When Jane Gibbs quitted Westminster Hall on the twenty-fourth of October, the hootings of the rabble followed hard upon her heels. She had just been acquitted of a charge of assault preferred by an Admiralty messenger, the prosecutor having failed to sustain his initial narrative before the bench. The presiding magistrate directed that she be detained within the dock until the concourse should disperse, and Borrow records that the constables were compelled to shield her from violence. The verdict had done nothing to quell the clamour that encompassed her; the public already believed they knew her name, and all that it portended.
Borrow relates that she had departed her father’s farm at the age of thirteen, repairing to London to earn her bread by her needle. A laundress is said to have sheltered her without her mistress’s privity; thereafter, Jane drifted from one household to another, being at length dismissed from one place because she was dull of hearing and could scarce catch the bell—or so her own account ran. This biographical sketch derives wholly from the printed chronicle, and rests upon no independent inquiry.
A few weeks earlier, another trial had turned upon this self-same question of credit, though on that occasion Jane stood in the place of the prosecutrix. John Beck appeared at the Old Bailey, indicted for having robbed her in Kensington Gardens. She deposed that she had seated herself within an alcove, her needlework upon her knees, having lately recovered from an indisposition. A man took his seat beside her, inquiring where she lodged; she replied that she was no woman of easy virtue, and that he should take no liberties with her.
In her sworn testimony, Jane related that she drew forth a red morocco pocket-book to find change for a shilling, wherein she kept ten gold guineas and sundry other pieces. Beck, she alleged, invited her to take a turn with him. Another man entered the arbour and conversed with the prisoner; being hard of hearing, she declared, she was unable to comprehend their discourse. When left alone with Beck, he allegedly seized her by the arms, threw her back upon the bench, and, pressing his knee upon her to keep her down, wrenched the pocket-book from her grasp.
She asserted that she then pursued him through the gardens for nearly three-quarters of a mile before several bystanders came to her assistance. Beck, it was said, cried out, “A mad woman!” while she called lustily for help. Being overtaken, he reportedly confessed to having taken the money, which he picked up and returned to his pocket at the bidding of Captain Willis. He then endeavoured to prevail upon Jane not to convey him before a magistrate. A witness produced the coins, the description whereof answered to that furnished by Jane; Stephen Leyard and Thomas Winter confirmed under oath that they had joined in the hue and cry, and assisted in securing the prisoner.
Borrow’s relation sets forth another version from the mouth of the prisoner at the bar. Beck maintained that Jane had enticed him into the summer-house, soliciting him to accompany her to her lodgings and thence into the groves. He had met her, he declared, passing herself off as an officer’s widow. According to his tale, she snatched the money when he drew it from his pocket; he recovered it only after demanding its restitution, and then walked away. The labourers working near at hand, he urged, must needs have heard her cries had any violence been offered. Thus, both accounts ascribed to the other party the initial act of seizure.
Nor was Beck’s defence the sole circumstance to impair her deposition. Dr. Ford, who chanced to be present in court, declared that he had undergone an altercation of the self-same complexion with Jane. Borrow recounts that she had accosted the physician one night in an ill-lighted street, and upon his repulsing her advances, had straightway charged him with having robbed her. Sundry other men stepped forward, affirming they had encountered her in circumstances they deemed precisely similar; one recalled a dispute touching a handkerchief. More singular still, once the verdict had been returned, one of the jurors declared that he had himself suffered like treatment at her hands. Borrow styles this juror a respectable man, never pausing to examine a personal recollection divulged only after the issue had been determined. An officer, moreover, related that she had solicited money of him under the pretext of being out of service.
These several testimonies pertained to disparate occurrences, yet they altered the entire temper of the court. Spectators came forward unbidden. The printed chronicle marshals their statements as so many proofs of Jane’s “character,” though they established nothing as to what had truly transpired within the garden arbour. The jury, deeming they had heard sufficient, forthwith delivered a verdict of Not Guilty in favour of Beck. This acquittal did not establish the truth of the prisoner’s tale; it signified merely that the jury declined to sustain the indictment of robbery.
The public clamour that ensued far outstripped the judicial finding. Jane was hissed and hooted out of court, and the sheriffs were obliged to provide an escort of constables to screen her from the fury of the populace. Borrow then introduces an episode concerning an Admiralty messenger named Evans, whom she was alleged to have accosted in the Strand. Evans declared that she had walked beside him, charged him with having robbed her, and publicly raised the watch. William Blogg, to whom her name was known, advised Evans to convey her to the watch-house. There, the constable of the night affirmed that she pulled money from her pocket, declaring she had no need to extort coin from any man, possessing ample means of her own.
On this occasion, Jane’s own words directly contradicted the messenger’s narrative. She explained, moreover, how she came to be abroad: having journeyed in vain to Woolwich in search of a former master, she returned to find her lodgings let to another tenant. She had caused her trunk to be conveyed to a new address, whither her former landlord had followed her, persuading her new hosts to bar their door against her. According to her deposition, she was waiting near the church for a man to whom she was to render an account of her search. She stated that Evans had accosted her near St. Clement’s Church, pressing her to accompany him to the playhouse, and upon her refusal had reviled her and dragged her to the watch-house; she utterly denied having accused him of robbery. The examination concluded with her committal to the Westminster Sessions. At Tothill Fields Bridewell, she was immured in a separate cell to preserve her from the violence of the other prisoners. The magistrate deemed her demeanour incoherent, suspecting her of being disordered in her intellects; Borrow adds that she feigned deafness, yet could hear certain words well enough. These, however, are merely the observations recorded by the chronicler, not the findings of a formal medical faculty.
On the twenty-fourth of October, Evans declined to support his charge, and Jane was acquitted. This was the egress under guard set forth at the opening of our history.
Following the Westminster proceedings, Borrow traces her steps to Windsor. There she is said to have accused a porter named Silver of having robbed her of fifteen shillings during the journey between Slough and Eton. The magistrate, remarking her contradictions, dismissed the complaint. Certain inhabitants having recognised her, she shortly quitted the town. The work further records that she was subsequently confined in the New Compter, and thence removed to Bedlam, having been pronounced insane. The chronicler dwells upon her mutable humours—her sudden tears, her tremblings, her looks of defiance—yet adduces neither clinical report nor considered medical opinion.
Borrow attributes to her, at the moment of her removal, bitter weeping and a despairing protestation: she maintained to the last that she was not mad. A kinsman accompanied her. Thus the chronicle, which had so readily depicted her through the vituperations of others, preserves her solitary denial upon the very threshold of the asylum. What thereafter became of this woman, whose tale the tribunals had heard in so many guises, and whose destiny they so little determined, remains shrouded in oblivion.