[The following curious sketch is from Mr W. R. Wilde's _Irish
Popular Superstitions_, printed in M'Glashan's _Readings in
Popular Literature_. It does not refer to a superstition, but to
one of those facts which exhibit as much of the preternatural as
the wildest excursion of fancy. A portion of the little volume is
reprinted from the _Dublin University Magazine_, and, for aught
we know, Lady Betty may have made her appearance originally in
that work.]
The old jail of Roscommon stood, and, although now converted to other
purposes, still stands in the market-place, in the centre of the town.
It is an exceedingly high, dark, gloomy-looking building, with a
castellated top, like one of the ancient fortresses that tower above
the houses in many of the continental cities. It can be discerned at a
great distance; and, taken in connection with the extensive ruins of
O'Connor's Castle, in the suburbs, and the beautiful abbey upon the
other side of the town, seems to partake of the character of the
middle-age architecture. The fatal drop was, perhaps, the highest in
Ireland. It consisted of a small doorway in the front of the third
storey, with a simple iron beam and pulley above, and the _lapboard_
merely a horizontal door hinged to the wall beneath, and raised or let
fall by means of a sliding-bolt, which shot from the wall when there
was occasion to put the apparatus of death in requisition. Fearful as
this elevated gallows appeared, and unique in its character, it was
not more so than the finisher of the law who then generally officiated
upon it. No decrepit wretch, no crime-hardened ruffian, no secret and
mysterious personage, who was produced occasionally disguised and
masked, plied his dreadful trade here. Who, think you, _gentle_
reader--who now, perhaps, recoils from these unpleasant but truthful
minutiæ--officiated upon this gallows high?--a female!--a middle-aged,
stout-made, dark-eyed, swarthy-complexioned, but by no means
forbidding-looking woman--the celebrated Lady Betty--the finisheress
of the law--the unflinching priestess of the executive for the
Connaught circuit, and Roscommon in particular, for many years. Few
children, born or reared in that county thirty, or even
five-and-twenty years ago, who were not occasionally frightened into
'being good,' and going to sleep, and not crying when left alone in
the dark, by _huggath a' Pooka_, or, 'here's Lady Betty.' The only
fragment of her history which we have been able to collect is, that
she was a person of violent temper, though in manners rather above the
common, and possessing some education. It was said that she was a
native of the County Kerry, and that by her harsh usage she drove her
only son from her at an early age. He enlisted; but, in course of
years, returned with some money in his pocket, the result of his
campaigning. He knocked at his father's door, and asked a night's
lodging, determined to see for himself whether the brutal mother he
had left had in any way repented, or was softened in her disposition,
before he would reveal himself. He was admitted, but not recognised.
The mother, discovering that he possessed some money, murdered him
during the night. The crime was discovered, and the wretched woman
sentenced to be hanged, along with the usual dockful of
sheep-stealers, Whiteboys, shop-lifters, and cattle-houghers, who, to
the amount of seven or eight at a time, were invariably 'turned off'
within four-and-twenty hours after their sentences at each assizes. No
executioner being at hand, time pressing, and the sheriff and his
deputy being men of refinement, education, humanity, and sensibility,
who could not be expected to fulfil the office which they had
undertaken--and for which one of them, at least, was paid--this
wretched woman, being the only person in the jail who could be found
to perform the office, consented; and under the name of Lady Betty,
officiated, unmasked and undisguised, as _hangwoman_ for a great
number of years after; and she used also to flog publicly in the
streets, as a part of her trade. Numerous are the tales related of her
exploits, which we have now no desire to dwell upon. We may, however,
mention one extraordinary trait of her character. She was in the habit
of drawing, with a burnt stick, upon the walls of her apartment,
portraits of all the persons she executed.