William Davidson
“I could have proved Dwyer to be a villain of the blackest dye, for, since my trial, an accomplice of his, named Arnold, has been capitally convicted at this very bar, for obtaining money under circumstances of an infamous nature.
“I seek not pity—I demand but justice:—I have not had a fair trial, and, upon that ground, I protest that judgment ought not to be passed against me.”
It is impossible to describe the feelings of horror and disgust which pervaded the mind of every individual in the court during the delivery of this most treasonable and ferocious harangue.—It was of course expected that the wretched criminals would offer something in extenuation of the crimes of which they had been convicted, but it could never have been conceived that any man existed so deeply depraved, and so dreadfully hardened in crime, as to venture to justify projects of assassination, and to propagate doctrines of treason and murder, while standing as it were on the very brink of eternity, and about to be ushered into the presence of that God whom he had braved, by the impious and inhuman declarations to which he had just given utterance.
Mr. Shelton next addressed himself toDavidson, and put to him the same question which he had put to Thistlewood. Davidson advanced, and spoke to the following effect:
“My Lords, you ask me what I have to say why I should not receive judgment to die for what has been said against me? I answer that I protest against the proceedings in this trial in toto.
“In the first place, I always thought that in a court of justice the balance of justice was held with an even hand. But this has not been the case with me; I stand here helpless and friendless. I endeavoured to shew that the evidenceagainst me was contradictory and incredible, and I hoped I had made an impression on the gentlemen in the box; but the moment I was done, the Attorney-General got up, and told them that the evidence was pure and uncontaminated, and to this I may add, that Mr. Baron Garrow almost insisted that they should pronounce me guilty.
“I would ask, has any person identified me but the officers? who, every one knows, have at all times been instrumental in the death of innocent persons.
“I do not now plead for my life; I know I must fall a victim to the vengeance of my enemies. But in what manner have I been guilty of High Treason? It would seem I was a silent spectator; none of the witnesses impute to me a single observation. Now is this probable? I had always got a great deal to say for myself, consequently I was not the person who would stand by without uttering a word; and yet such has been the testimony of Adams.
“Then, with regard to the blunderbuss;—I have already explained that this was not mine, and that I acted in that affair entirely as the agent of Edwards. I have also declared how I came by the sword, and I now declare upon my soul, which will shortly appear before its Maker, that I never made any blow at any man, or discharged any carbine.
“As for Munday, the man who swore that I had a long sword, with a pair of pistols in my girdle, who is he? He is a poor labouring man who comes here for his day’s pay and his victuals, to swear away the life of a fellow creature, and to support the unfounded charge against me that I meant to assassinate his Majesty’s Ministers.
“I appeal to any man, whether it is upon such evidence the life of an innocent man is to be sacrificed? But even supposing, for the sake ofargument, that the lives of his Majesty’s Ministers were threatened, it did not follow that this was to extend to the King himself.
“In a passage of Magna Charta, it was ordained that twenty-five barons should be nominated to see that the terms of the charter were not infringed; and, if it was found that his Majesty’s Ministers were guilty of such infringement, then four barons were to call upon them for redress. If this were not granted, then the four barons were to return to their brethren, by whom the people were to be called together to take up arms, and assert their rights. Such an act was not considered in old times as an act of treason towards the king, however hostile it might be towards his ministers. But this does not apply to me.
“I had no intention of joining in any scheme whatever, either to put down my King, or to murder his Ministers. I was entrapped by Goldworthy and Edwards, in order for some private purposes of their own, that they might have my life sworn away.
“I have no objection to tender my life in the service of my country; but let me at least, for the sake of my children, save my character from the disgrace of dying a traitor. For my children only do I feel, and when I think of them I am deprived of utterance—I can say no more.”
James Ingswas next asked what he had to say, why he should not receive judgment to die? He replied—
“I have very little to say. My abilities will not allow me to speak. If Mr. Edwards had not got acquainted with me I should not be here. He came to me, unfortunately when I had no business, nor no means of getting a livelihood for my family. I entered into the conspiracy only through him; and it was only necessity, and the want of the means to support my wife and family that brought me here.
“It is only through Edwards that I shall lose my life. I do not mind dying, if you will let that man come forward, and die with me on the scaffold. It was through him that I was going to do that which, I must allow, was of a most disgraceful and inhuman nature.
“On the other hand, his Majesty’s Ministers conspire together, and impose laws to starve me and my family and fellow-countrymen; and if I was going to assassinate these Ministers, I do not see that it is so bad as starvation, in my opinion, my Lord.
“There is another thing, my Lord. A meeting was called at Manchester, under the protection of the law of England, for which our forefathers died, and which King John signed in the open air. This meeting was called under the protection of that law, for the people to petition parliament to give them their rights; but, previous to the business of the meeting, the Manchester yeomanry rode in among them, and cut down men, women, and children, in a manner that was a disgrace to the very name of Englishmen. These yeomen had their swords ground beforehand; and I had a sword ground also: but I do not see any harm in that.
“I shall suffer, no doubt; but I hope my children will live to see justice done to their bleeding country. I would rather die like a man than live like a slave. I am sorry I have not the power, gentlemen, to say more; I shall, therefore, withdraw.”
John Thomas Bruntwas next called upon. He came forward in a quick and rather hurried manner; and, in answer to the usual interrogatory, addressed himself to the Court in a firm and confident tone.
He said, he “had intended to have written the observations which he should make, but he had not had the benefit of ink and paper. He would repeatwhat he had before stated to the Jury on his trial, which had been so ably knocked down by the Solicitor-General, whose sophisticated eloquence would make even crime a virtue. He then proceeded to recapitulate the circumstances already stated by him in his defence. He protested against the verdict; not that he valued his life. No man valued it less when it was to be sacrificed in liberty’s cause.
“Looking around him in this Court, and seeing the sword of justice and the inscriptions which were placed on the walls above the Learned Judges, he could only say, that he felt his blood boil in his veins when he thought how justice was perverted, and her sacred name prostituted to the basest and vilest purposes. He was a man of his word, and not a shuttlecock, as some might suppose. If he pledged himself once to destroy a tyrant, he would do it.
