PREPARATIONS FOR THE EXECUTION,
AND
CONDUCT OF THE PRISONERS.
The public anxiety had been, as we have already stated, more than usually excited during the trials of the conspirators, and much curiosity was, of course, felt as what would be the final result, and on what particular day the unhappy, deluded wretches, would suffer the last dreadful sentence of the law. The public suspense was, however, terminated on Saturday, the day after the passing sentence of death, when his Majesty held a Privy Council, at which Newman Knowles, Esq., the Common-Serjeant of London, (in the absence of the Recorder through indisposition,) was admitted into the presence of the King, to make a Report of the persons convicted of the crime of High Treason before the Special Commissioners, in which the Learned Serjeant was assisted by the Judges present, who tried the prisoners. The Council, at which his Majesty was present, assembled at two o’clock, and continued in deliberation till near four; and, after the Report had been received, the Council proceeded to deliberate upon the fate of the prisoners, and upon the period when it might be proper the execution should take place.
It was at length determined, with a view to render the example more imposing, and to mark the sense which was entertained of the atrocious offence of which the wretched culprits were found guilty, to order them for execution on the following Monday; and that Thistlewood, Brunt, Ings, Davidson, and Tidd, should be the sufferers. But that part of the sentence which directed that their bodies should be quartered was remitted.
The sentence of death on Harrison, Wilson, Cooper, Strange, and Bradburn, was commuted to transportation for life, in conformity with the implied pledge which they received when they agreed to plead Guilty to the indictments; and Gilchrist was respited, without mention of the commutation of punishment.
Mr. Brown, the Governor of Newgate, received the warrant at seven o’clock in the evening, and, accompanied by the Under-Sheriff, immediately went to the condemned room, in which were sitting those who were ordered for execution, attended by eight officers.
When he entered, they rose in the most respectful manner. He held in his hand the Recorder’s warrant, of the contents of which they appeared conscious. A dead silence prevailed; but there was not the slightest agitation observable in the countenances or manner of any one of the prisoners.
Mr. Brown addressed them in the following words:—“It is my painful duty to communicate to you, that I hold the Recorder’s warrant for the execution of you, Thistlewood, Ings, Brunt, Davidson, and Tidd, on Monday morning. I hope and trust that the short time you have to remain in this world will be employed by you in making preparation for that to which you are going.”
Thistlewood immediately, and in the calmest manner, said—“The sooner we go, Sir, the better. Our wish is to die as soon as possible.” The others expressed the same sentiments.
Mr. Brown.—“If any of you wish to have the assistance of a clergyman of any persuasion, during your preparation, let me know it, and I shall apply to the authority by which I am convinced you will not be refused.”
Not a word was uttered by any one of the prisoners.
Mr. Brown then said, “Let me entreat you with effect to give up your thoughts to the contemplation of the change which you are about to undergo. Your time in this life is very short; devote it to repentance, and prayer to that Being who will not desert you at the moment of fatal separation.”
The prisoners did not speak, nor make any sign.
Mr. Brown then left the room, and the miserable men turned to the conversation in which they had been engaged before he entered, without any reference to the tidings they had just heard.
Upon going to the condemned room where the six conspirators who pleaded guilty were confined, Mr. Brown observed a very striking contrast to the scene which he had just quitted, as far as regarded Strange, Bradburn, Cooper, and Gilchrist.
He entered with the Recorder’s warrant in his hand, which contained cheering intelligence to them. Strange, Bradburn, Cooper, and Gilchrist, seemed struck with consternation; but Harrison and Wilson shewed no symptoms of agitation, but appeared rather to despise than to pity the deplorable condition of their companions, and uttered not a word expressive of hope or fear.
Mr. Brown then informed them, that mercy had been extended to them, and that their lives were spared.
Strange, Cooper, Bradburn, and Gilchrist, immediately fell on their knees, and, after a pause, gave utterance to incoherent and unintelligible expressions of gratitude. Harrison and Wilson still remaining silent, and apparently unmoved.
Mr. Brown said, “I have now to show you the dark side of the picture. Your unfortunate miserable companions in crime who were tried, are ordered for execution on Monday morning; and you, Harrison, Wilson, Cooper, Strange, and Bradburn, are transported for life.”
Wilson, who before had appeared perfectly callous, now exclaimed, “Ah! our poor friends; I am indeed sorry for them.” Harrison said nothing; the others were too much occupied with the joy of their own escape to bestow a thought upon those who were to forfeit their lives.
Mr. Brown said, “There is one of the most remarkable circumstances attending your cases that ever took place upon any occasion; and, if you have any feeling, it must make a deep and indelible impression upon you. Those very persons against whose lives your hands were about to be raised, are the men by whose intercession your lives have been saved.”
After Mr. Brown had performed so much of his painful task, he proceeded to another step, which excited in the breast of some of the prisoners a strong feeling of irritation, namely, to place them in separate condemned cells.
They had entertained a hope that they would be permitted to spend the last few hours of their life together, mutually to cheer each other by their example, and to obtain those consolations which the society of friends in so melancholy a situation must necessarily produce. Mr. Brown, however, had received his instructions, and was bound to attend to them, although he might himself have been anxious to grant them every indulgence consistent with their safety.
The five unhappy men, whose hours were now numbered, were each removed to the place appointed, and were still accompanied by two of the under turnkeys.
The reason assigned for this arrangement, was the existence of a spirit of hardihood among the unfortunate men, which, while they remained together, seemed but to increase.
In the early part of Saturday, they had been visited by the Reverend Mr. Cotton (the Ordinary of Newgate), and exhorted by him to have recourse to those prayers which had been so strongly and humanely recommended by the Lord Chief Justice. They were, however, deaf to his entreaties, and conjointly told him, that however much they respected his motives, still that their minds were made up on religious subjects; they were Deists, and therefore not inclined to join in that form of appeal to Heaven, which, in the exercise of his sacred functions, he thought it necessary to suggest. Mr. Cotton finding that his arguments were productive of no good effect, left them with regret.
He repeated his visits during the afternoon, but with as little success, and then determined not to renew his solicitations for some hours, which would allow time for quiet reflection, concluding that while their minds were in a state of irritation, he was still less likely to open their hearts to that contrite feeling, from which he could alone hope to bring them to a true sense of their situation.
On Sunday morning he re-commenced his pious labours, and on entering their cells, repeated his former arguments; but they again repeated their disbelief in the divinity of Christ, and refused through his mediation to seek pardon of their offended Maker.
Davidson alone listened with attention, and he at length begged Mr. Cotton to procure him a Wesleyan minister. His wish was communicated to Mr. Brown, who, in the course of the morning attended at Whitehall, and reported the circumstance. The Wesleyan minister selected by Davidson, was a person of the name of Rennett, who, it seems, had been a journeyman tailor, and had sometimes preached among the Wesleyans; Davidson’s selection of him on this occasion, was founded on some slight knowledge of him. As this man, however, was in a situation in life not well adapted to reveal the holy tenets of salvation to a dying man, it was thought prudent to decline introducing him to the prisoner.
