History of Delaware County, Pennsylvania, Part 45

Author: Ashmead, Henry Graham, 1838-1920
Publication date: 1884
Publisher: Philadelphia, Pa. : L.H. Everts
Number of Pages: 1150


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On the 15th of September Fitzpatrick was tried and convicted of burglary and robbery, and sentenced to be hanged. The Executive Council of the State approved the sentence, and designated the 26th day of the same month as the time when the execution should take place. While confined in the old jail in Chester, after conviction, Fitzpatrick made an effort to escape. He filed his chains and would have succeeded in his attempt had it not been that iron bars, imbedded in the masonry of the flue of the chimney, prevented his egress in that way, and the noise made in striving to break them out aroused his keepers. He was, there- fore, removed by order of Council to the then recently- erected prison on Walnut Street, Philadelphia, as a


place of greater security. There he twice broke his handcuffs off in one night, but was prevented from effecting his escape by the vigilance of the guards. The day previous to his execution he was conveyed to Chester.


On the morning of the 26th day of September, 1778, at the intersection of Providence and Edgmont Ave- nues, in North Ward, Chester, James Fitzpatrick met his fate. Tradition hath it that after the rope was adjusted about his neck and the cart drawn from be- neath the gallows he fell to the earth on his feet, and that by standing on his toes the strain on his neck was removed. This the hangman saw, and springing upon the shoulders of the doomed man, the increased weight forced the body down until James Fitzpatrick was actually strangled to death.


Joseph Bates, who had been convicted of burglary, was ordered by the Executive Council to be hung May 20, 1780, at two o'clock P.M., " at the usual place of execution 1 in Chester."


In May, 1780, William Boyd, a collector of the public taxes in Chester County, while in the discharge of his duties, was murdered by John aud Robert Smith, who, after the commission of the act, fled. President Jo- seph Reed, with the approval of the Executive Coun- cil, offered a reward of twenty thousand dollars for the arrest of the murderers. They were making their way across New Jersey to join the British army, in New York, when they were apprehended by Sheriff Furman, of Monmouth County. They were brought to Chester, where, June 26, 1780, they were tried, convicted, and ordered to be hung, at the usual place of execution, on Saturday, July 1st, four full days alone intervening between their condemnation and death.


On Oct. 26, 1784, the Executive Council directed a warrant to the sheriff of Chester County requiring the execution of Joseph Clark, John McDonnell, and John Varnum, alias Benson, who were then under sentence of death for burglary, on Tuesday, Nov. 2, 1784.


Elizabeth Wilson .- The unhappy life-history of Elizabeth Wilson is one of the most popular tradi- tions of Delaware and Chester Counties, and for nearly a century has been told and retold by the old residents of Delaware and Chester Counties and by their descendants, until many of the details, as so related, have gathered about the true narrative much that is unreliable if not absolutely false. Although I have striven to substantiate every item by careful in- vestigation, perchance some of the imaginary par- ticulars which have clustered around the sad, true history of Elizabeth Wilson may yet cling to the story in the present narration.


Elizabeth Wilson was the daughter of a farmer residing in East Bradford township, Chester Co., who in the conflict of political opinions preceding and during the Revolutionary war was earnest and honest in the advocacy of the crown. His means


1 The intersection of Edgmont and Providence Avenues.


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HISTORY OF DELAWARE COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA.


barely raised him above poverty, but he was esteemed and respected by the community in which he lived. His daughter, a bright, sprightly lass at the age of sixteen, was noted for her personal beauty, which as she matured was more and more conspicuous. At that time she became much interested in the religious exercises conducted by Elder Fleeson, an itinerant Baptist clergyman, who was earnest in his efforts to establish permanently the peculiar tenets of his faith in Chester County, wherein several congregations of that religious belief had existed from an early date.


The strong Tory sympathies of her parents caused him to regard the capture of Philadelphia, in 1777, as the harbinger of the good time approaching when the king should come to his own again, and Elizabeth, during the occupancy of the British army of that city, visited it, and remained for several weeks at the Indian Queen Inn, on Fourth Street, which at that time was kept by a distant relative of her parents. While there her loveliness attracted the attention of a young man, an incident which years afterwards brought her to an unnatural death,-that of a convicted felon.


