Robert Parker, Solicitor
Parker Esq. The Square, Halifax
November 7th 1769
To: Lord Wentworth, Lord of The Treasury
My Lord,
I write with grave news of the callous murder of Supervisor William Deighton near his home in Bull Lane Close in the town of Halifax where I hold practice.
It is of my opinion that this deed was committed by members of a gang of Counterfeiters and forgers of the King’s crown widely known as the Cragg Vale Coiners and others times as the Turvin Clippers, on account of the remote township where their leader David Hartley does dwell.
As previously written, I had of late been assisting Mr. Dighton, a family man of good standing, in his endeavours to bring these Forgers to account and in this we had successfully made the Arrest of the aforementioned David Hartley, who resides in York Castle where he is awaiting his Punishment which is more than likely to be execution. It is also of my Opinion that members of his family or their gang are responsible for the murder of Mr Deighton.
I request that this case be taken on by you in your position as Lord Treasury, and seek your humble advice on the direction in which to proceed.
I am, humbly yours, &c,
Robert Parker
Solicitor, Court of the King’s bench.
Last Friday morning, (10th inst.), betwixt Twelve and One o’Clock, as Mr Dighton, Supervisor at Halifax, who lived about Half a Mile from that Place, was going towards Home, when he had got within a Hundred Yards of his own door, some desperate Villains, who, it is supposed, had planted themselves for that Purpose, fired at him, and the Ball, entering his Head, he instantly expired; after which, the hardened Wretches took about Ten Guineas out of his pockets, and, from the Marks upon the Body, are supposed to have stamped upon and otherwise abused it. As Mr. Dighton has been extremely active in unkenelling and bringing to Justice the Clippers, Coiners, &c, it is generally believed some of that infamous Gang have perpetrated this inhuman Murder. One Person, we hear, is already apprehended, and the strictest Search is making after others.
Mr Dighton’s Death is greatly lamented; he has left a Wife and seven Children, which, we doubt not, will be well provided for. A few Days ago George Thompson, belonging to this part of Yorkshire, was apprehended in Pilgrim Street, Newcastle, for clipping and diminishing the Gold Coin of this Kingdom; and on Tuesday he was committed to Newgate in that Town, by the right Worshipful the Mayor.
Leeds Mercury. November 14th 1769
Lord Weymouth, Lord Of The Treasury.
St. James’s, Nov 14th 1769
To: Charles Watson-Wentworth, former Prime Minister, Second Marquess Of Rockingham and Vice Admiral Of Yorkshire.
My Lord,
It having been represented to me that a gang of Villains near Hallifax have for some years past made a practice of diminishing the coin, and of late years of coining Portugese Pieces, that the practice was become so common that it put the merchants under great difficulties with regard to their payments: that prosecutions were set on foot last summer, and that by the activity of Dighton, Supervisor of the Excise, seven or eight of the gang have been taken and committed to York Castle, but that others of this gang, suspecting what was likely to be their Fate, repeatedly vowed revenge against Mr. Deighton and waylaid him on the 9th inst, and shot him dead, near his own house. I laid the state of this matter before the King, and by his Majesty’s Commands have inserted in the Gazette an advertisement for a reward of £100 for discovering the person or persons concerned in this murder, and offered the King’s pardon to all except the Principal Offender.
I am further commanded to recommend this matter to your Lordship, not doubting but that your Lordship will take such steps as you shall think most likely to put a stop to a practice so very dangerous to a trading town, and of course that will exert yourself in such measures as will bring the guilty to condign punishment, and thereby restore security to that part of the country where some of the inhabitants are so much alarmed that they talk of being obliged to leave it.
I am, with great respect &c.,
Lord Weymouth
Lord Of The Treasury.
