59

MISS RAY.

THE two following letters have reference to the tragical fate of the unfortunate Miss Ray, the wellknown mistress of Lord Sandwich, who on the 7th of April, 1779, while quitting Covent Garden Theatre, was shot by the Reverend James Hackman, a young clergyman, holding the living of Wiverton, in Norfolk. According to a contemporary account of this ill-fated lady," Miss Ray, who so unhappily met her fate on Wednesday night, served her time to a mantua-maker, in St. George's Court, St. John's Lane, Clerkenwell, whence, at the age of about sixteen, she removed into that higher sphere in which she is said to have acted with the utmost propriety till the unfortunate moment which put a period to her life. Her person was uncommonly elegant, and her voice musical in a high degree." Hackman, the person who assassinated her, had originally been a Lieutenant in the 68th regiment of foot, and, while in command of a recruiting party at Huntingdon, had been invited to Lord Sandwich's seat at Hinchinbrooke, where he conceived a violent passion for his future victim. Failing in his repeated endeavours to prevail on her to become his wife, he determined, while under the influence of the ravings of jealousy, to put an end to her life and his own. Having succeeded in taking the life of Miss Ray, he fired a second pistol at himself; but,

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being only wounded in the attempt, he was immediately seized by the bystanders.

The following account of the transaction appeared in one of the Journals of the succeeding day :"Last night the following melancholy fate terminated the existence of the beautiful, the favoured, and yet the unfortunate Miss Ray. As she was stepping into her carriage from Covent Garden Theatre, a clergyman, whose name we hear is Hackman, and who lives in Craven Street, came up and lodged the contents of a pistol in her head; which done, he instantly shot himself, and they fell together. They were carried into the Shakspeare, and the ablest assistance called for, but Miss Ray expired in a few minutes. The desperate assassin still lives, to account for the horrid act, and, it is hoped, to suffer for it, his wound being on the temple, and supposed not to be dangerous. An express was instantly sent for Lord Sandwich. He came about twelve o'clock, in the most lamentable agonies, and expressed a sorrow that certainly did infinite honour to his feelings; and, indeed, what feelings must that man have, who would not be agonized on such a subject!

The Morning Post of the following day (April 9th) contains further and more interesting particulars connected with this celebrated tragedy. "On Wednesday night, Miss Ray was coming out of the playhouse, accompanied by Signora Galli, and a gentleman who had politely offered to see her to

her carriage, when she was followed by the resolute assassin who committed the fact. He stepped up to her just as she had her foot on the step of the coach, pulled her by her sleeve, which occasioned her to turn round, when, without the smallest previous menace or address, he put a pistol to her forehead, and shot her instantly dead. He then fired another at himself, which, however, did not prove equally effectual. The ball grazed upon the upper part of the head, but did not penetrate sufficiently to produce any fatal effect; he fell, however, and so firmly was he bent upon the entire completion of the fatal business he had meditated, that he was found beating his head with the utmost violence with the butt-end of the pistol, by Mr. Mahon, apothecary, of Covent Garden, who wrenched the instrument from his hand. He was carried to the Shakspeare Tavern, where his wound was dressed. The body of the lovely victim was likewise carried to the same place.

"In his pockets were found two letters; one a copy of a letter which he had written to Miss Ray, and the other to his brother-in-law, Mr. Booth, of Craven Street. The first of these epistles is replete with warm expressions of affection to the unfortunate object of his love, and an earnest recommendation of his passion. The other contains a pathetic relation of the melancholy resolution he had taken, and a confession of the cause that produced it. He said he could not live without Miss Ray, and since

he had found, by repeated applications, that he was shut out from every hope of possessing her, he had conceived this design as the only refuge from a misery which he could not support. He heartily wishes his brother that felicity which fate had denied him, and requests that the few debts he owed might be discharged from the disposal of his effects. When he had so far recovered his faculties as to be capable of speech, he very calmly begged no questions might be asked him. He then enquired with great anxiety concerning Miss Ray. Being told she was dead, he desired her poor remains might not be exposed to the observation of the curious multitude; adding, he had only to curse the pistol, or his hand, that prevented the same fate he designed for himself. About five o'clock in the morning, Sir John Fielding came to the Shakspeare, and, not finding his wounds of a dangerous nature, committed him to Tothill Fields Bridewell, where he now lies in a fair way of recovery, and under the guard of a person set over him, to prevent him in any future attempts upon his life. The name of this ill-fated criminal is Hackman. He is now a clergyman, though about four years ago he was an officer in the 38th regiment of foot; but, not meeting with success in the military profession, by the advice of his friends he soon after quitted it, and assumed the gown.

"Yesterday the coroner's inquest sat on the body, and examined the several witnesses. One Connor, a chairman, swore that he saw the murder