The two men appeared at the Warwick Assizes on Wednesday, 8 April 1829. John Williams, aged twenty-one, was described as being ‘a young man of very respectable appearance’. When asked to give his defence, Williams declared, ‘I have nothing particular to say, my Lord, I throw myself entirely upon your mercy.’ William Roberts, on the other hand, seems to have been considered an innocent bystander. He claimed that he had only been hired as a servant to ride one of the horses to Chippenham and that he was paid to do so. Roberts also said that he didn’t know anything about the horses being stolen. In fact, even though he had been arrested in Chippenham, initially he had then been released and it was only Constable Bellerby who decided to charge him and bring him back to Warwick for trial.
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‘she heard the rattle of his handcuff’
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Mr Earp, who was described in court as ‘a large farmer at Newbold, Leicestershire’, was called as a character witness for John Williams. He said that Williams lived less than two miles away from him and had ‘always borne a most respectable character’. Mr Hackett of Barrow Hill Lodge in Leicestershire was also called forward as a character witness, and stated that Williams had lived in Barrow all his life ‘and there was not a more respectable man in the parish’. Leamington Spa Courier wrote that Williams ‘was visibly affected whilst Mr Hackett was bearing testimony to his good character, and with great difficulty suppressed his emotion from evincing itself in tears.’
When asked if he had any witnesses, William Roberts was unable to produce any, and it was at this point that Williams stepped forward and said, ‘I can bear testimony to his innocence; he was hired by me as a servant and knew nothing about the horses being stolen.’
The prosecutor, Mr Denman, summed up, saying if Roberts was only acting as a servant he should be acquitted, but by Williams giving his statement on Roberts’ innocence he was actually admitting to his own guilt.
The jury found Williams guilty of horse stealing and Roberts not guilty, but they ‘strongly recommended the former to mercy on account of his good character’. Nevertheless, the judge sentenced him to death. However, the sentence of death was later commuted to transportation for life and Williams set sail for New South Wales with 200 other convicts on 5 August 1829, aboard the ship Morley. On arrival in Australia he was handed over to a Mr Brown of Bathurst to commence his sentence.
Sarah Sidwell kept a lodging house in Monk Street in Warwick and often had returning guests. Among these were three young Italian musicians in their early twenties – Nicola Varella, Conrad Deitz and Conrad Zaisz – and an Irish family by the name of Hands. Sarah kept an orderly establishment but in November 1837 this was not the case.
On the afternoon of 5 November, Jeremiah Bush, another visitor at the house, went into the main room, where the three Italians and the Hands family were already sitting. One of the Italians was boiling some coffee on the open fire and had let it boil over two or three times. The Hands children were playing by the fire at the time so their father Michael had asked that the coffee be taken off the fire in case it scolded the children.
The Hands family were described as a peaceful, religious family. Michael was a mendicant, a member of a religious order who lived off the charity of others either by work or by begging, and they followed what they considered a pure way of life, by not owning possessions and copying the wandering lifestyle of Jesus. Perhaps the fiery Italians found this difficult to understand, as there seemed to be friction between these two sets of lodgers.
The Monk Street area, now redeveloped.
Later that evening, the Italians returned from the local public house with another man, who they referred to as Gardner. The group sat on the benches placed around the fire – there were three benches; one in front of the fire and two either side, facing each other – and by the time the Hands family came in, the Italians and their friend had spread themselves over all three benches. Michael asked if they would let his wife and children get closer to the fire to warm themselves; ‘Why don’t you get up and let her warm the child,’ he said, but no one answered and so Michael forced his way around them. Deitz then said that they had got just as much right to the fire as him but Michael replied that it was more fitting for a boy to stand up than a woman with a young baby in her arms. The three Italians now started shouting at Michael in their own language and used what was described as ‘menacing gestures’.
Despite their so-called cordial way of life, the other people who were in the room at the time said that Mrs Hands, who they also said was rather tipsy, ‘used an improper word’ to Conrad Deitz and began ‘to jaw him’. The other two Italians then got up off their seats and moved towards her. At the same time, Deitz touched Mrs Hands on her nose and she said ‘if he did that again she would strike him.’ He then touched her a second time but it was Michael who retaliated and struck out at Deitz with his fist. Witnesses said that a ‘great confusion took place, and there was great talking on both sides’.
Michael Hands told the Italians to talk in a language he could understand and one of them was heard to reply, ‘Me vil tell you in English, me vil put you on de fire and put you to death you an English b___r’, to which Michael answered that he might have been only a little man himself but he, the Italian, was not big enough to do it.
Jeremiah Bush described what happened next:
A regular row then ensued. I saw Hands then forced backwards over the bench by two of the Italians, and when down Varella struck him with his right hand on which Hands, while still on the ground, struck Varella on the right side of the head with a poker. I saw no other blow struck by any of the men at this time. The bench, on which Hands was sitting, fell with him; Zaisz rose one of the benches as if to strike someone but put it down again without doing so. About this time there was a cry of murder on which two persons named Ledbrooke and Harris came in and interfered; Ledbrook pushed Hands one way, and one of the Italians, can’t say which, was shoved the other. Zeisz and Deitz then went out of the back door into the yard. Varella went into the front kitchen. Hands went and stood with his back to the fire.
