Penny Dreadful Multipack Vol. 1 (Illustrated. Annotated. 'Wagner The Wehr-Wolf,' 'Varney The Vampire,' 'The Mysteries of London Vol. 1' + Bonus Features) (Penny Dreadful Multipacks) (210 page)

THE EXECUTION

FROM the moment that Bill Bolter had been removed from the
condemned cell, after his trial at the Old Bailey for the murder of his wife,
he preserved a sullen and moody silence.
    Two turnkeys sat up with him constantly, according to the
rules of the prison; but be never made the slightest advances towards entering
into conversation with them. The Chaplain was frequent in his attendance upon
the convict; but no regard was paid to his religious consolations and
exhortations of the reverend gentleman.
    The murderer ate his meals heartily, and enjoyed sound
physical health: he was hale and strong, and might, in the common course of
nature, have lived until a good old age.
    By day he sate, with folded arms, meditating upon his
condition He scarcely repented of the numerous evil deeds of which he had been
guilty: but he trembled at the idea of a future state!
    One night he had a horrid dream. He thought that the moment
had arrived for his execution, and that he was standing upon the drop. Suddenly
the board gave way beneath his feet - and he fell. An agonising feeling of the
blood rushing with the fury of a torrent and with a heat of molten lead up into
his brain, seized upon him: his eyes shot sparks of fire; and in his ears there
was a loud droning sound, like the moan of the ocean on a winter's night. This
satiation, be fancied, lasted about two minutes - a short and insignificant
space to those who feel no pain, but an age when passed in the endurance of
agony the most intense. Then he died: and he thought that his spirit left his
body with the last pulsation of the lungs, and was suddenly whirled downwards,
with tearful rapidity, upon the wings of a hurricane. He felt himself in total
darkness; and yet he had an idea that he was plunging precipitately into a
fearful gulf, around the sides of which hideous monsters, immense serpents,
formidable bats, and all kinds of slimy reptiles were climbing. At length he
reached the bottom of the gulf; and then the faculty of sight was suddenly
restored to him. At the same moment, he felt fires encircling him all around;
and a horrible snake coiled itself about him. He was in the midst of a
boundless lake of flame; and far as his eyes could reach, he beheld myriads of
spirits all undergoing the same punishment -  writhing in quenchless fire,
and girt by hideous serpents And he thought that neither himself nor those
spirits which he beheld around, wore any shape which he could define; and yet
he saw them
 