After the war had ceased Elizabeth Wilson .again visited Philadelphia, for the attractions of the metrop- olis of the commonwealth, the glare and glitter of the city, had made such an impression on her mind that the quiet stillness of the country became distaste- ful to her, while the drudgery of rural life, much greater than in our day, she endeavored to avoid by seeking employment at the Indian Queen Inn, where as a relative, by rendering some service in the house- hold affairs, she was received as one of the family. The young man heretofore mentioned resided at the inn as a boarder, and Elizabeth, then in the full maturity of her beauty, became warmly, devotedly attached to him. His attentions were so marked that no doubt was entertained by her relatives in the city that a marriage between the young couple would ulti- mately result. They, like Elizabeth, did not suspect the traitorous heart of the young man, who, during the war, had acquitted himself as a bold, dashing officer. Sufficient it is to my purpose to state that the poor girl, unmarried, when on the eve of be- coming a mother, was informed by the parties with whom she was living in Philadelphia that she must withdraw herself from their dwelling.


Whither to go she knew not, but at length she de- termined to seek the shelter of her father's house, and learning that a farmer living in the same neigh- borhood with her parents was in the city, she asked the privilege of riding thither in his market-wagon. It was late in the night, in those days of early hours, that she alighted from the vehicle at the gate of her childhood's home, and, in great agony of mind and body, she wearily made her way to the door of the house, which stood some little distance from the high- way, and when there she was so exhausted that she could not rap for admission, but sank on the steps. Her moanings, however, aroused her father, who


raised the window and inquired, "Who's there ?" " A poor sick woman," was the faint response to his question. The old man's feeling of humanity was touched, and he and his wife-Elizabeth Wilson's step-mother-hurried to the door, and raising the poor girl, bore her to a settee, without recognizing her as their child. And then before morning Eliza- beth gave birth to two male children.


As soon as the mother had again strength she rode to Philadelphia to find the father of her sons, who had, a little while before their birth, absented him- self from the Indian Queen, giving out that he had gone away on business and would be absent some time. On her arrival in the city she found him. He received her apparently with pleasure, and after they had been together several hours she remounted the horse and returned to Chester County.


The Sunday following, while her parents were absent at worship, she dressed herself, and taking her babes with her left the house, stating that she was going to meet their father and be married. She walked in the direction of Newtown Square, and for a week (excepting a neighbor going along the road conveyed her a short distance in his wagon, from which she alighted on the King's Highway leading to Philadelphia, and seating herself on a rock on the roadside, near the farm of Mr. Cope, in East Brad- ford, where he last saw her nursing her infants) nothing more was heard respecting her for a week or more; although it afterwards appeared that about dusk the same day she came to the Indian Queen Inn, in Philadelphia, haggard, and exhibiting all the in- dications of an unsound mind. Her children were not with her.


A week or so after the disappearance of Elizabeth Wilson, while some gunners were traversing the woods on the east side of the Edgmont road, above Street road, their dogs discovered the bodies of two murdered babies hidden beneath a felled tree, a little earth and twigs having been thrown upon the corpses to conceal them from sight. The remains were imme- diately taken to her father's house,-for she was at once under suspicion,-where they were fully identi- fied by the clothing as her children. A coroner's jury was impaneled, and a verdict rendered charging the crime of murder on the absent mother. She was shortly thereafter arrested and lodged in the old jail in Chester. When taken into custody she remained silent, refusing to make any statement as to the deed, and a sluggish apathy marked her demeanor, saving at times when she would weep passionately and appeal to heaven for mercy.


When the Court of Oyer and Terminer for Chester County was held, the grand jury indicted her for murder and she was arraigned for trial, but to the clerk's inquiry, " How say you, prisoner at the bar, are you guilty or not guilty ?" she made no response save weeping violently. Judge Atlee (William Augustus Atlee, one of the puisne judges of the


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Supreme Court, appointed Aug. 17, 1777), kindly turning to the unfortunate girl, asked her whether she had counsel, and receiving a shake of the head in reply, he ordered that the plea of " not guilty" be taken, assigning also counsel to defend her. The ' latter asked that the trial might be delayed until the following day, so that he would be afforded an oppor- tunity to consult with his client and make prepara- tion for her defense, a request which was immediately granted.


