MikhailT/lj-speech huggingface dataset:
whence they let themselves down into the street by the rope.
These men were all in prison dress at the time of their escape, but one of their number, Bell, sent back his clothes a few days later by parcel's delivery,
with a civil note to the governor, saying he had no further use for them. All three fugitives were recaptured,
Brown almost at once; then Barry, who was taken at the East End in a public-house where he had arranged to meet a pal.
The Newgate officers obtained information of this, and went to the spot, where they effected the capture,
but not till they had had an exciting chase down the street.
The third, Bell, remained longest at large. He too was run into at a lodging in the Kingsland Road.
The officers dropped on to him while he was still in bed, but as they came upstairs he jumped up and hid in a cupboard.
All three after recapture passed on, as originally intended, to Leicester, where they did their "bit" and were released;
but only to be taken soon afterwards for a fresh offense, and again pass through Newgate with sentences of penal servitude.
A later case was still more remarkable, as it was effected after the alteration of the prison and its reconstruction on the newest lines.
A sailor, Krapps by name, occupied one of the upper cells in the new block.
The doors, through incomplete knowledge of prison needs, were not, as now, sheeted with iron.
The prisoner had nothing to deal with but wooden panels, and by dint of cutting and chopping he got both the lower panels out.
Through the aperture he crept out on to the landing at the dead of night, and so down into the central space of the building.
Under superior orders all the doors and gates of this block were left open at night, to allow the night watchman to pass freely to all parts.
This was considered safer than intrusting him with keys.
Krapps walked at once into the yard and across to the female side, where he found some of the washing still hanging out to dry.
He made a strong rope with several of the sheets; then, returning to the male yard,
got hold of the step ladder used in lighting the gas, and which under our more careful supervision would have been, as now-a-days, chained up.
Cutting the cord which fastened the two legs of the step ladder, he opened them out and made one long length;
with this, placed against the wall near the chevaux-de-frise, he made an escalade.
The top of the wall was gained without difficulty.
Along this Krapps crawled, and then dropped down on to the cook-house.
He now put in requisition the rope made of the sheets, and with its help lowered himself into the street.
Down below were market-carts waiting for daylight, and among them Krapps found a refuge and friends.
The first intimation of his escape was afforded by the police, who informed the prison authorities next day that a rope was hanging down from the cook-house roof.
Nothing more was heard of Krapps. The curious thing in his case was that his offense was a trifling one;
he was still untried, but would almost certainly have escaped with a minor penalty, say of three or four months' imprisonment.
There is, however, no explanation of the motives which prompt prisoners to attempt escapes.
Cases well authenticated have been known of men who had all but completed their sentences, and for whom the prison gates would open within a few days,
who yet faced extraordinary risks to advance their enlargement by only a few hours.
On the other hand, at the great convict establishments, such is the moral restraint of a systematic discipline,
that numbers of men, "lifers," and others with ten, fourteen, or twenty years to do, can be trusted to work out of doors without bolts and bars
at a distance from the prison.
The last escape from Newgate was only three years ago, and occurred just before the final closing of the prison.
No report of it was made public, as the man was almost immediately recaptured.
He was at work under the supervision of the artisan warder of the prison,
who permitted him to go up on to the roof of the old wards, in order to throw water for flushing purposes down a shoot.
He was out of sight while so employed, and remained so long absent that the warder, becoming uneasy, went in search of him.
He had disappeared.
Encouraged by the shouts and signals of some workmen employed on a building outside, the prisoner made one of the most marvellous jumps on record,
from the building he was on to a distant wall, with a drop of sixty feet between.
Then he ran along the coping of the wall towards its angle with Tyler's manufactory, and dropped down on to the gridiron below.
This was not strong enough to carry him, and he fell through.
Suicides and executions were, however, always the most effectual methods of making exit from durance.
Suicides at Newgate were numerous enough, but they seldom possessed any novel or unusual features;
prison suicides seldom do, except as regards ingenuity and determination.
