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Eighteenth Century Waifs
Eighteenth Century Waifs
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Eighteenth Century Waifs

During these years he read the Latin and Greek authors, and obtained such a name for scholarship that he was invited to Knaresborough to keep a school there. He removed thither in the year 1734, and continued there until about six weeks after the murder of Daniel Clark. In the meantime he had mastered Hebrew, and when he went to London he got a situation to teach Latin, and writing, at a school in Piccadilly, kept by a Monsieur Painblanc, who not only gave him a salary, but taught him French. There he remained over two years, then went to Hays as a writing-master, after which he wandered from situation to situation, at one time earning his living by copying for a law-stationer. At last, somehow, he found himself an usher at the Free School at Lynn, where he lived until he was arrested for the murder of Daniel Clark.

This man was a shoemaker at Knaresborough, and was an intimate visitor at Aram’s house – too intimate, indeed, Aram thought, with his wife, hence the reference to his wife previously quoted. He was a man of bad character, and was more than suspected of having, in company of another vagabond named Houseman, murdered a Jew boy, who travelled the country for one Levi as a pedlar, carrying a box containing watches and jewellery. The poor lad was decoyed to a place called Thistle Hill, where he was robbed, murdered, and buried. This was about the year 1744, and his bones were not found until 1758.

Richard Houseman, who was born the same year as Aram, was a near neighbour of the latter’s – in fact, he lived next door, and his occupation was that of a heckler of flax, when he gave out to the women of the village to spin for him. But, according to his own statement, he was a most unscrupulous black-guard.

Another intimate of Aram’s was a publican, named Terry, but he only played a subsidiary part in the drama, and nothing was ever brought home to him.

In January, 1745, Clark married a woman with a small fortune of about two hundred pounds, and, immediately afterwards, this little nest of rogues contrived and carried out the following swindle. Clark, as he was known to have married a woman of some little money, was to obtain goods of any description from whomsoever would part with them on credit; these goods were to be deposited with, and hidden by, Aram and Houseman, and, after plundering all that was possible, Clark was to decamp, and leave his young wife to do the best she could. This was the scheme in which the noble and refined Eugene Aram of Lord Lytton was to, and did, bear his full part.

Velvet from one man, leather from another, whips from a third, table and bed linen from a fourth, money lent by a fifth – all was fish that came to their net; and, when obtained, they were hidden on the premises either of Aram or Houseman, or else in a place called St. Robert’s Cave, which was situated in a field adjoining the Nid, a river near Knaresborough. When this source was thoroughly exploited, a new scheme was hit on by this ‘long firm.’ Clark should pretend to be about to give a great wedding-feast, and he went about gaily, borrowing silver tankards, salvers, salts, spoons, &c., from whoever would lend them. Indeed, so multifarious were his perquisitions, that, according to one contemporary account, he got, among other goods, the following: ‘three silver tankards, four silver pints, one silver milk-pot, one ring set with an emerald, and two brilliant diamonds, another with three rose diamonds, a third with an amethyst in the shape of a heart, and six plain rings, eight watches, two snuff-boxes, Chambers’ Dictionary, two vols. folio, Pope’s “Homer,” six vols., bound.’

Having got all that could be got, it was now high time that Clark should disappear. He was last seen on the early morning of the 8th February, 1745, and from that time until August 1, 1758, nothing was heard of him. He was supposed to have gone away with all his booty – and yet not all of it, for suspicion was aroused that both Aram and Houseman, from their intimacy with Clark, were accomplices in his frauds. And so it clearly proved, for, on Aram’s house being searched, several articles were found the produce of their joint roguery, and in his garden were found buried, cambric and other goods, wrapped in coarse canvas. Still, neither he, nor Houseman, nor Terry were prosecuted,24 but Aram thought it prudent to change his residence; so one fine day he left his wife and family, and wandered forth. We have seen the roving life he led, restless, and always changing his abode; yet, during those thirteen years of shifting exile, it must be said, to his credit, that no breath of scandal attached to him; he was studious, somewhat morose, yet he was so liked by the boys at the grammar-school at Lynn, that, when he was taken thence by the officers of justice, they cried at losing him.