The next morning when court assembled the pris- oner's counsel announced that he did not know, under the circumstances, what to do; that he had failed, despite his utmost efforts, to obtain a single word in answer to his questions from Elizabeth Wilson ; that he was impressed that there was something in this case so exceptionally out of the ordinary course of crime, that the ends of justice might be reached and an endeavor made to fathom the mystery he asked the bench to defer the trial to the next court. Judge Atlee, knowing that to proceed meant conviction for the prisoner, in the goodness of his heart ordered that the trial should go over to the following term.


During the interval an effort was made to solve the mystery which shrouded the murder in obscurity, while, notwithstanding the terrible consequences that would ensue to her if she still remained obstinately silent was made plain to Elizabeth Wilson, not a word could she be induced to say respecting the crime, but every interview with her terminated in an outburst of tears, which would continue for hours. When her case finally came up for trial, although the sympa- thies of the court and lookers-on were decidedly with the prisoner, the evidence produced all led to the conclusion that she was guilty of the crime for which she had been indicted. Attorney-General Bradford, at the conclusion of the address of the prisoner's counsel, refused to marshal the evidence for the gov- ernment, and when Judge Atlee came to charge the jury he turned to the accused and asked her, even at that late moment, to make some declaration, to say something in the terrible condition in which she then stood, but she merely shook her head, muttering, "I cannot! Jesus, have mercy on me !" Atlee, in his remarks, was brief, and simply defined the law of murder, without in any wise intimating to the jury his conclusions on the facts in the case. The latter, although no testimony had been offered for the de- fense, as an evidence of the general sympathy existing in the community, were several hours deliberating on the verdict, and it is related that as the foreman re- turned their finding, "Guilty," his voice was scarcely audible to those nearest him, notwithstanding the stillness in the court-room was intense. The judge immediately, as was then the custom, pronounced the sentence of the law, fixing the date of execution for Wednesday, the 7th of December, 1785.


While the friendless girl-for her parents, who had not forsaken her in her misfortune, now turned from


her when she was charged with murder, and had re- mained obstinately silent as to the accusation-was on trial, her only brother, William Wilson, was em- ployed on a farm in a retired part of Lancaster County, and, as news traveled slowly in those days, he was absolutely ignorant of the great danger in which his sister was then placed. But one morning, less than a week before the time fixed for her execu- tion, William, while engaged in his ordinary labor, suddenly stated to those with whom he was at work that he must immediately go to Chester, for he was wanted there. When he repaired to the house and in formed his employer (Dr. Fahnestock's grandfather, and the doctor narrated this incident), the latter strove to persuade him to remain, and desired to know why he was so anxious to go at that time. William merely responded, "I do not know, but I must go and find out what it is." And he immedi- ately set out for Chester, stopping as he journeyed thither at his father's house, where he learned for the first time of the children's birth, their deatlı, and that Elizabeth had been indicted, tried, and in a few days would be hanged for their murder. Without further delay he hastened to Chester, reaching here on the afternoon of Monday, the 3d of December, hardly forty-eight hours before the time designated for her execution. The imprisoned girl had been daily vis- ited, after her sentence, by Elder Fleeson and the rector of St. Paul's Church, and the former stated to Dr. Fahnestock that her constant prayer for several days before her brother actually came was that the Lord would direct William to her in her great ex- tremity. As soon as the latter had access to the prison, although he had partly promised his father that he would make no effort to have an interview with the woman who had brought such deep sorrow to her aged parent, and after the excitement conse- quent on his visit had in a measure subsided, Eliza- beth stated that she had something to communicate to him in private. He, however, replied that if it was purely a personal matter, he would consent, but if it was aught relating to the crime, he would not hear her unless two other witnesses besides the cler- gymen who were with her were present. It was court-week, and her brother requested Judge Atlee, Attorney-General Bradford, Sheriff Gibbons, aud the prisoner's counsel to come to the cell, and in their presence, at the repeated solicitation of William Wil- son, the condemned woman made a full confession, the substance of which was as follows :


