Newgate Gaol, where Richard Savage, James Gregory and William Merchant were imprisoned. Author’s collection
In his summing up Sir Francis Page said:
Gentlemen of the jury, you are to consider that Mr. Savage is a very great man, a much greater man than you or I, gentlemen of the jury; that he wears very fine clothes, much finer clothes than you or I, gentlemen of the jury; that he has abundance of money in his pocket, much more money than you or I, gentlemen of the jury; but, gentlemen of the jury, is it not a very hard case, gentlemen of the jury, that Mr. Savage should therefore kill you or me, gentlemen of the jury?
The jury found Savage and Gregory guilty of murder, and Merchant, who had been unarmed, guilty of manslaughter. When Savage and Gregory were brought into court for sentencing, Savage, on being given an opportunity to address the court made a plea for clemency:
It is now, my Lord, too late to offer any thing by way of defence or vindication, nor can we expect from your Lordships, in this court, but the sentence which the law requires you, as judges to pronounce against men of our calamitous condition. – But we are also persuaded that as mere men, and out of this seat of rigorous justice, you are susceptive of the tender passions, and too humane, not to commiserate the unhappy situation of those whom the law sometimes perhaps – exacts from you to pronounce upon. No doubt you distinguish between offences which arise out of premeditation and a disposition habituated to vice or immorality and transgressions, which are the happy and unforeseen effects of [a] casual absence of reason, and sudden impulse of passion; we therefore hope you will contribute all you can to an extension of that mercy, which the gentlemen of the jury have been pleased to shew. Mr. Merchant, who (allowing facts as sworn against us by the evidence) has led us into this our calamity. I hope this will not be construed as if we meant to reflect upon that gentleman, or remove any thing from us upon him, or that we repine the more at our fate, because he has no participation of it. No, my Lord! For my part, I declare nothing could more soften my grief than to be without any companion in so great a misfortune.
Savage’s plea did nothing to soften the sentence as both he and Gregory were sentenced to die.
In Newgate, as Savage awaited his execution, loaded with chains weighing fifty pounds, he wrote two letters, one to his mother, begging her to visit him, the other to his friend, the actor Robert Wilks, oddly enough one of Savage’s mother’s many ‘admirers’. His letter to Wilks ended:
… As to death, I am easy and dare meet it like a man. All that touches me is the concern of my friends and a reconciliation with my mother. I cannot express the agony I felt when I wrote that letter to her. If you can find any decent excuse for showing it to Mrs Oldfield [Anne Oldfield 1683–1730, the celebrated actress, who had rendered financial help to Savage, partly because of her admiration for him and partly because he had been left nothing in his father’s will, whereas Savage’s father, Earl Rivers, an admirer, had left her £500], do, for I would have my friends and that admirable lady in particular, be satisfied I have done my duty …
Far from showing any kind of sympathy towards her son, the former Countess Rivers, now Mrs Brett, seemed to see her son’s plight as a means of getting rid of him once and for all. She even went so far as to protest against mercy being shown. Fortunately for Savage, Mrs Oldfield was made of sterner stuff. Her many admirers at Court and in the higher echelons of society meant that many doors were open to her. She secured an interview with Sir Robert Walpole, First Lord of the Treasury. She spoke of Savage’s many attributes, his talent, his unfair trial, the lack of premeditation and at the end of the interview, Sir Robert promised to do his best. Mrs Oldfield secured the help of Lady Hertford, patroness of literature, who used her influence also. Savage was released with a free pardon, after he had already ordered a suit of clothes for the scaffold. The pardon for both Savage and Gregory was ordered on 6 January 1728 and both were released on bail on 20 January. The pardon passed the seals on 1 February, thereafter Savage and Gregory could not plead His Majesty’s pardon in court until the last day of the following sessions during the first week in March, when their bail was discharged. William Merchant, although convicted of manslaughter, claimed benefit of clergy and got off with a branding in the thumb.
CHAPTER 7
Killed in a Tiff Over a Wig 1735
… it entered the right eye of his opponent, penetrated the brain, and caused his death the next day.