Jeremiah went on to say how the peace did not last for long, and that after a while Zeitz came back into the room with a knife in his hand and rushed at Hands, who fended him off. Zeisz turned round and went back out to the yard, and Varella then reappeared and followed him out. Continuing his statement, Jeremiah told of how;
There was a bucket with some water in it stood at the back door. I saw Verella go and put his hand into it; then raise his hand to his head and remove it from thence to his breast. I then saw him go quickly to the fireplace where Michael Hands stood and make a stab at his left breast, but Michael warded the blow off by raising his arm. Verella then put one of his hands on Michael’s shoulder and with the other stabbed him in the bowels. Verella instantly turned round and went into the front kitchen. Hands put both his hands to his bowels and cried out, ‘I am a murdered man’. I followed Verella into the front kitchen, but he was gone.
By now the police had been called and the local constable, Mr Neale, arrived. Jeremiah told him that Varella had stabbed Hands, before he accompanied Neale in searching for him. Varella was found in nearby Hampton Street, by the racecourse.
Michael Hand died seven days later and Varella was charged with murder. By this point, Deitz and Zaisz had left Warwick and so a search was made for them. They were found in Hereford, where they were arrested and brought back to Warwick to face trial alongside Varella at the assizes on 23 March 1838.
Hampton Street, with the racecourse on the right.
The trail lasted six hours as it could not be decided if this was a case of murder or manslaughter. Eventually the judge decided that only a charge of manslaughter could be given and Varella was found guilty – Deitz and Zaisz were found not guilty. The judge remarked that it was ‘a most aggravated case of manslaughter’, and that ‘it was not permitted that persons should revenge themselves for any insult offered to them in such a dangerous and w
icked manner, and after taking all the circumstances of the case into consideration, felt himself bound to pass the utmost sentence of the law upon the prisoner’ – Varella was transported for life.
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‘I am a murdered man’
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He sailed aboard convict ship the Coromandel with 350 other prisoners to Van Dieman’s Land (Tasmania) on 25 June 1838; the convict register describes him as a harpist aged twenty years and of about 5ft 5in in height with black hair and dark brown eyes.
Just over ten years later, on 29 January 1849, Varella was given a pardon on the condition that he never returned to England. Whether he stayed in Australia or returned to his native country is not known, but a Nicola Varella does appear in American records at various times during the mid-1800s.
On the night of Thursday, 19 February 1846, Police Constable Charles Collier saw a group of men he recognised, who were already quite intoxicated, going into the Queen’s Head public house. Later, one of these men, Edward Wallsgrove, came out alone. He was now very drunk and, after staggering a short distance up the street he slumped down on the pavement. Collier went up to him and ordered him to go home but Wallsgrove said he wouldn’t; ‘Take me to the hole,’ he said. Collier replied saying that he had nothing to take him there for. Wallsgrove thought for a minute then said, ‘____ your eyes; if you haven’t, you very soon shall, for I mean to do something to get transported for seven years.’
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Henry Eyres Landor was described as being ‘well-known amongst the county families, with several of whom, from his long and honourable practise at Warwick, he is intimately connected’. Henry lived at Savages House in Bishop’s Tachbrook, a small village on the outskirts of Warwick. He was a solicitor and land agent practising in St Nicholas’ parish of Warwick and throughout the 1830s and ’40s his name often appeared in local newspapers as the contact for when property and land were to be sold or auctioned. His older brother was Walter Savage Landor, a well-known poet at the time, and the family home had originally been in Smith Street, Warwick, near to the town’s East Gate. That property, known as Landor House, eventually became home to the King’s High School for Girls.
On 19 February 1846, Landor hung his watch up at ten minutes past twelve and was in bed at half-past twelve, fast asleep. He then heard what he later described as ‘some extraordinary noise that awoke me. I guessed that was between one and two o’clock.’ He got up and listened, before he began to dress himself in order to go and investigate.
All the windows in the house were barred, except one. In this room, above the kitchen, two of his servants were asleep – Thomas Cleaver, a live-in servant, and John Morley, an outdoor servant who normally went home at night. But on this occasion Morley’s wife was confined and with the nurse at his home, there was not enough room and so he had stayed the night in Cleaver’s room.
The old lane leading to Savages House.
Landor House (right) in the early 1900s.
They were woken suddenly in the middle of the night by the sound of breaking glass and to their surprise three masked men climbed in through the window, who immediately pounced on the two servants. Cleaver managed to get away and run down to the dining room, where a window opened out into the garden. His intention was to get out and raise the alarm but he spotted another man ‘standing sentinel armed with a bludgeon’ and went back upstairs to warn his employer, shouting, ‘The house is full of thieves!’ He then went back to the kitchen and hid in the chimney.
