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Across the lofty stone hall, and under the gate of the slaughter-house, the Sheriff and the Ordinary pass onward. There is a rush of chill, moist air through the open door, the bare wooden stairs reverberate with the tread of feet, and in another moment Fauntleroy, still supported by his friends, is standing upon the platform in the open street beneath the frowning wall of Old Bailey. Instantly every head in the dense crowd is uncovered. Yet this is not a token of respect for a dying man, but a time-honoured custom, so that the view of those in the rear may not be obscured. With eyes still closed, and his face turned towards Newgate Street, Fauntleroy moves under the cross-bar. Physical exhaustion is fast conquering him, and the officials hasten their task. In a moment the cap is slipped over his head, while Baker, accustomed to these scenes, speaks to him in earnest prayer. The halter is placed round his neck, and the loathly creature, whose expert hands have finished pawing their victim, glides swiftly from the scaffold. The Rev. Cotton continues to read from his book, but his eyes steal sideways furtively, and he throws a glance of meaning upon the man who has descended. An instant later, the Ordinary passes a handkerchief across his lips. It is the signal! There is a crash of falling timber, and to those in the street Fauntleroy appears to drop through the platform as far as his knees, and hangs swaying from the strong black beam which holds the cord that is gripping him by the throat. The bowstring of the unspeakable Turk is a more artistic but not a more cruel death.

The performance was an immense success, for a more stupendous throng had never gathered round the black walls of Newgate. Over one hundred thousand persons were said to have witnessed the entertainment, and reserved seats in the houses commanding a view of Debtors’ Door had been booked far in advance. At the ‘King of Denmark’ in the Old Bailey the sum of fourteen shillings was charged for a place; while at Wingrave’s eating-house and at Luttman’s, which were exactly opposite ‘the drop’ the price was as high as one pound. “Many respectable-looking females,” says the Morning Post, “were present at the windows, all attired in deep black.” A line of large waggons, hackney-coaches and cabriolets, all of which reaped a rich harvest, stretched from the corner of Giltspur Street and Newgate to Skinner’s Street, Snowhill, and every housetop was overflowing with holiday-makers.

It was a bitterly cold morning, with icy rain-storms and a chill mist, so the resolute thousands thoroughly deserved the enjoyment for which they set at defiance all the ills of the flesh. Most careful precautions were taken to avoid a repetition of the Haggerty-Holloway tragedy, when the mob saved James Botting – that worthy soul whose latter days were distressed by visions of ‘parties’ in nightcaps with their heads on one side – an infinite deal of trouble by trampling to death some fifty of its fellows. Six huge barriers stretched across Newgate Street at the corner of the prison, and there were two intermediate ones, to break the press, between that place and the scaffold; more were erected at the Ludgate Hill termination of Old Bailey, and within the barricade around the fatal platform were four hundred constables.

Sad to relate, the object-lesson was a failure in one instance, for Henry Norman, a fine-looking lad of fifteen, was charged at the Guildhall the next morning with picking a pocket, the owner of which was gloating over the spectacle of the strangled banker. It speaks highly for the integrity of our modern police force that, in these days of exclusive hangings, a nimble-fingered Robert has never tried to filch the watch of an impressionable Under-Sheriff. Or if he has, the public has not heard of it.

In these record-breaking times it is a common occurrence for a trusted attorney to embezzle half a million pounds, but before the achievements of Henry Fauntleroy all previous forgeries sink into insignificance. Poor Dodd surrendered all he stole, and Wynne Ryland’s fraud was, in its way, as artistic a performance as those of Thomas Chatterton, while a brief career of crime – as in the case of Henry Savary of Bristol, who was lucky enough to escape the gallows – ruined the brothers Perreau. James Bolland and John Rouvelett were low-born fellows; and although the public welcomed each as a first-class criminal, neither gained the same prestige as a forger of gentle birth. In a small way, Henry Cock, the lawyer, anticipated the Berners Street frauds, and two other cases bear some resemblance. Henry Weston, a man of good family and social position, who was hanged at the Old Bailey on the 6th of June 1796, disposed of stocks amounting to twenty-five thousand pounds in a similar manner to Fauntleroy; and Joseph Blackburn, one of the most respected of Leeds attorneys, who suffered a lingering death at York on the 8th of April 1815, committed innumerable frauds for a great number of years by transferring and altering the denominations of the old familiar blue stamps.

