Quote of the Day: Warmth often matters more than certainty

“A sweater at twilight carries more comfort than certainty ever could.”
— The Sage

The Sage has always preferred simple comforts to rigid assurances. As daylight fades and twilight settles in, the world grows softer at the edges. Questions that felt urgent at noon lose their sharpness, and the need for definite answers quietens. In such moments, he notes, warmth often matters more than certainty.

He observes that certainty can be heavy. It demands defence, explanation, and proof. Comfort, by contrast, asks very little. A sweater pulled around the shoulders at dusk does not promise solutions; it simply offers steadiness. The Sage finds that in twilight — that gentle in-between — people rarely need clarity as much as they need calm.

With his characteristic softness, The Sage reminds us that not every evening requires conclusions. Sometimes it is enough to sit with the fading light, wrapped in something warm, carrying no more than the day has already given. Certainty may shout in daylight — but at twilight, comfort speaks more wisely.

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Quote of the Day: Squandering Brilliance

“Brilliance is wasted when you treat people like dolls and life like a shareholders’ meeting.”
— The Sage

The Sage has always been wary of systems that measure everything but understand very little. When people are reduced to figures, roles, or assets, something essential is lost. To treat a person like a doll — positioned, adjusted, and displayed — is to overlook their agency, complexity, and quiet unpredictability. And brilliance, he suggests, cannot thrive in such tidy arrangements.

He observes that modern life often resembles a shareholders’ meeting: performance reviewed, value calculated, outcomes scrutinised. There is nothing inherently wrong with accountability, The Sage admits — but when every interaction becomes transactional, creativity begins to wither. Brilliance requires room, trust, and the freedom to exist without constant appraisal.

With gentle but pointed humour, The Sage reminds us that true brilliance emerges when people are treated not as assets to manage, but as minds to respect. Dolls may be arranged and shareholders may vote — but brilliance grows only where humanity is allowed to breathe.

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Advice of the Day: Selfie Geometry

“Hold the camera higher than your expectations.”

– The Sage

The Sage has studied many things in his long life — stars, storms, supermarket reductions — and now, reluctantly, camera angles. His advice for taking a selfie is rooted in simple physics: “Hold the camera higher than your expectations.”

According to The Sage, gravity is not your friend. It drags, it shadows, it reveals truths you did not request. By lifting the camera just above eye level, you restore order. Features realign. Light behaves. Optimism returns. The Sage insists that angle is everything — character is optional.

He does warn against excess. Raise the phone too high and you become a confused ceiling ornament. Too low and you summon dramatic lighting worthy of a ghost story. But just high enough? That is balance. That is wisdom. That is the difference between “Oh dear” and “That’ll do.”

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This Day in History: 24 February 1790 — James East, William Wilson, and the Black Horse Burglary

On 24 February 1790, James East and William Wilson stood before the Old Bailey, charged with burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of George Wood in Kingsland Road.

They had stolen not gold, nor jewels —

—but spirits.

They were found guilty.

They were sentenced to death.

The Black Horse, Kingsland Road

George Wood kept the Black Horse in Kingsland Road.

On the night of 22 January, his house was carefully secured. Heavy shutters. Bolts top and bottom. A movable inner bar shutter that only he could lift.

At half past two in the morning, the watchman raised the alarm.

Wood discovered:

  • Outside shutter smashed
  • Window sash raised
  • Four rows of bricks removed beneath the window
  • Inner shutter taken down from inside

A man-sized hole had been cut into the wall.

Inside, a street-lamp burner lay discarded.

The Spoils

The theft was extraordinary in its variety:

  • Brandy
  • Rum
  • Aniseed
  • Peppermint
  • Bitters
  • Raspberry
  • Cholick water
  • Seven casks
  • Five china punch bowls
  • Linen, worsted, apron strings
  • 168 copper halfpence
  • 336 copper farthings

The value of spirits alone exceeded several pounds.