Morley was forced from room to room as he tried to fend off the three men. Eventually he was struck on the forehead and overpowered, and as he lay on the floor he saw Henry Landor coming from his room. Landor, armed with a blunderbuss, was quickly spotted by the robbers. One said, ‘Now old fellow, we’ve found you have we?’ and forced Landor to the ground and struggled to get the blunderbuss off him. At first Landor tried to hold on to it, but he then saw something which looked like a crowbar over his head and heard someone shout ‘Kill him!’ so he let go of the gun.
At this point, one of the men shouted, ‘Your money or your life!’
‘Well you are masters now,’ said Landor. ‘Let me get up and I will give it you.’
Henry and his servant were taken into the master bedroom where Henry handed over his purse containing three sovereigns, six half-sovereigns and some silver. The men took the purse and seemed disappointed that there wasn’t more in it. They then made Landor and Morley, who was now bleeding quite heavily from the wound on his head, get on the bed while they broke open a small cabinet at the side of the bed. Henry said he would unlock it for them but they seemed intent on doing damage as well as burglary. In the cabinet they found three watches; one was of silver gilt which had belonged to Henry’s father and was stamped with the maker’s name of Reynolds of Warwick; another was a gold watch, which was said to date back to Queen Anne’s reign, and the third was a gold single-cased lady’s watch with the maker’s name of Barwise, St Martin’s Lane, London. It was attached to a large gold link chain with two seals, one of which was engraved with Shakespeare’s head, while the other was engraved with the Landor’s crest – a hand supporting a fleur-de-lis. Henry pleaded with the robbers not to take it as it had belonged to his grandmother – ‘I’ll take it if it was your grandfather’s,’ one of them said. (The watch had actually belonged to his sister but Henry later admitted that he had been confused at the time.)
* * *
‘Your money or your life!’
* * *
The robbers then left Henry Landor and John Morley on the bed and went downstairs. Henry asked Morley if he could hang on for a minute – ‘I have another blunderbuss; I’ll settle this business’. But Morley was too frightened. ‘The house is full; they will murder us,’ he said, so they stayed where they were and listened to the commotion downstairs.
The robbers first broke open an iron safe which mainly contained plates, but they also found a small pocketbook in there, the contents of which consisted of ‘bankers accountable bills upon Messrs. Taylor and Lloyd of Birmingham Old Bank for between six and seven thousand pounds’. The robbers knew that these bonds could only be surrendered by Landor himself and thus left them in the safe. Later, Landor noticed that they had removed some of the plates from the safe.
They continued their search of the house while Landor and Morley waited upstairs. They broke open other cabinets – one of which was said to have belonged to King Charles – in both the dining room and the drawing room, before they searched Henry’s writing desk in a vain attempt to find jewellery or cash, but nothing more was found.
The robbers took about half an hour and all the time they were calling out to the man outside asking if he had found the missing servant, who was, unknown to them, still hiding in the chimney. They were worried he had escaped and raised the alarm, and so, satisfied there was no more money to be found, they made their escape out of the back of the house and into the garden. They then went out towards Oakley Wood, leaving behind a lot of damage; one newspaper report said that one of the cabinets had been ‘greatly injured by being broken open’.
When all seemed quiet, Landor and Morley ventured downstairs at the same time that Cleaver was coming out from his hiding place in the kitchen chimney. The two female servants, who had been hiding in their room, also came out. The police were sent for and when they arrived, at about five in the morning, they inspected the garden and found that the robbers had left numerous footprints and the ladder still up at the window.
Later that morning, Police Constable Collier heard about the burglary, and, remembering his conversation with Wallsgrove the previous night, voiced his suspicions to his superiors. However, it wasn’t until later in the afternoon that the Police Superintendent issued instructions for the arrest of Edward Wallsgrove and his friends, George Hart, James Cairn and William Overton.
Wallsgrove was captured first and news of the other imminent arrests soon spread. When Police Constable Samuel Ingram went to arrest
George Hart he said, ‘Hello George, I want you,’ to which George replied, ‘I know that; we have just been talking about it.’ When asked if he knew what for, Hart answered, ‘Oh yes, but I was home at eleven o’clock or a few minutes past.’
In the meantime Henry Landor had placed a notice in the Leamington Spa Courier offering a twenty-guinea reward for the return of the stolen items and the apprehension of the offenders. Another thirty-guinea reward was offered by the Wellesbourne Association for the Prosecution of Felons: ‘The above reward will be paid to any party giving such information as will lead to the conviction of his accomplices, and every endeavour made to obtain Her Majesty’s free pardon.’
The arrested men were brought before the magistrates on Friday 27 February. Leamington Spa Courier reported that, ‘The court was a private one and (we) are therefore prevented from giving anything else than the result’. The prisoners were to be remanded until the following Wednesday; however, it was reported that Morley, ‘who was brutally ill-treated on the night of the robbery, still remains in too dangerous a state to undergo an examination before the Bench’. Morley had recovered sufficiently by the next Wednesday and was in attendance for that day’s examinations. The men were finally charged with the robbery and sent to trial at the next assizes.
Warwick Page 3
