Chapter VII: Part 7

'I, Thomas Head, alias Williams, now under sentence of death in
Newgate, do solemnly confess and declare the foregoing statement
and confession of John Bishop, which has been made in my presence,
and since read over to me distinctly, is altogether true, so
far as the same relates to me. I declare that I was never
concerned in, or privy to, any other transaction of the like
nature--that I never knew anything of the murder of any other
person whatever--that I was never a body-snatcher, or concerned
in the sale of any other body than the three murdered by Bishop
and myself--that May was a stranger to me, and I had never seen
him more than once or twice before Friday the 4th of November
last--and that May was wholly innocent and ignorant of any of
those murders in which I was concerned, and for one of which I am
about to suffer death.

'THOMAS HEAD.'

'Witness, R. ELLIS,
'Newgate, December 4, 1831.'

'The above confessions taken literally, from the prisoners, in our
presence,

'T. WOOD, }
'R. ELLIS,} Under-Sheriffs.'

In regard to this confession of Bishop, we may be allowed to offer a few cursory remarks, and particularly as we have, on another occasion, laid before the public the confessions of Holloway, two of which were given, as he himself expressly declares, for the express purpose of misleading the judicial authorities of the country, with the avowed aim of saving the life of his guilty accomplice, and in which, with shame be it spoken, he too well succeeded. A voluntary confession of a criminal, standing almost at the foot of the scaffold, ought to be received with the utmost degree of caution and distrust; but in the case of the confession of Bishop, the most singular feature of the case is, that part of it has actually been believed and acted upon, whilst another part is wholly rejected, and declared to be false, although no documentary evidence has been brought forward to prove it such. In regard, however, to confessions in general, it really appears to us, that every magistrate, who has a prisoner to examine, thinks it his duty to set himself, with all his skill, to prevent the discovery of the truth from the only person, who, although he may strive to disguise, knows completely the facts of the case. This custom has no sanction in law, is repugnant to common sense, and contrary to the practice of all other nations, whose criminal codes are, generally speaking, in a more perfect state, and are certainly much more humane than our own. A man charged with an offence ought not to be compelled to confession by the promise of pardon; but is there no difference between this and actually urging him to silence against his will, as a method of escape, though he may have committed the offence? We are really sick of reading examinations, every part and portion of which are made up of injunctions to the accused, to do and say nothing whatever that can by any possibility injure his chance of eluding justice. The following, in our opinion, ought to be the practice:--All hints of advantage to the accused from confession--all recommendations to confess being cautiously abstained from; what he has to say, or chooses voluntarily to say, should be received in silence, and no obstruction thrown in his way; and, after all, what do these confessions amount to? They are but too frequently a tissue of falsehood and truth, calculated to mislead the jury, and cast a doubt upon the positive facts of the case. In all cases of confession, however, after conviction, the circumstances under which the confession is given should be particularly taken into consideration before any decisive opinion is formed as to its falsity or truth. From the nature of these circumstances a clue may be obtained to the motive which prompts the individual to make the confession, and on which depends, in a great degree, its claim to our credibility and confidence. The motive which prompted Bishop to make his confession could not have had any relationship with the hope of its saving him from an ignominious death; and it is not rational to believe that a man, under his circumstances, would make a confession for the mere purpose of deceiving, when he must have been fully conscious to himself, that not the slightest benefit could accrue to him. In the confession of Bishop there is an evident attempt to shake the verdict of the jury, to throw a doubt upon the administration of justice, and to agitate the public mind, and, as such, we would receive it with the utmost distrust; but the most striking peculiarity of the case is, that the main circumstances of it are corroborated by an accomplice, who could not have been actuated by any flattering motive to confirm the testimony already given, and who was actually ignorant at the time of the exact tenor of the circumstances detailed in the confession as given by Bishop. The confessions of Williams and Bishop were given to different individuals, in different places, but nearly at the same time, the chief question then to be decided is, had any previous agreement been entered into between these individuals as to the nature of the confession which they were to make? for unless such agreement had been entered into, the statement put forth by one of them, and corroborated in every particular by the other, supposing no previous collusion to exist, is certainly entitled to a great share of our belief. It is certain that the confession of Bishop made a very strong impression on the public mind, and to qualify the effect of it, Mr. Corder put forth a written statement to the public, which will be given in another part of the work; and the aim of which was to demonstrate, that the last words of Bishop and Williams were false. The whole gist of Mr. Corder's statement rests on the following syllogism:--

Bishop confesses to the murder of a Lincolnshire boy,
No Lincolnshire boy has been missing;
_Ergo_--No Lincolnshire boy has been murdered.

