They went from the bar reiterating protestations of their innocence, and apparently careless of the miserable and ignominious fate that awaited them.
After conviction Haggerty and Holloway conducted themselves with the most decided indifference. On Saturday, February 21, the cell-door, No. 1, in which they were both confined, was opened about half-past two. They were reading in two prayer-books by candle-light, as the cell was very dark. On Sunday, neither of them attended the condemned sermon, and several magistrates interrogated them; but they still persisted in their innocence.
During the whole of Sunday night the convicts were engaged in prayer. They never slept, but broke the awful stillness of midnight by frequent reciprocal protestations of innocence. At five they were called, dressed, and shaved, and about seven were brought into the press-yard. There was some difficulty in knocking off the irons of Haggerty, and he voluntarily assisted, though he seemed much dejected. A message was then delivered to the sheriffs, that Holloway wanted to speak with them in private. This excited very sanguine expectations of confession; but the sheriffs, on their return, intimated to the gentlemen in the press-yard, that Holloway wanted to address them publicly; and therefore requested they would form themselves into a circle, from the centre of which Holloway delivered, in the most solemn manner, the following energetic address:—“Gentlemen, I am quite innocent of this affair. I never was with Hanfield, nor do I know the spot. I will kneel and swear it.” He then knelt down and imprecated curses on his head if he were guilty, and he concluded by saying, “By God, I am innocent.”
Owen Haggerty first ascended the scaffold. His arms were pinioned, and the halter had been already placed round his neck: he wore a white cap, and a light olive shag great-coat: he looked downwards, and was silent. He was attended by a Roman Catholic clergyman, who read to him, and to whom the unfortunate culprit seemed to pay great attention; he made no public acknowledgment of guilt. After the executioner had tied the fatal noose, he brought up Holloway, who wore a smock frock and jacket, as it had been stated by the approver that he did at the time of the murder: he had also a white cap on, was pinioned, and had a halter round his neck: he had his hat in his hand; and mounting the scaffold, he jumped and made an awkward bow, and said, “I am innocent, innocent, by God!” He then turned round, and, bowing, made use of the same expressions, “Innocent, innocent, innocent! Gentlemen!—No verdict! No verdict! No verdict! Gentlemen. Innocent! innocent!” At this moment, and while in the act of saying something more, the executioner proceeded to do his office, by placing the cap over his face; to which he, with apparent reluctance, complied; at the same time uttering some words which were not heard. As soon as the rope was fixed round his neck, he continued quiet. He was attended in his devotions by an assistant at Rowland Hill’s Chapel.
The last that mounted the scaffold was Elizabeth Godfrey. She had been a woman of the town, aged 34, and had been capitally convicted of the wilful murder of Richard Prince, in Mary-le-bone parish, on the 25th of December 1806, by giving him a mortal wound with a pocket-knife in the left eye, of which wound he languished and died. Immediately on receiving sentence, this woman’s firmness and recollection seemed to fail her, and she appeared bordering upon a state of frenzy. At the place of execution she was dressed in white, with a close cap, and long sleeves, and was attended by the Rev. Mr. Ford, the Ordinary of Newgate; but her feelings appeared to be so much overpowered, that notwithstanding she bore the appearance of resignation in her countenance, her whole frame was so shaken by the terror of her situation, that she was incapable of any actual devotion.
They were all launched off together, at about a quarter after eight. It was a long time before the body of the poor female seemed to have gone through its last suffering.
The crowd which assembled to witness this execution was unparalleled, being, according to the best calculation, near 40,000; and the fatal catastrophe, which happened in consequence, will cause the day long to be remembered. By eight o’clock, not an inch of ground was unoccupied in view of the platform, and the pressure of the crowd was so great, that before the malefactors appeared, numbers of persons were crying out in vain to escape from it. The attempt only tended to increase the confusion, and several females of low stature, who had been so imprudent as to venture among the mob, were in a dismal situation: their cries were dreadful. Some, who could be no longer supported by the men, were suffered to fall, and were trampled to death, and this was also the case with several boys. In all parts there were continual cries of “Murder! murder!” particularly from the female part of the spectators and children, some of whom were seen expiring without the possibility of obtaining the least assistance, every one being employed in endeavours to preserve his own life. The most affecting scene of distress was seen at Green Arbour Lane, nearly opposite the Debtor’s-door. The terrible occurrence which took place near this spot was attributed to the circumstance of two pie-men attending there to dispose of their pies, and it appears that one of them having his basket overthrown, which stood upon a sort of stool upon four legs, some of the mob, not being aware of what had happened, and at the same time being severely pressed, fell over the basket and the man, at the moment he was picking it up, together with its contents. Those who fell were never more suffered to rise, and were soon numbered with the dead.
At this fatal place a man of the name of Herrington was thrown down, who had in his hand his youngest son, a fine boy, about twelve years of age. The youth was soon trampled to death; but the father recovered, though much bruised, and was amongst the wounded in St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. A woman, who was so imprudent as to bring with her a child at the breast, was one of the number killed: whilst in the act of falling, she forced the child into the arms of the man nearest to her, requesting him, for God’s sake, to save its life; but the man, finding it required all his exertions to preserve himself, threw the infant from him. It was fortunately caught at a distance by another man, who, finding it difficult to ensure its safety or his own, got rid of it in a similar way. The child was then again caught by a person, who contrived to struggle with it to a cart, under which he deposited it until the danger was over, and the mob had dispersed.
In other parts, the pressure was so great that a horrible scene of confusion ensued, and seven persons lost their lives by suffocation alone. A cart which was overloaded with spectators broke down, and some of the persons falling from the vehicle, were trampled under foot and never recovered.
During the hour for which the malefactors hung, little assistance could be afforded to the unhappy sufferers; but after the bodies were cut down, and the gallows removed to the Old Bailey yard, the marshals and constables cleared the street, and then, shocking to relate, there lay near one hundred persons dead, or in a state of insensibility, strewed round the street. Twenty-seven dead bodies were taken to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital; four to St. Sepulchre’s church; one to the Swan on Snow-hill, one to a public-house opposite St. Andrew’s church, Holborn; one, an apprentice, to his master’s, Mr. Broadwood, pianoforte maker, Golden-square; a mother was seen carrying away the body of her dead boy; and the body of Mr. Harrison, a respectable gentleman, was taken to his house at Holloway. There was a sailor-boy killed opposite Newgate by suffocation: he carried a small bag, in which he had some bread and cheese, from which it was concluded that he had come some distance to witness the execution.