EXECUTION
OF JOHN MAPP
FOR THE
LONGDEN MURDER
CONFESSION OF THE MURDERER
Yesterday morning, at 8 o'clock, John Mapp was hanged; and,
probably the gallows has been publicly exhibited in Shrewsbury
for the last time, as it is almost certain that the Bill now
before the House of Commons providing for private executions will
become law. It is difficult to account for the feeling which
induces people to travel long distances, and to put themselves to
much inconvenience, to witness a fellow creature pass out of the
world, so ignominiously; for such feeling belongs to no class,
all classes on such occasions being in a greater or lesser degree
represented. That the mass of such sightseers drawn from the
bottom of the social scale is true, and it is doubtless the case
that the brutal spectacle is viewed with widely dissimilar
feelings by the man of culture and the mere animal of society;
but there is still the same morbid anxiety on the part of all to
get a good view of the sickening sight. Possibly capital
punishment may one day be abolished altogether, but at present
society does not appear to be prepared to take such a step. If
hanging has a deterrent effect, would- be murderers not daring to
risk such a punishment, it is due to society that it should be
perpetuated, and it seems to be considered that it is so; and
with murders accumulating as they have done of late, scarcely a
week passing that some fearful atrocity is not reported, it is no
wonder that people should feel that the gallows, believed to be
the most stringent remedy, should remain in force. With reference
to Mapp, the murderer who has just been launched into eternity by
the hands of the hangman, there was no palliation for his
offence. His crime was one of the worst which has ever shocked
humanity; and, although it was mooted that some persons,
opponents of capital punishment, contemplated memorialising her
Majesty for the commutation of his sentence, no active steps were
taken in that direction, the projectors thinking, no doubt, that
it would be better for them to use their energies rather for the
abolition of hanging altogether than to spend them on so hopeless
a task as attempting to obtain a reprieve for the condemned man.
The plea at one time put forth of insanity was so clearly a false
one that it was soon cast aside; and it was plain then that the
wretch who could commit so foul a crime as that of which he had
been found guilty would be hung, as a punishment and warning, and
such was his end. From the time of his apprehension to the last
moment of his career Mapp showed but little sign that he realised
the awful position in which he stood. His spirits never flagged,
his appetite never failed him, and sleep rarely forsook his
eyelids; and even at the last dread period, those few minutes
which elapsed between the time of the moving of the mournful
procession to the drop, he showed less concern for his fate that
would a dog with a halter round its neck. What passed within his
breast of course no on can tell; but his countenance was as
impassive as though it were a mere piece of acting through which
he was going, instead of a doom which was to send him, in a few
seconds, to that unknown future which is looked to even by good
men with some misgiving.
The murder, as the majority of our readers must be aware, was
a most barbarous one, and in many respects was a remarkable
parallel to the Alton atrocity, the particulars of which shocked
the ears of the public during the end of August last. In both
case the victim was a young girl of about nine years of age, in
both the only apparent object for the commission of the crime was
the violation of the child, or else a most unaccountable
barbarity of disposition, and in both the only evidence against
the prisoner was circumstantial evidence. Singularly enough, too,
the day on which Baker was executed for the Alton outrage (24th
December) was the precise day on which Mapp was first brought
before our county justices, and charged with the crime for which
he has just been punished. In both cases, too, the culprits
denied to the last that they had any intention of violating their
victims, although both have admitted that they were the
perpetrators of the crime. In some respects, however, the
circumstances connected with the two tragedies are as dissimilar
as in other respects that are similar. Baker was a young man
filling a respectable situation in a solicitor's office; Mapp was
a returned transport, a man of no education, and a man not
generally respected, of late years at any rate, even among men of
his own calling. According to the accepted notions as to the
beneficial effects of education, it would be reasonably enough
presumed that if one of these murder was more atrocious than the
other, it would be that perpetrated by the less educated man. But
here theory would be at fault, for the inhuman, we may say
fiendish, brutality of Baker by no means finds a parallel in the
injuries inflicted by Mapp upon his victim. The former
dismembered the body of the poor girl, took out her heart and
eyes, and actually carried away the latter from the scene of the
murder in his hands. This, of course, quite eclipses, in point of
barbarity, anything that occurred in connection with the Longden
murder; but even in the latter there were many circumstances of
the most heartrending and horrifying character, and they have
created an enormous amount of excitement and indignation
throughout Shropshire. The particulars of the Longden outrage are
as follows:-On the morning of the 22nd of December last, two days
only before that day which should especially remind us of "Peace
on earth and good-will to men," a little girl named Catherine
Lewis, the daughter of a labouring man, named Edward Lewis,
residing at Longden, left her parent's roof to go to the house of
a neighbour named Davies, by whom she was occasionally employed
as nurse. It being Sunday, the girl, in the evening, left Mrs.
Davies's to attend a small chapel at the village; and after
service she walked home in company with Mapp and a young woman
named Jane Richards. On arriving at a gate leading to Mr.
Whitfield's farm, Richards, who was a servant of Mr. Whitfield's,
bade Mapp and the girl good night, and left them, noticing,
however, that they both proceeded onwards together. The girl did
not return home that night; but no inquiries were instituted as
to her absence, as it was presumed by her parents that she had
remained all night at Mrs. Davies's. On the following morning, a
lad named Aston, was at work with Mapp in a field on Mr.
