Early American Crime

Note: This post is part of a series on Convict Transportation to the American colonies.

Mary Standford was convicted of privately stealing a shagreen pocket book, a silk handkerchief, and 4 guineas from William Smith on July 11, 1726. After her conviction, she strongly rejected transportation to the American colonies as an alternative to execution.

Early Years

Standford was raised just outside of London by good parents who sent her to school and educated her in the principles of Christian values. Standford, however, showed more interest in the “Company of Young Men,” so she was sent to London to become a servant, where she lost several positions due to her behavior. In her last position she was seduced by a footman, which subsequently forced her into prostitution.

Standford quickly fell in company with Mary Rawlins, “a Woman of notorious ill fame,” and the two of them walked the streets between Temple Bar and Ludgate-Hill looking to empty the pockets, one way or another, of gullible men. Later, they had considerable success targeting sailors who, after returning from their voyages, had money to spend for their favors. Standford eventually married a man with the last name of Herbert, but after a year and a half she left him or, by her account, he abandoned her. Soon afterward, she had a child out of wedlock from another man, who was a servant.

Standford’s Arrest

With two mouths to feed, Standford set out to practice prostitution on her own, and it was then that she was arrested for theft. William Smith, who brought her to trial and was surprisingly frank in his testimony, related that he was walking along Shoe Lane after one o’clock in the morning when he was approached by Standford, who offered him to “take a Lodging with her.” He spent 2 or 3 three hours with her, all the while ordering drinks to be brought up from downstairs. He soon realized that he was missing money, and when he confronted Standford about it, she bolted from the room.

A constable caught Standford running away from Smith in the street. He picked up one of Smith’s guineas after Standford had dropped it, and he found another in her hand and two in her mouth. He also discovered Smith’s handkerchief and pocket book on her. In his testimony, the constable called Smith a “Country Man” and described him as very drunk at the time.

Standford’s version of the event was quite different. She claimed that Smith was drunk when she met him, and that he forced himself up to her room. There, he placed the four guineas one by one in her bosom and then threw her onto the bed. In the struggle, she speculated that his pocket book must have fallen out of his pocket, and when she discovered it after he left, she ran after him to return it. Not believing her story, the jury found her guilty, and she was sentenced to death.

A Rejection and a Defense of Transportation

After receiving her sentence, Standford’s friends pleaded with her to ask for a pardon in exchange for transportation. Standford refused, “declaring that she had rather die, not only the most Ignominious, but the most cruel Death that could be invented at home, rather than be sent Abroad to slave for her Living.”

The author of the Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals was baffled by Standford’s position and presents a lengthy defense of the institution of convict transportation:

such strange Apprehensions enter into the Heads of these unhappy Creatures, and hinder them from taking the Advantage of the only possibility they have left of tasting Happiness on this side the Grave, and as this Aversion to the Plantations has so bad Effects, especially in making the Convicts desirous of escaping from the Vessel, or of flying out of the Country whither they were sent, almost before they have seen it. I am surpriz’d that no Care has been taken to print a particular and authentick Account, of the Manner in which they are treated in those Places; I know it may be suggested that the Terrour of such Usage as they are represented to meet with there, has often a good Effect in diverting them from such Facts as they know must bring them to Transportation, yet . . . if instead of magnifying the Miseries of their pretended Slavery, or rather of inventing Stories that make a very easy service, pass on these unhappy Creatures for the severest Bondage. The Convicts were to be told the true state of the Case, and were put in Mind that instead of suffering Death, the Lenity of our Constitution, permitted them to be removed into another Climate, no way inferiour to that in which they were born, where they were to perform no harder tasks, than those who work honestly for their Bread in England do, and this not under Persons of another Nation, who might treat them with less Humanity upon that Account, but to their Countrymen, who are no less English for their living in the New, than if they dwelt in Old England, People famous for their Humanity, Justice and Piety, and amongst whom they are sure of meeting with no variation of Manners, Customs, &c. unless in respect of the Progress of their Vices which are at present, and may they long remain so, far less numerous there than in their Mother-Land. I say if Pains were taken to instill into these unhappy Persons such Notions . . ., they might probably conceive justly of that Clemency which is extended towards them, and instead of shunning Transportation, flying from the Countries where they are landed, as soon as they have set their Foot in them, or neglecting Opportunities they might have on their first coming there, be brought to serve their Masters faithfully, to endure the Time of their Service chearfully, and settle afterwards in the best Manner they are able, so as to pass the Close of their Life in an honest, easy, and reputable Manner; whereas now it too often happens, that their last End is worse than their first, because those who return from Transportation being sure of Death if apprehended, are led thereby to behave themselves worse and more cruelly than any Malefactors whatsoever (Vol. III, pp. 287-289).