Bishop, however, does not confess to the murder of the Italian boy, but he says, that the corpse which was taken, as it may be said, upon him, was not that of Carlo Ferrari, but of a Lincolnshire youth, who had been entrapped into their snares, as described both by Bishop and Williams. It must be also remarked, that the identity of the body of the Italian boy was never fully established; in fact, the chief witness who was brought forward to depose to the fact, declared positively that he could not swear it was the body of Carlo Ferrari, but that _it was very like it_. If we examine the majority of the confessions made by convicted criminals, we shall generally find them destitute of all truth. The confession of Fauntleroy was a confession of being _innocent_ of almost all the forgeries he had committed; and it is rather remarkable, that the chief murderer of Mr. Steele, upwards of thirty years ago, was JOHN HOLLOWAY, and the most just verdict which was pronounced against him and his accomplice, Owen Haggarty, was attempted to be invalidated after their execution, on account of the confession made by the latter. A variety of opinions still exists in regard to the truth of Bishop's confession; but we shall here close our remarks, with the brief observation, that we do not perceive what right, in a Protestant Church, either priest or magistrate has to urge a convict to make a confession; for we are convinced, that if a confession before conviction be of little worth, the confession afterwards is almost universally false.

There was, however, one circumstance connected with the confession of Williams, which subjected the worthy Ordinary of Newgate to public animadversion; and, subsequently, to an examination of his conduct before the Court of Aldermen.

It appears, that whilst Williams was making his confession to the Rev. Mr. Williams, of Hendon, the Rev. Ordinary stepped in, and put an end to all further disclosure from the mouth of Williams, which act was construed into one of supererogation on the part of Mr. Cotton, incompatible with his clerical character, and at variance with the promotion of the ends of justice. This circumstance was brought before the public in the following letter, addressed to the editor of a morning paper:--

'SIR,

'Can you inform me by what authority the Rev. Mr. Cotton
interposed to suppress the confessions of the two murderers? Were
they, in consequence, better qualified to receive from him that
spiritual instruction which he professes to give, or had he any
other motive by which his conduct was actuated?

'I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
JAMES STONE.

'_Dec. 10._'

This letter produced the following one from Mr. Under-Sheriff Wood, addressed to the Editor of the same paper:--

'SIR,

'I read in your paper this morning a letter signed "James Stone,"
requesting to be informed "by what authority the Rev. Mr. Cotton
interposed to suppress the confessions of the two murderers."
That letter is dated December 10, but has not the address of
the writer. Will you be so obliging as to furnish it to me, in
order that the Sheriffs may ascertain upon what authority it was
written, and whether there is any foundation for the imputation it
is intended to convey? Till then, it must be obvious to Mr. Stone
that he cannot receive an answer.

'I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
'THOMAS WOOD, Under-Sheriff.

'_Little St. Thomas Apostle, Dec. 12._'

By the letter of Mr. Wood, he seemed to intimate that the Sheriffs were disposed to institute a solemn inquiry into the conduct of the Ordinary. If, however, they could suppose that person capable of acting the monstrous part imputed to him, surely they would not have wanted such aid as the unknown letter-writer could be expected to supply, in order to induce them to bring his merits before the proper authorities. At all events, it was no very handsome compliment paid to the worthy Ordinary.

In explanation, however, of the conduct of Mr. Cotton, the following letter appeared in the same paper, and on the same day, as that of Mr. Under-Sheriff Wood:--

'SIR,

'By way of elucidation, relative to the letter inserted in your
paper of this day, demanding by what authority the Rev. Mr. Cotton
interposed to suppress the confessions of the two murderers,
and signed "James Stone," I beg to inform you, that whilst the
Rev. Mr. Williams, of Hendon, was listening to the confession of
Williams the murderer, Mr. Cotton went into the cell, and called
out, "Come, come, Mr. Williams, what is all this about? I suppose
you want to extract confessions with a view to publish them:
let me converse with the criminal." Upon this unexpected and
extraordinary interruption by the Ordinary, the Rev. Mr. Williams
retired to another part of the room, and was much astonished. I
am, Sir, your obedient servant,

'A READER.

'_Paul's Chain, Dec. 12._'

Now there were but very few persons present when Williams is said to have been engaged in his confessions, and, of course, the writer of it could have been easily ascertained; but the publicity which had been given to the transaction induced the Court of Aldermen to institute an inquiry into the conduct of the Rev. Ordinary, and after a most minute investigation, he was fully exonerated from all the blame which had been imputed to him.

It may be here necessary to epitomize some parts of the confessions of Bishop and Williams, as it was on account of the concurrent testimony of those two individuals that a respite for May was ultimately obtained.

Bishop, during his interview with the Rev. Mr. Williams, had confessed to the commission of three murders, and he was proceeding to detail the particulars of a fourth, in which a black man, a negro, was the victim; and he was about to give the names of other parties who were implicated with him in the last-mentioned murder, when the interruption of the Rev. Ordinary already alluded to took place; nor could Mr. Williams, in the course of that interview, induce the convict to resume the thread of his narrative. The confessions, however, of Bishop and Williams both went to exculpate May from any participation in any of the murders. They both declared that May did not see the body, supposed to be the Italian boy, till the Friday evening, the day after the murder; they denied that their next door neighbour, Woodcock, could have heard any footsteps or scuffling, as he had described in his evidence; and they asserted, that, after hocussing the boy with laudanum in rum, he became as dead as a log. In that state they carried him to the well in the yard, and held his head under the water, till they were sure that he was completely suffocated. Previously to going into the yard for the above horrid purpose, they both took off their shoes.