“Fauntleroy’s doom was so thoroughly recognised as well merited,” writes Mr Thornbury, sternly, about forty years after the event, “that although in 1832 every other kind of forger was exempted by law from the gallows, the hands of the hangman still hovered over the forger of wills and powers of attorney to transfer stock.” Yet, since the penalty was never inflicted, this argument appears superfluous.

Fauntleroy certainly is the prince of forgers, as truly as Jack Sheppard is the greatest of prison-breakers and George Barrington the finest genius among pickpockets. Although driven to crime in the first instance by moral cowardice and craving for self-indulgence, he must have possessed an almost Napoleonic confidence that his abilities would conquer misfortune. Too proud to surrender the terrible struggle, he refused to adopt the easy alternative of flight to France with his ill-gotten gains. When one tries to realise the stupendous task of manipulating figures of such magnitude for so many years, the brain reels. The regular payment of huge dividends lest the victims should become aware of their loss, the constant replacement of stock when discovery seemed to threaten, the repeated buying and selling in order to rob Peter to-day to pay Paul to-morrow, the daily juggling with the books, and adjustment of balances, added to the incessant vigilance lest the errors of a few figures should mean betrayal to partners or clerks – all these wonderful transactions show an example of mathematical legerdemain such as the world has seldom seen. When it is borne in mind that the man was playing for nearly ten years with sums amounting in the aggregate to half a million sterling, his title to the incomparable forger of all time cannot be challenged. But like many another who has contributed to the public amusement, his memory soon faded from the minds of all save his creditors. Scarcely had the curtain been rung down on the tragedy of Fauntleroy, when it rose again upon the entrancing drama of accommodating Miss Foote and wayward Mr ‘Pea-green’ Hayne.

Occasionally, but not often, we hear mention of the banker’s name, and there was a recent reference to it in one of the delightful novels of Anthony Hope.

“It is no longer a capital offence,” declares ribald Arty Kane, referring to forgery, and addressing charming Peggy Ryle; “you won’t be hanged in silk knee-breeches like Mr Fauntleroy.”

Part II. – Some Details of the Forgeries

The Berners Street bankruptcy.

No complete balance-sheet of the Marsh-Stracey bankruptcy appears to exist. The books of the firm seem to have baffled both the Commissioners and the assignees; and so artfully had Fauntleroy concealed his frauds, that even skilled accountants did not succeed in unravelling the whole of their mysteries. Contemporary newspapers furnish many important clues, but their statements, when not conflicting, are neither lucid nor exhaustive. Yet, although many details must remain obscure, it is possible to form a rough conception of the result.

The position of the bankrupts.

Since we know that the first dividend of 3s. 4d. in the pound (distributed to the creditors on the 7th of February 1825) absorbed a sum of £92,486, it is clear that Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company required a grand total of £554,916 to pay twenty shillings in the pound. Practically these figures are substantiated by the preliminary accounts presented at the meeting of the Commissioners on the 18th of December 1824, which state that the claims against the firm – excluding any liability to the Bank of England – amount to £554,148.

This estimate, however, is the only one of any accuracy made at the time, for the assets expected to be realised fell very short of the original calculation. A second dividend of 3s. 4d. was received by the creditors on the 30th of August 1825, and between that date and the appointment of the official assignee a further sum of £46,243 was distributed. Thus the total of the first three dividends – which were equivalent to 8s. 4d. in the pound – amounts to £231,215.

The bankruptcy return of Patrick Johnson (official assignee), published in 1839, shows that assets were collected subsequently amounting to £160,930, and thus the creditor side of the Berners Street ledger appears to have reached a total of £392,150.

From this balance of £160,930 – realised by the official assignee after the payment of the first three dividends – further distributions of 5d. and 1s. (being 9s. 9d. in the pound in all) were made respectively on the 23rd of December 1833 and the 9th of September 1835, and absorbed further sums of £11,560, 15s. and £27,745, 16s.

