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Hanged for Shoplifting, Being a True History of Mary Jones’ Sad Life and Death
- Thread starter Praefectus Praetorio
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Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Centre Point, London
Looking along modern Oxford Street west toward Tyburn
A cart arriving at Tyburn
A Sterling silver vinaigrette from Regency time
Looking along modern Oxford Street west toward Tyburn
A cart arriving at Tyburn
A Sterling silver vinaigrette from Regency time
Last edited by a moderator:
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
I presume that many have observed that your avatar has a striking resemblance to Mary Jones.
I’ll need to borrow Wragg’s loathometer to gauge my negative reaction to this scoundrel. Not even his sense of fair play between hunted and hunter sparks a bit of sympathetic understanding in my mind. He’s a prime example of what I would have regarded in my school days as the classroom bully ... narcissistic, mean spirited, antagonistic, taunting and without any empathy whatsoever for others. Pity such characters exist, and occasionally even attain positions of high office and leadership.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
It seems that Barbara did not get on well with many of her High School Classmates.
A foreshadowing, perhaps, of her problems in Singapore, in the NYPD, at Dorsbury, and innumerable other places where she has suffered much for her outspokenness!
It seems that Barbara did not get on well with many of her High School Classmates.
Well, SOMEONE has to stand up for what’s right ... no matter what the cost.
twonines
LIMERICUS
Unfortunately (or fortunately for us), there is a fine line between being outspoken and being foolhardy,of which Barb`s alter ego is blissfully unaware.Well, SOMEONE has to stand up for what’s right ... no matter what the cost.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Given the consequences that she and her butt endures, is it really "blissful"
twonines
LIMERICUS
It is for us, if not for her !Given the consequences that she and her butt endures, is it really "blissful"
Migoz2
Senator
I refuse to believe such an ignoble thing could happen in the land of the free and the home of the brave!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Such a character is unfortunately a basic job requirement for such high positions!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Preparing the Condemned
The guards climbed back into the carts to prepare the prisoners for the executioners. Mary was staring with terror at the thick, brutal-looking gallows. She was sobbing and quivering from the physical pain and mental trauma caused by the last hour of violent assaults by the mob. Her angelic hair, now tousled in disarray, and fair, soft skin was blemished by clots of the filth that had been hurled at her. Her guard released her from her ties to the cart and stood her up. The tears running down her slightly freckled cheeks inspired lust, not pity in his hard heart. The vile character took full advantage of the opportunity to fondle her breasts and stroke her flanks as he wiped off the remaining detritus of the filth that had clung to her. He noted in passing the many bruises and cuts, especially the blood on her breast, from the harder projectiles.
With their preparation of condemned completed, the guards motioned for the remaining two Yeoman to climb into the two carts for their part of the deadly preparations. The Yeoman first inspected Allen and then looked Mary up and down, not without feeling lust at her naked torso, and noted that her ankles had not been tied. He turned and asked the guard.
“Ye left her ankles free then, did ye?”
“Aye. It be a matter of choice, ain’t it? I’s a-thinkin’ she’ll dance a better jig that way,” he replied. “The crowd will appreciate seeing her comely legs free.”
“Pleasing the crowd means more tips,” commented the Yeoman. When an execution particularly pleased the mob, many tips of a penny or more were thrown into the Yeomen’s hats. He knew hangman Dennis disdained flagrant efforts to please the crowd. He certainly would be displeased at stripping a girl as attractive as Mary stark naked. But her upper torso had already been bared at her own request to suckle her brat. And letting her legs kick to show a bit of thigh was an “innocent” addition.
“I’s also a-thinkin’ with that dress torn down,” here the guard gave the garment a hard tug downward, tearing it more deeply and leaving it to a precarious balance on the girl’s hips. “she might just kick it off. Tain’t our fault if she kicks it off herself.”
The Yeoman appreciated the guard’s subtle stratagem to expose the girl without doing so himself. “Dying naked with her thatch exposed would be a nice extra shame for the whore, and excitement for the crowd. Serves the bitch right!”