Only great resolution indeed, persisted in to the bitter end,
would make death a certainty, so limited and imperfect are the means generally available.
When a bit of rope carefully secreted,
braces, shoe-strings, shirt torn into strips are the only instruments, and a bar or small hook
at no elevation affords the only drop, strangulation would seldom supervene but for the resolution of the miserable felo de se.
One curious instance of a suicide carried out under the most adverse and extraordinary circumstances may be quoted.
It was that of a "Long Firm" swindler, by name Johnson,
who contrived to hang himself from a hammock hook only eighteen inches from the ground.
The noose was one of his hammock straps, which he buckled round his throat.
Having carefully spread out a blanket on the floor just below the hammock as it lay suspended,
he fastened one end of the strap above mentioned to the hook, and then fell down.
He might have saved himself at any moment by merely extending an arm; but he lay there patiently till death supervened.
When discovered next morning, quite dead, it was found that the strap actually did not touch his throat;
three fingers might have been inserted between it and the flesh; the pressure was all on the arteries behind the ears,
and surgical opinion stated that the stoppage of circulation was the cause of death.
Probably dissolution came as easily and almost without pain.
A laudable desire to invest executions with more and more solemnity and decorum gained ground as they became more rare.
As more humane principles were introduced into prison management,
greater attention was paid to the capital convicts, and the horrors of their situation while awaiting sentence
were as far as possible mitigated and toned down. But there was little improvement in the ceremony itself.
There were still untoward accidents occasionally at executions, and even the chief practitioner of recent times, Calcraft,
was not always to be trusted to do his fell work efficiently.
Having mentioned Calcraft's name,
I may be permitted to digress for a moment to give a few particulars concerning the last officially appointed hangman of the city of London.
After Calcraft's resignation no successor was really appointed.
Marwood, whose name is so familiar with the present generation,
had no official status, and was merely an operator selected by the Corporation, and who, on the strength of it,
contracted with sheriffs and conveners to work by the job.
But Calcraft regularly succeeded Foxen, who followed Botting, and Dennis, the actor in the 1780 riots.
Calcraft was born at Baddow, in Essex, in 1800;
he was a shoemaker by trade, and settled in London after his marriage in 1825.
The story goes, that about 1828
his attention was drawn early one morning to a man who leant against a lamp-post in Finsbury Square, coughing violently.
Calcraft, who, in spite of the dreadful calling he subsequently followed, was always reputed a kindly man,
invited the man with the cough to enter a neighboring house and try a little peppermint for it.
The other accepted, and they got into conversation.
He told Calcraft that he was Foxen the executioner, and that he was that moment on his way to Newgate to hang a man,
but that his cough was getting so much the master of him that he feared he would not be able to carry on his duties much longer.
"I have no idea who the sheriffs will get to do the work after me," said Foxen, adding that his assistant, Tom Cheshire,
was given to drink, and not to be trusted.
"I think I could do that sort of job," said Calcraft, on the spur of the moment.
Foxen asked him his name and address, and went away.
Calcraft thought no more of what had occurred till the next sessions at the Old Bailey, when the sheriffs sent for him,
and offered him the post of executioner for the city of London and Middlesex.
He accepted, having at first Tom Cheshire as his assistant, then for a time, when Cheshire was dismissed for drunkenness, a man named Osborne.
After that he worked alone.
I cannot find that Calcraft was sworn in when appointed, or any exact information when the old forbidding ceremony ceased to be practiced.
It was customary to make the executioner take the Bible in his hand, and swear solemnly that he would dispatch every criminal condemned to die,
without favoring father or mother or any other relation or friend.
When he had taken the oath he was dismissed with the words, "Get thee hence, wretch!"
Calcraft's emoluments were a guinea per week, and an extra guinea for every execution.
He got besides half-a-crown for every man he flogged, and an allowance to provide cats or birch rods.
For acting as executioner of Horsemonger Lane Jail
he received a retaining fee of £5, 5 shillings, with the usual guinea for each job;
he was also at liberty to engage himself in the country, where he demanded and was paid £10 on each occasion.
