With news of the extraordinary events radiating to every town and port, friends and allies throughout the country rallied to Mary's cause. Horrified to hear of Bowes's latest villainy, Robert Thompson, the sacked Gibside gardener, swore that he would save his mistress or 'dye on the spott'.22 Receiving the alarming news in Cambridge, Mary's seventeen-year-old son John set off on horseback to rescue the mother he had not seen for six years. 'The young Earl of Strathmore', the Receiving the alarming news in Cambridge, Mary's seventeen-year-old son John set off on horseback to rescue the mother he had not seen for six years. 'The young Earl of Strathmore', the English Chronicle English Chronicle told readers, 'has set out for the north, and is determined to liberate his mother out of her present disagreeable situation at the risk of his existence.' told readers, 'has set out for the north, and is determined to liberate his mother out of her present disagreeable situation at the risk of his existence.'23 Even the Duke of Norfolk, Bowes's old drinking chum and bail guarantor, sent messengers to friends in the north urging them to join the rescue efforts. And once they learned that Bowes had barricaded himself in at Streatlam, local miners besieged the house, hollering for Mary's release and lighting immense fires in an effort to prevent her being removed under cover of darkness. Watching the castle night and day, armed with guns, swords and bludgeons, the formidable force was variously estimated at two hundred, three hundred and even five hundred angry and determined men illuminated by 'great blazing coal fires' positioned in every avenue. Even the Duke of Norfolk, Bowes's old drinking chum and bail guarantor, sent messengers to friends in the north urging them to join the rescue efforts. And once they learned that Bowes had barricaded himself in at Streatlam, local miners besieged the house, hollering for Mary's release and lighting immense fires in an effort to prevent her being removed under cover of darkness. Watching the castle night and day, armed with guns, swords and bludgeons, the formidable force was variously estimated at two hundred, three hundred and even five hundred angry and determined men illuminated by 'great blazing coal fires' positioned in every avenue.24 While the miners were evidently prepared to risk their lives to deliver Mary from her ordeal, others were seemingly more resigned to her plight. Informed of events by Colpitts, Mary's aged aunt, Margaret Liddell, in Durham promised to launch inquiries in the neighbourhood to ascertain her niece's whereabouts but added lamely, 'I dare say he will send her abroad.'25 Another correspondent, relating the news that had captivated the region, suggested, 'she is most likely a Prisoner for Life'. And one witness, reporting details of Mary's journey through Yorkshire, antic.i.p.ated an even worse fate, writing, 'It's a dammed rascally affair . . . I hope he will not be vilain enough to do her away.' Another correspondent, relating the news that had captivated the region, suggested, 'she is most likely a Prisoner for Life'. And one witness, reporting details of Mary's journey through Yorkshire, antic.i.p.ated an even worse fate, writing, 'It's a dammed rascally affair . . . I hope he will not be vilain enough to do her away.'26 Although temperatures hovered close to freezing, the unyielding pitworkers gave a warm reception to Thomas Ridgeway when at last he approached Streatlam Castle with his doc.u.ments in hand on 13 November. To n.o.body's surprise the tipstaff was gruffly refused entry by one of Bowes's hoodlums but when Ridgeway noticed a smartly dressed figure answering to Bowes's description at one of the windows, he pushed the writs underneath the castle door by way of serving them.27 Powerless to take further action within the confines of the law but certain that his quarry was well and truly cornered, Ridgeway confidently awaited Mary's release. Powerless to take further action within the confines of the law but certain that his quarry was well and truly cornered, Ridgeway confidently awaited Mary's release.

With the castle surrounded by pitworkers, law officers and neighbours, its walls illuminated by giant bonfires, supplies of food stopped and even the water pipes cut, it seemed only a matter of time before the prison would be breached. Yet with no sighting of Mary for two days, her putative rescuers were growing apprehensive. Confirmation that the habeas corpus habeas corpus had been served took an inevitable two days to reach London, whereupon Mary's lawyers immediately requested that the King's Bench send an 'attachment', or posse of officers, to take Bowes into custody for failing to comply. It took a further frustrating day for the court to agree, on 16 November, to the plea. Accordingly a band of armed officers then set off from Bow Street, the pioneering police station founded in the 1750s by the novelist and magistrate Henry Fielding, with a warrant to arrest Bowes and rescue Mary. With the whole country now agog at the scandal, one newspaper duly reported, 'a party of peace officers, armed, in post chaises, went off with all expedition to Streatlam Castle', while the had been served took an inevitable two days to reach London, whereupon Mary's lawyers immediately requested that the King's Bench send an 'attachment', or posse of officers, to take Bowes into custody for failing to comply. It took a further frustrating day for the court to agree, on 16 November, to the plea. Accordingly a band of armed officers then set off from Bow Street, the pioneering police station founded in the 1750s by the novelist and magistrate Henry Fielding, with a warrant to arrest Bowes and rescue Mary. With the whole country now agog at the scandal, one newspaper duly reported, 'a party of peace officers, armed, in post chaises, went off with all expedition to Streatlam Castle', while the Gentleman's Magazine Gentleman's Magazine ruefully noted that fulfilling their task 'will prove a dangerous attempt to execute'. ruefully noted that fulfilling their task 'will prove a dangerous attempt to execute'.28 Meanwhile James Farrer, arriving hotfoot from Carlisle, had decided to take the law into his own hands - or at least those of local magistrates. Impatient at the interminable delays, he obtained a warrant from a local justice and with the aid of several st.u.r.dy supporters determined to force open the castle gates. As the a.s.sembled crowd watched with bated breath, on 16 November Farrer, Hubbersty and Colpitts burst through the doors, tripped over the habeas corpus habeas corpus writ lying unread on the floor and commenced a search of the building. writ lying unread on the floor and commenced a search of the building. 29 29 To their astonishment, and the subsequent amazement of the gathered a.s.sembly, there was no sign either of Bowes or Mary. Closely questioned by the lawyers, the handful of ruffians left behind refused to yield a single clue to their whereabouts. Since no carriages were missing the bewildered rescuers were stumped as to the means of Bowes's vanishing act and as there had been no sign of him since, they were equally flummoxed over his destination. Seriously alarmed that Mary might be irretrievably lost, it seemed, as one correspondent poignantly remarked, that Bowes had 'Arts & Contrivance enough to accomplish any thing he undertakes'. To their astonishment, and the subsequent amazement of the gathered a.s.sembly, there was no sign either of Bowes or Mary. Closely questioned by the lawyers, the handful of ruffians left behind refused to yield a single clue to their whereabouts. Since no carriages were missing the bewildered rescuers were stumped as to the means of Bowes's vanishing act and as there had been no sign of him since, they were equally flummoxed over his destination. Seriously alarmed that Mary might be irretrievably lost, it seemed, as one correspondent poignantly remarked, that Bowes had 'Arts & Contrivance enough to accomplish any thing he undertakes'.30

One step ahead, as ever, Bowes was long gone. For on the evening of Sunday 12 November, the day after arriving at Streatlam and a full four days before James Farrer broke in with his search warrant, Bowes had fled the castle under the very noses of the vigilantes. Having forced Mary to dress in a man's greatcoat and a maid's bonnet he had smuggled her out of a back door and, with Mary riding pillion, accompanied by his pregnant mistress and several armed accomplices, ridden stealthily away across the moors.31 The next eight days would test Mary's powers of endurance to the limits. Suffering barely credible extremes of deprivation and brutality, exposed to intolerable conditions during the coldest autumn of the century, Mary would draw on a remarkable inner resilience and the long-buried physical strength which her father had instilled in her as a child. The next eight days would test Mary's powers of endurance to the limits. Suffering barely credible extremes of deprivation and brutality, exposed to intolerable conditions during the coldest autumn of the century, Mary would draw on a remarkable inner resilience and the long-buried physical strength which her father had instilled in her as a child.

