The History of Margaret Catchpole, a Suffolk Girl

“I must say that, in the whole course of my judicial career, I have never met with a person who so well knew right from wrong, and who so extraordinarily perverted that gift. I must say, likewise, that I have never met with any one who has received so good a former character at such a moment as the present. The representations that have been made of your past conduct shall be forwarded to the king, with whom alone the prerogative of mercy in your case exists.

“It would be cruelty, however, in me did I not candidly tell you, that the crime for which you are now to suffer is one of such frequent, bold, and in this day, daring commission, as to defy the authority of the law; so that persons detected and brought to judgement, as you are, stand but little chance of mercy. It is not in my power to give you any hope of escaping the full punishment of the law, but I will represent your case this very night, before I sleep, to the proper quarter whence any alteration in your behalf can alone be obtained.

“I need scarcely tell you not to rely upon any false hopes which friends may hold out to you, who would grieve the more could they see the danger and distress which they thereby occasion. Let me rather entreat you to continue that attention to the interest of your soul which has already been well instructed and fortified against the present crisis. You have to prepare, prisoner at the bar, for a greater trial, a more awful moment; and I hope you will make good use of the short time which remains in preparation for eternity. You appear to have been well assisted hitherto, and the good instruction seems to have fallen upon productive ground. I hope the increase will continue to the day of your death.

“It only remains for me to fulfil my duty, by passing the sentence of the court upon you, which is —

“That you be taken from the place where you now stand, back to the place whence you came, and thence to the place of execution, and there be hanged by the neck until you be dead; and may God have mercy upon your soul!”

At these last words tears of agony overwhelmed many in the court; but Margaret herself seemed to be less overcome by the sentence than by the kind words of the judge.

She respectfully curtsied to him and the court, and, in the act of retiring, fell into her father’s arms. She was conveyed back to the gaol in a swoon.

In the meantime every exertion was made to represent her case favourably to the judge. A petition was signed by many of the grand jury, as well as the petty jury, in her behalf, and strong hopes were entertained of a reprieve.

These things were not mentioned to the prisoner, who returned to the cell of condemned felons, to employ her time in “seeking that peace which the world cannot give.”

A keeper constantly attended her, and a female sat up with her all that night. She requested to have a Bible, and pen, ink, and paper: these were granted her. She did not sleep, but read the Sacred Book, sometimes aloud, sometimes to herself. She also seemed to find great relief in writing to her friends. One letter which she wrote to her uncle, and another to her mistress, on that very night, will best evince the state of her mind and feelings.

“My dear Uncle,

“This will reach you to-morrow before you leave Bury. Give my love and best thanks to my aunt and friends who spoke this day in behalf of your unhappy niece; but, when you arrive at Ipswich, be sure and call and thank that dear old gentleman, Doctor Stebbing. I know he feels very much for me, but tell him not to distress himself, as if I were to be lost for ever. Tell him I hope to see him in a better world. He has been very kind to me in those days when I was most forlorn, and my Saviour, who then guided me to him, will give him his reward. For He says, that a cup of cold water given to one of His most poor and wretched children, shall not be forgotten.

“Dear uncle, show this letter to the gentleman in whose hands you have placed the money which I gave you for such purpose, and tell him that I wish it to be restored to William Laud, its rightful owner, if he can be found, and will receive it again. If he is not found, after my death, within the space of one year, I wish it to be divided into four equal portions: one for my father, one for my brother Edward, one for yourself, and one for my aunt.

“Do not mourn for me, dear uncle, for I sincerely believe in God’s forgiveness of my past sins, through the merits of Jesus Christ, my Saviour. My prayer to God is, ‘Increase my faith, O Lord! and pardon me, as thou didst the malefactor upon the cross;’ for I feel, dear uncle, as if I was justly in that thief’s condemnation. I hope soon, very soon, to be in a better state, and in a happier world. I wish you and my aunt to come to Ipswich and see me once more before I suffer. Tell my aunt I wish her to purchase something decent for my funeral. She will find some money in the corner of my box, under the linen. Oh! how little did he, who gave me that money, and who so worthily esteemed me, how little did he think that any portion of it would be devoted to such a purpose! My dear uncle, go and comfort my poor father, and my good young brother: I will write to them before another day is past. I wish my bones to lie beside my mother’s and sister’s, in Nacton churchyard. I am told that on Saturday week I shall probably suffer death. God grant I may then be prepared!

