy, such as it is to be hoped, no
man will have the boldness to repeat--I mean the printing and
publishing the examination of witnesses before her trial--and as very
scandalous reports have been spread concerning her behaviour ever
since her imprisonment, it is desired that the reverend gentleman who
has attended her as a clergyman may give an account of her conduct
whilst in gaol, that she may at least be delivered of some of the
infamy she at present lies under.

To which he was answered by the Court that it was needless to call a
witness to that, as the jury was only to regard what was deposed in
Court, and entirely to disregard what papers had been printed and
spread about, or any report whatsoever.


[Sidenote: Mr. Bathurst]

Mr. BATHURST--Your lordships will, I hope, indulge me in a very few
words by way of reply, and after the length of evidence which has been
laid before the jury I will take up but little of your lordships'
time.

Gentlemen, you observe it has been proved to a demonstration that Mr.
Francis Blandy did die of poison. It is as clearly proved that he died
of the poison put into his water gruel upon the 5th of August, and
that the prisoner at the bar put it in. For so much appears, not only
from her own confession, but from a variety of other evidence. The
single question, therefore, for your consideration is, whether she did
it knowingly or ignorantly?

[Illustration: Miss Molly Blandy, taken from the life in Oxford Castle
(_From an Engraving in the Collection of Mr. A.M. Broadley_.)]

I admit that in some of the conversations which she has had at
different times with different persons she has said she did it without
knowing it to be poison, or believing it to be so. At the same time I
beg leave to observe (as you will find when their lordships sum up the
evidence to you) that she did not always make the same pretence.

Examine then, gentlemen, whether it is possible she could do it
ignorantly.

It has appeared in evidence that she owned she saw Mr. Cranstoun put
some powder into her father's tea in the month of August preceding,
that she had herself afterwards done the same; but she said she saw no
ill-effect from it, and therefore concluded it was not hurtful. Her
own witness, Thomas Staverton, says that for the past year Mr. Blandy
used to shrink in his clothes, that he made the observation to his
wife and told her his friend Blandy was going. Our witnesses have said
that she herself made the same observation, told them her father
looked very ill, as though he would not live, and said he would not
live till October.

And here let me observe one thing. She says she gave her father this
powder to make him love her. After having heard the great affection
with which the poor dying man behaved towards her, can you think she
wanted any charm for that purpose? After having heard what her own
witnesses have said of the father's fondness for the daughter, can you
believe she had occasion for any love powder?

But one thing more. She knew her father had taken this powder in his
water gruel upon the Monday night, and upon the Tuesday night; saw how
violently he was affected by it, and yet would have had more of the
same gruel given to him upon the Wednesday.

Yet one thing more. When she must have been fully satisfied that it
was poison, and that it would probably be the occasion of his death,
she endeavoured to burn the paper in which the rest of the powder was
contained, without ever acquainting the physicians what she had given
him, which might have been the means for them to have prescribed what
was proper for his relief.

Still one thing more. She is accused upon the Saturday; she attempts to
burn the powder upon the Saturday; and yet upon the Sunday she stays
from church in order to write a letter to Mr. Cranstoun. In that
letter she styles him her "dear Willy," acquaints him her father is so
bad that he must not be frightened if he does not soon hear from her
again; says she is herself better; then cautions him to take care what
he writes lest his letters should fall into a wrong hand. Was this
such a letter as she would have wrote if she had been innocent? if she
had not known the quality of the powder? if she had been imposed upon
by Mr. Cranstoun?

I will only make one other observation, which is that of all our
witnesses she has attempted to discredit only one. She called two
persons to contradict Elizabeth Binfield in regard to a scandalous
expression (which she was charged with, but which she positively
denied ever to have made use of) in saying "she should be glad to see
the prisoner go up the ladder and swing." They first called Ann James;
she swore to the expression, and said it was after Miss Blandy was
sent to Oxford gaol. The next witness, Mary Banks, who at first did
not remember the conversation, and at last did not remember who were
present, said (upon being asked about the time) that she was sure the
conversation happened upon the Thursday night on which Mr. Blandy was
opened, and during the time that Miss Blandy was in the house. These
two witnesses, therefore, grossly contradict one another, consequently
ought not to take away the credit of Elizabeth Binfield. And let me
observe that Elizabeth Binfield proved nothing (besides some few
expressions used by Miss Blandy) but what was confirmed by the other
maidservant, Susan Gunnell.

I will, in justice to the prisoner, add (what has already been
observed by Mr. Ford) that the printing which was given in evidence
before the coroner, drawing odious comparisons between her and former
parricides, and spreading scandalous reports in regard to her manner
of demeaning herself in prison, was a shameful behaviour towards her,
and a gross offence against public justice. But you, gentlemen, are
men of sense, and upon your oaths; you will therefore totally
disregard whatever you have heard out of this place. You are sworn to
give a true verdict between the king and the prisoner at the bar,
according to the evidence now laid before you. It is upon that we (who
appear for the public) rest our cause. If, upon that evidence, she
appears to be innocent, in God's name let her be acquitted; but if,
upon that evidence, she appears to be guilty, I am sure you will do
justice to the public, and acquit your own consciences.

PRISONER--It is said I gave it my father to make him fond of me. There
was no occasion for that--but to make him fond of Cranstoun.




Charge to the Jury.


[Sidenote: Mr. Baron Legge]

MR. BARON LEGGE[13]--Gentlemen of the jury, Mary Blandy, the prisoner
at the bar, stands indicted before you for the murder of Francis
Blandy, her late father, by mixing poison in tea and water gruel,
which she had prepared for him, to which she has pleaded that she is
not guilty.

In the first place, gentlemen, I would take notice to you of a very
improper and a very scandalous behaviour towards the prisoner by
certain people who have taken upon themselves very unjustifiably to
publish in print what they call depositions, taken before the coroner,
in relation to this very affair which is now brought before you to
determine. I hope you have not seen them; but if you have, I must tell
you, as you are men of sense and probity, that you must divest
yourselves of every prejudice that can arise from thence and attend
merely to the evidence that has now been given before you in Court,
which I shall endeavour to repeat to you as exactly as I am able after
so great a length of examination.

In support of the indictment, the counsel for the Crown have called a
great number of witnesses. In order to establish, in the first place,
the fact that Mr. Blandy died of poison, they begin with Dr.
Addington, who tells you that he did attend Mr. Blandy in his last
illness; that he was first called in upon Saturday evening, the 10th
of August last; that the deceased complained that after drinking some
water gruel on Monday night, the 5th of August, he perceived a
grittiness in his mouth, attended with a pricking-burning, especially
about his tongue and throat; that he had a pricking and burning in his
stomach, accompanied with sickness; a pricking and griping in his
bowels; but that afterwards he purged and vomited a good deal, which
had lessened those symptoms he had complained of; that on Tuesday
night, the 6th of August, he took more gruel, and had immediately a
return of the same symptoms, but more aggravated; that he had besides
hiccups, cold sweats, great anxieties, prickings in every external as
well as internal part of his body, which he compared to so many
needles darting at the same time into all parts of him; but the doctor
tells you at the time he saw him he said he was easy, except in his
mouth, his nose, lips, eyes, and fundament, and some transient
pinchings in his bowels, which the doctor then imputed to the purgings
and vomitings, for he had had some bloody stools; that he imputed the
sensations upwards to the fumes of something he had taken the Monday
and Tuesday before; that he inspected the parts affected, and found
his tongue swelled, his throat excoriated and a little swelled, his
lips dry, and pimples on them, pimples on the inside of his nostrils,
and his eyes bloodshot; that next morning he examined his fundament,
which he found surrounded with ulcers; his pulse trembled and
intermitted, his breath was interrupted and laborious, his complexion
yellowish, and he could not without the greatest difficulty swallow a
teaspoonful of the thinnest liquid; that he then asked him if he had
given offence to any person whatever. His daughter the prisoner was
then present, and she made answer that her father was at peace with
all the world, and all the world with him. He then asked if he had
been subject to this kind of complaint before. The prisoner said that
he was subject to the heartburn and colic, and she supposed this would
go off as it used to do; that he then told them that he suspected that
by some means or other he had taken poison, to which the deceased
replied he did not know but he might, or words to that effect; but the
prisoner said it was impossible. He returned to visit him on Sunday
morning, and found him something relieved; that he had some stools,
but none bloody, which he took for a spasm; that afterwards Norton,
the apothecary, gave him some powder, which he said had been taken out
of gruel, which the deceased had drank on Monday and Tuesday; this
powder he examined at leisure, and believed it to be white arsenic;
that the same morning a paper was put into his hands by one of the
maids, which she said had been taken out of the fire, and which she
saw Miss Blandy throw in. There was a superscription on the paper,
"powder to clean the pebbles." There was so little of it that he
cannot say positively what it was, but suspects it to be arsenic, for
he put it on his tongue and it felt like arsenic, but some burnt paper
mixed with it had discoloured and softened it. He tells you that on
Monday morning the deceased was worse; all the symptoms returned, and
he complained more of his fundament than before. He then desired the
assistance of some skilful physician, because he looked upon him to be
in the utmost danger, and apprehended this affair might come before a
court of judicature. He asked the deceased if he really thought he was
poisoned, to which he answered that he really believed so, and thought
he had taken it often, because his teeth rotted faster than usual; he
had frequent prickings and burnings in his tongue and throat, violent
heartburn, and frequent stools, that carried it off again by
unaccountable fits of vomiting and purging; that he had had these
symptoms, especially after his daughter had received a present of
Scotch pebbles from Mr. Cranstoun. He then asked the deceased who he
suspected had given the poison to him; the tears then stood in his
eyes, but he forced a smile and said, "A poor love-sick girl! I
forgive her; I always thought there was mischief in those cursed
Scotch pebbles."

Dr. Lewis came that evening, and Miss Blandy was sent into her
chamber, under a guard, and all papers in her pocket, and all
instruments with which she might hurt herself, or any other person,
and her keys, were taken from her, that nothing might be secreted; for
it was not then publicly known that Mr. Blandy was poisoned, and they
thought themselves accountable for her forthcoming. On Monday night
the deceased mended again, and grew better and worse, unaccountably,
as long as he lived. On Tuesday morning everything growing worse, he
became excessively weak, rambled in his discourse, and grew delirious,
had cold, clammy sweats, short cough, and a deep way of fetching his
breath; and he observed upon these occasions that an ulcerous matter
issued from his fundament. In the midst of all this, whenever he
recovered his senses he said he was better, and seemed quite serene,
and told him he thought himself like a man bit by a mad dog. "I should
be glad to drink, but I can't swallow." About noon his speech faltered
more than before; he grew ghastly, was a shocking sight, and had a
very bad night. On Wednesday morning he recovered his senses a little
and said he would make his will in a few days; but soon grew delirious
again, sunk every minute, and about two in the afternoon he died.

The doctor tells you he then thought, and still thinks, that he died
of poison; that he had no symptoms while he lived, nor after he was
dead, but what are common in people who have taken white arsenic. He
then read some observations which he had made on the appearances of
his body after he was dead; that his back and the parts he lay on were
livid; the fat on the muscles of his belly was loose in texture and,
approached fluidity; the muscles of the belly were pale and flaccid;
the cawl yellower than natural; the side next the stomach and
intestines brownish; the heart variegated with purple spots; there was
no water in the pericardium; the lungs resembled bladders filled with
air, blotted with black, like ink; the liver and spleen were
discoloured, and the former looked as if it had been boiled; a stone
was found in the gall-bladder; the bile was very fluid and of a dirty
yellow colour inclining to red; the kidneys were stained with livid
spots; the stomach and bowels were inflated, and looked liked they had
been pinched, and blood stagnated in the membranes; they contained
slimy, bloody froth; their coats were thin, smooth, and flabby; the
inside of the stomach was quite smooth, and, about the orifices,
inflamed, and appeared stabbed and wounded, like the white of an eye
just brushed by the beards of barley; that there was no appearance of
any natural decay at all in him, and therefore he has no doubt of his
dying by poison; and believes that poison to have been white arsenic;
that the deceased never gave him any reason why he took the same sort
of gruel a second time, nor did he ask him. He tells you, as to the
powder that was given him by Norton, he made some experiments with it
the next day, and some part of it he gave to Mr. King, an experienced
chemist in Reading, who, upon trial, found it to be arsenic, as he
told him; that he twice had powder from Norton, and that what he had
the second time he kept entirely in his own custody and made
experiments with it a month afterwards; that he never was out of the
room while those experiments were making, and he observed them to
tally exactly with other arsenic which he tried at the same time. I
need not mis-spend your time in repeating the several experiments
which the doctor has told you he made of it; he has been very minute
and particular in his account of them, and, upon the whole, concludes
the same to have been arsenic.

Dr. Lewis, the other physician, who has likewise been sworn, stood by
all the while, and confirms Dr. Addington's evidence, tells you he
observed the same symptoms, and gives it absolutely as his opinion
that Mr. Blandy died by poison, of which he has not the least doubt.

The next witness that is called on the part of the Crown is Benjamin
Norton, who is an apothecary at Henley. He tells you he was sent for
to Mrs. Mounteney's, in Henley, on Thursday morning, the 8th of
August; that there was a pan brought thither by Susan Gunnel, Mr.
Blandy's maidservant, with some water gruel in it; that he was asked
what that powder was in the bottom of the pan, to which he replied
that it was impossible to say whilst it was wet in the gruel, but that
he would take it out; that accordingly he did take it out and laid it
upon paper, and gave it to Mrs. Mounteney to keep, which she did till
the Sunday following, when it was delivered to him, and he showed it
to Dr. Addington, to whom he gave some of it twice, and, by the
experiment made upon it with a hot poker, he apprehended it to be of
the arsenic kind; that the powder he gave Dr. Addington was the same
that he received from Mrs. Mounteney; that he has some of it still by
him, which, he now produces in Court. He tells you that he was sent
for to Mr. Blandy on Tuesday, the 6th of August; that he was very ill,
as he imagined, of colic, and complained of a violent pain in his
stomach, attended with reaching and purging and swelling of the
bowels; that he took physic on Wednesday morning, from which he found
himself better; that on Thursday he went there in the morning, but did
not then see him, but went again about twelve o'clock, and then saw
him; he desired to have more physic, which he sent him to take on the
Friday morning; that he has been used to attend Mr. Blandy, but that
he never saw him thus out of order; that the last illness that he had
had was thirteen months before. He tells you that he has heard the
prisoner say that she had heard music in the house, which portended
something, and that Cranstoun had seen her father's apparition, and
this was some months before her father's death; he says that he cannot
tell who it was sent for him, but that when he came he found Mr.
Blandy and the prisoner together; that he asked if he had eaten
anything that had disagreed with him, to which the prisoner made
answer, nothing that she knew of, except some peas on the Saturday
night before; that at that time he did not apprehend anything of
poison, nor did Mr. Blandy mention anything of taking the gruel to
him; that on Saturday the prisoner desired he would take care of her
father, and if there were any danger, call for help; he told her he
thought he was in great danger, and then she begged Dr. Addington
might be sent for. Mr. Blandy himself would have deferred it till the
next day, but she, notwithstanding, sent for him immediately. He tells
you that as to the powder he found it to be gritty, and had no smell;
at first he could not tell what it was till he took notice of the old
woman's symptoms to be the same as Mr. Blandy's; then he suspected
foul play, and from what he heard in the family suspected Miss Blandy.

Mrs. Mounteney is then called, who tells you that she remembers Susan
Gunnell bringing a pan to her house with water gruel and powder at the
bottom of it on Thursday; that she sent for Norton, the apothecary,
who took the powder out, and laid it on white paper, which he gave to
her to keep till it was called for; that she locked it up, and
delivered the same to Norton on the Sunday following; she tells you
that the prisoner always behaved dutifully to her father, as far as
ever she saw, when in his presence; that she did not mention the paper
left with her to anybody till it was fetched away on Sunday morning,
the 11th of August; that she was not at Mr. Blandy's in that time, and
neither saw him nor the prisoner, but she was there on the Sunday
afternoon, though she did not then mention anything of it.

The next witness is Susan Gunnell, who tells you that she carried the
pan of water gruel to Mrs. Mounteney's from Mr. Blandy's, which had
been made at his house the Sunday seven-night before his death by
himself; that she set it in the common pantry, where all the family
used to go, and observed nobody to be busy there afterwards; but on
Monday the prisoner told her she had been stirring her papa's water
gruel and eating the oatmeal out of the bottom; that she gave him a
half-pint mug of it that Monday night before he went to bed; that she
saw the prisoner take the teaspoon that was in the mug, stir it about,
and then put her fingers to the spoon, and rub them together, and then
he drank some part of it; that on Tuesday morning she did not see him
when first he came downstairs, and the first time she saw him was
between nine and ten o'clock, when Miss Blandy and he were together;
that he then said he was not well, and going to lie down; that on
Tuesday evening Robert Harman bid her warm her master some water
gruel, for he was in haste for supper; that she warmed him some of
the same, which Miss Blandy carried into the parlour, and she believes
he ate of it, for there was about half left in the morning; that she
met him that night, after the water gruel, as he was going up to bed;
as soon as he got into the room he called for a basin to reach, and
seemed to be very sick by reaching several times; the next morning
about six o'clock she carries him up his physic, when he told her he
had had a pretty good night, and was better; but he had vomited in the
night, as she judges by the basin, which she had left clean, and was
then about half-full; that on Wednesday the prisoner came into the
kitchen and said to her that as her master had taken physic he might
want water gruel, therefore she might give him the same again, and not
leave her work to make fresh, as she was busy ironing; to which she
answered that it was stale, if there was enough of it; that it would
not take much time, and she would make fresh, and accordingly did so;
that she had the evening before taken up the pan, and disliked the
taste, and thought it stale, but was now willing to taste it again;
that she put the pan to her mouth and drank some of it, and then
observed some whiteness at the bottom, and told Betty Binfield that
she never saw any oatmeal settlement so white before, whereupon Betty
Binfield looked at it, and said "Oatmeal this! I think it looks as
white as flour"; she then took it out of doors, where there was more
light, and putting her finger to the bottom of the pan, found it
gritty, upon which she recollected that she had heard that poison was
white and gritty, which made her fear this might be poison; she
therefore locked it up in a closet, and on Thursday morning carried it
to Mrs. Mounteney's, where Mr. Norton saw it. She tells you that about
six weeks before Mr. Blandy's death she was not very well herself, and
Miss Blandy then asked her what was the matter with her, and what she
had eaten or drank; to which she answered that she knew not what ailed
her, but she had taken nothing more than the rest of the family; upon
which the prisoner said to her, "Susan, have you eaten any water
gruel? For I am told it hurts me, and may hurt you." To which she
answered, "Madam, it cannot affect me, for I have eaten none." She
then mentions a conversation that Betty Binfield told her she had with
the prisoner on the same subject, but that you will hear from Betty
Binfield herself. She then tells you that on the Wednesday morning,
after she had given her master his physic, she saw Ann Emmet, the
charwoman, and said to her, "Dame, you used to be fond of water gruel;
here's a fine mess for you which my master left last night"; and
thereupon warmed it, and gave it her; that the woman sat down on a
bench in the kitchen and drank some of it, but not all, and said the
house smelt of physic, and everything tasted of physic, and she must
go out and reach before she could finish it; that she went out to the
wash-house, as she believes; that in about half an hour she followed
her, and then found her in the necessary-house reaching, and, as she
said, purging; that the old woman stayed there an hour and a half,
during which time she went frequently to her, and carried her surfeit
water; she said she was no better, and desired some fair water, upon
which she persuaded her to come into the house, but she said she was
not able without help; that then she led her in and put her in a chair
by the fire, where the coughing and reaching continued; that she
stayed in the house half an hour, and grew worse, and she thought her
in a fit or seized with death; that about nine of the clock that
morning she went up to Miss Blandy and acquainted her that her dame
had been very ill and complained that the smell of physic had made her
sick, and at the same time told her that she had eaten nothing but a
little of her master's water gruel, which could not hurt her, to which
the prisoner said, "That she was glad she was not below stairs, for
she should have been shocked to have seen her poor dame so ill." She
tells you that sometimes the prisoner talked affectionately of her
father, and at other times but middling, and called him an old villain
for using an only child so. Sometimes she wished for his long life,
and sometimes for his death, and would often say, "That she was very
awkward, and that if her father was dead she would go to Scotland and
live with Lady Cranstoun; that by her father's constitution he might
live twenty years, but sometimes would say she did not think he looked
so well." She remembers Dr. Addington being sent for on Saturday
evening, and tells you that the prisoner was not debarred going into
her father's room till Sunday night, when Mr. Norton brought her down
with him, and told this witness not to suffer any person to go into
her master's room except herself, who looked after him. That about ten
of the clock on Monday morning the prisoner came into the room after
Mr. Norton; that she then fell on her knees to her father, and said,
"Sir, banish me where you please; do with me what you please, so you
do, but forgive me; and as for Cranstoun, I will never see him, speak
to him, or write to him more as long as I live if you will forgive
me." To which the deceased made answer, "I forgive thee, my dear, and
I hope God will forgive thee; but thee shouldst have considered better
before thee attemptedst anything against thy father; thee shouldst
have considered I was thy own father." That the prisoner then said,
"Sir, as to your illness I am entirely innocent." To which the witness
replied, "Madam, I believe you must not say you are entirely innocent,
for the powder left in the water gruel and the paper of powder taken
out of the fire are now in such hands that they must be publicly
produced." The witness then told her that she believed she had herself
taken, about six weeks before, a dose in tea that was prepared for her
master. To which the prisoner answered, "I have put no powder in tea;
I have put powder in water gruel. If you have received any injury I
am entirely innocent; it was given me with another intent." The
deceased hearing this turned himself in his bed, and said, "Oh, such a
villain! Come to my house, eat of the best and drink of the best my
house could afford, should take away my life and ruin my daughter. Oh!
my dear, thee must hate that man; thee must hate the ground he goes
on; thee can'st not help it." That the prisoner replied, "Sir, your
tenderness to me is like a sword to my heart. Every word you say is
like swords piercing my heart, much worse than if you were to be ever
so angry. I must down on my knees and beg you will not curse me." To
which her father answered, "I curse thee, my dear! How shouldst think
I could curse thee? No; I bless thee, and hope God will bless thee,
and amend thy life. Do, my dear, go out of the room; say no more lest
thee shouldst say anything to thy own prejudice. Go to thy Uncle
Stevens; take him for thy friend. Poor man, I am sorry for him." And
that then the prisoner went directly out of the room. This witness
further tells you that on the Saturday before she was in the kitchen
about twelve o'clock at noon, when the prisoner having wrote the
direction of a letter to her uncle Stevens and going to the fire to
dry it, she observed her put a paper or two into the fire, and saw her
thrust them down with a stick; that Elizabeth Binfield, then putting
some fresh coals on, she believes kept the paper from being consumed,
soon after which the prisoner left the kitchen, and she herself
acquainted Betty Binfield that the prisoner had been burning
something; that Betty Binfield asked where, and the witness pointed to
the corner of the grate, whereupon Betty Binfield moved a large coal
and took out a paper and gave it to her; that it was a small piece of
paper with writing upon it, viz., "The powder to clean the pebbles,"
to the best of her remembrance. She did not read it herself, but Betty
Binfield did, and told her what it was; that about eleven or twelve
o'clock that night she delivered this paper to Betty Binfield again,
but it had never been out of her pocket till that time. She tells you
that before this, upon the same Saturday morning, she had been in her
master's room about seven o'clock to carry him something to drink, and
when he had drank it she said to him, "Sir, I have something to
communicate to you which nearly concerns your health and your family,
I believe you have got something in your water gruel that I am afraid
has hurt you, and I believe Miss Blandy put it in by her coming into
the wash-house on Monday and saying that she had been stirring her
papa's water gruel and eating the oatmeal out of it." Upon which he
said, "I find I have something not right. My head is not right as it
used to be, nor has been for some time." This witness told him that
she had found a powder in the pan, upon which he said to her, "Dost
thee know anything of this powder? Didst thee ever see any of it?" To
which she answered, "No, none but what she saw in the water gruel." He
then asked her, "Dost know where she had this powder, or canst guess?"
To which she replied, "I cannot guess anywhere, except from Mr.
Cranstoun. My reason to suspect that is, Miss Blandy has lately had
letters oftener than usual." Her master then said, "Now you mention
it, I remember when he was at my house he talked of a particular
poison they had in his country. Oh! that villain, that ever he came
into my house." She likewise told him that she had shown the powder to
Mr. Norton, but he could not tell what it was, as it was wet, but
whatever it was it ought not to be there. Her master expressed some
surprise, and said, "Mr. Norton not know! That's strange. A person so
much used to drugs." She told him Mr. Norton thought it would be
proper for him (her father) to seize her pockets with her keys and
papers. To which he said, "I cannot do it; I cannot shock her so much.
But canst not thee take out a letter or two which she may think she
has dropped by chance?" The witness told him, "No, sir, I have no
right; she is your daughter. You may do it, and nobody else." She
tells you she cannot say how long before this it was that Ann Emmet
had been sick with the tea; that Miss Blandy then sent her whey and
broth, a quart or three pints at a time, once a day or every other
day; that she herself once drank a dish of tea on a Sunday morning out
of her master's dish, which was not well relished, and she thought
somebody had been taking salts in that cup; and this was about six
weeks and three days before her master's death; that she found no ill
effect from it till after dinner that day; she had then a hardness at
her stomach, which she apprehended was from eating plentifully of
beans at dinner; that afterwards she seemed to have some indigestion,
and had a remarkable trembling upon her; that she had no other
symptoms for three days, but afterwards, for about three days more,
she was troubled with a reaching every morning. She says she tasted
the water gruel twice, once on the Tuesday, when she was mixing it for
her master, and again on the Wednesday, but found no remarkable
disorder till about two o'clock on the Wednesday morning before her
master's death, when she was seized with convulsions. She says that
her throat continued troublesome for six or seven weeks after she had
drank the tea, and continued ill for three weeks after her master's
death. She remembered once that the prisoner had a large box of linen
and some pebbles from Mr. Cranstoun in the spring, before her master's
death, and a small box of Scotch pebbles afterwards, about three
months before his death; that the prisoner showed the pebbles to many
of her acquaintance, but the witness never heard of powder to clean
them; she tells you that about a year before his death her master had
a cold, but she does not remember he was so ill as to send for the
apothecary; that he used to be equally complaining of the gravel,
gout, and heartburn for twelve years; knows nothing particular of any
complaint but the heartburn, and that he may have complained of all
the time she has lived in the house, but she is not positive.

She says the prisoner's behaviour to her father, in general, seemed to
be dutiful, but she used undutiful expressions in her passions; that
there had been no conversation between her master and the prisoner
before her asking forgiveness, but a message sent by him to her that
he was willing to forgive her if she would bring that villain to
justice; in all he said afterwards he seemed to speak of his daughter
as if he believed her innocent of any intention to hurt him, and
looked on Cranstoun as the first mover and contriver of all, and had
said, "Poor, unfortunate girl, that ever she should be led away by
such a villain to do such a thing!" She believes he thought his
daughter unacquainted with the effects of the powder; that the
prisoner during his illness kept him company and directed everything
for him as for herself; the prisoner knew her father was ill on Monday
and Tuesday nights, but would not take upon her to say that she knew
what was the cause of it, but she knew that the charwoman had been ill
on the Wednesday morning before she told the witness that the old
water gruel would serve for her father.