In the course of Sunday, a most decided change took place in Davidson’s manner and conduct, and having been induced to abandon his wish of receiving spiritual comfort from the Wesleyan minister, it was suggested, that if he desired it, he should have a regular clergyman of any persuasion he might think fit. On hearing this proposition again repeated to him, the rays of Christianity, burst, as it were, through his dungeon’s gloom, and he immediately requested the spiritual consolation of the Reverend Mr. Cotton. That gentleman visited him immediately, and continued to attend him, and to administer all the consolation in his power to the wretched man, up to the last moment of his life. The unhappy Davidson also begged to be favoured with pen, ink, and paper, as he was anxious to write to Lord Harrowby, towards whom he continued to express the warmest respect. This request was granted, and he wrote a letter of some length, (see p. 410) which he sealed, and which was afterwards given to Mr. Under-Sheriff Turner, to be delivered.
On Sunday afternoon, the heart-rending scene of introducing the families of the wretched men to take a last farewell, was gone through.
Thistlewood’s interview with his wife and son was truly affecting; and the scenes exhibited in the other cells were of the most agonizing description. The unfortunate children, capable of understanding the situation of their unhappy parents, were convulsed with sorrow. The strongest feelings of commiseration were excited in the minds of those whose painful duty it was to be present.
Brunt formed a solitary exception to this remark. His composure on taking leave of his wife was of the most extraordinary description: he expressed himself in the most unmoved manner, and declared that the day of his execution would be to him the happiest of his life.
The solemn service of the condemned sermon, usually preached in the chapel at Newgate, to repentant criminals, who are about to expiate their crimes with their blood, was on this occasion, reluctantly dispensed with. The miserable malefactors had so decidedly pronounced themselves Deists, and (with the exception of Davidson, and even he, until Sunday, had fully concurred with them) had evinced in all parts of their conduct so awful a disregard of the precepts of Christianity and disbelief in its divine origin, as to excite an apprehension that their blasphemous principles would manifest themselves in some dreadful act of infidelity during divine service; it was therefore thought more prudent to omit the ceremony altogether, than to subject the administration of our holy religion to public insult by avowed and hardened infidels; and this determination was perfectly agreeable to the miserable beings themselves, who had boasted of being impenetrable to repentance, and determined to end the brief remnant of their days in the same horrid anti-christian principles which they had throughout professed.
In the course of Sunday, Alderman Wood called twice upon Mr. Brown, and requested to be introduced to the prisoners. Mr. Brown said he would willingly have complied with the worthy Alderman’s request, but his instructions were, not to permit any person to have intercourse with the unhappy men, save their families, unless under the sanction of an order from the Privy Council.
Mr. Alderman Wood then begged that he would carry to the prisoners three written questions, and obtain the answers; but this also Mr. Brown refused, upon the principle of the strict performance of his duty.
During nearly the whole of Sunday night, the deluded malefactors, who were attended by the city constables, slept soundly, and were only awakened by the unbarring of their cell doors, to admit the Reverend Ordinary. He found them in their separate cells, and went to each, urging every pious argument to reclaim them to the paths of Christianity.
On Thistlewood, Tidd, Ings, and Brunt, however, his arguments were unavailing; but on Davidson his endeavours were crowned with success, and in the most fervent manner this unfortunate man joined in prayer with Mr. Cotton for mercy at the hands of his Redeemer.
The cells in which these delinquents were confined, though separated by strong walls of stone, were not sufficiently detached to prevent them from speaking to each other, and Ings, speaking, during the night, of the approaching awful exhibition they were to make, remarked to one of his companions, with savage disappointment, “that there would be plenty of persons present; but d—n the ——, they had no pluck.” Indeed, it seemed impossible to divert the mind of this wretched man from the original object by which he had been actuated; he often made declarations of the most terrific nature, and, amongst others, “he wished that his body might be conveyed to the King, and that his Majesty, or his cooks, might make turtle-soup of it!”
At five o’clock on Monday morning, Mr. Cotton went again to the gaol, and proceeded to the condemned cells with the hallowed elements of the sacrament, which was administered to and received by Davidson with the utmost devotion.
The Reverend Gentleman offered the same means of redemption to the other culprits, who, however, were immutable in their infidelity.
Brunt partook of the wine offered to him, but only for the purpose of drinking the King’s health, which he appeared to do cordially. Davidson also drank the King’s health, and joined fervently in the prayer for him and the Royal Family, which is in the established Church Service.
At six o’clock breakfast was ordered for the wretched men, and all but Davidson expressed a desire that they might be allowed to breakfast together. It was known, however, that they wished to arrange and mature what each should say upon the scaffold, and therefore Mr. Brown most prudently refrained from complying with this request.
While these occurrences were taking place within the gaol, the exhibition without was not destitute of interest; and the arrangements making among the persons whose official duties connected them with the final execution of the law, were of the highest importance.
The Sunday papers had announced the period fixed for the execution, and as this was accompanied by a speculation that a scaffold was to be erected on the top of the prison, upon which the ignominious sentence was to be performed, thousands of persons flocked towards the Old Bailey, and continued to do so during the day, assembling in groups for information, and not unfrequently indulging in language disgraceful to themselves, and alarming to those who felt anxious for the peace of the metropolis. Among these persons were many who had long been known as the constant attendants at those factious meetings, the repetitions of which have been productive of so much mischief.
On Saturday evening, Mr. Sheriff Rothwell and Mr. Under-Sheriff Turner, had waited on Lord Sidmouth to arrange the mode in which the execution should take place. The plan at first proposed of erecting a scaffold on the top of the prison at the end near Newgate-street, was then considered and abandoned, Lord Sidmouth being of opinion that there was no necessity for departing from the form customary on like occasions; and, on the suggestion of Sheriff Rothwell, it was further resolved to dispense with that part of the sentence which directed that the culprits should be drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution, in consideration of the great inconvenience that might arise in conveying them along the streets in the manner which had been adopted on former occasions, namely, from the court-yard in front of the Sessions-house to the scaffold.
On the return of Mr. Sheriff Rothwell and Mr. Under-Sheriff Turner, from the office of the Secretary of State, with their final instructions, they directed Mr. Montague, one of the surveyors of public buildings in the city, to make the necessary arrangements for resisting the pressure of the crowd which was anticipated, and for enlarging the ordinary scaffold to such a size as would admit of the performance of the more awful part of the ceremony—that of decapitating the criminals.
To effect these works, a great number of men were suddenly called into requisition, and during the whole of Sunday they were actively engaged.
The addition to the scaffold was made in the Court-yard in front of the Sessions-house, and the loud strokes of the carpenters’ hammers soon attracted the attention of the passengers, hundreds of whom mounted upon the wall to view what was going forward. The confusion created at this spot induced Mr. Montague to send to the Lord Mayor for the aid of some constables, and in a short time the City Marshal, arrived at the head of several officers. The crowd was immediately removed from the wall, and order was restored.
Curiosity was next directed to the workmen at the ends of the various avenues leading to the Old Bailey, across which strong posts and rails were erected in such a manner as to prevent the distant crowd from throwing the whole of their weight on those in front, and thereby preventing that confusion and danger which otherwise would have been incurred, and which was productive of such melancholy consequences at the execution of Holloway and Haggerty, for the murder of Mr. Steel[2].
There were double rows of rails across the top of the Old Bailey, across Newgate-street, Giltspur-street, Skinner-street, Fleet-lane, and in fact at the mouth of every approach to the prison.
In the course of Sunday morning Mr. Sheriff Rothwell and Mr. Under-Sheriff Turner held a consultation with the Lord Mayor, as to the necessity of applying to the Secretary of State for the Home Department, to direct the attendance of a military force, not alone in the prison, but in its immediate vicinity.