“Edwards, that infamous villain, whom the Solicitor-General had not dared to bring forward, had preyed on his credulity; and Adams had betrayed him. Where was the benefit which would result to Christianity from the able defence made of it by the Solicitor-General? What was Christianity? Why, did its doctrines promulgate so horrid an idea, as that supposing a man to have been a Deist, and all at once to have been converted by seeing the halter staring him in the face, he would, therefore, be strengthened by Almighty God to become a villain and a perjured betrayer of his associates?
“That this was the case with Adams was evident from his own confession. Was this, then, Christianity? If it was, he prayed God he might die without it; for very different, indeed, were the ideas he had formed of religion.”
The prisoner then proceeded to attack the character of the witness, Hale, his apprentice; in which, however, he was interrupted by the LordChief Justice, who said, he would not allow persons and witnesses not before the Court to be vilified.
Bruntproceeded—“He had antipathy against none but the enemies of his country. He was a friend to the lower orders, and, as an honest man, had a fellow-feeling for his countrymen, who were starving through the conduct of Ministers. Lord Castlereagh and Lord Sidmouth had an antipathy against the people; and if he did conspire to murder them, was that high treason? He readily acknowledged that he had agreed to assassinate Ministers; but he denied having ever conspired to dethrone or injure the Monarch. But, if resisting the Civil Power, or opposing wicked Ministers, was treason, then he confessed he was guilty. He was no traitor to his country—he was no traitor to his King; but he was an enemy to a boroughmongering faction, which equally enslaved both the King and the people.
“The happiness, the glory, and the safety of the King, depended on his being free as well as his people; but this was not the case now. A faction ruled both King and people with lawless sway. He had, by his industry, been able to earn about three or four pounds a week; and, while this was the case, he never meddled with politics: but, when he found his income reduced to ten shillings a week, he began to look about him, and to ask to what could that be owing? And what did he find? Why, men in power, who met to deliberate how they might starve and plunder the country. He looked on the Manchester transactions as most dreadful, and thought that nothing was too severe for men, who had not only caused, but even applauded, the dreadful scenes which occurred there.
“With pleasure would he die as a martyr in liberty’s cause for the good of his country, and, to have been avenged on her tyrants would havegiven him pleasure to have died on the spot. He was not a traitor, nor a friend of a traitor, and it was only a villain who could call him so. While a nerve of his body could move, that nerve should and would be exerted against the enemies of the people.
“He had joined the conspiracy for the public good. He was not the man who would have stopped. O, no; he would have gone through with it to the very bottom, or else have perished in the attempt. Their death was necessary for the public good. They might quarter his body—they might inflict on him every species of torture; but they could not shake his resolution, nor subdue his spirit. He would mount the scaffold with the same firm intrepidity he now evinced, and, if his life was called for, if his wife was to be made a widow and his child an orphan, in this mighty cause he would cheerfully sacrifice it!”
In the course of this daring address, the wretched man had worked himself up to a degree of passion bordering on rage. A feeling of horror was visible in the face of all within his hearing, whilst the unhappy man was coldly explaining and justifying his murderous purposes.
The same question was put to each of the remaining prisoners, who severally returned answers to the following effect:
Richard Tiddsaid, he had been convicted so late last night, that he had no time to prepare a written address, as he could have wished. He denied that the evidence against him was true, with the exception of that of the gentleman he saw on the bench (Captain Fitzclarence); and, as for shooting him, why he would as soon have thought of shooting his own father.
James Wilsondeclared that he had been drawn into the plot by one of the witnesses (Adams) who appeared against him.
John Harrison, on being called upon, said My Lord, they were all false witnesses.
Richard Bradburn.—The evidence of Adams was false.
John Shaw Strange.—I have only this much to say, my Lords, that the evidence of Adams and Hale was false, and that they are perjured villains.
James Gilchristwas much affected, and some time elapsed before he could speak. He said—
“My Lords, what I say, I shall say and think as in the presence of my God. I knew nothing of the business until four o’clock on the day on which it took place. I then had not tasted a morsel of food the whole day. [Here the prisoner burst into tears.] I then went to a place where a person appointed to meet me at six o’clock, where I saw four or five men, not one of whom I knew, except Cooper; of him I borrowed a halfpenny, to buy a bit of bread. I appeal to God who now hears me, (casting up his eyes), and knows that this is true.
“I went into the room at Cato-street, where I found a number of men eating bread and cheese, which they cut with a sword. I cut some for myself. Seeing so many men and arms, I was anxious to get away, but Adams stopped me, and brandishing a sword, said, ‘If any man attempts to go from here, I will run him through.’ An officer then came in, and I surrendered without opposition.
“This was all I knew of the business, and yet I stand here convicted of high treason. I have served my King and country faithfully for twelve years, and this is my recompense, this is my recompense, O God!” [Here the prisoner again burst into tears, and could proceed no further.]
Charles Coopersaid, My Lords, there is no evidence to convict me of high treason.
Gilchristcame again to the bar, and said, My Lords, I have no objection to die; I would willingly resign my life to save that of another. (It was not known to whom he alluded). He again retired from the bar in tears as before, and continued so till the whole of the prisoners were removed from Court.
Proclamation was now made by the Crier that the Judge was going to proceed to pass sentence on the prisoners, and enjoining strict silence in the Court.
The Lord Chief-JusticeAbbott, having put on that solemn part of the judicial insignia, the black velvet cap, proceeded to his awful duty, and thus addressed the prisoners:—
“You, Arthur Thistlewood, James Ings, John Thomas Brunt, William Davidson, and Richard Tidd, have been severally tried and convicted of High Treason, in Compassing and Levying War against his Majesty.
“You, James Wilson, John Harrison, Richard Bradburn, John Shaw Strange, James Gilchrist, and Charles Cooper, did originally pleadNot Guiltyto the same indictment; but, after the trial and conviction of the preceding prisoners, you desired to withdraw your plea, and pleadGuilty. You have cast yourselves on the mercy of your sovereign; and if any of you have your lives spared, which I trust will be the case with some of you, I hope you will bear in mind that you owe it to the benignity and mercy of your sovereign, and to some of those public officers whom you had devoted to a cruel and sudden death.”