plainly - palpably. They had no heads - no limbs; and yet they
were something more than shapeless trunks, - all naked and flesh-coloured, and
unconsumed and indestructible amidst that burning lake, which had no end. In a
few moments this dread scene changed, and all was again dark.  The 
murderer fancied that he was now groping about in convulsive agonies upon the
bank of a river, the stream of which was tepid and thick like blood. The bank
was slimy and moist, and overgrown with huge osiers and dark weeds amidst which
loathsome reptiles and enormous alligators were crowded together. And it was in
this frightful place that the murderer was now spiritually groping his way, in
total and coal-black darkness. At length he slipped down the slimy bank - and
his feet touched the river, which he now knew to be of blood. He grasped convulsively
at the osiers to save himself from falling into that horrible stream; a huge
serpent sprang from the thicket, and coiled itself about his arms and neck;-
and at the same moment an enormous alligator rose from the river of blood, and
seized him in the middle between its tremendous jaws. He uttered a fearful cry and
awoke.
    This dream made a deep impression upon him. He believed that
he had experienced a foretaste of Hell -of that hell, with all its horrors, in
which he would he doomed for ever and ever - without hope, without end.
    And yet, by a strange idiosyncrasy of conduct, he did not
court the consolation if the clergyman: he breathed no prayer, gave no outward
and visible sign of repentance: but continued in the same sullen state of reserve
before noticed.
    Still after that dream, he dreaded to seek his bed at night.
He was afraid of sleep; for when he closed his eyes in slumber, visions of
hell, varied in a thousand horrible ways presented themselves to his mind.
    He never thought of his children: and once when the
clergyman asked him if he would like to see them, he shook his head
impatiently.
    Death! he shuddered at the idea - and yet he never sought to
escape from its presence by conversation or books. He sat moodily brooding upon
death and what would probably occur hereafter, until he conjured up to his
imagination all the phantasmagorical displays of demons, spectres, and
posthumous horrors ever conceived by human mind.
    On another occasion - the Friday before the Monday in which
he was executed - he dreamt of heaven. He thought that the moment the drop had
fallen from beneath his feet, a brilliant light, such as he had never seen on
earth, shone all around him :- the entire atmosphere was illuminated as with
gold-dust in the rays of a powerful sun. And the sun and moon and stars all
appeared of amazing size - immense orbs of lustrous and shining metal. He
fancied that he winged his way upwards with a slow and steady motion, a genial
warmth prevailing all around, and sweet odours delighting his senses. In this
manner he soared on high until at length he passed sun, moon and stars, and
beheld them all shining far, far beneath his feet. Presently the sounds of the
most ravishing sacred music, accompanied by choral voices hymning to the praise
of the Highest, fell upon his ear. His soul was enchanted by these notes of
promise, of hope, and of love; and, raising his eyes, he beheld the shining
palaces of heaven towering above vast and awe-inspiring piles of clouds. He
reached a luminous avenue amidst those clouds, which led to the gates of
paradise. He was about to enter upon that glorious and radiant path, when a
sudden change came over the entire spirit of his dream; and in a moment he
found himself dashing precipitately downwards, amidst darkness increasing in
intensity, but through which the sun, moon, end planets might be seen, at
immense distances, if a lurid and ominous red. Down - down he continued
falling, until he was pitched with violence upon the moist and slimy bank of that
river of tepid blood, whose margin was crowded with hideous reptiles, and whose
depths swarmed with wide-mouthed alligators.
    Thus passed the murderer's time - dread meditations by day,
and appalling dreams by night.
    Once he thought of committing suicide, and thus avoiding the
ignominy of the scaffold. He had no shame; but he dreaded hanging on account of
the pain - whereof he had experienced the dread sensations in his dreams.
Besides, death is not quite so terrible when inflicted by one's own hand, as it
is when dealt by another. He was, however, closely watched; and the only way in
which he could have killed himself was by dashing the back of his head
violently against the stone-wall. Then he reflected that he might not do this
effectually; and so he abandoned the idea of self-destruction.
    On the last Sunday of his life he attended the Chapel. A
condemned sermon was preached according to custom. The sacred fane was filled
with elegantly dressed ladies - the wives, daughters and friends of the City
authorities. The Clergyman enjoined the prisoner repentance, and concluded by
assuring him
 
that it was not even then too late to acknowledge
his errors and save his soul. God would still forgive him!
   
 
If God could thus forgive him, -
why could not Man? Oh! wherefore did that preacher confine his observations to
the mercy of the Almighty? why did he not address a terrible lecture to
bloodthirsty and avenging mortals? Of what use was the death of that sinner?
Surely there is no moral example in a public execution? "There is,"
says the Legislature. We will see presently.
    Oh! why could not the life of that man - stained with crime
and red with blood though it were -  have been spared, and he himself
allowed to live to see the horror of his ways, and learn to admire virtue? He
might have been locked up for the remainder of his existence: bars and bolts in
English gaols are very strong; there was enough air for him to be allowed to
breathe it ; and there was enough bread to have spared him a morsel at the
expense of the state!
    We cannot give life : we have no right to take it away.
    On the Sunday afternoon, the murderer's children were taken
to see him in the condemned cell. He had not asked for them, but the
authorities considered it proper that they should take leave of him.
    The pour little innocents were dressed in the workhouse
garb. The boy understood that his father was to be hanged on the following
morning; and his grief was heart-rending. The little girl could not understand
why her parent was in that gloomy place, nor what horrible fate awaited him;-
but she had an undefined and vague sense of peril and misfortune; and she cried
also.
    The murderer kissed them, and told them to be good
children;- but he only thus conducted himself because he was ashamed to appear
so unfeeling and brutal as he knew himself to be, in the presence
 
of the Ordinary, the Governor,
the Sheriffs, and the ladies who were admitted to have a glimpse of him in his
dungeon.