Heading due west across the boggy moorland, aiming for Carlisle and probably Ireland, Bowes first halted at a rough cottage belonging to his mistress's father in a remote spot known as Roger Moor where the party laid low for the next two days. Here Bowes crammed Mary into a 'press bed' - a type of bed concealed in a cupboard commonly stored in eighteenth-century kitchens. When she still refused to sleep with him, he threatened her with his pistol, beat her about the head and shut her in. Enclosed in the darkness for most of the first day, she heard Bowes calling for padlocks and a hot poker but defiantly shouted that she was ready for whatever cruelty he might attempt. When finally the doors were opened Bowes laid her on her side then beat her severely with a rod.

Leaving the cottage once darkness fell the following evening, 15 November, Mary was placed on a horse behind Charles Chapman, a miner recruited as one of Bowes's heavies, and headed west again across the moors. 'It was a very windy, cold, dark night, when we left Roger Moor', Mary would remember, 'and travelled thro' part of the Yorkshire Highlands, scattered with occasional villages.' With sleet and snow beginning to fall, Mary's flimsy clothing and thin slippers rapidly became sodden, so that she felt so 'overpowered with the various fatigues, cruelties, want of sleep and the very wet condition I was in' that several times she almost fell from Chapman's horse. Breaking the ice on frozen rivers and trudging through deep snow drifts, the bedraggled party arrived in the early hours at the ramshackle cottage of Matthew Shields, a gamekeeper, in the hamlet of Arngill at the eastern foot of the North Pennine hills. That night Mary slept in a draughty loft with Mary Gowland while a fierce storm raged outside.

The following day, as James Farrer stormed Streatlam Castle, Mary was sitting on a wooden bench in Shields's hovel only fourteen miles away. Warmed by a feeble peat fire and sustained only by hot milk and water with a little bread, she met another of her husband's mistresses, Isabella Dixon, who was nursing the latest of his illegitimate children. Marooned in the cottage for a second night by the drifting snow, on 17 November Mary was encouraged when Henry Bourn arrived to inform Bowes that Captain Farrer and Thomas Colpitts junior, her agent's son, were now scouring the countryside for her. Fearful of being discovered, Bowes insisted that they set out again soon after dark.

With Mary mounted behind Chapman once more, the party was guided by Shields over the North Pennine hills. Known even now as 'England's last wilderness', the North Pennines form the highest points in the range which divides England down the centre, from Derbyshire in the south to the Scottish border in the north. As they rose forbiddingly before her now, capped with snow, Mary may well have echoed the judgement of the author Daniel Defoe that: 'This, perhaps, is the most desolate, wild, and abandoned Country in all England England.'

Keeping to lonely country roads and treacherous moorland paths, the horses stumbled over the fells as sleet blinded their way. When they stopped briefly at a turnpike cottage near Brough, Shields told the tollkeepers that Mary was being taken to visit her daughter who was in labour. Arriving in the early hours at Appleby, a little medieval town on the road to Carlisle, Bowes installed Mary in one inn and sent his hoodlums to another in order to avoid suspicion. Again he tried to force her to have s.e.x with him; again she swore she would prosecute him for rape if he persevered.

Anxious that Captain Farrer and young Colpitts might overtake them, Bowes forced the party to leave hurriedly the following morning, 18 November, so that in the rush Mary left behind her stockings. Bundling Mary into a chaise which Bowes had hired to reach Carlisle, they were stopped after only three miles by a man on horseback who warned them that they were being followed. Mary sank to her knees in grat.i.tude that she was about to be rescued, but Bowes dragged her into the road, sent the carriage on towards Carlisle as a decoy and took off across the fields with the pregnant Mary Gowland riding pillion on his horse, Mary Eleanor mounted behind Chapman. When the determined Captain Farrer and his fellow pursuer hurtled past in their chaise in pursuit of the empty carriage only minutes later, Mary was being hidden in a cowshed a few hundred yards away.

Doubling back, Bowes now trekked east towards the steeply rising western escarpment of the Pennines, stopping only to find guides at remote cottages along the route. Never short of a ready fiction, Bowes told the country folk he encountered that he was a doctor and Mary a demented patient. Clinging to Chapman as their horse stumbled along the narrow pa.s.ses, her bare legs numb from the cold, Mary gazed with awe on the 'stupendous rocks and mountains deeply covered with snow' and 'tremendous precipices' as they negotiated a route over the 2,454-foot peak of Burton Fell. So bleak was the terrain that even one of their guides lost his way. Weak from fatigue and cold, Mary fell from her horse when it plunged into a snowdrift but was promptly reseated by Bowes's henchmen. As they crossed a plain so immense and white that it 'perfectly resembled the wide Ocean', Mary recognised some rare alpine plants peeping out from the snow. Pointing them out to Bowes she shouted, 'that as I now now saw them against my inclination, I would when released from him come there some future summer for my own pleasure and to indulge my Botanical pa.s.sion'. saw them against my inclination, I would when released from him come there some future summer for my own pleasure and to indulge my Botanical pa.s.sion'.

As the day darkened, Mary found that they had returned to Matthew Shields's house at Arngill where Isabella Dixon confessed herself astounded that they had survived the mountain crossing in such foul conditions. Yet before she had time even to dry her wet clothes by the fire, Mary was forced outside again, this time mounted behind Bowes, to press on towards Darlington. Creeping along the back roads through the night, the bedraggled group pa.s.sed within three miles of Streatlam Castle where Bowes even had the gall to send one of his gang to glean news of the rescue efforts. The resulting information did not bring him comfort.