The next witness is Elizabeth Binfield, who tells you that she was a
servant to the deceased almost three years before his death; that he
first complained of unusual pains and prickings about a fortnight
before his death; that she has often heard the prisoner mention
walking and music that she had heard in the house; that she thought it
to be her mother; and three-quarters of a year before her master's
death the prisoner told her that the music presaged his death, and
continued talking in the same way to the time of it; that she has
often heard her say he would die before October; that the prisoner
told her that Mr. Cranstoun had informed her that a famous woman, one
Mrs. Morgan, who lived in Scotland or London, but which the witness
cannot say, had said so; that the prisoner used to appear glad when
she spoke of the prospect of her father's death, for that then she
should be released from all her fatigues and be happy. She tells you
she heard the prisoner say that her father complained of a ball of
fire in his guts before the Monday on which he took the water gruel;
she tells you that she remembers that Ann Emmet, the charwoman, was
ill about five or six weeks before this time, and that the prisoner
ordered her white wine, whey, and broth; that she herself made the
broth two or three times, two quarts at a time. She says that on
Saturday, the 10th of August, the paper was taken out of the fire by
herself, which she looks upon, and says she really believes it to be
the same which she gave to Susan Gunnell, had again from her, and then
delivered to Dr. Addington and Mr. Norton. She tells you that, when
Susan Gunnell was ill, the prisoner asked this witness if Susan had
taken any of her father's water gruel, and upon her answering, "Not
that I know," the prisoner said, "If she does, she may do for herself,
may I tell you." With this conversation she acquainted Susan Gunnell
about a month or six weeks before her master's death, in which
particular she is confirmed by Susan Gunnell. She says, further, that
she heard the prisoner say, "Who would grudge to send an old father to
hell for £10,000?" And this she introduced by talking of young girls
being kept out of their fortunes. She has heard the prisoner often
curse her father and call him rascal and villain. She says that Mr.
Cranstoun had been at her master's about three-quarters of a year
before his death, and she believes her master did not approve of his
being so much with his daughter, as she judged by his temper; but she
does not believe he debarred his daughter from keeping him company.
She says that, upon Saturday, the 10th of August, she was in the
kitchen when her master was shaving, and the prisoner was there, and
her master said he had once like to have been poisoned at a
public-house; to which the prisoner answered that she remembered it
very well. Her master said that one of the company died immediately,
the other is now dead, but it was his fortune to be poisoned at last;
and then looked hard at the prisoner, who appeared in great confusion,
and seemed all in a tremble. Her master said further that it was white
arsenic that was put into their wine. This witness then tells you that
she sat up with the prisoner the night her father died till three
o'clock, but the prisoner went to bed about one; that they had no
discourse at all of her father. But the prisoner asked her if she
would go away with her, and offered, if she would go to the Bell or
the Lion and hire a post-chaise, she would give her fifteen guineas at
getting into the chaise and ten guineas more when they got to London;
that, on the witness refusing to comply with this request, the
prisoner burst into laughter and said she was only joking. She tells
you further that she heard the prisoner tell Dr. Addington that she
had given the powder to her father before, and then it was in tea;
that she was afraid of a discovery, so flung it away, and filled the
cup up again, which Susan Gunnell drank, and was ill for a week after.
She says that upon Monday, the 5th of August, the prisoner came into
the wash-house and said that she had been in the pantry eating oatmeal
out of her father's gruel, which she little regarded then. But the
same day, in the afternoon, she saw the prisoner in the pantry, take a
teaspoon, and stir the water gruel, which was in a pan, and then
rubbed it between her fingers; that on the Tuesday evening the
prisoner came into the kitchen to her and said, "Betty, if one thing
should happen, will you go into Scotland with me?" To which she said,
"Madam, I do not know." "What," says the prisoner, "you are unwilling
to leave your friends?" To which the witness replied that, if she
should go there and not like it, it would be expensive travelling. She
says that on Monday morning, the 12th of August, she went on a message
from the prisoner to beg of her father that she might speak one word
with him, which, being granted, the prisoner went up; and that she
afterwards met the prisoner coming out of her father's room, when she
clasped the witness round the neck, burst out a-crying, and said to
her, "Susan and you are the two honestest servants in the world; you
deserve to be imaged in gold for your honesty; half my fortune will
not make you amends for your honesty to my father." She tells you that
her master had been out of order about twelve months before this time,
and that it was at the time when Susan Gunnell was ill by drinking the
tea that the prisoner cautioned her about Susan's drinking her
father's water gruel.

Dr. Addington having been appealed to by the last witness, in the
course of her evidence, is again called up, and confirms all that this
witness has said, except he does not remember the circumstance of
Susan Gunnell's being ill with the tea.

He says that the prisoner always told him she thought it an innocent
powder, but said it was impossible to express her horror that she was
the cause of her father's death, though she protested that she thought
it innocent when she gave it, for Mr. Cranstoun had assured her that
he used to take it himself, and called it a love-powder; that she had
a letter from him directing her to give it in gruel, as she had
informed him it did not mix in tea; that "for her own part she desired
life for no other purpose than only to go through a severe penance for
her sins"; that, on her being pressed by him to discover all she knew
relating to Cranstoun, her answer was that "she was fully conscious of
her own guilt, and would not add guilt to guilt, for she looked on
Cranstoun as her husband, though the ceremony had not passed between
them." He tells you further that he does not remember that she gave
him any satisfactory answer to any of the questions which he put to
her, which he has repeated to you, and which are very material ones,
but always persisted that she was entirely ignorant of the effects of
the powder till she saw them on her father; and often said, "Pray God
send it may not kill him," after he had told her, and her father too,
the danger of her father, and that he apprehended her to be undone. He
then tells you he attended Susan Gunnell, who had the same symptoms
with the deceased, but in a less degree. He also attended Ann Emmet,
who had the same symptoms, and told her that she was poisoned.

Alice Emmet is then called, who is daughter to Ann Emmet, the old
charwoman, who gives you an account that her mother was charwoman at
Mr. Blandy's in June last, in the time of hay harvest; that she was
then taken sick, was seized in the night-time with a vomiting and
purging, and this witness went in the morning to the prisoner, by her
mother's desire, and acquainted her with the condition she was in;
that the prisoner said she was sorry, and would send her something to
drink, which she did in about an hour or two afterwards.

The next witness is Mr. Littleton, who had been clerk to the deceased
about two years, and tells you he came home from his father's, in
Warwickshire, upon the 9th of August last; that the next morning the
prisoner, her father, and himself were at breakfast together; that
they stayed for the deceased some time; that when he came he appeared
to be ill and in great agony; that he had always a particular cup to
himself; that he tasted his tea and did not like it, but said it had a
gritty, bad taste, and asked the prisoner if she had not put too much
of the black stuff in it (meaning Bohea tea). The prisoner said it was
as usual. He then tasted it again and said it had a bad taste, and
looked very particularly at her. She seemed in a flurry, and walked
out of the room. The deceased then poured the tea into the oat's basin
and went away. Soon after the prisoner came into the room again, when
he told her that he thought the deceased was very ill, for that he
could not eat his breakfast; on which she asked what he had done with
it, and, upon his acquainting her that it was poured into the cat's
basin, she seemed a good deal confused; that the next day, being
Sunday, Mr. Blandy, of Kingston, came to their house, and went to
church along with him; that after they returned from church the
prisoner desired this witness to walk with her and Mr. Blandy in the
garden, when she put a letter into his hand and bid him direct it as
usual, which he understood to be to Mr. Cranstoun (having been used to
direct others before), to seal it, and put it in the post. He tells
you he had then heard so much that he opened the letter, transcribed
it, carried it to Mr. Norton, and read it to the deceased, who only
said, "Poor, love-sick girl! what won't a girl do for a man she
loves?" This letter he has now looked at, tells you that it is written
worse than usual, therefore he cannot swear whether it is her hand or
no, but he can swear it is the same she gave him. The letter itself
has been read to you, and I will make no remarks upon it. He tells you
that after Mr. Cranstoun was gone from Henley, in August 1750, he has
often heard the prisoner say that she heard music, which portended
death in the family, and sometimes thought it might be herself,
sometimes her father, because he was so much broken; that he has heard
her say death would happen before October; that he has often heard her
curse her father, damn him for a rogue and a toothless old dog, within
two months of his death and a great while before; that he has told her
himself that he thought Mr. Blandy seemed broken, upon which she said
she thought so too, and that the music portended his death.

Robert Harman is called next, who tells you that he was servant to Mr.
Blandy at the time of his death; that the night his master died the
prisoner asked him where he should live next, on which he told her he
did not know; and she then asked him if he would go away with her,
and, upon his saying he did not care to do so, she told him no hurt
would come to him, but it would be £500 in his way, and wanted him to
go away then immediately. He says the prisoner behaved well to her
father and all the family, as far as he knows, and never heard her
swear about her father.

The next witness is Richard Fisher, who was one of the jury on
inspection of the body of the deceased. On Thursday, the 15th of
August, he was informed that Miss Blandy was gone over Henley Bridge,
and went to her at the Angel. When he came into the room he told her
he was sorry for her misfortune, and asked her if she would not be
glad to go home again. She said she should, but could not get through
the mob, upon which he got a covered post-chaise and carried her home.
As they were going she asked him if she was to go to Oxford that
night; that he told her he believed not. When he brought her to her
father's house he delivered her up to the constable; that after this
he was upon the jury, and when he went to her again she asked him how
it was likely to go with her, upon which he told her he was afraid
very hardly, unless she could produce letters or papers of consequence
to bring Cranstoun to justice. Upon which she said, "Dear Mr. Fisher,
I have burnt those letters that would have brought him to justice,"
and gave a key out of her pocket to search a drawer for letters; but
none being found, she said, "My honour to him (meaning Cranstoun) will
prove my ruin."

Mrs. Lane is then called, who says she went to the Angel along with
her husband, when the prisoner was there. The first word she heard her
husband say was, if she was guilty she would suffer according to law;
upon which the prisoner stamped on the ground, and the first thing she
heard her say was, "O that damned villain!" then paused a little and
went on again, "But why do I blame him? I am more to blame myself, for
it was I gave it him, and know the consequence." Upon being asked
whether she said "I knew" or "I know," the witness tells you that she
will not be positive which, but the prisoner was in a sort of agony;
whichever way it was, it may make some little difference, but nothing
material.

Mr. Lane, the husband of the last witness, is then called, and tells
you that he went into the room before his wife; that the prisoner rose
and met him, told him he was a stranger to her, but, as he appeared
like a gentleman, she asked him what they would do with her; that he
told her she would be committed to the county gaol, and tried at the
assizes; if her innocence appeared she would be acquitted, if not, she
would suffer accordingly. Upon which she stamped with her foot and
said, "O that damned villain! But why do I blame him? I am more to
blame"; that then Mr. Littleton came in, which took off his attention;
that he did not hear what followed so as to be able to give an account
of it.

The letter from the prisoner to Captain Cranstoun, without any date to
it, which was opened by Littleton, has, then, been read to you, and
with that the counsel for the Crown conclude their evidence.

The prisoner in her defence complains of hard usage she has met with,
denies her ever speaking ill of her father, owns herself to be
passionate, and complains that words of heat upon family affairs have
been misconstrued and applied to an ill intention in her; that she was
not in her senses when she lost her father, nor in a proper dress to
make her escape when she went over Henley Bridge; that she was taken
in at the Angel by the woman of the house out of more compassion, and
was then desirous to put herself under the protection of the town
sergeant; that, during her confinement, she was not suffered to have
decent attendance for a woman; that she was affronted by her own
servants, cruelly traduced, and heavily ironed, without any reasonable
cause; that she thought the powder innocent, and never had a thought
of hurting her father; but her own ruin is effected by such an
imputation upon her, and her appearance here, without her being
convicted. She then calls her witnesses, and the first is Ann James,
who tells you she lives at Henley, and used to wash at Mr. Blandy's
house; that she remembers that some time before Mr. Blandy's illness
there was a difference between the prisoner and Elizabeth Binfield,
and that the latter was to go away; and that she has heard Elizabeth
Binfield curse the prisoner and damn her for a bitch, and say she
would not stay; that since this affair happened she heard her say
(speaking of the prisoner), "Damn her for a black bitch; she should be
glad to see her go up the ladder and swing." She tells you that, when
this conversation happened, the prisoner was gone to gaol, that it was
in Mr. Blandy's kitchen, and that Nurse Edwards, Mary Seymour, and
Mary Banks were present.

Elizabeth Binfield is then called up again, and absolutely denies the
words she is charged with; she says she never acquainted the witness
with any quarrel she had had, to the best of her remembrance, but that
she had some few words of difference with the prisoner, who had said
that she was to go away.

Mary Banks is then called, who says that she was in Mr. Blandy's
kitchen while he was dead in the house; but she does not remember who
was in company, nor any conversation that passed between Elizabeth
Binfield and Ann James till the words are directly put into her mouth,
and then she recollects that Elizabeth Binfield said "she should be
glad to see Miss Blandy, that black bitch, go up the ladder to be
hanged;" but she tells you this was on the night that Mr. Blandy was
opened, and that the prisoner was then in the house.

Those two witnesses are called to impeach the credit of Elizabeth
Binfield as having a prejudice against the prisoner; but I see no
great stress to be laid on their evidence, for they manifestly
contradict one another, but do not falsify her in any one thing she
has said.

The next witness that she calls is Edward Herne, who was a servant to
Mr. Blandy eighteen years ago, and has left his place about twelve
years; but he has been very seldom without going three or four days a
week to his house ever since; that the prisoner's general behaviour to
her father and the family was as well as anybody could do, with
affection and duty, as far as ever he saw; that on the Monday night
before Mr. Blandy died he went to the house, and that neither the
prisoner nor he could speak for some minutes, which he attributed to
her great concern; that she was put into his custody that night; that
on hearing the groans of her father he went into him, at her desire,
to inquire how he did; that he never heard her swear or speak
disrespectfully of her father. He says he was not in the way when she
went over Henley Bridge (being sent to dig a grave, he being sexton);
that he has seen her since her confinement at Oxford, and she told him
that Captain Cranstoun had before put some powder in her father's tea;
that she turned about, and when she turned again he was stirring it
in; that on a report that Captain Cranstoun was taken, she wrung her
hands and said, "She hoped in God it was true, that he might be
brought to justice as well as herself; that as she was to suffer the
punishment due to her crime, he might do so too;" but at the same time
she declared that when Cranstoun put the powder into the tea, and she
herself did so afterwards, she saw no ill effects of it, or saw any
harm from it; but if he were taken it would bring the whole to light,
for she was innocent, and knew no more of its being poison than any
person there.

[Illustration: Miss Mary Blandy, with scene of her Execution
(_From an Engraving by B. Cole, after an original Painting_.)]

Thomas Cawley, the next witness, says that he has known the prisoner
for twenty years and upwards; that he was intimate in the family, and
never saw any other than the behaviour of a dutiful daughter from her.

Thomas Staverton, that he has known the prisoner five- or
six-and-twenty years; that he has lived near the family, and always
thought that her father and she were very happy in each other. He has
observed that Mr. Blandy was declining in his health; for four years
or more he seemed to shrink, and believes he was about sixty-two years
of age.

Mary Davis is the next witness. She lives at the Angel, by Henley
Bridge, and remembers the prisoner coming over the day her father was
opened; that she was walking along with a great crowd after her; that
she went to her and asked her what was the matter, and where she was
going. The prisoner said she was going to walk for the air, for that
they were going to open her father, and that she could not bear the
house. The mob followed so close that she invited the prisoner into
her house, which she accepted, and was walking gently, and had not the
appearance of making an escape.

Robert Stoke tells you he knows the last witness, Mrs. Davis, and saw
the prisoner with her in her house the day her father was opened; that
he was ordered by the mayor to take care of the prisoner, which she
said she was very glad of, because the mob was about; and he did not
observe any inclination or attempt whatsoever to make an escape.

This, gentlemen, is the substance of the evidence on both sides, as
nearly as I can recollect it. I have not wilfully omitted or misstated
any part of it; but if I have, I hope the gentlemen who are of counsel
on either side will be so kind as to set me right.

A very tragical story it is, gentlemen, that you have heard, and upon
which you are now to form your judgment and give your verdict.

The crime with which the prisoner stands charged is of the most
heinous nature and blackest dye, attended with considerations that
shock human nature, being not only murder, but parricide--the murder
of her own father. But the more atrocious, the more flagrant the crime
is, the more clearly and satisfactory you will expect that it should
be made out to you.

In all cases of murder it is of necessity that there should be malice
aforethought, which is the essence of and constitutes the offence; but
that malice may be either express or implied by the law. Express
malice must arise from the previous acts or declarations of the party
offending, but implied malice may arise from numbers of circumstances
relating either to the nature of the act itself, the manner of
executing it, the person killing, or the person killed, from, which
the law will as certainly infer malice as where it is express.

Poison in particular is in its nature so secret, and withal so
deliberate, that wherever that is knowingly given, and death ensues,
the so putting to death can be no other than wilful and malicious.

In the present case, which is to be made out by circumstances, great
part of the evidence must rest upon presumption, in which the law
makes a distinction. A slight or probable presumption only has little
or no weight, but a violent presumption amounts in law to full proof,
that is, where circumstances speak so strongly that to suppose the
contrary would be absurd. I mention this to you that you may fix your
attention on the several circumstances that have been laid before you,
and consider whether you can collect from them such a presumption as
the law calls a violent presumption, and from which you must conclude
the prisoner to be guilty. I would observe further that where that
presumption necessarily arises from circumstances they are more
convincing and satisfactory than any other kind of evidence, because
facts cannot lie.

I cannot now go through the evidence again, but you will consider the
whole together, and from thence determine what you think it amounts
to. Thus far is undeniably true, and agreed on all sides, that Mr.
Blandy died by poison, and that that poison was administered to him by
his daughter, the prisoner at the bar. What you are to try is reduced
to this single question--whether the prisoner, at the time she gave it
to her father, knew that it was poison, and what effect it would have?

If you believe that she knew it to be poison, the other part, viz.,
that she knew the effect, is consequential, and you must find her
guilty. On the other hand, if you are satisfied, from her general
character, from what has been said by the evidence on her part, and
from what she has said herself, that she did not know it to be poison,
nor had any malicious intention against her father, you ought to
acquit her. But if you think she knowingly gave poison to her father,
you can do no other than find her guilty.




The jury consulted together about five minutes and then turned to the
Court.

CLERK OF ARRAIGNS--Gentlemen, are you all agreed on your verdict?

JURY--Yes.

CLERK OF ARRAIGNS--Who shall say for you?

JURY--Our foreman.

CLERK OF ARRAIGNS--Mary Blandy, hold up thy hand (which she did).
Gentlemen of the jury, look upon the prisoner. How say you, is Mary
Blandy guilty of the felony and murder whereof she stands indicted or
not guilty?

JURY--Guilty.

CLERK OF ARRAIGNS--What goods or chattels, lands or tenements, had she
at the time of the same felony and murder committed, or at any time
since to your knowledge?

JURY--None.

CLERK OF ARRAIGNS--Hearken, to your verdict as the Court hath recorded
it. You say that Mary Blandy is guilty of the felony and murder
whereof she stands indicted, and that she has not any goods or
chattels, lands or tenements, at the time of the said felony and
murder committed, or at any time since, to your knowledge, and so you
say all.

CLERK OF ARRAIGNS--Mary Blandy, hold up thy hand. You have been
indicted of felony and murder. You have been thereupon arraigned, and
pleaded thereto not guilty, and for your trial you have put yourself
upon God and your country, which country have found you guilty. What
have you now to say for yourself why the Court should not proceed to
give judgment of death upon you according to law?

CRYER--Oyez! My lords the King's justices do strictly charge and
command all manner of persons to keep silence whilst sentence of death
is passing on the prisoner at the bar, upon pain of imprisonment.

Mr. Baron Legge--Mary Blandy, you have been indicted for the murder of
your father, and for your trial have put yourself upon God and your
country. That country has found you guilty.

You have had a long and a fair trial, and sorry I am that it falls to
my lot to acquaint you that I am now no more at liberty to suppose you
innocent than I was before to presume you guilty.

You are convicted of a crime so dreadful, so horrid in itself, that
human nature shudders at it--the wilful murder of your own father! A
father by all accounts the most fond, the most tender, the most
indulgent that ever lived. That father with his dying breath forgave
you. May your heavenly Father do so too!

It is hard to conceive that anything could induce you to perpetrate an
act so shocking, so impossible to reconcile to nature or reason. One
should have thought your own sense, your education, and even the
natural softness of your sex, might have secured you from an attempt
so barbarous and so wicked.

What views you had, or what was your intention, is best known to
yourself. With God and your conscience be it. At this bar we can judge
only from appearances and from the evidence produced to us. But do not
deceive yourself; remember you are very shortly to appear before a
much more awful tribunal, where no subterfuge can avail, no art, no
disguise can screen you from the Searcher of all hearts--"He revealeth
the deep and secret things, He knoweth what is in the darkness, and
the light dwelleth with Him."

Let me advise you to make the best and wisest use of the little time
you are likely to continue in this world. Apply to the throne of
grace, and endeavour to make your peace with that Power whose justice
and mercy are both infinite.

Nothing now remains but to pronounce the sentence of the law upon you,
which is--

"That you are to be carried to the place of execution and there hanged
by the neck until you are dead; and may God of His infinite mercy
receive your soul."

The prisoner then addressed herself to the judge in this manner--

  "My lord, as your lordship has been so good to show so much candour
  and impartiality in the course of my trial, I have one favour more
  to beg, which is, that your lordship would please to allow me a
  little time till I can settle my affairs, and make my peace with
  God."

To which his lordship replied--"To be sure, you shall have a proper
time allowed you."

On Monday, the 6th of April following, the prisoner was executed at
Oxford, according to the sentence pronounced against her.




APPENDICES.


APPENDIX I.

Proceedings before the Coroner relative to the Death of Mr. Francis
Blandy.

(From No. 2 of Bibliography, Appendix XII.)


_I.--Depositions of Witnesses._

Town of Henley-on-Thames in the County of Oxford. To wit, DEPOSITIONS
OF WITNESSES AND EXAMINATIONS taken on oath the 15th day of August
1751, before Richard Miles, Gent. Mayor and Coroner of the said town;
and also before the jury impannelled to inquire into the cause of the
death of Francis Blandy, Gent. now lying dead.

ANTHONY ADDINGTON of Reading, in the County of Berkshire, Doctor of
Physick, maketh oath and saith, That Mary Blandy, daughter of Francis
Blandy, Gent. deceased, acknowledged to this deponent, that she
received of the Hon. William Henry Cranstoun, a powder which was
called a powder to clean the stones or pebbles, which were sent to her
at the same time as a present; and that Monday, the 5th instant, she
mixed part of the said powder in a mess of water gruel; but said,
that, she did not know that it was poison, till she found the effects
of it on her father; for that the said Mr. Cranstoun had assured her,
that if she gave her father now and then of the said powder in gruel,
or any other thin liquor, it would make him kind to her: And that the
said Mr. Cranstoun assured her, that it was innocent, and that he
frequently took of it himself; and that this deponent received from
Mr. Benjamin Norton, who was apothecary to the said Francis Blandy,
some small portion of a powder, which Mr. Norton said was found at the
bottom of the above-mentioned mess of gruel given to the said Francis
Blandy on the 5th instant, and that this deponent, after examination
of the said powder, suspects the same to be poison.

A. ADDINGTON.

Taken on oath, the 15th day of August, 1751, before me
RICHARD MILES.


WILLIAM LEWIS, of the University of Oxford, Doctor of Physick, maketh
oath and saith, that Mary Blandy, daughter of Francis Blandy, Gent.
deceased, acknowledged to this deponent, that she had frequently given
to her said father, the powder which she had received from the Hon.
William Henry Cranstoun called the powder to clean the stones or
pebbles, which she had received from him, but that she did not know
that the said powder was poison, but that it was intended to make her
father kind to her.

W. LEWIS.

Taken on oath, the 15th day of August, 1751, before me
RICHARD MILES.


EDWARD NICHOLAS of Henley upon Thames, in the County of Oxford,
surgeon, upon his oath saith, that he has examined the body of Francis
Blandy, Gent. deceased, and saith, that he found that the fat on the
abdomen was near a state of fluidity, and that the muscles and
membranes were extremely pale; and that the omentum, was
preternaturally yellow, and that part which covered the stomach was
brownish; that the external part of the stomach was extremely
discoloured with livid spots; the internal part was extremely
inflamed, and covered almost entirely with extravasated blood; the
intestines were very pale and flabby, and in some parts especially,
which were near the stomach, there was much extravasated blood; the
liver was likewise sphacelated, in those parts particularly which were
contiguous to the stomach; the bile was of a very deep yellow; in the
gall bladder was found a stone about the size of a large filbert; the
lungs were covered in every point with black spots; the kidneys,
spleen and heart were likewise greatly spotted; there was found no
water in the pericardium; in short, he never found or beheld a body
in which the viscera were so universally inflamed and mortified.

EDW. NICHOLAS.

Taken on oath the 15th day of August, 1751, before me
RICHARD MILES.


THE DEPOSITIONS AND EXAMINATIONS of A. Addington and William Lewis,
doctors of physick, taken on their respective oaths, the 15th day of
August, 1751, before me

RICHARD MILES,
Mayor and Coroner.


The fat on the abdomen was observed to be near a state of fluidity.

The muscles and membranes were extremely pale.

The omentum was preternaturally yellow, and that part which covered
the stomach was brownish.

The external part of the stomach was extremely discoloured with livid
spots; the internal part was extremely inflamed, and covered almost
entirely with extravasated blood.

The intestines were very pale and flabby, and in those parts
especially which were near the stomach, there was much extravasated
blood.

The liver was likewise sphacelated, in those parts particularly which
were contiguous to the stomach.

The bile was of a very deep yellow; in the gall bladder we found a
stone about the size of a large filbert.

The lungs were covered in every part with black spots.

The kidneys, spleen and heart were likewise greatly spotted; there was
found no water in the pericardium.

In short, we never beheld a body in which the viscera were so
universally inflamed and mortified.

It is our real opinion, that the cause of Mr. Blandy's death was
poison.

A. ADDINGTON.
W. LEWIS.


SUSANNAH GUNNELL, servant to Francis Blandy, Gent. deceased, upon her
oath saith, that some time last week, she this examinant, gave to the
said Francis Blandy some water gruel, and saith, that she observed
that there was some settlement at the bottom of the pan, wherein the
said water gruel was; and saith, that the same was white and gritty,
and settled at the bottom of the pan; and saith, that this deponent,
delivered the said pan, with the gruel and powder settled at the
bottom thereof to Mr. Benjamin Norton, who was apothecary to the said
Francis Blandy.

The mark X of the said

SUSANNAH GUNNELL.

Taken on oath the 15th day of August, 1751, before me
RICHARD MILES.


ROBERT HARMAN, servant to Francis Blandy, Gent. deceas'd upon his oath
saith, that Miss Mary Blandy, told this examinant, that it was
love-powder which she put into her father's gruel, on Monday 5th day
of August last, but that she was innocent of the consequence of it.

ROB. HARMAN.

Taken on oath the 15th day of August, 1751, before me
RICHARD MILES.


BENJAMIN NORTON of Henley upon Thames, in the County of Oxon,
apothecary, upon his oath saith, that on Tuesday the 6th Day of August
instant, he this examinant was sent to Mr. Francis Blandy, deceased,
who then complained of a violent pain in his stomach and bowels,
attended with a violent vomiting and purging; and saith that on the
Thursday morning following, Susannah Gunnell, servant to the said Mr.
Blandy, sent to this examinant, to ask his opinion concerning some
powder she had found in some water gruel, part of which her master had
drunk; that he took out of the said gruel the said powder, and that he
has examined the same, and suspects the same to be poison, and
imagines the powder which was given to the said Francis Blandy, might
be the occasion of his death, for that this examinant believes he was
poisoned.

BEN. NORTON.

Taken on oath the 15th day of August, 1751, before me
RICHARD MILES.


ELIZABETH BINFIELD, late servant to Mr. Francis Blandy, deceased, upon
her oath saith, that about two months ago she heard Miss Mary Blandy
his daughter say, Who would grudge to send an old father to hell for
£10,000, and saith, that she hath heard her often wish her father dead
and at hell; and that he would die next October: and saith that the
said Mary Blandy a few days since declared to this examinant, that on
Monday the 5th day of August instant, she the said Mary Blandy put
some powder, which she called love powder, into some water gruel,
which was given to and eat by her said father: And further saith, that
on the said Monday her said master drank some of the said water gruel,
and saith, that the said Mary Blandy declared to this examinant, that
her said father had told her he had a ball of fire in his stomach, and
that he should not be well till the same was out; and saith, that on
the next day, being Tuesday, her said master continued very ill, and
in the evening he drank some more of the said water gruel, and was
immediately afterwards taken very ill, and reached violently, and went
to bed. On the Wednesday, he the said Francis Blandy took physick, and
about two of the clock the same day, the said Mary Blandy would have
had her said father taken the remainder of the said water gruel, but
the other servant would not let him take it, and was going to throw it
away, when she espied at the bottom of the basen some white stuff, and
called to this examinant to look at it, which she did, and the same
was very white and gritty; and saith, that she heard the said Mary
Blandy, declare to Doctor Addington, that she never attempted to give
her said father any powder but once before, and that she then put it
into his tea, which he did not drink, as it would not mix well.

ELIZ. BINFIELD.

Taken on oath the 15th day of August, 1751, before me
RICHARD MILES,
Mayor and Coroner.


EDWARD HERNE on his oath saith, that he was a servant or writer to
Francis Blandy, Gentleman, deceased; and saith, that during the time
of the illness of the said Francis Blandy, he, this examinant, heard
Mary Blandy, the daughter of the said Francis Blandy, deceased,
declare that she had received some powder, with some pebbles from
Captain Cranstoun, which she said were Love-Powders; and further
saith, that she told him when she received the same from the said
Captain Cranstoun, that he desired that she would administer the same
to her father.

EDW. HERNE.

Taken on oath the 15th day of August, 1751, before me
RICHARD MILES,
Mayor and Coroner.



_II.--Verdict of Jury._

Town of Henley upon Thames in the County of Oxford. To Wit, AN
INQUISITION indented, taken at the house of John Gale, within the town
of Henley upon Thames aforesaid, the 15th day of August, in the 25th
year of the reign of King George the Second, and in the year of our
Lord 1751.

Before Richard Miles, gentleman, Mayor and Coroner of the said town,
upon view of the body of Francis Blandy, gentleman, deceased, now
lying dead, upon the oaths of James Fisher, William Toovey, Benjamin
Sarney, Peter Sarney, William Norman, Richard Beach, L. Nicholas,
Thomas Mason, Tho. Staverton, John Blackman, J. Skinner, James
Lambden, and Richard Fisher, good and lawful men of the said town, who
having been sworn and charged to enquire for our Sovereign Lord the
King, when, where, and by what means and after what fashion the said
Francis Blandy came by his death upon their oaths say, that the said
Francis Blandy was poisoned; and that they have a strong suspicion,
from the depositions of the witnesses, that Mary Blandy, daughter of
the said Francis Blandy, did poison and murder her said father Francis
Blandy, against the peace of our said Lord the King, his Crown and
Dignity. In witness of which act and things, as well the Coroner
aforesaid, as the jurors aforesaid, have to this inquisition set their
hands and seals, the day and year first above written.

This Inquisition was taken the 15th day of August, 1751, before me
R. Miles,
Mayor and Coroner.

