A Story of the Bodkin Murders

by Paul B. McNulty

In 1742, John Bodkin was hanged drawn and quartered having been found guilty of the murder of his brother Patrick in 1739. Aged about twenty two, John was the second son of Counsellor-at-law, John Bodkin and Mary Clarke of Carrowbeg House, Belclare, a village four miles west of Tuam, Co Galway. On the gallows, he refused to acknowledge his guilt of the crime. Instead, as the noose tightened around his neck, he proclaimed I forgive Mankind implying that he was not guilty.

The stark nature of the event has been vividly portrayed in Pue’s Occurrences, a four-page twice-weekly newspaper:

Last Saturday, John Bodkin Esq. was executed here; he neither confessed or denied the murder of his Brother; he was applied to by the High Sheriff and all the Gentlemen present to declare whether he was guilty or not; but could not be prevailed upon to give any Answer; after he pulled down his Cap and was just about to be thrown off, the Gentlemen and the Clergy begged he would satisfy the Publick of his Guilt or Innocence upon which he put back his Cap and begged they would let him die in Peace, and would make no other answer, but forgave Mankind; upon which he was thrown off and in 3 minutes cut down alive, his Privy Parts cut out, and his Bowels taken from him and his Head severed from his Body.

I have investigated the possibility of John Bodkin’s innocence through the medium of a historical novel in which he and Catherine Bermingham, the third daughter of Lord Athenry, are the principal characters. Both are real people but their romance is fictional. If John Bodkin was innocent, I assumed he would have sought to protect someone he loved such as his betrothed, Catherine Bermingham.

I then developed the plot by suggesting that John’s older brother Patrick was madly jealous of his younger brother’s coup in successfully wooing a girl above his station in life. That jealousy would then ignite the passion which would ultimately lead to disaster for both brothers.

The delay in John Bodkin’s trial resulted from the belief of the local Justice of the Peace, Lord Athenry, that Patrick Bodkin had died of natural causes. It was not until the aftermath of the Bodkin murders in 1741 that John Bodkin was indicted for fratricide. These events have been described in a primary source, Pue’s Occurrences in 1741, later amplified by Oliver J Burke in his 1885 Anecdotes of the Connaught Circuit…, a secondary source. Three members of the Bodkin family, Oliver Bodkin (John Bodkin’s uncle); Oliver’s pregnant wife, Margery; his son, Oliver; a visitor, Marcus Lynch of Galway; and a number of unnamed servants were murdered in a family feud.

On the gallows in 1741, Shawn Bodkin, one of those convicted of the Bodkin murders, accused his first cousin John Bodkin of murdering his older brother, Patrick. In 1742, John Bodkin was hanged drawn and quartered having been found guilty of the crime as hitherto described.

Sources:

Burke, Oliver J, Anecdotes of the Connaught Circuit… Dublin, 1885, pages 86-92.

Estate: Bodkin (Carrowbeg & Thomastown)

Hardiman, James, The History of the Town and County of the Town of Galway 1820,

            Dublin, 320 pages.

Mohr, Paul, “The de Berminghams, Barons of Athenry: A Suggested Outline Lineage

from First to Last,” Journal of the Galway Archaeological and Historical Society, 2011, volume 63, pages 43-56.

Ms 32484, Land holding, National Library of Ireland.

Pue, Richard, “Country News Tuam, 9 October, 1741,” Pue’s Occurrences, 10-13 Oct

            1741-42, volume 39, microfilm 53, Trinity College Library, Dublin.

——— “Country News Galway, 19 March, 1742,” 20-23 Mar 1741-42, Ibid.

——— “Country News Galway, 23 March, 1742,” 23-27 Mar 1741-42, Ibid.

Tuam, http://www.logainm.ie/eolas/Data/IHTA/tuam.pdf, Thomas Bagworth, p 5.

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After retirement from an academic post at University College Dublin, Paul studied Genealogy/Family History and Creative Writing. His diploma project, “The Genealogy of the Anglo-Norman Lynches who settled in Galway,” led to the discovery of stories that inspired him to write historical novels based on real events in 18^th century Ireland. These include Spellbound by Sibella, The Abduction of Anne O’Donel and A Story of the Bodkin Murders each published by Club Lighthouse CLP, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. The first two novels have been finalists in the William Faulkner Novel Competitions, New Orleans in 2012 and 2013 respectively.