Having pa.s.sed within yards of Mary's hideaway in the cowshed near Appleby, Captain Farrer and Colpitts junior had continued to Penrith, just as Bowes had hoped, but finding no trace of their quarry retraced their route with growing anguish.32 Gathering jumbled reports of the fugitives as they went, they called at Arngill - missing Mary's second visit by hours - but were met with contemptuous silence from its inhabitants. In bewilderment they returned west as far as Carlisle, but discovering no sign of Bowes, doubled back again, their efforts now focused on County Durham. With armed officers arriving from London, every village watchman and country constable on the alert and sightings of the conspicuous group circulating widely, it seemed only a matter of time before Bowes would be cornered. 'Various & many are the reports of the Fugitives,' reported one correspondent following developments, '& a whole Country upon the Watch.' Gathering jumbled reports of the fugitives as they went, they called at Arngill - missing Mary's second visit by hours - but were met with contemptuous silence from its inhabitants. In bewilderment they returned west as far as Carlisle, but discovering no sign of Bowes, doubled back again, their efforts now focused on County Durham. With armed officers arriving from London, every village watchman and country constable on the alert and sightings of the conspicuous group circulating widely, it seemed only a matter of time before Bowes would be cornered. 'Various & many are the reports of the Fugitives,' reported one correspondent following developments, '& a whole Country upon the Watch.'33 At last rising to the seriousness of the situation, Mary's aunt, Margaret Liddell, sent instructions to every coaching inn in the region to refuse fresh horses to Bowes's men. Conveying news to Colpitts, she lamented, 'This most melancholy afair has effected my nerves so much, that really I can hardly hold my Pen.'34 At the same time James Farrer issued posters offering a 50 reward for any information leading to the arrest of Bowes and the rescue of Mary. At the same time James Farrer issued posters offering a 50 reward for any information leading to the arrest of Bowes and the rescue of Mary.35 Pasted on tavern walls and turnpike gates throughout the north, the posters gave descriptions of Bowes, his accomplices and Mary herself in less than flattering terms. Bowes, one poster a.s.serted, was 'above the middle size, sallow complexion, large Nose which stands rather one side, and lisps in his speech', while Mary was described as 'a little woman, a longish Face, with fine dark brown Hair, rather Bulky over the Chest'. Pasted on tavern walls and turnpike gates throughout the north, the posters gave descriptions of Bowes, his accomplices and Mary herself in less than flattering terms. Bowes, one poster a.s.serted, was 'above the middle size, sallow complexion, large Nose which stands rather one side, and lisps in his speech', while Mary was described as 'a little woman, a longish Face, with fine dark brown Hair, rather Bulky over the Chest'.

While Mary's lawyer was sparing no efforts to effect her release, Bowes's own lawyer was proving equally industrious on his client's behalf. An attorney in Darlington renowned for his sharp practices, Thomas Bowes - no relation to his defendant or to Mary - had acquired the soubriquet 'Hungry Bowes'.36 It was Thomas Bowes who had masqueraded as his client when Ridgeway arrived at Streatlam Castle, and it was in the lawyer's own house that Mary was next imprisoned. Having arrived in the early hours of 19 November, she had been locked in a windowless room, or pa.s.sage, without a candle before being allowed to sleep in a bedroom. That afternoon, however, the party was on the move again. It was Thomas Bowes who had masqueraded as his client when Ridgeway arrived at Streatlam Castle, and it was in the lawyer's own house that Mary was next imprisoned. Having arrived in the early hours of 19 November, she had been locked in a windowless room, or pa.s.sage, without a candle before being allowed to sleep in a bedroom. That afternoon, however, the party was on the move again.

Plainly panicking as his pursuers closed in, Bowes and his crew took Mary in a hired chaise through Durham to Newcastle from whence he hoped to negotiate an alternative route to Carlisle. That night was spent at a coaching inn at Harlow Hill, just west of the city, where Mary was confined with Mary Gowland in the stableyard as wind and rain came in through the cracks in the chaise windows. But the perilous weather conditions, which had earlier proved almost fatal, now worked to her advantage when the postillions refused to continue on next morning so that Bowes had no alternative but to head back for Newcastle. Refused fresh horses at several coaching inns in the city, Bowes eventually found an amenable innkeeper. In a fury at the ingrat.i.tude of his former const.i.tuents and, for once in his life, seemingly devoid of any clear plan, Bowes now headed back south towards Darlington.

Nearing the town, Bowes realised that he was being followed - by one of Margaret Liddell's servants - so he promptly commandeered a horse from a fellow traveller on the road and, waving his pistol wildly in the air, chased the man for nearly two miles. Continuing in the chaise, a few miles further on they were met by Bourn who warned Bowes that a crowd had gathered in Darlington ready to seize him. Growing dangerously irrational in his panic, Bowes sent the chaise on to Darlington with Mary Gowland inside, seized Bourn's horse, and with Mary mounted bareback behind him and only his French valet, Mark Prevot, for protection galloped away across the open fields. It was mid-afternoon on Monday, 20 November, when Bowes arrived in the little village of Neasham, a few miles south of Darlington, beside the River Tees. Having travelled at least 180 miles in eight days, by coach, on horseback and on foot, with barely any nourishment in freezing conditions, Mary was now near exhaustion. Demented with fear and confusion, her captor was scarcely in any better condition.

Seated on his farm horse in his grubby workclothes, Gabriel Thornton, a ploughman who worked for Thomas Colpitts's son-in-law, bore little resemblance to a knight on a white charger. Yet from the moment he spotted the suspicious-looking couple riding through Neasham, he acted with chivalric courage and determination.37 Although the woman riding pillion was unkempt, mired in dirt and dressed in a man's greatcoat with no stockings and only one slipper, he had no doubt that he had discovered the Countess of Strathmore. Well aware of the nationwide hunt to rescue the countess he initially followed at some distance. But knowing that Bowes was reported to be heavily armed and observing that the man who rode with him carried an unsheathed sword, he thought it prudent to summon a.s.sistance from the parish constable, one Christopher Smith. Together Thornton and Smith advanced towards their target and as they closed the gap, they were gradually joined by a growing number of farmhands and villagers. At last, as Bowes turned into a field, the little group of about a dozen men had him surrounded. Surprised at the ambush, Bowes immediately flourished one of his pistols and threatened to shoot out the brains of any man who tried to seize him. Although they were unarmed apart from a few sticks and farm implements, the villagers stood their ground. As Thornton stepped forward to challenge Bowes, an elderly man grabbed the bridle of his horse and Mary saw her chance. She slid to the ground and begged the gathered crowd for a.s.sistance. Staggering towards Thornton, she was grabbed by Prevot with his sword drawn but with her last ounce of strength she pinched his arm so severely that he dropped the weapon. Wrenching herself free, she was lifted by one of the farmhands on to Thornton's horse. In the confusion, Constable Smith seized Bowes's pistols and with the b.u.t.t end of one of them gave Bowes a blow to the head that knocked him off his horse. Seeing her captor sprawled on the ground, disarmed and almost senseless, Mary now exclaimed with a flourish, 'Farewell, learn to amend your life', and with her gallant ploughman bearing her away she headed straight for London. Although the woman riding pillion was unkempt, mired in dirt and dressed in a man's greatcoat with no stockings and only one slipper, he had no doubt that he had discovered the Countess of Strathmore. Well aware of the nationwide hunt to rescue the countess he initially followed at some distance. But knowing that Bowes was reported to be heavily armed and observing that the man who rode with him carried an unsheathed sword, he thought it prudent to summon a.s.sistance from the parish constable, one Christopher Smith. Together Thornton and Smith advanced towards their target and as they closed the gap, they were gradually joined by a growing number of farmhands and villagers. At last, as Bowes turned into a field, the little group of about a dozen men had him surrounded. Surprised at the ambush, Bowes immediately flourished one of his pistols and threatened to shoot out the brains of any man who tried to seize him. Although they were unarmed apart from a few sticks and farm implements, the villagers stood their ground. As Thornton stepped forward to challenge Bowes, an elderly man grabbed the bridle of his horse and Mary saw her chance. She slid to the ground and begged the gathered crowd for a.s.sistance. Staggering towards Thornton, she was grabbed by Prevot with his sword drawn but with her last ounce of strength she pinched his arm so severely that he dropped the weapon. Wrenching herself free, she was lifted by one of the farmhands on to Thornton's horse. In the confusion, Constable Smith seized Bowes's pistols and with the b.u.t.t end of one of them gave Bowes a blow to the head that knocked him off his horse. Seeing her captor sprawled on the ground, disarmed and almost senseless, Mary now exclaimed with a flourish, 'Farewell, learn to amend your life', and with her gallant ploughman bearing her away she headed straight for London.

