_Wivell Delin^t._ _Cooper Sculp^t._]
While he stood on the edge of the steps, at the door of the gaol, he
said to Davis, one of the turnkeys, “Well, Mr. Davis, I am going to
find out this great secret,” and then springing upon the scaffold,
exclaimed, “Good-bye! Gentlemen. Here goes the remains of an
unfortunate man.”
He rushed to the platform, upon which he leaped and bounded in the most
frantic manner. Then turning himself round towards Smithfield, and
facing the very coffin that was soon to receive his mutilated body,
he raised his pinioned hands, in the best way he could, and leaning
forward with savage energy, roared out three distinct cheers to the
people, in a voice of the most frightful and discordant hoarseness.
But these unnatural yells of desperation, which were evidently nothing
but the ravings of a disordered mind, or the ebullitions of an assumed
courage, struck the majority of the vast multitude who heard them with
horror.
Turning his face towards Ludgate-hill, he bowed, and cried out, “This
is going to be the last remains of James Ings,” and shouted out part
of the song in which the words _Death or Liberty_ are introduced. He
laughed upon looking at the coffins, and said, turning his back to
them, “I’ll turn my back upon death!--Is this the gallows they always
use? Those coffins are for us, I suppose.”
Tidd, who stood next to him, and had the moment before been in
conversation with Thistlewood, turned about, and said, “Don’t, Ings.
There is no use in all this noise. We can die without making a noise.”
Ings was silent for a few moments; but as the executioner approached
him with the rope, he called out, “Do it well--pull it tight!”
When the executioner threw the rope round the beam, he said, “Give me a
better fall; the others won’t have fall enough.” When the man put him
on the cap, Ings said, “I have got a cap of my own; put it over this
night-cap, and I’ll thank you.” The executioner proceeded to do so; but
Ings said, “It will do when we are going off: let me see as long as I
can.” He then pushed the cap from his eyes. The others had raised the
caps from their eyes. “Here I go, James Ings!” said he, “and let it be
known that I die an enemy to all tyrants. Ah ha! I see a good many of
my friends are on the houses.”
Again Tidd turned round to Ings, and, as it appeared, at the suggestion
of Thistlewood, requested that he would not continue the noise. Ings
laughed and remained silent for a few minutes.
Mr. Cotton approached Tidd and Ings, but they turned away from him.
Ings smiled at his interference, but Tidd turned round to Thistlewood
and spoke a few words, in which he seemed to complain of the
inclination of the Ordinary to break in upon their last moments.
Thistlewood now said to Tidd, “We shall soon know the last grand
secret.”
Brunt, who, after the departure of Ings, stood by himself within
the porch of the prison, having no companion of his own principles
to encourage him, (as Davidson stood far away from him,) muttered
something about the injustice of his fate. The persons around him
repeatedly entreated him to alter his religious creed, during the
last few moments left, and to believe in the Saviour of the world.
Still immutable--still hardened in iniquity--he listened not to
the remonstrances of sincere friends, who besought him, for his
wife’s sake, and for the sake of his son, to ask the protection
of the Redeemer for them; but he appeared tired of these friendly
importunities, and wished to ascend the scaffold next.
Davidson, however, was summoned before him, and with a composed
countenance and a firm step he passed by his former companion in guilt
to his fate, without noticing him.
Brunt now appeared considerably irritated. “What,” he exclaimed, “am I
to be the last? Why is this? They can have my blood but once, and why
am I to be kept to the last? But I suppose they are afraid I should say
something to the people, because I spoke my mind on the trial. However,
I don’t care.”
Davidson walked up the platform with a firm and steady step, but with
all that respectful humility becoming the condition to which he had
reduced himself. He bowed to the crowd, and instantly joined Mr. Cotton
in prayer. He seemed inattentive to every thing but the journey he was
about to take, and his lips moved in prayer until he was no longer
able to speak. He made no request to have his eyes uncovered, but was
evidently preparing himself for bidding an eternal adieu to a world of
which he had ceased to be an inhabitant.