During September 1835 the claim of the Bank of England against Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company was compromised for a payment of £95,000 in cash; and a further sum of £11,000 for the expenses of working the Commission of Bankruptcy from the 16th of September 1824 to the end of the year 1833 must also be deducted. Therefore a balance of £15,628 – less any further costs – appears to have remained for payment of a final dividend. Although many of the newspapers state that this was made on the 7th of October 1837, unfortunately none of them give any particulars. Yet it may be conjectured that the unfortunate customers of the Berners Street Bank, after waiting for thirteen years, could not have received more than 10s. 6d. in the pound.

The following rough balance-sheet will explain the above account: —

The private estates of the partners.

The private estates of Messrs Stracey and Graham paid twenty shillings in the pound before the end of 1833; and upon that of Mr Marsh, the senior partner, who appears to have been indebted to the firm for a loan of £73,000, excluding his overdraft on his private account, a distribution of 17s. 6d. had been made before 1834. Little was received on Fauntleroy’s estate, as it was claimed almost entirely by the creditors of the Berners Street Bank.

Losses under Fauntleroy’s management.

It is now possible to form an estimate of the extent to which Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company were defaulters, and what were the losses under the Fauntleroy régime. The total receipts set against the claims of the creditors and the money stolen from the Bank of England, show a deficiency of £522,980. Thus: —

How the losses were incurred.

Although it would be difficult, with any degree of accuracy, to apportion under the separate charges this adverse balance of over half a million pounds, and although much must be left to conjecture, it is possible to explain some of the ways in which this vast sum was dissipated. At the outset, the suggestion – arising out of one of the pleas of Fauntleroy, and believed at the time – that the overdraft on loans to two of the partners was responsible for a deficit of £100,000, is refuted by the fact that both Messrs Marsh and Graham refunded eventually their obligations to the full extent. In like manner, the belief that large sums were lost owing to the necessity of reinvesting constantly the various stocks sold by Fauntleroy in order to avoid detection, overlooks the fact that, on the other hand, these transactions must have afforded similar opportunities for making a profit. It is probable that many such losses did occur; but since we may believe that the Berners Street Bank prior to the forgeries was earning an income of £7000 a year, it is likely that such an astute manager as Henry Fauntleroy would be able to cancel many of these losses through reinvestment by the profits he earned on the immense capital he had secretly appropriated.

(a) Loss of £160,000 in building speculations.

(b) £90,000 lost by paying dividends on the stolen stocks.

Although the forger’s estimate of the result of his building speculations is extravagant, the newspapers of the 20th of December 1824 make it clear that the Berners Street house must have lost in this manner £160,000. It is certain also that immense sums were absorbed by the payment of dividends to the proprietors whose stocks had been stolen. Nearly £7000 per annum must have been required for this purpose from the year 1816, and the sum would accumulate at compound interest, until, as some say, an annual fund of £16,000 was required. Setting aside all excessive calculations, we have the great authority of the historian of the Bank of England that £9000 to £10,000 a year was thus expended during the progress of the forgeries. Further than this, notwithstanding that the partners in the bankrupt firm were not entitled to any fraction of profit, the testimony of almost the entire press credits each of them with receiving an income of over £3000. At the examination of William Marsh, reported in the newspapers of the 1st of March 1825, it was proved that he was indebted on his private account for an overdraft of £26,000. As there is no reason to believe that Mr Stracey or Mr Graham had enjoyed a smaller income, a further deficit of nearly £80,000 is the result. And finally, as will be shown, there is an overwhelming weight of evidence to prove that the iniquitous Henry Fauntleroy, during the nineteen years he was a partner, dissipated at least £100,000. In addition, the repayment of the capital of Sir James Sibbald (who died the 17th of September 1819), which formed a large portion of £64,000 – the capital of the firm in 1814 – would swell the adverse balance still further. Leaving this out of the question, the facts stated above explain the deficit of £430,000; and with the material at our disposal any further solution would involve a more elaborate use of the methods of conjecture.