Notice: Whereas, It hath been humbly represented to the King that Mr. Dighton, one of His Majesty’s Supervisors of the Excise at Halifax, in the county of York, was, in the night of the 9th instant, inhumanly shot and murdered within a few yards of his own house by some malicious person or persons unknown, his Majesty for the better dis-covering and bringing to justice the person or persons concerned in the said murder, is hereby pleased to promise his most gracious pardon to any one (except the person who actually shot the said Mr. Dighton) who shall discover his or her accomplice or accomplices theirin, so that he, or she, or they may be apprehended and convicted thereof.
And, as a further encouragement, his Majesty is hereby pleased to promise a reward of one hundred pounds to any one of them (except as before excepted) who shall make such discovery as aforesaid, the said reward to be paid by the right Right Honourable the Lords Commissioners of his Majesty’s Treasury, upon conviction of any one or more of the offenders.
– Weymouth, Lord Of the Treasury.
London Gazette. November 14th 1769
James Broadbent was dragged from his bed. Snatched at sunrise, shivering beneath his coarse wool blanket, he was taken over to Halifax in a carriage cornered by four of the sheriff’s bailiffs.
The solicitor Robert Parker was awaiting him in his chambers. This time he was not as hospitable as when he had first received the large and awkward man in his home. Nor did he sit on ceremony. He dismissed the bailiffs and gestured to James Broadbent to take a chair.
We know you are implicated in the murder of William Deighton, he said curtly. And damnation will see you pay.
That’s fresh pig scat is that, snapped James Broadbent. That’s just plain ligging. I never shot no black devil.
I didn’t say anything about him being shot.
James Broadbent scowled.
Everyone knows he had a head full of balls. The voices of the valley have spoken.
Indeed they have, said Robert Parker. And the voices say that you, as usual, are involved.
I’m no blabber.
But it is already long established that you are.
I’d rather hang.
Then hang you shall because there are five dozen Coiners who will put you there in Bull Lane with your eye staring down the barrel at that poor man.
James Broadbent remained indignant.
I never shot no Deighton. I knew him.
Precisely. You knew him and he owed you money. So in the eyes of the law you are the most likely culprit.
Me and one thousand others.
You’re the only one they’re naming
James Broadbent shook his head.
That’s not right, is that.
You have no friends, felon. Only me.
Ballcocks, spat James Broadbent. You’re no fucking friend.
Perhaps not, but I brought you here.
So?
I brought you here when I could have handed you straight to the sheriff. Or, worse, to Rockingham.
Who the fuck is Rockingham?
He is your former Prime Minister, said Robert Parker, making no attempt to hide a mixture of bemusement and contempt for James Broadbent’s ignorance.
I’ve never heard of him.
Nevertheless, continued the solicitor. He is a man so powerful he could have you strung up by your innards right out there in the street – and be thanked by his people for doing it. The Marquess Of Rockingham occupies a world that you could never imagine. He has the ear of the King, who himself now demands that prosecutions for the senseless slaying of my friend and colleague William Deighton are to be brought with no public expense spared.
James Broadbent was confused.
King David?
Robert Parker smiled gently. He shook his head.
The King of England, you fool; the man who wants Deighton’s killers brought to account. And as a representative of the King’s bar here in Halifax that is exactly what I intend to do. Looking at the evidence presented to me to date it’s as likely that you as anyone pulled the trigger.
That’s not just.
No, you are right. And I am ultimately a man of law. So I intend to see justice served.
James Broadbent looked down. His gnarled and knotted hands were clasped together in his lap. For the first time before the solicitor he looked defeated. He spoke quietly.
If I give you names will I be spared prosecution for this crime I did not commit?
That depends whether they are those of the killers, said Robert Parker. Or just the latest monikers plucked from your fanciful imagination.
I’m done for anyway.
Not necessarily.
Isaac Hartley, said James Broadbent without hesitation. It was he who raised the finger on the shooting of the devil Deighton.
Isaac Hartley shot him?
No. Not shot him. It was he who paid the lads to do it.
What lads?
James Broadbent looked at Robert Parker. He blinked.