It was not always easy to get a hangman so cheap, as I have already indicated on a previous page.
The onus and responsibility of carrying out the sentence is personal to the sheriff. A good story is told illustrating this.
Some wags in Scotland seized Calcraft and kept him in durance the night before the execution.
Meanwhile the convener or sheriff was in despair, expecting that, failing the executioner, he would have to do the job himself.
But, fortunately for him, just at the last moment Calcraft was set free.
Calcraft's salary was more than the proverbial "thirteenpence halfpenny -- hangman's wages."
The origin of this expression dates, it is said, from the time when the Scottish mark,
a silver coin bearing the same relation to the Scottish pound that an English shilling does to an English pound, was made to pass current in England.
The mark was valued at thirteenpence halfpenny, or rather more than the shilling, which from time immemorial had been the hangman's wages.
That very ancient perquisite the convict's clothes was never claimed by Calcraft, and it may be doubted whether he was entitled to it.
On one particular occasion, however, he got them. A gentleman whose sins brought him to the gallows at Maidstone
wished to do Calcraft a good turn, and sent to his London tailor for a complete new suit, in which he appeared at his execution.
He expressly bequeathed them to Calcraft, who was graciously pleased to accept them.
On another occasion an importunate person begged Calcraft eagerly to claim his right to the clothes, and give them to him.
Calcraft consented, got and bestowed the clothes, only to find that the person he had obliged exhibited them publicly.
It may be added that of late years the clothes in which a convict has suffered are invariably burnt.
Capital convicts go to the gallows in their own clothing, and not in prison dress, unless the former is quite unfit to be worn.
Calcraft shared the odium which his office, not strangely, has always inspired. But he was admitted into the jail,
which his predecessors were not, and who were paid their wages over the gate to obviate the necessity for letting them enter.
To this curious etiquette was due the appointment of an official whose office has long since disappeared, "the yeoman of the halter,"
whose business it was to provide the rope and do the pinioning, and who was paid a fee of five shillings.
They did not dislike Calcraft, however, at Newgate. He was an illiterate, simple-minded man, who scarcely remembered what executions he had performed.
He kept no record of them, and when asked questions, referred to the officers of the jail.
His nature must have been kindly.
When he came to the prison for his wages his grandchildren often accompanied him, affectionately clinging to his hands;
and he owned a pet pony which would follow him about like a dog.
In his own profession
he was not unskilful, but he proceeded entirely by rule of thumb, leaving the result very much to chance and the strength of the rope.
He was so much in favor of short drops that his immediate successor, Marwood, stigmatized him as "short-drop" man.
Marwood being, on the other hand, in favor of giving a man as much rope as possible.
With Calcraft's method there were undoubtedly many failures, and it was a common custom for him to go below the gallows
"just to steady their legs a little;" in other words, to add his weight to that of the hanging bodies.
Marwood till latterly seemed to have done his work more effectually, and has been known to give as much as six feet fall.
This generally produces instantaneous death, although cases where complete fracture of the spinal cord occurred are said to be rare.
Calcraft served the city of London till 1874, when he was pensioned at the rate of twenty-five shillings per week.
The last execution at which he acted was that of Godwin, on the 25th May, 1874.
Marwood, who succeeded him, and who died while these sheets were in the press, was a Lincolnshire man, a native of Horncastle,
who first took to the work from predilection, and the idea of being useful in his generation, as he himself assured the writer of these pages.
Until the time of his death he kept a small shop close to the church in Horncastle.
Over the door, in gilt letters, were the words "Crown Office"; in the window was a pile of official envelopes, ostentatiously displayed,
while round about were shoe-strings, boot-laces, and lasts. Marwood, strange to say, followed the same trade as Calcraft.
Marwood was proud of his calling, and when questioned as to whether his process was satisfactory, replied that he heard "no complaints."
The strange competition amongst hundreds to succeed Marwood is a strange fact too recently before the public to need mention here.