Whilst at Lynn, he was recognised in June, 1758, by a horse-dealer, and this recognition eventually led to his apprehension; for, during that summer, a labourer, digging for stone or gravel at a place called Thistle Hill, near Knaresborough, found, at the depth of two feet, a skeleton, which appeared to have been buried doubled up. The remembrance of Clark’s disappearance was at once awakened, and the body was set down as being his.

A country town has a keen recollection of anything which has occurred disturbing its equal pace, and the connection of Aram and Houseman with Clark was duly remembered. Aram was away, but Houseman still lived among them, and he was ordered by the coroner to attend the inquest. The principal witness was Anna Aram, Eugene’s wife, and she had frequently, since her husband’s departure, dropped hints of her suspicion that Clark had been murdered. Her evidence is clear. She said that Daniel Clark was an intimate acquaintance of her husband’s, and that they had frequent transactions together before the 8th of February, 1744-5, and that Richard Houseman was often with them; particularly that, on the 7th of February, 1744-5, about six o’clock in the evening, Aram came home when she was washing in the kitchen, upon which he directed her to put out the fire, and make one above stairs; she accordingly did so. About two o’clock in the morning of the 8th of February, Aram, Clark, and Houseman came to Aram’s house, and went upstairs to the room where she was. They stayed about an hour. Her husband asked her for a handkerchief for Dickey (meaning Richard Houseman) to tie about his head; she accordingly lent him one. Then Clark said, ‘It will soon be morning, and we must get off.’ After which Aram, Houseman, and Clark all went out together; that, upon Clark’s going out, she observed him take a sack or wallet upon his back, which he carried along with him; whither they went she could not tell. That about five o’clock the same morning her husband and Houseman returned, but Clark did not come with them. Her husband came upstairs, and desired to have a candle that he might make a fire below. To which she objected, and said, ‘There was no occasion for two fires, as there was a good one in the room above, where she then was.’ To which Aram, her husband, answered, ‘Dickey’ (meaning Richard Houseman) ‘was below, and did not choose to come upstairs.’ Upon which she asked (Clark not returning with them), ‘What had they done with Daniel?’ To this her husband gave her no answer, but desired her to go to bed, which she refused to do, and told him, ‘They had been doing something bad.’ Then Aram went down with the candle.

She, being desirous to know what her husband and Houseman were doing, and being about to go downstairs, she heard Houseman say to Aram,

‘She is coming.’

Her husband replied, ‘We’ll not let her.’

Houseman then said, ‘If she does, she’ll tell.’

‘What can she tell?’ replied Aram. ‘Poor simple thing! she knows nothing.’

To which Houseman said, ‘If she tells that I am here, ‘twill be enough.’

Her husband then said, ‘I will hold the door to prevent her from coming.’

Whereupon Houseman said, ‘Something must be done to prevent her telling,’ and pressed him to it very much, and said, ‘If she does not tell now, she may at some other time.’

‘No,’ said her husband, ‘we will coax her a little until her passion be off, and then take an opportunity to shoot her.’

Upon which Houseman appeared satisfied and said, ‘What must be done with her clothes?’ Whereupon they both agreed that they would let her lie where she was shot in her clothes.

She, hearing this discourse, was much terrified, but remained quiet, until near seven o’clock in the same morning, when Aram and Houseman went out of the house. Upon which Mrs. Aram, coming down-stairs, and seeing there had been a fire below and all the ashes taken out of the grate, she went and examined the dung-hill; and, perceiving ashes of a different kind to lie upon it, she searched amongst them, and found several pieces of linen and woollen cloth, very near burnt, which had the appearance of belonging to wearing apparel. When she returned into the house from the dung-hill, she found the handkerchief she had lent Houseman the night before; and, looking at it, she found some blood upon it, about the size of a shilling. Upon which she immediately went to Houseman, and showed him the pieces of cloth she had found, and said ‘she was afraid they had done something bad to Clark.’ But Houseman then pretended he was a stranger to her accusation, and said ‘he knew nothing what she meant.’