This was no opportunistic theft.

It was organised burglary.

The Lamp and the Crow

Accomplice William Lister testified that East:

  • Broke the outer shutter with a crow
  • Removed bricks from beneath the window
  • Entered through the hole
  • Took down the inner shutter
  • Stole lamp burners from nearby street lamps to light the bar

The image is almost theatrical: thieves stealing light from the street to illuminate their crime.

Spirits were passed out of the window and carried across a field.

Some linen and small goods were sold for eightpence.

Five china bowls were sold for four shillings.

The casks were moved from house to house in Hackney Road and Golden Lane.

Here is his full testimony:

WILLIAM LISTER sworn.

On Friday night, the 22d of January, James East and William Wilson and me were drinking together at the Gentleman and Porter, which Webb keeps: we came out of there about half after eleven at night: the women were in company; but they went forwards: William Wilson and me and James East , went to East’s house, about an hundred yards from the Black Horse, which was broke open; we staid there about half an hour or an hour: we went together to Mr. Wood’s. East took a crow from his pocket, and broke a piece of the outside shutter of the bar window, and then put up his arm, and unbolted the bolt of the outside shutters, and broke a pane of glass, to hoist up the sash: Wilson broke the pane of glass, with the same crow; the sash was fastened so that we could not open it: East took the crow and made a hole through the wall, and got in through the hole underneath the frame, and took down the inside shutter of the bar window, and placed it against the bar door: he hoisted up the sash, and came out from the inside: we crossed the road all three together; we had no light: East got up the lamp post, and took the burner out alight: he came back to the window, and delivered the burner into my hand; and afterwards, East got in; nobody else: East took the burner out, and we all went together to another lamp, and took the glass and burner both alight: then we all came back to the window with the glass lamp, and the burner alight in it: East gave it into my hand, while he got in at the window; he handed out a small basket with some linen in, and tape and worsted; and then handed out the till with some halfpence: the halfpence were emptied into Wilson’s pocket, and the till left the outside of the window: East came out of the window, and we all three took the things into the field facing the house: we moved them out of the field, up to Wilson’s house: we only just rested in the field: Wilson’s house was just across the field. The small trifle of linen was sold to Wilson’s wife for eight-pence: we took the seven kegs of liquor down to one Lewis’s in Hackney-road; Wilson’s wife and Mary brought the five china bowls down to Lewis’s, in the morning: I was there then: afterwards, Wilson’s wife and Mary Linton took each a cask apiece from Lewis’s, and the five china bowls: Wilson’s wife carried the bowls: I followed them down; they took them to the house of one Mr. Handfield; we were all in there together: East went backwards to Mr. Handfield, and asked him some questions which I do not know: we went to Handfield’s to try to sell the goods: then East came back to us into the tap-room, and said that Mr. Handfield would have nothing to do with them: then we all came out together, and went from thence to Golden-lane, to the prisoner Mackaway’s; the two women brought each one cask and the five bowls away: we left the other two bowls at Lewis’s: we all went into Mackaway’s entry; and East and I took the two casks and the five bowls from the women, and left them at the door, and Wilson with them: we saw Mrs. Mackaway, and told her we had seven casks of liquor in the whole; she would say nothing to them; East and I left the two casks of liquor at Mrs. Mackaway’s house, and sold the two bowls to her for four shillings; she told us to leave the two casks till the others were brought up at night: for she would give us no answer till her mother came from Woolwich: the five china bowls we sold to Mrs. Mackaway’s daughter for four shillings; we left the two casks there; then we came out, and Wilson and his wife and Linton went one way, and East and me went another way: and in less than a quarter of an hour, going through Play-house-yard, East and me were taken: I was buying a pair of old shoes at a clothes shop: I have nothing to say against the woman Ann East ; she had nothing to do with this robbery: I cannot tell what became of the rest of the casks that were left at Lewis’s: Lewis keeps a smith’s shop in Hackney-road; they were put in an empty room before he was up in the morning; the door of which was open: I never was in East’s apartments, nor do I know who lived there.