The Irish-born actor Charles Macklin (whose real name was M’Laughlin), was descended from Terence M’Laughlin, a landowner of County Down, whose son, William, married the daughter of John O’Flanagan, who owned large estates in Westmeath. The M’Laughlins considered themselves to be descendents of the ancient kings of Ireland. William M’Laughlin commanded a troop of horse in the army of James II, and was greatly distinguished for his valour, loyalty and zeal. He had one daughter, Mary, and one son, Charles. One of Charles Macklin’s biographers, James Thomas Kirkman, wrote in 1779 that Macklin was born two months before the Battle of the Boyne, which took place on 1 July 1690.
In 1716 he joined a company of strolling players. Four years later he appeared in Bath and was engaged by Christopher Rich for the Lincoln’s Inn Theatre. He was known as the Wild Irishman, noted for his joviality and excellent boxing skills. In 1732 he was engaged at Drury Lane, where he played secondary comic parts. Before he rose to greater heights, this hot blooded and intemperate actor in May 1735 quarrelled with his fellow actor Thomas Hallam over a wig, in the scene-room at Drury Lane, where the actors used to warm themselves and this resulted in Hallam’s death. Macklin was fortunate not have been hanged for murder. Frances Asprey Congreve describes the event:
Mr Macklin had not long been settled as an actor at Drury-Lane, when an incident occurred which had nearly been attended with fatal consequences to him, and which certainly impressed an unfavourable opinion of him in the minds of the public during the rest of his days. On the 10th of May, 1735, a new farce was to be performed, called Trick for Trick, written by Mr. Fabian, in which Mr. Macklin and Mr. Hallam both performed. In attiring for their respective characters, the latter gentleman had got possession of a wig belonging to the house, and which Mr. Macklin having performed in the preceding evening, he demanded the restoration of; with the demand, Hallam did not readily comply, and much foul language was exchanged by both parties. At length, Macklin, irritated at Hallam’s non-compliance, and inflamed by the scurrility which passed between them, drove at him with a stick which he had in his hand, without any aim it is supposed, but unhappily with too fatal effect, as it entered the right eye of his opponent, penetrated the brain, and caused his death the next day.
The Piazza, Covent Garden. St Paul’s Church dominates the centre background. Author’s collection
Further notes from F A Congreve’s account state that following the tragic event:
Mr. Macklin immediately absconded, and did not take his trial until the 12th of December, when he surrendered himself at the Old Bailey, where he was found guilty of manslaughter. It appeared by the evidence to be the result of a hasty fit of passion, unpremeditated and repented as soon as done. On this occasion, Mr. Rich, Mr. Fleetwood, Mr. Quin, Mr. Ryan, Mr. Thomson, Mr. Mills, and several others, appeared as candidates for his character, and testified him to be a man of quiet and peaceable disposition. It was not, however, until the 31st January, 1736, that he returned to his station at the theatre, by the performance of Ramillie, in Fielding’s Miser.
At his trial at the Old Bailey, many of the most renowned actors of the day showed their support for their fellow player. He got off lightly, with a manslaughter verdict and was sentenced to be burned in the hand. Fortunately for himself, following this tragedy, Macklin’s career went from strength to strength. On 14 February 1741, he made his first appearance as Shylock in The Merchant of Venice and became famous overnight by re-establishing the character as a dignified and tragic role instead of playing it as a comic role, to which the character had been assigned
since the Restoration. He also played the characters of Iago and Macbeth to great acclaim.
Theatre Royal Drury Lane. The frontage of the theatre was designed by Robert and James Adam in 1775 and built on Wren–s earlier theatre. Author’s collection
Macklin lived a very long life and continued to work as an actor into extreme old age. However, as Macklin’s career extended over such a long period, his associates and family seem to have credited him with ten more years, referring to him for the last seven years of his life as a centenarian. There is conflicting evidence as to his actual age at death, as the plate on his coffin and the memorial erected by his wife in St Paul’s, Covent Garden, both give different ages.