JAMES FISHER.         THOMAS MASON.
WILLIAM TOOVEY.       THO. STAVERTON.
BENJAMIN SARNEY.      JOHN BLACKMAN.
PETER SARNEY.         J. SKINNER.
WILLIAM NORMAN.       JAMES LAMBDEN.
RICHARD BEACH.        RICHARD FISHER.
L. NICHOLAS.



_III.--Warrant for Committal of Mary Blandy._

Town of Henley upon Thames in the County of Oxford. To Wit, To the
Constables of the said town, and to each and every of them, and also
to the Keeper of his Majesty's Gaol, in and for the said county of
Oxford.

WHEREAS Mary Blandy, of Henley upon Thames, aforesaid, spinster,
stands charged upon oath before me, with a violent suspicion of
poisoning and murdering Francis Blandy, gentleman, her late father,
deceased: These are in his Majesty's name to require and command the
said Constables, that you, some or one of you, do forthwith convey the
said Mary Blandy to his Majesty's said gaol in and for the said
county, and deliver her to the Keeper thereof: Hereby also requiring
you the said Keeper to receive into the said gaol the body of the said
Mary Blandy, and her there safely to keep until she shall be from
thence discharged by due course of law, and hereof fail not at your
perils. Given under my hand and seal this 16th day of August, 1751.

RICHARD MILES,
Mayor and Coroner.




APPENDIX II.

COPIES OF ORIGINAL LETTERS IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM AND PUBLIC RECORD
OFFICE, RELATING TO THE CASE OF MARY BLANDY.

(_Hitherto Unpublished._)


I. LORD HARDWICKE TO DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.

(B.M. Add. MS. 32,725, f. 216.)


  Wimple, Sept. 27th, 1751.

  My Dear Lord,--I received from Mr. Jones, by your Grace's
  directions, the inclosed papers relating to the Murder of Mr. Blandy
  of Henley. I apprehend, by his letter, that the Question, upon which
  your Grace desires my Opinion is, whether it is proper that the
  Prosecution should be carried on by the order, and at the expense,
  of the Crown? Your Grace observes by Mr. Pauncefort's letter, who is
  a Gentleman of Character & writes like a man of sense, that, as the
  Relations of the Deceased (who must necessarily be also relations to
  the Daughter) are circumstanced, & seem at present disposed, no
  effectual Prosecution can be expected from them; and therefore I am
  clearly of opinion that, if upon Examinations there appears
  sufficient ground to proceed, it is necessary & will be for the
  honour of the Government, that the Prosecution should be carried on
  at the expense of the Crown, & that Mr. Sharpe should be forthwith
  ordered to take the proper steps for that purpose under the
  direction of Mr. Attorney General. There have been several Instances
  of such flagrant offences having been prosecuted at the Government's
  expence. I remember two when I was Solicitor & Attorney General; one
  against two Welshmen, Athowe by name, for a Murder in Pembrokeshire;
  the other against a Woman in Oxford Road, who, in concert with her
  Gallant, murdered her Husband privately, & afterwards cut his body
  in pieces, & packed it up in a Basket.[14] The reason which
  prevailed for both these orders, was that there was ground to
  apprehend that the Criminals might have escaped Justice without such
  an extraordinary Interposition; and that Interposition was much
  applauded by the Public. In the present case it would be a Reproach
  to the King's Justice, and I am sure would create the justest
  concern & Indignation in His Majesty's own mind, if such an
  atrocious Crime of Poisoning & Parricide should escape unpunished,
  by means of the Prosecution being left in the hands of the
  Prisoner's own Relations.

  There is one circumstance in Mr. Pauncefort's letter, which deserves
  particular attention. He says it is thought the Maid and Charwoman
  (who I presume are two material Witnesses) cannot long survive the
  effects of ye Poison they partook of. If that be so, my opinion
  would carry me so far as to think, that a special commission should
  be sent into Berkshire, some days before the next Term, to find a
  Bill of Indictment there, & then the Trial may be had at the King's
  Bench Bar within the next Term; for otherwise no Trial can be till
  the next Spring Assizes, before which time these Witnesses may
  probably dye, if what is repeated be true.

  I have said all this upon a supposition that the Informations &
  Examinations lay a sufficient foundation for a Prosecution, for I
  have not seen any Copies of them. If they do not, _id neo dictum
  esto_. But there your Grace will be pleased to refer to Mr. Attorney
  or Mr. Solicitor.

  There is another matter arising upon the enclosed Papers, which
  ought not to pass without some notice; and that is the behaviour of
  Mr. Carre, the Sheriff-Depute of Berwickshire,[15] and of Richard
  Lowe, the Mayor of Henley's Messenger. The Sheriff-Depute's letter
  contains a strong Charge against Lowe, & Lowe in his examination,
  swears several odd circumstances relating to the Sheriff-Depute, &
  to some relating to himself. Mr. Carre is a Gentleman of good
  Character, but this matter deserves to be enquired into; and I
  submit it to your Grace whether it may not be advisable to transmit
  copies of Lowe's Examination, & of these Letters to my Lord Justice
  Clerk,[16] that he may, in a proper manner enquire into the facts, &
  take such Examinations upon Oath, as he shall think fit. This will
  tend to Mr. Carre's Vindication, if he has done his Duty. If there
  are any material circumstances against Lieut. Cranstoun, some
  further enquiry should be made after him.

  Forgive me for adding one thing more--that it should be pointed out
  to Mr. Attorney to consider whether the crime of the Daughter, who,
  as I apprehend, lived with & was maintained by her Father, may not
  be Petty Treason.

  I am, always, etc.,

  HARDWICKE.



II. LORD HARDWICKE TO DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.

(B.M. Add. MS. 32,725, f. 218.)


  _Private_.

  Wimple, Sept. 27th, 1751.

  My Dear Lord,--I have reserved for this private letter a few words
  relating to Dr. Rooke's affair.... But before I enter into that,
  permit me to make an observation upon the extraordinary method,
  which was taken to apprehend Lieut. Cranstoun. I see, by the dates,
  that the Informations must have been sent up to the Office when Your
  Grace was in Sussex, & therefore the affair did not come before you.
  But surely the right way would have been to have sent a Messenger,
  with the Secretary of State's Warrant. That might have been executed
  with Secrecy, whereas, in the other method, so many persons must be
  apprized of it, that he could hardly fail of getting notice. Tho'
  the Crime was not Treason, nor what is usually called an offence
  concerning the Government; yet being of so black a nature, & the
  Fact committed within the Jurisdiction of England, & the Person
  charged being then within the Jurisdiction of Scotland, it was a
  very proper case for bringing him up by a Secretary's Warrant, which
  runs equally over the whole Kingdom. I say this to Your Grace only,
  & beg it may not be mentioned to anybody. But the circumstances may
  be worth your enquiring into; for I have heard the thing spoken of
  accidently in conversation; & if Cranstoun got off at the time Lowe
  supposes, it may create some clamour. May not this be a further
  reason for the Government shewing a more than ordinary attention to
  ye Prosecution?

  I am, etc.,

  HARDWICKE.

  Duke of Newcastle.



III. DUKE OF NEWCASTLE TO SIR DUDLEY RYDER.

(State Papers, Dom. Entry Books, George II., vol. 134, f. 90.)


  Whitehall, Sept. 27th, 1751.

  Mr. Attorney General,

  Sir,--It having been represented to the King, that the Relations of
  Mary Blandy, who is confined in the Castle at Oxford, upon suspicion
  of having poisoned her Father, the late Mr. Blandy, of Henley upon
  Thames, do not intend to prosecute her for that crime, and
  application having been made, that His Majesty would be pleased to
  give Orders for the Prosecution of the said Mary Blandy; I am
  commanded to signify to you the King's Pleasure, That you should
  immediately enquire into this Affair; and that, in case you should
  find that the relations of the said Mary Blandy do not propose to
  prosecute her for the Murder of her Father, you should forthwith
  take the necessary steps for that Purpose; That so wicked and
  henious a Crime may not go unpunished.

  I am, etc.,

  HOLLES NEWCASTLE.



IV. PETITION OF THE NOBLEMEN AND GENTLEMEN IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF
HENLEY-UPON-THAMES TO DUKE OF NEWCASTLE, WITH THE OPINION OF THE
ATTORNEY-GENERAL THEREON.

(State Papers, Dom. (George II.), Bundle 117, No. 45.)


  Henley upon Thames, 4th Oct., 1751.

  My Lord,--We the Noblemen and Gentlemen in the Neighbourhood of
  Henley upon Thames, and the Mayor and Principal Magistrates of that
  Town, having met there together this day to make farther enquiries
  in relation to the inhuman Murder of the late Mr. Blandy, have
  unanimously agreed to return our sincere thanks to Your Grace for
  your great readiness in promoting all proper measures for bringing
  to Justice the persons concerned in that Horrid and Shocking
  Transaction. And we take this Opportunity of expressing the just
  Sense we have of his Majesty's Paternal Goodness to his people, in
  directing that the person, who is now in Custody, and with the
  greatest reason supposed to be chiefly instrumental in that Uncommon
  scene of Iniquity, should be prosecuted at His Majesty's Expence:
  And we beg leave to assure Your Grace, that no endeavours shall be
  wanting on our part, to render that prosecution successful, and to
  bring to condign punishment not only the Unnatural Daughter of that
  Unhappy Gentleman, but also the Wicked Contriver and Instigator of
  this Cruel Design. But at the same time we take the Liberty of
  representing to Your Grace, as our humble Opinion, that there will
  be little Room to hope that the Original Author & Promoter of this
  Villainous Scheme can be brought to Justice, unless His Majesty will
  further be graciously pleased to offer by Proclamation a proper
  Reward for apprehending Mr. William Henry Cranstoun formerly a
  Lieutenant of Marines, but now an Officer in a Scotch Regiment in
  the Service of the States General; And we Earnestly request Your
  Grace to recommend to His Majesty the Issueing out such a
  Proclamation. We are with the greatest respect,

  Your Grace's Most Obedient And Most Humble Servants.

  MACCLESFIELD.[17]          GISM. COOPER.
  CADOGAN.[18]               EDWD. PAUNCEFORT.
  JAMES LAMBORN, Mayor.      FRANCIS MASON.
  THO. PARKER.               RICHD. MILES.
  GEO. LANE PARKER.          EDWD. PRASSEY.
  JOHN FREEMAN.              JOHN CLARKE.
  SAMBROOKE FREEMAN.         THOS. HALL.
WILLIAM STOCKWOOD, Rectr.

[Annexed to this petition is a copy of the same, with the names of the
petitioners, also copied, and underneath them is written--]

  Mr. Sharpe received this additional paper from the Duke of Newcastle
  with directions from His Grace to lay the same before Mr. Attorney
  General and to desire his opinion.

  _Qu._ Whether it may be advisable to Issue a Proclamation with the
  Offer of a Reward for apprehending Lieut. Cranstoun.

  This is a matter of mere discretion in His Majesty, and as there is
  no objection in point of Law to the Issueing such a Proclamation, so
  if there is any prospect of success in apprehending Cranstoun by
  that means I should think it an advisable measure. But as he has
  certainly notice of an Intent to apprehend him it is probable he may
  be gone beyond sea, to his service. If so the most probable means
  would be to get him seized by the order of the States General or any
  other State where he may be found to be.

  D. RYDER, 14 Oct., 1751.

  [Endorsed] The Noblemen & Gentlemen in the Neighbourhood of Henley
  upon Thames, and the Mayor & principal Magistrates of that Town to
  the Duke of Newcastle.

  Oct. 14th, 1751.

  For your Opinion hereon.

  Mr. Attorney General.

  3 Gs. Sharpe.



V. LORD HARDWICKE TO THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.

(B.M. Add. MS. 32,725, f. 259.)


  Wimple, Oct. 9th, 1751. 4 o'clock p.m.

  Dear Cousin,-- ... I enclose the Representation of the Noblemen
  etc., in the Neighbourhood of Henley relating to the issueing a
  Proclamation for the apprehending of Lieut. Cranstoun. It is
  impossible for me to judge whether this is a proper Case for
  issueing such a Proclamation, without seeing the Examinations &
  proofs of his Guilt, & of the probability of his having fled for it.
  But, if there is proper Evidence of his Guilt, & a probable one
  of his Flight, I think it is a just foundation to issue such a
  proclamation in so flagrant a Case. I submit to My Lord Duke whether
  he will not think it proper to refer the Papers to Mr. Attorney
  General....

  I am, etc.,

  HARDWICKE.



VI. EARL OF MARCHMONT TO DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.

(B.M. Add. MS. 32,725, f. 291.)


  Redbraes Castle, 15th Oct., 1751.

  My Lord,--In obedience to your Grace's commands to the Lord Justice
  Clerk, informing him it was His Majesty's pleasure, he should
  enquire upon oath into the conduct of Mr. Carre of Nisbet advocate,
  our Sheriff, in relation to the apprehending of Mr. Cranstoun; I
  yesterday waited on his Lordship at Duns; & gave him an account of
  what I knew of that matter upon oath. I heard some other examinations
  taken at the same time, & have the pleasure to see that your Grace
  will receive entire satisfaction from this Inquiry.

  I cannot omitt My Lord, upon this occasion expressing to your Grace
  the grateful sense all his Majesty's faithful subjects here have of
  your goodness in ordering this enquiry to be made, without which the
  misrepresentations contained in Lowe's affidavit, with the Justice
  of peace's Commentary, might have lurkt & crept about unobserved in
  the South of England, & his Majesty's subjects here could have had
  no opportunity of removing the injurious imputations cast upon them.

  My Lord Justice Clerk has spared no pains to make the account
  compleat, and it gives me particular pleasure My Lord that your
  Grace will thereby be enabled to form a character of Mr. Carre from
  vouchers free from all suspicion of that partiality which perhaps
  might be thought to attend my recommendations of a friend &
  relation. Your Grace will see that Mr. Carre came from his own house
  with the Lord Justice Clerk, in his Lordship's post-chaise, to dine,
  by a previous appointment, at my house, which is only distant from
  his own half an hours driving; & this in order to have the advice &
  assistance of the Lord Justice Clerk. I am persuaded your Grace will
  think, you could not have wished him to choose a more judicious
  adviser, or a more sagacious Inspector into his conduct. Upon
  examination your Grace will find, that the Lawyers here will reckon
  Mr. Carre rather to have stretched a point to get over the provision
  in our Act of Parliament, in order to grant his Warrant, than to
  have affected any doubt, or dilatoriness upon the occasion. And that
  those Scots Lawyers who have not studied our Law with the same
  superiority of capacity & genius that Mr. Carre has, would hardly
  have consented to give a Warrant, upon the grounds Mr. Carre granted
  it....

  I am, etc.,

  MARCHMONT.

  Duke of Newcastle.



VII. DUKE OF NEWCASTLE TO MR. PAUNCEFORT.

(Sate Papers, Dom. Entry Books (George II.), vol. 134, f. 97.)


  Whitehall, Oct. 31st, 1751.

  Mr. Pauncefort,

  Sir,--Having by His Majesty's Command, directed an Enquiry to be
  made into the Conduct of Mr. Carre, the Sheriff of Berwickshire,
  upon the application that was made to him for causing Lieut.
  Cranstoun to be apprehended; and such an Enquiry having been
  accordingly made by the Lord Justice Clerk; I send you inclosed a
  Letter, which I have received from His Lordship together with the
  several Examinations that have been taken upon that occasion.--I am,
  etc.,

  HOLLES NEWCASTLE.

  _P.S._--I send you the original Papers above mentioned, which you
  will be pleased to return to me as soon as may be.



VIII. MR. PAUNCEFORT TO DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.

(B.M. Add. MS. 32,725, f. 380.)


  Early Court, Nov. 7th, 1751.

  My Lord,--I have had the honour to receive from your Grace, the Lord
  Justice Clerk's Letter, and the Examinations that have been taken in
  persuance of an Enquiry made into the conduct of Mr. Carre the
  Sheriff of Berwickshire, upon the application that was made to him
  for causing Lieutenant Cranstoun to be apprehended, & I should have
  acknowledged the receipt of them by the last Post, but I did not
  return from a Commission of the Navigations, held at a remote part
  of the county, till Wednesday.

  I have in consequence sent an Express to the Earl of Macclesfield,
  to desire a meeting of the Corporation & the neighbouring Gentlemen
  of the County of Oxford at Henley; in order to lay before them the
  several Examinations; and its a particular Happiness to me that I am
  in this instance employed to represent to the Gentlemen of the
  County the Watchfulness & unwearied attention of the Crown to the
  vigorous Execution of the Laws, by having ordered this strict &
  immediate Enquiry to be made into the suspected Neglects & Delays of
  the Sheriff, tho' grounded upon a single Information; as likewise
  that I am made instrumental in the justifying as well as accusing
  the Conduct of the Sheriff; That the complaints of the Messenger
  were without any foundation; & that every thing was done by the
  Sheriff that was consistent with a cautious Magistrate.

  I shall in obedience to your Grace's commands return the
  Examinations to you.

  I am, etc.,

  EDWD. PAUNCEFORT.



IX. MR. WISE TO MR. SHARPE, SOLICITOR TO THE TREASURY.

(State Papers, Dom. (George II.) Bundle 116, No. 36.)


  [No date.]

  Sir,--I was favoured with yr two last letters, and also with yr
  answer to my letter of the 24th Novr. last, wch I acknowledged in
  another letter wch I wrote to you from Mr. Aldworths at Stanlake,
  wherein I gave you an Acct. of a Threatening Letter from Cranstoun
  to Betty Binfield, and wch I find you had sent up to you by Lord
  Macclesfield. On Receipt of your last I set out yesterday morning to
  Ld. Macclesfields, where I lay, and came this day to Oxford, and
  immediately on my arrival went to the Castle where I found Miss
  Blandy with the very same Iron on her Leg wch I saw rivetted on
  myself when last here, and wch I now believe has never been off
  since, for her leg is considerably swelled, and the Red Cloth wch
  was round the Iron before has been cut off to give her room, but it
  is still so close, as renders it impossible to be slipt over her
  Heel. I also find by what I saw myself and by the Report of a
  Gentleman or two in whom I can confide, that Wisdom has kept a much
  stricter Guard over Miss Blandy ever since I was here before than he
  used to do, and that she has not been permitted to walk in the
  Garden once since. However I repeated the contents of your letter to
  him, and remonstrated how very absurd it wd be in him now, not to
  continue ye strictest watch over a person whose Trial will be made a
  Matter of so great Consequence to the Publick, and on whose safe
  custody, for that purpose, his future character & Livelihood would
  intirely depend. I also sent for Mrs. Deane (the person who is with
  Miss Blandy) into the Room with Wisdom, and told her that it would
  be impossible for Miss Blandy to make an Escape without her Privity
  & Assistance, and that if such a thing shd happen, not only the
  Goaler wd be answerable for what ever Act she did towards it, But
  that she herself wd also be imprisoned for Life etc, so that upon
  the whole I dont imagine there is now any fear of her making her
  escape. Parson Swinton is very angry wth the Freedom the letter
  writer has taken with (his) name, and is endeavouring to find out
  the Author of that and many other Reports of the same kind. It is
  owing to his Credulity of her Innocence, that these Jokes have been
  spread, and I find that he is a great favourite of Miss Blandy's. I
  will endeavour to get the Briefs settled in the best manner I am
  able and as soon as I have done, will send you a copy, and
  am--wishing you many happy years.

  Sir,

  Yr Obliged humble Servt.

  EDWD. WISE.

  _P.S._--I promised to write to Ld. Cadogan who went to Town
  yesterday, but as the Post is this instant going, must beg you to
  acquaint his Lordship all is safe.

  [Addressed]

  To John Sharpe Esq. Solicitor to the Treasury at his Chambers in
  Lincolns Inn, London.



X. MR. SHARPE TO MR. WISE.

(State Papers, Dom. (George II.) Bundle 117, No. 90.)


  Dear Sir,--I beg leave to trouble you with another Lre I have reced
  from Lord Macclesfield by last night's Post, and which shews pretty
  plainly that the threatning Lre I gave you yesterday was wrote and
  sent by Cranstoun and that there is great Reason to believe that
  Cranstoun is lying concealed either here in London or in the
  North--I beg you will lay the enclosed before his Grace with my most
  dutifull Respects--and believe me to be with the most real truth and
  esteem,

  Dr Sir, Your most obliged and ever faithfull hble Servt.,

  JN. SHARPE.

  Friday morning, 6th Decr., 1751.



XI. EXAMINATION OF FRANCIS GROPPTTY.

(State Papers, Dom. (George II.), Bundle 118, No. 22.)


The Examination upon Oath of Francis Gropptty of Mount Street, in the
Parish of St. George Hanover Square taken this 3rd Day of Febry 1752.

The Examt says that upon the First Day of September last he was sent
for by the Revd. Mr. Home to his lodgings in the Haymarket, who told
the Examt. that a Gentleman of his, Mr. Homes, acquaintance, was going
to Calais, & as he spoke no French, desired the Examt. to go with him.
The Examt. asked who it was, & after some hesitation Mr. Home told him
it was Capt. Cranston Bror. to Lord Cranston who was accused of having
sent poison to a Miss Blandy, who was suspected to have poison'd her
Father; but that he was inocent, & only wanted to get out of the way
till his Tryal came on, when he would surrender himself.

The Examt. says he made an objection to going & told Mr. Home, that as
he had expectations, from the Recommendations of Lord Home[19] and Sir
Walter Blacket, to the Duke of Grafton, of being made one of the
King's Messengers he was afraid it might hurt him, but Mr. Home
assured him that he could not be brought into the least trouble, and
added that he would oblige him, Mr. Home, Ld. Home & all the family &
that for his satisfaction he would give him a note to Capt. Alexander
Hamilton, who would assure him of the same.

That the Examt. went to Capt. Hamilton, who told him that he knew
where Capt. Cranston was & that if the Examt. would see him safe at
Calais, he would very much oblige Lord Cranston, Ld. Home & all the
Family. The Examt. asked Capt. Hamilton if there had been any
proceedings against Capt. Cranston or if any orders were given to stop
him at Dover? Capt. Hamilton said he would enquire, & the next day
Sepr. 2nd told the Examt. he had enquired & that there had not been
any proceedings against Capt. Cranston nor were there any Orders to
stop him at Dover.

The Examt. says that he lived with Lord Home several years & now does
business for him; that he was willing to oblige his Lordship & not
doubting from the assurances of Mr. Home yt he was doing a right
thing, consented to go to Calais with Capt. Cranston.

That upon the said 2nd of September Capt. Hamilton brought Capt.
Cranston to the Examt's. House; that Capt. Cranston said he had been
rob'd in his way to town of his Money & Portmanteau & seem'd in great
distress. That the Examt. by the Direction of Capt. Hamilton bought
for Capt. Cranston such necessaries as he wanted & Capt. Hamilton went
to Lord Ancrum[20] to borrow Twenty pounds to defray the expence of the
Journey & repay the Examt. the money he had expended. That upon his
return he told Capt. Cranston that Lord Ancrum wd not lend him the
money; says, that Capt. Cranston cried very much & said for God's sake
dear Hamilton get Money somewhere & get me abroad.

That the Examt. seeing the great distress both of Capt. Hamilton &
Capt. Cranston, said that if ten Guineas wd. be of service he wd. lend
Capt. Hamilton that sum, which he accordingly did & took Capt.
Hamilton's Note of Hand, which is still unsatisfied.

That he set out with Capt. Cranston in a Post Chaise for Dover, where
they arrived the next morning Sept. 3rd about 9 o'clock.

That they went to bed at the Post House about 4 o'clock in the
afternoon in the same room, & about half an hour afterwards the Capt.
of the Packet came into the Room & said he was informed they were
going to Calais & desired they would go with him, which they agreed to
& the next morning went with him to Calais & paid a Guinea for their
passage.--Says they had no discourse at all with the Capt. of the
Packet during the Passage.

The Examt. says he took Lodgings & agreed for Board for Capt. Cranston
at Calais at the Rate of Fifty Livres a Month & upon the 6th Sept.
returned in the same Packet to Dover. That upon his passage back the
Capt. of the Packet said he believed the person who went with the
Examt. to Calais was very glad to be landed, for that he seemed very
uneasy; The Examt. answered may be so, & no other discourse happened
upon the subject.

That the Capt. of the Packet observed that he thought he had seen the
Examt. at Harwych, the Examt. said very likely for that he had passed
from thence to Holland with his master Lord Home during the War.

The Examt. absolutely denies that he passed or attempted to pass for a
King's Messenger, or that he mentioned the name of his Grace the Duke
of Newcastle, nor was his Grace's name mentioned; nor did any
Discourse what so ever pass about Messengers.

That upon his return to London he waited upon Mr. Home to acquaint him
that he had landed Capt. Cranston safe at Calais. Mr. Home expressed
himself very much obliged & assured the Examt. he would represent to
his Brother & Lord Cranston the trouble he had had, & did not doubt
but they would be equally obliged & reward him very well. The Examt.
said he did not expect any reward, that what he had done was out of
gratitude to Lord Home & his family & was very glad he had had it in
his power to oblige them: & the Examt. said the same to Capt. Hamilton
& never kept it a secret from any body, but talked of his having gone
over with Capt. Cranston in common discourse & before anybody.

That the Examt. made out an Acct. of the Expences he had been at &
delivered it to Capt. Hamilton, which amounted, with the money lent,
to eighteen pounds, for which sum Capt. Hamilton gave him a Bill of
exchange upon Ld. Cranston, which Bill the Examt. sent to Scotland to
Lord Cranston, who having kept it near six weeks return'd it unpaid;
and the Examt. has not yet recd. the money.

And lastly the Examt. says that he arrived in England with his Master
at the end of the late War, & has not been out of England since that
time except to Calais with Capt. Cranston as aforesaid.

FRANCIS GROPPTTY

this 3rd Feb., 1752.

Taken upon Oath; before L. Stanhope.




APPENDIX III.

A LETTER FROM A CLERGYMAN TO MISS MARY BLANDY, NOW A PRISONER IN
OXFORD CASTLE; WITH HER ANSWER THERETO. AS ALSO MISS BLANDY'S OWN
NARRATIVE OF THE CRIME FOR WHICH SHE IS CONDEMNED TO DIE.

(No. 3 of Bibliography, Appendix XII.)

(The original copy of this letter, in Miss Blandy's own handwriting,
for the satisfaction of the public, is left with the publisher.)


March 14, 1752.

Reader,--Condemn no person rashly. Thou has already, perhaps, passed
sentence upon this unfortunate. But remember, that God alone knows the
secrets of the heart; and that circumstances spring many times from
motives which it is impossible for man to discover.

The following letter was written to this unhappy lady by a clergyman,[21]
after her receiving sentence of death.


A LETTER TO MISS BLANDY.

  March 7, 1752.

  Dear Miss,--Had it been at my own option, I never would have chose
  to be the least concerned in your unhappy affair; but since divine
  providence, without my own seeking, has thought fit to order it
  otherwise, I shall, from obligations of compassion and humanity,
  offer some things to your serious consideration. Your power of
  receiving benefit from my advice, is but of short duration; may God
  grant that you may rightly use this. That you believe in God, in the
  immortal nature of the soul, in Jesus Christ, and in a future state
  of rewards and punishments, I am willing to persuade myself. As to
  the unworthy man who has tempted you to your ruin, I have good
  grounds to believe him to be an infidel. If he has communicated such
  principles to you, to render you more capable of executing his
  wicked purposes, your persisting therein will ruin your poor soul
  for ever. The moment you enter into that awful state of separation,
  you will be eternally convinced of your error. The very devils
  believe a God, and tremble.

  You will, perhaps, express surprise at my entertaining a doubt of
  this nature. What? You that have been so constant at public worship,
  that have so frequently participated of the most sacred rite of the
  Christian religion, to be thought an infidel? Alas! Miss, externals
  are but the husks of piety; they are easy to the hypocrite. The body
  may bow down in the house of God, yet the soul do homage to Belial.
  God forbid, that this should touch you.

  And indeed to be sincere, when on the one hand I view the arguments
  of your guilt, and, on the other, behold your strong assertions of
  innocence, to the hazarding of the soul, if untrue, I am greatly
  perplexed, I know not what to say or believe. The alternative, I
  presume, is, you are either a believer and innocent, or an infidel
  and guilty. But that holy religion which I profess, obliging me, in
  all cases of doubt, to incline to the most charitable construction;
  I say, that I am willingly persuaded, that you believe in the above
  mentioned truths, and are in some degree innocent.

  You have, dear Miss, applied to temporal counsel, with regard to the
  determination of your body. They have failed. Your life is forfeited
  to justice. You are already dead in the eye of the law. Oh! Miss,
  the counsels which my poor understanding gives, is spiritual; may
  they be more successful: May God grant that the fate of your soul
  may not resemble the fate of your body! May it not perish and die
  for ever!

  Now, Miss, you must necessarily be in one of these two situations;
  you must either be innocent, by not designing to hurt your father;
  or you designed to kill your father, and are guilty, and conceal
  your guilt for private reasons. Permit me to offer something upon
  each of these heads.

  If it should be the case, that you are innocently the cause of Mr.
  Blandy's death, which Heaven grant! if you harboured not a thought
  of injuring your unhappy father, you have the greatest of all
  comforts to support you. You may think upon that last and awful
  tribunal, before which all the sons of Adam shall appear, and from
  which no secret is hid. There will be no injustice. Innocence will
  be vindicated. The scheme of Providence will be then unfolded. There
  your patience under your sufferings and resignation to the decrees
  of Heaven will be rewarded. Your errors and failings God will pity
  and have mercy upon; for he remembers whereof we are made. You may
  face the ignominious tree with calmness. Death has no stings to
  wound innocence. Guilt alone clothes him with terrors (to the guilty
  wretch he is terrible indeed!). And at the resurrection, and at the
  last day, you will joyfully behold Jesus Christ your Saviour, join
  the triumphant multitudes of the blessed, and follow them into the
  everlasting mansions of glory.