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1

It may be objected that this story pertains more to the seventeenth than the eighteenth century; but, as the man Roderick was alive in the last century, I claim him as belonging to it.

2

‘The History of St. Kilda,’ etc. By the Rev. Mr. Kenneth Macaulay. London, 1764.

3

‘Description of the Western Isles of Scotland, called Hebrides,’ etc.

4

Harris.

5

Scottice, are without.

6

‘A Late Voyage to St. Kilda, the Remotest of all the Hebrides,’ etc., London, 1698.

7

Head-dress.

8

Venus, her lap dog.

9

A game at cards introduced into France by Signor Justiniani, Ambassador of Venice in 1674. The players are the dealer or banker, his assistant, who looks after the losing cards – a croupier, in fact – and the punters, or anyone who plays against the banker.

10

To understand the numerous allusions to the game of cards called Quadrill, it is necessary that the principles of the game should be given. It was played by four persons, each having ten cards dealt to them.

The general laws of this game are, 1. It is not permitted to deal the cards otherwise than four by three, the dealer being at liberty to begin with which of those numbers he pleases. 2. If he who plays either sans prendre, or calling a king, names a trump of a different suit from that his game is in, or names two several suits, that which he first named must be the trump. 3. He who plays must name the trump by its proper name, as he likewise must the king he calls. 4. He who has said ‘I pass,’ must not be again admitted to play, except he plays by force, upon account of his having Spadille. 5. He who has asked the question, and has leave given him to play, is obliged to do it: but he must not play sans prendre except he is forced to do it. 6. He who has the four kings may call the queen of either of his kings. 7. Neither the king nor queen of the suit which is trumps must be called. 8. He who has one or several kings may call any king he has in his hand; in such case, if he wins, he alone must make six tricks; if he wins, it is all his own, and if he loses, he pays all by himself. 9. Everyone ought to play in his turn, but for having done otherwise, no one must be beasted. 10. He, however, whose turn is not to play, having in his hand the king the ombre has called, and who shall tramp about with either spadille, manille, or basto, or shall even play down the king that was called, to give notice of his being the friend, must not pretend to undertake the vole; nay, he must be condemned to be beasted if it appears that he did it with any fraudulent design. 11. He who has drawn a card from his game, and presented it openly in order to play it, is obliged so to do, if his retaining it may be either prejudicial to his game, or give any information to his friend, especially if the card is a matadore; but he who plays sans prendre, or calls upon his own king, is not subject to this law. 12. None ought to look upon the tricks, nor to count aloud what has been played, except when it is his turn to play, but to let everyone reckon for himself. 13. He who, instead of turning up the tricks before any one of his players, shall turn up and discover his game, must be equally beasted with him whose cards he has so discovered, the one paying one half, and the other the like. 14. He who renounces must be beasted, as many times as he has so done, but, if the cards are mixed, he is to pay but one beast. 15. If the renounce prejudices the game, and the deal is not played out, everyone may take up his cards, beginning at the trick where the renounce was made, and play them over again. 16. He who shows the game before the deal is out must be beasted, except he plays sans prendre. 17. None of the three matadores can be commanded down by an inferior trump. 18. If he who plays sans prendre with the matadores in his hand, demands only one of them, he must receive only that he mentioned. 19. He who, instead of sans prendre, shall demand matadores, not having them, or he who shall demand sans prendre instead of matadores, cannot compel the players to pay him what is really his due. 20. Matadores are only paid when they are in the hands of the ombre, or of the king his ally, whether all in one hand, or separately in both. 21. He who undertakes the vole, and does not make it, must pay as much as he would have received had he won it. 22. He who plays and does not make three tricks is to be beasted alone, and must pay all that is to be paid; and, if he makes no tricks at all, he must also pay to his two adversaries the vole, but not to his friend.’ —The Oxford Encyclopædia, 1828.