His Lordship then proceeded with his address. “Thistlewood,” he observed, “had complained that the Court had refused to receive the testimony of some witnesses, after the evidence had closed on both sides. But he should recollect that histrial was conducted according to the law, as it had been administered in this country for ages. The witnesses whom he proposed to call were for the purpose of impugning the testimony of a man of the name of Dwyer, and no other. His learned counsel had previously called witnesses to the same effect. It could not be allowed to him, according to the ordinary course of proceeding, to do more. Indeed, even if he had been allowed so to do, it could have been productive of no advantage, because his case did not depend upon the evidence of that witness alone. This observation was confirmed by the fact, that in subsequent cases, where the evidence of Dwyer was altogether omitted, a similar verdict of guilty was returned.
“Some of them had thought fit to say much of the character of a person who had not appeared as a witness upon this occasion. The Court could proceed only upon the evidence which was brought before it. Of the person, therefore, to whom they alluded, or of the practices of which he had been guilty, they could have no knowledge. Upon the testimony, however, which had been adduced against them, there was abundantly sufficient to induce a Jury of their country to come to a conclusion, that the whole of them had taken an active part in the crimes imputed in the indictment.
“From all that had appeared in the course of these trials, as well as from much of that which they had then heard, it was plain to see, that they did not embark in their wicked designs until they had first suffered their minds to be corrupted and inflamed by those seditious and irreligious publications, with which, unhappily for this country, the press had but too long teemed. He did not make these remarks to aggravate their guilt, or to enhance the sufferings of persons in their situation. He made them asa warning to all who might hear of their unfortunate fate, that they might benefit by their example, and avoid those dangerous instruments of sedition, by which their hearts and minds were inflamed, and by which they were drawn from every feeling of morality, from every sense of obligation towards their Creator, and of justice towards society.
“The treason of which they were charged, and found guilty, was that of compassing and imagining to levy war against his majesty, for the purpose of inducing him to change his measures and Ministers; the first step towards effecting which was to have been the assassination of Ministers themselves. They had endeavoured now to complain of the testimony of those persons who had been examined as witnesses on the part of the prosecution. Some of them were accomplices in their guilt.
“It had here happened, as it had upon other occasions, that the principal instruments in the hands of justice were partners in their wickedness: he trusted that circumstance would have its due weight and consideration with all those, who became acquainted with their situation, and with the circumstances of their trial. He hoped that, for the sake of their own personal safety, if they could not be restrained by any other consideration, they would abstain from evil communications and from evil connexions, such as had brought the prisoners to the unhappy position in which they stood.
“Some of them had avowed their intention to have taken away the lives, and to have steeped their hands in the blood of fourteen persons, to many of them unknown. It was without a precedent to see Englishmen laying aside their national character, and contriving and agreeing on the assassination, in cold blood, of fourteen individuals, who had never offended any of them.This was a crime which hitherto was a stranger to our country, and he trusted it would, after the melancholy example of the prisoners, be unknown amongst us.
“It now,” he said, “only remained for him to pass upon them the awful sentence of the law; but before he did so, he exhorted them, he implored them, to employ the time yet left to them in this life in endeavouring, by prayer, to obtain mercy from that Almighty Power before whom they would shortly appear. The mercy of heaven might be obtained by all those who would unfeignedly, and with humility, express contrition for their offences, and seek that mercy through the merits of their blessed Redeemer.”
This awful appeal, delivered by the judge in the most impressive manner, was wholly lost on Thistlewood, who, with apparent careless indifference, pulled out his snuff-box, some of the contents of which he took, casting his eyes round the court, as if he were entering a theatre. His indifference was the more conspicuous when contrasted with the solemn manner in which the Lord Chief-Justice addressed the prisoners.
His Lordship continued.
“Whether the prisoners would profit by the advice which he thus sincerely gave them he could not say, but he once again begged that they might not allow themselves to be led away by such feelings and opinions as seemed hitherto to have influenced them.
“He had now to pronounce upon them the sentence of the law, which was—
“That you, and each of you, be taken from hence to the gaol from whence you came, and from thence that you be drawn upon a hurdle to a place of execution, and be there hanged by the neck until you be dead; and that afterwards your heads shall be severed from your bodies, and your bodies be divided into four quarters,to be disposed of as his majesty shall think fit. And may God of his infinite goodness have mercy upon your souls!”
The crier said aloud, “Amen!” in which he was joined by many in the Court, who were deeply affected by his Lordship’s address.
The prisoners were then removed from the bar; some of them, particularly Thistlewood, Brunt, and Davidson, appearing to be wholly unconcerned at the awful sentence which had been passed upon them, and the whole of them evincing great firmness and resignation.
Tidd complained of the immense weight of his irons, when the Lord Chief Justice, with that humanity and feeling which had characterized his conduct throughout the whole of this arduous and painful business, said he was sure the gaoler would grant the prisoner every indulgence consistent with his safety.
AND
CONDUCT OF THE PRISONERS.
The public anxiety had been, as we have already stated, more than usually excited during the trials of the conspirators, and much curiosity was, of course, felt as what would be the final result, and on what particular day the unhappy, deluded wretches, would suffer the last dreadful sentence of the law. The public suspense was, however, terminated on Saturday, the day after the passing sentence of death, when his Majesty held a Privy Council, at which Newman Knowles, Esq., the Common-Serjeant of London, (in the absence of the Recorder through indisposition,) was admitted into the presence of the King, to make a Report of the persons convicted of the crime of High Treason before the Special Commissioners, in which the Learned Serjeant was assisted by the Judges present, who tried the prisoners. The Council, at which his Majesty was present, assembled at two o’clock, and continued in deliberation till near four; and, after the Report had been received, the Council proceeded to deliberate upon the fate of the prisoners, and upon the period when it might be proper the execution should take place.
It was at length determined, with a view to render the example more imposing, and to mark the sense which was entertained of the atrocious offence of which the wretched culprits were found guilty, to order them for execution on the following Monday; and thatThistlewood,Brunt,Ings,Davidson, andTidd, should be the sufferers. But that part of the sentence which directed that their bodies should be quartered was remitted.
The sentence of death onHarrison,Wilson,Cooper,Strange, andBradburn, was commuted to transportation for life, in conformity with the implied pledge which they received when they agreed to pleadGuiltyto the indictments; andGilchristwas respited, without mention of the commutation of punishment.
Mr. Brown, the Governor of Newgate, received the warrant at seven o’clock in the evening, and, accompanied by the Under-Sheriff, immediately went to the condemned room, in which were sitting those who were ordered for execution, attended by eight officers.