Jury. Whether when he was at Mackaway’s it was an absolute sale, or was it a loan? – They were sold to her: East asked her five, and she would give but four.

Was not it a contract to bring the rest of the things? – No; she gave us four shillings for the five bowls; nothing else.

The Receivers

Four women were indicted for receiving stolen goods:

  • Mary Mackaway
  • Mary Linton
  • Ann East
  • Jane Wilson

Goods were found concealed in gardens and under bedding.

An iron crow covered in brick dust was produced.

Mary Linton (aged 20) and Ann East (aged 17) were convicted and sentenced to fourteen years transportation to New South Wales in January 1791.

Mary Mackaway and Jane Wilson were acquitted.

The Verdict

James East (aged 28)
William Wilson (aged 19)

GUILTY. Death.

The Bloody Code remained unforgiving toward burglary committed at night.

Breaking into a dwelling-house after dark was a capital felony.

Night Burglary Under the Bloody Code

By 1790, more than 160 offences carried the death penalty.

Night burglary was treated as particularly dangerous:

  • It violated domestic security
  • It implied potential violence
  • It threatened property and life

Even theft of spirits and household goods could bring the gallows if committed by breaking and entering after dark.

Transportation to New South Wales

The two young women convicted were transported in January 1791.

This was only a few years after the establishment of the penal colony at New South Wales (1788).

Unlike earlier convicts sent to America, these women were among the early waves sent to Australia — to a penal experiment still in its infancy.

Transportation meant:

  • Years of forced labour
  • Permanent exile
  • Often no return

Money Then & Now

Thirty shillings of brandy, twenty of rum, plus multiple casks — the spirits alone represented several months’ wages for a labourer.

Five china punch bowls valued at thirty shillings suggest the Black Horse was no humble alehouse.

In modern purchasing power, the total value likely equates to several thousand pounds.

Yet the bowls were sold for only four shillings.

Desperation discounts heavily.

Why This Case Matters

The Black Horse burglary reveals:

  • Organised urban theft networks
  • The role of accomplice testimony
  • The importance of receivers in criminal economies
  • The brutal sentencing framework of the Bloody Code
  • The early use of Australian transportation

It is also a reminder that capital punishment often fell upon the young.

Wilson was nineteen.

Ann East was seventeen.

Sources

  • Old Bailey Proceedings, 24 February 1790, trial of James East and William Wilson
  • Transportation record, January 1791

Historical Footnote: What Became of William Lister?

One curious footnote to the Black Horse burglary concerns William Lister, the accomplice whose testimony secured the convictions of James East and William Wilson.

Lister was not sentenced in 1790. His detailed account of the burglary suggests he had turned King’s evidence — a common eighteenth-century practice in which an accomplice testified for the Crown in exchange for pardon or non-prosecution.

Yet five years later, on 14 January 1795, a man of the same name and plausible age (34) appeared again at the Old Bailey — this time convicted of stealing a watch and sentenced to seven years’ transportation.

There is no definitive proof this was the same William Lister.

But the chronology fits.

If so, the man who avoided the gallows in 1790 ultimately shared the fate of the transported women he had helped convict.

Mercy in the eighteenth century was often temporary.

What Ship Might He Have Sailed On? (1795–1796)

By 1795, transportation no longer meant America.

Convicts were sent to New South Wales, where the penal colony at Sydney Cove had been established only seven years earlier (1788).

Convict ships departing in 1795–1796 included vessels of what historians often call the Third Fleet and subsequent early transports.

