JOHN BISHOP, AND THOMAS WILLIAMS. EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF AN ITALIAN BOY. (continued 2)

At half-past seven o’clock, the sheriffs, accompanied by the under-sheriffs, and several gentlemen to whom they had given permission to be present, entered the prison. The sheriffs immediately proceeded to the condemned cells, where Mr. Wontner, the governor, delivered the prisoners up to them for execution. The sheriffs then proceeded to the press-room, to which the strangers who had obtained admission to the prison were also admitted. The prisoners were soon after introduced by the sheriffs’ officers. Bishop entered first. That kind of stupor which had been noticed when the verdict of the jury was pronounced, was still more strongly upon him. He advanced in rather a drooping manner, his eye fixed on the ground. His step was slow, without being firm, and his whole bearing was rather that of a man unconscious of, than indifferent to, the dreadful scene through which he was about to pass. He had got more than half-way to the upper end of the room before he looked around; when he did, a kind of half-suppressed groan escaped him, as from one who was, for a moment, roused to a quick sense of an approaching violent death.

But it was only for a moment; for at once he seemed to relapse into his former stupor: his eye was again bent on the ground, and he moved mechanically up to the officer, who stood ready to tie his hands, and stretched forth his arms, the wrists being closely pressed together. When that part of the preparation was concluded, he turned round, and allowed his arms to be pinioned. This done, he took his seat at a side bench without uttering a word. One of the under-sheriffs took a seat by his side, and, in a low tone, asked him whether he had anything more to confess. His answer was, “No, sir, I have told all.” The under-sheriff remained with him for a few moments, but the only answers which could be obtained from him were to the effect that he had nothing more to tell.

Williams was next introduced, and came up the room with the same short hasty step which was noticed at the time of his sentence. Since then, however, his whole appearance had undergone the most terrible alteration. That cunning and flippant air which was noticed in him on his trial had left him. His look, as he entered the press-room on Monday, was one of downright horror—every limb trembled as he approached the officer by whom he was to be pinioned, and his hands shook to that degree, that one person was obliged to hold them up while another bound them together. While submitting to this operation, he frequently ejaculated, “Oh, I have deserved all this and more!—oh, I have deserved all I am about to suffer!” One of the under-sheriffs now asked him whether he had anything more on his mind, or wished to make any further disclosure. He replied, “Oh no, sir, I have told all—I hope I am now at peace with God. What I have told is the truth.”

After the operation of pinioning had been gone through, at a few minutes before eight, the sheriffs, accompanied by their officers and the prisoners, proceeded towards the scaffold, the ordinary reciting part of the funeral service. Bishop moved on in the same gloomy and desponding manner which we have noticed. His appearance underwent no change as he approached the foot of the scaffold. Williams became more and more agitated as he advanced. Just as he came to the room which led out to the drop, he expressed a wish to see the Rev. Mr. Russell once more. That gentleman came forward, and while Bishop was being led out, seated himself near him. Mr. Russell said to him, “Now, Williams, you have another moment intervening between this and death; and, as a dying man, I implore you, in God’s name, to tell the truth; have you told me the whole truth?” Williams: “All I have told you, is true.” Mr. Russell: ‘But, Williams, have you told me all?” Williams, (still evasive): “All I have told you is quite true.” This was the last remark he made, and in a few moments he ascended the scaffold.

The scene without the prison was no less exciting than that which was passing within the jail.

The execution of these wretched and atrocious criminals attracted, as might have been expected, an immense assemblage to the spot, and every possible preparation had been made by the civil authorities for the purpose of mitigating the pressure of the anticipated crowd. The crowd, as early as one o’clock in the morning, had amounted to several thousand persons, and continued rapidly increasing. By five o’clock nearly two-thirds of the Old Bailey were filled with a dense mass of people. The continued buz among the multitude at this time, the glare of light from the torches that were used for the purpose of enabling the workmen to proceed with their labours, and the terrific struggles among the crowd, altogether presented a scene which those who witnessed it will not soon forget. When the fatal drop was stationed in its usual place, it was observed that three chains were suspended from it. As soon as Mr. Wontner, the governor of Newgate, heard of it, he ordered an officer to remove one of them, in consequence of May having been respited. This was done; and, although it was then dark, it was instantly communicated throughout the vast assemblage, and a general cry of “May is respited!” was uttered.

At daybreak there were not less than from thirty thousand to forty thousand persons assembled. The tops of the houses, lamp-posts, and every station from which the most distant view of the execution could be obtained was occupied. In fact, from one end of the Old Bailey to the other was one dense mass; and the streets in the neighbourhood, although not a glance could be had of the platform or the proceedings, were, from an early hour, rendered impassable by the throng of persons hurrying towards the scene of execution. The assemblage was the largest that had ever been witnessed on an occasion of the kind since the execution of Holloway and Haggerty, upwards of twenty years before. Notwithstanding the precautions taken by the city authorities to prevent accidents, several occurred. At the end of Giltspur-street, immediately opposite the Compter, a very heavy barrier was erected across the road, for the purpose of counteracting the immense pressure of the mob, which in that direction extended to Smithfield. This barrier was fastened to two uprights, that were placed two feet in the ground, by iron hooping, which was by no means of sufficient strength for the immense weight of the timber to which it was attached. The consequence was, that at the moment the culprits were visible on the gallows, the barrier was forced down, and a number of persons of both sexes fell with it. The screams of the females, and the confusion that ensued, was truly alarming. Several persons were carried to the hospital, but no life was lost.