They added, that, during the whole affair, there was no person in the lower part of the house, but themselves, Bishop and Williams, they having some time previously sent their wives to bed. The prisoners also denied the correctness of the medical testimony given on the trial. It will be remembered that the death of the boy was described in evidence, as having been occasioned by a blow inflicted during life on the back of the neck; whereas the prisoners asserted, that this appearance of a supposed deadly injury was occasioned by the twisting of the neck to force the corpse into the trunk, immediately after it was brought from the well. They also said that extravasation of blood, such as that described by the surgeons, always occurs when a body is thus doubled up while it is warm. Having received these confessions, and having heard the most solemn declarations from May of his innocence, the Rev. Mr. Williams and Mr. Wontner immediately waited upon Mr. Justice Littledale and Baron Vaughan, who had been present on the bench whilst the prisoners were tried by Lord Chief Justice Tindal, and who were still engaged in trying cases at the Old Bailey. On hearing the statements made by Mr. Wontner and the Rev. Mr. Williams, Baron Vaughan felt inclined to suggest to Chief Justice Tindal, the propriety of recommending that a respite should be granted to May. Mr. Justice Littledale believed, on the contrary, that the verdict was correct in the case of May, as well as those of Bishop and Williams, and that the law ought to take its course. The Rev. Mr. Williams and Mr. Wontner then waited upon Mr. Chief Justice Tindal at his residence, and upon communicating to him the statements which they had previously laid before Baron Vaughan and Mr. Justice Littledale, the Chief Justice said, he would, as early as possible, see the Home Secretary on the subject. This learned judge appeared to agree in opinion with Baron Vaughan. It was next ascertained that Lord Melbourne was not in town; but as a Cabinet Council was to be held at two o'clock on Sunday afternoon, no doubt was entertained that his lordship would attend officially, and that shortly previous to that hour, the Chief Justice would have an opportunity of conferring with him on the facts of this extraordinary case.

During the whole of Saturday, the sheriffs, under-sheriffs and several other official persons were decidedly opposed to any mitigation of the punishment of May, and indeed to any delay of his execution; and it was expected that the applications that were being made on his behalf would be frustrated by the positive opinions and predilections of some influential individuals. But on Sunday morning the sheriffs visited all three of the prisoners in succession; and the under-sheriffs, who are very intelligent men, were engaged between three and four hours in taking down the statements of the convicts; the consequence was, we understand, that the opinions of both sheriffs and under-sheriffs underwent a decided change, as to May being implicated in the crime of murder. They were consequently desirous that _his_ sentence should be mitigated. The result of all these investigations was, that on Sunday afternoon, at half-past four o'clock, a RESPITE during his Majesty's pleasure arrived at Newgate for May, and his sentence was commuted to transportation for life.

Shortly after the arrival of the respite at Newgate, Dr. Cotton and Mr. Wontner went to the room in which the three prisoners were confined for the day. The rev. gentleman opened the paper, and began to read it aloud. The most anxious attention was paid to its contents by all the prisoners; but the interest manifested by May, who must have known that the fate of his miserable companions was sealed, but had felt that there was still hope for him, was quite painful to witness. His agitation was dreadful; but no sooner had Dr. Cotton repeated the words, 'that the execution of the sentence upon John May shall be respited during His Majesty's most gracious pleasure,' than the poor wretch fell to the earth, as if struck by lightning. His arms worked with the most frightful contortions, and four of the officers of the prison could with difficulty hold him. His countenance assumed a livid paleness--the blood forsook his lips--his eyes appeared set, and pulsation at the heart could not be distinguished. All persons present thought that he could not possibly survive; it was believed, indeed, that the warrant of mercy had proved his death-blow.

Mr. Wontner and Dr. Cotton, who have of course witnessed many scenes of dreadful agitation during their experience among capital convicts, declare that they never before beheld any human being so fearfully affected. It was nearly a quarter of an hour before May was restored to the use of his faculties. At last, when recollection returned, he attempted to clasp his hands in the attitude of thanksgiving, but his limbs shook so violently that he found even that was impossible. His lips moved, but nothing but inarticulate sounds came from his tongue. The parties present soothed him with assurances that they knew what he meant to say, and with earnest entreaties that he would calm himself, and not attempt to speak. When restored to something like composure, May poured forth his gratitude to God, and his thanks to the humane gentlemen who had interested themselves in his behalf. He then explained, that when the reverend ordinary commenced reading the warrant, he thought that all hope was at an end--that the ceremony was to signify to him that he must die--the sudden revulsion of feeling, when he heard the words we have quoted, caused him to swoon. He added, that on learning that he was to be spared, he felt as if his heart had burst in his bosom. He declared most solemnly, now that he was out of jeopardy, as he had done before, that he had nothing to do with the murder for which he had been condemned to die. He had never been concerned--either directly or indirectly--in any murder; but acknowledged he had committed many sins for which the Almighty might justly have left him to suffer on this occasion. He hoped now to lead a better life, and to evince his gratitude to God by sincere repentance.