Safely back, at Farrer and Lacey's house in Bread Street Hill by the following evening, Mary was in little condition to celebrate. While Lacey scrawled a hurried letter informing Colpitts that Mary was 'just arrived safe at our House', Mary Morgan rejoiced 'at the blessed Restoration of my Dear & suffering Lady'.38 Covered in bruises, severely affected by exposure and unable to walk, Mary Eleanor had to be carried into the court of King's Bench on 23 November to swear articles of peace against Bowes. A crowd gathered to watch her being lifted from her carriage and carried into the courtroom, limp, pained and exhausted. Spectators and reporters alike were then stunned to hear both the details of her suffering and her fort.i.tude in surviving them. 'Lady Strathmore, from the extreme ill-treatment she has received since forced from this metropolis, is become an object of the most extreme pity, and compa.s.sion to every beholder,' p.r.o.nounced the Covered in bruises, severely affected by exposure and unable to walk, Mary Eleanor had to be carried into the court of King's Bench on 23 November to swear articles of peace against Bowes. A crowd gathered to watch her being lifted from her carriage and carried into the courtroom, limp, pained and exhausted. Spectators and reporters alike were then stunned to hear both the details of her suffering and her fort.i.tude in surviving them. 'Lady Strathmore, from the extreme ill-treatment she has received since forced from this metropolis, is become an object of the most extreme pity, and compa.s.sion to every beholder,' p.r.o.nounced the English Chronicle English Chronicle while the while the Public Advertiser Public Advertiser reported that she had 'experienced the greatest hardships and distress, too tedious, and almost too dreadful to relate'. reported that she had 'experienced the greatest hardships and distress, too tedious, and almost too dreadful to relate'.39 Determined, nonetheless, to regale their readers with the details, newspapers from London to Madras devoted copious columns to the story while Grub Street publishers rushed into print with ill.u.s.trated pamphlets and jaunty poems describing Mary's villainous abduction by her scoundrel husband and heroic rescue by a hardy band of country folk. In the meantime, Bowes had evaded his pursuers and taken refuge once more in his lawyer's house in Darlington where he was finally apprehended by the dogged Thomas Ridgeway. Now held firmly in the custody of the tipstaff, Bowes was conducted to London to face judgement. Naturally he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. Determined, nonetheless, to regale their readers with the details, newspapers from London to Madras devoted copious columns to the story while Grub Street publishers rushed into print with ill.u.s.trated pamphlets and jaunty poems describing Mary's villainous abduction by her scoundrel husband and heroic rescue by a hardy band of country folk. In the meantime, Bowes had evaded his pursuers and taken refuge once more in his lawyer's house in Darlington where he was finally apprehended by the dogged Thomas Ridgeway. Now held firmly in the custody of the tipstaff, Bowes was conducted to London to face judgement. Naturally he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

12.

The Taming of Bad Wives Westminster Hall, London, 28 November 1786

Dishevelled and pale, with a scarlet handkerchief bandaging the head wounds he had supposedly received at his capture, Andrew Robinson Bowes staggered into Westminster Hall just after 1 p.m. Limping through the cavernous medieval building, where William Wallace, Guy Fawkes and Charles I had once stood to hear their death sentences p.r.o.nounced, Bowes was supported under each arm by the two tipstaffs who had finally put an end to his flight. The clamour in the noisy hall rose even louder as journalists, law students and spectators jostled for a view. 'Mr Bowes was dressed in a drab-coloured great coat, a red silk handkerchief about his head,' the reporter from The Times The Times noted, while the correspondent for the noted, while the correspondent for the Gentleman's Magazine Gentleman's Magazine observed that, 'he frequently appeared on the point of fainting, and his appearance on the whole was the most squalid and emaciated that could possibly be imagined.' observed that, 'he frequently appeared on the point of fainting, and his appearance on the whole was the most squalid and emaciated that could possibly be imagined.'1 Depicted by James Gillray as stooping and dejected amid a sea of gawping faces in the caricaturist's last - and most truthful - contribution to the Bowes divorce saga, he cut a pitiful figure. Depicted by James Gillray as stooping and dejected amid a sea of gawping faces in the caricaturist's last - and most truthful - contribution to the Bowes divorce saga, he cut a pitiful figure.

But if Bowes hoped to win public sympathy by his usual play-acting, this time he was gravely mistaken. Finally wise to his tricks and disguises, the crowds squashed into the courtroom hissed and jeered as he stumbled towards the bench and the newspaper writers cynically dismissed his sickly pallor. 'Mr Bowes had dressed his person to draw pity from the mult.i.tude,' the Morning Chronicle Morning Chronicle wryly informed its readers and added: 'It is said by some of the persons who attended Mr Bowes into town, that he did not appear to be much in pain from the ill-treatment complained of in his affidavit, till he came into town, and then he began to rehea.r.s.e his part.' Indeed, as Jesse Foot would later reveal, Bowes had manufactured his deathly countenance by taking an emetic. Having vomited twice as he was conveyed to Westminster Hall, he had persuaded the ever-willing surgeon to plead that he was unfit to attend. Only the dissent of a second, less corruptible, doctor had prevented Bowes from evading his appointment with justice. wryly informed its readers and added: 'It is said by some of the persons who attended Mr Bowes into town, that he did not appear to be much in pain from the ill-treatment complained of in his affidavit, till he came into town, and then he began to rehea.r.s.e his part.' Indeed, as Jesse Foot would later reveal, Bowes had manufactured his deathly countenance by taking an emetic. Having vomited twice as he was conveyed to Westminster Hall, he had persuaded the ever-willing surgeon to plead that he was unfit to attend. Only the dissent of a second, less corruptible, doctor had prevented Bowes from evading his appointment with justice.

