Ghost Stories of an Antiquary, Montague Rhodes James [best ereader under 100 .TXT] 📗

disposition to take a pipe of

tobacco. So I found a pipe on the chimney-piece, and being it was twist,

and in regard of me having by an oversight left my knife at my house, and

me not having over many teeth to pluck at it, as your lordship or anyone

else may have a view by their own eyesight—

 

L.C.J. What is the man talking about? Come to the matter, fellow! Do

you think we sit here to look at your teeth?

 

Th. No, my lord, nor I would not you should do, God forbid! I know your

honours have better employment, and better teeth, I would not wonder.

 

L.C.J. Good God, what a man is this! Yes, I have better teeth, and

that you shall find if you keep not to the purpose.

 

Th. I humbly ask pardon, my lord, but so it was. And I took upon me,

thinking no harm, to ask Squire Martin to lend me his knife to cut my

tobacco. And he felt first of one pocket and then of another and it was

not there at all. And says I, ‘What! have you lost your knife, Squire?’

And up he gets and feels again and he sat down, and such a groan as he

gave. ‘Good God!’ he says, ‘I must have left it there.’ ‘But,’ says I,

‘Squire, by all appearance it is not there. Did you set a value on it,’

says I, ‘you might have it cried.’ But he sat there and put his head

between his hands and seemed to take no notice to what I said. And then

it was Mistress Arscott come tracking back out of the kitchen place.

 

Asked if he heard the voice singing outside the house, he said ‘No,’ but

the door into the kitchen was shut, and there was a high wind: but says

that no one could mistake Ann Clark’s voice.

 

Then a boy, William Reddaway, about thirteen years of age, was called,

and by the usual questions, put by the Lord Chief Justice, it was

ascertained that he knew the nature of an oath. And so he was sworn. His

evidence referred to a time about a week later.

 

Att. Now, child, don’t be frighted: there is no one here will hurt you

if you speak the truth.

 

L.C.J. Ay, if he speak the truth. But remember, child, thou art in the

presence of the great God of heaven and earth, that hath the keys of

hell, and of us that are the king’s officers, and have the keys of

Newgate; and remember, too, there is a man’s life in question; and if

thou tellest a lie, and by that means he comes to an ill end, thou art no

better than his murderer; and so speak the truth.

 

Att. Tell the jury what you know, and speak out. Where were you on the

evening of the 23rd of May last?

 

L.C.J. Why, what does such a boy as this know of days. Can you mark the

day, boy?

 

W. Yes, my lord, it was the day before our feast, and I was to spend

sixpence there, and that falls a month before Midsummer Day.

 

One of the Jury. My lord, we cannot hear what he says.

 

L.C.J. He says he remembers the day because it was the day before the

feast they had there, and he had sixpence to lay out. Set him up on the

table there. Well, child, and where wast thou then?

 

W. Keeping cows on the moor, my lord.

 

But, the boy using the country speech, my lord could not well apprehend

him, and so asked if there was anyone that could interpret him, and it

was answered the parson of the parish was there, and he was accordingly

sworn and so the evidence given. The boy said:

 

‘I was on the moor about six o’clock, and sitting behind a bush of furze

near a pond of water: and the prisoner came very cautiously and looking

about him, having something like a long pole in his hand, and stopped a

good while as if he would be listening, and then began to feel in the

water with the pole: and I being very near the water—not above five

yards—heard as if the pole struck up against something that made a

wallowing sound, and the prisoner dropped the pole and threw himself on

the ground, and rolled himself about very strangely with his hands to his

ears, and so after a while got up and went creeping away.’

 

Asked if he had had any communication with the prisoner, ‘Yes, a day or

two before, the prisoner, hearing I was used to be on the moor, he asked

me if I had seen a knife laying about, and said he would give sixpence to

find it. And I said I had not seen any such thing, but I would ask about.

Then he said he would give me sixpence to say nothing, and so he did.’

 

L.C.J. And was that the sixpence you were to lay out at the feast?

 

W. Yes, if you please, my lord.

 

Asked if he had observed anything particular as to the pond of water, he

said, ‘No, except that it begun to have a very ill smell and the cows

would not drink of it for some days before.’

 

Asked if he had ever seen the prisoner and Ann Clark in company together,

he began to cry very much, and it was a long time before they could get

him to speak intelligibly. At last the parson of the parish, Mr Matthews,

got him to be quiet, and the question being put to him again, he said he

had seen Ann Clark waiting on the moor for the prisoner at some way off,

several times since last Christmas.

