Trial of Mary Blandy by William Roughead

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Some few days after this, on a Sunday in the afternoon, Mr. Cranstoun
and I being alone in the parlour, Betty Binfield, the cook-maid, came
running into the room, and said, "There is such a noise in the room
over my master's study, for God's sake come into the yard and hear
it." But when we came, we could hear nothing. However, returning into
the parlour through the hall, we heard a noise over our heads, like
that of some heavy person walking. The room over the hall was once my
mother's dressing-room, tho' it then had a bed in it: but now, it was
my dressing-room, it had none at all. Hearing the noise, we both went
up into the room; but then, notwithstanding the late noise, could see
nothing at all. After which, we went down and drank tea with my
father.

About a fortnight before Mr. Cranstoun's last departure for Scotland,
Susannah Gunnel one morning going into his room with some vinegar and
water to wash his eyes, he asked her, "If ever her master walked in
his sleep?" She replied, "Not that she ever knew of." "It is very
odd," said he, "he was in my room to-night, dressed with his white
stockings, his coat on, and a cap on his head. I had never," continued
he, "been asleep, and the clock had just struck two. I heard him walk
up my stairs, open the door, and come into the room: upon which I
moved my curtain, and seeing him, I cried, 'Aha! old friend, what did
you come to fright me? I have not been asleep since I came to bed, and
heard you come up.' But he went on, he would not answer me one word.
However, he walked quite across my room, then turned back, and as he
approached my bed-side, kissed his hand, bowed, and went out of the
room. Then I heard him go down stairs. It was, certainly," continued
he, "your master, sleeping or waking; but which, I cannot tell." Susan
greatly surprised at this story, then came running down to me, who was
getting up, and told me what Mr. Cranstoun had said. To this I made no
answer, but went up immediately into his room, and asked him what he
meant by this story Susan had told me. In answer to which, he repeated
the same story, and declared it to be true in every particular. He
then said, "He supposed Mr. Blandy came to see whether he was in bed
or not." When he went down to breakfast, he asked my father, "What
made him fright him so last night?" My father being surprised at this,
and staring on him, asked him, "What he meant?" Mr. Cranstoun then
told the same story over again. To which my father replied, "It must
have been a dream, for I went to bed at eleven o'clock, and did not
rise out of it till seven this morning. Besides, I could not have
appeared in my coat, as you pretend, since the maid had it to put a
button upon it." My father did not seem pleased with the discourse;
which induced me to put an end to it as soon as possible. The
surprising facts here mentioned, of the reality of which I cannot
entertain the least doubt, made a deep and lasting impression upon my
mind. Since, therefore, in my opinion, they were too slightly touched
upon at my trial, notwithstanding the incredulity of the present age
as to facts of this nature, I could by no means think it improper to
give so particular and distinct a relation of them here.

Mr. Cranstoun, soon after this, taking his leave of Henley, set out
for Scotland, as has been already observed. A day or two after his
departure, Mr. Cranstoun wrote me a letter on the road, wherein he
begged me to make acceptable to my father his most grateful
acknowledgements for his late goodness to him. "This," he said, "had
made such an impression upon him, that he never should forget it as
long as he lived; and that he should always entertain the same tender
sentiments for him as for his father, the late Lord Cranstoun,[25]
himself, had he been then alive." In the same letter, he also desired
me to permit my letters to be directed by some body who wrote a more
masculine hand than mine; since otherwise they might be intercepted by
some one or other of Miss Murray's family, as they were jealous of the
affair carried on between us two. He likewise therein insisted upon my
subscribing myself "M.C." instead of "M.B." tho' he did not discover
to me the real view he had therein. Soon after he arrived at his
mother's, he wrote me another letter, wherein he informed me, that he
told his mother[26] we were married, and had been so for some time: and
that she would write to me, as her daughter, by the very next post.
This she did; and her letter came accompanied with one from her son,
wherein he desired me, if I loved him, to answer his mother's by the
return of the post, and sign myself "Mary Cranstoun" at length, as I
knew before God I was, by a solemn contract, entitled to that name.
This, he pretended, would make his mother stir more in the Scotch
affair. On the supposition that I was her daughter, she wrote many
tender letters to me, always directing to me by the name of "Mary
Cranstoun," and sent me some very handsome presents of Scotch linen.
He also obliged his eldest sister, Mrs. Selby,[27] and her husband, to
write to me as their sister. Lady Cranstoun likewise wrote to my
father in a very complaisant style, thanking him for the civilities he
had shewn her son; and hinting, that she hoped it would be in her
power to return them to me, when she should have the pleasure of
seeing me in Scotland, which she begged might be soon. Lord Cranstoun,
his brother, also wrote to my father, and returned him thanks in the
same polite manner. During this whole period, my father's behaviour to
me was very uncertain; but always good after he had received any of
these letters. In a few months, however, after Mr. Cranstoun's
departure, my father's temper was much altered for the worse. He
upbraided me with having rejected much better offers than any that had
come from Scotland; and at last ordered me to write to Mr. Cranstoun
not to return to Henley, till his affair with Miss Murray was quite
decided. I complied with this order, writing to him in the terms
prescribed me. To this I received an answer full of tenderness, grief,
and despair. He said, "He found my father loved him no longer, and was
afraid he would inspire me with the same sentiments. He saw," he said,
"a coolness throughout my whole letter; but conjured me to remember
the sacred promises and engagements that had passed between us." After
this, I received several other letters from him, filled with the same
sort of expostulation; and penned in the same desponding and
disconsolate strain. I likewise received several letters from his
mother, the old Lady Cranstoun, and Mrs. Selby, his sister, wrote in a
most affectionate style.

