A Horrible, Cruel and Bloody Murder at Putney 1614
As usual, this murder pamphlet begins with dire warnings that the ‘Divell’ is always waiting to entice poor humans into sin. In this particular case, he has taken over the faculties of the minds of wretched men and forced them to commit the most desperate and dangerous actions, without a thought for their soul or body, all for the sake of some ‘cankered coin’.
In the Parish of Putney upon Thames in the County of Surrey, five or six miles from the City of London, dwelt a man named Edward Hall. A miller by trade and a man of good reputation who had amassed a large sum of money. Despite his good reputation he had a tendency to miserliness, and it was this propensity for being ‘miserable in his house-keeping’ that earned him the hatred of his servants and family.
Edward Hall’s wife, being close to the end of pregnancy, required a maid to help during her lying in period. To save on this expense, Edward sent his wife many miles into the country to stay with his mother. Whilst she was gone, at ten o’clock on the night of Thursday 21st April, Edward enjoyed a bite of supper and then nodded off in his chair.
Finding their master fast asleep, Edward’s three servants, John Selling, Peter Pett and Edward Streater decided now was the time to carry out their long planned assassination of their master. John Selling produced a pickaxe and gave it to Pett, telling him that he should strike the first blow.
Pett took the pickaxe, and standing behind Edward Hall’s chair, lifted it above his head and swung it down with all his might between his master’s shoulders. Edward Hall gave a great groan and fell down. John Selling snatched the pickaxe out of Pett’s hands and struck the second blow, hitting Hall on the head and beating out his brains.
The third man, Streater, had until now been grinding corn in the mill a short distance from the house, and was unaware of what had transpired until Pett ran to tell him what they had done, and told him to come and look at their handiwork. Streater rushed to the house where Edward Hall lay in the blood and gore of his own brains, then, egged on by the others, he took the pickaxe and buried it in his master’s chest, shattering the breast bone.
The three murderers carried Edward Hall’s body to a stable, dug a hole and buried it, swearing to each other that if any one of them spoke about the deed that person would likewise have his brains beaten out. They brought one of the horses, bridled and saddled it, then took it to Wimbleton Wood and turned it astray so that when it was found wandering alone the assumption would be that thieves had attacked their master, or that some accident had befallen him.
Believing they had covered their back, they returned to the house and searched and ransacked it looking for money. At last they found a sum of forty pounds, but instead of fleeing with their ill gotten gains, they remained at the house for the rest of the week.
Edward Hall’s absence was noticed by his neighbours. This should have been the signal to flee the scene, but the servants reported that he had gone on a long journey, and John Selling travelled to the country to report this to Edward’s wife. In the meantime, Edward Streater, being questioned by officers of the Parish, confessed all. Whilst Selling was away, Pett and Streater were brought before Sir Thomas Gardner, knight and justice of the peace for his Majesty, King James I.
The excuse they gave for the murder was that Edward Hall did not love his wife as well as he ought, he did not give them enough to eat, and finally, they admitted that they had succumbed to the inspiration and instigation of the Devil.
All three were then imprisoned in the White Lyon, an Inn in Southwark which doubled as the borough prison. Here they were kept until the sessions, where they would be ‘given the recompense of their demerits’. One assumes this meant they were hung.
The White Lyon, or Lion, was one of five prisons in the area. It had provided a place to incarcerate prisoners since around 1580. Located in Angel Alley/Angel Court it later fell into disrepair was replaced by the Marshalsea Prison.