As the hour of eight approached, the anxiety of the multitude became most intense; and every eye appeared directed towards the door through which the wretched criminals were to be led to the scaffold.

At eight o’clock the procession began to move from the Press-room, and the appearance of the executioner and his assistant on the scaffold indicated that the last awful ceremony was just at hand. A general cry of “Hats off!” took place, and in an instant the immense multitude were all uncovered. Bishop was first conducted on the scaffold, and his appearance was the signal for the most tremendous groans, yells, and hootings from all parts of the crowd. The wretched man came forward apparently unmoved by the dreadful reception he experienced. The executioner proceeded at once to the performance of his duty; and having put the rope round his neck, and fixed it to the chain, placed him under the fatal beam. A terrific cheer from the crowd proclaimed their satisfaction at the completion of the preparation for his exit to the other world; but still, though placed on the brink of eternity, and about to be launched into it amidst the execrations of his fellow-creatures, the miserable criminal betrayed scarce a symptom of fear. The same listless and sullen manner that had marked his conduct throughout appeared to be preserved by him to the last moment. Not a muscle seemed to be moved, not a limb to shake, though he remained, during the awful interval of two minutes that elapsed before Williams was brought forward, exposed to the indignant hootings of the multitude.

Williams next ascended the scaffold, on reaching which he bowed to the crowd, who returned his salutation with the most dreadful yells and groans. He appeared to labour under extreme anguish, and his demeanour altogether formed a complete contrast to that of his guilty associate. While the cap was being put over his eyes, and the rope adjusted by the executioner, his whole frame seemed convulsed by a universal tremor. The Rev. Mr. Cotton, having engaged the wretched men in prayer—in which Williams appeared to join fervently, wringing his hands and ejaculating aloud—gave the signal for the falling of the drop, when they were launched into eternity. Bishop appeared to die almost instantaneously, but Williams struggled for several minutes. The moment the drop fell, the crowd, which had been yelling all the time, set up a shout of exultation that was prolonged for several minutes.

The bodies having been suspended for the usual time, were cut down at nine o’clock. That operation was performed by the executioner amidst the shouts and cheers of the crowd, which still continued very great.

Immediately after a small cart drove up to the platform, and the bodies of the culprits were placed in it, covered with two sacks. The cart then moved on at a slow pace, followed by the sheriffs and city-marshal, and a large body of constables, along Giltspur-street, to the house of Mr. Stone, No. 33, Hosier-lane—the vast crowd yelling and making other discordant sounds as they proceeded. On reaching Mr. Stone’s house, it was with great difficulty the bodies could be removed from the cart, the crowd appearing anxious to get possession of them. The bodies were placed on a table, and in the presence of the sheriffs (in conformity with their duty), an incision was made in their chests, after which they withdrew. The bodies were removed the same night—Bishop to the King’s College, and Williams to the Theatre of Anatomy, in Windmill-street, Haymarket—to be dissected. They were publicly exhibited on Tuesday and Wednesday, at both places, when immense crowds of persons were admitted to see their remains.

The skeletons of the two criminals still adorn the museums of the schools, in which their bodies were dissected.

The case of the murder of a Mrs. Pigburn has already been alluded to in the course of this article, and it will be seen that, in the confession made by the two convicts, they admitted their participation in that crime. The statement made by them appears to be strictly correct, as it was fully borne out by Shields, the porter, in a statement which he made before the magistrates at Bow-street.

In consequence of this declaration Mrs. Williams, the wife of the prisoner, was taken into custody on suspicion of her having been concerned in the murder. From her statement, some curious circumstances were elicited as to the prisoners, and her own and her mother’s relationship to them. She said that Bishop was the son of a carrier, who lived at Highgate, and who, in the course of a long life, succeeded in amassing a considerable sum of money. Mrs. Bishop, who was at the time of the inquiry about forty years of age, was married to the old man as his third wife, and at this time there were several children living, amongst whom were John Bishop, the convict, and herself, who were half-brother and sister, being both the children of the old man, but by different mothers. At the death of old Bishop, it was found that, by his will, he had divided his property between his last wife, his children, and some other relatives: and the payment of 15s. per week was secured to his widow out of a portion of the estate, in which some of the relations had a reversionary interest. In less than six months after the old man’s death, his widow and his son married, and they had lived together ever since. She (then Rhoda Bishop), subsequently became acquainted with Williams, whose real name was Head; he had been bred a carpenter, but at this time followed the occupation of a glass-blower, and after a short courtship they were married (about two months before her husband’s apprehension on the charge of murder), she being then seventeen years of age. She denied that she was at all aware of the diabolical crimes which had been resorted to by her husband and her half-brother; and although she admitted that she had accompanied Shields on the occasion pointed out, she declared that she was not informed of the nature of the load which he carried.