Ships sailing in this period included:

  • The Surprize (1794–95 voyage)
  • The Indispensable (1796)
  • The Marquis Cornwallis (1796)
  • The Britannia (1797, slightly later)

Seven-year male convicts sentenced in early 1795 were commonly held:

  • In gaols or prison hulks on the Thames
  • For several months
  • Before embarkation

The voyage to New South Wales typically lasted:

  • 6 to 8 months
  • Under harsh and cramped conditions
  • With significant mortality rates in earlier fleets (though improving by mid-1790s)

If this was the same William Lister:

He likely would have:

  • Been transferred to a Thames hulk in 1795
  • Embarked in 1795 or 1796
  • Arrived at Sydney Cove during the colony’s formative, difficult years

Upon arrival, seven-year convicts were typically assigned to:

  • Government labour gangs
  • Private settlers
  • Construction, agriculture, or timber work

By around 1802, his term would have expired — assuming survival.

The Irony

If the 1790 accomplice and the 1795 convict were indeed the same man, his story becomes quietly tragic:

  • 1790: Helps send others to death and transportation.
  • 1795: Sentenced himself.
  • Destination: The same penal system he once helped enforce.

The eighteenth-century criminal world was fluid.

Today’s witness could be tomorrow’s transport.

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This Day in History: 21 February 1787 — Charles Shaw and the Robbery at St Paul’s

On 21 February 1787, Charles Shaw stood before the Old Bailey, charged with feloniously assaulting John Hughes on the King’s highway and stealing his watch and personal effects.

He was found guilty.

He was sentenced to death.

He was hanged at Newgate Prison on 26 April 1787.

The Victim: A Ship Caulker Abroad in the City

John Hughes, a ship caulker of Ratcliffe Cross, had been to Chelsea earlier that day to receive rent.

At about seven in the evening, he was walking near the south side of St Paul’s Cathedral, near St Paul’s Churchyard and the Old Change.

He was accompanied by Jane Winter and her young child.

As they passed through Watling Street and crossed towards Ludgate Hill, Hughes was suddenly tripped.

“I had my heels tripped up… and he took my watch out of my pocket.”

He fell against the iron rails of a cellar window, losing his breath.

The Theft

The items taken were substantial:

  • A silver watch, valued at 40 shillings
  • A steel chain
  • Two seals
  • A silver-mounted cane

Forty shillings represented a considerable sum — roughly two pounds — a significant amount for a working man.

Hughes felt the watch being drawn from his pocket.

He cried out immediately.

When he struggled to his feet, he seized Shaw by the collar.

“I never quitted my hold till he was in custody.”

Shaw attempted to wrest the silver-mounted cane from him as they grappled.

Assistance came quickly.

He was taken into Mr Holland’s oil shop.

Was He Drunk?

The defence leaned heavily on Hughes’ condition.

Had he been drinking?

Hughes admitted to perhaps “a glass of punch,” but insisted he was compos mentis.

Jane Winter testified he was “rather in liquor,” but sober enough to know what had happened.

The constable agreed: “very little in liquor.”

The jury clearly accepted that he knew his watch had been taken.

Here is John Hughes’ actual Testimony:

“I live at Ratcliffe-cross; I am a ship caulker ; I was robbed on the 21st of February, on the fouth side of St. Paul’s church-yard , within two doors of St. Paul’s chain; as I was going from Watling-street towards Ludgate-hill, about seven on Wednesday evening; I had my heels tripped up, by I believe the prisoner at the bar, and some more that were with him; I do not know whether the prisoner or his accomplices tripped up my heels; I cannot say how many were with him; I know there was more than himself; he fell upon me; I felt some person or persons upon me, and he took my watch out of my pocket; as soon as I felt my watch go out of my pocket, I called out; I felt him draw my watch out of my pocket; it was a silver watch; there was a steel chain and seals, as described in the indictment; I have never seen the watch since; when I found the watch go, I cried out, and the prisoner attempted to take my cane; my cane was mounted with silver; I cried out, you have got my watch; the prisoner strove to wrestle the cane out of my hand; I held fast, and got up by this time, and seized him by the collar; I never quitted my hold till he was in custody; when I seized him by the collar he wrestled for the cane; before I got up the watch was drawn from me; I cannot say whether I was on my legs or down when I collared him; assistance came immediately and seized him; it was a woman named Jane Winter that was with me; he was taken into a gentleman’s shop named Holland; and they sent for Mr. Stretton; I cannot tell how many men there were; I had such a fall on the iron rails; I fell on my short ribs, and it deprived me of my breath.