When he entered, they rose in the most respectful manner. He held in his hand the Recorder’s warrant, of the contents of which they appeared conscious. A dead silence prevailed; but there was not the slightest agitation observable in the countenances or manner of any one of the prisoners.
Mr. Brown addressed them in the following words:—“It is my painful duty to communicate to you, that I hold the Recorder’s warrant for the execution of you, Thistlewood, Ings, Brunt, Davidson, and Tidd, on Monday morning. I hope and trust that the short time you have to remain in this world will be employed by you in making preparation for that to which you are going.”
Thistlewood immediately, and in the calmest manner, said—“The sooner we go, Sir, the better. Our wish is to die as soon as possible.” The others expressed the same sentiments.
Mr. Brown.—“If any of you wish to have the assistance of a clergyman of any persuasion, during your preparation, let me know it, and Ishall apply to the authority by which I am convinced you will not be refused.”
Not a word was uttered by any one of the prisoners.
Mr. Brown then said, “Let me entreat you with effect to give up your thoughts to the contemplation of the change which you are about to undergo. Your time in this life is very short; devote it to repentance, and prayer to that Being who will not desert you at the moment of fatal separation.”
The prisoners did not speak, nor make any sign.
Mr. Brown then left the room, and the miserable men turned to the conversation in which they had been engaged before he entered, without any reference to the tidings they had just heard.
Upon going to the condemned room where the six conspirators who pleaded guilty were confined, Mr. Brown observed a very striking contrast to the scene which he had just quitted, as far as regarded Strange, Bradburn, Cooper, and Gilchrist.
He entered with the Recorder’s warrant in his hand, which contained cheering intelligence to them. Strange, Bradburn, Cooper, and Gilchrist, seemed struck with consternation; but Harrison and Wilson shewed no symptoms of agitation, but appeared rather to despise than to pity the deplorable condition of their companions, and uttered not a word expressive of hope or fear.
Mr. Brown then informed them, that mercy had been extended to them, and that their lives were spared.
Strange, Cooper, Bradburn, and Gilchrist, immediately fell on their knees, and, after a pause, gave utterance to incoherent and unintelligible expressions of gratitude. Harrison and Wilson still remaining silent, and apparently unmoved.
Mr. Brown said, “I have now to show you thedark side of the picture. Your unfortunate miserable companions in crime who were tried, are ordered for execution on Monday morning; and you, Harrison, Wilson, Cooper, Strange, and Bradburn, are transported for life.”
Wilson, who before had appeared perfectly callous, now exclaimed, “Ah! our poor friends; I am indeed sorry for them.” Harrison said nothing; the others were too much occupied with the joy of their own escape to bestow a thought upon those who were to forfeit their lives.
Mr. Brown said, “There is one of the most remarkable circumstances attending your cases that ever took place upon any occasion; and, if you have any feeling, it must make a deep and indelible impression upon you. Those very persons against whose lives your hands were about to be raised, are the men by whose intercession your lives have been saved.”
After Mr. Brown had performed so much of his painful task, he proceeded to another step, which excited in the breast of some of the prisoners a strong feeling of irritation, namely, to place them in separate condemned cells.
They had entertained a hope that they would be permitted to spend the last few hours of their life together, mutually to cheer each other by their example, and to obtain those consolations which the society of friends in so melancholy a situation must necessarily produce. Mr. Brown, however, had received his instructions, and was bound to attend to them, although he might himself have been anxious to grant them every indulgence consistent with their safety.
The five unhappy men, whose hours were now numbered, were each removed to the place appointed, and were still accompanied by two of the under turnkeys.
The reason assigned for this arrangement, was the existence of a spirit of hardihood among theunfortunate men, which, while they remained together, seemed but to increase.
In the early part of Saturday, they had been visited by the Reverend Mr. Cotton (the Ordinary of Newgate), and exhorted by him to have recourse to those prayers which had been so strongly and humanely recommended by the Lord Chief Justice. They were, however, deaf to his entreaties, and conjointly told him, that however much they respected his motives, still that their minds were made up on religious subjects; they were Deists, and therefore not inclined to join in that form of appeal to Heaven, which, in the exercise of his sacred functions, he thought it necessary to suggest. Mr. Cotton finding that his arguments were productive of no good effect, left them with regret.
He repeated his visits during the afternoon, but with as little success, and then determined not to renew his solicitations for some hours, which would allow time for quiet reflection, concluding that while their minds were in a state of irritation, he was still less likely to open their hearts to that contrite feeling, from which he could alone hope to bring them to a true sense of their situation.
On Sunday morning he re-commenced his pious labours, and on entering their cells, repeated his former arguments; but they again repeated their disbelief in the divinity of Christ, and refused through his mediation to seek pardon of their offended Maker.
Davidson alone listened with attention, and he at length begged Mr. Cotton to procure him a Wesleyan minister. His wish was communicated to Mr. Brown, who, in the course of the morning attended at Whitehall, and reported the circumstance. The Wesleyan minister selected by Davidson, was a person of the name of Rennett, who, it seems, had been a journeymantailor, and had sometimes preached among the Wesleyans; Davidson’s selection of him on this occasion, was founded on some slight knowledge of him. As this man, however, was in a situation in life not well adapted to reveal the holy tenets of salvation to a dying man, it was thought prudent to decline introducing him to the prisoner.
In the course of Sunday, a most decided change took place in Davidson’s manner and conduct, and having been induced to abandon his wish of receiving spiritual comfort from the Wesleyan minister, it was suggested, that if he desired it, he should have a regular clergyman of any persuasion he might think fit. On hearing this proposition again repeated to him, the rays of Christianity, burst, as it were, through his dungeon’s gloom, and he immediately requested the spiritual consolation of the Reverend Mr. Cotton. That gentleman visited him immediately, and continued to attend him, and to administer all the consolation in his power to the wretched man, up to the last moment of his life. The unhappy Davidson also begged to be favoured with pen, ink, and paper, as he was anxious to write to Lord Harrowby, towards whom he continued to express the warmest respect. This request was granted, and he wrote a letter of some length, (see p. 410) which he sealed, and which was afterwards given to Mr. Under-Sheriff Turner, to be delivered.
On Sunday afternoon, the heart-rending scene of introducing the families of the wretched men to take a last farewell, was gone through.
