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!”