Between sobs, Mary was modestly protested their forcing her to present this obscene display and begging to have her upper body concealed from the lecherous gaze of the throng, but the two men would have none of it.
The Yeoman took in Mary’s voluptuous figure bared almost to her mons. The sight and the thought of seeing more caused his member to stiffen noticeably.
“Aye," he replied, "she’ll make a fine show shaking those big paps o’ ‘ers. You hear girl,” he said taking her jaw in his hand and bringing his face close to hers. “You dance a lusty Tyburn Jig and make me some good tips.”
He sharply tightened the noose around her neck, causing the girl to gasp. Then he uncoiled the rope, tossing the free end to his counterpart balancing upon the beam. He, in turn, tied the rope to the beam leaving no slack.
Mary stood straight upright, raising her heels, striving to relieve the pull on her neck. The horror of death was very close for her now, the hemp circling her neck snuggly, the threat of the noose tightening around her throat terrifying. On top of it all the was the humiliation for the shy girl of having her upper torso presented nude for the vulgar crowd.
Ordinary Wood went among the condemned, praying with them, hearing any last confession and final words. He came last to Mary. The bachelor priest looked in astonishment at the sexy young woman, presented lewdly for all to see. Her posture hollowed her already thin waist and thrust her buxom bosom out in a poerfully tempting way. His eyes wandered over her front, marked by bruises and cuts from the projectiles, trails of blood oozing down her one side, and from the nipple of her left breast. Rev. Wood struggled to contain his own lust at the erotic display and concentrate on bringing her one last consolation.
Tears filled his eyes and hers. The girl was so distraught that she hardly knew what was happening around her. The pain and humiliation of the assaults on the way had left her shocked beyond bearing. Now, the realization of impending death, with rope tight around her delicate neck, had grown and grown until her mind was screaming in abhorrence. While Wood prayed for her soul, all the girl could do was whisper over and over pleas for mercy. “Please, please, Sir. Stop this! My God, please! Please, I’s don’t wants to die. Please I’s always bean a good girl! My husband! My babies! Please Sir! I can’t leave them. This rope’s too tight – it hurts! Please help me!”
Wood wept bitterly as he completed the ritual of prayers with no true solace to offer the sweet innocent young woman. He made the sign of the cross, stroked her fair hair, and kissed her gently on the forehead before climbing down to the ground. That simple gesture, the one act of kindness to her today would also be the last comfort she ever felt.
As you can imagine, these preparations could take quite some time when a batch of five prisoners were being hanged. During this time, the eager anticipation of the crowd grew in sync with the terror of the prisoners. Impending doom approached and eternity drew near.
Pronouncing Sentence on the Condemned
When everything was ready, the City Marshall stood up in his black robes and gold chains to pronounce the judgment of the court. As he completed each sentence, a raucous cheer rose from the crowd, many of whom had, by now, imbibed freely of the strong drink being sold. He came last to Mary.
“Mary the wife of William Jones, indicted for stealing 4 pieces of worked muslin, containing 52 yards, value 5 l 10 s. the property of William Foot, privately in his shop, August 7th in the year of our Gracious Lord, 1771.” A dramatic pause. “Guilty!” A ringing cheer. “Sentence: Death by Hanging!” The loudest cheer yet. Though there were some weeping in sympathy for the girl, the part of the crowd closest to her was twisted by cruelty and lust and everywhere Mary looked she saw evil in the faces.
Unbeknownst to Mary, she did have some friends in the audience. She couldn’t see to the east end of the crowd, where Ann Styles stood weeping. She was there out of love for her friend, but she couldn’t get close. Several of Mary’s neighbors from Red Lion Street were there as well. All were weeping freely as they watched the sweet girl they’d loved and cherished, unjustly prepared for death.
Just then, the noon bells could be heard from the church of St. George’s Hanover Square. Time for the hanging.
The Executioner
The City Marshal, had completed his duties. He bowed toward Edward Dennis and said, in a loud voice, “I defer to the Lord of the Manor of Tyburn.”