  The other point I am about to speak to, is upon a supposition of
  your guilt. God direct me what to say! If you repent, you will be
  saved. But what repentance can be adequate to such crimes? O Miss!
  your infamous end is a satisfaction due to human laws. But there is
  another satisfaction which God expects to be made for such a
  dreadful violation of laws divine. Once, Miss, you had two fathers
  to provide for and protect you; one by the ties of Nature, the other
  by the bonds of grace and religion. And now your earthly parent is
  your accuser, and your heavenly one your judge. Both are become your
  enemies. Good God! what deep distress is this! where can misery like
  this find comfort and relief? O Miss! the only anchor which can
  preserve your soul from perishing, is your blessed Saviour. Believe
  in Him; whatsoever you ask in His name, believing, God will grant.
  For to them that believe, all things are possible. Unburthen your
  whole soul. Pour out your fervent prayers to God. Remember, that
  infinite mercy is glorified in the vilest sinners. If there are any
  accessaries to this horrid crime, discover them. Make all possible
  reparation for injuries you have done. Heartily forgive, and pray
  for your enemies and more particularly for all concerned in the
  Prosecution against you. Detest your sins truly, and resolve to do
  so for the time to come, and be in charity with all men. If you
  perform these things truly and sincerely, your life, which sets in
  gloomy clouds, shame and darkness, may, by the mercies of God, rise
  in glory, honour and brightness.

  But perhaps, Miss, to your everlasting hazard, you will not confess
  your guilt, for some private reasons. And what must these be?

  You may possibly then imagine, that if you confess your crime to
  God, you are not obliged to confess to the world. Generally speaking
  God is the sole confessor of mankind; but your case is a particular
  exception to this rule. You will want the assistance of God's
  ministers. But how is it possible for you to receive any benefit
  from them, if you do not represent to them the true state of your
  soul without any disguise? A secret of this nature, smothered in the
  breast, is a fire which preys upon, and consumes all quietness and
  repose. Consider too the imminent danger of a lie of this nature;
  consider the justice due to your accusers, to your judges, and to
  the world.

  But you will say, confession of my crime cuts off all hope of Royal
  Mercy. Dear Miss, do not indulge yourself in such a thought. Prepare
  for the worst. Consider how pernicious flattery of this nature is.
  Remember that God is only a God of mercy in this; in another life,
  he is a God of justice.

  I can hardly think that shame has any share in the concealment of
  your guilt; for no shame can exceed that which you have already
  suffered. Besides, confession is all the amends you can make; and
  mankind know experimentally how frail and imperfect human nature is,
  and will allow for it accordingly.

  And thus, dear Miss, have I wrote to you, with a sincere view to
  your everlasting happiness. If during this dismal twilight, this
  interval between life and death, I can serve you, command me. The
  world generally flies the unfortunate, rejoices in evil, triumphs
  over distress; believe me glad to deviate from such inhumanity. As
  the offices of friendship which you can receive from me are confined
  to such a short period, let them be such as concern your everlasting
  welfare. The greatest pleasure I can receive (if pleasure can arise
  from such sad potions), will be to hear that you entertain a
  comfortable assurance of being happy for ever. Which that you may
  be, is the fervent prayer of, etc.

Whether or no this gentleman, in the above letter, has not urged
the matter home to Miss Blandy, is submitted to the judgment of the
public.


Here follows _verbatim_ her answer.

  Monday, March 9, 1752.

  Reverend Sir,--I did not receive your's till Sunday night late; and
  now so ill in body, that nothing but my gratitude to you for all
  your goodness could have enabled me to write. I have with great care
  and thought often read over your kind advice; and will, as well as
  the sad condition I am in will give me leave, speak the truth.

  The first and most material to my poor soul is, that I believe in
  God the Father, and in His blessed Son Jesus Christ, who, I verily
  believe, came into the world to save sinners; and that He will come
  again to judge the world; and that we must all give an account in
  our own bodies, and receive the reward of a good or ill spent life;
  that God is a God of Justice, but of mercy too; and that by
  repentance all may be saved.

  As to the unworthy man you mention, I never heard finer lessons come
  from any one. Had he, Sir, shewn really what he may be (an infidel),
  I never should have been so deceived; for of all crimes, that ever
  shocked me most. No, Sir, I owe all my miseries to the appearances
  of virtue; by that deceived and ruined in this world, but hope
  through Christ to be pardoned. I was, and never denied it, the fatal
  instrument; but knew not the nature of, nor had a thought those
  powders could hurt. Had I not destroyed his letters, all must have
  been convinced; but, like all the rest, he commanded, and I obeyed
  and burnt them. There is an account, as well as I was able to write,
  which I sent to my Uncle in London. That I here send you. God knows
  never poor soul wrote in more pain, and I now am not able hardly to
  hold my pen. But will not conclude this without explaining the true
  state of my mind. As I did not give this fatal powder to kill or
  hurt my poor father; I hope God will forgive me, with repentance for
  the ill use I have made of that sense he gave me, and not be for
  ever angry with me. Death I deserve, for not being better on my
  guard against my grand enemy; for loving and relying too much on the
  human part. I hope (when all is done that friends can do for me to
  save that life which God has given me, and which if to last these
  hundred years, would be too short for me to repent, and make amends
  for the follies I have committed) I shall have such help from my
  God, as to convince my poor friends I die a Christian, and with
  hopes of forgiveness through the merits of our Advocate and Mediator
  Jesus Christ.

  I beg, my dear sir, you will excuse my writing more, and will
  believe I am truly sensible of your goodness to me. May God bless
  you, sir, and send you happiness here and hereafter. I beg my duty
  to my poor uncle; pray him to forgive, and pity, and pray for me. I
  beg my tenderest wishes to Mrs. Mounteney; and if she can serve me
  with the Bishop of W----[22] or any other, I know she will do it.
  Pray comfort poor Ned Hearne, and tell him I have the same
  friendship for him as ever. And pray, sir, continue your friendship
  and good wishes to,

  Reverend Sir,

  Your truly affected, Much obliged humble Servant,

  MARY BLANDY.

  _P.S._--I beg, for very just reasons to myself and friends, that
  this letter and papers may soon be returned to me; that is, as soon
  as you have done with them. You will oblige me, if you keep a copy
  of the letter; but the real letter I would have back, and the real
  papers, as being my own handwriting, and may be of service to me, to
  my character after my death, and to my family.

There is no occasion of hinting to the judicious reader that in this
letter it is plain that Miss Blandy twice solemnly declares her
innocence.

But let us now proceed to Miss Blandy's own relation of an affair
which has so much engrossed the attention of the public.

Miss Blandy's narrative referred to in the foregoing letter:--

O! Christian Reader!

My misfortunes have been, and are such, as never woman felt before. O!
let the tears of the wretched move human minds to pity, and give ear
to my sad case, here wrote with greatest truth. It is impossible
indeed, in my unhappy circumstances, to recollect half of my
misfortunes, so as to place them in a proper light. Let some generous
breast then do that for the miserable, and God will reward goodness
towards an unhappy, deceived, ruined woman. Think what power man has
over our sex, when we truly love! And what woman, let her have what
sense she will, can stand the arguments and persuasions men will make
use of? Don't think that by this I mean, that I ever was, or could
have been persuaded to hurt one hair of my poor father's head. No;
what I mean is Cranstoun's baseness and art, in making me believe that
those powders were innocent, and would make my father love him. He
gave my father some himself more than a year before he died, and said,
when he gave it him, that he (Cranstoun) had took several papers of it
himself. I saw nothing of any ill effects from these powders on my
father; nor did he complain of any one disorder, more than what he has
ever been subject to above these ten years, the gravel and the
heartburn; but never complained of the heartburn, except when he had
the gravel coming on him; and he never was less afflicted with those
disorders than during the last year of his life, in which he never
took one medicine from his apothecary, as he made oath in Court.

Mr. Cranstoun, soon after he gave these powders to my father, said to
me, do you not see that your father is kinder to me? I now will
venture to tell him, that I cannot get the appeal lodged this Sessions
(meaning his affair in Scotland); upon which he went to my father's
study, and told him. They both came out together in great good humour,
and my father said not one word against my waiting another Sessions.

Mr. Cranstoun came to our house in the beginning of August, or latter
end of July, staid with us some months, and then he said he was
obliged to go for Scotland. My father seemed not pleased with him at
first, but they parted in great friendship, I thought; and I received
a letter from Cranstoun (which is now among my papers) full of respect
and tenderness for my father. But soon after he was gone my father,
who had either heard some ill of him, or was tired of so long an
affair, told me to let Mr. Cranstoun know, that I should wait the next
Sessions; but he must not come to his house till his affairs in
Scotland were settled. I obeyed his commands, and had a letter full of
love, and seeming misery, back in answer to mine; that he found that
he had lost my father's love, and feared he should mine too. He got
his mother and sisters to write to my father, and seemed to do all in
his power to force him to love him.

Some time after this he sent me word, that he had met with his old
friend Mrs. Morgan in Scotland, and that he would get some of those
powders he had before; and begged of me, if I loved him, to give them
to my father; for that they would make him kind to us again in this
affair, and make him stay with patience till the next Sessions; when,
upon his word, the appeal should be lodged. I wrote him back word, I
did not care for doing it, lest it should hurt my father's health. He
wrote me word, that it was quite innocent, and could not hurt him; and
how could I think that he would send any thing to hurt a father of
mine? and that self-interest would be reason enough lor him to take
care of his health.

Now, in this place, I must beg to clear up one thing, that I imagined
my poor father rich, and that Mr. Cranstoun did the same. As to
myself, it is, by all that's good, false. I have often told Mr.
Cranstoun, I knew my father was not worth what the world said; but
that if he lived I did not doubt but he would provide for us and ours,
as his business was so great, and life retired. I then supposed that
Mr. Cranstoun meant, by saying, that his own interests would make him
careful, to refer to such discourse.

Mr. Cranstoun's having then such strong reasons to know how necessary
my father's life must be, and I believing his honour to be so great,
and that his love was still greater; these were the reasons of my not
mistrusting that the powder would hurt my father, if I mixed it with
his tea. It not mixing well, I threw it away, and wrote him word, I
would not try it again, for it would be discovered. This they bring
against me. But is it not, reasonable to imagine, that if any person
was to discover that a powder had been given them, to force them to
love anyone, would not a discovery of this nature produce a very
different effect? Would it not fix resentment? This would have been,
at that time death to me; such was my opinion of Cranstoun, and for
this reason I used the aforesaid words.

But to proceed. On my writing to Mr. Cranstoun, that it would not mix
in tea, he told me to mix it in gruel. I received the powders in June;
but did not put any into his gruel till the 5th of August; when I
fatally obeyed Mr. Cranstoun's orders, and was innocently the
instrument of death, as they say, to the best of fathers; brought
disgrace to my family, and shameful death to myself, unless my hard
case, here truly repented, recommends me to Royal pity, clemency and
compassion. And as I here declare, and as I look upon myself as a
dying woman, I never did design to hurt my father, but thought the
powder innocent, as Cranstoun told me it was. Let me be punished for
my follies, but not lose my life. Sure, it is hard to die for
ignorance, and too good an opinion of a villain! Must the falsities
and malice which I have been pursued with, prevail so far as to take
away my life? O consider my misfortunes, and indeed it will fill your
eyes with tears; you must pity me, and say, never was poor soul so
hardly used. But peace, my heart. I gave my father the powder on
Monday night; on Tuesday he complained. I sent for the apothecary; who
came, and said he would send him some physic. In the evening my father
said he would have some water gruel. I never went out to order this,
and knew not whether it was the same or no as he had on Monday, as
that he drank on Monday was made either on Saturday or Sunday.
However, on the Wednesday my father took physic, and was better; came
all Thursday down into the parlour, as also on Friday; Mr. Norton, by
my desire, all this time attending him very often. And Mr. Norton did
in the Court declare, that I was the person that did send for a
physician, and would have sent before, if thought necessary. When I
found my father so ill, I sent, unknown to him, for Dr. Addington. The
doctor said, he believed he was in great danger. I desired Dr.
Addington to attend him, and come the next day; which he did. On
Monday morning going into my father's room early (for though I never
from his first disorder left him long in the day, yet his tenderness
would not let me sit up all night with him), I was denied to see him.
This so surprised and frightened me, that I cried out, What? Not see
my father? On which I heard my father reply, My dear Polly, you shall
presently; and some time after I did. That meeting and parting, and
the mutual love, sorrow, and grief, is truly described by Susanna
Gunnel; though poor soul she is mistaken in some other respects.

I was after this confined in my room by Dr. Addington's own orders;
during which confinement, as I am informed, my father wanted to see
some body, and it was imagined to be me. But, alas! I was not
suffered. The night before he died, my father sent his blessing to me,
with his commands to bring that villain to justice. I sent him answer
back, I would do all in my power to hang that villain, as he rightly
called him.

But the usage which I received in my father's house, unknown to him I
am sure, is shocking to relate. My going to listen at his door, the
only comfort left me, to hear if he was asleep was denied me. All my
keys were taken from, me--my letters--my very garters. My maid-servant
never came near me, helpless as I was by grief and fits. This I bore
patiently, being fearful of disturbing my father, as our rooms joined.
The man who was with me can witness to my sufferings, how often I
wished for instant death to take me, and spare my dear father, whom
never child loved better; whose death alone, unattended with these
misfortunes, would have been an excessive shock to me.

When Dr. Addington, and Dr. Lewis (who was called in it seems) came
into the room, and told me, that nothing could save my ever dear
father; for a considerable time I sat like a stone image; and then
told them, that I had given my poor father some powders which
Cranstoun had given me, and feared those had hurt my father, though
Cranstoun assured me that they would not.

It is not in human nature to declare what I suffered at that time. God
grant that no one ever may again.

When my father was dead, though mistress of myself, my keys, servants,
two horses in the stable, all my own; yet I never quitted my room.
Though none dared to molest me, I never stirred. They say, that I
walked about my room for hours; but I hardly remember anything. Much
is now said of my trying to bribe my servants. How contrary to truth!
As for bribing Betty my cook; of all my servants she was my greatest
enemy throughout my misfortunes; and an attempt to bribe her must
surely be the strongest instance of lunacy, of one not in her right
mind. I own I should have been glad not to have gone to jail; as who
would not? But then I would with pleasure have resigned myself up at
the Assizes, and stood the chance of life or death. I did not at that
time imagine, that I had such enemies, or that human nature could be
so wicked and abandoned. On the Thursday my father was to be opened.
In the morning Suzanna Gunnel sent for me, being indisposed: When I
saw her, she begged that I would bring Mr. Cranstoun to justice, which
was the request and command of her dying master; and that if anything
gave him concern in his last moments, it was an apprehension of his
escaping, being a man of quality, and interest among the great. I
replied that I would do all in my power, and went down into my room
again.

Soon after Dr. Lewis came into my room, and I found by him that my
poor father's body was to be opened as that morning. As soon as he was
gone, I could not bear to stay in the house, but walked out. Let
reason judge whether I intended an escape. My dress was an half-sack
and petticoat, made for a hoop, and the sides very long; neither man
nor horse to assist me; and, as they say, I walked as slow as foot
could fall; half the town at my heels; and but for the mercy of a
woman, who sheltered me in her house, had perhaps lost my life. When I
was sent for back by the Justices, the gentlemen who conveyed me to my
house, witnessed that I thanked him. Surely this cannot be interpreted
an attempt to escape.

In consequence then of the words which, during these melancholy and
distracting scenes, I had spoke to Dr. Addington, that I was innocent
of the nature of the powders, but had given them to my father, I was
sent to prison, where I was till my trial, and am now in safe custody.
The untruths which have been told of me, the messengers sent after me,
to see if I was safe, the putting me in Irons (though so weak and ill,
that my own body was too much to carry about), the baseness and
wickedness of printing the depositions to hurt me with the jury; under
all this I bore up from knowing my innocence.

But give me leave to mention what happened at my trial. I was brought
to the Bar; and must do the judges, and all the gentlemen of the law,
that justice, that they used me as a gentlewoman should be, though
unfortunate. I must, however, observe, that when the judges read and
summed up the evidence, or indeed when anything was said in Court,
there was such a noise, that the jury, I am sure, could not hear the
evidence; and I hope I shall be forgiven, if I say, that some of them
seemed not to give that attention I think they ought. Nay, the judges
were often obliged to speak for silence in the Court, and bid them for
shame let the jury hear and attend. When all the witnesses were
examined on both sides, the judge gave his charge like a man fit to
hold the sword of justice; and my council and friends were in great
hopes for me. But, most surprising treatment! without going out of the
Court, without being any time consulting, their verdict was, Guilty!
God's will be done. My behaviour at my trial, and when sentence was
passed, I leave to the world. My enemies, as they have done all along,
may misinterpret it, and call innocence and Christian courage hardened
guilt. But let them know, that nothing but innocency could stand the
shock of such repeated misfortunes, and prospect of death.

O Christian reader! remember what blessings will attend you for
defending the orphan, the injured, and the deceived. And if the dead
are sensible what the living do; what prayers must not dear parents
pour out before the throne of mercy for such charity, for endeavouring
to rescue their only child and much-loved daughter from a shameful
death. Drop pen; my spirits, harrassed out with sorrow, fail. God
Almighty preserve you and yours from such misfortunes, and receive my
poor soul into the arms of his mercy, through Jesus Christ. Amen.

Whosoever thou art, whose eyes drink in this sad and moving tale,
indulge one tear. Remember the instability of sublunary things, and
judge no man happy till he dies.




APPENDIX IV.

MISS MARY BLAND'S OWN ACCOUNT OF THE AFFAIR BETWEEN HER AND MR.
CRANSTOUN, FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF THEIR ACQUAINTANCE IN THE
YEAR 1746 TO THE DEATH OF HER FATHER IN AUGUST, 1751, WITH ALL
THE CIRCUMSTANCES LEADING TO THAT UNHAPPY EVENT.

(No. 8 of Bibliography, Appendix XII.)


My acquaintance with Mr. Cranstoun, who was lieutenant of a regiment
of marines, commenced at Lord Mark Kerr's,[23] in one of the summer
months, as I at present apprehend, of the year 1746. At first we
entertained of each other only sentiments of friendship, I being upon
the point of marrying another gentleman; which, for some prudential
reasons, was soon put off, and at last came to nothing. Some months
after our first interview, Mr. Cranstoun left Henley; and, about the
following summer, returned to his uncle, Lord Mark Kerr, who lived at a
house he had hired in that town, called Paradise. After his arrival at
Henley, our friendship continued for some time; in one part of which I
told him, as a friend that wished me well, of another advantageous
match that had been proposed to me; but at the same time declared to
him, that I was afraid the gentleman was not formed to make me happy.
Upon this, he asked me, "whether or not I preferred mutual love to the
grandeur of life?" To which I replied, "I preferred the man I loved
and esteemed to all others." This induced him to make a proposal to me
in the following terms: "Miss Blandy, I have upon my hands an unhappy
affair, which to you I have made no secret of; I can assure you,
before I speak what follows, I am not now married, nor never was; tho'
by the nature of the Laws of Scotland, I am involved in some
difficulties brought upon me by that affair, out of which it will be
some time before I can extricate myself. Do you think you could love a
man well enough to stay till this affair be brought to a
determination? I have, added he, wished such a proposal might take
effect from the very first moment that I saw you; but my honour would
not permit me to make it in form, till the invalidity of my pretended
marriage did appear to the whole world." To this I made no reply, as
Lord Mark Kerr at that instant came into the garden; Mr. Cranstoun and
I being then at his house. The next day Mr. Cranstoun came to my
father's, and renewed the discourse; on which I told him, that "if my
Papa and Mamma would approve of my staying for him, I readily
consented thereto." After this he took the first opportunity of
speaking to my Mamma upon the same subject; and he received from her
the following answer: "Sir, you do my daughter an honour; but I have
understood, that you have a perplexing affair upon your hands, and it
is reported that you are married." He then made answer, "Madam, as I
have a soul to be saved, I am not, nor ever was." To which she
replied: "Very well, Mr. Cranstoun, I will take your word as to that;
but I have many more reasons to give you why I disapprove of your
proposal. In the first place, you are a man of fashion., and I believe
your fortune small; my daughter has been brought up with great rare
and tenderness, and as neither of you seem to me cut out to live upon
a small fortune, you would both like to live in a manner suitable to
your station." To which she added, "I can assure you, Mr. Cranstoun,
had my daughter £10,000 and in my disposal, I would give her to you
with the greatest pleasure. There is one thing, continued she, I
think, Mr. Cranstoun, I ought to inform you of. Notwithstanding the
world reports Mr. Blandy to be able to give his daughter down a
handsome fortune, I am sure he cannot do it; tho' I was ever made a
stranger to his circumstances." To which he replied, "If Mr. Blandy
will give me his daughter, I shall not trouble him about that." This,
as far as I can recollect, is the substance of what passed on Mr.
Cranstoun's first making his addresses to me.

After the last conference, my mamma and Mr. Cranstoun had several
others to the same effect; the last of which was followed by Mr.
Cranstoun's journey to Bath. He attended his uncle. Lord Mark Kerr,
thither; but before he left Henley, he obtained my father's leave to
correspond with me. He went to Bath, if my memory fails me not, in the
latter season of the year 1747; after I had been above a year
acquainted with him. He staid at Bath about five or six weeks; and,
after his return to Henley, lived at our house, with my father's and
mother's approbation, five or six months. At the end of this term, he
went up to town; and, within a few days after his arrival there, wrote
to my father, to beg; the favour of him to comply with his request,
that I might be permitted to stay for him till his unhappy affair with
Miss Murray (for so was his supposed wife called) was finally
determined. This, he said, he was assured, by the best judges, must
end in a little time with certain success: which, as he added, would
make him the happiest man living; and he doubted not but he should
communicate the same degree of happiness to me, by the tender
treatment I should meet with from him. My father gave the letter to me
with a smile, and told me, "that was a letter which he believed I
should read with some pleasure." After I had read it, I said, "What
will you answer it, sir?"' To which he replied, "Not at all." Upon
this, looking earnestly at him, said, "Not at all, papa?" "No,"
replied he, "you shall answer it yourself." "In what manner, sir?"
subjoined I. "As," returned he, "is most agreeable to you." To which,
however, he thought fit to add, "Tho' I give you leave in this manner,
yet if you are prudent you will not think of having a man of quality
without any fortune, when you may marry a man with a very ample one,
of as good a gentleman's family as any in England: But, continued he,
if you can be contented, I'll do what I can to make you happy with
him. I believe he loves you, and mutual love must make the
marriage-state happy." Mr. Blunt, the owner or proprietor of Paradise,
the house inhabited by Lord Mark Kerr, was then at my father's, and
knew, if I am not mistaken, from whom the letter came. Be that as it
will, no more passed on this subject at that time. The next post I
informed Mr. Cranstoun, that "My papa had given me leave to write to
him whatever I pleased; in consequence of which I should take the
liberty to assure him, that I would stay for him, and accept of no
other offer till his affair was brought to a decision; and that if it
was not determined in his favour, I doubted whether I should accept of
any ever after." Tho' I did not see Mr. Cranstoun for several months,
our correspondence still continued; letters passing and repassing
between us almost every post.

During this interval, my mamma went to a place called Turville Court,
to the house of one Mrs. Pocock; where she was seized with a disorder,
that it was thought would have proved fatal to her. Through the whole
course of her illness, when in her senses, she constantly cried out,
"Let Cranstoun be sent for:" On which, I at last sent for him. He was
then at Southampton; which, by the miscarriage of one of his letters,
I was ignorant of. But the very night he reached London, he set out
for Turville Court, and arrived there about ten o'clock at night. As
soon as he came to Mrs. Pocock's house, he was instantly taken up into
my mother's chamber, which greatly refreshed and revived her; for she
immediately raised herself up in bed, took him about the neck, and
kissed him in the most affectionate manner. At the same time, she
said, "My dear Cranstoun, I am glad you are come; I now shall grow
well soon." Nor would she take any medicines, but from his hand,
saying, "My poor nurse must not be jealous (meaning her daughter)
since loving him I knew is pleasing her." The next day she got up, and
sent for Mr. Cranstoun into her room; saying, "This I owe to you, my
dear Cranstoun; your coming has given me new health and fresh spirits:
I was fearful lest I should die, and you not here to comfort that poor
girl, how like death she looks!" My father came thither that day to
see his spouse, and took Mr. Cranstoun, who met him in the hall, up in
his arms, saying, "I am glad to see you here, how does my wife?" Upon
Mr. Cranstoun's telling him, "she was much better, and up," he said,
smiling, "I suppose they will both of them (meaning his wife and
daughter) be much better, now you are come." My father seemed in great
good humour all that day. The next time he came (for he returned home
at night) he appeared much out of humour at the great expence incurred
by my mother on the foregoing occasion, and desired her to think of
removing to her own house; since in that case, neither the physician's
fees nor the apothecary's journeys could be so expensive. But she was
too weak to be removed immediately. However, in a short time, she
returned home, in company with myself and Mr. Cranstoun, who, with my
father and mother's approbation, resided with us above six months.
During which interval, my father was sometimes extremely kind, and
sometimes very rude to Mr. Cranstoun, as well as very harsh, to his
daughter. I observed, that this rudeness and harshness generally
appeared after he had been in company with some persons, and
particularly one hereafter mentioned, who were known not to approve of
my marriage with Mr. Cranstoun. My father also frequently made my
mother very uneasy, on account of her approbation of that marriage;
tho' he always declared, that he thought Mr. Cranstoun a most agreeable
man. Whilst he was last at my father's house, the regiment of marines
to which he belonged was broke at Southampton; which obliged him to go
thither: But he did not stay there above two or three days; and upon
his return to Henley, was received by my father with great tenderness,
who told him, that "as he was now broke, he supposed his cash, would
run low; and that therefore he was welcome to stay with him." This
happening in my presence, I went up to my father kissed him, and said,
"Sir, I shall never forget this goodness." Mr. Cranstoun having lost
his post in the regiment of marines, did not remain long in Henley;
but set out soon for London, where he made a pretty, considerable
stay. We kept up, however, our correspondence, as usual in times of
absence, he writing to me almost every post.

A few months after Mr. Cranstoun's return from Southampton, my mother
went up to London, in order to ask advice for a complaint in her
breast, and took me along with her. Upon our arrival there, we went to
her brother's, Mr. Henry Steven's, in Doctors' Commons, where we
resided all the time we remained in town. I had before apprized Mr
Cranstoun of our intended journey; and he waited upon me the next
morning after our arrival at my uncle's. Hither he came every day to
visit me, whilst we stayed in London. Once he brought his brother,
the Lord Cranstoun, with him, who was then just married. One of Mr.
Cranstoun's visits happening a little before dinner, my mother asked
her brother, Mr. Henry Stevens, to invite him to dinner; but this
favour was refused her: On which, coming into the dining-room, whore
she found me and Mr. Cranstoun, she took him by the hand, and burst
into tears, saying, "My dear Mr. Cranstoun, I am sorry you should be
so affronted by any of my family, but I dare not ask you to stay to
dinner. However, continued she, come to me as often as you can in my
own apartment; in a morning I am always alone." To this Mr. Cranstoun
made answer, "My dear mamma, don't be uneasy--I don't come for the
sake of them, but of you and your daughter. And let him put on never
so terrible a face, he shall not keep me from you." At this time Mrs.
Focock was in town, and had a house in St. James's Square, to which I
used to go most days. Hither Mr. Cranstoun perpetually came, when he
understood that I was here; and that with my father's, who arrived in
town after we had reached it, and mother's consent. Mrs. Pocock often
asked my father, whilst in London, to make one of the party. But he
answered her, "You keep such quality hours, as neither agree with my
health, nor suit my business; however, you will have two parts of me,
my wife and my daughter." "Yes," replied Mrs. Pocock, "and not only
these two, but likewise another bit of you, which will be coming
soon." At this he smiled, and said, "What, Cranstoun! a little bit,
indeed, I think! They are very well matched--I was surprised not to
find him here--I thought they could not have been so long asunder." My
father went away and left his family there. The next day my mother and
I were invited to dine at Mrs. Pocock's, in order to meet the present
Lord Crauford,[24] then Lord Garnock, and Mr. Cranstoun. The latter
attended Mrs. Pocock in a coach she had hired to fetch me and my
mother into her house. My father met us in the Strand, and stopped the
coach, crying out, "For God's sake, Mrs. Pocock, what do you with this
rubbish every day?" "Rubbish, do you call them," replied she, "your
wife, your daughter, and one who may be your son?" "Aye, aye," said
he, "they are very well matched; 'tis pity they should ever be
asunder." On which, Mr. Cranstoun took hold of my father's hand, and
cried out, "God grant they never may; don't you say Amen, papa." At
this my father smiled, and said, "Make her these fine speeches seven
years hence." He then took his leave of them, saying, "He had so much
business upon his hands, that he could not stand idling there";
bidding the coachman to drive on, and crying out, "God bless you, I
wish you merry." Mrs. Pocock then asked him, "If he could not contrive
to come to them?" To which he made answer, alluding to the distance of
her house, "God bless you, do you think I can come down now to
Henley?" Then our coachman drove on to St. James's Square; and soon
after my father left the town, in order to return home.

