The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1845-04-01 00:00:00

THE SALT-HILL MURDER.-EXECUTION

On Wednesday, John Tawell's wife and her daughter,
Miss Cutforth, together with the brother, Mr. W.
Tawell, arrived to take their final farewell. The prisoner
had prepared several memoranda for his wife. His
wishes were committed to paper with great method and
accuracy. Minute commissions were set down, and vari-
ous small and outstanding accounts were mentioned.
Upon this, as upon all former occasions he never alluded
to his crimes, nor in any of the numerous and long epis-
tles which he has addressed to his wife, and to others of
his family, has he mentioned the circumstances of the
murder. The subject is one which he has always avoided.
When pressed to reveal all that he knew concerning it,
he always answered, " I am not prepared, I am not pre-
pared," at the same time leaving an impression that
something iu the way of an explanation or a confession
would ultimately appear. _

Independently of any confession of the murder, some
extraordinary disclosures will be made relating to the fate
of John T swell.

The convict on Thursday passed a restless night, a cir-
cumstance which he attributes to having taken final leave
of his wife. Upon his being asked whether he was ac-
quainted with what would soon occur he said, "Yes, I
suppose to-morrow is the day ; I thought as much.
Well, I have no complaint to make."

At an early hour on Friday morning, about five o'clock,
the drop, from which the prisoner was to be suspended,
was arranged ; and even at that early hour there were
persons anxiously looking on. Every moment the crowd
was augmenting. There could not have been less than
between 4.000 and 5,000 persons present at the time of
the execution, and amongst them were several respectable-
looking females. Before the large window in front of the
gaol was a balcony. within which the drop was erected,
the lower part of which was curtained. There were pla-
cards carried about in several parts of the crowd, an-
nouncing, in large h.tters, " A Full Account of the Last
Moments of John Tawell," which could not fail to be
seen by the miserable man.

The hour announced for execution was eight o'clock,
but about a quarter of an hoar before eight a sudden
motion of the crowd showed that the moment had come
—the last fatal moment when the prisoner was to be
launched into eternity, to meet his Creator. It was an
awful moment, that movement of the crowd. The most
intense silence prevailed—not a word escaped after the
crowd had said "He is coming." The wretched ma
was greatly moved when he saw the crowd; he trembled
exceedingly, and was scarcely able to stand when he
stepped on the platform under the drop. Calcraft, the
executioner, and one of the turnkeys led him out of the
gaol ; and Mr. Sheriff, the governor, stood immediately
behind him. The nightcap having been immediately
drawn over him, be knelt down to pray, which he did
with the most apparent fervour. After he had been
praying for about a minute, or a minute and a half, he
was assisted to rise by Calcraft, who proceeded to place
the rope round his neck. Here, however, there seemed
to be an unnecessary delay, which might easily have
been avoided by a little forethought. There being no
chain from the cross beam from which to fix the other
end of the rope, a considerable time elapsed between
the rope being placed round his neck and the tying
it to the cross beam, at which considerable dissatis-
faction was manifested by the spectators. Calcraft
made two or three turns of the rope before it was
properly and firmly fixed to the beam. This performed,
the drop fell, and the wretched man became at once
violently convulsed and his whole frame quivered—his
arms and legs contracted—they fell again—were again
contracted—fell again, again contracted—and he hung a
motionless corpse, save that he oscillated to the motion
of the wind, which was blowing strongly at the time.
Probably five minutes elapsed between the appearance of
the criminal and his death. Some say more, some less;
but five minutes was about the time. From the first his
hands were tightly bound together, and he kept his fingers
locked in each other as if he still prayed, and had his
mind directed towards heaven in spite of his bodily suffer-
ing. It was expected that the wretched man would be
received with groans and execrations by the crowd, but
we are pleased to be able to say that no such disgraceful
proceedings took place. On the contrary, a most de-
corous and becoming silence was observed, and not a
word escaped to distract him in his last moments. This
conduct of the people is highly creditable to them, and
contrasts most favourably with the behavour of the
crowds who assemble at Newgate on similar occasions.
The body was allowed to hang for an hour, and was
then taken, but not cut down. He was executed in the
Quaker's dress. The body was immediately interred
in the precincts of the gaol, though up to Thursday night
his friends had hopes, from the strong applications that
were made on the subject, that his body would be delivered
up to them—the ge.ve, however, was dug two days ago.
To the governor of the gaol we are also indebted for the
knowledge of the fact that the wretched culprit made a
full confession of his guilt. It appears that he wrote his
confession some days ago. He made a request that his
statement might not be published, but he desired that the
purport of it should be made known. He confessed that
he poisoned Sarah Hart, and that he was also guilty of
having made the attempt upon her life in September last,
as suggested by the evidence for the prosecution at his
recent trial and conviction. He also declared that he was

April 1, 184.5.

cot le to the comissin of te crime ecunial
motives, but from them fearo that theh fact of his copnnecti,°l
with his unfortunate victim would come to the ears of "1
wife. We made an application to the Hey. Mr. CO t°
be allowed to copy the written confession, but the
gentleman, in compliance with the dying request of 01
unfortunate man, felt it his duty to refuse it. A refusa!
to a similar request was, we understand, given to the
under-sheriff by the chaplain. The rev. ordinary WO s°
deeply affected by the melancholy occurrence as to bel
altogether unable to speak in reference to it.