Brunt was the last summoned to the fatal platform, and he rushed
upon it with impetuosity. Some of the people cheered him, which
evidently gratified and pleased him. It brought a sort of grin on his
countenance, which remained till his death. But his aspect “belied
his utterance.” Externally he appeared to have shrunk more from his
fate than any one of his wretched companions; his cheeks had sunk
extremely, giving a degree of ghostly prominence to a forehead,
cheek-bones, and chin, naturally very much protruded, and his colour
was of a livid paleness; but the eyes of the man sent forth from their
deep recesses glances of distressing keenness; his lips were firmly
compressed together; not a tear trickled down his cheeks; there was no
quaking of the members. To use an expressive phrase of his speech on
receiving sentence, “he went through with the business.” “What,” said
he, “soldiers! What do they do here? I see nothing but a military
government will do for this country, unless there are a good many such
as we are. I see a good many of my friends round about.”
While the rope was being adjusted, he looked towards St. Sepulchre’s
Church, and perceiving, or affecting to perceive, some one with whom
he had been acquainted, he nodded several times, and then made an
inclination of the head towards the coffins, as if in derision of the
awful display. His conduct was marked by the same irrational levity to
the last. When his handkerchief was taken off, the stiffener fell out,
and he kicked it away, saying, “I shan’t want you any more.”
His last act was to take a pinch of snuff from a paper which he held in
his hand. He stooped to put it to his nose, and this he was only able
to effect by pushing up the night-cap which hung over his face. He also
threw off his shoes.
The executioner was now proceeding to adjust the ropes, and to pull the
caps over the faces of the wretched men. A voice from the crowd again
called out, “God bless you, Thistlewood!” Thistlewood looked towards
the place from which it issued, and slightly inclined his head. He then
said a few words in a whisper to Tidd, and awaited his fate in silence.
Brunt refused altogether to speak with Mr. Cotton upon the subject of
the next world, and declared that he had done all he thought necessary
for the place to which he was going. He appeared disposed to address
the crowd, but they were at too great a distance, and the executioner
was quick at his work.
The cap was first drawn over the face of Thistlewood, and his cravat
was bound over his eyes. He stooped gently while the man tied it, and
appeared to direct him as to the way in which he wished it done.
When the executioner came to Ings, the unhappy man said, “Now, old
gentleman, finish me tidily. Tie the handkerchief tight over my eyes.
Pull the rope tighter; it may slip.”
When the handkerchief was tied over his eyes, he cried out, “I hope,
Mr. Cotton, you will give me a good character!” and commenced swinging
about in his hand an old night-cap in the most careless manner.
Tidd’s lips were in motion just before he was turned off, as if in
prayer. Davidson was in the most fervent prayer, and seemed to feel his
situation with a becoming spirit. He firmly pressed the hand of the
Rev. Mr. Cotton.
The executioner having completed the details of his awful duty, by
placing the criminals in a proper situation upon the trap-door, walked
down the ladder, and left Mr. Cotton alone upon the scaffold. The
Reverend Gentleman standing closer to Davidson than to any of the rest,
began to read those awful sentences which have sounded last in the ears
of so many unhappy men. Suddenly the platform fell, and the agonies of
death were exhibited to the view of the crowd in their most terrific
form.
Thistlewood struggled slightly for a few minutes, but each effort was
more faint than that which preceded; and the body soon turned round
slowly, as if upon the motion of the hand of death.
Tidd, whose size gave cause to suppose that he would “pass” with little
comparative pain, scarcely moved after the fall. The struggles of Ings
were great. The assistants of the executioner pulled his legs with all
their might; and even then the reluctance of the soul to part from its
native seat was to be observed in the vehement efforts of every part of
the body. Davidson, after three or four heaves, became motionless; but
Brunt suffered extremely, and considerable exertions were made by the
executioners and others to shorten his agonies, by pulling and hanging
upon his legs. However, in the course of five minutes all was still.