Whilst I was now in London, Mr. Cranstoun proposed a private marriage
to me, saying, "It might help us with regard to the affair in
Scotland; since a real marriage, according to the usage of the Church
of England, if matters went hard, might possibly invalidate a contract
that arose only from cohabitation." In order to understand which, it
must be observed, that Mr. Cranstoun had before cohabitated with one
Miss Murray, by whom he had had a child then living; and was
consequently considered, by the Laws of Scotland, as her husband.
This, he said, was the only thing that intituled her to him, as he
never was married by any priest. To Mr. Cranstoun's proposal I
answered, "I won't, Cranstoun, do you so much injury, as well as
myself; for my father never will forgive it, nor give me a farthing."
To which he replied, "There will be no occasion to discover it, but
upon such an interesting event; and then surely, if you love me, you
will suffer anything rather than part with me. What would I not suffer
for you!" To this I made answer, "I would do nothing in the affair
without he could procure the advice of the best council, and be
certainly informed by this that such a marriage would be valid.
Consider with Yourself," said I, "Cranstoun, what a condition I should
be in, if I should lose my character, my friends, and yourself?--And
you I must lose, if your former supposed marriage should be declared
valid, and in honour we must never see each other more." He then said,
"He would go and lay the case immediately before the best council,
particularly Mr. Murray, the Solicitor-General." But I heard no more
of this affair whilst we staid in town, excepting that it was laid
before the said council; nor did I receive any more solicitations from
him on this head.

About this time my mother being distressed for money, was very uneasy,
as well as in a bad state of health; which gave me great concern.
Being one day, therefore, alone, and in tears, Mr. Cranstoun came
unexpectedly into the room, and insisted upon knowing the reason of my
grief; which at last, after many tender persuasions on his part, I
discovered to him. I told him my mother owed forty pounds, and as she
durst not inform my father of it, did not know which way to get it. To
this he replied, "I only wish I had as many hundreds: I will get it
for you, my dear, to-morrow. Poor woman, how can her husband use her
so!" On which, my mother coming in, no more was at that time said. Mr.
Cranstoun stayed but a little while; and when he went away, he told
me, "He would see about it." After he was gone, I took my mother in my
arms, and said, "My dear mamma, you may be easy about this money, for
Mr. Cranstoun will get it for you to-morrow." At this my mother burst
into tears, and cried, "Why will Mr. Blandy expose himself and me so?
How can the poor soul get it? But he shall have my watch if he ever
wants it, and I cannot pay him in money." To this I made answer, "As
to paying him in money, mamma, that you never can; having never been
mistress of such a sum, nor likely ever to be so; but make yourself
easy, if we meet, you will never be asked for it."

The next day she and I went to see her sister, Mrs. Frances Stevens,
who then lived with her uncle, Mr. Cary, in Watling Street; where Mr.
Cranstoun and his cousin, Mr. Edmonstoun, took their leave of us, we
being to set out for Henley the day following. Mr. Cranstoun brought
the money with him, which he delivered into my mother's own hand; on
which, not being able to speak, she squeezed his hand and burst into
tears. He then kissed her, and said, "Remember, 'tis a son, and
therefore don't make yourself uneasy; you can't lie under any
obligation to me." Then he took me by the hand, and led me into
another room. Here I was going to return him thanks for his goodness
to my mother: but this he prevented, by kissing me, and saying, "That
was all he desired in return." Then he gave me five guineas, and
desired me to keep them by me; since, in case the council should think
a private marriage proper, they should enable me to come up in a
post-chaise to London, and meet him there, with all possible
expedition. After a little farther discourse, we parted in a very
moving manner. I paid ten pounds for my mother, out of the forty
pounds she had been supplied with by Mr. Cranstoun, that very night.
The next morning we set out for Henley, where we arrived in due time.
The day following, being Sunday, I wrote to Mr. Cranstoun, as he had
requested me to do; giving him an account of our safe arrival, and
thanking him in the strongest terms, for his late extraordinary
favour. The next day, being Monday, the other thirty pounds, being the
remaining part of the money my mother had borrowed of Mr. Cranstoun,
she paid to the footman, for fowls, butter, eggs, wine, and other
provisions, brought into the house, chiefly on account of
entertainments, by him.

From this time to Sept. 28th, 1749, my mother continued in a good
state of health. But on that day, which was about half a year after
her last departure from London, at one o'clock in the morning, she was
taken very ill. This giving me, who always lay with her, great
uneasiness, I immediately got up, and called her maid., who instantly
appeared; and then she got out of bed, and retired. When she came into
bed again, she said, "My dear Molly, don't fright yourself: You know
there is now no danger." In order to understand which words, it will
be proper to observe, that, when my mother was in labour of me, she
received a hurt; which made me apprehensive of ill consequences, which
either the cholick, which was her present disorder, or any
obstructions in the parts contiguous to those which are the seat of
that distemper, happened. She lay pretty easy till six, when I
dispatched a messenger for Mr. Norton, the apothecary to the family,
who lived in Henley. When he came, she complained of a pain in her
bowels; upon which he took some blood from her, and ordered her some
gentle physic. She seemed better after this, but nothing passed
through her. It being Friday, and many country gentlemen meeting to
bowl at the Bell Inn, the Rev. Mr. Stevens of Fawley, my mother's
brother, came thither that day, paid a visit to his sister, and found
her greatly indisposed. When he left the room, in which she lay, for
she kept her bed, I followed him out, and asked him, if he thought
there was any danger; telling him how she then was, the manner in
which she was first seized, and what had been prescribed her. As she
before had had several such fits of cholick, Mr. Stevens did not
apprehend any immediate danger. I said, "If my mamma was not better
soon, I would send for a physician." To which he replied, "You are
much in the right of it; but stay a little, and see what effects the
physic will have." He called again in the evening, and found her
better, tho' nothing had yet passed through her. About twelve o'clock
at night my mother obliged me, who was then myself indisposed, to get
into another bed; and promised to send to me, if she found herself
worse. Soon after this, she grew much worse; but would not send to her
daughter, saying, "She would know her fate too soon." She farther said
in Mr. Norton, who was then with her, "My daughter loves me so well,
that I wish my decease may not be the death of her." Between five and
six o'clock in the morning, on Saturday Sept. 30th, 1749, my mother's
maid came up to me, and told me, that, "If I would see my mother
alive, I must come immediately into her chamber." I leaped out of bed,
put on my shoes, and one petticoat only, and ran thither in the
greatest confusion imaginable. When my mother saw me, she put out her
hand, and said, "Now, Molly, shew yourself a Christian, and submit to
what God is pleased to order. I must die, my dear: God will enable you
to bear it, if you pray to Him." On which I turned about in a state of
distraction, ran to my father's room, and said to him, "For God's
sake, sir, come to my mother's room: she is this instant dying." Then
I ran, with great inquietude, into the kitchen, where I found my
footman, and sent him immediately to Fawley for the Rev. Mr. Stevens,
my uncle, and his brother, Mr. Henry Stevens, of Doctors Commons, who
was then at his house in Henley. I also, at the same time, dispatched
a messenger to Dr. Addington, who lived at Reading. After which I went
upstairs, and found my father sitting by my mother's bedside. She took
him and me both by the hand, joining our hands together, and saying to
him, "Be both a father and a mother to her: I have long tried and
known her temper, Mr. Blandy. She is all your heart can wish for, and
has been the best of daughters to me. Use her with a generous
confidence, and she will never abuse it. She has set her heart upon
Cranstoun; when I am gone, let no one set you against this match." To
these last words Mr. Blandy immediately made answer, "It shall not be
my fault, if this does not take place; but they must stay, you know,
till the unhappy affair in Scotland is decided." "God bless you,"
replied she, "and thank you for that promise; God bless you, Mr.
Blandy, for all your kindnesses to me and my girl. God grant that you
may both live long, that you may be a blessing to each other. Whatever
little unkindnesses may have passed I freely forgive you. Now, if you
please to go down, Mr. Blandy, for my spirits fail me." My father then
kissed her, and retired in tears, saying, as he went, "The doctor
still may think of something that may be of service to you." At this
she smiled and said, "Not without you can give me a new inside." When
my father was gone, my mother took hold of my hand, drew me to her,
and kissed me. Taking notice that I had no cloaths on, she ordered my
maid to bring 'em down, and dress me. This being done, she ordered her
servants out of the room; and told me, "she had many things, if her
strength would permit, to say to me. Be sure then," said she, "Molly,
when I am gone, to remember the lessons I have taught you. Be dutiful
to your father; and if you think I have been sometimes a little hardly
used, do not remember it in wrath; but defend my character if
aspersed. I owe some more money, Molly, God knows how you will get it
paid. I wish your uncles would stand your friends. If your father
should know it, I am only fearful for you. Indeed, my dear, I never
spent it in extravagancies. I was in hopes you would have been
married; I then would have told your father all, as I could have come
to you till his passion had been over." On my being drowned In tears,
she catched me in her arms, and cried, "I leave the world with the
greatest pleasure, only thee makes me sorry to go. Oh that I could but
take you along with me!--But then what would poor Cranstoun do? Be
sure, child, you behave with honour in that affair; don't, either
thro' interest or terror, violate the promises you have made." To this
I reply'd, "You may be sure, madam, I never will. I will do all I can
to act as you would wish your daughter to do. Oh mamma, you have been
the best of mothers to me! How can I survive you, and go thro' all the
miseries I must meet with after your death, without a friend to advise
with on any emergency or occasion." "My dear," returned she, "your
uncle John, in things you cannot speak to your papa about, will help
and advise you in the tenderest manner; and you may repose an absolute
confidence in him."

Soon after Mr. Stevens of Fawley came, and I conducted him into my
mother's chamber. At his approach to her, he was so overwhelmed with
grief, that he could not speak a word. She took him by the hand, and
said, "I am glad to see you, my dear brother. You must help to comfort
your poor niece, who will stand in need of your assistance. Never
forsake her, my dear brother. All that gives me pain in death is the
leaving of her behind me." Then turning to me, "Your uncle Jack, my
dear, will take care of you, and look on you as his own," At which Mr.
Stevens took hold of his sister's and niece's hands, and, with tears,
told 'em both he would. Then turning about, he asked me if the
physician was not yet come? My mother said, "They would send for him,
but he could be of no service to her"; giving her brother at the same
time such reasons for her despondency as convinced him, that there
were little or no hopes of her recovery. He found himself so moved at
this, that he was obliged to go down stairs, and retire to my father
and Mr. Henry Stevens, who were at that time both in the parlour. The
physician, Dr. Addington, of Reading, soon arrived, and went directly
to my mother's room. When he came in, she showed him the inflammation
and swelling on her bowels. He prescribed her some physic, to be taken
once in every two hours, and ordered her to be blooded immediately.
Her bowels also, according to his direction, were to be fomented and
poulticed once in every four hours. This operation I took upon myself,
and punctually performed it. I also gave her every medicine she took
till she was at the point of death, and I myself was forced to be
carried out of the room in a fit. Dr. Addington, before he prescribed
anything, went with me out of the room, and told me he was afraid he
could do nothing for her; repeating the same afterwards both to my
father and my two uncles. Notwithstanding which, he thought fit to
order the above mentioned poultices and fomentations; which, according
to his direction, were applied, tho' without producing any good
effect. In fine, my dear mother died Sept. 30, 1749, about nine
o'clock at night.

For six months preceding her sickness, or thereabouts, being the
interval between her last departure from London and the time her
indisposition seized her, my mother never saw Mr. Cranstoun; tho' I
constantly, and even almost every post, corresponded with him. It must
here be observed, that Lady Cranstoun had wrote to my mother some time
before, to return her thanks for the civilities her son had received
from her. It must also be remembered, that a little before my mother
went last to town, I and my father both received letters from Miss
Murray, signed "N. Cranstoun," to inform us, that she was his lawful
wife. The decree of the Court of Scotland in her favour was sent with
these letters. When I received them, I carried them to my father.
After he had read them, I asked him "what I was to do." His answer
was, "I do not trouble my head about it." On which I went to my
mother, and consulted with her about what was to be done; and, by her
advice, wrote to Mr. Cranstoun, begging him, as he was a man of
honour, to let me know the truth. At the same time, I sent him the
letters that came from Scotland, and occasioned this epistle. In
answer to this, he said, "It was certainly her hand; but that she
never was his wife, nor has any right to the name": And, in order to
gain credit to his assertion, he made the strongest protestations.
Before my mother wrote last to him, and that a considerable time, he
had sent me a solemn Contract of Marriage, wherein he declared he
never had been married before, and stiled me therein "Mrs. Cranstoun."
But to put an end to this digression, and proceed to what happened
after my mother's death.

On the day following her decease, which was Sunday, Mr. Stevens of
Fawley was desired to write Mr. Cranstoun word of this sorrowful
event; which he did, I being incapable of either knowing or doing any
thing. Mrs. Stevens, the Rev. Mr. Stevens's wife, staid with me from
Saturday night, when my mother died, till the Sunday night following.
Then Mrs. Mounteney, a friend of my late mother's, came to me, and
staid with me some time. My mother, on her deathbed, had begged me not
to oppose the match between my father and this Mrs. Mounteney, if,
after her death, he discovered an inclination to marry her; as she was
a woman of honour, and would use me well for her sake. On the Tuesday
following my mother's death Mr. Cranstoun sent his footman express to
Henley, with letters to me and my father. When my father opened his
letter and read it, the tears ran down his checks, and he cried out,
"How tenderly does he write!" Then he gave Mrs. Mounteney the letter
to read, who, after having read it, said it was as pretty a letter as
could have been wrote on such an occasion; "He has lost a friend
indeed," said she, "but I don't doubt," speaking to my father, "but
you will make up her loss to them both." Then, my father said to me,
"Pray read your letter to us." This I did, and the letter contained an
earnest desire, that if I could not write myself, I would let his
footman see me, that he might know how I really was; since he was
almost distracted for fear of my being ill after so great a shock. He
also begged me to remember, "That there was one left still, who loved
me as tenderly as my mother could do, and whose whole happiness in
this world depended upon my life." My father told me, tho' my mother
was to be buried that night, "I must write a line to him, in order to
ease the poor soul as much as I could; and let him know that he was as
welcome to my father's house, whenever he would please to come, as he
was before." On this I wrote to him, and shewed the letter to my
father. The footman set out with it for London the same night, or very
early the next morning. Mr. Cranstoun not coming down so soon as was
expected, my father one day, being alone with me, seemed to express
himself as if he thought it wrong; upon which I wrote a very pressing
letter to him, to come immediately to Henley. To this he in a letter
replied, that he was not able to go out at that time for debt, and was
fearful if he should come, the Bailiffs might follow him; his fortune
being seized in Scotland, for the maintenance of Miss Murray and her
child. The debt that occasioned this perplexity, he said, was near
fifteen guineas. I having borrowed forty pounds of Mrs. Mounteney, to
pay off part of my mother's debts, sent him up fifteen guineas out of
this sum; on which he came down to Henley, and staid some weeks with
my father, who received him with great marks of affection and esteem.

During this interval, he acquainted me with the great skill of the
famous Mrs. Morgan, who had described me and my father, tho' she had
never seen us, in the most perfect and surprising manner possible. He
further acquainted me, that she had given him some powders to take,
which she called Love-powders. Some time after this conversation, my
father seemed much out of humour, and said several unkind things, both
to Mr. Cranstoun and me. This induced Mr. Cranstoun, when alone with
me not long after, to say, "I wish I could give your father some of
the love-powders." "For what?" said I. "Because," replied he, "they
would make him love me." "Are you weak enough," said I, "to think that
there is such a power in any powders?" "Yes, I really do," replied he,
"for I took them myself, and forgave a friend soon after; tho' I never
intended to have spoke to him again." This subject dropped for some
days, and no more said of it: but on my father's being very much out
of humour one night, Mr. Cranstoun said, "If I had any of these
powders, I would put them into something that Mr. Blandy should
drink." To which I answered, "I am glad you have not, for I have no
faith in such things." "But I have," replied he. Just before he
returned to London, he received a dunning letter. This was on a
Sunday, when my father was at church. I perceiving him to look dull,
begged to know the reason. He said he must leave me the next day. On
which I asked him what could occasion such a sudden departure? He then
told me he had received a letter, concerning a debt he owed, that he
had no money to pay; and that if he staid in Henley, the bailiffs
might come down in quest of him thither; and you know your father's
temper, said he, if that should happen. This induced me to desire a
sight of the letter; which having perused, I immediately gave him the
money he wanted on this occasion, winch amounted to fifteen pounds,
and was part of the sum I had before borrowed of Mrs. Mounteney. This,
with the other fifteen pounds sent him from Henley, made up thirty of
the forty pounds he had formerly lent my mother. As soon as he had
received this money, he wrote a letter to his creditor in London,
informing him, that he would pay him on a day therein mentioned. A few
days after this, he set out for London, and kept up his correspondence
with me for several months, not returning to Henley till August 1750.
The morning he left Henley, my father parted with him with the
greatest tenderness; yet the moment he was gone, he used me very
cruelly on his account. This had such an effect upon me, that it threw
me into hysteric fits. His conduct for some time was very uncertain;
sometimes extremely tender, and at other times the reverse; he on
certain occasions saying very bitter and cruel things to me.

During this interval, my father received a present of some dried
salmon from Lady Cranstoun in Scotland, and a very civil letter, which
he did not answer, tho' he seemed pleased with the contents of it. The
first of August 1750, as I apprehend, Mr. Cranstoun wrote to my
father, that he would wait upon him, and I carried the letter up to
him, he then being in his bed-chamber. After he had opened and read
it, he made no manner of answer. I then asked him what answer I should
write. To which he replied, "He must come, I suppose." On this I wrote
to him, giving him to understand, that I should be glad to see him.
This produced an answer from him, wherein he told me, he would be with
me on the Monday following; but he came on Sunday, whilst we were at
dinner. My father received him with great tenderness seemingly, and
said, "He was sorry he had not seen him half an hour sooner, for he
was afraid the dinner was quite cold." My father after dinner went to
church, and left Mr. Cranstoun and me together: after church was over,
my father returned, drank tea with us, and seemed to be in perfect
good humour; and so he remained for several weeks; but afterwards
changed so much in his temper, that I seldom arose from table without
tears. This gave Mr. Cranstoun great pain; so that he one time said to
me, "Why will you not permit me to give your father some of the
powders which I formerly mentioned? If I was to give him them,"
continued he, "they are quite innocent, and will do him no harm, if
they did not produce the desired effect." He had no sooner spoke those
words than my father came in; upon which a profound silence ensued.
Next morning I went into my father's study, and found him very much
out of humour: he had spent the evening at the coffee-house, as he
frequently did, and generally came home in a bad humour from thence. I
went from him into the parlour where I found Mr. Cranstoun: he
insisted upon knowing what was the matter, I appearing to him to have
been lately in tears: I told him the whole affair. He replied, "I hate
he should go to that house, he always comes home from thence in a very
ill humour." I had made the tea, and got up to fetch some sugar, which
was in a glass scrutore at the farther end of the room; and when I
rose up, Mr. Cranstoun said to me, "I will now put in some of the
powder--upon my soul it will not hurt him." My father was in his study
at the time these words were spoken. I made answer, "Don't do it,
Cranstoun; it will make me uneasy, and can do you no good." To this he
replied, "It can do no hurt, and therefore I will mix it." After I had
got the sugar, I returned to the tea-table, and was going to throw
away the tea, in which Mr. Cranstoun had put some of the powder; but
my father came in that moment, and prevented me from executing my
design. My father seemed very much out of humour all breakfast-time;
and, soon after breakfast was over, retired to his study. Mr.
Cranstoun and I then took a walk. At dinner my father appeared in the
best of humours, and continued so all the time Mr. Cranstoun stayed
with him. Mr. Cranstoun and I used to walk out every day. On one of
those days, Mr. Cranstoun told me he had a secret to impart to me, and
begg'd me not to be angry with him for it; adding, he knew I had too
much good sense to be so. The secret in short was this: he had had a
daughter by one Miss Capel, a year before he knew me; and, as he
pretended, all his friends had insisted upon his telling me of it. To
this I replied, "Your follies, Cranstoun, have been very great; but I
hope you see them." "That I do," said he, "with penitence and shame."
"Then, sir," replied I, "I freely forgive you; but never shall, if you
repeat these follies now after our acquaintance." "If I do," said he,
"I must be a villain; you alone can make me happy in this world; and,
by following your example, I hope I shall be happy in the next." Mr.
Cranstoun gave my father the powder in August 1750, and stayed with
him in Henley, as I believe, till some day in the beginning of
November, the same year. A day or two after the preceding dialogue,
one morning I got, up, and asked my maid, "How Mr. Cranstoun did?" Who
answered, "He is gone out a walking, Madam." Upon this, I, as soon as
I was drest, went up into Mr. Cranstoun's room, to look out his linnen
for my maid to mend. I could not find it on the table, where it used
to lie; and seeing a key in his trunk, I opened it. The first thing I
found there was a letter from a hand I knew not, tho' he used always
to give me his letters to open, and that unasked by me. This I opened
to read, and found it to come from a woman he kept. Having read it, I
shut the trunk, locked it fast, and put the key in my pocket. The
letter I left in the same place where I found it. I then went down to
my father in his study, and asked him to come to breakfast. He said,
"No, not till Cranstoun returns home;" on which I retired into the
parlour. A few minutes after, Mr. Cranstoun and Mr. Littleton, my
father's clerk, both came in together. We all of us then went to
breakfast. My father said to me, soon after we sat down, "You look
very pale, Molly; what is the matter with you?" "I am not very well,
sir," replied I. After we had breakfasted, my father and his clerk
went out of the room. I then gave Mr. Cranstoun the keys of his trunk,
and bade him be more careful for the future, and not leave his letters
so much exposed. At these words he almost fainted away. He got up, and
retired to his room immediately. I was going to my own room, when he
called to me, and begged me, for God's sake, to come to him: which I
instantly did. He then fell down on his knees before me, and begged
me, for God's sake, to forgive him; if I was resolved to see him no
more. On this I told him I forgave him, but intreated him to make some
excuse to leave Henley the next day: "For I will not," said I, "expose
you, if I can help it; and our affair may scorn to go off by degrees."
The last words, seemingly so confounded him, that he made me no
answer, but threw himself on the bed, crying out, "I am ruined, I am
ruined. Oh Molly, you never loved me!" I then was upon the point of
going out of the room, without giving him any answer. Upon which he
got hold of my gown, and swore, "He would not live till night, if I
did not forgive him." He bad me, "Remember my mother's last dying
commands, and reflect upon the pain it would give his mother." He
protested "that he could never forgive himself, if I did; and that he
never would repeat the same provocations." He kept me then two hours,
before he could prevail upon me to declare, that I would not break off
my acquaintance with him. Mr. Cranstoun pretended to be sick two or
three days upon this unlucky event; but I cannot help thinking this
now to have been only a delusion. Some time after this Mr. Cranstoun
had a letter from his brother, the Lord Cranstoun, to desire him to
come immediately to Scotland, in order to settle some of his own
affairs there, and to see his mother, the Lady Cranstoun, who was then
extremely ill. Upon the arrival of this letter Mr. Cranstoun said to
me, "Good God, what shall I do! I have no money to carry me thither
and all my fortune is seized on, but my half-pay!" This made me very
uneasy. He then said, "He would part with his watch, in order to
enable him to raise a sum sufficient to defray the expence of his
journey to Scotland." I told him, "I had no money to give him, but
would freely make him a present of my own watch; as I could not bear
to see him without one." Then I took a picture of himself, which he
had some time before given me, off my watch, and freely made him a
present of it. Two days after this he departed for Scotland, and I
never afterwards saw him. He set out about six o'clock in the morning.
My father got up early that morning to take leave of him before his
departure, at which he seemed vastly uneasy. He took him in his arms,
and said, "God bless you, my dear Cranstoun, when you come next, I
hope your unhappy affair will be decided to our mutual satisfaction."
To this Mr. Cranstoun replied, "Yes, sir, I hope in my favour; or if
this should fail that you should hear of my death. Be tender to,"
continued he, "and comfort this poor thing," turning towards me, "whom
I love better than myself." Then my father look Mr. Cranstoun and
myself in his arms, and we all three shed tears. This was a very
moving scene. My father afterwards went out of the room, and fetched a
silver dram-bottle, holding near half a pint, filled it with rum, and
made a present of both to Mr. Cranstoun; bidding him keep the
dram-bottle for his sake, and drink the liquor on the road; assuring
him, that if he found himself sick or cold, the latter would prove a
cordial to him. Mr. Cranstoun then got into the post-chaise, and took
his leave of Henley.

It will be proper to take notice in this place, by way of digression,
of a very remarkable event, or rather series of events, that happened
before Mr. Cranstoun's last departure for Scotland. One day whilst my
mother and I were last in London, we were talking of the immortality
of the soul; and the subject we were then upon led us insensibly to a
discourse of apparitions; and that again to a promise we made each
other, that the first of us who died should appear to the survivor,
after death, if permitted so to do. My mother dying first, in the
manner already related, I sometimes retired into the room where she
died, in hopes of seeing her. Here I lay near half a year, earnestly
desiring to see my mother, without being able either to see or hear
any thing. After this, my father lay in that room; but for some time
neither saw nor heard any thing. Afterwards, one night, he taxed me
with being at his chamber door, rapping at it, rushing with my
silk-gown, and refusing to answer him when he called to me. My chamber
was at a small distance from his, and into it he came the next
morning: demanding for what reason I had so frighted him. To this I
replied, "I had never been at his door, nor out of my bed the whole
night." He then inquired of all the maids, who only lay in the house,
whether any of them disturbed him; to which they all answered in the
negative. Soon after this, Mr. Cranstoun came to Henley, as has been
already observed, and was put into a room, called the hall-chamber,
over the great parlour; which was reckoned the best in the house. Here
he was shut out from the rest of the family. Till October 1750, above
a year after my mother's death, no noise at all was heard, excepting
that at Mr. Blandy's chamber-door above mentioned. But one morning in
the beginning of that month, Mr. Cranstoun being in the parlour, I
asked him, "What made him look so pale, and to seem so uneasy?" "I
have met," said he, "with the oddest accident this night that ever
befel me: the moment I got into bed, I heard the finest music that can
possibly be imagined. I sat up in my bed upon this, to hear from
whence it came; and it seemed to me to come from the middle of the
stairs. It continued, as I believe, at least above two hours." At this
I laughed, and said, "O Cranstoun, how can you be so whimsical?" "Tis
no whim," replied he, "for I really heard it; nor had I been asleep;
for it began soon after I got into bed." I then said, "Don't make
yourself uneasy, if it was so; since nothing ill, sure, can be
presaged by music." When my father came into the parlour, this topic
of conversation was instantly dropped. The next night, I, who lay
quite at the other end of the house, being awake, heard music, that
seemed to me to be in the yard, exceeding plainly. Upon this, I got up
and looked out of the window that faced the yard, but saw nothing. The
music, however, continued till near morning, when I fell asleep, and
heard no more of it. My mother's maid coming into my chamber, as
usual, to call me, I told her what I heard. This drew from her the
following saucy answer: "You see and hear, Madam, with Mr. Cranstoun's
eyes and ears." To which I made no other reply than, "Go, and send me
my own maid". As soon as I was dressed, I went into Mr. Cranstoun's
room, whom I found sitting therein by the fire. I asked him, at first
coming into the room, "How he had spent the night, and whether he had
heard the music?" To which he replied, "Yes, all night long; I could
not sleep a wink for it; nay, I got out of my bed, and followed it
into the great parlour, where it left me. I then returned into my own
room, and heard such odd noises in the parlour under me, as greatly
discomposed me." "I wish," added he, "you would send me up a bason of
tea." To which I replied, "Pray come down, as you are now up; for you
know my papa is better tempered when you are by, than when I am with
him alone." We then both went down to breakfast, but said nothing to
my father of what had happened.

A little while after this, Susannah Gunnel, my mother's maid, who had
before given me the impertinent answer, came into my bedchamber before
I was up, and told me she had heard the music. She also begged my
pardon for not believing me, when I had formerly averted the same
thing. Mr. Cranstoun, myself, and this maid then talked all together
about this surprising event. Mr. Cranstoun declared he had heard
noises, as well as music, which the other two at that time never
heard. The music generally began about twelve o'clock at night. My
father obliging the family to be in bed about eleven, I told the
aforesaid maid, who was an old servant in the family, "That she and I
would go together up into Mr. Cranstoun's room at twelve o'clock, and
try if we could find out what these noises were." According to
agreement, therefore, we went up into that room at the hour proposed;
and heard very clearly and most distinctly the music. The maid fell
asleep about three o'clock in the morning; but was soon waked with an
uncommon noise, heard both by Mr. Cranstoun and myself. This noise
resembled thumping or knocking at a door, which greatly terrified Mr.
Cranstoun, and the maid. In less than a minute after this, we all
three heard plainly the footsteps of my mother, as I then apprehended,
by which she seemed to be going down stairs towards the kitchen door,
which soon after seemed to be opened. We all three sat silent, and
heard the same invisible being come up stairs again. Upon this, I took
the candle, they still sitting by the fire, and was going to open the
chamber door, saying, "Surely it must be one of the maids." Mr.
Cranstoun observing this, cried out, "Perhaps it may be your father,
don't let him see you here." Then he took the candle, opened the door,
and looked down the stairs himself; but could perceive nothing at all.
In less than three minutes after this I said, "I will now go into my
room to bed, being fatigued and frightened almost to death." "I
believe," continued I, "it is near four." These words were no sooner
uttered than we all heard the former footsteps, as tho' some person
had been coming directly to the room where we were, but stopped short
at the door. Upon this I immediately catched up the candle, went to
the door and open'd it; but saw nothing, tho' I heard something
plainly go down the stairs. Then I went to the maid, who was half
asleep, and did not perfectly hear the last footsteps. But Mr.
Cranstoun heard them, and seemed greatly surprised. Then I bad the
maid go with me instantly to bed, not being able to keep up my spirits
any longer. Soon after this, Mr. Cranstoun and I went up to Fawley, to
pay a visit to the Rev. Mr. Stevens; and whilst we were there, I gave
my uncle an account of this surprising affair. But he laughed at me,
and called me little fool, for my pains. Then Mr. Cranstoun said,
"Sir, I myself heard it." To which Mr. Stevens made no other reply
than, "Sir, I don't doubt you think you heard it; but don't you
believe there is a great deal in fancy? May it not be some trick of
the servants?" To which I made answer, "No, Sir, that is impossible;
since if they could make the noise, they could not the music." Mr.
Stevens not giving much credit to what we affirmed, we immediately
changed the subject of discourse. By this time all the servants that
lay in the house had heard both the music and noise; and one morning
at breakfast, Mr. Cranstoun ventured to tell my father of the music.
At such a strange report, my father stared at him, and cried, "Are yon
light-headed?" In answer to which Mr. Cranstoun reply'd, "Your
daughter, sir, has heard the same, and so have all your servants." To
this my father, smiling, returned, "It was Scotch music, I suppose;"
and said some other things that shewed he was not in good humour. Upon
which it was thought fit immediately to drop the discourse.