The throng let loose a massive cheer of appreciation and Ned bowed in acknowledgment. He was now the man of the hour
This was the job that Edward Dennis was born to, the job he loved. He would execute the prisoners professionally and smoothly. He looked to the three highwaymen in the first cart, lined up from front to back, their nooses firmly tied to the beam. He signaled the guards to leave the cart, and his Yeoman to sit in the box and take the reins and whip. The hangman raised his right hand. The crowd fell eerily quiet. The hardened criminals could be heard crying and begging for their lives.
When he saw that all was properly prepared, Ned lowered his hand, the Yeoman whipped the horse, and the cart moved slowly forward. One-by-one, the men were dragged to the back and each, in turn, stepped off into thin air.
They would only have a few inches of drop, at most; the noose cinching around their necks. Not enough to break the neck or strangle at once. Just enough to reduce the blood flow to the brain and restrict breathing. Enough for them to know they were dying.
The mob cheered as each one was turned off and began his slow, losing fight with strangulation. The average person will survive up to two minutes without oxygen. Short shallow breaths were possible at first before the noose tightened fully. Death might take anywhere from six minutes up to twenty, with the condemned aware and panicking most of the time.
The hangman, or his assistants or sometimes the prisoners’ relatives might pull on the prisoners’ legs to hasten their end (hence the expression, “you’re pulling my leg”). However, Ned Dennis thought that scenario unseemly and forbid his Yeoman from doing so, even for a generous tip. However, he rarely interfered with friends or relatives who wanted to help someone die quicker.
Dennis watched as the men began to writhe in convulsive agony, their tied legs paddling the air — “dancing the Tyburn jig” as it was known. Satisfied with the thoroughness of the first part of the executions, he turned to the second cart with Allen at the rear and Mary at the front. Allen was bawling in a loud voice for mercy, casting his eyes heavenward and weeping like a baby. The assemblage, always respectful of a “Good Death” hurled insults at the coward. Mary, just as distraught, but naturally shy and retrained, sobbed deeply, but only softly begged the onlookers around her to save her. They only laughed, made fun of her, and shouted obscenities. Many cheered the way her sobs made her voluptuous breasts jiggle.
Dennis again motioned the guards to leave the cart. When they were down and away, he gestured to his Yeoman to get into the box with the reins and whip. The man quickly did so and turned to watch the hangman give the signal.
For some reason, as Ned raised his right hand, he hesitated, looking at the girl, stripped to the waist, alone and vulnerable. Though her sensual attractions were not lost on him, what affected him was a strange feeling of a vague inner regret as he prepared to end her life, as if someone was whispering a plea for mercy in his ear. He looked around, half expecting to find a source of the sound in his mind. Or, perhaps, he hoped for the arrival of a miraculous pardon.
But, naturally, no supplicant presented herself, and last-minute clemency is a cheap trick of hack fiction writers wanting a heart-warming, Dickensian end of their story. In a true story like this, there was no pardon, just the screams of the mad crowd for the lives of the condemned. Dennis turned back, took a deep breath and lowered his hand.
Just then, he felt a cold shiver up his spine. Ned had never been one to believe in the “Ghosts of Tyburn” which some claimed to see. But, now, he had his doubts.
The guards climbed back into the carts to prepare the prisoners for the executioners. Mary was staring with terror at the thick, brutal-looking gallows. She was sobbing and quivering from the physical pain and mental trauma caused by the last hour of violent assaults by the mob. Her angelic hair, now tousled in disarray, and fair, soft skin was blemished by clots of the filth that had been hurled at her. Her guard released her from her ties to the cart and stood her up. The tears running down her slightly freckled cheeks inspired lust, not pity in his hard heart. The vile character took full advantage of the opportunity to fondle her breasts and stroke her flanks as he wiped off the remaining detritus of the filth that had clung to her. He noted in passing the many bruises and cuts, especially the blood on her breast, from the harder projectiles.
