The judge then put on the black cap, and delivered the following sentence: Prisoner at the bar, you have been convicted of the crime of murder, and one of the most heinous ever committed, but it is no part of my office to dwell on the enormity of your guilt. It is my only duty to pass upon the sentence of the law, and that sentence is—That you be taken to the prison from whence you came, and then to the place of execution, and there be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May the Lord have mercy on your miserable soul!
EXECUTION.
Tuesday, September 4th, was the day appointed for the execution of Youngman, the perpetrator of four murders at Walworth. At an early hour people of the lowest order began to assemble in the neighbourhood of the prison, and by five o’clock every available space was occupied. At seven o’clock the chaplain entered the condemned cell to administer religious consolation to the criminal, and remained with him until the time of his execution. In reply to exhortations addressed to him by the chaplain, he repeated substantially the story he had always told as to his share in the crime. The chaplain urged him not to leave the world with a lie in his mouth. “Well, if I wanted to tell a lie it would be to say that I did it.” He, nevertheless, conducted himself towards the chaplain with respect, listened to him with attention, and joined in prayer; but, beyond those mechanical observances, he showed no evidence whatever of feeling.
The minutes which remained to him to live might now be numbered. He was then conducted to a gateway; in which a corridor he had to traverse terminated, and there, a few minutes before nine, he was pinioned. The procession then formed, the gates were opened, the chaplain commenced reading the burial service, and, so escorted, the convict proceeded to the beam. On arriving at the drop and confronting the mass of human beings he looked wild and startled, but, recovering his composure he allowed himself to be placed on the drop, and, with evident fervency and an audible voice, he followed the chaplain in a prayer, clasping his hands in unmismakeable devotion. For a moment he paused to request the exeeutioner, who was adjusting the noose, to pinion his legs, which was done; and his parting words addressed to the chaplain—were, “Thank you, Mr. Jessop, for your great kindness; see my brother, and take my love to him and all at home.”
The drop fell, and he died in a few minutes.
H. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, New Oxford Street.