Held firm by the two tipstaffs, Bowes was brought before the notorious Judge Francis Buller. Presiding over the King's Bench in place of the ailing Lord Mansfield, Justice Buller had made himself as unpopular with the lawyers who argued their cases under his withering gaze as with the cowering defendants who stood before him. Having scaled the legal ladder with unprecedented agility, Buller was the youngest judge ever to be appointed to the King's Bench at the tender age of thirty-two.2 Arrogant and brash in his manner, stubborn and impetuous in his judgements, at fifty he was now tipped to succeed the mentor he idolised yet made seemingly little attempt to emulate. Where Mansfield had been acclaimed for his liberal stance, Buller had become a laughing stock by suggesting that a husband could lawfully beat his wife as long as he used a stick no thicker than his thumb. Yet even 'Judge Thumb' was scandalised at the depraved extremes of Bowes's conduct which now unfolded before the court. Arrogant and brash in his manner, stubborn and impetuous in his judgements, at fifty he was now tipped to succeed the mentor he idolised yet made seemingly little attempt to emulate. Where Mansfield had been acclaimed for his liberal stance, Buller had become a laughing stock by suggesting that a husband could lawfully beat his wife as long as he used a stick no thicker than his thumb. Yet even 'Judge Thumb' was scandalised at the depraved extremes of Bowes's conduct which now unfolded before the court.

In an era of public hangings, child labour and routine domestic violence, there was little that shocked Georgian sensibilities. But the extent of Bowes's s.a.d.i.s.tic ill-treatment of his own wife, described in the articles of peace read by Mary's lawyers, appalled reporters and spectators alike. Recording the beatings, floggings, murder threats, attempted murder, attempted rapes and unspeakable deprivations Mary had suffered during her abduction and confinement, the charges were described by The Times The Times as containing 'a detail of barbarity that shocks humanity and outrages civilisation', while the as containing 'a detail of barbarity that shocks humanity and outrages civilisation', while the Morning Chronicle Morning Chronicle referred to 'a scene of the utmost inhumanity and brutality'. referred to 'a scene of the utmost inhumanity and brutality'.

As Bowes swooned from his pretended injuries, his lawyers made a pathetic effort to present him as a wronged man who had only abducted Mary to rescue her from her manipulative servants. Having left Streatlam Castle before the habeas corpus habeas corpus had been served, Bowes had been oblivious to the nationwide quest to rescue her until several days later, they claimed, at which point he had dutifully headed south to deliver her in person. It was while endeavouring to return her to London, his lawyers insisted, that Bowes had been apprehended by a rough band of labourers who had mercilessly bludgeoned him over the head. Producing a sworn statement from a surgeon in Darlington who a.s.serted that Bowes had sustained a serious head wound, his lawyers feared that even now his injuries might prove fatal. had been served, Bowes had been oblivious to the nationwide quest to rescue her until several days later, they claimed, at which point he had dutifully headed south to deliver her in person. It was while endeavouring to return her to London, his lawyers insisted, that Bowes had been apprehended by a rough band of labourers who had mercilessly bludgeoned him over the head. Producing a sworn statement from a surgeon in Darlington who a.s.serted that Bowes had sustained a serious head wound, his lawyers feared that even now his injuries might prove fatal.

Bowes's version of events received short shrift from the formidable Buller. Briskly dismissing the concoction of excuses over the habeas corpus habeas corpus, the judge remanded Bowes in custody until a full hearing, with bail set at the colossal sum of 20,000, possibly the largest bail figure to date in such a case.3 When Bowes's counsel pleaded that a spell in jail might endanger his life, the judge promptly retorted that there were apartments in prison 'sufficiently commodious' for Bowes to receive medical treatment, at which point the marshal of the prison confirmed - to uproarious laughter - that he 'could accommodate him very properly'. When Bowes's counsel pleaded that a spell in jail might endanger his life, the judge promptly retorted that there were apartments in prison 'sufficiently commodious' for Bowes to receive medical treatment, at which point the marshal of the prison confirmed - to uproarious laughter - that he 'could accommodate him very properly'.

As Bowes was conveyed out of court by the tipstaffs, a vast mob surged forwards, hissing, howling and shouting abuse, while the tipstaffs forced a path to the waiting hackney carriage.4 Bundled inside the waiting coach, Bowes was driven the short distance to the King's Bench prison in Southwark where he arrived at 3 p.m. At last the captor was captive. The man who had variously imprisoned his wife, his sister, his stepdaughter, his mistress and her child, was himself finally under lock and key. And as Bundled inside the waiting coach, Bowes was driven the short distance to the King's Bench prison in Southwark where he arrived at 3 p.m. At last the captor was captive. The man who had variously imprisoned his wife, his sister, his stepdaughter, his mistress and her child, was himself finally under lock and key. And as The Times The Times drily remarked: 'It is an uncomfortable reverse of situation, to be forced from the elegant apartments of a n.o.ble house in Grosvenor-square, to a room twelve feet by eight in a prison.' drily remarked: 'It is an uncomfortable reverse of situation, to be forced from the elegant apartments of a n.o.ble house in Grosvenor-square, to a room twelve feet by eight in a prison.'

For satirists and cartoonists ever on the lookout for a fresh victim to lampoon, Bowes's dramatic plunge from preening country gentleman to lowly prison inmate was a gift. Seizing the opportunity to rake over Bowes's chequered past while milking popular prejudice against the Irish, one anonymous writer turned the drama into a short play, ent.i.tled 'The Irishman in Limbo, or, Stony Batter's Lamentation for the loss of his Liberty'.5 In an imagined dialogue between Bowes and an Irish jailor, Bowes declares: 'One wife I ingeniously tormented out of her life, and the other I would have done the same by, but she, with her sage advisers, has proved too many for me, and prevented my scheme from taking.' Another attack, under the t.i.tle 'Who Cries Andrew now?' recalled Bowes's horse-racing and political heyday in nine jaunty verses, including the lines: 'No more at ELECTIONS his Name we repeat,/Like his Galloper jaded, he's down at each heat;/Tho' this bold Irish Hero, this Bruiser of Wives,/the Gallows Escapes, like a Cat with Nine Lives.' A third, called 'Paddy's Progress', described Bowes's dazzling ascent from army ensign to popular MP and his equally spectacular descent in a rollicking ballad spanning twenty-four pages. Its final verse concluded: 'Doom'd to a room, twelve feet by eight!/Who could but say - they serv'd him right?/Thus he who cry'd up Freedom's laws,/His freedom lost in Freedom's cause!' In an imagined dialogue between Bowes and an Irish jailor, Bowes declares: 'One wife I ingeniously tormented out of her life, and the other I would have done the same by, but she, with her sage advisers, has proved too many for me, and prevented my scheme from taking.' Another attack, under the t.i.tle 'Who Cries Andrew now?' recalled Bowes's horse-racing and political heyday in nine jaunty verses, including the lines: 'No more at ELECTIONS his Name we repeat,/Like his Galloper jaded, he's down at each heat;/Tho' this bold Irish Hero, this Bruiser of Wives,/the Gallows Escapes, like a Cat with Nine Lives.' A third, called 'Paddy's Progress', described Bowes's dazzling ascent from army ensign to popular MP and his equally spectacular descent in a rollicking ballad spanning twenty-four pages. Its final verse concluded: 'Doom'd to a room, twelve feet by eight!/Who could but say - they serv'd him right?/Thus he who cry'd up Freedom's laws,/His freedom lost in Freedom's cause!'