Thistlewood’s interview with his wife and son was truly affecting; and the scenes exhibited in the other cells were of the most agonizing description. The unfortunate children, capable of understanding the situation of their unhappy parents, were convulsed with sorrow. The strongest feelings of commiseration were excited in theminds of those whose painful duty it was to be present.
Brunt formed a solitary exception to this remark. His composure on taking leave of his wife was of the most extraordinary description: he expressed himself in the most unmoved manner, and declared that the day of his execution would be to him the happiest of his life.
The solemn service of the condemned sermon, usually preached in the chapel at Newgate, to repentant criminals, who are about to expiate their crimes with their blood, was on this occasion, reluctantly dispensed with. The miserable malefactors had so decidedly pronounced themselves Deists, and (with the exception of Davidson, and even he, until Sunday, had fully concurred with them) had evinced in all parts of their conduct so awful a disregard of the precepts of Christianity and disbelief in its divine origin, as to excite an apprehension that their blasphemous principles would manifest themselves in some dreadful act of infidelity during divine service; it was therefore thought more prudent to omit the ceremony altogether, than to subject the administration of our holy religion to public insult by avowed and hardened infidels; and this determination was perfectly agreeable to the miserable beings themselves, who had boasted of being impenetrable to repentance, and determined to end the brief remnant of their days in the same horrid anti-christian principles which they had throughout professed.
In the course of Sunday, Alderman Wood called twice upon Mr. Brown, and requested to be introduced to the prisoners. Mr. Brown said he would willingly have complied with the worthy Alderman’s request, but his instructions were, not to permit any person to have intercourse with the unhappy men, save their families, unless under the sanction of an order from the Privy Council.
Mr. Alderman Wood then begged that he would carry to the prisoners three written questions, and obtain the answers; but this also Mr. Brown refused, upon the principle of the strict performance of his duty.
During nearly the whole of Sunday night, the deluded malefactors, who were attended by the city constables, slept soundly, and were only awakened by the unbarring of their cell doors, to admit the Reverend Ordinary. He found them in their separate cells, and went to each, urging every pious argument to reclaim them to the paths of Christianity.
On Thistlewood, Tidd, Ings, and Brunt, however, his arguments were unavailing; but on Davidson his endeavours were crowned with success, and in the most fervent manner this unfortunate man joined in prayer with Mr. Cotton for mercy at the hands of his Redeemer.
The cells in which these delinquents were confined, though separated by strong walls of stone, were not sufficiently detached to prevent them from speaking to each other, and Ings, speaking, during the night, of the approaching awful exhibition they were to make, remarked to one of his companions, with savage disappointment, “that there would be plenty of persons present; but d—n the ——, they had no pluck.” Indeed, it seemed impossible to divert the mind of this wretched man from the original object by which he had been actuated; he often made declarations of the most terrific nature, and, amongst others, “he wished that his body might be conveyed to the King, and that his Majesty, or his cooks, might make turtle-soup of it!”
At five o’clock on Monday morning, Mr. Cotton went again to the gaol, and proceeded to the condemned cells with the hallowed elements of the sacrament, which was administered to and received by Davidson with the utmost devotion.
The Reverend Gentleman offered the same means of redemption to the other culprits, who, however, were immutable in their infidelity.
Brunt partook of the wine offered to him, but only for the purpose of drinking the King’s health, which he appeared to do cordially. Davidson also drank the King’s health, and joined fervently in the prayer for him and the Royal Family, which is in the established Church Service.
At six o’clock breakfast was ordered for the wretched men, and all but Davidson expressed a desire that they might be allowed to breakfast together. It was known, however, that they wished to arrange and mature what each should say upon the scaffold, and therefore Mr. Brown most prudently refrained from complying with this request.
While these occurrences were taking place within the gaol, the exhibition without was not destitute of interest; and the arrangements making among the persons whose official duties connected them with the final execution of the law, were of the highest importance.
The Sunday papers had announced the period fixed for the execution, and as this was accompanied by a speculation that a scaffold was to be erected on the top of the prison, upon which the ignominious sentence was to be performed, thousands of persons flocked towards the Old Bailey, and continued to do so during the day, assembling in groups for information, and not unfrequently indulging in language disgraceful to themselves, and alarming to those who felt anxious for the peace of the metropolis. Among these persons were many who had long been known as the constant attendants at those factious meetings, the repetitions of which have been productive of so much mischief.
On Saturday evening, Mr. Sheriff Rothwelland Mr. Under-Sheriff Turner, had waited on Lord Sidmouth to arrange the mode in which the execution should take place. The plan at first proposed of erecting a scaffold on the top of the prison at the end near Newgate-street, was then considered and abandoned, Lord Sidmouth being of opinion that there was no necessity for departing from the form customary on like occasions; and, on the suggestion of Sheriff Rothwell, it was further resolved to dispense with that part of the sentence which directed that the culprits should be drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution, in consideration of the great inconvenience that might arise in conveying them along the streets in the manner which had been adopted on former occasions, namely, from the court-yard in front of the Sessions-house to the scaffold.
On the return of Mr. Sheriff Rothwell and Mr. Under-Sheriff Turner, from the office of the Secretary of State, with their final instructions, they directed Mr. Montague, one of the surveyors of public buildings in the city, to make the necessary arrangements for resisting the pressure of the crowd which was anticipated, and for enlarging the ordinary scaffold to such a size as would admit of the performance of the more awful part of the ceremony—that of decapitating the criminals.
To effect these works, a great number of men were suddenly called into requisition, and during the whole of Sunday they were actively engaged.
The addition to the scaffold was made in the Court-yard in front of the Sessions-house, and the loud strokes of the carpenters’ hammers soon attracted the attention of the passengers, hundreds of whom mounted upon the wall to view what was going forward. The confusion created at this spot induced Mr. Montague to send to theLord Mayor for the aid of some constables, and in a short time the City Marshal, arrived at the head of several officers. The crowd was immediately removed from the wall, and order was restored.
Curiosity was next directed to the workmen at the ends of the various avenues leading to the Old Bailey, across which strong posts and rails were erected in such a manner as to prevent the distant crowd from throwing the whole of their weight on those in front, and thereby preventing that confusion and danger which otherwise would have been incurred, and which was productive of such melancholy consequences at the execution of Holloway and Haggerty, for the murder of Mr. Steel[2].