The author’s cheery account of life as an indentured servant in the American colonies certainly makes transportation sound like a compelling alternative to execution. The reality of life overseas under such conditions, though, does not match this picture, and some criminals valued their liberty over enforced servitude, even if it meant their own death.

Execution

In his account of her execution, James Guthrie, the minister at Newgate Prison, described Standford as “grosly Ignorant of any thing that is good.” He went on to say that “she was neither ingenious nor full in her Confessions, but appeared obstinate and self-conceited.” Standford continued to maintain her innocence in the affair with Smith, and she appeared indifferent about the fate of her child, expressing to Guthrie the hope that the parish would take care of it. Guthrie claimed, however, that “she acknowledg’d herself among the chief of Sinners.”

Mary Standford was executed on Wednesday, August 3, 1726 at Tyburn. She was 36 years old. Executed alongside her were 3 other criminals. Thomas Smith and Edward Reynolds were both sentenced to die for highway robbery. John Claxton, alias Johnson, was put death for returning twice from transportation before his 7-year sentence had run out.

Resources for this article:

• Lives of the Most Remarkable Criminals. 3 vols. London: John Osborn, 1735.
• Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, 26 January 2009), July 1726, trial of Mary Stanford (t17260711-51).
• Old Bailey Proceedings (www.oldbaileyonline.org, 26 January 2009), Ordinary of Newgate’s Account, 3 August 1726 (OA17260803).

Learn More About Convict Transportation

Learn more about convict transportation to colonial America by reading my book, Bound with an Iron Chain: The Untold Story of How the British Transported 50,000 Convicts to Colonial America.

Amazon.com: Paperback ($16.99) and Kindle ($4.99).

Smashwords: All e-book formats ($4.99).

Most people know that England shipped thousands of convicts to Australia, but few are aware that colonial America was the original destination for Britain’s unwanted criminals. In the 18th century, thousands of British convicts were separated from their families, chained together in the hold of a ship, and carried off to America, sometimes for the theft of a mere handkerchief.

What happened to these convicts once they arrived in America? Did they prosper in an environment of unlimited opportunity, or were they ostracized by the other colonists? Anthony Vaver tells the stories of the petty thieves and professional criminals who were punished by being sent across the ocean to work on plantations. In bringing to life this forgotten chapter in American history, he challenges the way we think about immigration to early America.

The book also includes an appendix with helpful tips for researching individual convicts who were transported to America.

Visit Pickpocket Publishing for more details.

Note: This post is part of a series on Convict Transportation to the American colonies.

Convicted criminals who were tried at the Old Bailey in London and received a sentence of transportation began their journey to the American colonies in the notorious Newgate Prison. Like those sentenced to transportation at other prisons, they waited for the next convict ship to leave port, which sometimes could be several months after sentencing. Given prison conditions at the time, it wasn’t unusual for convicts waiting to be transported to die before they even left prison.

Eighteenth-Century Prisons

Prisons in eighteenth-century England mainly functioned as holding places for those moving through the criminal justice system–much like our modern-day jails today–with debtors generally being the only long-term inhabitants. The poor condition of prisons in general made the idea of punishing criminals by placing them in prison for an extended period almost unimaginable. Sentencing a criminal to long-term incarceration would have been the equivalent of handing down a death sentence, given the rampant diseases that often ran through the prisons. In addition, prisons were already overcrowded, and the cost of building even more prisons for long-term imprisonment was prohibitive.

Eighteenth-century English prisons were often scenes of drunkenness and riot, since almost every prison had a tap room that sold alcohol to its prisoners. Some smaller prisons were even situated in public houses. The sale of alcohol was highly profitable for the keepers of jails, so much so that an Act in 1751 banning the sale of spirits in prisons was generally ignored. Prisoners received a meager diet of food, although better fare could be purchased. Felons who had access to an opening to the street were allowed to beg for food or for money, which could be used either to supplement their diet or to spend in the tap room.

Perhaps the most striking characteristic of eighteenth-century English prisons was their smell. The stench coming from Newgate Prison infiltrated the entire surrounding neighborhood. In 1750, the odor got so bad that eleven men were hired to wash down the walls of the prison with vinegar and install a ventilation system. During the process, seven of the eleven men working on the project came down with “gaol fever.” Only five years later the horrible smell from the prison was still so strong that nobody in the neighborhood could bear standing in their doorways.