(c) Loss of £80,000 through payments to Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Graham.

(d) Fauntleroy spent £100,000.

To what extent did Fauntleroy participate in the proceeds of his forgeries?

When Fauntleroy made his famous declaration from the dock, he was endeavouring to refute the extravagant assertion that he had spent a sum of over four hundred thousand pounds in riotous living; and thus, led to the opposite extreme, he made the mistake of attempting to convey an erroneous impression of his frugality. Thus the statement that he had never enjoyed any advantage beyond that in which all his partners had participated seems to hint economy; but as Mr Marsh had overdrawn his loan account by £70,000, the proposition is irrelevant to the argument. Then, again, he confesses that the Brighton villa cost £400, but he is not candid enough to admit the expenses of his other establishments. The stern reality – that a thief cannot justify the expenditure of one pennyworth of stolen property – never entered his mind. Utterly false, however, is his answer to the charges of profligacy – outrageous though they were.

“It has been cruelly asserted,” he declares, “that I fraudulently invested money in the Funds to answer the payment of annuities amounting to £2200 settled upon females. I never did make such investment.”

No single tenet in Father Garnet’s doctrine of equivocation puts greater stress upon the truth. Whoever made the necessary investments – and the forger was shrewd enough not to let the transaction appear in his own name – there is certain evidence that he provided lavishly for his mistress Maria Fox. The lie is merely concealed in subtle language.

“Neither at home nor abroad,” continues Fauntleroy, “have I any investment, nor is there one shilling secretly deposited by me in the hands of any human being.”

Such an assertion goes far beyond the sophistry of the most misguided seventeenth-century Jesuit, for the Commissioners of Bankruptcy were soon to discover that he had squandered thousands on his friend Mrs Disney. His one denial in unequivocal terms is a deliberate falsehood.

“Equally ungenerous and untrue it is,” the forger proceeds, “to charge me with having lent to loose and disorderly persons large sums of money which never have and never will be repaid. I lent no sums but to a very trifling amount, and those were advanced to valued friends.”

No doubt this last declaration had reference to the rumour that he had squandered money upon the notorious Mary Ann Kent, ‘Mother Bang’ – who figures as ‘Corinthian Kate’ in Life in London– and its truth or falsehood must depend upon the exact definition of the term ‘large sums’ The criminal who had dealings with huge balance-sheets, naturally had a magnificent sense of proportion.

Fauntleroy’s expenditure.

Fortunately, there is evidence of some of the ‘prodigal extravagance’ that was laid at his door. The total loss of the Bank of England owing to the forgeries was £360,214, and the original claim of the directors against the Berners Street establishment was £250,000. So it seems that the balance was believed to have been spent wholly by Fauntleroy, and not placed to the credit of the partnership. The sworn testimony of Mr Wilkinson, an accountant employed by the assignees to examine the books of the bankrupts – although inclined to favour Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company – supports this assumption in the most decisive manner. Thus, in spite of his defence, it would appear that during his management the forger appropriated for himself a sum of over £100,000. These figures, moreover, are endorsed by the fair-minded James Scarlett, who made the same statement as Wilkinson in his speech for the defendants in the case of Stone and Others v. Marsh, Stracey & Company, which was heard on the 2nd of March 1826. To disregard such unanimous testimony is impossible.

How did Fauntleroy spend the money?

(a) Domestic expenditure £2000 a year.

It is quite credible that for a period of seventeen years (from 1807 to 1824) a man of Fauntleroy’s habits should expend an average income of £5000. Had each of his three establishments – in Berners Street, in Brighton, and at Lambeth – cost him as much as his moderate estimate of one – and none of them could have been less expensive – the total reaches £1200 a year. In addition to this, it is known that he allowed an annuity of £400 to his wife. Thus, as he kept horses and carriages both at London and the seaside, his lowest annual domestic expenditure must have been at least £2000, or £34,000 over the period. Although the house at Fulham was one of his later extravagances, there were others that had taken its place previously.

(b) Freehold property £10,000.

