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point out the man." However, the duke did not do what the letter required, that is, ask him to take a turn with him.

At this second time there was somebody that was with the duke (when I say with him, I don't mean close to him, but) near enough, so as to take notice what passed, in order to apprehend the person, so as to put it beyond all doubt that he was the author of those letters. The duke, and this attendant of his, went out at the west door of the Abbey, in order to go to his coach. Now you will find by-and-bye, in the next letter, that the writer of these letters took notice of this attendant, but was under no apprehension of being watched by any body else; and that will account for those circumstances I am going to mention : as soon as the duke went out of the Abbey, that man, whom the duke had seen at both these places, watched the duke out of the Abbey, and as soon as his grace had passed the door of the Abbey, he went up, hid himself in a corner, concealed from a possibility of being seen by his grace in case he had looked back, and so watched him into his coach. It may be asked, why his grace, upon having such clear conviction in his mind, that that person must be the writer of both the letters, did not apprehend him? his grace will tell you, he did not think himself justified in so doing; he could not reconcile it to his own mind to take up a man, where there was a possibility of his innocence.

Gentlemen, a few days after this, came a third letter to the duke, wrapped up in a very small compass, and directed to his Grace the Duke of Marlborough at his house. You will see, by comparing the direction, that this third letter was wrote by the writer of the first letter: It begins, "My lord, I am fully convinced you had a companion on Sunday." So far it is proved, that the writer of these letters was in the Park on the first Sunday, and saw the duke there; and was in the Abbey on the second Sunday, and saw the duke there; and that it was the same man that the duke saw at both these times." I interpret it as owing to the weakness of human nature: but such proceedings is far from being ingenious, and may produce bad effects, whilst it is impossible to answer the end proposed."-Guarded through all. "You will see me again soon, as it were by accident, and may easily find where I go to; in consequence of which, by being sent to, I shall wait on your grace, but expect to be quite alone, and converse in whispers. You will likewise give your honour, upon meeting, that no part of the conversation shall transpire."-So that you see, as he was guarded before, he was determined to make it impossible to be discovered : if they were to converse in whispers, and to be quite alone, it was impossible for other evidence to rise up against him-"These and the former terms complied with, insure your safety; my revenge, in case of non-compliance, (or any scheme to expose me) will be slower, but not less sure, and strong suspicion the utmost that can possibly ensue upon it."-You see, how artful he had contrived it: he was determined that nothing more than strong suspicion should ever be in evidence against him-" While the chances will be tenfold against you. You will possibly be in doubt after the meeting, but it is quite necessary the outside should be a mask of the in. The family of the BLOODS is not extinct, though they are not in my scheme.”—The word BLOODS is in capital letters. That is a dreadful name? As Felton was the villain who assassinated the Duke of Buckingham, so this is the name of the fellow who seized the Duke of Ormond, and was going

to carry him to Tyburn to execute him, and also who stole the crown out of the Tower of London.

You see, gentlemen, by this third letter, that the duke was to expect to hear something farther from the writer of these letters. It contains no appointment, but leads the duke to expect he shall see the writer again as by accident, and was to observe where he should go to, that the duke might know where to send for him; and that he would come in consequence of being sent for; but when he came to the duke the terms were, to be a secret conversation, not in the presence of a third person, and that too by whispers, and the duke promising, upon his honour, that no part of it should transpire, without which he was not led to think the writer should disclose anything at all. The first letter was dated and received the 29th November, the second received the next week, the third in the second week of December, and the last was some time in April.

The duke waited, expecting to hear farther; but heard nothing more until the middle of April. About the 14th there came a letter to his grace, wrote in a mean hand, but not in imitation of a print hand, as the others were. These are the words of the fourth letter: "To his Grace the Duke of Marlborough.

"May it please your grace; I have reason to believe, that the son of one Barnard, a surveyor in Abingdon-buildings, Westminster, is acquainted with some secrets that nearly concern your safety: his father is now out of town, which will give you an opportunity of questioning more privately. It would be useless to your grace, as well as dangerous to me, to appear more publicly in this affair.-Your sincere friend,

"He frequently goes to Storey's-gate coffee-house."