* * * * *

    The morning of the second Monday after the
Sessions dawned.
    This was the one fixed by the Sheriffs for the execution of
William Bolter, the murderer.
    At four o'clock on that fatal morning the huge black stage
containing the drop, was wheeled out of a shed in the Press Yard, and stationed
opposite the debtors' door of Newgate. A carpenter and his assistant then
hastily fitted up the two perpendicular spars, and the one horizontal beam,
which formed the gibbet.
    There were already several hundreds of persons collected to
witness these preliminary arrangement; and from that hour until eight o'clock
multitudes continued pouring from every direction towards that spot - the focus
of an all-absorbing interest.
    Man - that social, domestic, and intelligent animal, will
leave his child crying in the cradle, his wife tossing upon a bed of pain and
sickness, and his blind old parents to grope their way about in the dark, in
order to be present at an exhibition of fellow creatures disgrace, agony, or
death. And the law encourages this morbid taste in all countries termed
civilised, - whether it be opposite the debtors door of Newgate, or around the
guillotine erected at the Barriere Sant Jacques of Paris,- whether it be in the
midst of ranks of soldiers, drawn up to witness the abominable infliction of
the lash in the barracks of Charing Cross, or the buttons cut off a deserter's
coat in the Place Vendome,- whether it be to see a malefactor broken on the
wheel in the dominion of the tyrant who is called "Europe's Protestant
Sovereign," or to behold the military execution of a great general at
Madrid, - whether it be to hear an English judge in the nineteenth century,
unblushingly condemn a man to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, and his
dissected corpse disposed of according to the will of our Sovereign Lady the
Queen; or to witness some miserable peasant expire beneath the knout in the
territories of the Czar.
    But the Law is vindictive, cowardly, mean, and ignorant. It
is
 
vindictive
 
because its punishments are more
severe than the offences, and because its officers descend to any dirtiness in
order to obtain conviction. It is
 
cowardly,
 
because it cuts off from the
world, with a rope or an axe, those men whose dispositions it fears to
undertake to curb. It is
 
mean
, because it is all in favour of
the wealthy, and reserves its thunders for the poor and obscure who have no
powerful interest to protect them; and because itself originates nearly half
the crimes which it punishes. And it is
 
ignorant
, because it erects the gibbet
where it should rear the cross, - because it makes no allowance for the cool
calculating individual who commits a crime, but takes into its consideration
the case of the passionate man who assassinates his neighbour in a momentary
and uncontrollable burst of rage, - thus forgetting that the former is the more
likely one to be led by redaction to virtue, and that the latter is a demon
subject to impulses which he can never subdue. 
    From an early hour a glittering light was seen through the
small grated window above the debtors door; for the room. to which that door
belongs is now the kitchen.
    These was something sinister and ominous in that oscillating
glare, breaking through the mists of the cold December morning, and playing
upon the black spars of the gibbet which stood high above the already dense but
still increasing multitudes.
    Towards eight o'clock the crowd had congregated to such an
extent that it moved and undulated like the stormy ocean. And, oh! what
characters were collected around that jibbet. Every hideous den, every
revolting hole - every abode of vice, squalor, and low debauchery, had vomited
forth their horrible population. Women, with young children in their arms,-
pickpockets of all ages, - swell-mobsmen,- prostitutes, thieves and villains of
all degrees and descriptions, were gathered there on that fatal morning. 
    And amidst that multitude prevailed mirth, and laughter, and
gaiety. Ribald language, obscene jokes, and filthy expressions, were heard
around, even to the very foot of the gallows; and even at that early hour
intoxication was depicted upon the countenances of several whom the law had
invited thither to derive an example from the tragedy about to be enacted!
    Example, indeed! Listen to those shouts of laughter: they
emanate from a group collected round a pickpocket only twelve years old, who is
giving an account of how he robbed an elderly lady on the preceding evening.
But, ah! what are those moans, accompanied with horrible oaths and
imprecations? Two women fighting: they are tearing each other to pieces - and
their husbands are backing them. In another direction, a simple-looking
countryman suddenly discovers that his handkerchief and purse are gone. In a
moment his hat is knocked over his eyes; and he himself is cuffed, and kicked,
and pushed about in a most brutal manner.
    Near the scaffold the following conversation takes place:-
    "I wonder what the man who is going to be hanged is
doing at this moment."
    It is now half-past seven. He is about receiving sacrament."
    "Well -  if I was he, I'd send the old parson to
the devil, and pitch into the sheriff."
    "Yes - so would I. For my part, I should like to live
such a life as Jack Sheppard or Dick Turpin did, even if I did get hanged at
last."
    "There is something noble and exciting in the existence
of a highwayman: and then - at last - what admiration on the part of the
crowd  - what applause when he appears upon the drop!"
    "Yes. If this fellow Bolter bad contented himself with
being a burglar, or had only murdered those who resisted him, I should have
cheered him heartily; - but to kill his wife - there's something cowardly in
that; and so I shall hiss him."
    "And so shall I."
    "A quarter to eight! The poor devil's minutes are
pretty well numbered."
    "I wonder what he is about now."
    "The pinioning will begin directly, I dare say."
    "That must be the worst part."
    "Oh! no - not a bit of it. You may depend upon it that
he is not half so miserable as we are inclined to think him. A man makes up his
mind to die as well as to anything else. But what the devil noise is
that?"
    "Oh! only some fool of a fellow singing a patter song
about a man hanging, and imitating all the convulsions of the poor wretch. My
eyes! how the people do laugh!"
    "Five minutes to eight! They won't be long now."
    At this moment the bell of Saint Sepulchre's
 