Some few days after this, on a Sunday in the afternoon, Mr. Cranstoun
and I being alone in the parlour, Betty Binfield, the cook-maid, came
running into the room, and said, "There is such a noise in the room
over my master's study, for God's sake come into the yard and hear
it." But when we came, we could hear nothing. However, returning into
the parlour through the hall, we heard a noise over our heads, like
that of some heavy person walking. The room over the hall was once my
mother's dressing-room, tho' it then had a bed in it: but now, it was
my dressing-room, it had none at all. Hearing the noise, we both went
up into the room; but then, notwithstanding the late noise, could see
nothing at all. After which, we went down and drank tea with my
father.

About a fortnight before Mr. Cranstoun's last departure for Scotland,
Susannah Gunnel one morning going into his room with some vinegar and
water to wash his eyes, he asked her, "If ever her master walked in
his sleep?" She replied, "Not that she ever knew of." "It is very
odd," said he, "he was in my room to-night, dressed with his white
stockings, his coat on, and a cap on his head. I had never," continued
he, "been asleep, and the clock had just struck two. I heard him walk
up my stairs, open the door, and come into the room: upon which I
moved my curtain, and seeing him, I cried, 'Aha! old friend, what did
you come to fright me? I have not been asleep since I came to bed, and
heard you come up.' But he went on, he would not answer me one word.
However, he walked quite across my room, then turned back, and as he
approached my bed-side, kissed his hand, bowed, and went out of the
room. Then I heard him go down stairs. It was, certainly," continued
he, "your master, sleeping or waking; but which, I cannot tell." Susan
greatly surprised at this story, then came running down to me, who was
getting up, and told me what Mr. Cranstoun had said. To this I made no
answer, but went up immediately into his room, and asked him what he
meant by this story Susan had told me. In answer to which, he repeated
the same story, and declared it to be true in every particular. He
then said, "He supposed Mr. Blandy came to see whether he was in bed
or not." When he went down to breakfast, he asked my father, "What
made him fright him so last night?" My father being surprised at this,
and staring on him, asked him, "What he meant?" Mr. Cranstoun then
told the same story over again. To which my father replied, "It must
have been a dream, for I went to bed at eleven o'clock, and did not
rise out of it till seven this morning. Besides, I could not have
appeared in my coat, as you pretend, since the maid had it to put a
button upon it." My father did not seem pleased with the discourse;
which induced me to put an end to it as soon as possible. The
surprising facts here mentioned, of the reality of which I cannot
entertain the least doubt, made a deep and lasting impression upon my
mind. Since, therefore, in my opinion, they were too slightly touched
upon at my trial, notwithstanding the incredulity of the present age
as to facts of this nature, I could by no means think it improper to
give so particular and distinct a relation of them here.

Mr. Cranstoun, soon after this, taking his leave of Henley, set out
for Scotland, as has been already observed. A day or two after his
departure, Mr. Cranstoun wrote me a letter on the road, wherein he
begged me to make acceptable to my father his most grateful
acknowledgements for his late goodness to him. "This," he said, "had
made such an impression upon him, that he never should forget it as
long as he lived; and that he should always entertain the same tender
sentiments for him as for his father, the late Lord Cranstoun,[25]
himself, had he been then alive." In the same letter, he also desired
me to permit my letters to be directed by some body who wrote a more
masculine hand than mine; since otherwise they might be intercepted by
some one or other of Miss Murray's family, as they were jealous of the
affair carried on between us two. He likewise therein insisted upon my
subscribing myself "M.C." instead of "M.B." tho' he did not discover
to me the real view he had therein. Soon after he arrived at his
mother's, he wrote me another letter, wherein he informed me, that he
told his mother[26] we were married, and had been so for some time: and
that she would write to me, as her daughter, by the very next post.
This she did; and her letter came accompanied with one from her son,
wherein he desired me, if I loved him, to answer his mother's by the
return of the post, and sign myself "Mary Cranstoun" at length, as I
knew before God I was, by a solemn contract, entitled to that name.
This, he pretended, would make his mother stir more in the Scotch
affair. On the supposition that I was her daughter, she wrote many
tender letters to me, always directing to me by the name of "Mary
Cranstoun," and sent me some very handsome presents of Scotch linen.
He also obliged his eldest sister, Mrs. Selby,[27] and her husband, to
write to me as their sister. Lady Cranstoun likewise wrote to my
father in a very complaisant style, thanking him for the civilities he
had shewn her son; and hinting, that she hoped it would be in her
power to return them to me, when she should have the pleasure of
seeing me in Scotland, which she begged might be soon. Lord Cranstoun,
his brother, also wrote to my father, and returned him thanks in the
same polite manner. During this whole period, my father's behaviour to
me was very uncertain; but always good after he had received any of
these letters. In a few months, however, after Mr. Cranstoun's
departure, my father's temper was much altered for the worse. He
upbraided me with having rejected much better offers than any that had
come from Scotland; and at last ordered me to write to Mr. Cranstoun
not to return to Henley, till his affair with Miss Murray was quite
decided. I complied with this order, writing to him in the terms
prescribed me. To this I received an answer full of tenderness, grief,
and despair. He said, "He found my father loved him no longer, and was
afraid he would inspire me with the same sentiments. He saw," he said,
"a coolness throughout my whole letter; but conjured me to remember
the sacred promises and engagements that had passed between us." After
this, I received several other letters from him, filled with the same
sort of expostulation; and penned in the same desponding and
disconsolate strain. I likewise received several letters from his
mother, the old Lady Cranstoun, and Mrs. Selby, his sister, wrote in a
most affectionate style.

In April, or the beginning of May, 1751, as I apprehend, I had another
letter from Mr. Cranstoun, wherein he acquainted me, that he had seen
his old friend, Mrs. Morgan; and that if he could procure any more of
her powder, he would send it with the Scotch pebbles he intended to
make me a present of. In answer to this, I told him, "I was surprised
that a man of his sense could believe such efficacy to be lodged in
any powder whatsoever; and that I would not give it my father, lest it
should impair his health." To this, in his next letter, he replied,
"That he was extremely surprised I should believe he would send any
thing that might prove prejudicial to my father, when his own interest
was so apparently concerned in his preservation." I took this as
referring to a conversation we had had a little before he set out for
Scotland; wherein I told him, "I was sure my father was not a man of a
very considerable fortune; but that if he lived, I was persuaded he
would provide very handsomely for us and ours, as he lived so retired,
and his business was every day increasing." So far was I from
imagining, that I should be a gainer by my father's death, as has been
so maliciously and uncharitably suggested! Mr. Cranstoun also seemed
most cordially and sincerely to join with me in the same notion. Soon
after this, in another letter, he informed me, "That some of the
aforesaid powder should be sent with the Scotch pebbles he intended
me; and that he should write upon the paper in which the powder was
contained, 'powder to clean Scotch pebbles,' lest, if he gave it its
true name, the box should be opened, and he be laughed at by the
person opening it, and taken for a superstitious fool, as he had been
by me before." In June 1751, the box with the powder and pebbles
arrived at Henley, and a letter came to me the next day, wherein he
ordered me to mix the powder in tea. This some mornings after I did;
but finding that it would not mix well with tea, I flung the liquor
into which it had been thrown out of the window. I farther declare,
that looking into the cup, I saw nothing adhere to the sides of it;
nor was such an adhesion probable, as the powder swam on the top of
the liquor. My father drank two cups of tea out of that cup, before I
threw the powder into it: nor did he drink any more out of it that
morning, it being Sunday, and he fearing to drink a third cup, lest he
should be too late for church. It has been said by Susan Gunnel, at my
Trial, that she drank out of the aforesaid cup, and was very ill after
it. In answer to which, I must beg leave to observe, that she never
before would drink out of any other cup, than one which she called her
own, different from this, and which I drank out of on that and most
other mornings. It has been farther said, that Dame Emmet, a
charwoman, was likewise hurt by drinking tea at my father's house: be
pleased to remember, Reader, that I mixed it but in one cup, and then
threw it away. Susan said, she drank out of the cup and was ill, what
then could hurt this woman, who to my knowledge was not at our house
that day? Mr. Nicholas, an apothecary, attended this old woman in the
first sickness they talk of, which, by Susan, I understood was a
weakness common to her, viz. fainting fits and purging; and I know,
that she had had fainting fits many times before. When I heard she was
ill, I ordered Susan to send her whey, broth, or any thing that she
thought would be proper for her. She had long served the family, would
joke and divert me, and I loved her extremely. Nor can my enemies
themselves (let them paint me how they please) deny that from my heart
I pitied the poor. I never felt more pleasure, than when I fed the
hungry, cloathed the naked, and supplied the wants of those in
distress. Had God blessed me with a more plentiful fortune, I should
have exerted myself in this more; and I flatter myself, that the poor
and indigent of our town will do me justice in this particular, and
own that I was not wanting in my duty towards them. But to proceed in
my account: I would not fix on any other charwoman; and Susan said,
that Dame Emmet would, she thought, by my goodness, soon get strength
to work again. I told her, was it ever so long I would stay for her. I
mixed the powder, as was said before, on the Sunday, and on the
Tuesday wrote to Mr. Cranstoun, that it would not mix in tea, and that
I would not try it any more, lest my father should find it out. This
has been brought against me by many: but let any one consider, if the
discovery of such a procedure as this, would not have excited anger,
and consequently have been followed by resentment in my father. This
might have occasioned a total separation of me from Mr. Cranstoun, a
thing I at that time dreaded more than even death itself. In answer to
this letter, I had one from him to assure me the powder was innocent,
and to beg I would give it in gruel, or something thicker than tea.
Many more letters to the same effect I received, before I would give
it again; but most fatally, on the 5th August, I gave it to my poor
father, innocent of the effects it afterwards produced, God knows; not
so stupid as to believe it would have that desired, to make him kind
to us; but in obedience to Mr. Cranstoun, who ever seemed
superstitions to the last degree, and had, as I thought, and have
declared before, all the just notions of the necessity of my father's
life for him, me, and ours. On the Monday the 5th, as has been said, I
mixed the powder in his gruel, and at night it was in a half-pint mug,
set ready for him to carry to bed with him. It had no taste. The next
morning, as he had done at dinner the day before, he complained of a
pain in his stomach, and the heart-burn; which he ever did before he
had the gravel. I went for Mr. Norton at eleven o'clock in the
forenoon, who said, that a little physick would be right for my father
to take on Wednesday. At night he ordered some water gruel for his
supper, which his footman went for. When it came, my father said,
"Taste it, Molly, has it not an odd taste?" I tasted it, but found no
taste different from what is to be found in all good water gruel.
After this he went up to bed, and my father found himself sick, and
reached; after which he said he was better, and I went up to bed.
Susan gave him his physick in the morning, and I went into his
bed-chamber about eight o'clock; then I found him charming well. Susan
says that on my father's wanting gruel on the Wednesday, I said, as
they were busy at ironing, they might give him some of the same he had
before. I do not remember this; but if I did, it was impossible I
should know that the gruel he had on Tuesday was the same he had on
Monday; as that he drank on Monday was made on Saturday or Sunday, I
believe on Saturday night; much less imagine that she whoever made it,
and managed it as she pleased, would pretend to keep such stale gruel
for her master. Thursday and Friday he came down stairs. I often asked
Mr. Norton, "If he thought him in danger; if he did, I would send for
Dr. Addington." On Saturday Mr. Norton told me, "he thought my father
in danger." I said, "I would send for the doctor;" but he replied, "I
had better ask my father's leave." I bid him speak to my father about
it, which he did; but my father replied, "Stay till to-morrow, and if
I am not better then, send for him." As soon as I was told this, I
said, "That would not satisfy me; I would send immediately, which I
did; and Mr. Norton, the apothecary, attested this in Court." On the
same night, being Saturday, the doctor came, I believe it was near
twelve o'clock. He saw my father, and wrote for him: he did not then
apprehend his case to be desperate. I have been by this gentleman
blamed, for not telling then what I had given my father. I was in
hopes that he would have lived, and that my folly would never have
been known: in order the more effectually to conceal which, the
remainder of the powder I had, the Wednesday before, thrown away, and
burnt Mr. Cranstoun's letter: so I had nothing to evince the innocence
of my intention, and was moreover frightened out of my wits. Let the
good-natured part of the world put themselves in my place, and then
condemn me if they can for this. On Sunday my father said, "He was
better"; but found himself obliged to keep his bed that day. Mr.
Blandy, of Kingston, a relation of ours, came to visit us, stayed with
me to breakfast, and then went to church with Mr. Littleton, my
father's clerk. I went, after they had gone to my father, and found
him seemingly inclined to sleep; so let him, retired into the parlour,
and wrote to Mr. Cranstoun, as I did almost every post. I had, on the
Friday before, a letter from him; wherein some secrets of his family
were disclosed. As I wrote in a hurry, I only advised him to take care
what he wrote; which, as my unhappy affairs turned out, my enemies
dressed up greatly to my disadvantage at my trial. I gave this letter,
as I did all of them, to Mr. Littleton to direct, who opened it,
carried it to a friend of his for advice on the occasion, and conveyed
it to a French usher; who, by the help of it, published a pamphlet
entitled, _The Life of Miss Mary Blandy_. On Sunday in the afternoon,
Mrs. Mounteney and her sister came to see my father; who told them,
"He hoped he should soon be able to meet them in his parlour; since he
thought himself better then." Susan was to sit up with her master that
night. The Rev. Mr. Stockwood, Rector of the parish, came in the
evening to visit him; the apothecary was there likewise; and he
desired the room might be quite still; so that only Susan, the old
maid, was to be with him. After this I went up to my father's bedside;
upon which he took me in his arms and kissed me: I went out of the
room with Mr. Stockwood and Mr. Norton, the apothecary, almost dead,
and begg'd of the latter to tell me if he thought my father still in
danger. He said "he was better, and hoped he would still mend.
To-morrow," said he, "we shall judge better, and you will hear what
Dr. Addington will say." While Mr. Stockwood staid, Mr. Littleton and
Betty, my father's cook-maid, behaved tolerably well; but as soon as
he was gone they altered their conduct; however, upon Mr. Norton's
speaking to him, Mr. Littleton became much more civil; and Betty
followed his example. I took a candle, and went up into my own room;
but in the way I listened at my father's door, and found everything
still there; this induced me to hope that he was asleep. On Monday
morning, I went to his door, in order to go in: his tenderness would
not let me stay up a-nights; but I was seldom from him in the daytime.
I was deprived access to him; which so surprised and frightened me,
that I cried out, "What, not see my father!" Upon which, I heard him
reply, "My dear Polly, you shall presently;" and some time after I
did. This scene was inexpressibly moving. The mutual love, sorrow, and
grief, that then appeared, are truly described by Susannah Gunnel;
tho', poor soul, she is much mistaken in many other respects. I was,
as soon as Dr. Addington came, by his orders, confined to my own room;
and not suffered to go near my father, or even so much as to listen at
his door; all the comfort I then could have had, would have been to
know whether he slept or no; but this was likewise refused me. A man
was put into my room night and day; no woman suffer'd to attend me. My
garters, keys, and letters were taken away from me, by Dr. Addington
himself. Dr. Lewis, who it seems was called in, was at this time with
him; but he behaved perfectly like a gentleman to me. During this
confinement I had hardly any thing to eat or drink: and once I staid
from five in the afternoon till the same hour the next day without any
sustenance at all, as the man with me can witness, except a single
dish of tea; which, I believe, I owed to the humanity of Dr. Lewis. I
had frequently very bad fits, and my head was never quite clear; yet I
was sensible the person who gave these orders had no right to confine
me in such a manner. But I bore it patiently, as my room was very near
my father's, and I was fearful of disturbing him. Dr. Addington and
Dr. Lewis then came into my room, and told me "Nothing could save my
dear father." For some time I sat like an image; and then told them,
that I had given him some powders, which I received from Cranstoun,
and feared they might have hurt him, tho' that villain assured me they
were of a very innocent nature. At my trial, it appeared, that Dr.
Addington had wrote down the questions he put to me, but none of my
answers to them. The Judge asked him the reason of this. He said,
"They were not satisfactory to him." To which his lordship replied,
"They might have been so to the Court." The questions were these. Why
I did not send for him sooner? In answer to which, I told him, that I
did send for him as soon as they would let me know that my father was
in the least danger. And that even at last I sent for him against my
father's consent. This, I added, he could not but know, by what my
father said, when he first came on Saturday night into his room. The
next question was, why I did not take some of the powders myself, if I
thought them so innocent? To this I answered, I never was desired by
Mr. Cranstoun to take them; and that if they could produce such an
effect as was ascribed to them, I was sure I had no need of them, but
that had he desired this, I should most certainly have done it. It is
impossible to repeat half the miseries I went thro', unknown, I am
sure, to my poor father. The man that was set over me as my guard had
been an old servant in the family: which I at first thought was done
out of kindness; but am now convinced it was not. When Dr. Addington
was asked, "If I express'd a desire to preserve my father's life, and
on this account desired him to come again the next day, and do all he
could to save him," he said, "I did." He then was asked his sentiments
of that matter; to which he replied, "She seemed to me more concerned
for the consequences to herself than to her father." However, the
Doctor owned that my behaviour shewed me to be anxious for my poor
father's life. Could I paint the restless nights and days I went
through, the prayers I made to God to take me and spare my father,
whose death alone, unattended with other misfortunes, would have
greatly shocked me, the heart of every person who has any bowels at
all would undoubtedly bleed for me. What is here advanced, the man
that attended me knows to be true also, who cannot be suspected of
partiality. Susan Gunnel can attest the same. She observed at this
juncture several instances between us both of filial duty and paternal
affection.

On Wednesday, about two o'clock in the afternoon, by my father's
death, I was left one of the most wretched orphans that ever lived.
Not only indifferent and dispassionate persons, but even some of the
most cruel of mine enemies themselves, seem to have had at least some
small compassion for me. Soon after my father's death I had all his
keys, except that of his study, which I had before committed to the
care of the Rev. Mr. Stevens of Fawley, my dear unhappy uncle,
delivered to me. This gentleman and another of my uncles visited me
that fatal afternoon. This occasioned such a moving scene, as is
impossible for any human pen to describe. After their departure, I
walked like a frantic distracted person. Mr. Skinner, a schoolmaster
in Henley, who came to see me, as I have been since informed, declared
that he did not take me to be in my senses. So that no stress ought to
be laid on any part of my conduct at this time. Nor will this at all
surprise the candid reader, if he will but dispassionately consider
the whole case, and put himself in my place. I had lost mine only
parent, whose untimely death was then imputed to me. Tho' I had no
intention to hurt him, and consequently in that respect was innocent;
yet there was great reason to fear, that I had been made the fatal
instrument of his death--and that by listening to the man I loved
above all others, and even better than life itself. I had depended
upon his, as I imagined, superior honour; but found myself deceived
and deluded by him. The people about me were apprized, that I
entertained, and not without just reason, a very bad opinion of them;
which could not but inspire them with vindictive sentiments, and a
firm resolution to hurt me, if ever they had it in their power. My
cook-maid was more inflamed against me than any of the rest; and yet,
for very good reasons, I was absolutely obliged to keep her. My
mother's maid was disagreeable to me; but yet, on account of money due
to her, which I could not pay, it was not then in my power to dismiss
her. But this most melancholy subject I shall not now chuse any
farther to expatiate upon. I have brought down the preceding narrative
to my father's death, where I at first intended it should end.
Besides, I have now not many days to live, and matters of infinitely
greater moment to think upon. May God forgive me my follies, and my
enemies theirs! May he likewise take my poor soul into his protection,
and receive me to mercy, through the merits of my Mediator and
Redeemer, Jesus Christ, who died to save sinners! Amen.

The foregoing narrative, which I most earnestly desire may be
published, was partly dictated and partly wrote by me, whilst under
sentence of death; and is strictly agreeable to truth in every
particular.

MARY BLANDY.

Witness my hand.

Signed by Miss Mary Blandy, in the Castle at Oxford, April 4,
1752, in presence of two Clergymen, members of the University
of Oxford.




APPENDIX V.

LETTER FROM MISS BLANDY TO A CLERGYMAN IN HENLEY.

(From No. 8 of Bibliography, Appendix XII.)


The following is an answer to a letter sent Miss Blandy by a worthy
clergyman in Henley, upon a very extraordinary subject, and highly
deserves a place here:--

  Rev. Sir,--I received yours, and at first felt all the horror
  innocence so belied could do; but now, Sir, I look on it as a
  blessing from God, both to wean me from this world, and make the
  near approach of death less dreadful to me. You desire me, in your
  letter, if innocent of my poor mother's death and that of Mrs.
  Pocock, to make a solemn declaration, and have it witnessed; which
  I here do. I declare before God, at whose dread Tribunal I must
  shortly appear, that as I hope for mercy there, I never did buy any
  poison, knowingly, whatever of Mr. Prince, who did live at Henley,
  and now lives at Reading, or of Mr. Pottinger, an apothecary and
  surgeon in Henley; nor did I ever buy any poison in Henley, or
  anywhere else in all my life; that as for mother's and Mrs. Pocock's
  death, I am as innocent of it as the child unborn, so help me God
  in my last moments, and at the great Day of Judgment. If ever I did
  hurt their lives, may God condemn me. This, Sir, I hope, will
  convince you of my innocency. And if the world will not believe what
  even I dying swear, God forgive them, and turn their hearts. One day
  all must appear together at one bar. There no prompting of
  witnesses, no lies, no little arts of law will do. There, I doubt
  not, I shall meet my poor father and mother, and my much loved
  friend (through the mercies of Jesus Christ, who died for sinners)
  forgiven and in bliss. There the tears that cannot move man's heart
  shall be by God dried up. Farewell, Sir, God bless you, and believe
  me, while I live, ever Your much obliged humble Servant,

  M. BLANDY.

(_N.B._--This letter was attested to be M. Blandy's, &c., Apr. 4th,
1752.)




APPENDIX VI.

CONTEMPORARY ADVERTISEMENT OF A LOVE PHILTRE.[28]

(From No. 17 of Bibliography, Appendix XII.)


(Here follows an exact copy of a most wicked advertisement, publickly
distributed in the streets of London, and dispersed in the
neighbouring Towns and villages; without any notice taken of such an
enormity by the Magistrates, or any measures pursued to punish the
miscreants who disperse them, according to their desserts. However,
the wretches who thus impose on the world, finding their account
therein, as they certainly do, is a proof of multitudes being as
credulous in this affair as Miss Blandy, and account for her being
imposed on, in the manner she declares she was, by Cranstoun.)

THE FAMOUS LOVE-POWDER, OR LOVE-DROPS.

Sold for Five Shillings a bottle, at the Golden-Ball, in
Stone-Cutters-Street, Fleet-Market.

Any person that is in love with a man, and he won't return it, let her
come to me, and I'll make him glad of her, and thank ye to boot, by
only giving him a little of these love drops, it will make him that he
can't rest without her. And the like, if a man is in love with a young
woman, and she won't comply, let him give her a little of this liquor
of love, and she will not be able to rest without him. If a woman has
got a husband that goes astray, let her give him a few of these drops,
and it will make him, rest at home, and never desire to go no more.
And the like with a man if his wife goes astray, it will make her that
she will never desire no other man.

This liquor is the study of a Jesuit, one Mr. Delore, and is sold by
his nephew, Mr. John Delore, and I promise very fair, if it don't
perform all I say, I'll have nothing for my pains; and if any young
master has debauched a servant, and after won't have her, let her give
him a little of this liquor, and if he don't marry her, I'll have
nothing for it; therefore, I promise very fair, no performance no pay.




APPENDIX VII.

CONTEMPORARY ACCOUNT OF THE EXECUTION OF MARY BLANDY.

(From No. 7 of Bibliography, Appendix XII.)


She was attended daily by the Rev. Mr. Swinton, before whom, there is
no doubt, she behaved properly (though in his absence seemed not under
the least concern) as appears From Mr. Swinton, himself, whose
veracity I don't in the least scruple, who has at various times
declared, that whenever he was with Miss Blandy after her
condemnation, she behaved in a becoming manner for a person under such
circumstances; but I am afraid she had too much art for that
gentleman, and that he was rather too credulous, and often imposed
upon by her; she made him believe, 'tis certain, that after her
mother's death, her apparition frequently appear'd; that there was
musick hoard in the house night and day; yet all the performers were
invisible. The reader will be surprised that stories of this kind
should prevail at this time of day, and still more so, that Mr.
Swinton should listen to them; but I am well informed that this
gentleman himself is apt, to give credit to things of this sort.

Some days before her execution, she said that she intended to speak at
the tree, if she had spirits when she came there, but that she was
afraid the sudden shock of seeing the gallows might be too much for
her to withstand, and that her spirits might fail her, unless she had
an opportunity of seeing it beforehand, which she did, as the reader
will find hereafter.

We are now arrived at the verge of this unfortunate's life; the day
before her execution she receiv'd the Holy Sacrament of the Lord's
Supper, and sign'd and deliver'd the following paper, in order to
convince the world how much she had been imposed on and seduc'd.

I, Mary Blandy, do declare, that I die in a full persuasion of the
truth and excellency of the Christian religion, and a sincere, though
unworthy, member of the Church of England. I do likewise hope for a
pardon and remission of my sins, by the mercy of God, through the
merits and mediation of Jesus Christ, my most blessed Lord and
Saviour. I do also further declare, that I did not know or believe
that the powder, to which the death of my dear father has been
ascribed, had any noxious or poisonous quality lodged in it; and that
I had no intention to hurt, and much less to destroy him, by giving
him that powder; All this is true, as I hope for eternal salvation,
and mercy from Almighty God, in whose most awful and immediate
presence I must soon appear. I die in perfect peace and charity with
all mankind, and do from the bottom of my soul forgive all my enemies,
and particularly those who have in any manner contributed to, or been
instrumental in bringing me to the ignominous death I am so soon to
suffer. This is my last declaration, as to the points therein
contained; and I do most earnestly desire, that it may be published
after my decease. Witness my hand, MARY BLANDY.

It has been before intimated that Miss often declared to the Rev. Mr.
Swinton that since the death of her mother she had frequently in the
night, and sometimes in the day been entertained with musick,
performed, as she imagined, by invisible spirits; and since her
conviction, has often been amused in the same manner; but in the night
before her execution, the musick was more heavenly than ever she had
heard it before; and this she declared in the morning before she was
executed.

As a report had been universally spread that she would be executed on
the Friday before, a very great concourse of people were got together
upon the Castle Green, to be spectators of the execution. Miss went up
several times into the room facing the Green, where she could view the
great crowd of people about it; which she did with all the calmness
and unconcern imaginable; and only said that she would not balk their
expectations, tho' her execution might be deferred a day or two
longer.

About ten o'clock on Sunday night, being informed that the Sheriff was
come to town, she sent a messenger to him, to request that she might
not be disturbed till right in the morning, and that as soon after as
he pleased she would be ready for the great task she had to undergo.
Accordingly, about half an hour after eight, the Sheriff, with her
attorney, and the Rev. Mr. Swinton, went to the Goal, and after half
an hour's private prayers with the clergyman, she came down into the
Goal yard, where the Sheriff's men were, and held two guineas in her
hands for the executioner, which she took with her to the fatal tree.

The night before her execution, she spent the chief of her time in
prayers. She went to bed about the usual hour, and had little rest in
the fore part of the night, but was at prayers in bed between three
and four o'clock; after ending of which, she got up and dress'd
herself; and some time after this, went up into the upper rooms of the
house to look upon the gallows, which is opposite the door of the
goal, and made by laying a poll across upon the arms of two trees,
when she observed that it was very high. She went out of the Castle
about nine o'clock, attended by the Rev. Mr. Swinton, dress'd in a
black crape sack, with her arms and hands ty'd with black paduasoy
ribbons, and her whole dress extremely neat; her countenance was
solemn, and her behaviour well suited to her deplorable circumstances;
but she bore up under her misfortunes with amazing fortitude.