It will hardly be credited that Bishop and Williams beheld this awful scene with an indifference approaching to apathy. The dreadful agitation of their less guilty associate seemed to have no effect upon them, though it was remarked that the contortions of May must have brought to their recollections the struggles of some of their murdered victims.

May (who is a tall, light-haired, and rather good-looking man, about thirty years of age) is the natural son of a barrister, who formerly had chambers in the New Inn. His mother was a laundress in the chambers; she was particularly fond of her son, and when he was about twelve years of age she used to lead him about, fearful that any harm should come to him. He was educated at a boarding-school, and received a tolerable education; he wrote an excellent hand, and at the age of fourteen he was employed in a professional gentleman's office, at No. 10, in the New Inn; but he was always of a wild, roving disposition, and whenever he could get away from his duties he was associating with the worst of characters about Clare-market. This appeared to be his sole delight until he neglected the office altogether, and was consequently discharged. He had at the same time some good friends, who felt an interest in his welfare, but nothing could induce him to break off with his associates; and instead of remaining a clerk, which he was well adapted for, he took a liking to be a butcher. The first place he got was at Mr. Roberts's, in Clare-market, with whom he lived some time: he afterwards lived with Mr. Price, in the same market; but he never remained long in one place. At last he took up the trade of a 'body-snatcher;' and in order to carry on the business with the greatest facility, took a lodging in one of the houses in Clement's-lane, Strand, the back of which looks into the burying-ground, situated in Portugal-street, at the rear of St. Clement Danes' workhouse. Here he commenced business, and was very successful; but like many others, flushed by success, he could not keep his own secret, and would brag of the number of bodies he had got out of the burying-ground at the back of his lodgings of a night, and what sums he had sold them for. He at first made no secret of his profession, and considered it meritorious, till at last he found that he was detested and despised by every person. He then left that part of the town, and got acquainted with Bishop and his associates. May was always considered a lively, interesting fellow, fond of jokes, and ready for any mischief; but his disposition was not naturally cruel, and no person who knew him a few years ago could believe that he would be the accessary to take away the life of the humblest individual. May's mother is dead, but we believe his father is still living.

Williams was in custody not long since, charged with breaking into a house in a court situate near the Hackney-road, and stealing the corpse of a widow's son, a youth of sixteen or seventeen, who had died a day or two before. The poor woman had left her home for a short time only, and on her return found the corpse had, in the mean time, been stolen. Some of the female neighbours then recollected that while they were standing in the court shortly before, a man passed them with a basket containing something which smelt very offensively, and occasioned them to look particularly at the man, although they had no suspicion, until the alarm was given, that he was carrying off the corpse of the widow's son. A pursuit was immediately commenced, but without success. From the description given, however, a policeman apprehended Williams on the following morning, and he was identified by the females as the man whom they had seen near the house with a basket as stated. No trace of the body, nor of the manner in which it had been disposed of, could be discovered, nor any further evidence obtained, and, after an examination before a magistrate, the prisoner was discharged upon a recognizance. Williams was born at Highgate, and was apprenticed to a bricklayer; dissipation, however, led him to abandon his business and to become the associate of thieves; his conduct nearly ruined his mother; and after he had been repeatedly in custody on various charges of felony, about six year's since he was apprehended in Shoe-lane, selling a copper which he had stolen, and was convicted at the Old Bailey, and sentenced to seven years' transportation. Subsequently he was sent to the Penitentiary, which he left a few months since; and he then became a resurrectionist, and continued that horrid profession until apprehended. We understand he had only been married seven weeks previous to his apprehension.

The father of Bishop was a worthy and industrious man, who for some years kept an errand-cart between Highgate and London. On the 8th of November, 1816, he was unfortunately run over by one of Pickford's vans, the wheels of which passed over both his legs, and crushed them so dreadfully that amputation was necessary. He did not long survive the operation. The estimation in which he was held was evidenced by the fact, that immediately upon his decease the inhabitants of Highgate subscribed upwards of three hundred pounds for the relief of the family. He left his widow far advanced in pregnancy. The money thus subscribed was placed in the hands of trustees, to be dispensed to the family as occasion might require. It was soon discovered that the objects of this liberal benevolence were unworthy of the exertions that had been made in their behalf, for the widow of the deceased and her son-in-law scrupled not to live together openly as man and wife. The money, however, had been raised for them, and the trustees who had no power to withhold it, were pestered with applications until the family had secured the whole. A great portion of it went into the hands of the widow, the son, and the daughter, who is now the wife of Williams, alias Head.

The conduct of both Williams and Bishop on the day previous to their execution was an intermixture of hardened indifference, and that agonizing restlessness which harrows up the soul of the criminal as the hour of his execution approaches.