He has also self-published The Genealogy of the Anglo-Norman Lynches… in 2013 and a novella, A Rebel Romance in 2014, both with CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform. More recently, he has written the first draft of a play based on an extract from his novel, Spellbound by Sibella. A reading of this play occurred within the Theatre Festival of UCD dramsoc in November 2015.

Benefit of Clergy: Get Out of Jail Free?

By Catherine Curzon 

In my last article here, the branding iron, the pillory and the gallows took centre stage as I introduced some corporal and capital punishments of the 18th century Old Bailey. Whilst researching my second book, Tales from the 18th Century Old Bailey, I have found myself lost in the fascinating labyrinth of the various sentences and punishments available to the Old Bailey judges and today, it is my dubious delight to look at a holy grail for sentenced prisoners... the chance to plead benefit of clergy.

Old Bailey in 1750. Sessions House
(Wellcome Library, London)

Benefit of clergy (privilegium clericale) first emerged as an option in the 12th century when a member of the clergy could be tried not by the courts, but by their clerical peers. It was an invaluable loophole to those who could exploit it and provided a route to escape the death penalty for serious crimes, with clergy courts likely to hand down far more lenient sentences than their criminal brethren. However, the plea was open only to those who could prove that they were clergymen of some description and for the vast majority of criminals on trial, this was never going to happen!

However, where there's a will there's a way and the method of proving your clergyhood was far from foolproof, taking as it did the form of a reading test. The person on trial was required to recite what became known as the Neck Verse, or, more officially, Psalm 51. If one could make the recital, then one could claim benefit of clergy and soon enough criminals up and down the country were merrily memorising and reciting Psalm 51 as well as the Archbishop of Canterbury himself might!

Psalm 51, or, the Neck Verse

“Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions."

Of course, such a blatant abuse of the system could not go unchecked and as the centuries passed, so too did the system of benefit of clergy morph and change. A suspicious judge who suspected a defendant of simply memorising the verse could ask for a second reading from the Bible and, of course, if a criminal could actually read, then he was, essentially, home and dry. As the number of people claiming benefit of clergy increased, a list of crimes for which clergy could not be claimed was drawn up and, eventually, the system was opened to any criminal committing a first-time offence. 

Following the wider availability of the plea, any defendant lucky enough to succeed faced a minimum sentence of hard labour but that, of course, is preferable to the gallows. Should benefit of clergy be approved by the judge, the recipient could also look forward to being branded on his thumb, in order to ensure that he could never claim the right again and that any future crimes would attract the full weight of the law.

The law was eventually abolished in 1827 and the Neck Verse was retired as those on trial forever lost the right to claim benefit of clergy.


References
Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org)
Brooke, Alan and Brandon, David, Tyburn: London's Fatal Tree (The History Press, 2013)

Cawthorne, Nigel, Public Executions: From Ancient Rome to the Present Day, Arcturus Publishing (2006)

Gatrell, Vic, The Hanging Tree: Execution and the English People 1770-1868 (OUP, Oxford, 1996)
Grovier, Kelly, The Gaol (John Murray, London, 2009)
Webb, Simon, Execution: A History of Capital Punishment in Britain (The History Press, 2011)

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Glorious Georgian ginbag, gossip and gadabout Catherine Curzon, aka Madame Gilflurt, is the author of A Covent Garden Gilflurt’s Guide to Life. When not setting quill to paper, she can usually be found gadding about the tea shops and gaming rooms of the capital or hosting intimate gatherings at her tottering abode. In addition to her blog and Facebook, Madame G is also quite the charmer on Twitter. Her first book, Life in the Georgian Court, is available now, and she is also working on An Evening with Jane Austen, starring Adrian Lukis and Caroline Langrishe.

"The Law of the Wise": Some Corporal and Capital Punishments of the Old Bailey

By Catherine Curzon 

In these modern times, crime and punishment is something of a political hot potato. The question of leniency of sentencing is one that crops up time and again in coverage of this most serious issue, with the rights of those convicted of crimes and their victims a subject of near constant debate. We recognise now that it is important that the severity of the punishment should fit the nature of the crime though, of course, these are not particularly simple waters to navigate. 

Crime and punishment in the Georgian era is, of course, a favourite subject of mine and I have, on occasion, been accused of having a somewhat macabre interest in the Bloody Code. My post today should do nothing to dispel those rumours and it is my morbid pleasure to be your guide to some of the most popular methods of corporal and capital punishment imposed at the Old Bailey throughout the long 18th century. 

In coming posts, we will learn a little more of the other punishment options available and those who were subjected to them but for now, consider this your Georgian punishment digest! 