That when she visited Philadelphia after the birth of her children, at the interview she had with her "undoer," he promised to meet her at Newtown Square on the Sunday following, at which time they would be married, and he would provide for the mother and her offsprings. On the day designated he met her, but it was several miles beyond the place appointed, where the road led through a dense woods. He received her with warmth of manner, and re-


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HISTORY OF DELAWARE COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA.


quested her to walk some distance aside, where they would be removed from the observation of persons who might be passing along the highway. The weary woman seated herself on the trunk of a felled tree, having both the children in her arms. After some conversation the man asked Elizabeth to permit him to take one of the children, that he might see whether it resembled him. He held the baby in his arms for a moment; then, after a pause, he laid it on the ground, and, snatching the other from its mother's embrace, deposited it alongside of its brother. The inhuman father thereupon demanded that Elizabeth should destroy her infants. She unhesitatingly re- fused to injure them, but in turn besought him to spare their lives, promising that if he did she would never more trouble him, but would work willingly, or even beg her and their daily bread, for the chil- dren were dearer to her than her life. He, however, brutally replied that he could have no mercy for a fallen woman or her sinful offspring ; and thereupon drawing a pistol, he pointed it at her, while at the same time he placed his feet on the infants' breasts, and, before she could prevent him, he crushed them to death. The murderer then compelled the un- happy woman, on peril of her life, to swear by her soul's everlasting welfare that she would never reveal the dreadful deed nor the name of the chief actor in the crime, but that she would tell all persons who might inquire for the children that they had been taken to New Jersey to nurse and be reared. In conclusion, Elizabeth Wilson declared, "To the truth of this statement I appeal to the Searcher of all hearts, before whose dread tribunal I am to appear next day after to-morrow."


The declaration of the prisoner was reduced to writing, and she swore to its truth, while the sig- natures of all present were attached to the document, attesting that the confession had been made in their hearing. Armed with this paper, William Wilson, night as it was, with all speed hastened to Philadel- phia to obtain a respite from the Executive Council, with what success the following extract from the Pennsylvania Colonial Record (vol. xiv. p. 591) ex- hibits :


" The petition of William Wilson, brother to Elizabeth Wilson, now confined in jail of Chester under aentence of death, accompanied by a confession of the said Elizabeth, was read, and, in consideration of the circumstances stated therein, it was Ordered,-That the warrant issued by the Board for the Execution of Elizabeth Wilson on Wednesday, the Seventh instant, be revoked, and that another issue, directory of her execution on the third day of January, 1788."


William Wilson, immediately after he had given proper notice to the authorities of Chester County of the action of the Supreme Executive Council, set off for West Jersey, where his sister's betrayer was said then to be living. He found him, and when con- fronted by Wilson, he declared that he did not know his sister, and had not been in Philadelphia for two years. Wilson thereupon returned to Chester, had an interview with Elizabeth, and succeeded in find-


ing a witness who would testify that the man whom she accused had not only been in Philadelphia and lodged at the same house with her, but he had pro- cured other important testimony to substantiate her charge, when he was taken severely ill. The time granted by Council had nearly expired, and sick as he was, William Wilson made his way to Chester, intending to go thence to Philadelphia for a further respite. When he reached this place in the after- noon he was astonished to learn that the stay of exe- cution would expire the next day, whereas he had thought it was not out until the day following. Im- mediately on learning of this error he hastened to Philadelphia through a heavy raiufall, and, accord- ing to a statement of one of the members of Council,1 " unfortunately he went to the President's (Dr. Frank- lin), where, notwithstanding all his entreaties, it was some time before he could get to see him, and when he did he stayed, endeavoring to persuade the doctor to give him a line to the sheriff, which the former, thinking it improper, refused, and directed him to me. I was just leaving. the Council-chamber when he came, all the other members but one having gone. I immediately wrote, 'Do not execute Wilson till you hear further from the Council,' and directed it to the sheriff. I well knew the board intended to grant a further respite."