 

Att. Did you see her close, so as to be sure it was she?

 

W. Yes, quite sure.

 

L.C.J. How quite sure, child?

 

W. Because she would stand and jump up and down and clap her arms like

a goose [which he called by some country name: but the parson explained

it to be a goose]. And then she was of such a shape that it could not be

no one else.

 

Att. What was the last time that you so saw her?

 

Then the witness began to cry again and clung very much to Mr Matthews,

who bid him not be frightened.

 

And so at last he told his story: that on the day before their feast

(being the same evening that he had before spoken of) after the prisoner

had gone away, it being then twilight and he very desirous to get home,

but afraid for the present to stir from where he was lest the prisoner

should see him, remained some few minutes behind the bush, looking on the

pond, and saw something dark come up out of the water at the edge of the

pond farthest away from him, and so up the bank. And when it got to the

top where he could see it plain against the sky, it stood up and flapped

the arms up and down, and then run off very swiftly in the same direction

the prisoner had taken: and being asked very strictly who he took it to

be, he said upon his oath that it could be nobody but Ann Clark.

 

Thereafter his master was called, and gave evidence that the boy had come

home very late that evening and been chided for it, and that he seemed

very much amazed, but could give no account of the reason.

 

Att. My lord, we have done with our evidence for the King.

 

Then the Lord Chief Justice called upon the prisoner to make his defence;

which he did, though at no great length, and in a very halting way,

saying that he hoped the jury would not go about to take his life on the

evidence of a parcel of country people and children that would believe

any idle tale; and that he had been very much prejudiced in his trial; at

which the L.C.J. interrupted him, saying that he had had singular favour

shown to him in having his trial removed from Exeter, which the prisoner

acknowledging, said that he meant rather that since he was brought to

London there had not been care taken to keep him secured from

interruption and disturbance. Upon which the L.C.J. ordered the Marshal

to be called, and questioned him about the safe keeping of the prisoner,

but could find nothing: except the Marshal said that he had been informed

by the underkeeper that they had seen a person outside his door or going

up the stairs to it: but there was no possibility the person should have

got in. And it being inquired further what sort of person this might be,

the Marshal could not speak to it save by hearsay, which was not allowed.

And the prisoner, being asked if this was what he meant, said no, he knew

nothing of that, but it was very hard that a man should not be suffered

to be at quiet when his life stood on it. But it was observed he was very

hasty in his denial. And so he said no more, and called no witnesses.

Whereupon the Attorney-General spoke to the jury. [A full report of what

he said is given, and, if time allowed, I would extract that portion in

which he dwells on the alleged appearance of the murdered person: he

quotes some authorities of ancient date, as St Augustine _de cura pro

mortuis gerenda_ (a favourite book of reference with the old writers on

the supernatural) and also cites some cases which may be seen in

Glanvil’s, but more conveniently in Mr Lang’s books. He does not,

however, tell us more of those cases than is to be found in print.]

 

The Lord Chief Justice then summed up the evidence for the jury. His

speech, again, contains nothing that I find worth copying out: but he was

naturally impressed with the singular character of the evidence, saying

that he had never heard such given in his experience; but that there was

nothing in law to set it aside, and that the jury must consider whether

they believed these witnesses or not.

 

And the jury after a very short consultation brought the prisoner in

Guilty.

 

So he was asked whether he had anything to say in arrest of judgement,

and pleaded that his name was spelt wrong in the indictment, being Martin

with an I, whereas it should be with a Y. But this was overruled as not

material, Mr Attorney saying, moreover, that he could bring evidence to

show that the prisoner by times wrote it as it was laid in the

indictment. And, the prisoner having nothing further to offer, sentence

of death was passed upon him, and that he should be hanged in chains upon

a gibbet near the place where the fact was committed, and that execution

should take place upon the 28th December next ensuing, being Innocents’

Day.

 

Thereafter the prisoner being to all appearance in a state of

desperation, made shift to ask the L.C.J. that his relations might be

allowed to come to him during the short time he had to live.

 

L.C.J. Ay, with all my heart, so it be in the presence of the keeper;

and Ann Clark may come to you as well, for what I care.

 

At which the prisoner broke out and cried to his lordship not to use such