church began to toll the funeral
knell - that same bell whose ominous sound had fallen upon the ears of the
wretched murderer, where he lay concealed in the vault of the Old House.
    The laughing - the joking - the singing - and the fighting
now suddenly subsided; and every eye was turned towards the scaffold. The most
breathless curiosity prevailed.
    Suddenly the entrance of the debtor's door was darkened by a
human form; the executioner hastily ascended the steps, and appeared upon the
scaffold.
    He was followed by the Ordinary in his black-gown, walking
with slow and measured pace along, and reading the funeral service - while the
bell of Saint Sepulchre continued its deep, solemn, and foreboding death-note.
    The criminal came next.
    His elbows were bound to his sides, and his wrists fastened
together with thin cord. He had on a decent suit of clothes, supplied by the
generosity of Tom the Cracksman; and on his head was a white night-cap.
    The moment he appeared upon the scaffold, a tremendous shout
arose from the thousands and thousands of spectators assembled to witness his
punishment.
    He cast a hurried and anxious glance around him.
    The large open space opposite the northern wing of Newgate
seemed literally paved with human faces, which were continued down the Old
Bailey and Giltspur Street, as far as he could see. The houses facing the
prison were crammed with life -  roof and window.
    It seemed as if he were posted upon a rock in the midst of
an ocean of people.
    Ten thousand pairs of eyes were concentrated in him. All was
animation and interest, as if a grand national spectacle was about to take
place.
    "Hats off!" was the universal cry: the multitudes
were determined to lose nothing! The cheapness of an amusement augments the
pleasure derived from it. We wonder that the government has never attempted to
realise funds by charging a penny a-piece for admission to behold the execution
at Newgate In such a country as England, where even religion is made a
compulsory matter of taxation, the dues collected at executions would form a
fund calculated to thrive bravely.
    While the executioner was occupied in fixing the halter
round the convict's neck, the Ordinary commenced that portion of the Burial
Service, which begins thus: - 
 
   "Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time
to live, and and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a
flower: he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay."
   
 
The executioner having attached
the rope, and drawn the nightcap over the criminal's face, disappeared from the
scaffold, and went beneath the platform to draw the bolt that sustained the
drop.
    "In the midst of life we are in death; of whom may
we seek for succour, but of thee, O Lord who —"
   
 
Here the drop fell.
    A dreadful convulsion appeared to pass through the
murderer's frame; and for nearly a minute his hands moved nervously up and down.
Perhaps during those fifty seconds, the horrors of his dream were realised,
 
and he felt the blood rushing
with the fury of a torrent and with the heat of molten lead up into his brain;
perhaps his eyes shot sparks of fire; and in his ears was a loud droning sound
like the moan of the ocean on a winter's night!
   
 
But the convulsive movement of
the hands soon ceased, and the murderer hung a lifeless corpse.
    The crowd retained its post till nine o'clock, when the body
was cut down: then did that vast assemblage of persons, of both sexes and all
ages, begin to disperse.
    The public-houses in the Old Bailey and the immediate
neighbourhood drove a roaring trade throughout that day.