The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1895-01-06

previously decided. ! will let you know
the hour. Here" he added, drawing
from his pocket a little book ard from
this book slip of paper signed by the
sheriff
He asked me to read it.
They have put DIR. before your
name, he went on. because I told
them you were doctor who wanted to
see the man hanged for some scientific
purpose
ITO see the man hanged" i repeated
to myself, mechanically, when the hotel
keeper had left me and / was once
more alone in the middle Of the hall,
holding in my hand this strange free
ticket. And then the recollection of
what 1T meant returned to me. 1
crushed UP the slip of paper and flung
1t on the floor in one of the corners of
the public promenade in order to put
an irreparable distance between the
temptation to be present at the hanging
and the voice in me which said: You
ought not to co. And an hour later /
redescended from my room to pick UP
the paper, which / found, happily or
unhappily, and which / smoothed out
into presentable form. From that mo-
ment [ felt the temptation was too
strong, that / must be present at that
death.
Probably every cultivated person who
has had the terrible fancy to assist at
a capital execution has suffered from
the same nervous emotion which as
sailed me during the following hours.
1t is a feeling made up of very COM
pick sentiments A deep pity in the
first place for the unfortunate wretch
whose agony is to serve as a spectacle
to us. and a remorse for going there as
to spectacle, torturing anxiety
, caused by the thought Of the probably
dreadful nature of the sight, and kind
| of curiosity. very human curiosity.
which l dare say is, after all, perhaps
| of a very noble order. The mystery of
| death, that of responsibility, that of
| social right are all hidden behind this
execution. One sees these three re-
| EQUITABLE mysteries face to face; no
| longer in cold printed words. but in
| flesh and in blood. There then passes
through your inner being shudder
! such as is felt at the approach of all
| irreparable things in this life.
At any rate / can affirm that I felt
| thus as l took the road on Thursday at
| half past II toward the prison. The
| execution was fixed for o'clock The
| day was as bright, pure as spring
! like as the other afternoon The sun
| sembled round the wooden fence, in the
| center of which was erected the prison.
| pressed against the palisade to get
| little shade. This retreat of the people
rendered still more sinister the solitari-
| ness of carriage standing in the mid
| die OF the road, carrying perfectly new
| coffin The cover was raised upon very
long nails half driven through, leaving
/
| But who in that chattering, gay
| crowd thought of regarding that vehicle
| and that bier? The two hundred per-
| sons or Whereabouts who were there al
| most all negroes, apparently considered
| death with all the careless philosophy
| natural to their race. There rose from
| among them a conversation without any
| disturbance, while an easy good humor
| prevailed without any of the repugnant
| Mysteries that are seen in the neigh
| borhood of La Roquette These men,
| these women. had all known Seymour
| They came there without any idea of
| being admitted into the interior, just
| as one goes to ask about some one who
| is dying, with that desire to know when
| and how the thing finished which is
| so natural so instructive that one can
| easily forgive it's ingenious ferocity.
The only witticism that I heard dur
| ing the five minutes / remained there
| after / had sent in my card with the
| permit of the sheriff was of very inno-
| cent order. The guardian who called
| me to enter accompanied my name with
| the title of doctor. which had been con-
| ferred upon me by Mr.. Williams.
! Poor Henry said young man, ''he
| has good need of a doctor now.
Between the fence and the prison,
commonplace red brick building,
| stretched an open space planted with
| grass, though quite bare at this mo-
| ment. Three cows were pasturing
there, and two little boys were playing.
| Such scrap of daily existence that
| one would not remark upon an ordinary
| occasion is always sinister when a
| drama is placed in close iuXtaposition.
| But was it really a drama? The aspect
! of the room in which l entered upon
the ground floor of the prison gave me
| some doubts. Five or six white men
| were smoking and chatting as peace
| ably as if the gallows was not there
| erected in little inside courtyard and
| visible from the window. The thick
x.,,<l
| motionless from transverse beam.
| These personages didn't even regard it.
| He to whom / spoke in order to learn
| the exact hour of the execution said in
reply. "A quarter to 2" with the same
| accent of perfect Indifference that he
would have used in announcing the de-
! parture of a train.
| but why that hour rather than an
| other?" I demanded.
| ."The condemned man wished 1T to be
| So replied the man. He was given the
choice of any hour from O'Clock in the
morning until o'clock in the after
| noon He selected a quarter to so as
| to have time to finish his lunch.
His lunch" L cried why, he can
| not have the COURAGE to, swallow a
| mouthful."
ooh, he's got plenty of nerve" said
| another of the smokers. you've only
to go upstairs You'll see for yourself
that he's breakfasting with as much
appetite as you or I. The sheriff has
| just taken the dishes to him, not five
| minutes ago
My two interlocutors were not mis-
| taken When / had mounted the thirty
| steps which led to the upper floor and
| [ found myself before Seymour's cell /
| saw him through the iicn bars lying in
| the corner, his right eye vet bandaged
| with the same cloth that the Colonel
| had wound round it. and taking from
| the hands of an old man a plateful of
fried fish, another plate full of cake and
| a bottle.
The old man who carried his food to
| him thus was the same who would
| hang him in short time, the first
| magistrate of the town and also the
executioner. His strong. hard face was
covered with a skin that wrinkled at
the neck in ridges almost as hard as
horn. His rudy hue, his large blue
| eyes, his hair, still red although whiten-
| ing. were contrasted in the most strik-
ing manner with the tanned face. the
| long undulating locks and the black
| eyes of the mullato, just as his simple
| dignity was contrasted with kind of
jeering suppleness that Seymour kept