There were double rows of rails across the top of the Old Bailey, across Newgate-street, Giltspur-street, Skinner-street, Fleet-lane, and in fact at the mouth of every approach to the prison.
In the course of Sunday morning Mr. Sheriff Rothwell and Mr. Under-Sheriff Turner held a consultation with the Lord Mayor, as to the necessity of applying to the Secretary of State for the Home Department, to direct the attendance of a military force, not alone in the prison, but in its immediate vicinity.
The result of their deliberations was, that such an application was highly proper; and accordingly Mr. Turner was despatched to Whitehall, with a letter to Lord Sidmouth, intimating the wish of the Lord Mayor. In consequence of this application, in the course of the afternoon one hundred men were ordered to proceed to the gaol of Newgate, and a detachment of fifty was quartered in Giltspur-street Compter.
Other detachments were on duty at a short distance from the prison. In fact, every possible precaution was adopted to prevent disturbance or disorder.
As the evening advanced, the throng in front of the prison increased, and at eight o’clock the pressure was so great, that it required the utmost exertions of the constables on duty to prevent the interruption of the workmen. Thousands of all ranks and ages congregated in front of the gaol.
The scaffold had been brought forth from the Court-yard, and the carpenters were busily employed in erecting the additional platform, which was ten feet square, and constructed with great solidity. They continued their operations by torch-light, which seemed as it were but to make “darkness visible,” and considerably enhanced the solemnity of the scene.
Such was the anxiety of some to witness the execution, that they literally determined to remain in the neighbourhood all night, and thousands sacrificed their natural rest to the gratification of their curiosity.
The windows of the houses in the Old Bailey and the streets adjacent, commanding a view of the scaffold were let out at exorbitant prices. The sums demanded for a view from the windows were from ten shillings to two guineas, but even at these prices there was a superabundance of applicants.
Very early on Monday morning, the bar, which had previously been bounded but by one rank of spectators, was enclosed by a second, and the assembling populace soon began to assume the appearance of a crowd. They stood in immense masses by the time the clock struck five.
An idea partially prevailed, that the area immediately without the rail which encompassed the scaffold, where on ordinary occasions spectators are allowed to stand, would be cleared out when the constables arrived, and this induced many to take their stations beyond the first barrier. Thisapprehension turned out to be well-founded; and, at a quarter past five, those who had been for hours clinging to the inner rail were obliged reluctantly to abandon the situations in which they had proposed to witness the execution. No exceptions were made; and none but officers, and those engaged to assist in the preparations, were suffered to remain. Compelled to retire from the immediate vicinity of the scaffold, they attempted to take up a position beyond the first rail, but they were again disappointed, and the officers still pressed on them till they had retreated beyond the second bar, which was placed at the very extremity of the Old Bailey, on a line with Newgate-street.
The lamp-iron which is fixed in the wall of the prison between the corner of the street and the Debtor’s door had been climbed by three persons, and that at the corner was taken possession of in the same way. Both were now relieved from the load which they had sustained for hours. The pump, and the lamps above it, were crowded to an extraordinary degree. The situation appeared one of danger, but those who had taken the trouble to ascend it were suffered to remain.
When the crowd had passed the second bar (that which crossed the road from the end of Newgate-street), it was immediately lined with constables. In the opposite direction, a similar course was taken, and a bar erected a little below the Felons’ door precluded on that side any closer approach.
An extensive area was thus taken from the ground which the populace on ordinary occasions are suffered to occupy. The precautions adopted on this occasion greatly surpassed those resorted to on that of Bellingham’s execution; but placards like those then addressed to the populace, warning them of the danger of pressing forward too eagerly, from the more efficient measures taken to guardagainst the pressure of the crowd, were thought unnecessary.
Between five and six o’clock a great quantity of sawdust was brought out and deposited beneath the scaffold on which the decollations were to be performed. It was shortly afterwards transferred to the top of it, and at the same time black cloth was brought, and the scaffold erected in the rear of the drop was completely covered with it. The posts which sustained the chains above it received the same sable attire; and while these preparations were in progress, every avenue leading into the Old Bailey was carefully secured by strong wooden rails fixed across, and guarded by constables.
At twenty minutes before six, a party of the Foot Guards (sixty-one in number) came out of the prison by the felons’-door; they passed down Brown’s-yard, opposite Newgate, where they were ordered to remain till their services should be required. At the same time, a detachment moved down Newgate-street towards the City, to secure the peace of the metropolis, should it be in any manner threatened.
Before six o’clock, the City-Marshals arrived; and Mr. Sheriff Rothwell made his appearance at the same moment. He was not accompanied by his colleague, the Junior Sheriff. He carefully inspected the preparations for the awful business of the morning. The crowd, before repressed beyond the felons’-door, were about this time compelled to move still lower down towards Ludgate-hill.
Mr. Alderman Wood also arrived on the spot very early in the morning; and, on first going into Mr. Brown’s office, expressed considerable indignation at his not being suffered to commune with the convicts when he called at Newgate on Sunday; stating that the gaol was no longer under the direction of the city, but under that ofLord Sidmouth, orders having been issued from the Secretary of State’s office, to suffer no one to see these convicts, unless by a properly authenticated order.
At six o’clock the constables assembled in immense numbers, and the firemen from the different insurance-offices were among them.
Shortly after six, the City-Marshal called over the names of the officers in attendance from the different City wards. This done, they were formed into several parties, and its proper station was assigned to each.
At this time the Lord-Mayor attended, and, accompanied by the City-Marshal superintended the whole of the arrangements.
During the time occupied by the preparations above described, the conduct of the countless thousands assembled on this awfully interesting occasion was peaceable in the extreme. Curiosity seemed powerfully excited; but no political feeling was manifested by any part of the crowd, and they awaited the termination of the dreadful scene in silence. Sometimes a low murmur ran through the expecting multitude, as some new object connected with the proceedings was pressed on their attention; but it was a murmur of surprise or of interest, which never took the tone of clamorous disapprobation.
For a rescue—if it was ever contemplated—all hopes of accomplishing it must have been annihilated by the precautions we have enumerated. The powerful force assembled on the spot must have convinced the most frantic Radicals that all resistance was vain, and escape on failure impossible.
It was generally reported that the execution would take place an hour before the usual time of execution. At a quarter before seven, the persons accommodated at the top of the prison were observed to retire from the front of the building.This, in consequence of the rumour just alluded to, caused it to be generally surmised that the prisoners were about to be led out immediately. The rumour, however, proved to be unfounded.