The prisoner never got away after you collared him? – No, Sir, I will be bound if I collared him he would not get away from me.

Did he? – No, he did not.

Had you been any where that day? – I had been to Chelsea receiving some rent.

Had you been drinking? – I might have been drinking a glass of punch, but I was compos mentis; I was in a state of mind that I knew how to take care of myself very well if I had not been interrupted by these rascals.

Do you recollect when you last saw your watch? – Yes, I recollect very well I saw it about three o’clock; I am sensible.

I had the watch in my pocket at the time I was tripped up; I did not see it after three, but I saw the trinkets afterwards.“

Here is the Prisoner’s Defence:

“I was coming along the back of St. Paul’s, this gentleman was so much in liquor that he ran against me; he fell to the ground, and said, I had robbed him of his watch and cane; he found his cane under him; he took me into a gentleman’s house and searched me; there was no watch found about me; I am in the butchering way; and I could have sent for some witnesses if it had not been Saturday.

Are you an apprentice? – No, Sir; I only work along with them as a journeyman with my father.“

The Missing Watch

No watch was found upon Shaw when searched.

He claimed Hughes had simply fallen against him.

But the prior jostling by multiple men, the tripping, and the attempt to seize the cane told another story.

Jane Winter was firm:

“He never lost sight of him after the dispute about the cane.”

Verdict and Sentence

The London Jury returned:

Guilty.

The sentence:

Death.

Charles Shaw was executed at Newgate Prison on 26 April 1787.

Highway Robbery in the City

Robbery “on the King’s highway” was among the gravest offences under the eighteenth-century Bloody Code.

Even without murder, violent theft in public streets could carry a capital sentence.

St Paul’s Churchyard, though central and well-trafficked, was no guarantee of safety after dark.

Urban robbery was treated as a threat to public order itself.

Money Then & Now

Hughes’ silver watch was valued at 40 shillings (£2).

In 1787:

  • £2 could equal several weeks’ wages for a labouring man
  • A skilled tradesman might earn 12–15 shillings per week

In modern equivalent purchasing power:

  • Roughly £250–£350 today

A watch was not a mere ornament. It was a valuable possession and symbol of reliability.

Why This Case Matters

The Shaw case illustrates:

  • The severity of eighteenth-century robbery law
  • The role of bystander testimony in street crime
  • The importance of immediate accusation
  • The thin line between drunken misfortune and violent assault

It also shows how quickly the justice system could move:

Robbed in February.
Executed in April.

The city offered little mercy.

Sources

  • Old Bailey Proceedings, 21 February 1787, trial of Charles Shaw
  • Execution record, 26 April 1787

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Advice of the Day: Dog Walking Authority

“Let the dog choose the route — you’re just there for company.”

– The sage

The Sage has long understood that walking a dog is not about discipline, structure, or carefully planned routes. His advice today recognises the true hierarchy of the pavement: “Let the dog choose the route — you’re just there for company.”

According to The Sage, the dog possesses superior knowledge of lampposts, hedges, and mysterious scents that demand urgent investigation. Interfering only delays the inevitable. By surrendering direction entirely, you conserve energy and maintain the illusion of partnership, even if you’re technically being dragged towards a bush for the third time.

The Sage also notes that allowing the dog to lead adds excitement. You may discover new streets, unexpected fields, or someone else’s front garden. True wisdom, he insists, is accepting that on a dog walk, you are not the leader — you are the assistant.