11

Dressing-gown.

12

Entendres.

13

Wonders.

14

These leaden combs were used for darkening the hair.

15

Pulled down 1885.

16

Forsitan et nostros ducat de marmore vultus Nectens aut Paphia myrti aut Parnasside lauri Fronde comas – At ego secura pace quiescam. Milton in Manso.

17

John Speed, the historian, died 1629, and was buried in the church of St. Giles’, Cripplegate.

18

The few hairs of a lighter colour, are supposed to have been such as had grown on the sides of the cheeks after the corpse had been interred.

19

‘MDCLV. May vi, died my (now) only and eldest son, John Smith (Proh Dolor, beloved of all men!) at Mitcham in Surrey. Buried May ix in St. Giles, Cripplegate.’

20

Edward Philips or Phillips, in his life of Milton, attached to ‘Letters of State, written by Mr. John Milton,’ &c., London, 1694, (p. 43), says: ‘He is said to have dyed worth £1,500 in Money (a considerable Estate, all things considered), besides Household Goods; for he sustained such losses as might well have broke any person less frugal and temperate than himself; no less than £2,000 which he had put for Security and Improvement into the Excise Office, but, neglecting to recal it in time, could never after get it out, with all the Power and Interest he had in the Great ones of those Times; besides another great Sum by mismanagement and for want of good advice.’

21

Thomas Newton, Bishop of Bristol, thus writes in his life of Milton, prefixed to his edition of ‘Paradise Lost,’ London, 1749: ‘His body was decently interred near that of his father (who had died very aged about the year 1647) in the chancel of the church of St. Giles, Cripplegate; and all his great and learned friends in London, not without a friendly concourse of the common people, paid their last respects in attending it to the grave. Mr. Fenton, in his short but elegant account of the life of Milton, speaking of our author’s having no monument, says that “he desired a friend to inquire at St. Giles’s Church, where the sexton showed him a small monument, which he said was supposed to be Milton’s; but the inscription had never been legible since he was employed in that office, which he has possessed about forty years. This sure could never have happened in so short a space of time, unless the epitaph had been industriously erased; and that supposition, says Mr. Fenton, carries with it so much inhumanity that I think we ought to believe it was not erected to his memory.” It is evident that it was not erected to his memory, and that the sexton was mistaken. For Mr. Toland, in his account of the life of Milton, says that he was buried in the chancel of St. Giles’s Church, “where the piety of his admirers will shortly erect a monument becoming his worth, and the encouragement of letters in King William’s reign.” This plainly implies that no monument was erected to him at that time, and this was written in 1698, and Mr. Fenton’s account was first published, I think, in 1725; so that not above twenty-seven years intervened from the one account to the other; and consequently the sexton, who it is said was possessed of his office about forty years, must have been mistaken, and the monument must have been designed for some other person, and not for Milton.’

22

Between the creditable trades of pawnbroker and dram-seller there is a strict alliance. As Hogarth observes, the money lent by Mr. Gripe is immediately conveyed to the shop of Mr. Killman, who, in return for the produce of rags, distributes poison under the specious name of cordials. See Hogarth’s celebrated print called Gin Lane.

23

Probably in the month of September, as the entry of his baptism in the registry of the chapelry of Middlesmoor, in Netherdale, says ‘Eugenius Aram, son of Peter Aram, baptized the 2nd of October.’

24

Though no warrants were issued against them, Aram was arrested for debt, in order to keep him; yet he immediately discharged this debt – not only so, he paid off a mortgage on his property at Bondgate. Suspicious facts, considering he was, notably, a poor man.

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