The result of their deliberations was, that such an application was highly proper; and accordingly Mr. Turner was despatched to Whitehall, with a letter to Lord Sidmouth, intimating the wish of the Lord Mayor. In consequence of this application, in the course of the afternoon one hundred men were ordered to proceed to the gaol of Newgate, and a detachment of fifty was quartered in Giltspur-street Compter.
Other detachments were on duty at a short distance from the prison. In fact, every possible precaution was adopted to prevent disturbance or disorder.
As the evening advanced, the throng in front of the prison increased, and at eight o’clock the pressure was so great, that it required the utmost exertions of the constables on duty to prevent the interruption of the workmen. Thousands of all ranks and ages congregated in front of the gaol.
The scaffold had been brought forth from the Court-yard, and the carpenters were busily employed in erecting the additional platform, which was ten feet square, and constructed with great solidity. They continued their operations by torch-light, which seemed as it were but to make “darkness visible,” and considerably enhanced the solemnity of the scene.
Such was the anxiety of some to witness the execution, that they literally determined to remain in the neighbourhood all night, and thousands sacrificed their natural rest to the gratification of their curiosity.
The windows of the houses in the Old Bailey and the streets adjacent, commanding a view of the scaffold were let out at exorbitant prices. The sums demanded for a view from the windows were from ten shillings to two guineas, but even at these prices there was a superabundance of applicants.
Very early on Monday morning, the bar, which had previously been bounded but by one rank of spectators, was enclosed by a second, and the assembling populace soon began to assume the appearance of a crowd. They stood in immense masses by the time the clock struck five.
An idea partially prevailed, that the area immediately without the rail which encompassed the scaffold, where on ordinary occasions spectators are allowed to stand, would be cleared out when the constables arrived, and this induced many to take their stations beyond the first barrier. This apprehension turned out to be well-founded; and, at a quarter past five, those who had been for hours clinging to the inner rail were obliged reluctantly to abandon the situations in which they had proposed to witness the execution. No exceptions were made; and none but officers, and those engaged to assist in the preparations, were suffered to remain. Compelled to retire from the immediate vicinity of the scaffold, they attempted to take up a position beyond the first rail, but they were again disappointed, and the officers still pressed on them till they had retreated beyond the second bar, which was placed at the very extremity of the Old Bailey, on a line with Newgate-street.
The lamp-iron which is fixed in the wall of the prison between the corner of the street and the Debtor’s door had been climbed by three persons, and that at the corner was taken possession of in the same way. Both were now relieved from the load which they had sustained for hours. The pump, and the lamps above it, were crowded to an extraordinary degree. The situation appeared one of danger, but those who had taken the trouble to ascend it were suffered to remain.
When the crowd had passed the second bar (that which crossed the road from the end of Newgate-street), it was immediately lined with constables. In the opposite direction, a similar course was taken, and a bar erected a little below the Felons’ door precluded on that side any closer approach.
An extensive area was thus taken from the ground which the populace on ordinary occasions are suffered to occupy. The precautions adopted on this occasion greatly surpassed those resorted to on that of Bellingham’s execution; but placards like those then addressed to the populace, warning them of the danger of pressing forward too eagerly, from the more efficient measures taken to guard against the pressure of the crowd, were thought unnecessary.
Between five and six o’clock a great quantity of sawdust was brought out and deposited beneath the scaffold on which the decollations were to be performed. It was shortly afterwards transferred to the top of it, and at the same time black cloth was brought, and the scaffold erected in the rear of the drop was completely covered with it. The posts which sustained the chains above it received the same sable attire; and while these preparations were in progress, every avenue leading into the Old Bailey was carefully secured by strong wooden rails fixed across, and guarded by constables.
At twenty minutes before six, a party of the Foot Guards (sixty-one in number) came out of the prison by the felons’-door; they passed down Brown’s-yard, opposite Newgate, where they were ordered to remain till their services should be required. At the same time, a detachment moved down Newgate-street towards the City, to secure the peace of the metropolis, should it be in any manner threatened.
Before six o’clock, the City-Marshals arrived; and Mr. Sheriff Rothwell made his appearance at the same moment. He was not accompanied by his colleague, the Junior Sheriff. He carefully inspected the preparations for the awful business of the morning. The crowd, before repressed beyond the felons’-door, were about this time compelled to move still lower down towards Ludgate-hill.
Mr. Alderman Wood also arrived on the spot very early in the morning; and, on first going into Mr. Brown’s office, expressed considerable indignation at his not being suffered to commune with the convicts when he called at Newgate on Sunday; stating that the gaol was no longer under the direction of the city, but under that of Lord Sidmouth, orders having been issued from the Secretary of State’s office, to suffer no one to see these convicts, unless by a properly authenticated order.
At six o’clock the constables assembled in immense numbers, and the firemen from the different insurance-offices were among them.
Shortly after six, the City-Marshal called over the names of the officers in attendance from the different City wards. This done, they were formed into several parties, and its proper station was assigned to each.
At this time the Lord-Mayor attended, and, accompanied by the City-Marshal superintended the whole of the arrangements.
During the time occupied by the preparations above described, the conduct of the countless thousands assembled on this awfully interesting occasion was peaceable in the extreme. Curiosity seemed powerfully excited; but no political feeling was manifested by any part of the crowd, and they awaited the termination of the dreadful scene in silence. Sometimes a low murmur ran through the expecting multitude, as some new object connected with the proceedings was pressed on their attention; but it was a murmur of surprise or of interest, which never took the tone of clamorous disapprobation.
For a rescue—if it was ever contemplated—all hopes of accomplishing it must have been annihilated by the precautions we have enumerated. The powerful force assembled on the spot must have convinced the most frantic Radicals that all resistance was vain, and escape on failure impossible.
It was generally reported that the execution would take place an hour before the usual time of execution. At a quarter before seven, the persons accommodated at the top of the prison were observed to retire from the front of the building. This, in consequence of the rumour just alluded to, caused it to be generally surmised that the prisoners were about to be led out immediately. The rumour, however, proved to be unfounded.
At seven o’clock, the crowd which was collected about the prison, in every avenue leading to it, or commanding the most distant glimpse of its walls, was beyond all calculation; but still there was not the least appearance of disorder. In fact, such were the formidable preparations to preserve the peace, that no possible alarm could exist. In the event of a riot, however, the Lord Mayor was prepared with large boards on poles, ready to be used, should it become necessary to read the Riot Act. They were brought within the rail which enclosed the gallows; and bills were immediately nailed to them, containing, in large characters, the following words:
THE RIOT-ACT HAS BEEN READ.
DISPERSE IMMEDIATELY.
These were then laid down on each side of the debtors-door. Of course they were not exhibited to the populace, being only prepared to be used in case of necessity, that, if unhappily it should become the duty of the civil authorities to have recourse to so strong a measure, it might be impossible for the multitude to be ignorant of the peril to which they would be exposed by neglecting to yield prompt obedience to the mandate.
A party of the Life Guards was stationed towards the lower end of the Old-Bailey, and a small detachment appeared at the end next St. Sepulchre’s Church. On a sudden a loud noise attracted the attention of every one; this was caused by the awkward situation in which a person had placed himself, who, having got within the second bar, had clambered up against one of the houses, where the constables, who felt it their duty to remove him, could not get at him. He was at length pulled down by the heels, amidst the boisterous laughter of the crowd, who in this manifested all the thoughtless levity of a common mob—a levity not unlike that described by the unfortunate Hackman to have preceded the execution of Dr. Dodd[3].
