On the following morning, Monday the 21st of February, 1803, at half-past six o’clock, the prison bell rang—the signal for unlocking the cells. At seven, Broughton, Francis, Graham, Wood, and Wratton went into the chapel with the Rev. Mr. Winkworth. They attended to the prayers with great earnestness, but at the same time without seeming to lose that firmness which they had displayed since their trial. Before they received the sacrament, four of them confessed they had done wrong, but not to the extent charged against them by the evidence. The fifth, Graham, said that he was innocent of the charges brought against him; but he admitted that he had attended two meetings, the second at the instigation of Francis.
For some time the clergyman refused to administer the sacrament to Francis, because he persisted in declaring he had been guilty of no crime. The clergyman said to him, “You admit you attended meetings?” He answered, “Yes.” “You knew they were for the purpose of overturning the constitution of the country? I by no means wish you to enter into particulars. I only wish you to acknowledge generally.” Francis rejoined, “I admit I have done wrong in attending those meetings;” and the sacrament was then administered to them.
Colonel Despard and Macnamara were then brought down from their cells, their irons knocked off, and their arms bound with ropes. On observing the sledge and apparatus the colonel smilingly cried out, “Ha! ha! what nonsensical mummery is this!”
When the awful procession began, which was at half-past eight o’clock precisely, Macnamara was the first that came out. Colonel Despard was the last that appeared. He stept into the hurdle with much fortitude, having an executioner on the right and on the left, on the same seat, with naked cutlasses. He was thus conducted to the outer lodge, whence he ascended the staircase leading to the place of execution. The prisoners were preceded by the sheriff, Sir R. Ford, the clergyman, Mr. Winkworth, and the Roman Catholic clergyman, Mr. Griffith.
Coffins, or shells, which had been previously placed in a room under the scaffold, were then brought up, and placed on the platform, on which the drop was erected; a bag of sawdust, to catch the blood when the heads were severed from the bodies, was placed beside them. The block was near the scaffold. There were about a hundred spectators on the platform, among whom were some persons of distinction, but the greatest order was observed.
Macnamara was the first on the platform; and when the cord was placed round his neck, he exclaimed, “Lord Jesus, have mercy upon me! O Lord, look down with pity upon me!” The populace were much struck by his appearance. Graham came second; he looked pale and ghastly, but spoke not; Wratton was the third; he ascended the scaffold with much firmness. Broughton, who was the fourth, joined in prayer with much earnestness. Wood was the fifth, and Francis the sixth. They were all equally composed.
Colonel Despard ascended the scaffold with great firmness, and his countenance underwent not the slightest change while the awful ceremony of fastening the rope round his neck, and placing the cap on his head, was performing; he even assisted the executioner in adjusting the rope; and looked at the multitude with perfect calmness.
The clergyman, who ascended the scaffold after the prisoners were tied up, spoke to him a few words as he passed, and the colonel bowed and thanked him. The ceremony of fastening the prisoners being finished, the colonel advanced, as near as he could, to the edge of the scaffold, and made the following speech to the multitude:—
“Fellow Citizens,—I come here, as you see, after having served my country—faithfully, honourably, and usefully served it, for thirty years and upwards—to suffer death upon a scaffold for a crime of which I protest I am not guilty. I solemnly declare that I am no more guilty of it than any of you who may be now hearing me. But, though his Majesty’s ministers know as well as I do that I am not guilty, yet they avail themselves of a legal pretext to destroy a man, because he has been a friend to truth, to liberty, and justice——” [There was a considerable huzza from part of the populace the nearest to him, but who, from the height of the scaffold from the ground, could not, for a certainty, distinctly hear what was said. The colonel proceeded]——“because he has been a friend to the poor and distressed. But, citizens, I hope and trust, notwithstanding my fate, and the fate of those who no doubt will soon follow me, that the principles of freedom, of humanity, and of justice, will finally triumph over falsehood, tyranny, and delusion, and every principle hostile to the interests of the human race. And now, having said this, I have little more to add——” [The colonel’s voice seemed to falter a little here—he paused a moment, as if he had meant to say something more, but had forgotten it. He then concluded in the following manner.] “I have little more to add, except to wish you all health, happiness, and freedom, which I have endeavoured, as far as was in my power, to procure for you and for mankind in general.”
The Colonel generally spoke in a firm and audible tone of voice, and left off sooner than was expected. There was no public expression of feeling at the conclusion of his address.