Wilson started immediately on his return, the rain in the mean while having increased until it now de- scended in heavy torrents, and the road in places was submerged in the water which the wayside ditches could not carry away as fast as it fell. On reaching the Middle Ferry over the Schuylkill-there was no bridge at that time-he found it was impossible to get conveyance over the river on such a night as it was and in the pelting storm. At daylight the next morn- ing William was at the ferry, but the river, swollen by the preceding day's rain, was so threatening that the ferryman refused to attempt the passage of the stream, and, although Wilson told him that a human life hung on his movement, it was all in vain, he declined to endanger his own existence on any consideration. The hours were passing, and at last, fully assured that nothing would induce the ferryman to cross the river with the boat, William Wilson fastened the respite in the lining of his cap, which he placed on his head; then spreading a handkerchief over all, he tied the ends securely under his chin, and with great difficulty forced the horse he rode into the water. Right nobly did the animal breast the swiftly-flowing current which washed down the wide channel with terrific force, and in all probabilities it might have made the way safely to the other side had his course not been frequently impeded by drift-ice, and even heavy pieces of timber came driven onward by the flood, which, striking the beast, turned him repeatedly aside. At length, just when the edge of the current


1 Martin's " History of Chester," p. 185.


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on the western side of the river had been passed, and the most difficult part of the crossing had been over- come, the horse, completely exhausted, sank, leaving William Wilson to battle with the wildly-rushing waters. By this time a number of persons, despite the storm that was raging, had gathered at the ferry- house, and the utmost anxiety prevailed among them as they watched the bold swimmer struggling with the stream, which ran like a sluiceway to the Delaware. The remarkable muscular strength of the man served him well, and although, physically, he was greatly exhausted when he landed on the oppo- site shore, two miles below the point where he en- tered the river on the Philadelphia side, he imme- diately set about procuring another horse, and, after considerable delay, he started for Chester under spur and whip. The highway by this time was mid-leg deep with pasty mud.


About mid-day at the latter place the storm abated, and as no reprieve had come, Sheriff Gibbons ordered the preliminary arrangements to be made for the execution. Nevertheless, he determined to delay carrying out the sentence of the law to the last mo- ment possible under his warrant, and even after the prisoner had been placed in the cart and the proces- sion, followed by a large number of persons, was on its way to the usual place of execution, he stationed duly qualified deputies at some distance on the road to Philadelphia to notify him by white flags of the approach of William Wilson with the papers he believed he would bring staying the work of death. The solemn cortege had reached the place desig- nated,-a wild cherry-tree on "Hangman's Lot," at the intersection of Edgmont and Providence Ave- nnes, one of the branches extending some distance at right angles to the trunk, and whereon a little over seven years previously James Fitzpatrick had met his fate,-and the last moment designated for the execu- tion was at hand. The unfortunate culprit was or- dered to stand up in the cart, and the fatal noose was placed about her neck. There, in the presence of death, she reiterated that her former statement was true in every particular, then, after a few moments were spent in prayer, the last moment for carrying out the mandate of the law had come, and the cart in which she stood was drawn from beneath her feet. Elizabeth Wilson had been landed into eternity, but so engrossed were the spectators with anxiety for the coming of her brother that but few in the assembly knew when she was swung off, so intently were they watching the line of white flags leading to the Queen's Highway.


A deep silence followed, hardly a word was spoken for more than a quarter of an hour save in whispers, when in the far distance a tiny white flag was oh- served to be waved to and fro, to be caught up and repeated by the other flagmen, and a few moments thereafter a haggard, travel-stained man, bespattered with mud, bestriding a horse struggling from weak-


ness, that put forth renewed effort under the goading whip and spur, came into sight, holding in his hand at full arm's length a paper. The sheriff immediately cut the rope. The hoarse voice of the man shouting " A reprieve ! a reprieve !" was now audible, and a few moments thereafter William Wilson's horse fell, throwing the rider senseless, almost under the bough where his sister's body had lately been suspended. He came twenty-three minutes too late. The neck of the unhappy girl had been dislocated, and she had died without a struggle.




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