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Quote of the Day: A quiet night in

“A quiet night in is not missing out — it is catching up with yourself.”
— The Sage

The Sage has always believed that silence has been unfairly underrated. In a world that equates movement with meaning and noise with importance, a quiet night can feel suspiciously unproductive. Yet he notes that some of the most necessary conversations we ever have are the ones we conduct inwardly — away from crowds, away from obligation, and away from the need to perform.

He observes that staying in is often mistaken for absence. Invitations declined, plans postponed, lights dimmed early — these can appear like retreat. But The Sage insists that withdrawal is not the same as loneliness. A quiet evening offers something rare: the opportunity to listen to one’s own thoughts without interruption or applause.

With gentle humour, he reminds us that catching up with oneself is long overdue for most people. The world will still be noisy tomorrow. For tonight, peace is not avoidance — it is maintenance. And sometimes, the best company available is the one already at home.

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This Day in History: 20 February 1771 — Richard Mortis and the Moonlight Ambush

On 20 February 1771, Richard Mortis stood before the Old Bailey charged with willfully and maliciously shooting Thomas Parkinson, the younger.

The jury found him guilty.

He was sentenced to death.

He was hanged on 27 March 1771.

The Background: Poaching and Resentment

Thomas Parkinson, junior, was the son of a steward managing estates in Hertfordshire for Lord Salisbury and Lord Monson.

He had previously laid an information against Mortis for poaching.

That grievance did not fade.

A fortnight before the shooting, a witness heard Mortis declare:

“I wish I had known before he had gone, I would have bestowed a week’s time on him, but I would have killed him before he had gone.”

He reportedly added that had he known Parkinson would inform against him, he would have “cleft him down” with his axe.

The motive was clear.

The Night of 29 December

On the evening of 29 December, Parkinson had been shooting with companions and later stopped at the Bull Inn near Brompton.

Mortis followed him throughout the day.

He entered the inn shortly after Parkinson and sat apart.

Nothing was said between them.

When Parkinson left for home, about a mile and a half distant, Mortis went ahead of him.

It was, Parkinson testified, “a remarkable moonlight night.”

At a gate near a grove, Parkinson saw Mortis waiting.

They walked together through fields. Mortis forced conversation about hares and partridges.

At one stile, Parkinson heard what he described as the “snick of a gun.”

Mortis agreed — perhaps an owl, he suggested.

Moments later, as Parkinson reached another gate:

Mortis fired.

The Shooting

Parkinson testified:

“The prisoner fired at me: I reeled a little: I looked up and saw the pistol in his hand.”

He was shot in the neck and shoulder at close range.

Mortis allegedly cried:

“There, d—n you, take that,”

and swore repeatedly.

Parkinson fled, pursued by Mortis, and reached the house of Richard Cawdell.

Witnesses described him as “in a very bloody condition.”

Surgeons later extracted numerous small shot from his neck, shoulder, mouth and tongue.

The wound narrowly missed the jugular vein.

Had the shot struck slightly differently, the surgeon said, death would have been certain.

Arrest

A group of men set out and found Mortis at home, dressed and ready.

He denied everything.

No pistol was found.

But the prior threat, the pursuit, the proximity, and the wound were compelling.

The Defence

Mortis claimed innocence.

He said he had been hunting with Parkinson the previous day and had no firearms.

But the earlier threat to kill, testified by William Spencer, weighed heavily.

Verdict and Sentence

The jury returned:

Guilty.

The sentence:

Death.

Richard Mortis was executed on 27 March 1771.

Poaching and the Law

In eighteenth-century England, poaching was not merely rural trespass.

Game laws protected the rights of landowners and aristocrats. Informers who prosecuted poachers often became targets of resentment.

Violence arising from poaching disputes was not uncommon — but shooting an informer elevated the matter to capital crime.