Several persons of distinction—among others some military officers of rank—arrived in the course of the morning, and Mr. Brown, the gaoler, afforded them accommodation in his house. They took their places at the drawing-room windows, and were thus enabled to command an excellent view of the whole melancholy scene.
Shortly after seven o’clock, the executioner made his appearance on the drop, and placed the steps by which he was to ascend to tie the sufferers to the fatal beam. The saw-dust, which had been previously collected in two small heaps on the second scaffold, was now spread over the boards.
The coffins were then brought out, and placed on the saw-dust, the foot of each being put so as nearly to touch the platform, from which those who were to fill them were to be launched into eternity. They had no lids on them. The coffin of Thistlewood was first lifted out. The third coffin brought out appeared longer than the others, and was supposed to be intended for Davidson, who was the tallest man; but this conjecture proved erroneous.
The persons employed to bring the coffins swept out the large one, and then proceeded to throw saw-dust into them, that the blood of the sufferers might not find its way through.
The block was now brought up, and placed at the head of the first coffin. Most of the spectators were surprised at the shape of the block, as, instead of presenting a flat surface, it was slanted off, so that the top of it was quite sharp.
The awful moment was now rapidly approaching when the ill-fated men were to be removed to another world. Each of them conversed freely with the officers who had them in charge, and severally declared that moment to be the happiest of their lives.
Davidson alone continued to pray fervently to the moment of his removal; but the others seemed perfectly unmoved by their approaching fate.
The six prisoners who had received the royal clemency, had been previously removed to another part of the prison, under the care and superintendence of a turnkey.
The four before-mentioned, viz. Strange, Cooper, Bradburn, and Gilchrist, continued to express themselves in the most grateful and enthusiastic terms, that their lives had been saved through the kind and benevolent interposition of those illustrious personages whose lives were intended to fall sacrifices to their diabolical project; but Wilson and Harrison persisted in the most obstinate indifference to the mercy which had been so graciously extended towards them. During the night and morning, they became excessively uneasy; and, while they wept for the ignominious fate of their companions, they expressed a wish that they might have been participators in its consequences, horrible as they were.
About half-past seven o’clock, the Sheriffs, Under-Sheriffs, several young noblemen, and a number of gentlemen, walked in the procession (as is usual) through the various passages in Newgate, till they arrived at the door of the condemned cells, which comes into the press-yard. The unhappy criminals, since receiving sentence of death, had been confined in the lower ward of the prison assigned to capital convicts.
Thistlewood came out of the condemned cell first; he bowed to the Sheriffs and gentlemen present; he looked very pale, he cast up his eyes, and said, “It appears fine.” He displayed uncommon firmness, and held out his hands for the assistant executioner to tie them. He observed to the persons near him, that he never felt in better spirits in the course of his life. He was attired in the same apparel that he wore during his trial. The composure he exhibited was striking; but there was nothing like bravado or carelessness. He now advanced to the block to have his irons knocked off; and, while the turnkey was in the act,
Mr. Alderman Wood advanced to Thistlewood, and said, “Thistlewood, I wish you to give me an answer to two or three questions.”
Mr. Sheriff Rothwell—“Mr. Alderman, I must interfere. I am sure you have had quite experience enough of magisterial duties to know, that on a solemn occasion of this kind, you ought not to interfere with a prisoner on the point of death.”
Mr. Alderman Wood—“You prevented me, Mr. Sheriff, from entering Newgate yesterday, to obtain the information I am now about to seek. You have no authority to prevent me from now having it, as the gaol is this day under the superintendence of Lord Sidmouth; and I must persist in obtaining answers to my questions, if the prisoner chooses to give them.”
Mr. Sheriff Rothwell—“I cannot suffer you to disturb the quiet of this unhappy man’s mind at this awful moment, Mr. Alderman. I must, by virtue of my office, interfere, and prevent you from doing any thing which can have a tendency to distract the mind of a man in his awful situation—one who is indeed dead in law.”
Mr. Sheriff Parkins—“I must insist on the Worthy Alderman’s being permitted to put any question he pleases, unless the prisoner objects. I now authorise Alderman Wood to put whatever questions he wishes.”
Mr. Sheriff Rothwell—“Well, I must again object. I think it highly improper.”
Mr. Alderman Wood—“I have the questions here written down, and I’ll put them to you. Thistlewood, when did you first become acquainted with Edwards?”
Thistlewood—“About June last.”
Mr. Alderman Wood—“Where did you become acquainted with Edwards?”
Thistlewood—“At Preston’s.”
Mr. Alderman Wood, who did not appear to have heard the final letter, said, “At Preston, in Lancashire?”
Thistlewood—“No: at Preston’s, the shoemaker.”
Mr. Alderman Wood—“Did he ever give you any money?”
Thistlewood—“Yes, I had a little from him, a pound-note at a time.”
The Worthy Alderman wrote down the answers he had received to his questions.
Mr. Sheriff Rothwell appeared extremely angry at the course taken by the Worthy Alderman, while his colleague, Mr. Sheriff Parkins, expressed his warm approbation of it.
Tidd next made his appearance; he came out of the cell into the Press-yard with an air of assumed gaiety. He smiled during the time he was being pinioned, and continued quite cheerful during the time his irons were knocking off. The moment his legs were free from their burden, he ran towards Thistlewood, who had taken a seat on a bench (placed in the yard for the purpose), and said, “Well, Mr. Thistlewood, how do you do,” and they shook hands most heartily. Thistlewood said, “He was never better.” Tidd conversed in the most gay and cheerful manner with the turnkey, while he was driving the rivets out of his irons, and composedly assisted the man in taking them off.
Ings then came out of the cell, and danced as he came down the steps along the yard. He was dressed in his usual clothes as a butcher, a rough pepper-and-salt coloured worsted jacket, and a dirty cap. During the time his hands were being tied he became thoughtful, afterwards he seemed hurried and in great mental pain; but before his irons were knocked off he began to laugh and shout, and afterwards took a seat by the side of his fellow-sufferers.
Brunt was then brought into the Press-yard; he was perfectly composed, but looked round eagerly to see his wretched companions. He nodded to them, and then held out his hands to have them tied. He said nothing during the time he was being pinioned and having his irons taken off; but afterwards he addressed Thistlewood, Tidd, and Ings; he told them to keep up their spirits, and to one of his companions he said, “All will soon be well.”
Davidson was then brought out of his cell; he seemed a little affected at the sight of his companions, but soon regained that composure which he evinced during the trials. His lips moved; but he did not betray much anxiety till his irons were knocked off. He then looked wildly at the Rev. Mr. Cotton, and appeared to be in prayer, very devoutly; the others declared they were about to die in peace with all mankind, but that they had all made up their minds on religious matters, and were determined to die Deists.
Davidson took the sacrament in the morning at six o’clock, from Mr. Cotton, and prayed most fervently. He also joined the Rev. Gentleman in a prayer for the prosperity of his Majesty King George IV., though he avowed he had not the same feeling for his ministers. A glass of wine was offered to Thistlewood, who politely refused. Tidd and Brunt took a glass each.
The irons of the culprits were then knocked off in succession. Thistlewood requested Mr. Cotton to speak to him, but for no other motive than to request he would observe his conduct had been manly, and to state that he was perfectly happy, and died in peace with God.
Even to the last moment, the attentions of the Reverend Ordinary to the four men whom we have pointed out were unavailing: to every remonstrance he offered, the only answer was, they wanted no assistance of his, their minds were perfectly made up on religious subjects, and they believed they should receive mercy at the hands of God.