With their preparation of condemned completed, the guards motioned for the remaining two Yeoman to climb into the two carts for their part of the deadly preparations. The Yeoman first inspected Allen and then looked Mary up and down, not without feeling lust at her naked torso, and noted that her ankles had not been tied. He turned and asked the guard.
“Ye left her ankles free then, did ye?”
“Aye. It be a matter of choice, ain’t it? I’s a-thinkin’ she’ll dance a better jig that way,” he replied. “The crowd will appreciate seeing her comely legs free.”
“Pleasing the crowd means more tips,” commented the Yeoman. When an execution particularly pleased the mob, many tips of a penny or more were thrown into the Yeomen’s hats. He knew hangman Dennis disdained flagrant efforts to please the crowd. He certainly would be displeased at stripping a girl as attractive as Mary stark naked. But her upper torso had already been bared at her own request to suckle her brat. And letting her legs kick to show a bit of thigh was an “innocent” addition.
“I’s also a-thinkin’ with that dress torn down,” here the guard gave the garment a hard tug downward, tearing it more deeply and leaving it to a precarious balance on the girl’s hips. “she might just kick it off. Tain’t our fault if she kicks it off herself.”
The Yeoman appreciated the guard’s subtle stratagem to expose the girl without doing so himself. “Dying naked with her thatch exposed would be a nice extra shame for the whore, and excitement for the crowd. Serves the bitch right!”
Between sobs, Mary was modestly protested their forcing her to present this obscene display and begging to have her upper body concealed from the lecherous gaze of the throng, but the two men would have none of it.
The Yeoman took in Mary’s voluptuous figure bared almost to her mons. The sight and the thought of seeing more caused his member to stiffen noticeably.
“Aye," he replied, "she’ll make a fine show shaking those big paps o’ ‘ers. You hear girl,” he said taking her jaw in his hand and bringing his face close to hers. “You dance a lusty Tyburn Jig and make me some good tips.”
He sharply tightened the noose around her neck, causing the girl to gasp. Then he uncoiled the rope, tossing the free end to his counterpart balancing upon the beam. He, in turn, tied the rope to the beam leaving no slack.
Mary stood straight upright, raising her heels, striving to relieve the pull on her neck. The horror of death was very close for her now, the hemp circling her neck snuggly, the threat of the noose tightening around her throat terrifying. On top of it all the was the humiliation for the shy girl of having her upper torso presented nude for the vulgar crowd.
Ordinary Wood went among the condemned, praying with them, hearing any last confession and final words. He came last to Mary. The bachelor priest looked in astonishment at the sexy young woman, presented lewdly for all to see. Her posture hollowed her already thin waist and thrust her buxom bosom out in a poerfully tempting way. His eyes wandered over her front, marked by bruises and cuts from the projectiles, trails of blood oozing down her one side, and from the nipple of her left breast. Rev. Wood struggled to contain his own lust at the erotic display and concentrate on bringing her one last consolation.
Tears filled his eyes and hers. The girl was so distraught that she hardly knew what was happening around her. The pain and humiliation of the assaults on the way had left her shocked beyond bearing. Now, the realization of impending death, with rope tight around her delicate neck, had grown and grown until her mind was screaming in abhorrence. While Wood prayed for her soul, all the girl could do was whisper over and over pleas for mercy. “Please, please, Sir. Stop this! My God, please! Please, I’s don’t wants to die. Please I’s always bean a good girl! My husband! My babies! Please Sir! I can’t leave them. This rope’s too tight – it hurts! Please help me!”
Wood wept bitterly as he completed the ritual of prayers with no true solace to offer the sweet innocent young woman. He made the sign of the cross, stroked her fair hair, and kissed her gently on the forehead before climbing down to the ground. That simple gesture, the one act of kindness to her today would also be the last comfort she ever felt.
As you can imagine, these preparations could take quite some time when a batch of five prisoners were being hanged. During this time, the eager anticipation of the crowd grew in sync with the terror of the prisoners. Impending doom approached and eternity drew near.