Both the convicts slept during Sunday night, but awoke at intervals, and conversed with the officers of the jail appointed to watch them. Occasionally they entered into religious observances, but generally were averse to them. Once, when the person who sat up with Williams proposed to read to him some extracts out of religious books left with him by the Ordinary, Williams roughly declined the proposal, saying, 'I had religious talk enough during the day--I will have none of it to-night.' He then entered into conversation with the officer upon the subject of the offence for which he was going to suffer. He solemnly assured him that, up to the time of his marriage, he had never had any connexion with resurrection-men, and even added, that it was not until his wedding-night that he had any idea that Bishop got his livelihood by that horrible trade. He told the officer that on that night, shortly after he had got to bed, his wife conjured him not to have anything to do with the snatchers. This led to inquiries on his part, which terminated in a full disclosure, by his wife, of the practices by which her brother-in-law supported his family. No communication took place between himself and Bishop on the subject till some time afterwards, when he was suddenly thrown out of work. Bishop then gradually disclosed to him his mode of life, and asked him to become a partner in the trade. Williams assented. He then became a regular resurrection-man; but being tired with the difficulties and dangers of the trade, he proposed to Bishop, that, instead of disinterring, they should murder subjects. He was then asked what led him to make such a proposal; and his reply was, 'The recollection of what Burke had done at Edinburgh.'

After some other facts, tallying with those in Bishop's account, he stated that on the Sunday after the murder of the woman Pigburn, they attempted to Burke a man whom they accidentally lured into their power. The laudanum, however, which they had mixed with his liquor was not strong enough, as Bishop said, to stupify him beyond resistance, and he was, therefore, allowed to escape, partly from a fear of his struggles, and partly from Bishop's arm being palsied by a similar feeling to that which palsied _Lady Macbeth's_ arm in a similar situation,--namely, the feeling that the man whom he was about to despatch 'resembled _his_ father as he slept.' Still bent on their murderous trade, they endeavoured, on the following Tuesday, to get another subject by the same means. Again was the laudanum inefficient; and in this case, as in the former, both the intended victims left the house in which they met these ruffians, without any idea of their having been exposed to such great and imminent danger.

Two men were appointed to sit up with each of the criminals during Sunday night. About half-past twelve o'clock, Williams, who had evinced during the evening a great degree of restlessness and feverish anxiety, became somewhat calmer, and said, 'I shall now go to bed for the last time.' He first threw himself upon his knees, and prayed for some time fervently, and then undressing himself, went to his couch, but continued in conversation with the men for more than an hour, during which time he wrote a note, of which we give a copy, addressed to the Rev. Mr. Russell, the chaplain to the Penitentiary, where he (Williams) was confined for about three years.

'_Newgate, Dec. 4th, 1831._

'Mr. Russell,--If you will be kind enough to let my brother
prisoners know the awful death which I shall have suffered when
you receive this, it will, through your expostulations, prevent
them from increasing their crimes when they may be liberated;
and tell them bad company, and drinking, and blasphemy, is the
foundation of all evil. Give my brotherly love to them, and tell
them never to deviate from the paths of religion, and to have
a firm belief in their blessed Saviour. Give my love to John
Edwards, John Justin, and John Dingle, and receive the prayers of
the unfortunate and guilty

'THOMAS HEAD.'

Both prisoners rose at six o'clock in the morning, and were soon after visited by the rev. gentlemen who had before attended them. Williams, at times, appeared fervent in his devotions, and prayed earnestly; but at intervals he would pause, and seem as if his prayer was hopeless; again he would resume his prayer, and clasp his hands in great agony. Bishop also prayed; but he by no means showed the same fervour as his companion. There was a listlessness in his manner approaching to indifference, not merely to religion, but to everything passing around him. At one time, when urged on the subject of his hope of forgiveness, he said, he did hope and trust for mercy through Jesus Christ. He added, that he fully deserved what he was about to suffer, but that his case would be desperate, if some greater mercy were not extended to him in the world which he was about to enter.

We should here mention a fact, that has been communicated to us on highly respectable authority, that on Sunday, besides the Rev. Mr. Cotton and another gentleman, there were two clergymen present with the convicts. The two clergymen were instructing the men on doctrinal points, which Mr. Cotton thought unnecessary. He therefore advised that the prisoners should retire into different corners of the room, and pray silently to God. Mr. Cotton found it necessary to give this advice twice. On both occasions the men withdrew as desired, fell on their knees, prayed for a short time, and then burst into tears. Before this, both prisoners seemed agitated to a degree which it was most distressing to witness. As they prayed they became more composed. The Rev. Mr. Russell, and another clergyman, were with the prisoners early on Monday morning, and remained with them up to the time of their being removed into the press-room.

The applications made on Sunday to the sheriffs, by the nobility and gentry, to allow them admission to the interior of the prison to witness the preliminaries of the execution were beyond all precedent.

Many applications were also made for admission to the condemned sermon. None, however, was preached. In the case of murderers this solemnity is not granted. The tolling of the prison-bell, which adds so much to the horrors of a common execution, by sounding the knell for the dead in the ears of those about to die, was also dispensed with. We never heard that any sufferer complained of the omission. We have seen many who were not murderers deeply affected by the funeral honour or compliment thus paid to them on their way to the scaffold.

During the whole of Saturday and Sunday, the lord-mayor and sheriffs, assisted by the city marshals, Messrs. Brown and Cope, were busily engaged in adopting precautions to guard against the possibility of accident at the execution. All the officers of the various wards in the city were ordered to attend; and besides the usual force of the city police, a large body of special constables were sworn in. An extra number of heavy barriers were erected in the Old Bailey, immediately contiguous to the space on which the gallows stands, at short distances, so as to prevent the crush of the multitude as much as possible; and the same precautions were adopted at either end of the Old Bailey, at the end of Newgate-street, Giltspur-street, and Skinner-street.