It may, however, be remarked that the wisdom of appointing any regular hangman is very open to question,
and must be strongly deprecated on moral grounds, as tending to the utter degradation of one individual.
Possibly such changes may be introduced into the method of execution
that the ceremony may be made more mechanical, thus rendering the personal intervention of a skilled functionary unnecessary.
Executions long continued to be in public, in spite of remonstrance and reprobation.
The old prejudices, such as that which enlisted Dr. Johnson on the side of the Tyburn procession, still lingered and prevented any change.
It was thought that capital punishment would lose its deterrent effect if it ceased to be public,
and the raison d'être of the penalty, which in principle so many opposed, would be gone.
This line of argument prevailed over the manifest horrors of the spectacle. These increased as time passed.
The graphic and terrible account given by Charles Dickens of the awful scene before Horsemonger Lane Jail, at the execution of the Mannings,
has already been quoted. Again, the concourse of people collected in front of Newgate to witness the execution,
simultaneously, of the five pirates, part of the mutinous crew of the 'Flowery Land,' was greater than on any previous occasion.
It was a callous, careless crowd of coarse-minded, semi-brutalized folk, who came to enjoy themselves.
Few, if any, showed any feeling of terror, none were impressed with the solemnity, or realized the warning which the sight conveyed.
The upturned faces of the eager spectators resembled those of the 'gods' at Drury Lane on Boxing Night;
the crowd had come to witness a popular and gratuitous public performance -- better than a prize-fight or a play.
No notion that they were assisting at a vindication of the law filled the minds of those present with dread.
On the contrary, the prevailing sentiment was one of satisfaction at the success of the spectacle.
The remarks heard amongst the crowd were of coarse approval.
The reply evinced equal satisfaction, and the speaker, with a profane oath, declared that he would like to act as Jack Ketch to the whole lot.
To the disgrace of the better-educated and better-bred public, executions could still command the attendance of curious aristocrats from the West End.
At Müller's execution there was great competition for front seats,
and the windows of the opposite houses, which commanded a good view, as usual fetched high prices.
As much as £25 was paid for a first-floor front on this occasion.
Never, indeed, had an execution been more generally patronized.
This is proved by contemporary accounts, especially one graphic and realistic article which appeared in the 'Times,'
and which contributed in no small degree to the introduction of private executions. A great crowd was expected, and a great crowd came.
They collected over night in the bright light of a November moon.
"There were well-dressed and ill-dressed, old men and lads, women and girls."
Rain fell heavily at intervals, but did not thin the concourse.
"Till three o'clock it was one long revelry of songs and laughter, shouting, and often quarreling, though,
to do them mere justice, there was at least till then a half-drunken ribald gaiety among the crowd that made them all akin."
There were preachers among the crowd, but they could not get a patient hearing.
Then one struck up the hymn of the Promised Land, and the refrain was at once taken up with a mighty chorus --
Oh, my! Think I've got to die.
This was presently superseded by a fresh catch --
"Müller, Müller, He's the man," till a diversion was created by the appearance of the gallows, which was received with continuous yells.
As day broke the character of the crowd was betrayed.
There were but few women, except of the most degraded sort; the men were mostly young men --
sharpers, thieves, gamblers, betting men, the outsiders of the boxing ring,
bricklayers' laborers, dock workmen, German artisans and sugar-bakers
with the rakings of cheap singing-halls and billiard-rooms, the fast young men of London.
But all, whether young or old, men or women, seemed to know nothing, feel nothing, to have no object but the gallows, and to laugh,
curse, or shout, as in this heaving and struggling forward they gained or lost in their strong efforts to get nearer where Müller was to die.
The actual execution made some impression.
The crowd was for a moment awed and stilled by the quiet rapid passage from life to death!
But before "the slight slow vibrations of the body had well ended,
robbery and violence, loud laughing, oaths, fighting, obscene conduct, and still more filthy language reigned round the gallows far and near.
Such too the scene remained with little change or respite till the old hangman (Calcraft) slunk again along the drop,
amid hisses and sneering inquiries of what he had had to drink that morning.