The villa, land and furniture at Brighton, sold after his death, realised nearly £7000 – the residence alone is said to have cost him this amount; and since he was the owner of a mews and six houses in Bryanston Square, and two other houses in York Street, his freehold property, on a moderate estimate, must have been worth £10,000.

(c) Maria Fox £10,000.

From the reports of the trial of Maria Fox at the Lewes Assizes in April 1827, we gather that Fauntleroy settled on his youthful mistress £6000, besides an annuity of £150, “of which the assignees,” said John Adolphus, her counsel, “through the advice of a worthy gentleman, Mr Bolland, were not so cruel as to deprive her.” Thus another £10,000 is added to the banker’s debt.

(d) Mrs J. C. Disney, £10,000.

During the month of December 1824 the London papers are full of insinuations with regard to Fauntleroy’s improper connection with a Mrs James C. Disney, and the letter from the lady’s husband, which appeared in the New Times on the 24th of December, substantiates unwittingly much of the truth of the story. It is certain that the creditors of Marsh, Stracey & Company recovered large sums from this Mrs Disney, who had been the recipient of Fauntleroy’s bounty to an extent exceeding the limits of platonic love, and according to The Times the amount refunded was £10,000. Although many reports state that she received twice this sum, it is sufficient for the purpose to accept the lesser figures.

Thus there is almost complete evidence that Fauntleroy’s expenditure under three heads – domestic expenses, freehold property, and the two mistresses above mentioned – absorbed a sum of £64,000. It is not unreasonable to suppose that the man who could squander this money in less than seventeen years, while his firm was in so dire a plight, was capable of spending double the amount. It is improbable that his various establishments cost him no more than £2000 a year; and if The Times of the 1st of December is to be believed, he confessed that he had enjoyed a very much larger income. The age of pinks and bloods was as extravagant as our own, and many luxuries of life were more expensive. Fauntleroy was a patron of ‘Corinthian Kate’; and if Pierce Egan is an authority, we may conjecture – in spite of her denial to Joseph Parkins – that the unfortunate banker found her an expensive luxury. Like the great man whom he took a pride in fancying he resembled, it is notorious that the forger had a weakness for what his contemporaries termed ‘ladybirds’ and was in this respect a dissipated and worthless fellow. Moreover, he was celebrated for his costly dinners and rare wines – there is the grisly story of the friend who urged him as a last request to tell where he purchased his exquisite curaçoa – and he seems to have denied himself no luxury. Although it is not possible to give a complete explanation of Fauntleroy’s expenditure during the years of his race to ruin, it is satisfactory to know some portion of the details, and they show, through all possible coats of whitewash, that he was guilty of the most prodigal extravagance.

The conduct of the partners.

Since the partners of the Berners Street Bank were censured for gross negligence in two courts of law, it is not surprising that their creditors should have treated them with intolerance. At first the public had regarded them as unfortunate dupes, and it was not until Fauntleroy had made his defence that a popular outcry arose. It seemed incredible that three men of the world should have thrown the heavy burden of managing a firm, weighed down by embarrassments, upon the shoulders of a youth of twenty-two, and equally preposterous that, in the face of losses reaching into hundreds of thousands, the young man’s colleagues should have remained easy, trusting, asleep. Yet, in spite of the onslaught of the London press, and the clamour of the noisy creditors, headed by Joseph Parkins and his fellows, beneath the roof of the ‘Boar and Castle’ and the ‘Freemasons’ Tavern,’ it is certain that Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Graham were innocent of all guilty complicity in their partner’s frauds. The statements that had aroused the storm against them proved to be baseless or exaggerated. It has been shown that the Berners Street Bank did not lose £270,000 in building speculations between 1810 and 1816, as Fauntleroy suggested, and to meet the loss that did occur a large sum was raised by the supporters of the firm, to which William Marsh contributed £40,000. Thus, considering the reticence of their manager, there was good reason why the partners should believe that they had weathered the financial panic which brought to ruin so many of their contemporaries.