Pronouncing Sentence on the Condemned
When everything was ready, the City Marshall stood up in his black robes and gold chains to pronounce the judgment of the court. As he completed each sentence, a raucous cheer rose from the crowd, many of whom had, by now, imbibed freely of the strong drink being sold. He came last to Mary.
“Mary the wife of William Jones, indicted for stealing 4 pieces of worked muslin, containing 52 yards, value 5 l 10 s. the property of William Foot, privately in his shop, August 7th in the year of our Gracious Lord, 1771.” A dramatic pause. “Guilty!” A ringing cheer. “Sentence: Death by Hanging!” The loudest cheer yet. Though there were some weeping in sympathy for the girl, the part of the crowd closest to her was twisted by cruelty and lust and everywhere Mary looked she saw evil in the faces.
Unbeknownst to Mary, she did have some friends in the audience. She couldn’t see to the east end of the crowd, where Ann Styles stood weeping. She was there out of love for her friend, but she couldn’t get close. Several of Mary’s neighbors from Red Lion Street were there as well. All were weeping freely as they watched the sweet girl they’d loved and cherished, unjustly prepared for death.
Just then, the noon bells could be heard from the church of St. George’s Hanover Square. Time for the hanging.
The Executioner
The City Marshal, had completed his duties. He bowed toward Edward Dennis and said, in a loud voice, “I defer to the Lord of the Manor of Tyburn.”
The throng let loose a massive cheer of appreciation and Ned bowed in acknowledgment. He was now the man of the hour
This was the job that Edward Dennis was born to, the job he loved. He would execute the prisoners professionally and smoothly. He looked to the three highwaymen in the first cart, lined up from front to back, their nooses firmly tied to the beam. He signaled the guards to leave the cart, and his Yeoman to sit in the box and take the reins and whip. The hangman raised his right hand. The crowd fell eerily quiet. The hardened criminals could be heard crying and begging for their lives.
When he saw that all was properly prepared, Ned lowered his hand, the Yeoman whipped the horse, and the cart moved slowly forward. One-by-one, the men were dragged to the back and each, in turn, stepped off into thin air.
They would only have a few inches of drop, at most; the noose cinching around their necks. Not enough to break the neck or strangle at once. Just enough to reduce the blood flow to the brain and restrict breathing. Enough for them to know they were dying.
The mob cheered as each one was turned off and began his slow, losing fight with strangulation. The average person will survive up to two minutes without oxygen. Short shallow breaths were possible at first before the noose tightened fully. Death might take anywhere from six minutes up to twenty, with the condemned aware and panicking most of the time.
The hangman, or his assistants or sometimes the prisoners’ relatives might pull on the prisoners’ legs to hasten their end (hence the expression, “you’re pulling my leg”). However, Ned Dennis thought that scenario unseemly and forbid his Yeoman from doing so, even for a generous tip. However, he rarely interfered with friends or relatives who wanted to help someone die quicker.
Dennis watched as the men began to writhe in convulsive agony, their tied legs paddling the air — “dancing the Tyburn jig” as it was known. Satisfied with the thoroughness of the first part of the executions, he turned to the second cart with Allen at the rear and Mary at the front. Allen was bawling in a loud voice for mercy, casting his eyes heavenward and weeping like a baby. The assemblage, always respectful of a “Good Death” hurled insults at the coward. Mary, just as distraught, but naturally shy and retrained, sobbed deeply, but only softly begged the onlookers around her to save her. They only laughed, made fun of her, and shouted obscenities. Many cheered the way her sobs made her voluptuous breasts jiggle.
Dennis again motioned the guards to leave the cart. When they were down and away, he gestured to his Yeoman to get into the box with the reins and whip. The man quickly did so and turned to watch the hangman give the signal.