Branding 
Branding was the act of marking a felon with a hot iron, often with the shape of a letter that represented their crime such an M for murderer. In the early 18th century these brands were made on the cheek of the criminal but, eventually, they were branded on the thumb in order to give them at least a chance of finding employment and living something close to a normal life. With the branding carried out in the courtroom on the day of the sentencing, the very public and permanent mark meant that branding could only be applied once. 

The pillory at Charing Cross in London, c. 1808.

Pillory 
The pillory was usually set in the middle of a busy part of town to ensure that the maximum punishment and humiliation was inflicted on the felon. A cousin of the stocks, the pillory allowed the convict to be secured by neck and hands and there he would be subjected to abuse from the populace, both verbal and physical. All manner of items would be hurled at the person in the pillory, from faeces to rotten food and even dead cats or, in the case of Daniel Defoe, fresh flowers! Although not intended to cause lasting physical harm, there are records of deaths, blindings and other serious injury to those being pilloried. On occasion, the person in the pillory might be unfortunate enough to encounter our next punishment at the same time. 

Whipping 
Another punishment with a strong element of public humiliation was that of whipping. On occasion related to the pillory, it was more often applied in the very streets of the city. Whether male or female the felon was stripped to the waist and tied to a cart that moved through the streets. Stumbling along after the vehicle, the convict endured both pain and humiliation as, walking behind, the executioner whipped them through the gathered crowds.

The Tyburn Tree

Death by Hanging
This is the punishment most associated with the era and tales of the Tyburn Tree echo through history, ballads and stories told of the men and women who died there. Some were notorious, some forgotten but all shared the dubious honour of meeting their death on this famous site. Of course, not everyone who went to their deaths did so at Tyburn and not everybody who was handed the death penalty was actually executed but this chilling sentence remains at the heart of the Bloody Code.

Driven in a cart from their prison to the gallows with their hands bound, convicts were subject to a public procession through the streets of London where crowds awaited them. Some were feted, others abused and on occasion, stops were made to allow the condemned to take some last drops of alcohol or, in the cases of some more celebrated prisoners, meet their public!

Upon arrival at Tyburn, where still more spectators crowded in to watch, the prisoner was given the chance to address the crowd. Whilst some took the route of repentance, others protested their innocence, remained silent or were too shocked, terrified or drunk to make much sense at all. Still in the cart, the noose was placed around the convict’s neck, the hood over their head and the cart was driven away, leaving them hanging and suffering a slow, agonising death by strangulation. Later the cart was replaced by a drop that was intended to result in a quicker death; often it did, but sometimes, it did not. Family and friends of the hanging person would rush to their aid, dragging at their flailing legs in an effort to hasten their death and lessen their suffering.

Not all who received the death penalty met their fate on the gallows, of course. A pregnant woman might “plead her belly” and escape the penalty and, in many cases, such sentences for men and women were commuted to lesser punishments. Now and again, though not exactly often, a convict might even be pardoned and set free.

Newgate, the old city gate and prison

The Old Bailey in the 18th century was not a place where leniency was practised often and if modern methods focus on rehabilitation, this was not the case for our Georgian ancestors. Punishments were severe and even crimes that seem relatively minor to us now, such as pickpocketing, might result in transportation or execution. Likewise, age was no barrier to receiving a harsh sentence and Britain’s laws were regarded, rightly, as some of the most strict in Europe. Over time the punishments began to reduce in severity for lesser crimes but for many years execution remained a viable and popular sentence. The last hanging in England took place in 1964 and even now a particularly brutal crime sees calls for the death penalty to be reintroduced. It is a debate that still goes on, of course, but for the foreseeable future, no criminal sentenced in England will face the noose.

References
Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org)
Brooke, Alan and Brandon, David, Tyburn: London's Fatal Tree (The History Press, 2013)

Cawthorne, Nigel, Public Executions: From Ancient Rome to the Present Day, Arcturus Publishing (2006)

Gatrell, Vic, The Hanging Tree: Execution and the English People 1770-1868 (OUP, Oxford, 1996)
Grovier, Kelly, The Gaol (John Murray, London, 2009)
Nelson, John, The History and Antiquities of the Parish of Islington, in the County of Middlesex, T Lester (1829)
Wade, Stephen, Britain's Most Notorious Hangmen (Wharncliffe Books, 2009)
Webb, Simon, Execution: A History of Capital Punishment in Britain (The History Press, 2011)

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Glorious Georgian ginbag, gossip and gadabout Catherine Curzon, aka Madame Gilflurt, is the author of A Covent Garden Gilflurt’s Guide to Life. When not setting quill to paper, she can usually be found gadding about the tea shops and gaming rooms of the capital or hosting intimate gatherings at her tottering abode. In addition to her blog and Facebook, Madame G is also quite the charmer on Twitter. Her first book, Life in the Georgian Court, is available now, and she is also working on An Evening with Jane Austen, starring Adrian Lukis and Caroline Langrishe.