He, after failing once to cut the rope, made a second attempt more successfully, and the body of Müller disappeared from view.
It was preposterous to claim for such a scene as this that it conveyed any great moral lesson, or had any deterring influence.
Numbers of humane and thoughtful persons had long been convinced of this.
Already the urgent necessity for abolishing public executions had been brought before the House of Commons by Mr. Hibbert,
and the question, as part of the whole subject of capital punishment, had been referred to a royal commission in January 1864.
Full evidence was taken on all points, and on that regarding public executions there was a great preponderance of opinion towards their abolition,
yet the witnesses were not unanimous.
Some of the judges would have retained the public spectacle; the ordinary of Newgate was not certain that public executions were not the best.
Another distinguished witness feared
that any secrecy in the treatment of the condemned would invest them with a new and greater interest, which was much to be deprecated.
Foreign witnesses, too, were in favor of publicity.
On the other hand, Lords Cranworth and Wensleydale recommended private executions; so did Mr. Spencer Walpole, M.P.
Sir George Grey thought there was a growing feeling in favor of executions within the prison precincts.
Colonel (now Sir Edmund) Henderson was strongly in favor of them,
based on his experience of them in Western Australia. He not only thought them likely to be more deterrent,
but believed that a public ceremony destroyed the whole value of an execution.
Other officials, great lawyers, governors of prisons, and chaplains supported this view.
The only doubts expressed were as to the sufficiency of the safeguards, as to the certainty of death and its subsequent publication.
But these, it was thought, might be provided by the admission of the press and the holding of a coroner's inquest.
Duly impressed with the weight of evidence in favor of abolition,
the commission recommended that death sentences should be carried out within the jail, under such regulations as might be considered necessary
to prevent abuse, and satisfy the public that the law had been complied with.
But it is curious to note that there were several dissentients among the commissioners to this paragraph of the report.
The judge of the Admiralty Court, the Right Hon. Stephen Lushington, the Right Hon. James Moncrieff,
Lord Advocate, Mr. Charles Neate, Mr. William Ewart, and last, but not least, Mr. John Bright
declared that they were not prepared to agree to the resolution respecting private executions.
Nevertheless, in the very next session
a bill was introduced by Mr. Hibbert, M.P., and accepted by the Government, providing for the future carrying out of executions within prisons.
It was read for the first time in March 1866, but did not become law till 1868.
The last public execution in front of Newgate was that of the Fenian Michael Barrett,
who was convicted of complicity in the Clerkenwell explosion, intended to effect the release of Burke and Casey
from Clerkenwell prison, by which many persons lost their lives.
Unusual precautions were taken upon this occasion, as some fresh outrage was apprehended.
There was no interference with the crowd, which collected as usual, although not to the customary extent.
But Newgate and its neighborhood was carefully held by the police, both city and metropolitan.
In the houses opposite the prison numbers of detectives mixed with the spectators;
inside the jail was Colonel Frazer, the chief commissioner of the city police, and at no great distance, although in the background,
troops were held in readiness to act if required. Everything passed off quite quietly, however,
and Calcraft, who had been threatened with summary retribution if he executed Barrett, carried out the sentence without mishap.
The sufferer was stolid and reticent to the last.
The first private execution under the new law took place within the precincts of Maidstone Jail.
The sufferer was a porter on the London, Chatham, and Dover railway, sentenced to death for shooting the station-master at Dover.
The ceremony, which was witnessed by only a few officials and representatives of the press, was performed with the utmost decency and decorum.
a fact duly advertised as completed by the hoisting of the black flag over the jail,
had undoubtedly a solemn, impressive effect upon those outside.
The same was realized in the first private execution within Newgate,
that of Alexander Mackay, who murdered his mistress at Norton Folgate by beating her with a rolling-pin and furnace-rake,
and who expiated his crime on the 8th September, 1868.
A more marked change from the old scene can hardly be conceived. Instead of the roar of the brutalized crowd,
the officials spoke in whispers; there was but little moving to and fro.