Frances Asprey Congreve writes:
Mr. Macklin’s last attempt upon the Stage was on the seventh of May, 1789, in the character of Shylock, for his own benefit. He made repeated efforts to overcome the stupor which clouded his reason, but in vain; after the performance of the first act, he was obliged to solicit the company to permit Mr. Ryder to finifh his part; this was immediately assented to, and the Father of British Drama took his farewell of the Stage, amid the thundering plaudits of his admirers.
Congreve adds:
The remainder of his life cannot be viewed but with pity and concern. Though his mental faculties were so much impaired that he could not trace the features of his most intimate friends, and his sense of hearing so blunted that he could scarce catch at the words which were spoken to him, in a state little better than Swift’s Struldbruggs, he continued to frequent the Theatre every night, he sat a miserable spectacle unable to receive entertainment, and apparently unconscious of what was passing in the house. He continued this practice until; a very short time to his death, which happened on Tuesday the 11th of July, 1797, at his lodgings in Tavistock-Row, at the advanced period of 97 years of age.
His remains were conveyed on the Saturday following, at half past one in the afternoon, to Covent Garden Church, the cavalcade consisted of a hearse and four, and three coaches and four …
The corpse was taken into the vestry, and prayers were read over it in a very impressive manner, by the Rev. Mr. Ambrose, who had been a pupil of Mr. Macklin, and from the respect he bore his tutor, had come from Cambridge, to perform the last act of kindness, in reading over him the funeral service. – After the ceremony, the body was interred in the vault close to the north gate of the Church-yard, at the entrance to Covent-garden.
On the coffin plate was inscribed:
MR. CHARLES MACKLIN,
Comedian,
Died the 11th of July, 1797,
Aged 97 Years.
The memorial stone to Charles Macklin on the south wall in St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden. The author
It was at Macklin’s own request that he was interred in this particular vault, as he had a brother buried there. The expense of opening the vault was defrayed by Mr Harris, the liberal manager of Covent Garden Theatre. There was a rumour that the plate on Macklin’s coffin had been altered before the vault was sealed to read 107 years. However, this was proved to be false, when during repairs and refurbishment to the churchyard during Victoria’s reign, the vault was opened and it was found that the details on Macklin’s coffin were as recorded and no alteration to the plate had been made.
CHAPTER 8
Shot by an Amorous Clergyman 1779
… Hackman discharged the pistol in his right hand first, and immediately afterwards discharged the pistol in his left hand at himself. Miss Reay was shot through the head. She, upon lifting her hand to her face, fell and died on the spot; but finding himself alive after he had shot at himself, and fallen also with his feet close to those of Miss Ray, Hackman beat his head with the pistol and called out, Kill me! Kill me!
One of London’s most famous meeting places, the piazza of Covent Garden, was the scene of arguably the most notorious West End murder in the last quarter of the eighteenth century. It was also notable for the swiftness of justice which followed the tragic event. Martha Reay (or Ray), mistress of the Earl of Sandwich, was shot by the Reverend James Hackman, as she left the theatre on 7 April 1779.
Miss Martha Reay was born at Leicester Fields, Hertfordshire in 1742, the daughter of a stay maker, and at the age of fourteen was placed as an apprentice with Mrs Silver, of George’s Court, St John’s Lane, Clerkenwell, to be instructed in the business of a mantua maker (maker of gowns). Attractive and highly accomplished, with a pleasant singing voice, Martha, in 1761, at the age of nineteen, caught the eye of the Earl of Sandwich (John Montagu, 4th Earl 1718–92, First Lord of the Admiralty), who took her as his mistress. Lord Sandwich had married in 1741 and his wife had borne him five children. Unfortunately, Lady Sandwich’s state of mental health had declined since the birth of their fifth child in 1751 and in 1755 the couple had parted forever. Lady Sandwich was granted an apartment in Windsor Castle in which she lived with her unmarried sister, which enabled her to see her sons who were at school nearby at Eton. Her condition gradually declined until she was eventually formally declared insane by the Court of Chancery and made a ward of court. To a certain extent, as far as propriety allowed, among tolerant friends, Martha and Lord Sandwich lived together as man and wife. In the eighteenth century divorce was only possible by private Act of Parliament, which would have been a costly affair, and Sandwich’s finances were always in a precarious state; and in view of Lady Sandwich’s condition, divorce would not have been viewed favourably by both society and the general public. Instead Lord Sandwich made the best of the situation and settled down to life with Martha, it being the nearest he could manage to the happy marriage that had been lost to him forever. Martha and her children were referred to as Lord Sandwich’s ‘London family’ and there was peace and harmony within the household. However, relations between his eldest surviving son and heir, Viscount Hinchbrook, were always strained. He resented his father’s ‘London family’ and his father was determined to keep them apart.