When the awful ceremony of pinioning the culprits by the yeoman of the halter was concluded, they each shook hands, and most fervently exclaimed, “God bless you.” The Reverend Mr. Cotton then began to read the burial service, commencing at the words “I am the resurrection and the life,” &c., and, the arrangements being completed, the procession advanced through the dark passages of the gaol, led by the Sheriffs and Under-Sheriffs. The Reverend Mr. Cotton moved first.
Thistlewood followed, with his eyes fixed, as it were, in abstract thought, and apparently lost to his situation. A vacant and unmeaning stare pervaded his countenance, which seemed unmoved by the devotions of the pious Ordinary.
Tidd walked next, and although somewhat affected by his situation, his manner was collected, manly, and unaffectedly firm.
Ings came next, and was laughing without reserve, and used every forced effort to subdue the better feelings of nature, which might remind him of his awful situation; his conduct was more like a delirium of fear than an effect of courage.
Brunt, in fixed and hardened obduracy of mind, next advanced, and with a sullen and morose air of indifference surveyed the officers who were conducting him to his fate.
The unhappy Davidson came last, with clasped hands and uplifted eyes, praying most devoutly; and the officers of the gaol closed the mournful procession.
On their arrival at the Lodge, from which the Debtors’-door leads to the scaffold, a moment’s pause took place, while the dreadful paraphernalia of death were adjusted without. Thistlewood, who stood first, clasped his lips, and with a frown surveyed, from the door-way in which he stood, the awful preparations for his fate.
The Under-Sheriff, at this period stepped into the road from the Governor’s house, to ascertain how far the preparations had proceeded. Every thing seemed to be completely arranged. A party of the Horse-Guards seemed about to pass the barrier beyond which they had previously been stationed, but they did not persevere, in consequence of the difficulty of penetrating the crowd.
The persons who had previously retired from the front of the prison now (at twenty minutes before eight) returned to their old places on the top of it. This, with other circumstances just particularized, announced that the culprits were about to be conducted to the scaffold.
The re-appearance of the executioner, and the solemn sound of the bell, removed all doubt on the subject. Every one felt that the awful moment was at hand; and the assembled thousands stood uncovered in silent, breathless, expectation.
Those opposite the prison saw in the next moment the procession from the interior of it reach the door through which the culprits were to pass to expiate their crimes with their blood.
The Ordinary ascended the platform, and at a quarter before eight Thistlewood made his appearance on the scaffold. His step faultered a little as he mounted the platform, and his countenance was somewhat flushed and disordered on being conducted to the extremity of the drop. His deportment was firm, and he looked round at the multitude with perfect calmness. He had an orange in his hand. On the cap being placed on his head, he desired that it might not be put over his eyes. While the executioner was putting the rope round his neck, a person from the top of the houses exclaimed, “Good Almighty bless you.” Thistlewood nodded. The Reverend Mr. Cotton, by whom he was preceded, endeavoured to obtain his attention; but he shook his head, and said, “No, no.” He looked round repeatedly, as expecting to recognise some one in the crowd, and appeared rather disconcerted at observing the distance to which the populace were removed.
Some of those to whom the face of Thistlewood was not familiar, imagined that he gave proofs of the fear of death upon the scaffold, but in this supposition they were much mistaken. At the moment that he has been heard uttering his dangerous politics in safety, and declaring his determination to stand or fall by them, the expression of his features was the same; and Thistlewood with the rope round his neck was the same Thistlewood that appeared so conspicuous at Smithfield.
Mr. Cotton approached him while the executioner was making his awful arrangements, and spoke to him upon the subject of his thoughts of hereafter. Thistlewood shook his head, and said he required no earthly help upon that subject. He then sucked his orange, and, looking down at the officers who were collected about the scaffold, said, in a firm voice, “I have but a few moments to live, and I hope the world will be convinced that I have been sincere in my endeavours, and that I die a friend to liberty.”
The figure of the miserable man, which naturally was not good, had undergone a change for the worse: in consequence of the pressure of the rope with which his arms were fastened behind, his shoulders were raised to a degree that closely approached deformity. The executioner having placed the cap upon his head, and fastened the rope round the beam, looked towards the Sheriff as a signal that his duties towards Thistlewood were completed.
While the executioner was performing his last offices without to this wretched man, the scene within the Lodge was almost beyond the power of description. The dreadful obduracy of Brunt and Ings filled with horror the small assemblage of persons among whom they stood.
Ings, with a hardihood almost indescribable, sucked an orange, with which Sheriff Parkins had provided him, as well as all the other prisoners, and sung, or rather screamed, in a discordant voice, “Oh! give me death or liberty!” Brunt rejoined, “Aye, to be sure. It is better to die free, than to live slaves!”
A gentleman in the Lodge admonished them to consider their approaching fate, and to recollect the existence of a Deity, into whose supreme presence a few minutes would usher them.
Brunt exclaimed, “I know there is a God!” and Ings added, “Yes, to be sure; and I hope he will be more merciful to us than they are here.”
Tidd, who had stood in silence, was now summoned to the scaffold. He shook hands with all but Davidson, who had separated himself from the rest.
Ings again seized Tidd’s hand at the moment he was going out, and exclaimed, with a burst of laughter, “Give us your hand! Good-bye!”
A tear stood in Tidd’s eye, and his lips involuntarily muttered, “My wife and——!”
Ings proceeded—“Come my old cock-o’-wax, keep up your spirits; it all will be over soon.”
Tidd immediately squeezed his hand, and ran towards the stairs leading to the scaffold. In his hurry, his foot caught the bottom step, and he stumbled. He recovered himself, however, in an instant, and rushed upon the scaffold, where he was immediately received with three cheers from the crowd, in which he made a slight effort to join.
The applause was evidently occasioned by the bold and fearless manner in which the wretched man advanced to his station. He turned to the crowd who were upon Snow-hill, and bowed to them. He then looked down upon the coffins and smiled, and turning round to the people who were collected in the Old-Bailey towards Ludgate-hill, bowed to them. Several voices were again heard, and some in the crowd expressed their admiration of Tidd’s conduct.
The rope having been put round his neck, he told the executioner that the knot would be better on the right than on the left side, and that the pain of dying might be diminished by the change. He then assisted the executioner, and turned round his head several times for the purpose of fitting the rope to his neck. He afterwards familiarly nodded to some one whom he recognised at a window, with an air of cheerfulness. He also desired that the cap might not be put over his eyes, but said nothing more. He likewise had an orange in his hand, which he continued to suck most heartily. He soon became perfectly calm, and remained so till the last moment of his life.
In the interim, Davidson, who had not yet come out, leaned with his back against a dresser in the lodge, and continued with his hands clasped, praying in the most fervent manner, and calling with unfeigned and unreserved piety for the intervention of the Redeemer. Brunt and Ings, however, persevered in the same hardihood that they had manifested throughout, and continued venting their thoughts in unreserved ejaculations.
A humane individual who stood by remonstrated with Brunt again, and besought him to ask pardon of God.
Brunt, with a fierce and savage air, surveyed his adviser contemptuously, and exclaimed, “What have I done? I have done nothing! What should I ask pardon for?” The stranger rejoined, “So you say, Brunt; but if you have ever injured any man, or done any thing which your conscience tells you is wrong, ask pardon of God, penitently and sincerely, and you will, I have no doubt, obtain mercy.”—Brunt replied, “I die with a perfectly clear conscience. I have made my peace with God, and I never injured no man.” The stranger proceeded, “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ!” Brunt surveyed his humane adviser again, and muttered, “My mind is made up.”