Steal a book, seven-years' hard labor overseas: Transportation as punishment in the 17th-19th centuries

England, like many societies throughout history, has had to struggle with what to do with their criminal population. For a good chunk of English history, punishment was harsh and severe. Executions were common for a number of offenses. The fundamental question of how justice is best served has been explored throughout English history and influenced by shifts in historical, philosophical, and religious beliefs.

With the expansion of British colonial holdings in the 17th century, another option arose: transportation. The idea was simple in concept if occasionally more complicated in execution. Transportation at its core was exile. Instead of local imprisonment, execution, or another punishment, an offender was sent to a distant overseas holding. In this way the home country depleted their criminal population and minimized the resource impact of a growing criminal population.

Transportation was not reserved for the most heinous of offenses such as murder. A variety of crimes, both major and relatively minor, could end up with a criminal being sentenced to transportation. For example, in 1723 one man was sentenced to transportation and an accompanying seven years of labor for stealing a book.

Initially, many criminals were transported to colonies in continental North America and the West Indies. The American Revolution complicated things and ended North America as a popular choice for transportation even for non-rebellious areas. By 1787, British transportation was focused instead on Australia and some other smaller colonial holdings.

Transportation may have been exile at its core, but it was also supposed to serve the needs of the home country beyond that. In addition to the restrictions one might expect, such as the death penalty for those returning from transportation, these sentences typically carried with them a hefty labor requirement. The services expected from the convicts might be directed toward what we’d now call public works projects, or the convicts might end up as indentured servants to free citizens in a colony.

As one might expect, sending a person thousands of miles away and never allowing them to return home was going to predispose them to even more anti-social behavior than whatever got them in trouble initially. If they had no hope of any sort of normal life, it would only contribute to the kind of instability and revolts one witnessed with completely enslaved populations. One way of combating this, and also serving the general idea of some form of semi-merciful justice, was to limit the main criminal penalty period to a defined number of years. After the prisoners served their sentences, they would not typically regain all of their rights, but, at minimum, would have enough that they could live a semi-normal life.

Related to the exile of general criminals, a variation on transportation was also used to sell people directly into slavery. Though your standard-issue English criminal probably would end up an indentured servant on a plantation or digging a canal or what not, hundreds of thousands of Irish and Scottish political and war prisoners taken during the 17th-century ended up being sold into slavery in the West Indies and this, in some cases, continued in some forms even until nearly the end of the 18th century. Please note that in most cases these were, for all intents and purposes, true slaves and not simple indentured servants. The interbreeding of Irish and African slaves (who were initially considerably more expensive than Irish slaves) in the West Indies became so extensive that by the end of the 17th century, specific laws were passed to prohibit it. Admittedly, the issue with the Irish and Scottish was more an offshoot of war (and rebellion) between England, Scotland, and Ireland, and even many of the laws concerning their handling were distinct from the various transportation acts passed to cover non-political/war-offenses.

Given our modern view of a more rehabilitative justice system, transportation may seem cruel. Indeed, even being a child did not necessarily protect one from a transportation sentence, though age and size (tiny laborers aren’t efficient, after all) were somewhat taken into account. There are, however, documented cases of children as young as seven years old being transported to Australia. It is important to keep in mind, though, that by the standards of the time, transportation was often considered somewhat more lenient than one of the more common punishments: execution or being sentenced to a disgusting and overcrowded prison on land.

Then, as now, the building of more prisons to give convicted criminals more space wasn’t high on the list of societal priorities. In addition, the general English (or general world) attitude toward punishment from the 17th through 19th centuries could more generally be defined as retribution-based rather than rehabilitation-centered. There were such severe issues with prison space that even more disgusting and overcrowded prison ships were used as supplements. That being said, it’s hard not to notice the national self-interest served by thousands upon thousands of cheap laborers being available to help develop new colonies. Transportation would linger, as a punishment, officially until 1868, but for several reasons, including socio-economic and geopolitical changes, it had de facto ended years before.