All the constabulary force received orders from the city marshals to assemble at five o'clock in the morning, and to take the stations appointed for them.

During the afternoon of Sunday groups of persons were congregated in different parts of the Old Bailey. Towards evening the crowds increased, and by midnight great numbers were assembled, who actually remained all night on the spot, in order to secure places near the scaffold on the following morning. The occupiers of houses, from the windows of which a view could be obtained of the execution, exhibited placards, announcing various prices for seats according to the proximity of the domicile to the spot, and though it was generally stipulated that such seats could not be kept for parties after six o'clock in the morning, they were eagerly sought for and secured at a guinea per seat and upwards. So much as ten guineas was given for a single window, and all these seats were occupied by those who had engaged them, at so early an hour as five o'clock, upon a cold, cheerless, and most uninviting morning. Shortly after midnight the gallows was brought from the yard, and the workmen proceeded to erect it in the usual place, opposite the debtors' door of Newgate. A large space around it was barricadoed to keep off the crowd, and the inside of that space was subsequently nearly filled by constables and marshalmen.

The crowd, as early as one o'clock, amounted to several thousand persons, and continued rapidly increasing. By five o'clock nearly two-thirds of the Old Bailey were filled with a dense mass of people. The continued buzz among the multitude at this time, the glare of light from the torches that were used for the purpose of enabling the workmen to proceed with their labours, and the terrific struggles among the crowd, altogether presented a scene which those who witnessed it will not soon forget. As the dawn of day approached, and with it the fatal hour that was to consign the wretched criminals to their well-merited fate, all the streets leading to the Old Bailey were thronged with people, chiefly of the working classes, hastening to the spot. Constant streams of population were pouring into the Old Bailey till they formed, around the scaffold and at the corner of every street from whence even a distant or a faint view could be obtained, a vast lake of life. Amongst the immense assemblage might be noticed several females, most of them of that _caste_ whose attendance on such an occasion might be naturally expected, but some of them, we regret to state, of a class that decency, if not humanity, should have kept away from a scene so revolting to those delicate sensibilities that generally characterize females.

When the fatal drop was stationed in its usual place, it was observed that three chains were suspended from it. As soon as Mr. Wontner, the governor of Newgate, heard of it, he ordered an officer to remove one of them, May having been respited. This was done, and although it was then dark, it was instantly communicated throughout the vast assemblage, and a general cry of 'May is respited' was uttered. The announcement did not seem to excite much surprise, although a few individuals expressed their disapprobation by yelling and hooting.

About half-past six o'clock a body of city police, amounting to about two hundred men, came up the Old Bailey, but the crowd was so dense at this time that it was found impossible for them to proceed to their station, which was at the foot of the gallows. After several ineffectual attempts to pass on, it was arranged that they should be allowed to go through the prison. Several persons seized this as a favourable opportunity, by presenting constables' staves, to pass themselves off as belonging to the police; but Mr. Browne, the marshal, suffered no one to pass whom he did not recognize either as belonging to the city police or as special constables. The pressure in the immediate neighbourhood of the scaffold was tremendous, in spite of the barriers; and many persons exhausted with fatigue, as early as seven o'clock, rescuing themselves with difficulty from the throng, were heard to exclaim, as they passed the outskirts of the mob, 'Thank God, I have got away!' Many who thus quitted the scene with torn clothes, and faces streaming with perspiration, had remained on the spot for hours. Indeed, the avenue from the house of Mr. Cotton, the ordinary, to the house of Mr. Wontner, the governor of Newgate, was so completely blocked up at an early hour, that Mr. Cotton, and another clergyman who accompanied him on his last visit to these unhappy convicts, were unable to force their way through the crowd, and could only obtain admittance into the prison by making a _detour_ to the other end of the Old Bailey, and by entering it through the iron railings around the New Court.

As day began to break we had an opportunity of surveying the crowd from the top of Newgate, and we should think that at that time there were not less than from thirty thousand to forty thousand persons assembled. The tops of the houses, lamp-posts, and every station from which the most distant view of the execution could be obtained, were by this time occupied. In fact, from one end of the Old Bailey to the other, was one dense mass; and the streets in the neighbourhood, although not a glance could be had of the platform or the proceedings, were, from an early hour, rendered impassable by the throng of persons hurrying towards the scene of execution. The assemblage was the largest that has ever been witnessed on an occasion of the kind, since the execution of Holloway and Haggarty, upwards of twenty years since, when some fourteen or fifteen persons were trampled to death in the crowd. The following fact will convey some idea of the extent and densely-congregated state of the crowd on Monday,--namely, that even so far as St. Sepulchre's church, in Skinner-street, several individuals, whose screams for relief had induced the people to raise them up, were passed over the heads of their neighbours for some dozen yards before they could obtain a resting-place.

