There will also be found in the Appendix an extract from, a letter from Dunkirk, published in the London Magazine for February, 1753, containing what appears to be a reliable account of the last days of Mary Blandy’s lover; the particulars given are in general agreement with those contained in the various “Lives” above mentioned.  Obliged to fly from France, where he had been harboured by one Mrs. Ross, his kinswoman, whose maiden name of Dunbar he had prudently assumed, he sought refuge in Flanders.  Furnes, “a town belonging to the Queen of Hungary,” had the dubious distinction of being selected by him as an asylum.  There, on 2nd December, 1752, “at the sign of the Burgundy Cross,” after a short illness, accompanied, it is satisfactory to note, with “great agonies,” the Hon. William Henry Cranstoun finally ceased from troubling in the thirty-ninth year of his age.  His personal belongings, “consisting chiefly of Laced and Embroidered Waistcoats,” were sold to pay his debts.  On his deathbed he was received into the Roman Catholic Church.  The occasion of so notable a conversion was fittingly marked by the magnificence of his obsequies.  “He was buried,” we read, “in great solemnity, the Corporation attending the funeral; and a grand Mass was said over the corpse in the Cathedral Church, which, was finely illuminated.”  The impressive ceremonial would have gratified vainglorious Mr. Blandy had circumstances permitted his presence.

Some account of the descendants of Cranstoun is given in a letter by John Riddell, the Scots genealogist, hitherto unpublished, which is printed in the Appendix.  George Cranstoun, Lord Corehouse, Cranstoun’s nephew, was afterwards an eminent Scottish judge.

A word as to the guilt of Mary Blandy and her accomplice, which, in the opinion of some writers, is not beyond dispute.  The question of motive in such cases is generally a puzzling one, and in the commission of many murders the end to be gained, always inadequate, often remains obscure.  Barely does the motive—­unlike the punishment which it was the sublime object of Mr. Gilbert’s “Mikado” equitably to adjust—­“fit the crime.”  Mary was well aware that she could not be Cranstoun’s lawful wife, but hers was not a nature to shrink from the less regular union.  Her passion for him was irresistible; she had ample proof of his chronic infidelity, but, in her blind infatuation, such “spots” upon the sun of her affection, were disregarded.  She knew that, but for the L10,000 bait, her crafty lover would surely play her false; her father was sick of the whole affair, and if she went off with the captain, would doubtless disinherit her.  As for that “honourable” gentleman himself, the inducement to get possession of her L10,000, the beginning and end of his connection with the Blandys, sufficiently explains his purpose.  Was not the spirit of his family motto, “Thou shalt want ere I want,” ever his guiding light and principle, and would such a man so circumstanced hesitate to resort to a crime which he could induce another to commit and, if necessary, suffer for, while he himself reaped the benefit in safety?  Had he succeeded in securing both his mistress and her fortune, Mary’s last state would, not improbably, have been worse than her first.