There was to be a blight on this happy relationship between Martha Reay and Lord Sandwich. It came in the form of a young man named James Hackman. Hackman was born in Gosport, Hampshire of very respectable parents, who at the age of nineteen purchased him a commission in the 68th Regiment of Foot. Soon after he obtained his commission he was quartered at Huntingdon, where he was in charge of a recruiting party. He was invited by Lord Sandwich to his nearby country seat, Hinchbroke, to partake of the pleasures with his Lordship’s other visitors that were provided in abundance. Horace Walpole said of Hinchbroke:
… a very commodious, decent, irregular old House, much of it built in the time of Queen Elizabeth … not an ugly spot for Huntingdonshire.
It was at Hinchbroke that the youthful Hackman first met Martha Reay, who was under Lord Sandwich’s protection. Hackman fell desperately in love with Miss Reay, and she, flattered by the young man’s attentions, did little to discourage his advances. They exchanged letters for four years. These letters, purporting to be love letters between them were published shortly after Martha Reay’s death, apparently with ‘additions’ made by the editor. Having failed to gain promotion in the army, perhaps because he believed it would improve his chances with Miss Reay, Hackman took holy orders and was appointed to a parish in Norfolk in 1768. When in London, Hackman would often attend the theatre and concerts with Martha and Lord Sandwich and the relationship between Martha and the amorous clergyman grew stronger. In fact, unbeknown to his Lordhip, the relationship reached such a peak of passion, that at its height, Martha was considering leaving Lord Sandwich and going to live with Hackman, and Hackman had every intention of marrying her. However, considering the circumstances of Martha Reay’s position in life, the mistress of a peer of the realm, with five illegitimate children, I doubt if Hackman, a clergyman, could really have hoped for a living, had marriage between them taken place.
Martha Reay. Author’s collection
By the beginning of 1779 Martha and Lord Sandwich had lived together, very happily, for over eig
hteen years and she had borne him nine children, five of which had survived. In March 1779, Martha decided to end the relationship with Hackman. She certainly didn’t balk at the idea of a respectable marriage but at the risk of losing her children, it was a step she was not prepared to take. Instead, she determined to continue to live the happy existence she was accustomed to with her children and their ageing father; after all Lord Sandwich doted on his mistress and their children and she lived in the lap of luxury and was received in society. Despite Hackman’s youthfulness, life in a country parsonage would not have held many attractions, considering what Martha Reay had become accustomed to.
On the day of the tragic event, 7 April 1779, Hackman dined with his sister and brother-in-law, who was also his first cousin. The couple had married only five weeks previously. He left them promising he would return for supper. That evening Lord Sandwich was working late at the Admiralty. Hackman, on seeing his lordship’s coach with Martha Reay inside, concluded, quite correctly, that Miss Reay was going out to the opera, and would probably call on Signora Galli at her lodgings in the Haymarket (Catherina Galli was a retired prima donna, who amongst other fine singers had given Martha lessons. It was said that Martha Reay possessed a singing voice that could have earned her a high income, had she chosen a career on the stage). Hackman walked to the Cannon Coffee House, Charing Cross, where he expected to see Miss Reay pass, which he did indeed observe within a short time. He followed the carriage to Covent Garden, and saw Miss Reay and Signora Galli alight from it and go into the theatre. He followed the two ladies into the theatre and there observed a gentleman talking to Miss Reay. He was of a genteel and handsome appearance, and was later discovered to be Lord Coleraine. Hackman was seized with a fit of jealousy and at that moment decided to end his own life.
Foul Deeds and Suspicious Deaths in London's West End Page 10