In April, or the beginning of May, 1751, as I apprehend, I had another
letter from Mr. Cranstoun, wherein he acquainted me, that he had seen
his old friend, Mrs. Morgan; and that if he could procure any more of
her powder, he would send it with the Scotch pebbles he intended to
make me a present of. In answer to this, I told him, "I was surprised
that a man of his sense could believe such efficacy to be lodged in
any powder whatsoever; and that I would not give it my father, lest it
should impair his health." To this, in his next letter, he replied,
"That he was extremely surprised I should believe he would send any
thing that might prove prejudicial to my father, when his own interest
was so apparently concerned in his preservation." I took this as
referring to a conversation we had had a little before he set out for
Scotland; wherein I told him, "I was sure my father was not a man of a
very considerable fortune; but that if he lived, I was persuaded he
would provide very handsomely for us and ours, as he lived so retired,
and his business was every day increasing." So far was I from
imagining, that I should be a gainer by my father's death, as has been
so maliciously and uncharitably suggested! Mr. Cranstoun also seemed
most cordially and sincerely to join with me in the same notion. Soon
after this, in another letter, he informed me, "That some of the
aforesaid powder should be sent with the Scotch pebbles he intended
me; and that he should write upon the paper in which the powder was
contained, 'powder to clean Scotch pebbles,' lest, if he gave it its
true name, the box should be opened, and he be laughed at by the
person opening it, and taken for a superstitious fool, as he had been
by me before." In June 1751, the box with the powder and pebbles
arrived at Henley, and a letter came to me the next day, wherein he
ordered me to mix the powder in tea. This some mornings after I did;
but finding that it would not mix well with tea, I flung the liquor
into which it had been thrown out of the window. I farther declare,
that looking into the cup, I saw nothing adhere to the sides of it;
nor was such an adhesion probable, as the powder swam on the top of
the liquor. My father drank two cups of tea out of that cup, before I
threw the powder into it: nor did he drink any more out of it that
morning, it being Sunday, and he fearing to drink a third cup, lest he
should be too late for church. It has been said by Susan Gunnel, at my
Trial, that she drank out of the aforesaid cup, and was very ill after
it. In answer to which, I must beg leave to observe, that she never
before would drink out of any other cup, than one which she called her
own, different from this, and which I drank out of on that and most
other mornings. It has been farther said, that Dame Emmet, a
charwoman, was likewise hurt by drinking tea at my father's house: be
pleased to remember, Reader, that I mixed it but in one cup, and then
threw it away. Susan said, she drank out of the cup and was ill, what
then could hurt this woman, who to my knowledge was not at our house
that day? Mr. Nicholas, an apothecary, attended this old woman in the
first sickness they talk of, which, by Susan, I understood was a
weakness common to her, viz. fainting fits and purging; and I know,
that she had had fainting fits many times before. When I heard she was
ill, I ordered Susan to send her whey, broth, or any thing that she
thought would be proper for her. She had long served the family, would
joke and divert me, and I loved her extremely. Nor can my enemies
themselves (let them paint me how they please) deny that from my heart
I pitied the poor. I never felt more pleasure, than when I fed the
hungry, cloathed the naked, and supplied the wants of those in
distress. Had God blessed me with a more plentiful fortune, I should
have exerted myself in this more; and I flatter myself, that the poor
and indigent of our town will do me justice in this particular, and
own that I was not wanting in my duty towards them. But to proceed in
my account: I would not fix on any other charwoman; and Susan said,
that Dame Emmet would, she thought, by my goodness, soon get strength
to work again. I told her, was it ever so long I would stay for her. I
mixed the powder, as was said before, on the Sunday, and on the
Tuesday wrote to Mr. Cranstoun, that it would not mix in tea, and that
I would not try it any more, lest my father should find it out. This
has been brought against me by many: but let any one consider, if the
discovery of such a procedure as this, would not have excited anger,
and consequently have been followed by resentment in my father. This
might have occasioned a total separation of me from Mr. Cranstoun, a
thing I at that time dreaded more than even death itself. In answer to
this letter, I had one from him to assure me the powder was innocent,
and to beg I would give it in gruel, or something thicker than tea.
Many more letters to the same effect I received, before I would give
it again; but most fatally, on the 5th August, I gave it to my poor
father, innocent of the effects it afterwards produced, God knows; not
so stupid as to believe it would have that desired, to make him kind
to us; but in obedience to Mr. Cranstoun, who ever seemed
superstitions to the last degree, and had, as I thought, and have
declared before, all the just notions of the necessity of my father's
life for him, me, and ours. On the Monday the 5th, as has been said, I
mixed the powder in his gruel, and at night it was in a half-pint mug,
set ready for him to carry to bed with him. It had no taste. The next
morning, as he had done at dinner the day before, he complained of a
pain in his stomach, and the heart-burn; which he ever did before he
had the gravel. I went for Mr. Norton at eleven o'clock in the
forenoon, who said, that a little physick would be right for my father
to take on Wednesday. At night he ordered some water gruel for his
supper, which his footman went for. When it came, my father said,
"Taste it, Molly, has it not an odd taste?" I tasted it, but found no
taste different from what is to be found in all good water gruel.
After this he went up to bed, and my father found himself sick, and
reached; after which he said he was better, and I went up to bed.
Susan gave him his physick in the morning, and I went into his
bed-chamber about eight o'clock; then I found him charming well. Susan
says that on my father's wanting gruel on the Wednesday, I said, as
they were busy at ironing, they might give him some of the same he had
before. I do not remember this; but if I did, it was impossible I
should know that the gruel he had on Tuesday was the same he had on
Monday; as that he drank on Monday was made on Saturday or Sunday, I
believe on Saturday night; much less imagine that she whoever made it,
and managed it as she pleased, would pretend to keep such stale gruel
for her master. Thursday and Friday he came down stairs. I often asked
Mr. Norton, "If he thought him in danger; if he did, I would send for
Dr. Addington." On Saturday Mr. Norton told me, "he thought my father
in danger." I said, "I would send for the doctor;" but he replied, "I
had better ask my father's leave." I bid him speak to my father about
it, which he did; but my father replied, "Stay till to-morrow, and if
