Irish Catholic Chronicle And People's News of the Week Dublin, Ireland Saturday, 30 November 1867 NIGHT - THE STREETS About ten o'clock large crowds began to gather in the streets immediately in the neighbourhood of the scaffold, but the outer barrier arrested all further progress, and then these Englishmen sat down. The peculiar characteristic of the nation was fully displayed by the lively disputes concerning the purchase of hot potatoes which were being cooked in enormous quantities by machines resembling fire-engines. Around these were squatted those chattering, swearing, obscene; but eating assemblages to be found nowhere but in England. Wrangles and jokes were settled and laughed at, and politics and Fenianism warmly and energetically discussed. Cans of beer and lumps of cheese; hot potatoes and squares of bacon; steaming pies and odorous onions- hodge-podges of marvellous and heterogeneous confusion were discussed and consumed with a gusto that only the eve of an execution can bring to the enlightened Englishman. Females sat in these gatherings, and joined in these disgusting festivals as confidently as if that were the scene for woman. Young lads and girls sported in high glee in front of the glaring gas jet that told of the beer-cellar and youthful lips rang out the ready oath that spoke the culture of degraded parents. A strong contrast was found in the stolid, stupid, besotted mass that leaned against the barricade; it stirred not, breathed not, spoke not- but patiently awaited the chance of improving their position, and with unruffled and bovine quiet, stayed out the weary night to witness the strangulation of three human beings. Just before the barricade a wall of policemen prevented the possibility of entrance. Those who had tickets forced a difficult way through the crowd that hoarsely shouted in reckless blasphemy, or roared a line of drunken song, or warmly disputed the possession of food, or hotly quarrelled for the right to drink, and were then blocked by that immovable barrier of stolid savages through whose compact gathering passage was impossible. It was pleasant - if one could be pleasant then - to know that "the mere Irish" were not of these brawlers, that the never failing charge of riotous uproar must this night be laid to the account of the uncouth sons of Lancashire. I learned on inquiry that the Catholic clergy had inculcated peace and moderation to their people and especially requested them to absent themselves from Salford and its neighbourhood during the night of the execution. This commendable injunction was strictly obeyed and there was no Irish element in the motley crew whose ugly shadow was thrown in grotesque outline across the feebly lighted streets. At last I made my way to the Albert Hotel, a house standing almost fifty yards from the scaffold on the opposite street. I had learned that 'the fourth estate,' was there and there only; and soon I found myself in presence of some fifty press-men from every port of the United Kingdom. At intervals during the night we dropped out in couples to see the streets, but there was a general cluster when a Manchester gentleman brought in a copy of an anonymous letter which had been received by Calcraft, with the pithily illiterate rejoinder of that worthy man! - "If you hang any of the gentlemen condemned to death at the New Bailey Prison, it will be worse for you; you will not survive afterwards." Calcraft immediately sent the note to the visiting justices of the jails, with this comment - " I have received the enclosed letter. It seems a serious job. I hope you will look after it that I shall get home safe again." It seems that the executioner was in some say worried; and in truth if preparation could ease his mind, he must have been content. About twelve o'clock the police entered every house, and took the name and address of all persons who did not permanently reside therein. It is rather lucky Mr. Calcraft was not shot, or else we might all have been put on trial on the capital charge in that "constructive" spirit which marks the administration of recent law. About two o'clock the fog was dense and bitterly cold. An hour later; vocalism became popular, and the ringing tones of "John Brown" from a hundred throats pierced the thick "blanket" of the night." And thus, in eating, and drinking, and singing, and dancing ,and talking, and swearing, and marching, did these Englishmen hail the morn whose first light heralded coming and certain death to three men hard-by. There is little to add respecting the prison life of the condemned. Clinging to hope at first, they believed for some days after sentence was passed that they would not be hanged. The assurances which they received from without, however, dispelled this feeling a few days ago, and since Wednesday the men have been fully resigned to their fate. The parting interviews of Allen and Larkin with their friends took place on Friday; and after their final severance from earthly ties, the doomed men devoted themselves with increased fervour to their religious duties. They were locked up at the usual hour - about half-past six o'clock. Strange as it may appear; the three men, standing on the brink of the grave, about to suffer an ignominious death, slept as soundly as had been their wont. At a quarter to five o'clock on Saturday morning, Mr. Holt, the warder in charge, went to their cells and awoke them. The priests in attendance, the Rev. Canon Cantwell and the Rev. Fathers Quick and Gadd, celebrated mass at half-past five, and administered the holy communion. After partaking of the sacred rite, the convicts spent their time in prayer until nearly seven o'clock, when they breakfasted. The last preparations were then begun. At twelve minutes to eight o'clock, the executioner and his assistant, Armstrong, were introduced into the cell in which the convicts were placed, and the process of pinioning their arms was gone through. The priests stood by the side of the unhappy men, administering the consolations of religion, and exhorting them to firmness to meet the last dread ordeal. The convicts at this time manifested a remarkable fortitude. Not one of them flinched in the least. They had severally expressed an intention to address the crowd from the scaffold, but at the urgent entreaty of the priests they abandoned that intention. At a quarter to eight o'clock the interior court of the gaol presented a strange and striking spectacle. Behind the wall in New Bailey-street was erected the long staircase leading to the scaffold, and by the side were platforms for the tise of the military. The fog was so dense that objects could be but faintly distinguished at a distance of thirty yards. Suddenly the worlds of military command were heard and a company of the 72nd Highlanders marched round the Roundhouse and took up a position in line of the foot of the staircase. Simultaneously small detachments of the same regiment ascended to the platform, and crouched there, with their loaded rifles slightly projecting over the prison wall. At almost the same moment the heads of a line of soldiers arose above the parapet of the railway viaduct. A line of warders was formed in the gaol court. The sentries on duty ceased their walk; magistrates and reporters stood aside, and a dead silence prevailed for a few moments, as a signal was given from the corner of the Roundhouse. At three minutes past eight o'clock the solemn voice of a minister repeating the litany of the Roman Catholic Church was heard; and the head of the procession became visible through a thick fog, about thirty yards from the foot of the staircase. The Rev. Cantwell walked first, by the side of Allen. The convict was deadly pale; his eyes wandered alternately from the priest to the individuals standing round and then he uplifted his gaze in a vain endeavour to pierce the dense canopy which hung above him. He walked with a tolerably steady step, and uttered the response, "Lord, have mercy upon us." in a firm voice. As he ascended the staircase he seemed to summon all his courage, and he succeeded so far as to be able to confront the crowd with an unshrinking countenance. Next to him came Larkin, in whose appearance confinement and anxiety of mind had wrought a striking change. He walked with difficulty and required the support of the warders as he mounted the staircase. He seemed to join mechanically in the responses; and as he neared the head of the stirs he gave one hasty glance at the black beams overhead and seemed about to faint. Gould was the last, and he met hi fate firmly. Joining in the responses with a steady voice, and keeping his eyes upward, after one glance at the group assembled below, he mounted the steps without hesitation and took his place upon the drop. ...to be continued... Cathy Joynt Labath Ireland Old News http://www.IrelandOldNews.com/