Mrs. Williams was remanded for a week, but at the expiration of that time, there being no evidence to implicate her in the horrid affair, she was discharged.

We have only a few words to add, in reference to May, to close our notice of these most detestable criminals.

May (who was a tall, light-haired, and rather good-looking man, about thirty years of age) was the natural son of a barrister, who formerly had chambers in the New Inn. His mother was a laundress in the chambers; she was particularly fond of her son, and when he was about twelve years of age she used to lead him about, fearful that any harm should come to him. He was brought up at a boarding-school, and received a tolerable education: he wrote an excellent hand, and at the age of fourteen he was employed in a professional gentleman’s office, at No. 10, in the New Inn; but he was always of a wild, roving disposition, and whenever he could get away from his duties he was associating with the worst characters about Clare-market. This appeared to be his sole delight, until he neglected the office altogether, and was, consequently, discharged. He had at the same time some good friends, who felt an interest in his welfare, but nothing could induce him to break-off with his associates; and, instead of remaining a clerk, which he was well adapted for, he took a liking to be a butcher. The first place he got was at Mr. Roberts’s, in Clare-market, with whom he lived some time: he afterwards lived with Mr. Price, in the same market; but he never remained long in one place. At last he took up the trade of a “body-snatcher;” and, in order to carry on the business with the greater facility, took a lodging in one of the houses in Clement’s-lane, Strand, the back of which looks into the burying-ground, situated in Portugal-street, at the rear of St. Clement Danes’ workhouse. Here he commenced business, and was very successful; but, like many others, flushed by success, he could not keep his own secret, and would brag of the number of bodies he had got out of the burying-ground at the back of his lodgings of a night, and what sums he had sold them for. He at first made no secret of his profession, and considered it meritorious, till, at last, he found that he was detested and despised by every person. He then left that part of the town, and got acquainted with Bishop and his associates.

We believe that there is no reason to doubt the truth of his assertions, that he had never been implicated in murder. He made a full confession of the habits and practices of persons engaged in his horrid trade, and his punishment was eventually commuted to transportation for life.

We have already alluded to the doubts which existed as to the ingenuousness of the confessions of the prisoners Bishop and Williams. The general suspicions which were entertained upon this subject, were still further excited by the publication of a report, that another confession had been made, in which the convicts had admitted their participation in upwards of sixty murders. We are inclined to believe that no such confession was actually made, although there is good reason to believe that the wretched malefactors concealed much of their guilt, while they admitted so much only as they knew must eventually be discovered. The idea that their confessions did not contain the whole truth, received confirmation from the circumstance of their denying that the remains found were those of the Italian boy. The evidence of the identity of the body was too clear to leave any room for doubt, and it is a remarkable fact that no information of the loss of such a boy (as they described) from Lincolnshire, ever reached the metropolis. Subsequently to the coroner’s inquest and before the trial, two poor people did arrive in London from Lincolnshire, who had lost a boy, and to whom the body of the Italian boy was shown; but, so far from recognizing it as their child, they said, that not only the hair, but the eyes were of a different colour. The whole object of the prisoners seems to have been to mystify the case so as to give them a chance of escape, and having set out with falsehood, they adhered to that course throughout. We have heard that some jealousy was entertained by certain individuals towards Mr. Corder, who conducted the prosecution, and who refused to avail himself of the professional assistance tendered him, and that some of these persons did not disguise their prophecies that the case would “break down,” and the prisoners escape for the want of proper evidence of identity. Even Bishop himself offered a bet, before the trial, that he would be safe, as it could not be proved that it was the Italian boy who had been found in his possession. It was not then known that, to meet this difficulty, the count for the murder of “a boy unknown” had been introduced; and when this fact was disclosed, all hope on the part of the prisoners and their jealous friends was abandoned. Mr. Corder received a deserved compliment from the judges for the admirable manner in which he had collected and arranged his evidence, notwithstanding, as he admitted to their lordships, he was “not indebted to any professional man in the progress of his labours.” This gentleman subsequently published a letter, urging conclusive reasons for the belief that it was the body of the Italian boy which was found; and, from the testimony of the surgeons who made the post mortem examination of the body, showing the utter falsehood of the statement of Bishop, “that he had been killed by suffocation in the well,” instead of by positive violence. The extravasated blood on the brain, and the effusion of blood in the spinal canal, obviously produced by external violence, were the best proofs that, in this respect, Bishop was deceiving his auditors: and, detected in one lie, little reliance could be placed on what followed. It appears, too, that Williams was present while Bishop was telling his story, and simply confirmed him in his narrative. Had they been called upon to make separate confessions, neither knowing what the other had said, some estimate might have been formed of the degree of confidence to be placed in their confession. But, as it was, we think the public are far from having got at the truth; and from the blunders and jealousies of the “officials,” we suspect much useful information upon this most dreadful subject was lost.