LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2026, 21 August 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THB WHISPER THROUGH THE DEATH - GAP. AN INCIDENT IN THB CAKEKB OF CALCRAJT, THE HANGMAN. During my residence in London of two years ago I was lucky enough to form the intimate acquaintance of the odd, shrinking, white-haired and white-bearded little man, who, na Calcraft the hangman, had become an object of'superstitious terror with English evil-doers, of morbid curiosity with the English public at large, and of bugaboo warning for naughty little English boys and girls. He was not only communicative, but good at story telling when his confidence was once thoroughly gained; and since his rather recent death several of his remarkable anecdotes concerning his exceptional experience among criminals have occurred to me.

I Mr Calcraft, what was the most extraordinary confetsion you ever obtained from the lipi of a man with a rope around bis neck ?' I once asked him, as we were sitting in a pretty arbor of the little flower garden in which he took so much delight and pride; indeed, it was tho congeniality of our botanical tastes that had given me the first opening iu his armor of reserve and taciturnity, which was close-jointed and queryproof to all the rest of the world. ' That of Jerry Blackwell, whom I hung at Nottingham upwards of fifteen years ago,' he replied, after a moment's reflection. 'lt happened in this way:—Jerry was under sentence of death for the murder of a young gipsy woman who had been his mistress, everything being oiearly proved against him at the trial, even before his confession of the crime, which followed in due course of time sooa after his conviction. Now, at the same time there lay in Nottingham gaol another prisoner nrmed Richard Wharton, a simple young Yorkshire farmer, who was under sentence of death—to ba carried into execution one week after tho disposition of Jerry's sentence—for a murder with which Jerry was supposed to have had something to do. but against whom insufficient proof had been offered in this respect. Young Wharton's case was a peoullar one. IHe was an orphan and a natural son, and his mother's father, a wealthy farmer in the neighborhood of Nottingham, by whom he had been reared and educated, had died a short time before. No will was found, though Richard was certain that one had been made, and the young fellow inherited nothing but his grandfather's old clothes, which had been given to him vei bally in the presence of witnesses.

Not only the farm, bat the old man's personal property, which amounted to over twenty thousand pounds in Consols and valuable Bank stock, besides a large sum of ready money, descended, in the absence of a will, to another and legitimate grandson, a small manufacturer of woollens—meansouled, avaricious and unprincipled, and whom the older Wharton had cordially detested when alive; while Dick, who had always home his mother's family name, had deservedly been his well-beloved, it had been generally thought would prove the heir of everything but the actual real estate by testamentary devisement. However, no will was forthcoming, as I have said ; and directly after the funeral Richard was notified to quit the farm without delay by the heir-at-law, who had hypocritically acted as chief mourner, thongb, of course, with nothing but secret rejoicing over the good turn that death had played him. The death of his grandfather, and the absence of a will had been a sad blow to the prospects of poor Dick, who, in addition to having always looked npon himself as the old man's heir, had beeu engaged to be married to Kitty Cripps, ono of the prettiest and most amiable lasses of the neighbourhood, but whose frugal parents made haste to break off the engagement as soon as it was discovered that her sweetheart would have nothing but the grandfather's old clothes for a patrimony. Nevertheless he promised Joshua Beak, the heir-at-law, to dispose at once of the articles that had been left to him, and to give him posession of the Oak Farm, aa it was called, on the following day. Late on the afternoon of the day of the funeral he sold the contents of the dead man's wardrobe, and some other little articles that he possessed, to one Levi, an itinerant Hebrew peddler, whom he afterwards accompanied down the road for a (short distanco, ao far as a disused mill upon the river bank, for the purpose, as he afterwards declared, of pointing out to him the by-road leading to Edgecombe, a little village to the north.

He then returned at about nightfall to the farm, where after bidding Kitty a laat and melancholy farewell in the presence of her mother, he set about packing up such poor traps as remained to him, with the intention of proceeding Liverpool on the following day, and thence taking |an emigrant's passage for New York. But at daybreak of next day the peddler was found murdered at the water's edge, just above the old mill, with his pockets turned inside cut, no sign ef the peddler's pack, and other indications of his having been foully dealt with for his money and goods. Young Wharton was also immediately arrested for the murder, and on his trial, which followed at the next assizes—the same at which Jerry Blackwell had, a few days before, been tried and convicted of the murder of his mistress—everything went dead against him. 'The line of the prosecution against Dick was very simple. It was to the effect that, after disposing of the old garments to the Jew, for which he had received a mere trifle, he must, have jhad his cupidity excited by perceiving a large turn of money and many valuables in the peddler's paaseasion, and then, under pretence of showing him the road, have murdered him in the dusk, rifled the body, and hidden away the pack, to be disposed of at some future time. ' Voung Wharton's defence was just as simple. lie freely acknowledged having accompanied the lew as far as the mill, bnt protested that he had left him there unharmed, after pointing out the byroad. Then, on his way buck to the farm, he averred that he had seen standing in the shadow of the mill, Jerry Blackwell, whom he had merely nodded to in passing, for there was no good feeling between the two, by reason of Blackwell having been a prior applicant for Kitty Cripp's hand, and summarily thrown overboard upon her learning of his having a mistress in another shire in the person of a gipsy girl whom he had just been convicted of subsequently murdering. Blackwell had been a poacher, gamester and vagabond, and his character was generally infamous throughout the country side. It was, therefore, argued by Dick's counsel that he (Blackwell) was more probab'y the peddler's assassin, and that a clean-breasted confession from him would clear his client.