At seven o’clock, the crowd which was collected about the prison, in every avenue leading to it, or commanding the most distant glimpse of its walls, was beyond all calculation; but still there was not the least appearance of disorder. In fact, such were the formidable preparations to preserve the peace, that no possible alarm could exist. In the event of a riot, however, the Lord Mayor was prepared with large boards on poles, ready to be used, should it become necessary to read the Riot Act. They were brought within the rail which enclosed the gallows; and bills were immediately nailed to them, containing, in large characters, the following words:
THE RIOT-ACT HAS BEEN READ.DISPERSE IMMEDIATELY.
These were then laid down on each side of the debtors-door. Of course they were not exhibited to the populace, being only prepared to be used in case of necessity, that, if unhappily it should become the duty of the civil authorities to have recourse to so strong a measure, it might be impossible for the multitude to be ignorant of the peril to which they would be exposed by neglecting to yield prompt obedience to the mandate.
A party of the Life Guards was stationed towards the lower end of the Old-Bailey, and a small detachment appeared at the end next St. Sepulchre’s Church. On a sudden a loud noise attracted the attention of every one; this was caused by the awkward situation in which a person had placed himself, who, having got within the second bar, had clambered up against one of the houses, where the constables, who felt it theirduty to remove him, could not get at him. He was at length pulled down by the heels, amidst the boisterous laughter of the crowd, who in this manifested all the thoughtless levity of a common mob—a levity not unlike that described by the unfortunate Hackman to have preceded the execution of Dr. Dodd[3].
Several persons of distinction—among others some military officers of rank—arrived in the course of the morning, and Mr. Brown, the gaoler, afforded them accommodation in his house. They took their places at the drawing-room windows, and were thus enabled to command an excellent view of the whole melancholy scene.
Shortly after seven o’clock, the executioner made his appearance on the drop, and placed the steps by which he was to ascend to tie the sufferers to the fatal beam. The saw-dust, which had been previously collected in two small heaps on the second scaffold, was now spread over the boards.
The coffins were then brought out, and placed on the saw-dust, the foot of each being put so as nearly to touch the platform, from which those who were to fill them were to be launched into eternity. They had no lids on them. The coffin of Thistlewood was first lifted out. The third coffin brought out appeared longer than the others, and was supposed to be intended for Davidson, who was the tallest man; but this conjecture proved erroneous.
The persons employed to bring the coffins swept out the large one, and then proceeded to throw saw-dust into them, that the blood of the sufferers might not find its way through.
The block was now brought up, and placed at the head of the first coffin. Most of the spectators were surprised at the shape of the block, as,instead of presenting a flat surface, it was slanted off, so that the top of it was quite sharp.
The awful moment was now rapidly approaching when the ill-fated men were to be removed to another world. Each of them conversed freely with the officers who had them in charge, and severally declared that moment to be the happiest of their lives.
Davidson alone continued to pray fervently to the moment of his removal; but the others seemed perfectly unmoved by their approaching fate.
The six prisoners who had received the royal clemency, had been previously removed to another part of the prison, under the care and superintendence of a turnkey.
The four before-mentioned,viz.Strange, Cooper, Bradburn, and Gilchrist, continued to express themselves in the most grateful and enthusiastic terms, that their lives had been saved through the kind and benevolent interposition of those illustrious personages whose lives were intended to fall sacrifices to their diabolical project; but Wilson and Harrison persisted in the most obstinate indifference to the mercy which had been so graciously extended towards them. During the night and morning, they became excessively uneasy; and, while they wept for the ignominious fate of their companions, they expressed a wish that they might have been participators in its consequences, horrible as they were.
About half-past seven o’clock, the Sheriffs, Under-Sheriffs, several young noblemen, and a number of gentlemen, walked in the procession (as is usual) through the various passages in Newgate, till they arrived at the door of the condemned cells, which comes into the press-yard. The unhappy criminals, since receiving sentence of death, had been confined in the lower ward of the prison assigned to capital convicts.
Thistlewood came out of the condemned cellfirst; he bowed to the Sheriffs and gentlemen present; he looked very pale, he cast up his eyes, and said, “It appears fine.” He displayed uncommon firmness, and held out his hands for the assistant executioner to tie them. He observed to the persons near him, that he never felt in better spirits in the course of his life. He was attired in the same apparel that he wore during his trial. The composure he exhibited was striking; but there was nothing like bravado or carelessness. He now advanced to the block to have his irons knocked off; and, while the turnkey was in the act,
Mr. Alderman Wood advanced to Thistlewood, and said, “Thistlewood, I wish you to give me an answer to two or three questions.”
Mr. Sheriff Rothwell—“Mr. Alderman, I must interfere. I am sure you have had quite experience enough of magisterial duties to know, that on a solemn occasion of this kind, you ought not to interfere with a prisoner on the point of death.”
Mr. Alderman Wood—“You prevented me, Mr. Sheriff, from entering Newgate yesterday, to obtain the information I am now about to seek. You have no authority to prevent me from now having it, as the gaol is this day under the superintendence of Lord Sidmouth; and I must persist in obtaining answers to my questions, if the prisoner chooses to give them.”
Mr. Sheriff Rothwell—“I cannot suffer you to disturb the quiet of this unhappy man’s mind at this awful moment, Mr. Alderman. I must, by virtue of my office, interfere, and prevent you from doing any thing which can have a tendency to distract the mind of a man in his awful situation—one who is indeed dead in law.”
Mr. Sheriff Parkins—“I must insist on the Worthy Alderman’s being permitted to put any question he pleases, unless the prisoner objects.I now authorise Alderman Wood to put whatever questions he wishes.”
Mr. Sheriff Rothwell—“Well, I must again object. I think it highly improper.”
Mr. Alderman Wood—“I have the questions here written down, and I’ll put them to you. Thistlewood, when did you first become acquainted with Edwards?”
Thistlewood—“About June last.”
Mr. Alderman Wood—“Where did you become acquainted with Edwards?”
Thistlewood—“At Preston’s.”
Mr. Alderman Wood, who did not appear to have heard the final letter, said, “At Preston, in Lancashire?”
Thistlewood—“No: at Preston’s, the shoemaker.”