“Well done, Brunt!” exclaimed Ings, and was again proceeding to sing,
“Oh give me death or liberty,”
when he was summoned to the scaffold. He turned to Brunt, and, with a smile on his countenance, shook hands with him, and prepared to go. While the hatch was opening, he exclaimed, with a loud voice, “Remember me to King George the IVth; God bless him, and may he have a long reign.” He now recollected that he had some clothes left behind, which he requested might be given to his wife. The wretched man had thrown off the clothes in which he had been tried, and had put on an old butcher’s jacket, determining, as he said, “that Jack Ketch should have no coat of his.”
While he stood on the edge of the steps, at the door of the gaol, he said to Davis, one of the turnkeys, “Well, Mr. Davis, I am going to find out this great secret,” and then springing upon the scaffold, exclaimed, “Good-bye! Gentlemen. Here goes the remains of an unfortunate man.”
He rushed to the platform, upon which he leaped and bounded in the most frantic manner. Then turning himself round towards Smithfield, and facing the very coffin that was soon to receive his mutilated body, he raised his pinioned hands, in the best way he could, and leaning forward with savage energy, roared out three distinct cheers to the people, in a voice of the most frightful and discordant hoarseness. But these unnatural yells of desperation, which were evidently nothing but the ravings of a disordered mind, or the ebullitions of an assumed courage, struck the majority of the vast multitude who heard them with horror.
Turning his face towards Ludgate-hill, he bowed, and cried out, “This is going to be the last remains of James Ings,” and shouted out part of the song in which the words Death or Liberty are introduced. He laughed upon looking at the coffins, and said, turning his back to them, “I’ll turn my back upon death!—Is this the gallows they always use? Those coffins are for us, I suppose.”
Tidd, who stood next to him, and had the moment before been in conversation with Thistlewood, turned about, and said, “Don’t, Ings. There is no use in all this noise. We can die without making a noise.” Ings was silent for a few moments; but as the executioner approached him with the rope, he called out, “Do it well—pull it tight!”
When the executioner threw the rope round the beam, he said, “Give me a better fall; the others won’t have fall enough.” When the man put him on the cap, Ings said, “I have got a cap of my own; put it over this night-cap, and I’ll thank you.” The executioner proceeded to do so; but Ings said, “It will do when we are going off: let me see as long as I can.” He then pushed the cap from his eyes. The others had raised the caps from their eyes. “Here I go, James Ings!” said he, “and let it be known that I die an enemy to all tyrants. Ah ha! I see a good many of my friends are on the houses.”
Again Tidd turned round to Ings, and, as it appeared, at the suggestion of Thistlewood, requested that he would not continue the noise. Ings laughed and remained silent for a few minutes.
Mr. Cotton approached Tidd and Ings, but they turned away from him. Ings smiled at his interference, but Tidd turned round to Thistlewood and spoke a few words, in which he seemed to complain of the inclination of the Ordinary to break in upon their last moments.
Thistlewood now said to Tidd, “We shall soon know the last grand secret.”
Brunt, who, after the departure of Ings, stood by himself within the porch of the prison, having no companion of his own principles to encourage him, (as Davidson stood far away from him,) muttered something about the injustice of his fate. The persons around him repeatedly entreated him to alter his religious creed, during the last few moments left, and to believe in the Saviour of the world. Still immutable—still hardened in iniquity—he listened not to the remonstrances of sincere friends, who besought him, for his wife’s sake, and for the sake of his son, to ask the protection of the Redeemer for them; but he appeared tired of these friendly importunities, and wished to ascend the scaffold next.
Davidson, however, was summoned before him, and with a composed countenance and a firm step he passed by his former companion in guilt to his fate, without noticing him.
Brunt now appeared considerably irritated. “What,” he exclaimed, “am I to be the last? Why is this? They can have my blood but once, and why am I to be kept to the last? But I suppose they are afraid I should say something to the people, because I spoke my mind on the trial. However, I don’t care.”
Davidson walked up the platform with a firm and steady step, but with all that respectful humility becoming the condition to which he had reduced himself. He bowed to the crowd, and instantly joined Mr. Cotton in prayer. He seemed inattentive to every thing but the journey he was about to take, and his lips moved in prayer until he was no longer able to speak. He made no request to have his eyes uncovered, but was evidently preparing himself for bidding an eternal adieu to a world of which he had ceased to be an inhabitant.
Brunt was the last summoned to the fatal platform, and he rushed upon it with impetuosity. Some of the people cheered him, which evidently gratified and pleased him. It brought a sort of grin on his countenance, which remained till his death. But his aspect “belied his utterance.” Externally he appeared to have shrunk more from his fate than any one of his wretched companions; his cheeks had sunk extremely, giving a degree of ghostly prominence to a forehead, cheek-bones, and chin, naturally very much protruded, and his colour was of a livid paleness; but the eyes of the man sent forth from their deep recesses glances of distressing keenness; his lips were firmly compressed together; not a tear trickled down his cheeks; there was no quaking of the members. To use an expressive phrase of his speech on receiving sentence, “he went through with the business.” “What,” said he, “soldiers! What do they do here? I see nothing but a military government will do for this country, unless there are a good many such as we are. I see a good many of my friends round about.”
While the rope was being adjusted, he looked towards St. Sepulchre’s Church, and perceiving, or affecting to perceive, some one with whom he had been acquainted, he nodded several times, and then made an inclination of the head towards the coffins, as if in derision of the awful display. His conduct was marked by the same irrational levity to the last. When his handkerchief was taken off, the stiffener fell out, and he kicked it away, saying, “I shan’t want you any more.”
His last act was to take a pinch of snuff from a paper which he held in his hand. He stooped to put it to his nose, and this he was only able to effect by pushing up the night-cap which hung over his face. He also threw off his shoes.
The executioner was now proceeding to adjust the ropes, and to pull the caps over the faces of the wretched men. A voice from the crowd again called out, “God bless you, Thistlewood!” Thistlewood looked towards the place from which it issued, and slightly inclined his head. He then said a few words in a whisper to Tidd, and awaited his fate in silence.
Brunt refused altogether to speak with Mr. Cotton upon the subject of the next world, and declared that he had done all he thought necessary for the place to which he was going. He appeared disposed to address the crowd, but they were at too great a distance, and the executioner was quick at his work.
The cap was first drawn over the face of Thistlewood, and his cravat was bound over his eyes. He stooped gently while the man tied it, and appeared to direct him as to the way in which he wished it done.
When the executioner came to Ings, the unhappy man said, “Now, old gentleman, finish me tidily. Tie the handkerchief tight over my eyes. Pull the rope tighter; it may slip.”
When the handkerchief was tied over his eyes, he cried out, “I hope, Mr. Cotton, you will give me a good character!” and commenced swinging about in his hand an old night-cap in the most careless manner.
Tidd’s lips were in motion just before he was turned off, as if in prayer. Davidson was in the most fervent prayer, and seemed to feel his situation with a becoming spirit. He firmly pressed the hand of the Rev. Mr. Cotton.
The executioner having completed the details of his awful duty, by placing the criminals in a proper situation upon the trap-door, walked down the ladder, and left Mr. Cotton alone upon the scaffold. The Reverend Gentleman standing closer to Davidson than to any of the rest, began to read those awful sentences which have sounded last in the ears of so many unhappy men. Suddenly the platform fell, and the agonies of death were exhibited to the view of the crowd in their most terrific form.