When she came to the gallows Mr. Swinton read several select prayers
suitable to the occasion, and then asked her if she had anything to
say to the populace? to which she answered, yes. She then begged the
prayers of all the spectators, and declared herself guilty of
administering the powder to her father, but without knowing that it
had the least poisonous quality in it, or intending to do him any
injury, as she hoped to meet with mercy at that great Tribunal before
whom she should very shortly appear. And as it had likewise been
rumoured that she was instrumental in the death of her mother in like
manner as her father, and also of Mrs. Pocock, she declared herself
not even the innocent cause of either of their deaths (if she was the
innocent cause of that of her father) as she hoped for salvation in a
future state.

As she ascended the ladder, after she had got _up_ about five steps,
she said, "Gentlemen, do not hang me high, for the sake of decency;"
and then being desired to step up a little higher, she did two stops,
and then turning herself about, she trembled, and said, "I am afraid I
shall fall." After this, the halter was put about her neck, and she
pulled down her handkerchief over her face, without shedding one tear
all the time. In this manner she prayed a little while upon the
ladder, then gave the signal, by holding out a little book which she
had in her hands. There was not a large concourse of people at the
execution, but the most thinking part of them were so affected with
her behaviour and deplorable circumstances, that they were in tears.
After hanging above half an hour the Sheriff gave orders for her being
cut down. Thus far the utmost decorum was observed, but for want of
some proper person to take care of her body, this melancholy scene
became still more shocking to human nature. There was neither coffin
to put her body in, nor hearse to carry it away; nor was it taken back
into the Castle, which was only a few yards, but upon being cut down
was carried through the crowd upon the shoulders of one of the
Sheriff's men in the most beastly manner, with her legs exposed very
indecently for several hundred yards, and then deposited in the
Sheriff's man's house, 'till about half an hour past five o'clock,
when the body was put in a hearse, and carried to Henley, where she
was interred about one o'clock the next morning in the church, between
her father and mother, where was assembled the greatest concourse of
people ever known upon such an occasion. The funeral service was
performed by the same clergyman as wrote the letter, dated the 7th of
March (as before inserted)[29] to whom, among seven guineas which she
left for seven rings, she bequeathed one of them.




APPENDIX VIII.

LETTER FROM THE WAR OFFICE TO THE PAYMASTER-GENERAL, STRIKING
CRANSTOUN'S NAME OFF THE HALF PAY LIST.

(From the original MS. in the possession of Mr. A.M. Broadley.)


  War Office, 14th March, 1752.

  Sir,--On Tuesday the 3d instant came on at Oxford, before the
  Honble. Mr. Baron Legge & Mr. Baron Smythe, the Tryal of Miss Mary
  Blandy for Poisoning her late Father; when first Lieutenant Wm.
  Henry Cranstoune, a reduc'd first Lieut. of Sir Andrew Agnew's late
  Regt. of Marines, now on the British Establishment of Half-Pay, was
  charg'd with contriving the manner of sd. Miss Blandy's Poisoning
  her Father and being an Abettor therein: And he having absconded
  from the time of her being comitted for the above Fact:--I am
  comanded to signify to you it is His Majesty's Pleasure that the sd.
  Lieutenant Wm. Henry Cranstoune be struck off the sd. Establishment
  of Half Pay, and that you do not issue any Moneys remaining in your
  Hands, due to the sd. Lieut. Cranstoune.--I am,

  Sr. your most obedient & most humble Servant,

  H. FOX

  Rt. Honble. Mr. Pitt, Paymaster-General.

[Endorsed] War Office, 14th March, 1752. Mr. Fox to Mr. Pitt directing
the Half Pay of Lieut. Willm. Henry Cranstoun to be Stopt. Ent. No. 1
W.P. Fo. 11.




APPENDIX IX.

THE CONFESSIONS OF CRANSTOUN.


_I.--Cranstoun's Own Version of the Facts._

(From No. 19 of Bibliography, Appendix XII.)

Let us now return to Capt. Cranstoun, who as soon as he heard Miss was
committed to Oxford Jail, secreted himself from the Publick, so that
when Messengers were dispatched with Warrants to apprehend him, he was
not to be found. In this concealment (either in Scotland, or the North
of England) he lay for six months, that is from the middle of August,
till a few days before Miss's Trial, which, came on the 2nd of March,
when being well informed of the dangerous Situation she was in, and
that his own Fate depended upon hers, his thought it high time to take
care of himself; which he did by transporting himself to Bologn in
France.

[Illustration: Captain William Henry Cranstoun, with his pompous
funeral procession in Flanders
(_From an Engraving by B. Cole_.)]

On his Arrival at Bologn, he found out one Mrs. Ross, whose Maiden
Name was Dunbar and a distant relation to his family. To this woman he
made his Application, told her the Troubles in which he was involved
and entreated her to have so much compassion on him as to protect and
conceal him till the storm was a little blown over, and to screen him
from the Dangers he had just Reason to apprehend. Mrs. Ross was so
affected by his disastrous condition, that in regard to the noble
Family of which he was an unhappy Branch, she promised to serve him in
the best Manner she could; but advised him to change his name, and to
take that of Dunbar, which had been that of her own.

Here the Captain thought himself secure from the Pursuit of his
Enemies; but, unluckily for him, some of his Wife's Relations, who
were Officers in some French Troops residing there, got Scent of him,
and knowing in what a base & treacherous manner he had used that
unhappy Woman, and being inform'd, that, to escape the Hand of
Justice, he had fled thither for Refuge, threatened Vengeance if ever
they should light on him, for his inhuman Usage of his Wife. The
Captain hearing of their Menaces, and not doubling but they would be
as good as their Words, kept very close in his Lodging.

In this obscurity he continued to the 26th of July, not daring to
speak to any Body, or even to stir out of doors. But being at length,
weary of his Confinement, and under dreadful Apprehensions that he
should one day fall a Sacrifice to the Resentment of his Persecutors,
consulted with Mrs. Ross, what course he should take to avoid the
Dangers he was then exposed to. After mature Deliberation, it was
agreed, that he and his two companions who went over with him, should
take a trip to Paris; and in order to secure a place of retreat, upon
any Emergency, Mrs. Ross should go to Furnes, a town in Flanders, in
the Jurisdiction of the Queen of Hungary, where they would come to her
on their return.

Accordingly the next Morning before Day, they set out on their
Journey, not in a Postchaise, or any Publick Vehicle, for fear of a
Discovery, but on Foot; and lodging every Night at some obscure
Village, till their Arrival at Paris.

The Subject of their Conversation on the Road generally turned upon
the Captain's Amours and the Intrigues he had been engaged in with the
Fair Sex, but more particularly his affair with Miss Blandy. They
expressed their surprize that he should make his addresses to a young
Lady of her Character and Fortune, with a view of marrying her, when
the Conjugal Obligations he was already under, rendered the
Accomplishment impossible:

Nothing, answered the Captain, seems impossible to Men of undaunted
Courage and heroic Spirits.... Now, as to Miss Blandy, with whom you
are surprized I should enter into such deep engagements, attend to my
Reasons, and your Wonder I believe will soon cease. I am, you know,
the Son of a Nobleman, and, consequently have those high Thoughts and
ambitious Desires which are inherent to those of a noble Extraction.
As a younger Son, my Patrimony was too small to gratify my Passion for
those Pleasures enjoyed by my Equals. This put me on contriving
Schemes to answer the Extent of my Ambition.

On my coming to Henley, my first Enquiry was, what Ladies were the
Toasts among the Men of Pleasure & Gaiety. Miss Blandy was named as
the chief of them, and famed for a great Fortune. Accident soon gave
me an Interview with her; I visited, and was well received by the
whole Family, and soon insinuated myself into her good Graces, and I
quickly perceived that she had swallowed the Bait. The Father
entertained me at Bed and Board, and the Daughter obliged me with her
Company, and supplyed my Wants of Money upon every Emergency, nor was
the Mother less fond of me than the Daughter.

But no human Bliss is permanent; it was not long before a Discovery
was made that I was a married Man. Here I had Occasion for the
Exercise of all my Cunning. To deny it, I knew was to no purpose,
because it would be proved; and to own it, might be the means of
ruining my Design. Now, in order to steer safely between Scilla and
Charibdis, I fairly owned the Charge; but at the same Time intimated,
that the Noose was not tyed so fast, but that it might be easily
undone, and that I was then in a Fair Way of setting that Marriage
aside; and to gain belief to my Assertion, I persuaded my poor
credulous Wife to disown me for her Husband, whose Letter restored me
to the good opinion of the Family, but especially of my Mistress and
her Mother.

The old Gentleman, however, was not so easy of Belief; he was afraid
there was a Snake in the Grass and tho' he seemed to give Credit to my
Protestations, that the Cause would quickly be decided, yet I could
easily perceive a Coldness in his Behaviour, which was an evident
Proof to me that I had lost ground in his favour; nor was I less
sensible that the event of my Trial in Scotland, would not contribute
anything to replace me in his good Opinion. I found myself in such a
situation, that I must very shortly, either lose my Mistress, and,
what was more valuable to me, her Fortune, or make one desperate Push
to recover both. Several schemes for this purpose were offered to my
Thoughts; but none seemed so feasible as dispatching the Old Man into
the other World: For if he was but once Dead, I was well assured I
should soon be in Possession of his Estate. I had however, one
Difficulty to surmount, which was, to make my Mistress a Party
concerned in the Execution of my Project. I knew she was greatly
provoked at her Father's late unkind Behaviour to me; which I took
care to aggravate all I could, which produced the Effects I desired;
and she declared she was ready to embrace any scheme I could propose
to release us from our Embarrassments; nay, I convinced her, that we
should never have her Father's consent, and therefore it would be in
vain to wait for it. And, in order to fix her entirely in my Interest,
I used all my Rhetorick to persuade her to a private Marriage, which
however for good Reasons she did not think proper to agree to; yet she
gave me her solemn Vow, that no other Man but myself should call her
Wife, and that in the mean Time, she should reckon herself in Duty
bound to have the utmost Regard to my Will & Pleasure.

What I now speak of, was after Judgment was given against me in
Scotland, and a Decree, confirming the Validity of my Marriage, had
been pronounced. This Decree, I assured Mr. Blandy, his Wife and
Daughter, I should be able to vacate by an Appeal to the next
Sessions. After several pretended Delays in the Proceedings, finding
Mr. Blandy's temper very much soured against me, I thought it
necessary to hasten my Project to a Conclusion. To this end I had
several private conferences with my Mistress; wherein I observed to
her the visible decay of her Father's Affections to me, and the
Improbability of his ever giving his consent to our marriage, and
therefore that other measures must be taken to accomplish our
Happiness, which otherwise would be very precarious. I told her I was
possessed of a Drug, produced no where but in Scotland, of such rare
Qualities, that by a proper Application, it would procure Love where
there never was any, or restore it when absolutely lost and gone. Of
this Drug, or Powder, I would give some to her Father, and she would
soon be convinced of its Efficacy by its benevolent Effects.
Accordingly I mixed some with his Tea several times, But in such small
quantities as I knew would not immediately effect him; and I assured
her, that tho' it did not produce a visible Alteration at present, its
Operations being slow and internal, yet in the end it would
effectually do its Work.

I likewise pretended there was an absolute Necessity for my going into
Scotland in order to bring on the Appeal, but in reality to carry on
my Design against old Blandy with the greater secrecy and security.
But before I went, I took care to infuse such notions into her Head as
tended to lessen the Guilt of destroying the Life of a Father, who
obstructed the Happiness of his only Child; and strenuously argued,
that the froward humours of old Age ought not to put a restraint on
the Pleasures of Youth, and that when they did so, there was no sin in
removing the Obstacle out of the way.

But to prevail with her to come more heartily into my Measures, I
played another Stratagem upon her.... Having thus persuaded her into a
Belief of an Event, which I had good Grounds to be assured would
certainly happen, I found no great difficulty in bringing her to use
the Means to accomplish it. I told her I was then going to Scotland,
for the Purposes she knew; that I would thence send her a Quantity of
the Powder; and to prevent a Discovery, would send her a Parcel of
Scots Pebbles, with Directions to use it in cleaning them, but really
in the Manner as she had seen me use it, & as often as she had
Opportunity.

Miss, I find, in the Narrative she has published of her Case, solemnly
declares, she was perfectly ignorant of the noxious Quality of the
Powder: but had she suffered the Publick to have seen my Letters, the
World would have known that she was privy to the Design, and equally
concerned in the Plot, as I can convince you even to Demonstration by
her Answers to my Letters, under her own Hand, which I will show you
when we return to our Lodgings. However, I do not blame her for
denying it, because it was the only means she had left of persuading
the World to believe her innocent.

Perhaps, Gentlemen, you will suppose I am guilty of a great deal of
Vanity, in imagining myself capable of so grossly imposing on the
Understanding of a Lady of such refined sense as Miss Blandy was
acknowledged to be. In answer to which I can only say, that when Love
has taken possession of the Heart, it leaves but very little Room for
Reflection. That this was Miss Blandy's case, I will give you some few
instances of the violence of her Passion, and then leave you to judge
to what extravagant Lengths that might carry her.

As my small Income afforded me but slender Supplies, I was frequently
in Debt, and as often at a loss how to come off with Honour. Miss was
my constant Friend on such Occasions; and when her own Purse could not
do it, she had recourse to her Servant, Susan Gunnel, who having
scraped together about 90l. Miss borrowed near 80l. of it for the
relief of my Wants.

Again; at the Death of the Prince of Wales,[30] her Father gave her
twenty Guineas to buy her Mourning, of which she laid out about 51.
for that Purpose, and the Remainder she remitted to me, being then in
Scotland.

Another Instance of the Extravagance of her Passion was this: You must
know, that during the Course of our mutual Love and Tenderness, some
envious female Sprite whispered in her Ear, that I had at that very
time a Bastard, and was obliged to maintain both Mother and Child. To
this Charge I pleaded guilty, but told her, that it was a piece of
Gallantry that was never imputed to a Soldier as a Crime, and hoped I
might plead the general Practice in Excuse. In short, she not only
forgave me, but contributed all in her Power to the Support of both.

Miss however, was not so easily pacified on another Occasion, when she
happened to spring a Mine that had like to have blown up all my works.
When I lodged in the House, some Occasion or other calling me suddenly
into the Town, I forgot to take out the Key of my Trunk. Miss coming
into the Room soon afterwards, sees the Key, and opens the Repository,
when the first thing she cast her Eyes upon, was a Letter, which I had
lately received from a Mistress I kept in _Petto_. This opened such a
scene of Ingratitude and Perfidy, that when she charged me with it, I
was scarce able to stand the Shock, and was so thunderstruck, that for
some time I had not a word to say for myself. But when I had a little
recollected my scattered Spirits, I had Address enough to pacify her
Wrath, even in an Instance of such a notorious Breach of my Fidelity.

These you will allow, were uncommon Instances of Affection for a Man
so circumstanced as I was; after which, can you suppose her capable of
denying me anything within the Compass of her Power? Can you any
longer wonder that she should join with me in compassing the Death of
her Father, when I had convinced her that our Happiness could no
otherwise be accomplished?

In this manner the Captain entertained his Companions on their Journey
to Paris. Where being arrived, they took a Lodging in a By-street....
Every day for a fortnight, they spent in visiting the most remarkable
places in Paris.... But finding their Exchequer pretty near exhausted,
they began seriously to think of returning home to their good
Landlady. Accordingly they set out on their journey and on the third
day reached Furnes, where they again met with a kind reception. Mr.
Ross, their Landlord, was likewise then just returned from England,
where the Captain had sent him to receive Money for a Bill of 60l.
which was the only Remittance that was sent him from his Arrival in
France to the Time of his Death.

Not long after his return to Fumes he was taken with a severe Fit of
Illness, from which however he recovered.... In this miserable
condition he languished till he bethought himself that possibly he
might receive some spiritual Belief from a Father famed for his Piety
in a neighbouring Convent. To him he addresses himself and entreats
his assistance & advice. The good Father having probed the wounds of
his Conscience, and brought him to a due sense of his Sins, applyed
the healing remedy of Absolution, on the Penitent's declaring himself
reconciled to the Church of Rome.

After this, Cranstoun seemed to be pretty easy in his mind, but e'er
long was seized with a terrible desease in his body, which was swoln
to that Degree that it was apprehended he would have burst, & felt
such Torments in every Limb & Joint, as made him wish for Death for
some days before he died, which was Nov. 30, 1752.... After the
Funeral was over, a Letter was sent to his Mother, the Lady Dowager
Cranstoun; to which an answer was soon returned with an Order, to
secure & seal up all his Papers of every kind, & transmit them to his
Brother the Lord Cranstoun in Scotland and his cloathes, consisting
chiefly of Laced & Embroidered Waistcoats, to be sold for the
Discharge of his Debts; All this was punctually complied with.

I shall only add, that by the Captain's Death, his wife came to enjoy
the 75l. a year, the Interest of the 1500l. which was his Paternal
Fortune; and by his Will, Heir to the Principal, to support her and
her Daughter; which was some Recompense for the Troubles and Vexations
he had occasioned her.


_II.--Captain Cranstoun's Account of the Poisoning of the Late Mr.
Francis Blandy._

(No. 20 of Bibliography, Appendix XII.)

PREFACE TO THE PUBLICK.

As the Publick are in great Doubts concerning the Truth of the cruel,
and almost unparalleled Murder of the late Mr. Blandy, of HENLEY UPON
THAMES, in Oxfordshire, by Reason of the mysterious Accounts published
as the Confession of his Daughter, who was executed for that cruel
Parricide, and which were done by her own Desire and Direction: the
following Pages are thought necessary to be made publick, by which the
World may be satisfied concerning that tragical Affair: which is from
the Words of Captain WILLIAM-HENRY CRANSTOUN, hitherto supposed, but
now out of Doubt, to have been concerned with her in that black Crime:
and also from original Letters of hers, and papers found immediately
after his Decease, in his Portmanteau-Trunk in his Room in the House
of Mons. MAULSET, the Sign of the BURGUNDY CROSS, in the Town of
FURNES, in the AUSTRIAN NETHERLANDS, where he died on THURSDAY, the
30th of NOVEMBER last, and was buried in the Cathedral Church there,
in great Funeral Pomp, on the second of DECEMBER.

It is thought needless to premise any more, only to assure the Publick
that what is contained in the following short Tract is authentick, and
gives an account of the Vicissitudes of Fortune, which attended
Captain CRANSTOUN, from the Time of his absconding for Prevention of
his being apprehended, to the Time of his Death, which was attended
with great Torments.

  Miss Mary Blandy, being suspected of poisoning her Father, Mr.
  Francis Blandy, who died in great Agonies, on the 14th of August,
  1751, was examined by the Mayor and Coroner of Henley upon Thames:
  and there appearing, upon the Oaths of the Servants to the Deceased,
  and others, sufficient Grounds to think that Miss Blandy, with the
  Assistance and Advice of Capt. William Henry Cranstoun, was the
  Parracide, she was accordingly committed to Oxford Castle: and a
  proper Warrant and Messenger was sent, in order to apprehend the
  said Capt. Cranstoun, who was then supposed to be either in
  Northumberland or Scotland, with his Mother: but the Affair being in
  the News-Papers, it reached the Knowledge of a certain Person of
  Distinction, who was a relation of the Captain's, before the
  Messenger and Warrant got down, who informed him thereof: upon which
  the Captain thought it most advisable to abscond: And being secreted
  from that Time, in England, till the Beginning of March, 1752, when
  Miss was tried at Oxford Assizes, and found guilty, it was then
  thought proper for him to get out of the Kingdom: as upon her Trial
  it appeared, beyond all Doubt, that he was principally concerned in
  that Murder, and furnished her with the Powders that compleated the
  vile Deed.

  On the eighteenth Day of March, at which Time she lay under Sentence
  of Death, he embarked in a Vessel for Bologne in France, and went by
  the name of Dunbar, a Female distant relation of his, of that name,
  being there at the time: who was married to one R----[31], and who
  was there on Account of some Debts he had contracted in Great
  Britain.

  Cranstoun arrived at Bologne on the 27th Day of the Month of March,
  which soon being known, he was obliged to be kept secret in that
  Town; as some of the Relations of his Wife who were Officers in one
  of the Scotch Regiments in the French Service, upon hearing of his
  being there, declared they would destroy him, not only for his cruel
  and villainous Usage to his Wife and Child, but also as being a
  Murderer: and went purposely to Bologne.

  He continued at Bologne in Secret till the 20th of July last, when
  he absconded privately in the Morning early, with the said R----,
  and his Wife who were obliged to fly, on Account of an Arret of the
  Parliament of Paris, which had ordered him to pay 1000 Livres, and
  Cost of a Law-Suit, to the famous or, more properly, infamous
  Captain P-----w,[32] so well known here: And as that Affair was
  something remarkable, I shall here give the reader a brief Relation
  of it, notwithstanding it is foreign to Mr. Cranstoun's Affair,
  which, as it will take up but little Room, I am almost persuaded
  will not be disagreeable to the Reader.

  A certain Irish Nobleman being at Bologna, on Account of Debts he
  owed in England, Capt. P----w being there at the same Time, got
  acquainted with the above-named Irish Lord. At this Time Mr. R----,
  who was married to Mr. Cranstoun's Relation, as above-named, was a
  Merchant in that Town, and who, together with many more of the
  Merchants of the Place, was taken in very considerably by the said
  Irish Lord.

  The above-nam'd Lord having got as deep in Debt as he possibly
  could, and his being so intimately acquainted with the Captain, who
  lived very profusely with my Lord, on the Money he had got upon
  Credit: this R----, with the Rest of that Nobleman's Creditors,
  began to press his Lordship for their Money, and his Lordship
  finding it impossible to weather the Storm off much longer, having
  told them, from Time to Time, that he was to have great Remittances
  from his Steward: and P----w puffing his Lordship off greatly to the
  Creditors, his Lordship secretly got away from Bologne, in a Vessel
  that was bound for Ireland.

  His Lordship being gone, the Creditors all agreed (affirming that
  P----w was concerned in facilitating his Escape, and cheating them)
  to apply to the Magistrates of the City of Bologne for a Process
  against P----w, for their several Debts due to them from his
  Lordship, as he was not only concerned in helping him to make his
  Escape, but had partaken largely of the Money.

  Upon their application P----w was arrested, and cast by the
  Magistrates of Bologne afterwards in the Law-Suit: who appealing to
  the Parliament of Paris, against the Decree and Judgment of the
  Magistrates of Bologne: they on hearing the Cause on both sides,
  reversed the Decree of the Magistrates of Bologne, and issued in May
  last an Arret, that his Lordship's Creditors should pay to the
  Captain, as Damages for his false Imprisonment, Costs and Scandal he
  had sustained by the Prosecution of their Suit, 3000 Livres, besides
  all his costs in both Courts, and also that they should be at the
  Expence of Printing and Paper, for 1500 Copies of the said Arret,
  which were to be stuck up on the Exchanges, and other Publick
  Places, in the several Cities and great Towns in France; which was
  accordingly done, the latter End of the said Month of May, pursuant
  to the said Arret.

  Mr. Cranstoun about this time received a Bill of £60 from Scotland,
  payable in London, which Mr. R---- went privately to London with,
  and got the Money for: which was all the Remittances Cranstoun ever
  had to the Time of his Death, from Great Britain.

  Mr. R---- being returned to Bologne with the Cash in July, and not
  being able to satisfy his Part of the Arret of the Parliament of
  Paris, to the Captain, and dreading the fatal Consequence thereof,
  privately absconded, as is related before, with his Wife and
  Cranstoun, to Ostend in the Queen of Hungary's Territories, as a
  Sanctuary from the Arret of the French Parliament: where they
  continued only about fourteen Days, and then removed to Furnes, and
  took up their Abode at the House known by the Sign of the Burgundy
  Cross, where Mr. R---- died in September, and Cranstoun the 30th of
  November following.

  During the Time of his living at Furnes, he always went by the Name
  of Dunbar, and first Cousin to Mrs. R----.

  Capt. P----w, on the Credit of this Arret of Parliament, put up for
  a great Man: who being known too well at Bologne to live there,
  either with Respect or Honour, removed to a Town in France, call'd
  Somers, nine Miles from Bologne, in the Road to Paris, where he took
  the grandest House in the Place: but his Fortune being only outside
  Shew, as it was when in England, in September he absconded from
  thence: and was obliged to fly into the Queen of Hungary's Country
  for Protection, having contracted large Debts in France.

  The Captain now began his old Tricks; for at Brussels, going for a
  London Merchant, he obtained a Parcel of fine Lace, some Pieces of
  Velvets, and other Things, to the Amount of near £200, for which he
  gave the Gentleman of Brussels a pretended Bill for £321 8s. 6d. of
  a Banker's in London: and on the Payment of the said Bill, he was to
  have another large Parcel of Goods.

  The Bill was sent to England for Payment, but the Captain had fled
  before the Return of a Letter, which informed the Tradesman that it
  was a counterfeit Bill: whereupon they pursued him, and soon found
  that the Goods he had obtained were shipped on Board a Vessel for
  England, at Flushing, a Sea-Port in Zealand, belonging to the States
  of Holland, from which Place the Captain had been gone three Days:
  that was the last Account that Mrs. R---- and Cranstoun ever heard
  of him.

  I shall now proceed to the Account given by Captain Cranstoun,
  concerning the poisoning of Mr. Blandy: in which I shall insert
  three Letters, bearing Date the 30th of June, the 16th of July, and
  the 18th of August, 1751: all directed for the Honourable William
  Henry Cranstoun, Esq., which were found among his Papers at his
  Death: all being judged by the near Similitude of the Writings to
  have been wrote by one Person: and tho' no Name was subscribed at
  the Bottom of either, yet, by their Contents, they plainly shew from
  whom they were sent.

  Mr. Cranstoun, at his first Coming into France, talked very little
  concerning the Affair of Mr. Blandy's Death: but some Time after,
  having read the Account published in London (by the Divine that
  attended Miss Blandy in her Confinement) as her own Confession, and
  at her desire: which was brought him by Mr. R----, when he came from
  London, from receiving the £60 Bill before-mentioned, he began to be
  more open upon that Head to Mr. R----, particularly in vindicating
  himself, and blaming her for Ingratitude, for he said, she was as
  much the Occasion of the unfortunate Deed as himself: which will
  more fully appear from the following Relation which he gave of it
  himself.

  That they having contracted so great a Friendship and mutual Love,
  which was absolutely strengthened by a private Marriage of her own
  proposing, lest he should prove ungrateful to her (which he said
  were her own Words) after so material an Intimacy, and leave her,
  and go and live with his real Wife, and her Mother being dead, she
  and he, the first Time they met after her Mother's Decease (which he
  believed was about 9 or 10 months before Mr. Blandy died, and which
  was the last Time he was at Henley) began to consult how they should
  get the old Gentleman out of the Way, she proposing, as soon as they
  could get Possession of the Effects of the Father, to go both into
  Northumberland, and live upon it with his Mother: That he did
  propose the Method that was afterwards put in Practice, and she very
  readily came into it, and the whole Affair was settled between them,
  when he left Henley the last Time, and never before.

  He frequently declared, that he believed her Mother was a very
  virtuous Woman, and blamed her much, for giving such a ludicrous, as
  well as foreign Account, of some Transactions between him and her
  Mother, in her Narrative: and hoped, he said, that what was
  published as her solemn Declaration, That she did not know (_sic_)
  that the Powder which he had sent her, with some Peebles, and which
  she had administered to her Father, were of a poisonous Quality, was
  a falsehood, and published without her Knowledge, as it appeared to
  him the same was not done till after she was dead: for that she was
  sensible of what Quality they were, and for what purpose sent, and
  particularly by the effect they had on a Woman, who was a Servant in
  her Father's Family, sometime before, as she had wrote him Word.

  It will not be improper, in this Place, to insert the Letters, as
  they tend to the Confirmation of what Mr. Cranstoun had declared.

  LETTER I.

    Dear Willy,--These, I hope, will find you in Health, as they leave
    me, but not in so much Perplexity: for I have endeavoured to do as
    directed by yours, with the Contents of your Presents, and they
    will not mix properly.

    The old Woman that chars sometimes in the House, having drank a
    little Liquor in which I had put some is very bad: and I am
    conscious of the Affair being discovered, without you can put me
    into some better, or more proper Method of using them. When you
    write, let it be as mystically as you please, lest an Interception
    should happen to your Letter, for I shall easily understand it.
    When I think of the Affair in Hand, I am in great Distress of
    Mind, and endeavour to bear up under it as well as I can: but
    should be glad if you was near me, to help to support my fleeting
    Spirits: But why should I say so, or desire any such Thing, when I
    consider your cogent Reasons for being at a Distance: as it might,
    as soon as the Affair is compleated, be the Occasion of a bad
    Consequence to us both.

    I have nothing more to add, but only desire you would not be long
    before you send me your Answer.

    Yours affectionately, &c.

    June 30, 1751.

  (The superscription of this letter, and the next following, was
  almost rubbed out, so could not be exactly seen: but as the word
  Berwick was quite plain, as well as his name, it is supposed they
  were directed as the third letter was.)


  LETTER. II.

    Dear Willy,--I received yours safe on the 11th Instant, and I am
    glad to hear you are well. I particularly understand what you
    mean, and I'll polish, the Peebles as well as I can, for there
    shall not be wanting any Thing in my Power, to do the Business
    effectually. They begin to come brighter by the new Method I have
    taken: and as soon as I find the good Effects of the Scheme, you
    shall have Intelligence with all convenient Speed. Adieu, for this
    Time, my Spirits damping much: but pray God keep us in Health,
    till we have the Happiness of seeing each other.