This, however, Jerry did not dream of doing, and, as the law already had him under sentence of death for a previous crime, it was not very earnest in a desire to saddle him with the other murder. "With tho exception of Beak, the heir-at-law, who implacably pursued him down by word, act and influence, young Wharton had almost universal 85mpathy on his side; it was believed that he had spoken the truth, that Blackwell had really murdered the Jew, and only abstained from confession out of jealous hate of the rival who had supplanted him in pretty Kitty's favor, and whom he wou'd, therefore, too willingly have as his successor upon the fatal scaffold; but, in spite of Vkharton's excellent characteraud sweetness of disposition, in spite of his sweetheart's tears, hia friends indignation and everything else, the jury took a different view of It, tho Lord Jastice's charge bore heavily against him. and he was found guilty and sentences to be hanged one week after the morning fixed for Blackwell's execution.

Well, on the evening proceeding the latter event I had hardly been up an hour from London, aud after my preliminary visit to the condemned msn in his cell, was just finishing my supper in a private room in the Nottingham Arms, an old tavern not far from the prison, when I received a visit from Mr Skagget, who had been poor Dick's counsel throughout tho trial, which had closed with his conviction and sentence three or four days before, and who had still incessantly and conscientiously interested himself in the case

• Calcraft,' said he, with much painfully suppressed excitement of manner, ' yoa understand how the case stands with my unfortunate olient, Richard Wharton, do you not V

'Easily enough,' I replied, 'since the whole town and country are talking of little else.'

I Well,' said he, ' his only remaining hope is in your obtaining a dying confession from Black well as to his mnrder of the peddler. Otherwise poor Dick must likewise swing ; and I swear to yon, as a man and a Christian, that I believe him to be as innocent as a babe unborn,'

' So do I, from what I hear of it.' said_ I, impressed in Bpite of me by the solemnity and truthfulness of his manner; ' but what moro can there be done ? I have just quitted the condemned cell, and a more scoffing, hardened, heathenish rascal than this fellow Blackwell I never did executioner's duty upon. He as much as acknowledged to me that a timely whisper from his lips could save Wharton's neck, but swore laughingly that he would stand hanging fifty times, and be drawn and quartered into the bargain, before he would breathe an exculpatory word. He laughed derisively as he described how the sweetheart and you had already repeatedly supplicated him to a confession, and treated my own exhortations to the same effect with no better respect. He swears that he will die happy, in the consciousness that Dick Wharton, who cheated him out of his lass, will follow him at the r>pe's end in a brief week's time.' ' I know his incorrigible wickedness, said the lawyer, with a sors of groan. ' Why do you come to me then ?' I said, a little feverishly, for I had caught the contagion of hia miserable feeling. 'lf the old customs of judicial torture were in vogue, I confess I would apply its instruments to that hardened devil's body with the utmost cheerfulness. But as it is what can I do ? '

' Merely try to move him once more whe you have the halter about his throat—it is the only remaining chance.' 'Of course I shall not fail to take advantage of it,' said I ; ' but I have small hopes of success.

'ls there no way ?' he asked, after a troubled pause, 'by which you could lengthen out the horrors of to-morrow's execution, so as to increaEe the chance of his speaking out ?' This was rather a startling proposition, and one which, under other circnmstances, I would have indignantly repelled, but, as it was, I weighed the matter very carefully in my mind for some moments, after which I told him I would see what could be done. He thnnked me warmly, and before quitting me said:

'Ky the way, Calcraft, at the very last instant, and when all your other means have failed, whisper tbis word in the condemned man's ear: "Remember yonr oath in the moonlight by the broken stile, two years ago—your oath to Kitty in the gipsy dialect : Reeta cum guadvrovio." ' 'What does that mean?' I asked, as I made a memorandum of the words he quoted on a slip of paper. 'I don't know,' he replied; 'but the girl Kitty Cripps, who was perhaps fond of the fellow before she met Wharton, thinks that they may have some effect upon him at the very last moment.' 1 again assured him that I would do my best to obtain the confession, and he left me.