I am not better then, send for him." As soon as I was told this, I
said, "That would not satisfy me; I would send immediately, which I
did; and Mr. Norton, the apothecary, attested this in Court." On the
same night, being Saturday, the doctor came, I believe it was near
twelve o'clock. He saw my father, and wrote for him: he did not then
apprehend his case to be desperate. I have been by this gentleman
blamed, for not telling then what I had given my father. I was in
hopes that he would have lived, and that my folly would never have
been known: in order the more effectually to conceal which, the
remainder of the powder I had, the Wednesday before, thrown away, and
burnt Mr. Cranstoun's letter: so I had nothing to evince the innocence
of my intention, and was moreover frightened out of my wits. Let the
good-natured part of the world put themselves in my place, and then
condemn me if they can for this. On Sunday my father said, "He was
better"; but found himself obliged to keep his bed that day. Mr.
Blandy, of Kingston, a relation of ours, came to visit us, stayed with
me to breakfast, and then went to church with Mr. Littleton, my
father's clerk. I went, after they had gone to my father, and found
him seemingly inclined to sleep; so let him, retired into the parlour,
and wrote to Mr. Cranstoun, as I did almost every post. I had, on the
Friday before, a letter from him; wherein some secrets of his family
were disclosed. As I wrote in a hurry, I only advised him to take care
what he wrote; which, as my unhappy affairs turned out, my enemies
dressed up greatly to my disadvantage at my trial. I gave this letter,
as I did all of them, to Mr. Littleton to direct, who opened it,
carried it to a friend of his for advice on the occasion, and conveyed
it to a French usher; who, by the help of it, published a pamphlet
entitled, _The Life of Miss Mary Blandy_. On Sunday in the afternoon,
Mrs. Mounteney and her sister came to see my father; who told them,
"He hoped he should soon be able to meet them in his parlour; since he
thought himself better then." Susan was to sit up with her master that
night. The Rev. Mr. Stockwood, Rector of the parish, came in the
evening to visit him; the apothecary was there likewise; and he
desired the room might be quite still; so that only Susan, the old
maid, was to be with him. After this I went up to my father's bedside;
upon which he took me in his arms and kissed me: I went out of the
room with Mr. Stockwood and Mr. Norton, the apothecary, almost dead,
and begg'd of the latter to tell me if he thought my father still in
danger. He said "he was better, and hoped he would still mend.
To-morrow," said he, "we shall judge better, and you will hear what
Dr. Addington will say." While Mr. Stockwood staid, Mr. Littleton and
Betty, my father's cook-maid, behaved tolerably well; but as soon as
he was gone they altered their conduct; however, upon Mr. Norton's
speaking to him, Mr. Littleton became much more civil; and Betty
followed his example. I took a candle, and went up into my own room;
but in the way I listened at my father's door, and found everything
still there; this induced me to hope that he was asleep. On Monday
morning, I went to his door, in order to go in: his tenderness would
not let me stay up a-nights; but I was seldom from him in the daytime.
I was deprived access to him; which so surprised and frightened me,
that I cried out, "What, not see my father!" Upon which, I heard him
reply, "My dear Polly, you shall presently;" and some time after I
did. This scene was inexpressibly moving. The mutual love, sorrow, and
grief, that then appeared, are truly described by Susannah Gunnel;
tho', poor soul, she is much mistaken in many other respects. I was,
as soon as Dr. Addington came, by his orders, confined to my own room;
and not suffered to go near my father, or even so much as to listen at
his door; all the comfort I then could have had, would have been to
know whether he slept or no; but this was likewise refused me. A man
was put into my room night and day; no woman suffer'd to attend me. My
garters, keys, and letters were taken away from me, by Dr. Addington
himself. Dr. Lewis, who it seems was called in, was at this time with
him; but he behaved perfectly like a gentleman to me. During this
confinement I had hardly any thing to eat or drink: and once I staid
from five in the afternoon till the same hour the next day without any
sustenance at all, as the man with me can witness, except a single
dish of tea; which, I believe, I owed to the humanity of Dr. Lewis. I
had frequently very bad fits, and my head was never quite clear; yet I
was sensible the person who gave these orders had no right to confine
me in such a manner. But I bore it patiently, as my room was very near
my father's, and I was fearful of disturbing him. Dr. Addington and
Dr. Lewis then came into my room, and told me "Nothing could save my
dear father." For some time I sat like an image; and then told them,
that I had given him some powders, which I received from Cranstoun,
and feared they might have hurt him, tho' that villain assured me they
were of a very innocent nature. At my trial, it appeared, that Dr.
Addington had wrote down the questions he put to me, but none of my
answers to them. The Judge asked him the reason of this. He said,
"They were not satisfactory to him." To which his lordship replied,
"They might have been so to the Court." The questions were these. Why
I did not send for him sooner? In answer to which, I told him, that I
did send for him as soon as they would let me know that my father was
in the least danger. And that even at last I sent for him against my
father's consent. This, I added, he could not but know, by what my
father said, when he first came on Saturday night into his room. The
next question was, why I did not take some of the powders myself, if I
thought them so innocent? To this I answered, I never was desired by
Mr. Cranstoun to take them; and that if they could produce such an
effect as was ascribed to them, I was sure I had no need of them, but
that had he desired this, I should most certainly have done it. It is
impossible to repeat half the miseries I went thro', unknown, I am
sure, to my poor father. The man that was set over me as my guard had
been an old servant in the family: which I at first thought was done
out of kindness; but am now convinced it was not. When Dr. Addington
was asked, "If I express'd a desire to preserve my father's life, and
on this account desired him to come again the next day, and do all he
could to save him," he said, "I did." He then was asked his sentiments
of that matter; to which he replied, "She seemed to me more concerned
for the consequences to herself than to her father." However, the
Doctor owned that my behaviour shewed me to be anxious for my poor
father's life. Could I paint the restless nights and days I went
through, the prayers I made to God to take me and spare my father,
whose death alone, unattended with other misfortunes, would have
greatly shocked me, the heart of every person who has any bowels at
all would undoubtedly bleed for me. What is here advanced, the man
that attended me knows to be true also, who cannot be suspected of
partiality. Susan Gunnel can attest the same. She observed at this
juncture several instances between us both of filial duty and paternal
affection.