Gentlemen, the duke sent for Mr. Barnard, the son of Mr. Barnard, according to the directions in that letter. This letter, you will see, bears no date at all; no memorandum, or any thing which could possibly indicate when the letter was sent, or when the duke received it. The duke, when Mr. Barnard came, was sitting in his room; and though upon opening the door of the outer room (which was at three score yards distance from where the duke was,) yet the moment Mr. Barnard entered the room, he was sure that was the man he had seen both in the Park and in the Abbey. Though the duke had no doubt in his own mind on the former circumstances, that the person whom he had seen before was the writer of the first letter, now he was fully convinced that he was the writer of all the letters. The duke was determined the scheme should not so far take effect, as to engage himself upon his honour, that no part of the conversation should transpire; if so, nothing could have prevailed upon him to prosecute: therefore you are not to expect he complied with a conversation in whispers, and a promise on the duke's part, that no part of the conversation should transpire. The third letter will tell you, that the person that entered the room was the writer of all these letters. As soon as he came into the room, the duke took him to the window, and asked him, whether he wanted to speak with him? "No, my lord."—"No, Sir! I have received a letter, which tells me, that you are acquainted with some circumstances that nearly concern my safety."-" Not I, my lord." "This is very surprising, Sir! this is the letter;" and showed him the last letter. Still the duke had not given him any promise at all of not exposing the

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conversation. "Sir, it is very odd that you should be pointed out to me, to acquaint me with some circumstances relating to my safety, because it mentions some circumstances as to the time, the place where you are to be found, your father's being out of town, and the like." The prisoner incautiously said immediately, "My lord, my father was out of town at that time."-" At what time, Sir? The letter bears no date, nor have I mentioned to you a syllable when I received it: how came you to know when I received this letter, that you should tell me, your father was not in town at that time? You speak clearly, as knowing when I received this letter; therefore give me leave on this occasion to tell you, that I do not only suspect you know of this letter, but that you have sent to me some other letters that I have received before" then acquainting him with the other three letters, his grace observing upon them, that it was very odd and strange, that the letters corresponded so exactly and decisively on him, he being always at the places at the time appointed, and that he being the person named in the fourth letter too, and that he knew the time of the duke's receiving that letter, the duke put it upon him, "Sir, I am surprised at the writer of this letter; one should suppose from the style, and its being grammatically wrote, that the person who wrote it, had had some share of education; at least I am surprised that a man that has had any education at all, can descend to such a means of getting money.' 'My lord, your grace need not be surprised at that; a man may be learned and very poor." Very fond was he of softening things. My lord, you need not be affrighted: I dare say the writer of these letters is a very mad man." "Why! you are very much concerned to apologize for the writer hereof," said the duke. Picking out this circumstance, the man does not know me, he expresses his very great surprise at my appearing in the Park with the ensign of my order, and my being armed as incautious as he had been before, he is incautious upon that too, and said, "Indeed I was surprised to see your grace armed." "Was you so?" said the duke. 'Was you surprised to see me armed? Can any man doubt a moment who wrote these letters? But, however, Mr. Barnard, as you insist upon it, and declare so solemnly your innocence, I will not so far invade the laws of hospitality, whatever crime you have done." (He would not for the world apprehend a man in his own house whom he had sent for; he let him go safe home again; it was for that reason he would not give his promise not to reveal the conversation; but in regard to the public he was determined to prosecute.) The duke said to him, "Sir, if you are not the writer of these papers, it much becomes you to find out who is; for your name is particularly mentioned in this last letter; either you are the writer, or allow me to say, somebody else owes you very ill-will that was the writer of them." I am relying merely on the terms of the last letter, wherein he was to inform his grace of things that nearly concerned his safety, so much to the hazard of his own life? What became him, as having a regard to his own reputation and safety? To determine, as far as in his power, to find out the writer; nay to have given the duke assurance that he would do it: instead of that, what was his behaviour? A smile of contempt--an unmannerly laugh in the duke's face, as if it did not concern him at all.

Gentlemen, I should think that to this there can hardly be a circumstance added more clearly to convince any man alive of the circum

stances of this man's being the author of these letters; but you will find afterwards the prisoner (for what reason let him tell if he can) told his grace, he had desired his companion that was with him in Westminster Abbey to leave him: Why? "Because he thought the duke wanted to tell him of some place he had for him." Good God! how could he imagine he wanted to tell him of a place? A person whom he had never seen before he saw him in the Park, how could he expect that? This was his awkward reason for desiring his companion to leave him.

I beg pardon, if I have omitted any thing; these are the circumstances that have occurred to me on this occasion; they are so strong and necessary in the proof of the prisoner's guilt, that I will venture to say, it is much more satisfactory to an indifferent person, than positive testimony-the positive testimony of any man, as men are liable to mistakes, as mistake in time, a mistake in persons, will exceedingly vary the case; but variety of circumstances, which tally in their own nature, cannot lie or deceive.