In reality, however, Bowes's new life in captivity brought little hardship. Far from being incarcerated in a tiny cell, Bowes ranged around a comfortable house adjacent to the prison which he rented from the obliging marshal. Here he lived in comparative luxury with four-year-old William, the pregnant Mary Gowland and several of his stooges, dining on the Bowes silver plate and entertaining friends. Attended daily for his feigned injuries by Foot, Bowes feverishly attempted to raise the bail necessary to secure his release while masterminding his legal defence. With the abduction case, divorce suit and deeds challenge simultaneously lumbering to their conclusions through the tortuous Georgian legal system he had plenty to keep him busy.

In the meantime, it was Mary who was confined to a single room, forced to remain upstairs in Farrer and Lacey's house in Bread Street Hill through the ill effects of her ordeal. According to the apothecary who examined her after her rescue, Mary had sustained a 'great pain' in her right shoulder from her fall from the horse during her trans-Pennine trek, as well as bruises to her neck, chest and feet, and a severe cough.6 'From the severity of the weather and the ill-treatment she had suffered,' he reported, 'I thought her life in great danger.' It would be a full month before she could stand up and six weeks before she could walk across the room with the aid of a stick. On Christmas Day she was carried downstairs for the first time to enjoy Christmas dinner with friends. 'From the severity of the weather and the ill-treatment she had suffered,' he reported, 'I thought her life in great danger.' It would be a full month before she could stand up and six weeks before she could walk across the room with the aid of a stick. On Christmas Day she was carried downstairs for the first time to enjoy Christmas dinner with friends.7 While her physical symptoms slowly improved, her emotional state took longer to recover. Relating to Colpitts the after-effects of the ordeal - in a far-sighted description of post-traumatic stress disorder - Mary explained: 'I know by experience, that . . . one begins to feel the Effects of Terror, etc, in a manner that the false spirits & activity necessary whilst our exertions were required prevented our being sensible of 'till the storm has subsided.' Those symptoms might well continue, she speculated, confessing to Colpitts that, 'I shall not be very willing, I think, ever to go out of Doors again, as I have experienced that there is no personal security in this Kingdom even at noon.' Since Bowes's hoodlums remained at large she had every reason to fear for her safety. While her physical symptoms slowly improved, her emotional state took longer to recover. Relating to Colpitts the after-effects of the ordeal - in a far-sighted description of post-traumatic stress disorder - Mary explained: 'I know by experience, that . . . one begins to feel the Effects of Terror, etc, in a manner that the false spirits & activity necessary whilst our exertions were required prevented our being sensible of 'till the storm has subsided.' Those symptoms might well continue, she speculated, confessing to Colpitts that, 'I shall not be very willing, I think, ever to go out of Doors again, as I have experienced that there is no personal security in this Kingdom even at noon.' Since Bowes's hoodlums remained at large she had every reason to fear for her safety.

Yet if Mary endured lasting anxiety in her liberty, she could at least rejoice in the strength of support she now received from friends and family. Mary Morgan remained her closest friend and staunchest ally, while Colpitts and her other supporters in the north would continue to prove their worth. Putting on record her grat.i.tude to the miners, tenants and farmworkers who had collaborated in her rescue, Mary placed an emotional notice in the Newcastle and Durham newspapers at the end of December. 'Lady Strathmore returns her most sincere & hearty thanks to her friends in Yorkshire, Durham, Northumberland, Westmoreland, c.u.mberland, & many other counties, for their humane & spirited exertions towards the Restoration of her Liberty, & the Preservation of her Life.'8 Back from the north after playing his own part in the rescue mission, the a.s.siduous Captain Farrer resumed his romantic attentions while well-wishers deluged the house to congratulate Mary on her release. Back from the north after playing his own part in the rescue mission, the a.s.siduous Captain Farrer resumed his romantic attentions while well-wishers deluged the house to congratulate Mary on her release.

At the same time, Mary painstakingly began to rebuild relations with her scattered young family. George and Thomas, her Eton boys, were the first to arrive at her bedside in early December. A few days later Mary was overjoyed when her two eldest children, Maria and John, came to visit. It had been six long years since she had last seen her eldest son, the young Lord Strathmore. She had left a nervous boy of eleven in thrall to his tutors and guardians, now she met a tall, handsome and self-confident young man who had just enrolled as a cornet, the cavalry's equivalent of an ensign, in the Royal Horse Guards.9 Although she would never fully be reconciled with Maria, at one time her favourite child, Mary belatedly forged a strong and loving bond with the son for whom she had once confessed an 'unnatural dislike'. As she followed his military career with maternal pride, pasting newspaper cuttings on his activities into a sc.r.a.pbook, so he endeavoured to reunite the dispersed family and revive its disparate fortunes. Although she would never fully be reconciled with Maria, at one time her favourite child, Mary belatedly forged a strong and loving bond with the son for whom she had once confessed an 'unnatural dislike'. As she followed his military career with maternal pride, pasting newspaper cuttings on his activities into a sc.r.a.pbook, so he endeavoured to reunite the dispersed family and revive its disparate fortunes.

This was no simple task. Although their father languished in prison, accused of kidnapping, attempted murder and attempted rape, Mary's two youngest children remained firmly and legally under his control; young William even shared his father's captivity while nine-year-old Mary was being held in a secret location on his orders. And there was no record of a visit to her mother from Anna, now sixteen, who continued to behave as precociously as ever despite the hawk-like scrutiny of her governess, the sanctimonious Mrs Parish, who had recently confiscated a book she deemed 'not fit for the reading of a young Person'.10 In future, Anna would take care to keep her pleasures better hidden. And although Thomas Lyon had mellowed sufficiently to allow Mary at least some access to her children, he remained largely immune to her plight. As Mary commented archly to Colpitts, 'I must say, that Mr Lyon has not departed from his usual Supineness & Indifference in In future, Anna would take care to keep her pleasures better hidden. And although Thomas Lyon had mellowed sufficiently to allow Mary at least some access to her children, he remained largely immune to her plight. As Mary commented archly to Colpitts, 'I must say, that Mr Lyon has not departed from his usual Supineness & Indifference in any any particular.' particular.'11 Bolstered by the kindness of friends and family, Mary Eleanor moved into a rented house in Holles Street, just off Oxford Street, with Morgan and a few trusted servants in January 1787. A small terraced house, with just one spare room, it was a far cry from the opulence of her former homes, which now lay abandoned and neglected, yet it was 'very neatly furnished' and she could now manage the stairs without a stick. With her strength steadily returning, her determination to sever all links with Bowes remained undiminished. 'I am resolved at all events', she told Colpitts, 'to trust alone to a legal & Public Decision, & that I would beg my bread or earn it by sweeping the Crossings of a street, sooner than enter into any amicable Terms with Mr Stoney & I feel that the Resolution wch. supported me in the Highlands wd not desert me upon the Occasion.' As the appeal against her divorce suit approached, she would need every ounce of her willpower.