“We shall all return to Ipswich as soon as the nine prisoners, whom Mr. Ripshaw brought to Bury, shall have been tried. Pray for me, dear uncle! Warn the dear children by my fate. I should like to see them myself. I wish I could impress upon their young minds the dreadful feelings of guilt which I have endured, and so prevent their commission of any crime. I am going to write now to my dear mistress, and, as you return to-morrow, you must take that letter and deliver it. God bless you, dear uncle! God’s peace be with you! So no more from your poor affectionate niece,

"Margaret Catchpole

“Bury Gaol, August 9th, 1797.

"To Mr. Leader, Six Bells Inn, Bury.”

"To Mrs. Cobbold

“Honoured Madam,

“My trial is over, and I dare say my dear master has already told you the fate of your unhappy servant. He cannot, however, tell you what I can, and what will better please your good heart than the account of my trial, namely, that I am not so disconsolate as many persons may think I am. No; God be praised, and thanks to those dear friends who visited me in the Ipswich gaol; and chiefly thanks to you, among them, my dear lady; my heart is consoled with the prospect of soon seeing better things than this wicked world can show me. Oh! my dear lady, I hope to see you among those bright shining spirits who live for ever in harmony and love. Oh! how happy shall we then be, free from fear of pain or grief! I have just been reading that beautiful passage, where it is written, ‘God shall wipe all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying; neither shall there be any more pain.’ Oh! what a different world must that be to this; and what should make us grieve to leave this world? It is only the fear of future wrath that can prevent our joyfully looking up to heaven through the valley of death. And, dearest lady, if such a wretched being as I am can hope in that Saviour who died for me and all the world, surely, you, dear lady, must have a bright, a pleasant prospect, before you. Heaven bless you, for all your goodness to me in the days of my prosperity, but more for your Christian charity in the day of my adversity! The judge, who really, I think, reminded me of you, told me I had been well instructed; I wish he knew you, dear madam, and he would then be assured of it. Thank my kind master for his goodness to his unworthy servant. I had no hope of mercy from the first, and the judge told me not to trust in any such idea in this world. He spoke much less severely than I expected; but I was prepared for his condemnation, and I am now preparing my mind for the day of execution. I find great comfort in the Scriptures, because I have no secret pangs of unconfessed guilt, or any wish in my heart to cover or palliate my offences. My trial is over, and the same God who sustained me through it, will, I hope, preserve my spirit faithful to the last. Every moment seems valuable to me, dear lady, now that I know them to be so soon numbered; and I scarcely like to lose one even in sleep. Nature, however, is weary with fatigue and anxiety, though my spirit seems so wakeful. If I go to sleep, it will be in prayer for you and all my friends. That God may bless you and all your dear family, is the heartfelt desire of your unfortunate, though ever grateful servant,

"Margaret Catchpole.

“Bury Gaol, August 9th, 1797.

“P.S. – My good uncle Leader will bring this, of whom you can ask any particulars, as he was in court during my trial.”

On the 11th of August, a letter arrived from the Home Office, in London, giving full powers to the judge to exercise the prerogative of mercy in her case, as he might see fit. The judge was not in court at the time, but in his own rooms. He sent immediately for the sheriff and the prosecutor, Mr. Cobbold, and explained to them the purport of the letter he had received. He thought, however, that some punishment should mark the sense of crime. He therefore commuted the sentence of death for the shortest period of transportation for seven years; and he signed the necessary document for such purpose. He intimated that that period might be shortened by the good conduct of the prisoner in gaol; for as there was great difficulty now in sending prisoners to the new settlement, her portion of confinement would most likely be spent in the Ipswich Gaol. The judge added, that the woman appeared to be a most sensible creature; and he made many most minute inquiries concerning her education and habits. He said that she had conducted herself during her trial in a very becoming manner, and he hoped that her punishment would end with half the term of confinement. This would depend upon the representations of the visiting magistrates.

CHAPTER XXIV THE REPRIEVE AND REMOVAL

The feelings of Margaret Catchpole under the new circumstances which now awaited her, will be best explained by a letter written by her to Mrs. Cobbold immediately after the communication of the happy tidings, and her consequent removal to Ipswich Gaol.

"Ipswich Gaol, Sunday Evening, August 13th, 1797.