Well? said the attorney.
They’re two rum bastards who work over Sowerby way. One lives up Wadsworth and that’s all I know. Dogs, they are.
Their names, said Robert Parker. I need names or descriptions at the very least.
Two right mean-eyed beasts they are, said James Broadbent. Not Coiners either.
Not Coiners?
No. Outsiders.
Why?
James Broadbent shrugged.
Because the Hartleys are all sack and no balls, that’s why. And because these two men would as soon as kill for a handful of coins as comb their hair.
Their names then.
James Broadbent sniffed.
Their names, said Robert Parker again. I’ll not repeat myself.
Robert Thomas is the name of one. Matthew Normanton is the other.
Robert Parker nodded.
James Broadbent looked to the door.
Can I go then?
Yes, said Robert Parker. You can go to York Castle, where you old friend David Hartley is in residence. The sheriff has a warrant on you for counterfeiting, forgery, violence and complicity to murder. His men are waiting outside.
James Broadbent stood so quickly his chair fell backwards.
You son of a tip rat, he said. You chissum gargler.
Robert Parker whistled and the bailiffs entered.
You can see to the turncoat’s transportation to York now.
James Broadbent’s curses were muffled by the hand of a bailiff as he was manhandled out of the room.
Employed by the solicitor, the sheriff’s officers and his bailiffs moved quickly upon Robert Parker’s instructions to bring in the killers.
Robert Thomas was sitting on a stool outside his house high up Wadsworth banks changing his shoes when the men emerged from the cluster of trees that blocked the craggy skyline behind his one-room dwelling.
On his feet he was wearing clogs made of wood and leather and beside him were shoes with broadheaded nails riven into the soles. The men formed a semi-circle around Robert Thomas as the sheriff’s officer stooped and picked up one of his shoes. He examined the spikes. He touched a finger to them.
Are you just coming or going? asked the sheriff’s officer.
Robert Thomas shrugged and reached into his breast pocket for his pipe. All the men could see that his hands were shaking. He took a twig and busied himself with cleaning the bowl.
Where were you last night?
Robert Thomas cleared his throat. He squinted up at the man.
I was with one of Old Rose’s shagbags, he said. Two of them in fact. You can ask them yourself.
And where were you the night before?
Same.
One of the bailiffs laughed, but a glance from the sheriff’s officer silenced him.
The officer turned and surveyed the valley.
It is a nice view from up here.
I don’t notice it, said Robert Thomas.
You can see all the way across to Bell House.
I don’t know it.
You don’t know the house of your king?
He’s not my fucking king.
Yet you know which king I’m speaking of. The one whose dirty deeds you do.
I’m no coin clipper, said Robert Thomas, if that’s what you’re saying.
The officer turned back to face him. He reached into his coat.
Let’s not turn this into a jamboree. I’ve a warrant with your name inked on it.
I’ve no cause to learn the reading.
Well you do now. I’m here to take you in.
Then you should take me in.
Is that all that you have to say?
Robert Thomas put the pipe between his teeth but the sheriff’s officer stepped forward and swiped it out of his mouth. It fell to the ground and the stem broke.
Don’t you want to know the charge?
Robert Thomas squinted at him again. He clasped one of his shaking hands in the other.
I’m not so curious.
The sheriff’s officer sneered at the murderer’s arrogance.
A barbarous and stone-hearted bloody murder of a good innocent man is the accusation.
He raised Robert Thomas’ shoe.
And this fits the description of the weapon used in the deed.
It’s a queer looking gun is that, said Robert Thomas.
The sheriff’s officer shook his head.
You won’t be laughing when you hang.
I’m not laughing now.
I see you don’t deny the accusation.
I can’t deny what I don’t know.
Deighton, said the sheriff’s officer. The taxman William Deighton is the one you murdered.
With a shoe?
Yes, with a shoe. And guns and fists. There’s a man down Brearley who says you made a confession.