    Yours affectionately, &c.

    July 16, 1751.


  LETTER III.

    Dear Willy,--I have been in great Anxiety of Mind since last
    Post-Day, by not hearing from you. Your letter of the 24th of last
    Month, I received safe Yesterday, and am somewhat enlivened in my
    Spirits by understanding you are well. I am going forward with all
    convenient Speed in the Business: and have not only a fatiguing
    Time of it, but am sometimes in the greatest Frights, there being
    constantly about me so many to be kept insensible of the Affair.
    You may expect to hear again from me soon: and rest yourself
    assured, that tho' I suffer more Horrors of Mind than I do at this
    Time, which I think is impossible, I will pursue that, which is
    the only Method, I am sensible, left, of ever being happy
    together. I hope, by my next, to inform you that the Business is
    compleated.

    Yours affectionately, &c.

    August 1, 1751.

  Directed for the Honourable Mr. William Henry Cranstoun, to be left
  at the Post-House, at Berwick.

  By these Letters, and the account which Cranstoun himself had given,
  it plainly appears that the Murder of Mr. Blandy had been consulted
  some Time: and that it must be supposed that the Powders had been
  attempted, if not absolutely given him in his Victuals, or Liquor,
  before the Time they were put into his Gruel, as was discovered by
  the Maid-Servant, and which proved the Cause of his Death.

  Also by these Letters it is most reasonable to believe that what was
  meant in the last by the words, "Tho' I suffer more Horrors of Mind
  than I do at this Time, I will pursue": that it came from the
  unfortunate and infatuated Miss Blandy, and that poisoning her
  Father was then fully resolved on by her: which reasonable
  Supposition is much strengthened by the subsequent Words in the same
  Letter, viz., "I hope in my next to inform you that the Business is
  compleated." And I really think it can admit of no Doubt, as the
  administring the Powders to him in his Water-Gruel, which was the
  Cause of his Death, was but four days after the Date of this Letter,
  for it appears by its Date to be sent on Thursday the first of
  August, and Monday the fifth of the same Month, she acknowledged she
  put the Powders into the Gruel: which was proved by Dr. Addington
  and Dr. Lewis, on her Trial, to be the Cause of Mr. Blandy's Death,
  who languished till the 14th of the same Month, when he expired.

  That other Part of the same Letter, where 'tis said, "I am going
  forward with, all convenient Speed in the Business, and have not
  only a fatiguing Time of it, but am sometimes in the greatest
  Fright: there being so many constantly about me, to be kept
  insensible of the Affair," is plain enough meant that when she
  thought of the wicked Deed she was about to perform, it brought her
  Conscience to fly in her Face, as she advanced: and that the
  Servants of the House were the great Obstacles in her Way.

  I shall not takes up the Reader's Time any longer, in making
  Observations on the Letters, only observe in general that they all
  shew that the Writer was sensibly touched, at such Times as they
  were endeavouring to practice the hellish Device, to destroy the old
  Gentleman; and also, that sometimes their Consciences led them to
  think of what the Consequences of such an enormous Crime must be.

  I shall now return to Mr. Cranstoun. While he was at Furnes he was
  very thoughtful, and was never observed to be once in a merry
  Humour: frequently staying in his Room all Day, except Meal-Times:
  and praying very devoutly.

  On his finding himself once very ill, tho' it was six Weeks before
  he died (for he recovered and went abroad after that Illness), he
  made a Will, all which he wrote with his own Hand: in which he left,
  after paying his Debts, at Furnes, to M. Malsot, where he lived, and
  his Funeral Charges, all his paternal Fortune, of £1500, to his
  Daughter by his Wife, who lives with her Relations, at Hexham, in
  Northumberland.

  This £1500 which he left in his Will to his Child, was what was left
  him on the Death of his Father: and the Estate of his elder Brother,
  the Lord Cranstoun, was charged with the Payment of it: and he
  received £75 per Annum, in Lieu of the Principal Sum, £50 per Annum
  of which was settled by Order of the Lords of Sessions, in Scotland,
  on his Wife, at the Time when he had Villainy sufficient to bring a
  Cause before the Court of Sessions, to set aside his Marriage: and
  from that Time she has received it, for the Support of her and her
  Child.

  The Gentlewoman he had married, and was wicked enough to deny,[33]
  was the Daughter of the late Sir David Murray, Baronet, and Sister
  of the present Sir David Murray, who is now in the Service of the
  King of France, in the East Indies: This young Gentleman was
  unfortunate enough to take Part with the young Pretender in the late
  Rebellion, being Nephew to Mr. Murray, of Broughton, the Pretender's
  then Secretary: and after the Battle of Culloden was taken Prisoner,
  and tried at Carlisle, where he received Sentence of Death as a
  Rebel: but for his Youth, not being then above eighteen Years of
  Age, he was reprieved and transported.

  One Circumstance that appeared on the Trial of the Legality of his
  Marriage with Miss Murray was very particular, as he had the Folly,
  as well as the Wickedness, to deny the same: and that was, a
  Marriage-Settlement of £50 per Annum, which he had made on her in
  his own Hand-Writing, was produced and proved: which was confirmed
  by the Lords of Sessions.

  After the Burial of Mr. Cranstoun, at Furnes, a Letter was sent to
  his Wife, at Hexham, to inform her of it, and another was sent to
  the Lady Dowager Cranstoun, his Mother: to the last of which an
  Answer was soon returned, which was to desire, that all his Papers
  and Will might be sealed up, and sent to his Brother, Lord
  Cranstoun, in Scotland, with an Account of what was owing, and to
  whom, in Order for their being paid, but his Cloaths, which
  consisted of some very rich Waistcoats, were desired to be sold at
  Furnes: which was done accordingly.

  He frequently declared his Life was a Burthen to him, and in his
  Death he suffered great Torments: for his body was so much swoln,
  that it was expected he would have bursted for several Days before
  he died.

  As Miss Blandy had given an Account in her Narrative, that it was
  him who first proposed a private Marriage with each other, he
  solemnly declared, just before he died, that he could not be
  positive which of them proposed it first: but that he was certain,
  that it was Miss Blandy that desired and insisted it should be so,
  and was very pressing till it was done: And he often called upon God
  Almighty to forgive both his Crimes, and those of Miss Blandy,
  particularly, he said hers, as she had died with asserting so many
  enormous Falsities contained in that Account, said to be published
  by her Orders and Inspection.




APPENDIX X.

EXTRACT FROM A LETTER FROM DUNKIRK ANENT THE DEATH OF CRANSTOUN.

(From the _London Magazine_, February, 1753.)


On Dec. 2 last died at the sign of the Burgundy-cross in Furness, a
town belonging to the Queen of Hungary, about 15 English miles East of
this place, Capt. William Henry Cranstoun, aged forty-six. His illness
did not continue above 9 days, but the last three his pains were so
very great, and he was swelled to such a degree, that it was thought
by the physician and apothecary that attended him, that he would have
burst, and by the great agonies he expired in, he was thought to be
raving mad. As he had just before his death embraced the Roman
Catholick religion, he was buried in great solemnity, the corporation
attending the funeral, and a grand mass was said over the corpse in
the cathedral church, which was finely illuminated, and in which he
was buried. Some little time before he died he made a will, which was
sealed up in the presence of one Mrs. Ross (whose maiden name was
Dunbar, and which name he went by) and two other persons who were also
his acquaintance. The will he signed with his own name, and gave all
his fortune which was in his brother's hands to his child, who is now
living at Hexham in Northumberland, with her mother, to whom he had so
villainously denied being married, and for which he often said, a
curse had attended him for injuring the character of so good a wife.
When he was asked concerning Mr. Blandy's murder, he often reflected
on himself greatly, yet said, that Miss Blandy ought not to have
blamed him so much as she did, but the particulars of which he said
should never be known till his death. He first made his escape out of
England the latter end of last February to Bologne; but as soon as he
was known to be there, was obliged to be kept concealed by Mrs. Ross,
some relations of his wife's, who were in that country, threatening
revenge for his base usage to her; so that Miss Ross and he were
obliged at last to fly from Bologne by night, which was on the 26th of
July last, and lived in Furnes from that time. The fortune in his
Brother's hands, which he has left to his child, by his will, is
£1500, his patrimony which he formerly received 5 per cent. for, but
on his being cast before the Lords of Session in Scotland, in the
cause concerning the validity of his marriage, which was confirmed,
£50 out of the £75 was ordered by their lordships to be paid the wife
annually for the support of her and the child, which she received, and
has lived ever since with some of her relations in Hexham
aforementioned. It was further said that before he died he declared
that he and Miss Blandy were privately married before the death of her
mother, which was near two years before Mr. Blandy was poisoned.




APPENDIX XI.

LETTER FROM JOHN RIDDELL, THE SCOTS GENEALOGIST, TO JAMES MAIDMENT,
REGARDING THE DESCENDANTS OF CRANSTOUN.

(From the original MS. in the possession of Mr. John A. Fairley.)


  Edinburgh, April 16th, 1843. 57 Melville Street,

  My Dear Sir,--I herewith return your Blandy and Cranstoun
  collections, with many thanks.

  I certainly understood from the late James Rutherford, Esqr., of the
  Customs, Edinburgh, a cadet of the Rutherfords of Edgerston, and
  through his mother, a female descendant--one of the nearest--of the
  Edmonstones of Corehouse, that it was in consequence of the great
  exertions of an Edmonstone of Corehouse that the guilty Cranston was
  first concealed, and afterwards enabled to escape abroad. I think he
  said that the Edmonstones of Corehouse were descended, or relatives,
  of the Cranstons, but that the latter were not descended of the
  former, or could be in any respect their heirs.

  A greater intimacy, however, subsequently arose between the two
  families, owing to the friendly exertions of the Edmonstone as
  above, that ended in a superannuated lady, the late Miss Edmonstone
  of Corehouse, entailing or settling her estate upon the present
  George Cranstoun of Corehouse,[34] nephew of the poisoner, to the
  exclusion of the late Roger Ayton, and her other heirs at law. In
  this manner the Cranston family may be said to have benefitted by
  his atrocity, and advantage to have resulted from evil; the
  friendship or kindness of the Edmonstones having been rivetted and
  increased towards the relatives of him they had rescued, and whom,
  on that account, they additionally cherished--this I learnt from the
  previous authority referred to. Nay, the old lady wished above all
  things that the _ci-devant_ judge should marry and continue his
  line, a thing that for some special reason he did not desire, and
  found it difficult to stave off to her. This also from the same
  authority. Though very old, no legal ground could be found on
  enquiry by which her settlement could be voided.

  The following excerpt from the Statement of the Evidence submitted
  to the jury, on the occasion of the present Admiral Sir Thomas
  Livingstone of Westquarter, Baronet, being served heir-male of
  James, first Earl of Calender in 1821, in which I was professionally
  engaged, shews what became of the issue of William Henry Cranstoun,
  the poisoner. Alexander (Livingstone) of Bedlormie and Ogilface,
  afterwards Sir Alexander Livingstone, Bart., having succeeded to the
  Scottish Baronetage of Westquarter and to the estates of that branch
  of the house of Livingstone, was twice married; first to Anne
  Atkinson, daughter of John Atkinson of London, and secondly to Jane
  Cranston, daughter of the Honourable William Henry Cranston, fifth
  son of the Lord Cranston. By his first marriage he had seven sons,
  Alexander, William, Thomas, the claimant (still alive), John,
  Thurstanus, James and George, and one daughter, Anne, married to the
  Rev. John Fenton of Torpenhow, in the County of Cumberland. By his
  second marriage he had two sons, Francis and David, both dead
  unmarried, and one daughter, Elizabeth, married to James Kirsopp,
  Esquire, of the Spital, Northumberland.

  I remain,

  Yours sincerely,

  JOHN RIDDELL.




APPENDIX XII.

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE BLANDY CASE.

(Compiled by Mr. Horace Bleackley.)


I. CONTEMPORARY TRACTS.

1. _An Authentic Narrative of that most Horrid Parricide_. (Printed in
the year 1751. Name of publisher in second edition, M. Cooper.)

2. _A Genuine and full Account of the Parricide_ committed by Mary
Blandy. Oxford: Printed for and sold by C. Goddard in the High St.,
and sold by R. Walker in the little Old Bailey, and by all booksellers
and pamphlet Shops. (Published November 9, 1751.)

3. _A Letter from a Clergyman to Miss Mary Blandy with her answer
thereto_. ... As also Miss Blandy's Own Narrative. London; Printed for
M. Cooper at the Globe in Paternoster Row. 1752. Price Six-pence.
Brit. Mus. (March 20, 1752.)

4. _An Answer to Miss Blandy's Narrative_. London; Printed for W.
Owen, near Temple Bar. 1752. Price 3d. Brit. Mus. (March 27, 1752.)

5. _The Case of Miss Blandy considered_ as a Daughter, as a
Gentlewoman, and as a Christian. Oxford; Printed for R. Baldwin, at
the Rose in Paternoster Row. Brit. Mus. (April 6, 1752.)

6. _Original Letters to and from Miss Blandy and C---- C----_, London.
Printed for S. Johnson, near the Haymarket, Charing Cross. 1752. Brit.
Mus. (April 8, 1752.)

7. _A Genuine and impartial Account of the Life of Miss M. Blandy_. W.
Jackson and R. Walker. (April 9, 1752.)

8. _Miss Mary Blandy's Own Account_. London: Printed for A. Millar in
the Strand. 1752 (price one shilling and sixpence). N.B. The Original
Account authenticated by Miss Blandy in a proper manner may be seen at
the above A. Millar's. Brit. Mus. (April 10, 1752. The most famous
apologia in criminal literature.)

9. _A Candid Appeal to the Public, by a Gentleman of Oxford_. London.
Printed for J. Clifford in the Old Bailey, and sold at the Pamphleteer
Shops. 1752. Price 6d. Brit. Mus. (April 15, 1752.)

10. _The Tryal of Mary Blandy_. Published by Permission of the Judges.
London: Printed for John and James Rivington at the Bible and Crown
and in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1752. In folio price two shillings. 8vo.
one shilling. Brit. Mus. (April 24, 1752.)

11. _The Genuine Histories_ of the Life and Transactions of John Swan
and Eliz Jeffries, ... and Miss Mary Blandy. London: Printed and sold
by T. Bailey opposite the Pewter-Pot-Inn in Leadenhall Street.
(Published after April 10, 1752.)

12. _An Authentic and full History of all the Circumstances of the
Cruel Poisoning of Mr. Francis Blandy_, printed only for Mr. Wm. Owen,
Bookseller at Temple Bar, London, and R. Goadby in Sherborne. Brit.
Mus. (Without date. From pp. 113-132 the pamphlet resembles the
"Answer to Miss Blandy's Narrative," published also by Wm. Owen.)

13. _The Authentic Trials of John Swan and Elizabeth Jeffryes_....
With the Tryal of Miss Mary Blandy. London: Printed by R. Walker for
W. Richards, near the East Gate, Oxford. 1752. Brit. Mus. (Published
later than the "Candid Appeal.")

14. _The Fair Parricide_. A Tragedy in three Acts. Founded on a late
melancholy event. London. Printed for T. Waller, opposite Fetter Lane.
Fleet Street (price 1/-). Brit. Mus. (May 5, 1752.)

15. _The Genuine Speech of the Hon Mr. ----_, at the late trial of
Miss Blandy. London: Printed for J. Roberts in Warwick Lane. 1752.
(Price sixpence.) Brit. Mus. (May 15, 1752.)

16. _The x x x x Packet Broke open_, or a letter from Miss Blandy in
the Shades below to Capt. Cranstoun in his exile above. London.
Printed for M. Cooper at the Globe in Paternoster Row. 1752. Price 6d.
Brit. Mus. (May 16, 1752.)

17. _The Secret History of Miss Blandy_. London. Printed for Henry
Williams, and sold by the booksellers at the Exchange, in Ludgate St.,
at Charing Cross, and St. James. Price 1s. 6d. Brit. Mus. (June 11,
1752. A sane and well-written account of the whole story.)

18. _Memories of the Life of Wm. Henry Cranstoun, Esqre_. London.
Printed for J. Bouquet, at the White Hart, in Paternoster Row. 1752.
Price one shilling. Brit. Mus. (June 18, 1752.)

19. _The Genuine Lives of Capt. Cranstoun and Miss Mary Blandy_.
London. Printed for M. Cooper, Paternoster Row, and C. Sympson at the
Bible Warehouse, Chancery Lane. 1753. Price one shilling. Brit. Mus.

20. _Capt. Cranstoun's Account of the Poisoning of the Late Mr.
Francis Blandy_. London: Printed for R. Richards, the Corner of
Bernard's-Inn, near the Black Swan, Holborn. Brit. Mus. (March 1-3,
1753.)

21. _Memories of the life and most remarkable transactions of Capt.
William Henry Cranstoun_. Containing an account of his conduct in his
younger years. His letter to his wife to persuade her to disown him as
her husband. His trial in Scotland, and the Court's decree thereto.
His courtship of Miss Blandy; his success therein, and the tragical
issue of that affair. His voluntary exile abroad with the several
accidents that befel him from his flight to his death. His
reconciliation to the Church of Rome, with the Conversation he had
with a Rev. Father of the Church at the time of his conversion. His
miserable death, and pompous funeral. Printed for M. Cooper in
Paternoster Row; W. Reeve in Fleet Street; and C. Sympson in Chancery
Lane. Price 6d. With a curious print of Capt. Cranstoun. Brit. Mus.
(March 10-13, 1753. As the title-page of this pamphlet is torn out of
the copy in the Brit. Mus., it is given in full. From pp. 3-21 the
tract is identical with "The Genuine Lives," also published by M.
Cooper.)

22. _Parricides!_ The trial of Philip Stansfield, Gt., for the murder
of his father in Scotland, 1688. Also the trial of Miss Mary Blandy,
for the murder of her Father, at Oxford, 1752. London (1810). Printed
by J. Dean, 57 Wardour St., Soho for T. Brown, 154 Drury Lane and W.
Evans, 14 Market St., St. James's. Brit. Mus.

23. _The Female Parricide_, or the History of Mary-Margaret d'Aubray,
Marchioness of Brinvillier.... In which a parallel is drawn between
the Marchioness and Miss Blandy. C. Micklewright, Reading. Sold by J.
Newbery. Price 1/-. (March 5, 1752.)

Lowndes mentions also:--

24. _An Impartial Inquiry into the Case of Miss Blandy_. With
reflections on her Trial, Defence, Bepentance, Denial, Death. 1753.
8vo.

25. _The Female Parricide_. A Tragedy, by Edward Crane, of Manchester.
1761. 8vo.

26. _A Letter from a Gentleman to Miss Blandy_ with her answer
thereto. 1752. 8vo. (Possibly the same as "A Letter from a
Clergyman.")

The two following are advertised in the newspapers of the day:--

27. _Case of Miss Blandy and Miss Jeffries_ fairly stated, and
compared.... R. Robinson, Golden Lion, Ludgate Street. (March 26,
1752.)

28. _Genuine Letters between Miss Blandy and Miss Jeffries_ before and
after their Conviction. J. Scott, Exchange Alley; W. Owen, Temple Bar;
G. Woodfall, Charing Cross. (April 21, 1752.)

29. Broadside. _Execution of Miss Blandy_. Pitts, Printer, Toy and
Marble Warehouse, 6 Great St. Andrew's St., Seven Dials. Brit. Mus.

30. _The Addl. MSS._, 15930. Manuscript Department in the Brit. Mus.


II. CONTEMPORARY NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES.

1. _Read's Weekly Journal_, March and April (1752), February 3 (1753).

2. _The General Advertiser_, August-November (1751), March and April
(1752).

3. _The London Evening Post_, March and April (1752).

4. _The Covent Garden Journal_ (Sir Alexander Drawcansir), February,
March, and April (1752).

5. _The London Morning Penny Post_, August and September (1751).

6. _Gentleman's Magazine_, pp. 396, 486-88 (1751), pp. 108-17, 152,
188, 195 (1752), pp. 47, 151 (1753), p. 803, pt. II (1783).

7. _Universal Magazine_, pp 114-124, 187, 281 (1752).

8. _London Magazine_, pp. 379, 475, 512 (1751), pp. 127, 180, 189
(1752), p. 89 (1753).

[In addition to the two London editions of the authorised report of
the trial specified in No. 10 of the Bibliography, it may be noted
that the trial was reprinted at length in the same year at Dublin, and
in an abridged form at London and Edinburgh, all 8vo.--ED.]

[Illustration: The Scotch Triumvirate
(_From a satirical Print in the Collection of Mr. Horace Bleackley_.)]




APPENDIX XIII.

DESCRIPTION OF SATIRICAL PRINT, "THE SCOTCH TRIUMVIRATE."

(From Catalogue of Prints and Drawings in the British Museum, Vol.
III., Part ii., p. 847.)


"THE SCOTCH TRIUMVIRATE."

Sr ***g sc. (? Strange, W.) Ram**y Pix'd.* [1752].

*These signatures were, doubtless, used with a satirical intention.

This engraving displays a stage, as if erected for an execution. The
above title is inscribed on a gallows, under which is James Lowry,
with a rope about his neck, and in one hand a cudgel, inscribed "The
Royal Oke Fore Mast," see below; a label in his mouth is inscribed,
"_Lowry; the Laird of the Land; Sung by Sr. W----m. Lawther._" At his
feet rises the ghost of Hossack, saying, "_You suffered justly, for
Wipping me to Death. K. Hossack._"

At one side stands Mr. William Henry Cranstoun, with a rope round his
neck, and crossing his body like a riband of knighthood; in his pocket
is "_Powder to Clean Pebbels_" in his mouth a label, "_Jammy will save
me._" Before him rises the ghost of Miss Mary Blandy, saying, "My
Honour, Cra----s ruin'd me." The ghost of her mother rising at the
side of the platform, and wringing her hands in pain, replies, "Child
he's Married!" At Cranstoun's feet is an advertisement of "_Scotch
Powder to cure the Itch._"

At the other side is Major James Macdonald, with a halter round his
neck & crossing his body, as above; in his hand is a paper inscribed
"_S. Sea Anuities D-am my School Master._" In his mouth is a label,
bearing, "_I have Escaped Hanging I own I'm a Highland Villain._"

In front is what is intended for a mock shield of Scotland. The shield
is perforated with holes for eyes and a mouth so as to represent a
mask, and it is charged with a crowned thistle; the supporters are an
ass's head, plaided and wearing a Scotch bonnet, and a peacock. Motto,
"_Impudent, Rebellious, Lazy and Proud._"

Beneath is engraved:--

  "Proud Scot, Beggarly Scot, witness keen,
  Old England has made you all Gentlemen."

James Lowry, who had commanded the "Molly" merchantman, was tried
February 18, 1752, for the murder of Kenrich Hossack, by whipping him
to death; after a trial of eight hours he was found guilty. "The Royal
Oak Foremast" was the name he gave to a stick used in his manner of
enforcing naval discipline. On the 25th of March he was hanged at
Execution Dock, and his body was hung in chains at Blackball. Other
acts of cruelty involving the deaths of the victims were charged on
him. (See _The Gentleman's Magazine_, 1751, p. 234; 1752, pp. 89, 94,
140.)

The exclamation of Miss Blandy referring to Cranstoun is nearly the
same as that uttered by the speaker, as deposed by Mrs. Lane, a
witness at the trial, when she was arrested during a wandering flight
between the death of her father and the returning of the verdict of
"Wilfull Murder." The witness declared Miss Blandy said "The damned
villain, Cranstoun!--my honour to him will be my ruin," etc. The
exclamation of the ghost of Mrs. Blandy refers to the fact that
Cranstoun had been married in 1745, according to the Scotch process,
to Anne, daughter of Sir David Murray, whom he repudiated two years
after. Cranstoun was brother of James, afterwards sixth Lord
Cranstoun, probably the "Jammy" refered to in his speech as above
quoted.




Footnotes:


[1] Henry Bathurst (1714-1794), Solicitor-General to the Prince of
Wales, 1745; Judge of the Court of Common Pleas, 1751; Lord
Chancellor, 1771; succeeded his father as Earl Bathurst, 1775; and in
the following year presided as Lord High Steward at the trial of the
Duchess of Kingston. He resigned the Seal in 1778.--ED.

[2] This quotation is the only reference made during the trial to this
important letter, which, from the report, does not appear to have been
formally "put in." See Introduction.--ED.

[3] So far as appears from the report of the trial, no proof was
offered that these words were in the handwriting of Cranstoun. See
Introduction.--ED.

[4] The Earl of Macclesfield and Lord Cadogan, the local magistrates
who undertook the preliminary work of getting up the case for the
prosecution.--ED.

[5] Afterwards Sir Richard Aston, and one of the Commissioners of the
Great Seal on the death of Lord Chancellor Yorke in 1770.--ED.

[6] Born, 1713; died, 1790. Practised as a physician at Reading until
1754, when he removed to London. Chatham was one of his patients. As a
specialist in mental diseases he was called in to attend George III.
in 1788. He was the father of Henry Addington, first Viscount
Sidmouth.--ED.

[7] The doctor intended to have excepted the stone found in Mr.
Blandy's gall-bladder.--_Original Note_.

[8] Born, 1714; died, 1781. Practised in London till 1745, when he
removed to Kingston-on-Thames. He was eminent for his writings on the
Pharmacopoaeia.--ED.

[9] Saturday. See _infra_.--ED.

[10] This lady was Mary Blandy's godmother. She died in 1781 at the
age of 86. It is remarkable that the prisoner's fortitude remained
unshaken throughout the trial except when Mrs. Mounteney was in the
box.--ED.

[11] The counsel for the prisoner waived the objection to this as
hearsay evidence, because the counsel for the Crown assured them they
would call Betty Binfield herself next.--_Original Note_.

[12] According to the practice then in use, counsel for the defence
were not permitted to address the jury.--ED.

[13] Heneage Legge (1703-1759), second son of William, first Earl of
Dartmouth, was called to the Bar, 1728, took silk in 1739, and was
appointed one of the Barons of Exchequer in 1747.--ED.

[14] The celebrated Catherine Hayes, heroine of the _Newgate Calendar_
and Thackeray's _Catherine_.--ED.

[15] George Carre of Nisbet, son of John Carre of Cavers, admitted
Advocate 9th June, 1752. He became Sheriff of Berwick in 1748, and
wasraised to the Bench as Lord Nisbet, 31st July, 1755. He died at
Edinburgh, 21st February, 1760.--ED.

[16] Charles Erskine, Lord Tinwald.--ED.

[17] George Parker, second Earl of Macclesfield, son of Lord
Chancellor Macclesfield, was a famous philosopher and President of
the Royal Society. He had the principal share in preparing the Act of
Parliament for the introduction of the change in the Calendar in 1751,
known as the "New Style."--ED.

[18] Charles, second Baron Cadogan of Oakley, died 1776. His wife was
a daughter of Sir Hans Sloane.--ED.

[19] William, eighth Earl of Home, first cousin of the Hon. William
Henry Cranstoun, died 1761. Their mothers were Lady Anne and Lady Jean
Kerr, daughters of the second Marquess of Lothian, and their daughter
Lady Mary married Alexander Hamilton of Ballincrieff.--ED.

[20] Afterwards fourth Marquess of Lothian, first cousin of the Hon.
William Henry Cranstoun. He died in 1775.--ED.

[21] Probably the Rev. William Stockwood, Rector of Henley.--ED.

[22] Winchester.

[23] Son of Robert, first Marquis of Lothian and grand-uncle of the
Hon. Wm. Henry Cranstoun. Born, 1676. He followed a career of arms,
and died unmarried 2nd February, 1752. His natural son, Captain John
Kerr, courted his "cousin," Lady Jane Douglas of the "Douglas Cause,"
and was killed in 1725 by her brother Archibald, Duke of Douglas. Lord
Mark was not friendly with his niece, Lady Jane.--ED.

[24] George, 21st Earl of Crauford, born 1729. Succeeded to that
title, 1749; died 1781.--ED.

[25] William, fifth Lord Cranstoun, married, 1703, Lady Jean Kerr, and
died in January 7, 1726-7.--ED.

[26] _Née_ Lady Jean Kerr, died March, 1768.--ED.

[27] The Hon. Anne Cranstoun married Gabriel Selby of Paston,
Northumberland, died 1769.--ED.

[28] Mr. C.J.S. Thompson, in his _Mystery and Romance of Alchemy and
Pharmacy_, remarks, "About the sixteenth century philtres came to be
compounded and sold by the apothecaries, who doubtless derived from
them a lucrative profit. Favourite ingredients with these later
practitioners were mandragora, cantharides, and vervain, which were
supposed to have Satanic properties. They were mixed with other herbs
said to have an aphrodisiac effect; also man's gall, the eyes of a
black cat, and the blood of a lapwing, bat, or goat." The same
authority states that in the seventeenth century "Hoffman's Water of
Magnanimity," compounded of winged ants, was a popular specific.--ED.

[29] Appendix III.

[30] Frederick, Prince of Wales, died 20th March, 1751.--ED.

[31] Ross.

[32] Plaistow.

[33] This denial is the more odd as the Murrays of Stanhope and the
Kerrs of Lothian (Captain Cranstoun's maternal relatives) had already
a marriage tie. Lord Charles Kerr of Cramond (died 1735), had married
Janet, eldest daughter of Sir David Murray of Stanhope, and her
daughter Jean Janet, born 1712, was the second wife of William, third
Marquess of Lothian, Captain Cranstoun's uncle.--ED.

[34] Later, Lord Corehouse, one of the Senators of the College of
Justice.--ED.



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