“Honoured Madam,

“You have heard of your poor servant’s reprieve. I had no time to write you word yesterday, because of the bustle of our return, and the general congratulations of the prisoners. Mr. Ripshaw has permitted me to have pen, ink, and paper, this evening, and I hasten to write my heart. Good Mr. Sharp has been warning me against too great exultation in my change, and very kindly says to me in words of truth: ‘Sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon thee.’ This was his subject in the chapel to-day. I certainly do, even now, feel very different to what I did when I wrote to you last, dear lady, from Bury. I had then made up my mind to die, and hoped to live for ever. I now make up my mind to live; but I hope not to die for ever. No, dear lady; if I thought that life being granted to me now was only to make my future dangers greater, I should grieve that I did not rather suffer before this time.

“Life is sweet and to be desired, whilst the hope of becoming good, and doing good in our time, exists. God grant that such hope may be realized in my life! Oh! my dear lady, if by living I could only imitate you more nearly, I should then be full of hope. I feel, however, that temptation will assail me, when I leave this place and enter again into the world. Here I am well taught and well guarded against many temptations. I have many dear friends too, who take such an interest in me, that I am afraid of being vain, though God has shown me I have indeed nothing to be vain of, except it be of such as you, dear lady, who take notice of such a creature as myself.

“Oh! what a happy Sabbath-day has this been to me! I am so thankful that my heart can sing psalms all the day long. I am very grateful for this paper and pen, that I may be able to speak to you, my dear madam, in this way. You taught me to read and write, and these are my great recreations. Pray lend me some good books to read, and if you would let me see some of your own dear writing, it would be a great blessing to me.

“I have now seven years’ confinement to look forward to. Oh! that I may greatly improve my time! Beneath your help, what may I not gain in my prison! It may be some weeks before I see your dear, loved face, as I hear that you are very near increasing your family. I would not have you come into this place at such a time on any account. But, as I am so near you, a word or a message, just to let me know that you, my master, and family are well, would lighten my burden.

“Mr. Ripshaw has promised that I shall have plenty of employment. Work of any sort, you know, dear lady, is always agreeable to me. To be doing nothing is death to me. He tells me, moreover, that if I conduct myself well, he will not fail to represent my case to the magistrates for a shortening of the period of my captivity. I received some hint of this from the chaplains at Bury. You may be sure, dear lady, that I will do all I can to serve Mr. Ripshaw, and to merit the recommendation of the magistrates. I hope your dear children are well. I never was so happy as when nursing Master Roland; I hope I shall see him soon again.

“Pray, dear madam, give my duty to my master, and to the young ladies and gentlemen; and accept the same from your ever grateful servant,

"Margaret Catchpole."

Margaret was true to her good intentions. She became very industrious and trustworthy in the service of Mrs. Ripshaw, the governor’s wife; and made herself useful in every possible way to her new mistress. In fact, she became an invaluable person in the gaol. She exercised a moral influence over those of her own sex who were inmates of the prison, such as no matron could hope to attain.

Her father and brother often came to see her, and occasionally they brought her a luxury which reminded her of the days of liberty – "a harvest cake.”

The reader will not be surprised to learn that Margaret still, sometimes, asked after Will Laud. Her brother could give her but an indifferent account of what he heard of him; one question, however, of most vital import to the still lingering hopes of poor Margaret, namely – "Is he single still?” he could answer in the affirmative. As a set-off against this, she learned that he was still deeply engaged in smuggling transactions.

In the winter of 1797, Margaret lost her father, who was taken off by a bad fever, which at that time raged fiercely in the neighbourhood.

The following letter to her brother Edward speaks her feelings on this event: —

"Ipswich Gaol, December 21st, 1797.

“Dear Edward,

“My sins appear to me doubly great, because they have prevented my fulfilling my duties to my dear father in his illness. They oppress me, because, but for them, I should have found such comfort in being able to wait upon him. Oh that I had wings to fly from this place to Nacton! if only for once to be present at the last duties we can any of us pay to those whom we love. But I cannot come, so I send you this letter. My tears fall upon it, whilst I write it. He was such a dear good old man to us all. Can I ever forget him? Never! You and he both stood near me upon my trial.