Bowes had filed his formal response to Mary's divorce victory to the Court of Arches, the ecclesiastical appeal court for the province of Canterbury, on 30 November, just two days after his enfeebled appearance in Westminster Hall. But there was nothing feeble about its contents. He had already given a broad hint that he was preparing a robust case in a testimony signed on the day of his capture which referred to certain 'papers' with which Mary had presented him soon after their marriage 'containing such a scene of iniquity as this deponent believes is not to be paralleled in any history on life'.12 Having purchased an interest in Having purchased an interest in The Times The Times, or Daily Universal Register Daily Universal Register as it was still known, that same month, Bowes made it plain he intended to fight his corner in the full glare of publicity. as it was still known, that same month, Bowes made it plain he intended to fight his corner in the full glare of publicity.13 Orchestrating his campaign from his roomy prison quarters, he fed t.i.tillating clues about the revelations his forthcoming appeal would furnish to an eager press. Orchestrating his campaign from his roomy prison quarters, he fed t.i.tillating clues about the revelations his forthcoming appeal would furnish to an eager press.

In January, therefore, The World The World promised its readers that Bowes's expected allegations against Mary were 'perhaps, the most extraordinary and unprecedented ever exhibited before a Court of Judicature'. promised its readers that Bowes's expected allegations against Mary were 'perhaps, the most extraordinary and unprecedented ever exhibited before a Court of Judicature'. 14 14 Shortly afterwards Shortly afterwards The Times The Times tamely observed that although popular prejudice had 'never run with greater rapidity against any individual' than it had against Bowes, there was now reason to believe that 'the stream will turn with the tide, and public opinion change its colour, on the full disclosure of every circ.u.mstance under which that Gentleman has acted'. And so when the appeal finally came up for its hearing, on 20 January 1787, the great hall at Doctors' Commons, where the Court of Arches also met, was packed with excitable journalists and shorthand writers. As the hacks listened, their quills poised, the court deliberations hinged on precisely how much of Bowes's explosive case could be aired in public. tamely observed that although popular prejudice had 'never run with greater rapidity against any individual' than it had against Bowes, there was now reason to believe that 'the stream will turn with the tide, and public opinion change its colour, on the full disclosure of every circ.u.mstance under which that Gentleman has acted'. And so when the appeal finally came up for its hearing, on 20 January 1787, the great hall at Doctors' Commons, where the Court of Arches also met, was packed with excitable journalists and shorthand writers. As the hacks listened, their quills poised, the court deliberations hinged on precisely how much of Bowes's explosive case could be aired in public.

His own reputation irreparably ruined, having been denounced as an adulterer, rapist and bully, Bowes had determined that his best line of defence lay in traducing Mary's name to an equal degree. If he could prove that Mary had committed vulgar and unnatural acts at least as shocking as the charges laid against him, then he was convinced her case would founder. And to achieve that end, he knew he possessed the ultimate secret weapon.

First he set the scene, lodging with the court a series of remarkable 'allegations' that accused Mary of brazen and repeated adultery with a succession of male acquaintances.15 Deviously entwining fact with fiction, this doc.u.ment described her adulterous affair with George Gray, subsequent abortions and concealed pregnancy in salacious detail. That these events all predated her marriage to Bowes, and that Gray's death six years previously prevented any effective challenge, made little difference to their deleterious effect. What followed was a bizarre confection of outrageous claims culled from the furthest reaches of Bowes's degenerate imagination which would have been comical were they not so destructive to Mary and several of her friends. Of the nine allegations filed by Bowes, the presiding judge Sir Peter Calvert rejected four outright but the five that he allowed to be read in court were more than sufficient to satisfy the appet.i.tes of the gathered journalists. Peddling Bowes's familiar image as the indulgent husband, his allegations a.s.serted that 'Lady Strathmore is a woman of the most extravagant, l.u.s.tful, wicked, and abandoned temper, and disposition' who had treated Bowes with 'the most insolent contempt and disobedience'. It was this 'impropriety and indecency' which had forced Bowes to lay 'restraints' upon her behaviour and 'by argument and gentle remonstrances' attempt to 'give her a proper sense and abhorrence of those vices'. Yet despite his heroic efforts to reform his wife's character, she had embarked on three successive affairs. Deviously entwining fact with fiction, this doc.u.ment described her adulterous affair with George Gray, subsequent abortions and concealed pregnancy in salacious detail. That these events all predated her marriage to Bowes, and that Gray's death six years previously prevented any effective challenge, made little difference to their deleterious effect. What followed was a bizarre confection of outrageous claims culled from the furthest reaches of Bowes's degenerate imagination which would have been comical were they not so destructive to Mary and several of her friends. Of the nine allegations filed by Bowes, the presiding judge Sir Peter Calvert rejected four outright but the five that he allowed to be read in court were more than sufficient to satisfy the appet.i.tes of the gathered journalists. Peddling Bowes's familiar image as the indulgent husband, his allegations a.s.serted that 'Lady Strathmore is a woman of the most extravagant, l.u.s.tful, wicked, and abandoned temper, and disposition' who had treated Bowes with 'the most insolent contempt and disobedience'. It was this 'impropriety and indecency' which had forced Bowes to lay 'restraints' upon her behaviour and 'by argument and gentle remonstrances' attempt to 'give her a proper sense and abhorrence of those vices'. Yet despite his heroic efforts to reform his wife's character, she had embarked on three successive affairs.

Her first lover, Bowes alleged, had been her footman George Walker with whom she had 'very frequently' committed adultery during the summer of 1777. Discovering this liaison at the end of the year, Bowes had instantly dismissed the servant, he claimed. The fact that Mary had been on the point of giving birth, by his own contention, that summer and that Walker had actually been dismissed at the end of March, had seemingly escaped his memory. His only evidence for the supposed affair was the testimony of another servant, Eliza Stephens, the former Eliza Planta who had probably been his own mistress at the time. She claimed she had found Walker alone with Mary in her bedchamber. The entire allegation, of course, was pure revenge for Walker's role in safeguarding Mary's prenuptial deed. In a vehement denial of any improper relationship, Walker would reveal that Bowes had tried to bribe him to support his cause but declared, 'I despised his offers! as I despised the Man!'16 Mary's second lover, the fiction continued, was a house guest named Edward Llewellin who had apparently stayed with the family at St Paul's Walden Bury in August 1783. The pair had been discovered 'in the very act of carnal copulation' on a bench in the garden, Bowes claimed, although he had only learned this shocking revelation after Mary had left him. Scarcely bothering to substantiate this charge, Bowes produced no evidence and no witness. And, of course, there were none since in August 1783, when Bowes was conducting an affair with his son's wet-nurse Mrs Houghton, Mary was not permitted so much as to walk alone in the garden to view her flowers, let alone cavort there with a lover. In all probability, since n.o.body in Mary's acquaintance had any recollection of the name, Llewellin did not exist. But of all the allegations, the most ludicrous, and the most cruel, was the claim that Mary had enjoyed an intrigue with the Gibside gardener Robert Thompson.