For some reason, as Ned raised his right hand, he hesitated, looking at the girl, stripped to the waist, alone and vulnerable. Though her sensual attractions were not lost on him, what affected him was a strange feeling of a vague inner regret as he prepared to end her life, as if someone was whispering a plea for mercy in his ear. He looked around, half expecting to find a source of the sound in his mind. Or, perhaps, he hoped for the arrival of a miraculous pardon.
But, naturally, no supplicant presented herself, and last-minute clemency is a cheap trick of hack fiction writers wanting a heart-warming, Dickensian end of their story. In a true story like this, there was no pardon, just the screams of the mad crowd for the lives of the condemned. Dennis turned back, took a deep breath and lowered his hand.
Just then, he felt a cold shiver up his spine. Ned had never been one to believe in the “Ghosts of Tyburn” which some claimed to see. But, now, he had his doubts.
Migoz2
Senator
Very nicely done, PrPr. The resonances with his mother's tale are excellent.
Well, quite!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Thomas Turlis, the Hangman before Edward Dennis. No likeness of Edward has survived.
Approaching the Gallows
Tying the Ropes
St. George's Hanover Square whose noon bell toll signaled the hanging (1787).
Marker near present Marble Arch
Mary Jones, condemned to die.
Approaching the Gallows
Tying the Ropes
St. George's Hanover Square whose noon bell toll signaled the hanging (1787).
Marker near present Marble Arch
Mary Jones, condemned to die.
settantuno
MUTUS PICTOR
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
I showed a facsimile of the record of the proceedings in #82, which you may refer to. Here is the full transcript printed on the trial of Mary and Ann. It is not written by me!
570, 571. (L.) Mary the wife of William Jones , and Ann Styles , spinster , were indicted, for stealing 4 pieces of worked muslin, containing 52 yards, value 5 l 10 s. the property of William Foot , privately in his shop , August 7 . ++
Christopher Preston . I live with Mr. Foot, linen draper , in Ludgate-street ; the two prisoners came to our shop on the 7th of August, between five and seven, under pretence to buy a child's frock, after giving a good deal of trouble nothing would suit them; our apprentice shewed them some. Jones went from the counter towards the door; in going along, I perceived her move her arm; I suspected she had something under her cloak; I followed her and brought her in from the door, and took from under her arm, the remnants of worked muslin; they laid on the counter ready to put up in a rapper (the muslin produced and deposed to.)
Andrew Hawkins . I was behind the counter, they came in and asked for some low price linen; I believe Styles asked for them; there was none she liked, Jones's child was on the counter, she went to the door with the child; Mr. Presten brought her in from the door and took two pieces from under her gown, and two or three pieces fell on the floor; I went for a constable and took them to the Compter.
Thomas Ham . I live at Temple Bar; they came into my shop; I suspected them, and I watched them into a great many shops, at last into Mr. Foot's, and we took these muslins from under their cloaks, one of them said to the other it was a very unfortunate accident or they should have had something; there were five of them, three waited at a distance, these came to them as they came out of the shop.
Q. How many shops did you watch them into?
Ham. I believe at least fifteen.
Q. From what hour?
Ham. From three o'clock till six.
Q. Did the same two people go into every shop?
Ham. I believe these two always went in; the others stood out, I think.
Jones's Defence.
I gave them the muslin out of my hand in the shop; I have been a very honest woman in my life time; I have two children; I work very hard to maintain my two children since my husband was pressed.
Styles's Defence.
We live in one house together; she wanted to buy a child's jam; I went along with her, we only went into three shops; we live in Angel Alley in the Strand; I was looking at a piece of linen when they accused her of this.
Jones. guilty , Death .
Styles Acquitted .
Reference - "Proceedings of the Old Bailey" https://www.oldbaileyonline.org/browse.jsp?id=t17710911-32-off174&div=t17710911-32#highlight
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minyoo
Assistant executioner
That is most certainly what I have intended! *wink*
Not just the face, but the expression and the ambience, makes the resemblance striking.
minyoo
Assistant executioner
This really is getting more and more beautiful than my highest expectation. If there is a word that combines the sense of melancholy, arousal, pity and beauty, I need it now.