Why This Case Matters

The Mortis case reveals:

  • The volatility of rural class tension
  • The severity of eighteenth-century capital law
  • The fragility of life in isolated countryside settings
  • The importance of prior threat evidence in criminal trials

It also demonstrates how thin the line was between attempted murder and murder itself.

A few inches spared Parkinson’s life.

Mortis was not spared his own.

Capital Punishment in 1771

In 1771, England’s “Bloody Code” was still in full force.

More than 160 offences were technically punishable by death.

Attempted murder by shooting clearly fell within that framework.

Execution at Tyburn remained a public spectacle.

Sources

  • Old Bailey Proceedings, 20 February 1771, trial of Richard Mortis
  • Execution record, 27 March 1771

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This Day in History: 18 February 1775 — John Smith and the Fatal Return

On 18 February 1775, John Smith stood once more before the Old Bailey.

He had already escaped the gallows once.

Now he was on trial for doing the one thing the law most feared:
Returning from transportation before the expiration of his term.

He was found guilty.

He was sentenced to death.

The First Crime: Highway Robbery

Smith’s troubles had begun at the Maidstone Summer Assizes, 1773, where he was tried for a highway robbery committed against William Love, described as an old Greenwich College man.

Robert Stephens, turnkey of Maidstone Gaol, testified:

“He was found guilty and received judgment of death.”

Smith was confined seven or eight months.

But like many capital convicts of the era, he received a conditional reprieve.

His sentence of death was commuted on condition that he be:

Transported for fourteen years.

Stephens recalled telling him plainly:

“Jack you go for fourteen years.”

Smith allegedly replied:

“America should not hold him fourteen years, nor two neither.”

It was a boast that would soon prove disastrous.

Transportation and Return

Smith was placed aboard ship. The captain gave receipt for his body.

At some point thereafter — the exact mechanism unknown — Smith returned to England.

Whether he escaped, bribed a crewman, or simply slipped back amid lax enforcement, the record does not say.

But on 12 January 1775, he was discovered in Aldersgate Street.

Richard Spratly, who had known him most of his life, arrested him.

The offence was simple:

He was back.

The Law on Returning from Transportation

Under eighteenth-century statute, returning from transportation before expiry of one’s term was itself a capital felony.

No new crime was required.

Presence alone was enough.

When Smith appeared at the Old Bailey in February 1775, the prosecution merely had to prove:

  1. His original conviction
  2. His sentence of transportation
  3. His identity
  4. His unlawful return

The copy of the original conviction was read in court.

The jury had little difficulty.

The Defence

Smith claimed:

“I was sent out of the land; I never received sentence of transportation. I did not know for what time.”

But the turnkey contradicted him.

“We inform them.”

The jury believed the officials.

Verdict and Sentence

The verdict:

Guilty.

The sentence:

Death.

For the second time in two years, John Smith stood condemned to hang.

However, further record shows his sentence outcome was again transportation, and on 14 July 1775 he was transported for a further fourteen years.

Twice spared. Twice exiled.

Returning from Transportation

In the eighteenth century, transportation was intended as removal and deterrence.

Convicts sentenced to seven or fourteen years were legally forbidden to return before expiration.

If they did:

  • They could be indicted without evidence of any new offence
  • Their previous conviction was read into the record
  • The punishment was death

It was the law’s way of enforcing imperial exile.

Money Then & Now — Highway Robbery Context

Highway robbery was among the most feared crimes of the eighteenth century.

Victims were often:

  • Travellers
  • Merchants
  • Pensioners like William Love

Robbery of even modest sums could result in a death sentence.

Public fear of armed robbery meant courts treated offenders severely — especially repeat offenders.

Smith’s original reprieve was mercy. His return was seen as defiance.

The American War Complication

Smith was transported again in July 1775.

That timing is extraordinary.

The American Revolutionary War had begun in April 1775. Within months, transportation to the American colonies became politically and logistically chaotic.

Convict ships were disrupted. Contracts faltered. Prison hulks began to fill in England.