“Ah! Edward, I do think my ill-conduct has killed him. He was always so fond of me, that I think he has never recovered the shock of that day. Yet he seemed well, and rejoiced to see me, with the hope of happier and brighter times. But he is gone, and all our grief, dear brother, will be useless. If we continue to walk in the right path, we shall meet him hereafter. We shall go to him; he cannot come to us. Yet, I wish I could join you in the churchyard; but I may not leave the prison for one moment. It is an indulgence no prisoner is allowed. Mr. Ripshaw has promised me that I shall have the afternoon of to-morrow to myself, which I shall employ in reading, and thinking about the burial service.

“Dear old man! he promised to spend Christmas-day with me in my cell. He is in a happier place, where joy and peace will make every day his Christmas. I shall think of you to-morrow at two o’clock. Do you remember, Edward, the evening of our mother’s funeral? Do you remember the stranger’s visit, and that stranger our brother Charles? This melancholy time reminds me of him. You will have a dreary home now. Oh that I had power to make it happier!

“I am glad the Cracknells are still near you, and that they are kind to you; though their misfortunes and mine have kept pace with each other. Never mind, Edward, what cruel people say to you about their prophecies concerning my downfall. They only tell you these things to aggravate you. The time may come when they will impudently say, they prophesied my rise and progress in the world. I hope better days are coming.

“You must come and see me as soon as you can; for I feel at this time very low and sorrowful. So my dear brother, do come and see me, when you are able to spare the time. Pray for me, and I will not cease to do so for you. My dear mistress has promised to send this by an especial messenger. How kind of her to think of one so unworthy as your affectionate sister,

"Margaret Catchpole.”

In the spring of 1798, Edward Catchpole, finding the notoriety his sister had obtained occasioned him much annoyance, left the neighbourhood of Ipswich, and went into Cambridgeshire, where he obtained a situation as shepherd, and was always a respectable character. Poor Margaret felt this loss keenly, though a letter from him now and then cheered her spirits.¹⁰

Her kind friends in Ipswich made her many little presents, which she treasured up against the time she should go out. She hoped it might be in three years. Inquiries were frequently made concerning her conduct, which was uniformly orderly and good. She was the most useful person that Mrs. Ripshaw ever had in the prison.

Margaret never made use of one single shilling of that money which Laud had thrown down for her. She always thought that the time would come when it might be claimed; and looked upon it as a sort of confidential deposit, for which she was answerable. No individual could have acted with more scrupulous and faithful regard.

Time swept on, and Margaret had spent two years of good conduct in the Ipswich gaol. The magistrates had told Mr. Ripshaw they should recommend her at the Midsummer assizes, when she was mentioned in high terms to the Lord Chief Baron. But the crime of horse-stealing still continued, day by day, to be a growing evil; and, as if Margaret was made to feel the consequence of others’ crimes, no mitigation of her sentence was yet granted. It had been injudiciously told her by some friend, who, no doubt, meant it kindly, that an application had been made to the judge for the shortening of the period of her imprisonment. This made her feel very anxious; and it proved a great disappointment to her when she found that the interest made in her behalf was ineffectual. Her mind was unhinged, and her spirit grew restless, anxious, and oppressed. Her mistress observed these symptoms with concern, and dreaded a return of that irritability which had formerly rendered her so miserable.

But where was William Laud? At his old trade. He was deeply concerned in that affair at Dunwich, where William Woodward and Benjamin Lawsey, two boatmen belonging to his majesty’s Customs at Southwold, were beaten and thrown into the sea; and the government offered one hundred pounds reward for the apprehension of any one of the offenders. Forty empty carts were seen by these two men, standing ready for a run, with horses and men in a lane at Dunwich. The reward was offered in the county newspapers of the date of March 2nd, 1799.

Such a system of open fraud was carried on along the whole coast of Norfolk and Suffolk about this time, that the revenue of the kingdom began to suffer severely in the customs. In the month of March of the second year of her imprisonment, Mr. Gooch, officer of excise at Lowestoft, and Mr. Burdell, of Aldborough, seized 880 gallons of gin, belonging to Will Laud and his company; and the evidence brought the affair so clearly home to him that he was taken up and sentenced to be imprisoned one year in the Ipswich gaol, and to pay a fine of one hundred pounds to the king. His property was seized and confiscated; smuggled goods were found upon his premises, and he became a penniless bankrupt, and an inmate of that very prison where the devoted Margaret was suffering on his account.