I then hurried to yard to inspect the gallows, which was in the course of erection at my former visit, and after examining and secretly making certain alterations in the shooting of the bolt by which the trap waa dropped from under the victim's foet, returned to the tavern and went to bed.

On the following morning, at nine o'clock, when I led the prisoner out upon the scaffold, followed by the governor of the gaol and a olergyman, the weather was bitter cold, though sunshiny, and the inclcsed space surrounding ns was packed with privileged spectators, the custom of public execution having been abolished in the northern counties several years before. The prisoner's manner was still mocking and defiant, but I thought I detected a under current beneath hia bravado, which gave me some hope. He listened to the reading of his death-warrant in contemptuous ailence, angrily waved aside the clergyman when the latter for the last time sought to soften his heart to repentance, and then, at the customary signal from the Bheriff. who stood sword in hand at the prison-door from which we had emerged, I placed him upon the trap, adjusted the noose, and looked him steadily and solemnly in the eye as I slowly drew the black nightcap down over his blanching face. 'Jerry Blaokwell,' I said in a low voice, as I gave one of his pinioned arms a parting pressure and placed my foot on the springbolt in the soaffoldiag connected with the death-trap upon which he was standing, ' this is your last chance of clearing an innocent fellow-creature by an open confession of yonr own. Tou are about to be launched into eternity. Will yon speak ?' Hia only answer was an impatient blasphemous curse through the nightcap, and I touched the spring with my foot. The trap gave way, but with a result that called forth a cry of horror from the specta. tors. Instead of falling through to the bottom of the scaffold, it caught upon a jutting beam-edge, just three feet below the flooring, bringing the victim up with a sharp but not dangerous tug under the ear, and then dropping him over against one of the uprights limp as a rag and trembling like a leaf.

Of course I had arranged this beforehand) but lat once began to ourse the villainous carpentering of the prison authorities, and seizing my man by the shoulders, dragged him out of the hole, while two or three fellows darted upon and under tho scaffold to repair the mischief. Both the sheriff and the governor of the prison were intensely mortified, and you can imagine the general excitement that enßued; but in leas than three rr.inutes everything was again in readiness", with the prisoner once more in a position on the trap, my hand upon his pinioned arm, and the fatal knot readjusted behind his nook. He was breathing nard and trembling violently; but his only answor was another muttered curse, when I again besought him to confess, after hurriedly acologising for tho mishap. Then I remembered what Wharton's counsel had suggested, and in a deep, solemn voice, I murmured into bis shrouded ear—

' Remember your oath in the moonlight, by the broken stile, two years ago—your oath to Kitty in the gipsy dialect— lleeta cum guadaroma. Speak, and relieve an innooent man, or die with a fresh murder on your eoul !' A sudden convulsive shudder shook his fettered frame; then 1 Baw him bite the black nightcap between his clenched teeth, and I heard him gnash out through its folds, in a spasmodic jerky voice, as though every word were being wrenched from his agonised heart —

' I killed the peddler, at the instance of Josh Beak, and with his assistance. Ee thought to find and destroy the missing will among the old man's clothe?, which the Jew had just purchased at the farm, but at the last moment, we buried everything at the foot of the yew tree, three yards from where the murder was committed, without making the examination. You will find everthing buried there, together with the proofs of Beak's guilt. Hurry up for God's sake ! ' The words of this vital and timely confession reached my ears alone. The instant afterwards I onco more pressed the spring. There was no mishap this time, the prironer's neck being effectually broken by the unimpeded fall. To make a long story short, I at once soaght Mr Skaggett, and communicated the information I had received through the death-cap. The peddler's effects were found buried at tho foot of the yew tree, together with evidences fully incriminating Joshua Beak, tho heir at-law, who wa3 arretted without delay. Pie was tried and convicted at the next assizes, afterwards confessed his participation in the murder, and was in due time executed.

Young Wharton waß at once set at liberty, and his innocence fully established. Ncr was thia all. Sewed up in the ■waistband of an old pair of trousers, unearthed among the other articles of the buried pack, was found the missing will, duly witnessed and attested, by which the Illegitimate grandson was made heir of all his grandfather's possessions, with the single exception of the little farm itself.

However, Riehard Wharton was well able to buy this back from the distant relative to whom it had descended ; and ha lives on it to this day, with Kitty, whom he married soon afterwards, and a numerous family of children, rioh, prosperous, ind respected. I never go to tho neighborhood of Nottingham without obeying a standing Invitation to visit them.

' Bat did yon never learn'the signification of the calabistic words that had such an effect upon the obdurate criminal at the last moment ?' I asked.

'Never,' was the smiling reply of England's famous hangman. ' I suppose it was some terrible promise he had given to his whilom sweetheart in the gipsy dialect in their moonlight sparking days; bat I always had too good manners to ask an explanation of her. I only know that that was the only instance in which I consented to purposely bungle an execution ; and I fancy, everything considered, I was justified by the circnmstances.'