Notwithstanding the many precautions taken by the city authorities to prevent accidents, we are sorry to say that several occurred; and though no lives were lost, we fear that some of the injuries that were sustained were of a very serious description. At the end of Giltspur-street, immediately opposite the Compter, a very heavy barrier was erected across the road for the purpose of counteracting the immense pressure of the mob, which in that direction extended to Smithfield. This barrier was fastened to two uprights, that were placed two feet in the ground, by iron hooping, which was by no means of sufficient strength for the immense weight of the timber to which it was attached. The consequence was, that at the moment the culprits were visible on the gallows, the barrier was forced down, and a number of persons of both sexes fell with it. The screams of the females, and the confusion that ensued, were truly alarming. One female of very respectable appearance, with her husband, were most dreadfully injured, the barrier having fallen upon their chests, and others of the mob pressing upon them. A city constable was also under the barrier, which rested on his abdomen, and his cries were most deplorable. In this dreadful situation did the sufferers remain for some minutes. A cry of 'Stand back; for God's sake, stand back!' was raised, but all was of no avail, and people in all directions were trampling upon each other.

At length some of the officers from the Compter came out, and with the assistance of several other officers, a space of ground was obtained, and the individuals were rescued from their perilous situation and carried to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, where they were promptly attended to by Mr. Birkett, the dresser to Mr. Vincent, the principal surgeon, who had been in attendance all night to receive any accident that might be brought in. Before nine o'clock, every bed in Colston-ward was occupied by persons who had been injured at the moment the barrier gave way, and many of them most seriously so.

As the hour of eight approached, the anxiety of the multitude became more intense, and every eye became directed towards the door through which the wretched criminals were to be led to the scaffold.

At half-past seven o'clock, the Sheriffs, accompanied by the Under-Sheriffs and several gentlemen to whom they had given permission to be present, entered the prison. The Sheriffs immediately proceeded to the condemned cells, where Mr. Wontner, the Governor, delivered the prisoners up to them for execution. The Sheriffs then proceeded to the Press-room, in which the strangers who had got admission to the prison were also admitted. The prisoners were soon after introduced by the Sheriffs' officers. Bishop entered first. That kind of stupor which we already noticed when the verdict of the jury was pronounced, was still more strongly upon him. He advanced in rather a drooping manner, his eye fixed on the ground. His step was slow without being firm, and his whole bearing was rather that of a man unconscious of, than of one indifferent to, the dreadful scene through which he was about to pass. He had got more than half way to the upper end of the room before he looked around; when he did, a kind of half-suppressed groan escaped him, as from one who was for a moment roused to a quick sense of an approaching violent death. But it was only for a moment, for at once he seemed to relapse into his former stupor: his eye was again bent on the ground, and he moved mechanically up to the officer, who stood ready to tie his hands, and stretched forth his arms, the wrists being closely pressed together. When that part of the preparation was concluded, he turned round and allowed his arms to be pinioned. This done, he took his seat at a side-bench without uttering a word. There were many persons in the room who seemed to think that this calm and quiet manner showed great firmness, but if they had seen him before, or watched him more closely, they would have perceived that there was nothing of real firmness in the man. His eye was sunk and heavy, and seemed to shrink from the gaze of those around him. It was for the most part fixed on the ground. One of the Under-Sheriffs took a seat by his side, and in a low tone asked him (we understood) whether he had anything more to confess. His answer was, 'No, Sir, I have told all.' The Under-Sheriff remained with him for a few moments, but the only answers we could hear from him were to the effect that he had nothing more to tell.

Williams was next introduced, and came up the room with the same short hasty step, which we noticed at the time of his sentence. Since then, however, his whole appearance had undergone the most terrible alteration. That cunning and flippant look, which we noticed in him on his trial, had left him, and had given place to a wild and frenzied stare. His look, as he entered the Press-room, was one of downright horror--every limb trembled as he approached the officer by whom he was to be pinioned, and his hands shook to that degree, that one person was obliged to hold them up while another bound the wrists together. While submitting to this operation, he frequently ejaculated, 'Oh, I have deserved all this, and more!--oh, I have deserved all that I am about to suffer!' One of the Under-Sheriffs now asked him whether he had anything more on his mind, or wished to make any further disclosure; he replied, 'Oh no, Sir, I have told all--I hope I am now at peace with God. What I have told is the truth.'

It was remarked that Bishop or Williams took no notice whatever of each other while they remained in the Press-room. Neither seemed to be conscious of the presence of the other, or to wish to avoid any recognition. The contrast in the manner of the two was very marked in this respect,--for Williams seemed relieved when any one addressed him, as if anxious to escape from his own thoughts, or to have his attention called off even for an instant, from the dreadful scene which approached him. Bishop, on the contrary, was sullen, and seemed rather desirous of avoiding any conversation. His answers, when addressed, were short, and delivered in a tone as if pained by any questions put to him.