On Wednesday, about two o'clock in the afternoon, by my father's
death, I was left one of the most wretched orphans that ever lived.
Not only indifferent and dispassionate persons, but even some of the
most cruel of mine enemies themselves, seem to have had at least some
small compassion for me. Soon after my father's death I had all his
keys, except that of his study, which I had before committed to the
care of the Rev. Mr. Stevens of Fawley, my dear unhappy uncle,
delivered to me. This gentleman and another of my uncles visited me
that fatal afternoon. This occasioned such a moving scene, as is
impossible for any human pen to describe. After their departure, I
walked like a frantic distracted person. Mr. Skinner, a schoolmaster
in Henley, who came to see me, as I have been since informed, declared
that he did not take me to be in my senses. So that no stress ought to
be laid on any part of my conduct at this time. Nor will this at all
surprise the candid reader, if he will but dispassionately consider
the whole case, and put himself in my place. I had lost mine only
parent, whose untimely death was then imputed to me. Tho' I had no
intention to hurt him, and consequently in that respect was innocent;
yet there was great reason to fear, that I had been made the fatal
instrument of his death--and that by listening to the man I loved
above all others, and even better than life itself. I had depended
upon his, as I imagined, superior honour; but found myself deceived
and deluded by him. The people about me were apprized, that I
entertained, and not without just reason, a very bad opinion of them;
which could not but inspire them with vindictive sentiments, and a
firm resolution to hurt me, if ever they had it in their power. My
cook-maid was more inflamed against me than any of the rest; and yet,
for very good reasons, I was absolutely obliged to keep her. My
mother's maid was disagreeable to me; but yet, on account of money due
to her, which I could not pay, it was not then in my power to dismiss
her. But this most melancholy subject I shall not now chuse any
farther to expatiate upon. I have brought down the preceding narrative
to my father's death, where I at first intended it should end.
Besides, I have now not many days to live, and matters of infinitely
greater moment to think upon. May God forgive me my follies, and my
enemies theirs! May he likewise take my poor soul into his protection,
and receive me to mercy, through the merits of my Mediator and
Redeemer, Jesus Christ, who died to save sinners! Amen.