Mr. Alderman Wood—“Did he ever give you any money?”
Thistlewood—“Yes, I had a little from him, a pound-note at a time.”
The Worthy Alderman wrote down the answers he had received to his questions.
Mr. Sheriff Rothwell appeared extremely angry at the course taken by the Worthy Alderman, while his colleague, Mr. Sheriff Parkins, expressed his warm approbation of it.
Tidd next made his appearance; he came out of the cell into the Press-yard with an air of assumed gaiety. He smiled during the time he was being pinioned, and continued quite cheerful during the time his irons were knocking off. The moment his legs were free from their burden, he ran towards Thistlewood, who had taken a seat on a bench (placed in the yard for the purpose), and said, “Well, Mr. Thistlewood, how do you do,” and they shook hands most heartily. Thistlewood said, “He was never better.” Tidd conversed in the most gay and cheerful mannerwith the turnkey, while he was driving the rivets out of his irons, and composedly assisted the man in taking them off.
Ings then came out of the cell, and danced as he came down the steps along the yard. He was dressed in his usual clothes as a butcher, a rough pepper-and-salt coloured worsted jacket, and a dirty cap. During the time his hands were being tied he became thoughtful, afterwards he seemed hurried and in great mental pain; but before his irons were knocked off he began to laugh and shout, and afterwards took a seat by the side of his fellow-sufferers.
Brunt was then brought into the Press-yard; he was perfectly composed, but looked round eagerly to see his wretched companions. He nodded to them, and then held out his hands to have them tied. He said nothing during the time he was being pinioned and having his irons taken off; but afterwards he addressed Thistlewood, Tidd, and Ings; he told them to keep up their spirits, and to one of his companions he said, “All will soon be well.”
Davidson was then brought out of his cell; he seemed a little affected at the sight of his companions, but soon regained that composure which he evinced during the trials. His lips moved; but he did not betray much anxiety till his irons were knocked off. He then looked wildly at the Rev. Mr. Cotton, and appeared to be in prayer, very devoutly; the others declared they were about to die in peace with all mankind, but that they had all made up their minds on religious matters, and were determined to die Deists.
Davidson took the sacrament in the morning at six o’clock, from Mr. Cotton, and prayed most fervently. He also joined the Rev. Gentleman in a prayer for the prosperity of his Majesty King George IV., though he avowed he had notthe same feeling for his ministers. A glass of wine was offered to Thistlewood, who politely refused. Tidd and Brunt took a glass each.
The irons of the culprits were then knocked off in succession. Thistlewood requested Mr. Cotton to speak to him, but for no other motive than to request he would observe his conduct had been manly, and to state that he was perfectly happy, and died in peace with God.
Even to the last moment, the attentions of the Reverend Ordinary to the four men whom we have pointed out were unavailing: to every remonstrance he offered, the only answer was, they wanted no assistance of his, their minds were perfectly made up on religious subjects, and they believed they should receive mercy at the hands of God.
When the awful ceremony of pinioning the culprits by the yeoman of the halter was concluded, they each shook hands, and most fervently exclaimed, “God bless you.” The Reverend Mr. Cotton then began to read the burial service, commencing at the words “I am the resurrection and the life,”&c., and, the arrangements being completed, the procession advanced through the dark passages of the gaol, led by the Sheriffs and Under-Sheriffs. The Reverend Mr. Cotton moved first.
Thistlewood followed, with his eyes fixed, as it were, in abstract thought, and apparently lost to his situation. A vacant and unmeaning stare pervaded his countenance, which seemed unmoved by the devotions of the pious Ordinary.
Tidd walked next, and although somewhat affected by his situation, his manner was collected, manly, and unaffectedly firm.
Ings came next, and was laughing without reserve, and used every forced effort to subdue the better feelings of nature, which might remind him of his awful situation; his conduct wasmore like a delirium of fear than an effect of courage.
Brunt, in fixed and hardened obduracy of mind, next advanced, and with a sullen and morose air of indifference surveyed the officers who were conducting him to his fate.
The unhappy Davidson came last, with clasped hands and uplifted eyes, praying most devoutly; and the officers of the gaol closed the mournful procession.
On their arrival at the Lodge, from which the Debtors’-door leads to the scaffold, a moment’s pause took place, while the dreadful paraphernalia of death were adjusted without. Thistlewood, who stood first, clasped his lips, and with a frown surveyed, from the door-way in which he stood, the awful preparations for his fate.
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 itreach 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 thatsubject. 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!”
A gentleman in the Lodge admonished them to consider their approaching fate, and to recollect the existence of a Deity, into whose supreme presence a few minutes would usher them.
Brunt exclaimed, “I know there is a God!” and Ings added, “Yes, to be sure; and I hope he will be more merciful to us than they are here.”
Tidd, who had stood in silence, was now summoned to the scaffold. He shook hands with all but Davidson, who had separated himself from the rest.
Ings again seized Tidd’s hand at the moment he was going out, and exclaimed, with a burst of laughter, “Give us your hand! Good-bye!”
A tear stood in Tidd’s eye, and his lips involuntarily muttered, “My wife and——!”
Ings proceeded—“Come my old cock-o’-wax, keep up your spirits; it all will be over soon.”
Tidd immediately squeezed his hand, and ran towards the stairs leading to the scaffold. In his hurry, his foot caught the bottom step, and he stumbled. He recovered himself, however, in an instant, and rushed upon the scaffold, where he was immediately received with three cheers from the crowd, in which he made a slight effort to join.
The applause was evidently occasioned by the bold and fearless manner in which the wretched man advanced to his station. He turned to the crowd who were upon Snow-hill, and bowed to them. He then looked down upon the coffins and smiled, and turning round to the people who were collected in the Old-Bailey towards Ludgate-hill, bowed to them. Several voices were again heard, and some in the crowd expressed their admiration of Tidd’s conduct.
The rope having been put round his neck, he told the executioner that the knot would be better on the right than on the left side, and that the pain of dying might be diminished by the change. He then assisted the executioner, and turned round his head several times for the purpose of fitting the rope to his neck. He afterwards familiarly nodded to some one whom he recognised at a window, with an air of cheerfulness. He also desired that the cap might not be put over his eyes, but said nothing more. He likewise had an orange in his hand, which he continued to suck most heartily. He soon became perfectly calm, and remained so till the last moment of his life.