Thistlewood struggled slightly for a few minutes, but each effort was more faint than that which preceded; and the body soon turned round slowly, as if upon the motion of the hand of death.
Tidd, whose size gave cause to suppose that he would “pass” with little comparative pain, scarcely moved after the fall. The struggles of Ings were great. The assistants of the executioner pulled his legs with all their might; and even then the reluctance of the soul to part from its native seat was to be observed in the vehement efforts of every part of the body. Davidson, after three or four heaves, became motionless; but Brunt suffered extremely, and considerable exertions were made by the executioners and others to shorten his agonies, by pulling and hanging upon his legs. However, in the course of five minutes all was still.
THE DECAPITATION.
Exactly half an hour after they had been turned off, the order was given to cut the bodies down. The executioner immediately ascended the scaffold, and drew the legs of the sufferers up, and placed the dead men, who were still suspended, in a sitting position, with their feet towards Ludgate-hill. This being done, the trap-door was again put up, and the platform restored to its original state. The executioner proceeded to cut Thistlewood down; and, with the aid of an assistant, lifted the body into the first coffin, laying it on the back, and placing the head over the end of the coffin, so as to bring the neck on the edge of the block. The rope was then drawn from the neck, and the cap was removed from the face.
The last convulsions of expiring life had thrown a purple hue over the countenance, which gave it a most ghastly and appalling appearance; but no violent distortion of feature had taken place. An axe was placed on the scaffold, but this was not used.
When the rope had been removed, and the coat and waistcoat forced down, so as to leave the neck exposed, a person wearing a black mask, which extended to his mouth, over which a coloured handkerchief was tied, and his hat slouched down, so as to conceal part of the mask, and attired in a blue jacket and dark-grey trowsers, mounted the scaffold with a small knife in his hand, similar to what is used by surgeons in amputation, and, advancing to the coffin, proceeded to sever the head from the body.
When the crowd perceived the knife applied to the throat of Thistlewood, they raised a shout, in which exclamations of horror and of reproach were mingled. The tumult seemed to disconcert the person in the mask for the moment; but, upon the whole, he performed the operation with dexterity; and, having handed the head to the assistant executioner, who waited to receive it, he immediately retired, pursued by the hootings of the mob.
The assistant executioner, holding the head by the hair over the forehead, exhibited it from the side of the scaffold nearest Newgate-street. A person attended on the scaffold, who dictated to the executioner what he was to say; and he exclaimed with a loud voice—“This is the head of Arthur Thistlewood, the traitor!” A thrilling sensation was produced on the spectators by the display of this ghastly object, and the hissings and hootings of part of the mob were vehemently renewed.
The same ceremony was repeated in front of the scaffold, and on the side nearest Ludgate-street. The head was then placed at the foot of the coffin; while the body, before lifted up to bring the neck on the block, was forced lower down, and, this done, the head was again put in its proper place, at the upper end of the coffin, which was left open.
The block was then moved by the hangman, and placed at the head of the second coffin. The cap and rope were removed from the face and neck of Tidd. The same livid hue which overspread the countenance of Thistlewood was perceptible.
The coat and waistcoat being pulled down, the masked executioner again came forward. He was received with groans, and cries of “Shoot that —— murderer;” “Bring out Edwards,” &c. He seemed less disconcerted than at first, and performed the operation with great expedition, and, having handed the head to the person who had before received that of Thistlewood, he retired amidst yells and execrations.
The assistant executioner then advanced to the side of the scaffold, from which the former head was first exhibited, holding the head between both hands by the cheeks, the forehead of Tidd being bald, and exclaiming, “This is the head of Richard Tidd, the traitor.” The same words were also repeated from the other two sides of the scaffold, and the head was then deposited with the body in the second coffin.
The block was now removed to the third coffin, and the body of Ings, being cut down, was placed in it with the face upwards. The person in the mask again came forward, severed the head from the body, and retired amidst the hootings of the crowd. The assistant-executioner proceeded to exhibit the head, holding it up by the hair in the same way as he had Thistlewood’s, from the three sides of the scaffold, exclaiming, “This is the head of James Ings, the traitor.” The head was then placed in the coffin.
The block being removed to the fourth coffin, the body of Davidson was taken down from the gallows, the noose taken from about the neck, and the cap removed from the face, which remained in death exactly what it had been while living. The mouth was a little open, but no expression of agony, or change of colour, could be remarked. The body was placed in the fourth coffin, and the man in the mask having performed his part, the head was exhibited in the same way as the last, with the exclamation, “This is the head of William Davidson, the traitor.”
Little or no blood had fallen from the other heads, but from this it fell profusely. The hisses and groans of the crowd were repeated on this occasion, while the head was deposited in the coffin which contained the sufferer’s body.
The executioner and his assistant now proceeded to cut down the last of the sufferers, Brunt. The block was placed at the head of the fifth coffin. The blood which had stained the block was wiped off with the saw-dust, and, the rope being cut, they attempted to lift the body to the place where the last part of the sentence was to be executed, when it was found that in putting up the platform part of his clothing had been shut in with it, and held him so tight, that a considerable effort was necessary to disengage the remains of the wretched culprit. He was placed in the fifth coffin.
His miserable and cadaverous countenance presented but a ghastly spectacle while he was alive; but dead, its aspect was little less than terrific; and the dark hair which overhung his forehead came in frightful contrast with the purple hue produced by the agonies of death.
The masked executioner, while performing his duty, happened to let the head fall from his hands on the saw-dust. The howlings and groans of the spectators were again heard at that moment, and amidst these the operator retired, having first handed the discoloured “trunkless ball” to the assistant executioner, who advancing, as in each of the other cases, first to the side of the scaffold nearest Giltspur-street, then to the front, and lastly to the side looking towards the Felons’-door, proclaimed aloud, “This is the head of John Thomas Brunt, the traitor.” His head was then placed in the coffin, and thus terminated this part of the awful business of that memorable day.
The execution occupied an hour and eight minutes. It was a quarter before eight when Thistlewood walked up the steps leading to the fatal platform; and it wanted seven minutes to nine when the head of Brunt was placed in the coffin.
From the manner in which the last part of the execution was performed very little blood was seen on the scaffold. The bodies being placed almost in a sitting attitude in their coffins, the blood could not flow copiously from them at the moment the heads were taken off. It was not till they were laid in a horizontal position that the vital stream could escape freely from the heart.
The person who wore the mask, and who performed the ceremony of decapitation, is said to be the same person who beheaded Despard and his associates. This, however, may be doubted, as, from the quickness and spring of his motions, he seemed to be a young man. His mode of operation showed evidently that he was a surgeon. In performing his dreadful duty, the edge of the first knife was turned by the vertebræ of Thistlewood, and two others became necessary to enable him to finish his heart-appalling task.
The coffins containing the remains of the sufferers were left on the scaffold but for a few minutes after the sentence of the law had been carried into effect. While there they continued open. At nine o’clock they were conveyed into the prison by the Debtors’-door, and this dreadful scene being thus ended, the crowd began peaceably to separate.
In such an immense assemblage, as might be expected, some accidents occurred through the dreadful pressure of the crowd. Some women (and it is painful to record that many women were among the crowd) were brought out fainting, and a boy was severely hurt by the falling of a part of the railing in front of St. Sepulchre’s church. The persons whose weight brought down the railing from the stone base in which it was planted, were thrown on the shoulders of those beneath them, and caused great confusion at the moment, but no more serious accidents occurred than the injury received by the boy above-mentioned.