After the operation of pinioning had been gone through, at a few minutes before eight, the Sheriffs, accompanied by their officers and the prisoners, proceeded towards the scaffold, the Ordinary reciting part of the funeral service. Bishop moved on in the same gloomy and desponding manner which we have already noticed. His appearance underwent no change as he approached to the foot of the scaffold. Williams became more and more agitated as he went on. Just as he came to the room which led out to the drop, he expressed a wish to see the Rev. Mr. Russell once more. That gentleman came forward, and while Bishop was led out, seated himself near him. Williams said something in a low tone, which we did not hear. Mr. Russell said to him, 'Now, Williams, you have but another moment intervening between you and death; and as a dying man I implore you, in God's name, to tell the truth. Have you told me the whole truth?'

WILLIAMS.--'All I have told you is true.'

Mr. RUSSELL.--'But, Williams, have you told me all?'

WILLIAMS (still evasive).--'All I have told you is quite true.'

This was the last remark he made, and in a few moments he ascended the scaffold.

We were glad to observe that the very absurd custom of the Sheriff taking leave and shaking hands with the prisoner was, in this instance, very properly dispensed with.

At eight o'clock the procession began to move from the press-room, and the appearance of the executioner and his assistant on the scaffold indicated that the last and awful ceremony was just at hand. A general cry of 'Hats off!' took place, and in an instant the immense multitude were all uncovered. Bishop was first conducted on the scaffold, and his appearance was the signal for the most tremendous groans, yells, and hootings, from all parts of the crowd. The wretched man came forward, apparently unmoved by the dreadful reception he experienced. The executioner proceeded at once to the performance of his duty, and having put the rope round his neck, and affixed it to the chain, placed him under the fatal beam. A terrific cheer from the crowd proclaimed their satisfaction at the completion of the preparations for his exit to the other world; but still, though placed on the brink of eternity, and about being launched into it, amidst the execrations of his fellow-creatures, the miserable criminal betrayed scarcely a symptom of fear. The same listless and sullen manner that had marked his conduct throughout appeared to be preserved by him to the last moment. Not a muscle seemed to be moved, not a limb shook, though he remained, during the awful interval of two minutes that elapsed before Williams was brought forward, exposed to the indignant hootings of the multitude. Williams next ascended the scaffold, on reaching which he bowed to the crowd, who returned his salutation with the most dreadful yells and groans. He appeared to labour under extreme anguish, and his demeanour altogether formed a complete contrast to that of his guilty associate. While the cap was being put over his eyes, and the rope adjusted by the executioner, his whole frame seemed convulsed by one universal tremour. The Rev. Mr. Cotton, having engaged the wretched men in prayer, in which Williams appeared to join fervently, wringing his hands and ejaculating aloud, gave the signal for the falling of the drop, when they were launched into eternity. Bishop appeared to die almost instantaneously, but Williams struggled for several minutes. The moment the drop fell, the crowd, which had been yelling all the time, set up a shout of exultation that was prolonged for some minutes.

Strangers who had been admitted were directed to retire, as the Sheriffs were going in to meet some friends at breakfast. We understand it is an old custom at Newgate, that the Sheriffs should entertain the Under-sheriffs, the Chaplain, and other friends at breakfast in the prison, on the occasion of an execution.

The bodies, having been suspended for the usual time, were cut down at nine o'clock. That operation was performed by the executioner, amidst the shouts and cheers of the crowd, which still continued very great.

Immediately after, a small cart drove up to the platform, and the bodies of the culprits were placed in it, covered with two sacks. The cart then moved on at a slow pace, followed by the Sheriffs and City Marshal, and a large body of constables, along Giltspur-street, to the house of Mr. Stone, No. 33, Hosier-lane, the vast crowd yelling, and making other discordant sounds as they proceeded. On reaching Mr. Stone's house, it was with great difficulty the bodies could be removed from the cart, the crowd appearing anxious to get possession of them. The bodies were placed on a table, and in the presence of the Sheriffs (in conformity with their duty) an incision was made in their chests, after which they withdrew.

The bodies were removed the same night--Bishop to the King's College, and Williams to St. Bartholomew's, to be dissected.

Some of the manufacturers of 'last dying speeches and confessions' had, as usual, provided a plentiful supply of those veracious sheets for the gratification of peripatetic curiosity, and, as usual, some of them were sold even before the execution took place; but, unfortunately, the speculative typo, not being aware that May had received a respite, included him among the dying penitents, and an _elegant_ wood-cut at the head of the paper represented the _three_ culprits dangling from the gallows.

In regard to the breakfast which is given by the sheriffs on the morning of an execution, we will venture to recommend to the Court of Aldermen to take into their consideration the abolition of this most unfeeling and disgraceful custom; for it is such circumstances as these, although apparently trifling in their nature, which throw us so far back in the scale of civilisation, and verify the remark of the French philosopher, who says, that the English are the most voracious people in Europe, whether it be a wedding, a funeral, or an execution, eating and drinking are the leading features of the scene. There is something actually revolting to the feelings in the idea, that whilst a human being is suffering the agonies of death on the scaffold, a number of functionaries should retire into a certain room, in which custom (which would be far more honoured in the breach than the observance) gives its sanction that they should be regaled with a sumptuous repast, and that they should only be obliged to rise from it when the summons arrives that it is time for the body of the unfortunate wretch to be cut down.