Williams came forward with a short quick step; and his whole manner was the reverse of that of his companion in guilt. His face had undergone very little change; but in his eye and in his manner there was a feverish anxiety, which was not to be observed during the trial. When he came in front, and laid his hand on the bar, the rapid movement of his fingers on the board—the frequent shifting of the hand, sometimes letting it hang down for an instant by his side, then replacing it on the board, and then resting his side against the front of the dock, showed the perturbed state of his feelings. Once or twice he gave a glance round the bench and the bar, but after that he seldom took his eye from the jury-box.
May came forward with a more firm gait than either of his fellow-prisoners; but his look was that of a man who thought that all chance of life was lost. He seemed desponding; but there appeared that in his despondency which gave an air of—we could not call it daring, or even confidence—we should rather say, a physical power of endurance, which imparted to his whole manner a more firm bearing than that of the other prisoners. He was very pale, but his eye had not relaxed from that firmness which was observable in his glance throughout the whole of the trial.
Ordinary physiognomists, who (without having seen the prisoners) had read the accounts of their examinations at the police-office—of their habits and mode of living, and the horrible atrocities with which there is now no doubt they were familiar—would have been greatly disappointed in the appearance of all of them as they stood at the bar. There was nothing in the aspect or manner of any of them which betokened a predisposition to anything like the outrage on humanity of which they stood convicted. There was something of heaviness in the aspect of Bishop, but altogether his countenance was mild. Williams had that kind of expression with which men associate the idea of sharpness and cunning, and something of mischief, but nothing of the villain. May, who was the best-looking of the three, had a countenance which most persons would consider open and manly. There was an air of firmness and determination about him; but neither in him nor his companions was there the slightest physiognomical trait of a murderer, according to the common notions on the subject.
When the three prisoners were placed at the bar, the names of the jury were called over, and on being asked whether they had agreed to their verdict, they answered that they had.
The question was then put to them as to each of the prisoners, and they returned as their verdict, that John Bishop, Thomas Williams, and James May were severally “Guilty of murder.”
The verdict was received in court with becoming silence; but in a moment it was conveyed to the immense multitude assembled outside, who evinced their satisfaction at the result, by loud and long-continued cheering and clapping of hands. To such an extent was this expression of the popular feeling carried, that the windows of the court were obliged to be closed, in order that the voice of the Recorder might be heard in passing sentence.
The prisoners were severally called upon to say why sentence of death and execution should not be pronounced upon them; but none of them availed themselves of this opportunity of addressing the Court.
The Recorder then proceeded to pass the awful sentence of death upon them, but was for some moments again interrupted by the renewed shouts of the populace from without. Silence having been restored, the learned judge proceeded:—
“Prisoners at the bar, you have been tried by a most attentive and extremely humane jury; and I may say of them, as I have been frequently called upon to say before of juries in that box, that nothing but the most painful feelings of duty, imposed on them under a solemn obligation to their Maker and the public, could have induced them to pronounce a verdict against fellow-creatures, which sentenced them to die. That they have formed a just conclusion—[Here Williams exclaimed, “It is false evidence!”]—every man of common understanding must allow. I shall not detain you long by the few observations which I have to make, considering that your hours are numbered, and that there will be but a very short time between the present moment and that when you will have to appear in the presence of your Creator, to answer for the crime which has this day been proved against you. You have each of you been committed to jail for nearly a month; and I hope that you have employed that time in looking back upon the course of your guilty lives—for most guilty they have been—violating the laws of your country, and harrowing up the feelings of every relation that may have lost one that was dear to him. I hope from the time you have been in the jail, conscience-stricken as you must have been, you have turned your thoughts to the only source that remained for you—that of diligently seeking that mercy which you may even yet hope for by sincere repentance, and ardent and constant prayers to the Almighty. But if you have lost those precious moments, let me at all events exhort you not to lose another instant of that short period which the laws of society still leave you. The inhumanity and cruelty with which you have committed this crime, have spread a degree of horror through the metropolis, and indeed, I may say, through the whole country. But deeply as you have injured society, and perilously violated the laws, those laws, which are always administered with charity, have provided that in your awful situation you shall have the most zealous assistance of a pious and excellent clergyman of the Church of England, or of any other church to which you may belong; and I hope you will not neglect the solemn warnings and kind admonitions which you will receive from that quarter. I will not trespass on you by making any further observations, but now confine myself to the last painful duty which the law requires of the Court, viz., to pass the awful and dreadful sentence of the law; and that is, that you, John Bishop, you Thomas Williams, and you James May, be taken from this bar to the place from whence you came, and from thence, on Monday morning next, you be taken to the place of execution, and there each of you be hanged by the neck till each of you be dead, after which your bodies are to be given to the surgeons for dissection; and may the Lord God Almighty, the father of all mercies, have mercy on your miserable souls.”
The prisoners scarcely gave any intimation, by their outward appearance, of the awful situation in which they were placed. They were immediately removed from the bar; but before they quitted the court, May exclaimed, “I am a murdered man;” and Williams leaned over the front of the bar, and muttering and pointing at some of the witnesses, declared that they were all murdered men, and that the witnesses would suffer for the false evidence they had given.