It is entirely possible that Smith’s second transportation:

  • Was delayed
  • Was redirected
  • Or placed him amid the collapsing system of Atlantic penal exile

If so, he became not merely a criminal — but a casualty of imperial upheaval.

Why This Case Matters

John Smith’s story reveals:

  • The brutality of eighteenth-century penal law
  • The fragility of conditional mercy
  • The importance of transportation in Britain’s criminal system
  • The global dimension of punishment
  • The instability of empire on the eve of revolution

From Maidstone to America — and back to the dock at the Old Bailey — Smith’s life traces the harsh geography of eighteenth-century justice.

Sources

  • Old Bailey Proceedings, 18 February 1775, trial of John Smith
  • Kent Maidstone Assizes reference (1773 highway robbery conviction)
  • Old Bailey Online punishment records

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This Day in History: 13 February 1706 — Peter Blake and the Crime of Bigamy

On 13 February 1706, in the parish of St. Martin’s, New Sarum (Salisbury), Peter Blake married Mary Blackstone.

Sixteen years later, that marriage returned to haunt him.

In October 1722, Blake stood before the Old Bailey indicted for taking a second wife while his first was still living — the serious felony of bigamy.

He was found guilty.

The First Marriage

Thomas Holms, Clerk of St. Martin’s Parish in New Sarum, gave clear evidence:

“The Prisoner on the Thirteenth of February 1706 was married to Mary Blackstone Spinster, of the same Parish.”

Holms confirmed he had seen Mary Blackstone alive within three weeks of giving testimony. He even produced the parish register to verify the marriage.

The prosecution strengthened its case further: Edward Farr travelled to Salisbury to obtain certification of the first marriage and saw Mary Blackstone there — living, and with three children by Blake.

The first marriage was not in doubt.

The Second Marriage

Despite that existing union, Blake married again.

Mary Blake testified that on 31 August 1722 she was married to him at St. Peter’s, Cornhill, by licence from the Archbishop’s Court.

She had known him only briefly:

“Having seen him but the Wednesday before.”

They cohabited for three nights. Then she heard rumours.

She was told he had another wife.

She went to him no more.

The officiating minister, Mr. Swan, produced the licence. The parish clerk confirmed the ceremony.

The second marriage, too, was not in doubt.

The Defence

Blake claimed he believed his first wife to be dead.

“He had heard by several Letters that his first Wife was dead, and thought that she was.”

He further alleged interference by one Mr. Clifton, suggesting jealousy and financial motives had stirred the inquiry against him.

But belief is not proof.

And the parish register was a stubborn witness.

The Verdict

The jury returned their decision:

Guilty.

Bigamy in the early eighteenth century was not a mere domestic irregularity. It was a felony, carrying serious penal consequences.

Sentence

On 10 October 1722, when judgment was pronounced, Peter Blake was among those:

Burnt in the Hand.

Branding was a common punishment for certain felonies at this period. A hot iron, often marked with a letter corresponding to the offence, was pressed against the offender’s thumb.

The mark served as:

  • A public sign of conviction
  • A deterrent
  • A permanent legal record on the body

Branding spared Blake from harsher penalties such as death or transportation, but it left him marked — physically and socially.

(For context on branding as punishment, see the Old Bailey’s overview of penal practices in the early eighteenth century.)

Why This Case Matters

The case of Peter Blake reveals:

  • The legal seriousness of marriage law in early 18th-century England
  • The importance of parish registers as documentary evidence
  • The global and local mobility of working people
  • The use of branding as a judicial punishment

Unlike the petty theft cases of February 1818 and 1819, this was a moral and legal breach touching the sanctity of marriage itself.

And though he escaped the gallows, Blake left the courtroom permanently marked.

Sources

  • Old Bailey Proceedings, October 1722 session, trial of Peter Blake (t17221010-19)
  • Old Bailey Online, “Punishments at the Old Bailey” — branding

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