This prosecution is commenced merely for the sake of justice; I am instructed to say from his grace, it is perfectly indifferent to him what will be the issue of the trial: he thought it his duty to come here, and leave it to his country to determine as they shall think proper."

The evidence, which bore out this address, and which was unshaken by cross-examination, need not be given here; but the extraordinary part of the story is in the prisoner's complete answer to the accusation. In his defence the prisoner merely said, "I am entirely innocent of this affair with which I am charged. I leave it to the Court and the jury, with the evidence that will be produced." He then brought the following testimony.

John Barnard was sworn,

J. Burnard. I ain father to the prisoner at the bar.

What is his employ ?-He is employed in my business as a builder and surveyor principally; in not only that, and drawing plans, but also in receiving great sums of money.

Have his accounts always stood right and clear?-They always have. Do you look upon him to be a sober man?—I have had great reason to believe him such, more particularly lately.

Has he been possessed of large sums of money?-He has, of considerable sums; I have oftener asked him for money than he me.

Had you any occasion to send him to Kensington on Sunday the 4th of December?-I had nothing, but circumstances brought the day to my mind since I gave him an order on that Sunday morning, when we were at breakfast, to go to Kensington, to know whether there was some money paid by the treasurer of the turnpikes for gravel: I have a brother there, named Joseph; he went there and did his business, and dined with my brother.

How do you know that?-Because he told me so; and the solicitor of the turnpike told me he had been with him, and in consequence of which I had my money afterwards.

Have you ever heard your son take any notice of his meeting with the Duke of Marlborough that day?-When he came home, he told me, he had met the Duke of Marlborough, and these circumstances of his grace's taking notice of him; he mentioned it as an extraordinary thing.

I asked him, if he had not looked a little impudently (as he has a near sight) at him, or pulled his glass out?—He said, he saw another gentleman at a distance, and the duke was armed; and he imagined there might be a duel going forward; he has from that time to this mentioned it as a very strange event several times in my house, without any reserve at all.


At the time you sent your son to Kensington on the 4th of December, suppose you had not given him an order to go there, whether he was not at liberty to go where he pleased?—Yes; I never restrain him.

Did he say he was surprised to see the duke without a great coat? I cannot remember that particular.

Did you hear him mention his seeing the Duke of Marlborough in Westminster-Abbey?—I have very often, and very publicly, and with some surprise; as he has that in Hyde-Park. I said to him, I would not have you be public in speaking of things in this kind, lest a use be made of it to your disadvantage.

Thomas Barnard sworn.

T. Barnard. I am first cousin to the prisoner at the bar. On Saturday the 3rd of December I was at Kensington, and lay at my uncle's house there and dined there. On the Sunday the prisoner came there before dinner, he said he had been to do some business that way. He dined with us; there were my uncle, aunt, he and I; he related that circumstance to us of meeting with the Duke of Marlborough in HydePark; he said he rode up to him, and asked if he knew who he was; he answered, No; he replied, I am the Duke of Marlborough. He related it with some cheerfulness, though as a matter of surprise.

How long have you known the prisoner ?-From his birth: he is in business with his father; I always understood he would succeed his father; I never knew him to behave any otherwise than well in my life. I never thought him extravagant, nor never heard so; I had always looked upon him to be an honest man; his father is in very great business.

Should you look upon it, that a small place would be equal to the chance of succeeding his father in his business?—I should never have thought of such a thing; I looked upon his situation in life to be a very extraordinary thing: I thought he would give the preference to that above any thing else.


Do you think he would refuse a good place?—No man would refuse a place that is to his advantage.

Joseph Barnard sworn.

J. Barnard. I am uncle to the prisoner at the bar; I live at Kensington; my nephew, Thomas Barnard, lay at my house on the Saturday night, and dined with the prisoner at the bar on the Sunday. I remember he then mentioned having met with the Duke of Marlborough in Hyde-Park, while we were sitting at dinner. I said I was surprised he should meet with him that day; he said he saw but one gentleman at a distance, and the duke was armed; and his grace looked him full in the face, very earnestly (which he seemed to speak with a great deal of pleasure to me); he is very near-sighted, he can see nothing at a distance without the use of a glass. I have heard him since speak four or five times of seeing the duke in Westminster-Abbey.

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