Copyright 1910 by Harry Hirschfeld.
After the first sight—after that sharp, quivering intake of breath—the gaze of the condemned man shifts about the room. His expression haunts one. You feel that it is both all-seeing and unseeing. The fear of death—a definite emotion—is here portrayed in a fashion that but few have beheld. There is utter finality in that look.
His eyes rest upon you. You feel that he sees you, but that you are simply one of the images in the general make-up of the last picture that is conveyed to his brain. There is no recognition in the glance—just a vague, hopeless and apparently vacant stare, but one which you feel discerns the sharp outlines of the persons and objects in the room, without recognizing features or details.
To me, that quick survey of his surroundings, that final glance of the unfortunate being on the very threshold of his meeting with his God, is the most harrowing of all the gruesome details connected with the administration of man-made Law’s decree.
My watch indicates 5:45 a. m. The condemned man is seated in the Chair. The guards work quickly, two at either side and one at the head of the Chair. The arm straps are buckled fast, the leg straps next, then the face strap, which has an opening for the chin, and the upper part of which mercifully blindfolds the eyes.
The cap, a soft, pliable thing made of a fine copper mesh and lined with sponge, which has been moistened in salt water, is placed upon the head and moulded to fit its contour. To a binding-post on the cap is adjusted the heavy wire that conveys the terrific current from the dynamo in a distant part of the prison. To the bare right leg, another electrode is applied and connected up.
A full minute has elapsed since I heard the “Good-by, all.” The guards have completed their task. My notes now read: “Entered 5:44:10. Chair and strapped 5:45:00.”
“Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world have mercy on me,” chants the priest. And: “Have mercy on me,” comes the broken, almost inaudible and inarticulate response.
I retain my position, note-book and watch in my left hand. I am standing on the right side of, and in the same direct line with, the Chair. The Chair and its occupant, the electrician and myself, form a right angle. I occupy the angle, for at the ends of the lines, which make up that angle, are the two things that demand my undivided attention—the electrician and the condemned. From my point of vantage I can see them both. My eyes are on the condemned man.
I feel the eyes of the electrician upon me. I have a new, bright yellow pencil—freshly sharpened. It is quite necessary for my notes. I hold it vertically on my note-book, and watch the occupant of the Chair. The overwhelming mental tension, coupled with the knowledge of the proximity of death, has a fearsome reaction upon the Chair’s victim. With each rapid inspiration, there is a slight elevation of the shoulders, and as expiration takes place the shoulders sag. This is the very instant I have awaited—the lungs are practically free from air. I dip my pencil quickly from the vertical toward the horizontal.