Modern commerce estimates more accurately the value of youth than the age of Mr Walter the Second; and as young Fauntleroy, who was one of the smartest bank managers in London, accepted his responsibilities with zest and cheerfulness, it is not surprising that he became the autocrat of the firm. Moreover, the juggler who could deceive the clerks working at his elbow day by day would have no difficulty in satisfying the periodical curiosity of sleeping-partners. Fat profits rolled into their coffers, and, like many another good easy man, they did not pause to look a gift horse in the mouth. Fools they were, and must remain, but in the end the world ceased to suspect their honour.

Still, their credulity was remarkable. All three of them appear to have been the instruments of most of the frauds, attending at the Bank of England to make the transfer under the forged powers of attorney, and instructing brokers to dispose of the stolen stocks and bonds. In one particular, however, the conduct of Marsh and Stracey appeared dubious. On the day of Fauntleroy’s arrest the daughter of the former cashed a cheque for £5000, while the latter drew out over £4000 in the name of his father. The trick was discovered, and restitution made to the creditors.

The Bank of England’s claim.

As might be supposed, the Bank of England received little sympathy either from the press or from the people. The directors never disputed their obligation – as managers of the public debt – to refund to the rightful proprietors the whole of the stocks that had been stolen, but they made every effort to enforce their claim against the Berners Street firm – amounting to a quarter of a million – which they contended that Fauntleroy had placed to the credit of his house. It was soon made clear by law that Messrs Marsh, Stracey & Company were responsible to the stockholders, who had been defrauded by their managing partner, and thus were equally responsible to the Bank, whose debt was similar to that of the stockholders. The chief obstacle to the enforcement of the Bank’s claim lay in the fact that the proprietors of the stolen stocks were clients, and, as a natural consequence, creditors also of Marsh, Stracey & Company. Being aware that the directors were legally compelled to replace their missing Consols and Exchequer Bills, they raised a great clamour against the claim of the Bank, for naturally they perceived that if it was enforced the cash balances in their Berners Street pass-books would be diminished. This difficulty compelled the Bank to seek the consent of the Courts to permit them to claim from the bankrupts the lump sum that had been restored to the stockholders, so that it would not be necessary to bring forward reluctant persons to prove each separate debt. Lord Chancellor Lyndhurst ruled, however, that each transaction must be established to the satisfaction of the Commissioners of Bankruptcy in the usual way, and thus the Bank was driven to depend upon the stockholders. Since the claim of half a million was compromised for a payment of £95,000, we may conclude that the majority of the Berners Street creditors were not disposed to assist the rival claimant to a share of their dividends.

The transfer of stock.

Much has been written of the lax methods of transferring stock in vogue at the Bank of England. As the frauds were so slovenly that Fauntleroy’s clerks had no difficulty in detecting their employer’s handwriting in the signature attached to the forged power of attorney produced at the trial, it is plain that the crimes could not have continued for so many years unless a most careless system had prevailed. The Berners Street swindle showed that it was possible for any applicant with whom the clerks at the Consols Office were acquainted to complete the transfer of another person’s securities, provided only that he possessed a knowledge of the exact value of the particular stock he wished to appropriate. A power of attorney seems to have been as readily acted upon as obtained, and no comparison of the real owner’s signature appears to have been made. This danger was pointed out subsequently at a meeting of the Court of Proprietors, and a shareholder made the wise suggestion that when any transfer was made immediate notice should be sent to the proprietor of the stock.

Yet checks and precautions did exist at the Bank of England in the days of Henry Fauntleroy. The purchasers of securities were recommended to protect themselves from fraud by accepting themselves – that is to say, by signing – all transfers of stock made to them, thus giving the officials of the Bank the opportunity of comparing the handwriting of the proprietor whenever necessary. Still, the investing public rarely complied with this regulation, and Fauntleroy must have been aware that there was no danger of detection on this account.

Although forgery of such a description is more difficult in these days, yet prudence should neglect no safeguard that does not impede the business of everyday life. A signature, however much resemblance it has to its original, may still be a forgery, and personal attendance might be simulated by a bold and plausible scoundrel. The most sure precaution is the one suggested on the 17th of September 1824 by the nameless proprietor, that whenever a transfer is lodged immediate notice shall be sent to the holder of the stock.