The foregoing narrative, which I most earnestly desire may be
published, was partly dictated and partly wrote by me, whilst under
sentence of death; and is strictly agreeable to truth in every
particular.

MARY BLANDY.

Witness my hand.

Signed by Miss Mary Blandy, in the Castle at Oxford, April 4,
1752, in presence of two Clergymen, members of the University
of Oxford.

APPENDIX V.

LETTER FROM MISS BLANDY TO A CLERGYMAN IN HENLEY.

(From No. 8 of Bibliography, Appendix XII.)

The following is an answer to a letter sent Miss Blandy by a worthy
clergyman in Henley, upon a very extraordinary subject, and highly
deserves a place here:--

Rev. Sir,--I received yours, and at first felt all the horror
innocence so belied could do; but now, Sir, I look on it as a
blessing from God, both to wean me from this world, and make the
near approach of death less dreadful to me. You desire me, in your
letter, if innocent of my poor mother's death and that of Mrs.
Pocock, to make a solemn declaration, and have it witnessed; which
I here do. I declare before God, at whose dread Tribunal I must
shortly appear, that as I hope for mercy there, I never did buy any
poison, knowingly, whatever of Mr. Prince, who did live at Henley,
and now lives at Reading, or of Mr. Pottinger, an apothecary and
surgeon in Henley; nor did I ever buy any poison in Henley, or
anywhere else in all my life; that as for mother's and Mrs. Pocock's
death, I am as innocent of it as the child unborn, so help me God
in my last moments, and at the great Day of Judgment. If ever I did
hurt their lives, may God condemn me. This, Sir, I hope, will
convince you of my innocency. And if the world will not believe what
even I dying swear, God forgive them, and turn their hearts. One day
all must appear together at one bar. There no prompting of
witnesses, no lies, no little arts of law will do. There, I doubt
not, I shall meet my poor father and mother, and my much loved
friend (through the mercies of Jesus Christ, who died for sinners)
forgiven and in bliss. There the tears that cannot move man's heart
shall be by God dried up. Farewell, Sir, God bless you, and believe
me, while I live, ever Your much obliged humble Servant,

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