According to the charges, Mary had conducted a tempestuous affair with her gardener during the spring of 1784 such that 'many great and indecent familiarities were seen to pa.s.s' between the pair and they were spotted by two witnesses 'in the very act of carnal copulation' in the greenhouse, the garden house and various parts of the garden. Describing this improbable coupling, Joseph Hill, an ostler to the pit ponies, attested that he and his fellow colliery worker, Charles Chapman, had spied on Thompson through a window of the garden house 'lying upon the body of the said Mary Eleanor Bowes'.

It would have been hard to find a more doting or devoted admirer of Mary than Robert Thompson. Since his appointment in 1782, he had loyally tended her rare botanical specimens, once risking Bowes's wrath by allowing her to pick a single bloom, and ultimately defying his orders by continuing to nurture her gardens after his dismissal. Equally, it would have been hard to imagine a less likely lover. Wretched with poverty and sickness, infested with lice and racked with rheumatism, Thompson could barely manage to tend the plants let alone engage in athletic couplings between ch.o.r.es. According to fellow servants, Thompson was so unwell in 1784 that he 'walked almost double' and was frequently seen to 'pick the Lice from off his Body and his Cloaths'.17 Utterly in awe of Mary, and having sworn that he would 'dye on the spott' in his desperation to rescue her when abducted, Thompson's highest ambition was simply to serve her by cherishing her garden. Mortified by the accusation, Thompson would attest that he had never once been alone with Mary or even touched her garments except, he poignantly admitted, 'when her Ladyship might Hand me a pott of Flowers out of her hand which by Chance I might touch her Fingers but never otherwise'. Utterly in awe of Mary, and having sworn that he would 'dye on the spott' in his desperation to rescue her when abducted, Thompson's highest ambition was simply to serve her by cherishing her garden. Mortified by the accusation, Thompson would attest that he had never once been alone with Mary or even touched her garments except, he poignantly admitted, 'when her Ladyship might Hand me a pott of Flowers out of her hand which by Chance I might touch her Fingers but never otherwise'.

Transparently, Bowes's outrageous slander was punishment for Thompson's unbending loyalty. The conniving Hill had plainly been bribed to make his testimony while Chapman had only recently been captured for his part in Mary's abduction. Yet unbelievable as the claim was, the humiliation may well have been the last straw for the poor gardener. Thompson died less than two months after the allegations were broadcast and on his deathbed told a fellow ex-servant, James Smith, that the charge 'had almost broken his Heart'. So impoverished that he left not even enough money for a funeral, the last rites were paid for by Smith.

Notwithstanding this lurid catalogue of vice, Bowes still maintained his insistence that he wished to stay wedded to his errant spouse. Even more staggering, given the criminal trial hanging over him for abduction, he contended that since their separation - during the very ten days of the countrywide hunt to rescue Mary - they had 'lived and cohabited together', sharing bed and board, 'with mutual consent and forgiveness towards each other'.

Yet if Bowes's allegations seemed incredible, not to mention his undiminished zeal for the inst.i.tution of matrimony, his lawyers now produced shocking evidence to support their case: Mary's own 'Confessions'. Extorted under threat of violence nine years earlier and jealously guarded by Bowes ever since, Mary's frank account of her youthful flirtations and adulterous affair with Gray, her several abortions and her secret pregnancy, was ample ammunition to condemn her by her own pen. And it was not only Mary Eleanor whom the revelations could harm, for by exposing the illegitimacy of little Mary in public, the doc.u.ment effectively tainted her reputation too. Previously lodged with the court, it was this extraordinary hundred-page testament that Bowes wished to be read verbatim and had primed the a.s.sembled hacks to expect. Unparalleled in their honesty, unprecedented in their first-hand description of attempted and successful abortions, the confessions could easily sway public opinion in Bowes's favour, as Mary and her followers were only too well aware.

Since the confessions were irrefutably in Mary's handwriting, there was no question but that they were genuine. Precisely how they had come to be written, however, was the question that exercised the court. Mary Eleanor had already dismissed the doc.u.ment as 'spurious, most false and scandalous', while Mary Morgan called it 'that vile paper extracted from her Ladyship by force & partly dictated by his [Bowes's] own malicious invention'.18 Mary's steadfast attorney, James Farrer, had no less hesitation in disregarding the doc.u.ment. In an impa.s.sioned defence, sent to his partner Thomas Lacey, Farrer argued: 'The narrative ascribed to be writ by Lady S. is certainly in her own Hand Writing, which was procured from her Ladyship by threats and menaces, and the fear of Death, at a time her Ladyship was regardless of any thing but quietude, and the wish to avoid that severity of treatment she almost daily experienced, or at least to have it mitigated in some measure, when she was worn down in her spirits, depressed in the extreme, and in a state of despondency from an ill state of Health and a succession of cruelty, which occasioned.' Mary's steadfast attorney, James Farrer, had no less hesitation in disregarding the doc.u.ment. In an impa.s.sioned defence, sent to his partner Thomas Lacey, Farrer argued: 'The narrative ascribed to be writ by Lady S. is certainly in her own Hand Writing, which was procured from her Ladyship by threats and menaces, and the fear of Death, at a time her Ladyship was regardless of any thing but quietude, and the wish to avoid that severity of treatment she almost daily experienced, or at least to have it mitigated in some measure, when she was worn down in her spirits, depressed in the extreme, and in a state of despondency from an ill state of Health and a succession of cruelty, which occasioned.'19 Most of the paper had been dictated by Bowes, or at least instructions given as to what it must include, Farrer wrote. And its purpose, he said, was plain. It was a 'pocket pistol' kept by Bowes 'to destroy her Ladyship's fame, and to harden and steel the Hearts of every one against her Ladyship'. Most of the paper had been dictated by Bowes, or at least instructions given as to what it must include, Farrer wrote. And its purpose, he said, was plain. It was a 'pocket pistol' kept by Bowes 'to destroy her Ladyship's fame, and to harden and steel the Hearts of every one against her Ladyship'.

For the moment, at least, that pistol had misfired. For no sooner had the clerk to the court solemnly read aloud a few pages than the presiding judge ordered him to halt. Decreeing that the doc.u.ment had been obtained under duress and was furthermore unrelated to the facts of the case, Calvert banned any further reporting of its contents. At that point, as the Newcastle Journal Newcastle Journal related: 'A little murmur ensued, and three or four short-hand writers, who had seated themselves to take the contents of this choice MS. put up their papers, and marched out of the hall.' related: 'A little murmur ensued, and three or four short-hand writers, who had seated themselves to take