Robert Thomas hesitated. His left eyelid fluttered.
No, not I, he said. It must be another Bob Thomas.
See how he pales, said the officer to his men. It’s as if someone has driven a spigot into him and drained his blood.
If you and a man down Brearley say it is so, then it must be so, said Robert Thomas. I am but a humble grain thresher—
And a killer.
—but you are a man of law and he is a man down Brearley.
That I am, said the officer. That I am. You’ll miss this view, I expect.
When you’ve seen valley rain once you’ve seen it a thousand times. I’m pig-sick of it, I am.
You’d rather the rope than a drop of rain?
Rope or rain or a day threshing grain, said Robert Thomas. I take each as it comes.
On Saturday last the Man who was taken up on suspicion of murdering Mr Deighton, Supervisor through the reward offered by his Majesty, and the Persuasions of the Gentlemen of Halifax, impeached other persons, supposed to have been connected with the above Murder, who was apprehended on Sunday at a place called Wadsworth Banks, about five miles from Halifax, and as they were to be examined yesterday, it is expected they will be very soon committed to York Castle.
One of the Persons had on a Pair of very strong Shoes, and Nails, with large Heads, drove into them; on which he was interrogated whether it was with them he stamped upon Mr Deighton’s Body; but he refused to give answer to that, as well as to several other Questions which were put to him.
Leeds Mercury. November 21st 1769.
James Broadbent, Robert Thomas and Matthew Normanton, the persons
taken up on Suspicion of murdering Mr. Dighton, as mentioned, in our last, were brought to this Town, and on Thursday Morning moved to York Castle.
Broadbent, who was first taken up and informed against the Others, fixes the Murder upon Thomas, and, to strengthen his Evidence says: that being all Men upon the Watch, he was stationed about the Length of a field from the rest; that at the time the murder was actually committed he was asleep, and that the Report of the Blunderbuss awaked him; whereupon he got up, and soon after Thomas coming to him said I have done for him, &c. Thomas and Normanton, while they were in this Town, seemed much cast down, and seldom spoke, except that Thomas was observed to ask Broadbent, in a low Tone, what he thought of himself by accusing him, when he knew he was innocent of the Matter.
Leeds Mercury. November 28th 1769.
Oh but I laffed when I did see the ratt man himself Jamyes Brordbent brung up to York and not only Broadbent but some other men whose faces I new but naymes I did not but soon disccuvvered were Tommas and Normytunne The two men who it was said did for the devil Deighton with guns and his feet Them boyes what our Isaac did pay good ginnys too to bring that man down but them been big stiff idjuts they soon got themselves cort by the collar of the law the fuckern donkeys Me eyed have made shoo no cunt cortus.
Brordbent you rat I’ll skin you alive I spits through the bars of my cell as the rat bastid skulked pass that first morning Broadbent you yellor dog I’ll stitch your scut hole shut and feed you moldy parsnips all day long And he flinched when he saw us Achulay he shattern his britches as right he shud And he goes King David and I says Dunt say a word ratman fat use you turned out to be well its the sells for you now and a lifetime of me on your back and that’s a promis I tell thee And he says Its all a mistayke King David that black bastid Dighton had me but now he’s done for and I am an innersent man as are you so I reckon to thinken that all will be well wans this missunnerstandin is cleared up like And I shake my head and point my grubby finger and I goes Broadbaint you are indeed a worm and like a worm I’m going to chop you in half and then half again and wans more still you skwirming turd you.
Charles Watson-Wentworth,
Second Marquess Of Rockingham & Vice Admiral Of Yorkshire
November 26th 1769
Sir,
The late violent outrage committed at Hallifax, and the great Height to which the dangerous and villainous practice of clipping and coining is now risen, requires in every consideration that the utmost attention should be shewn in order to detect the guilty, and to put a stop to a practice so ruinous and detrimental to Trade and Credit, and so injurious to the public in general.
The Gallows Pole Page 26