In addition to the military arrangements on this awful occasion, which we have incidentally mentioned, it was thought necessary to adopt the following precautionary measures, that should any thing like a breach of the peace be attempted, it might be crushed in its infancy; and it is a pleasing part of our duty here to record the prudence which gave rise to these measures, the very excellent and effectual manner in which they were carried into execution, and, above all, the exemplary conduct of the soldiers who were on duty throughout the morning, although they were at times severely, and indeed unavoidably pressed upon by the crowd. The Life Guards were incessantly attentive to prevent their horses from doing any injury, while occasionally driven out of their position by the momentary agitation of the persons immediately near them.
At a very early hour, the neighbourhood of Blackfriars-bridge, being the place appointed for the rendezvous of a considerable number of troops, presented a very novel spectacle. At five o’clock in the morning, six light field-pieces of flying artillery arrived in front of the livery stables, near Christ Church, escorted by the usual complement of men. They drew up in the centre of the street, and remained there until after the execution took place.
At a still earlier hour, three troops of the Life Guards arrived in the neighbourhood of Newgate; one troop and a picquet remained near the scaffold; another picquet was stationed in Ludgate-hill, facing the Old Bailey; and the remaining troop drew up in Bridge-street.
The moment the prisoners were about to be brought out to the scaffold, an officer rode from his station in front of Newgate, communicated with the picquet on Ludgate-hill, and then rode on to the troop in Bridge-street, to whom he immediately gave the word of command to advance. The troop instantly followed the officer, and proceeded onwards until they joined the picquet on Ludgate-hill, with which they halted, and formed in a line, still facing the Old Bailey.
The flying artillery, near Christ Church, also made a movement in advance just at the same time, and formed a crescent across the road; the guns pointing towards the bridge.
The City Light Horse were under arms, in their barracks in Gray’s-Inn-lane, and a number of troops were stationed at various depôts, assigned them at convenient intervals throughout the metropolis.
A little before ten, the multitude having completely dispersed, the detachments marched off to their respective barracks.
DISPOSAL OF THE BODIES.
On the day of execution the friends of the families of the unfortunate men who were executed met at a public-house, and after some discussion upon the subject of raising a subscription for the wives and children of those who were transported, as well as of those who were hanged, adopted a resolution to apply through Lord Sidmouth for leave to take away the bodies of the deceased from Newgate.
The following petition was accordingly drawn up, in the names of the widows of the wretched criminals, and forwarded to Lord Sidmouth, to be by him delivered to his majesty:
To His Most Gracious Majesty the King.
“Sire,
“The Petition of Susan Thistlewood, Mary Tidd, Mary Brunt, Celia Ings, and Sarah Davidson, humbly sheweth, That your Petitioners are the widows of the unfortunate men who this morning suffered the dreadful sentence of the law at the Old Bailey.
“Your petitioners most earnestly entreat your Majesty to grant them one consolation, by restoring to them the mangled remains of their late unfortunate husbands, that they, your petitioners, may shed a silent tear over their mutilated remains, ere they are consigned to the tomb.
“We are confident that all desire of further vengeance has ceased, and that your Majesty will be graciously pleased to order the restoration of the bodies to your humble Petitioners, that they may have them decently interred; and your Petitioners will, as in duty bound, for ever pray, &c.
(Signed)
| “SUSAN THISTLEWOOD, | |
| “MARY TIDD, | |
| “MARY BRUNT, | |
| “CELIA INGS, | |
| “SARAH DAVIDSON.” |
The petition was accompanied by a request to his Lordship that the bodies might be given up to the friends of the deceased, and stating, that the object was the humane one of raising the means of support for the wives and children by a public exhibition.
It is almost unnecessary to state that Lord Sidmouth did not hesitate to refuse the request, a compliance with which would be attended with great inconvenience at least. His lordship stated, in the mildest terms, the impossibility of granting it, contrary as such compliance would be to established usage.
At a late hour in the evening, the wives of the executed men were informed by the keeper of Newgate, that the bodies of their husbands were buried.
In the course of the afternoon a channel had been dug alongside of the subterraneous passage that leads to the cells, and, about seven in the evening, after the coffins had been filled with quick lime, they were strongly screwed up, placed in a line with each other, strewed over with earth, and finally covered with stones, and of course no trace of their end remains for any future public observation. On this circumstance being communicated to their unhappy wives, they were entirely overcome by the poignancy of their feelings.
On the following morning an individual petition was forwarded to the Privy-Council on the part of Mrs. Thistlewood, and was presented to his Majesty, for the body of her husband. A laconic answer was almost immediately returned, “That Thistlewood was buried.”
Transportation of the respited Traitors, Discharge of the suspected Persons, &c.
Very early in the morning of Tuesday, the 2d of May, the day following the execution of their partners in crime, five of the respited traitors, namely, Wilson, Harrison, Cooper, Strange, and Bradburn, were removed from Newgate in three post-chaises, and conveyed under a proper escort to Portsmouth, where they were put on board a convict-ship, which soon after sailed for New South Wales.
Gilchrist was still detained in Newgate, but it was expected his confinement would not be of long duration; the peculiar circumstances of his case having excited a feeling of mercy towards him.
On Saturday the 6th of May, the following persons, whose arrests on suspicion we have previously mentioned, were placed at the bar of the Old Bailey, previous to the adjournment of the court, viz. Thomas Preston, William Simmons, Abel Hall, Robert George, William Firth, and William Hazard. The prisoners being addressed by order of the court, and informed that, as no prosecutors appeared against them, they were discharged, bowed respectfully, and departed, with the exception of Preston, who made an attempt to address the Court, but was immediately silenced.
We have now completed, as far as the individuals arrested were concerned, our narration of the whole of the proceedings relative to the horrid conspiracy, which at one time threatened such awful consequences; but as many circumstances connected with the personal history of the conspirators have been brought to light in the course of the proceedings, which could not well be interwoven in the history of their crimes, we have added in an Appendix such particulars respecting the principal actors in this dreadful tragedy, as we have been able to collect, from a conviction that every circumstance connected with the lives of the ferocious criminals will be considered as interesting.
The infamous Spy and instigator, George Edwards, has also been frequently named as playing a very prominent part in this horrid drama, and, independent of the disclosures of his criminal conduct, incidentally made in the course of the judicial proceedings against the conspirators, the answers given by Thistlewood to the questions put to him by Mr. Alderman Wood, on the morning of the fatal first of May, imparted a certain degree of interest to every circumstance connected with that vile character, and a feeling of indignation, horror, and disgust, was excited in the public mind relative to this consummate villain, which had never been equalled but in the sensation caused by the first discovery of the plot itself.
Consonant with these feelings were the proceedings instituted by Mr. Alderman Wood, both in and out of Parliament, for the apprehension and bringing to trial of this worthless wretch on charges of diverse acts of high treason alleged to have been committed by him; and although we stop not to inquire whether the protection from the consequences of his crimes, experienced by this fellow, be justifiable, or otherwise, we shall certainly be rendering an acceptable service to society and to future generations, in tracing this serpent through all his intricate paths of villany, and cautioning the thoughtless and unsuspecting from becoming the dupes of similar villains, (if any such exist) in their intemperate moments of political animosity.
With this view we have collected all the particulars attainable of the conduct of this arch-fiend both in public or private, as an appropriate addition to the lives of his partners in crime, and, perhaps, in some respects, the victims of his villany.