John Howard, who published a study of English prisons in 1777, described the intense odor he encountered at practically every prison he visited.

Air which has been breathed, is made poisonous to a more intense degree by the effluvia from the sick; and what else in prisons is offensive. My reader will judge of its malignity, when I assure him, that my cloaths were in my first journeys so offensive, that in a post-chaise I could not bear the windows drawn up: and was therefore often obliged to travel on horseback. The leaves of my memorandum-book were often so tainted, that I could not use it till after spreading it an hour or two before the fire: and even my antidote, a vial of vinegar, has after using it in a few prisons, become intolerably disagreeable. I did not wonder that in those journies many gaolers made excuses; and did not go with me into the felons wards.

Entering Newgate Prison

When prisoners arrived at Newgate Prison, they were put in irons and led through the prison gate. The keeper’s house was on the left, and below it was the “hold,” where prisoners awaiting execution were kept. Prisoners entered the hold through a hatch, and the chamber was entirely constructed of stone, with hooks and chains fastened into the floor to restrain unruly prisoners. An open sewer ran down the middle of the hold, emitting a stench that filled the entire space.

If prisoners had enough money to pay the fees and the garnish demanded of them upon entry, they could be directed to the Master’s Side or the Press Yard. The Steward of the Ward, generally the senior prisoner who was entrusted to oversee the daily care of the prisoners, collected the garnish money, which was a fee that went toward purchasing coal for heat, brooms for sweeping, and candles for light. Prisoners who entered Newgate with money could also pay to have the weight of their irons reduced or removed entirely. Those who lacked sufficient funds to pay for the privilege of better accommodations were put in the Common Felons Side.

The Common Felons Side

The Common Felons Side of Newgate Prison was divided into five wards, three for men and two for women. Each ward had varying degrees of comfort, relatively speaking, and felons were placed in them according to how much money they could pay. Those who could not pay the entrance fees were put in the Stone Hold, which one observer described as “a most terrible stinking, dark and dismal Place, situated under Ground, in which no Day-light can come.” The hold had no beds, so prisoners were forced to sleep on the stone that paved the floor. Felons who could pay dues could be placed in the Middle Ward, which was not as dark or cold as the Stone Hold, and while these prisoners still did not receive beds, they slept on oak flooring instead of stone.

In 1724, it was observed that most of the prisoners who inhabited the Common Felons Side were

generally those that lie for Transportation; and they knowing their Time to be short here, rather than bestow one Minute towards cleaning the same, suffer themselves to live far worse than Swine; and, to speak the Truth, the Augean [sic] Stable could bear no Comparison to it, for they are almost poisoned with their own Filth, and their Conversation is nothing but one continued Course of Swearing, Cursing and Debauchery, insomuch that it surpasses all Description and Belief.

The beginning of a transported convict’s journey to the American colonies was inauspicious, to say the least.

Resources for this article:

• Ackroyd, Peter. London: The Biography. New York: Anchor Books, 2000.
• George, M. Dorothy. London Life in the Eighteenth Century. Chicago: Academy Chicago Publishers, 1965.
• Howard, John. The State of the Prisons in England and Wales, with Preliminary Observations, and an Account of Some Foreign Prisons. Warrington: Printed by William Eyres, 1777.
• Langley, Batty. An Accurate Description of Newgate, with the Rights, Privileges, Allowances, Fees, Dues, and Customs Thereof. London: Printed for T. Warner, 1724.
• Whitfield, Peter. London: A Life in Maps. London: The British Library, 2006.

Learn More About Convict Transportation

Learn more about convict transportation to colonial America by reading my book, Bound with an Iron Chain: The Untold Story of How the British Transported 50,000 Convicts to Colonial America.

Amazon.com: Paperback ($16.99) and Kindle ($4.99).

Smashwords: All e-book formats ($4.99).

Most people know that England shipped thousands of convicts to Australia, but few are aware that colonial America was the original destination for Britain’s unwanted criminals. In the 18th century, thousands of British convicts were separated from their families, chained together in the hold of a ship, and carried off to America, sometimes for the theft of a mere handkerchief.

What happened to these convicts once they arrived in America? Did they prosper in an environment of unlimited opportunity, or were they ostracized by the other colonists? Anthony Vaver tells the stories of the petty thieves and professional criminals who were punished by being sent across the ocean to work on plantations. In bringing to life this forgotten chapter in American history, he challenges the way we think about immigration to early America.

The book also includes an appendix with helpful tips for researching individual convicts who were transported to America.

Visit Pickpocket Publishing for more details.