Whitfield's farm, when the former, while eating his luncheon,
found a black straw hat, evidently belonging to a girl, pushed
into a holy bush. He pulled the hat out of the hedge, and found
it to be saturated with blood; and, very naturally, he had some
conversation with Mapp respecting it. Aston expressed an opinion
that the person who had had such a blow as that indicated by the
appearance of the hat must be badly hurt, and a search was made
in the ditch to see if anything else could be found. The search
was unsuccessful; and shortly afterwards Mapp requested Aston to
take the hat and bury it. This Aston refused to do; and Mapp
afterwards, with amazing coolness, and it must be said also with
no small display of hard heartidness, picked up the hat saying he
would have the ribbon off it. Aston remonstrated; and the hat was
ultimately deposited at a gate on the road-side, where it was
found shortly afterwards by a woman named Mary Hartshorn. Mrs.
Hartshorn, it appears, had observed the girl in chapel on the
previous evening, and having some idea as to whom the hat
belonged, she took it to Mr. Lewis, the father of the girl, who
at once identified it. During the conversation between Mapp and
Aston respecting the hat, the latter, joking Mapp, said he (Mapp)
had done it, to which the latter, no doubt, somewhat alarmed at
having the crime brought so suddenly and so unexpectedly home to
him, declared that "he never did such a thing in his life."
Before the discovery of the hat, Aston observed Mapp "looking
about from one end of the field to the other;" and although no
great importance was laid upon this piece of evidence at the
trial of Mapp, yet, taken in conjunction with what followed, it
would seem to be of some importance, although, perhaps, it is
open to several different interpretations. Mapp, of course, well
knew that the girl must soon be missed; and, naturally enough, he
expected to see some one in search of her. Perhaps he was
uncertain as to the exact spot where, in the dark, he had
concealed the hat, and dreaded its discovery by Aston. Perhaps he
feared that some other article of wearing apparel, likely to
reveal his crime, was lying about the field; or, probably, he was
looking about for those gouts of blood which afterwards proved
such damning evidence against him. During the morning, shortly
before the hat was found, he was called by Aston to partake of
luncheon; but instead of going direct to Aston for that purpose,
he went aside to another part of the field and there spread, as
Aston stated, two heaps of manure. This, in itself, was but a
trifling circumstance; but when it is added that Mapp went to
that spot apparently with the express purpose of spreading the
manure, and when it is added also that beneath the manure so
spread, a large quantity of blood, and a hair net sworn to belong
to the murdered girl, were afterwards found, the circumstance
became a strong one in proof of the prisoner's guilt. One of the
police officers who discovered the blood on the Tuesday morning
stated that possibly five heaps of manure were spread at this
point; and Mr. Harrington, in his defence of the prisoner,
endeavoured to convince the jury that the other three heaps must
have been spread by some one else than Mapp, and that that person
- not Mapp - was the actual murderer. The officer, however, did
not swear positively that five heaps were spread, although there
may "possibly" have been five; and it is quite as reasonable to
suppose that Mapp himself had spread them, during the early part
of the morning, as that any one else did. The hat having come
into the hands of the father of the child, a search was
instituted, and the body of the poor girl was found in a
frightfully mutilated condition in a hovel nearly half a mile
from where the hat was found, and where the murder was committed.
While the father was searching for his missing child, Mrs.
Hartshorn proceeded to the house of a police-officer at Longden
with the hat. On the way there she saw Mapp, who came up to her
with tears in his eyes, and declared that "that had come to send
him back again," meaning, no doubt, to penal servitude. He also
begged of her, in the most supplicating mood, to "say nothing
against him," promising to say nothing himself if she would not.
Mapp's behaviour at this point contrasts in a somewhat striking
manner with his cool conduct in the field when the hat was first
discovered. It can hardly be supposed that he had, in the
meantime, repented of the fearful crime he had committed; and the
sorrow he exhibited, therefore, could only have been of that
selfish character which no doubt every murderer feels when his
guilt is, or is likely to be detected. The circumstances we have
already detailed were of course amply sufficient to warrant the
apprehension of Mapp; and when this was done, still further
evidence was discovered against him. In the pocket of the clothes
he wore on the Sunday, a small brooch was found; and this,
perhaps, was the strongest fact adduced by the prosecution
against the prisoner. The brooch was of but little value, having
cost but a shilling when new. No doubt, too, it was a class of
article with which there are many similar; but the pin was bent,
and it was clearly identified as the one the girl wore on the
Sunday night, both by her father and Mrs. Davies who fastened the
girl's shawl with it, and who took particular notice of it before
the latter left for chapel. On the clothes themselves were spots
of blood, and marks which seemed to indicate that portions of
them had been recently washed, while on the trousers were marks
such as might be cause by the wearer kneeling upon damp soil. In
the house, a buck-horn knife, with a large and small blade, was
found, the smaller blade having been recently sharpened. The
knife, too, bore marks of blood; and it was sworn by the medical
gentleman, who made the post mortem examination, to be just such
an instrument as would inflict the wounds found upon the body.
From the medical evidence it appeared that the girl died partly
from loss of blood, and partly from suffocation caused by the
shawl she wore having been twisted tightly around her neck, and
about eight inches of the end stuffed tightly into her mouth. In
the neck was a wound of about four inches in length, the windpipe
was cut through, and several of the smaller blood vessels were
severed. From the number of thorns and scratches found on the
body, and the matted state of the hair, it was presumed that the
body had been dragged, probably face downwards, from the place
where the murder was committed to the hovel where the body was
afterwards found, There was no evidence whatever to lead to the
conviction that the girl had been violated, or, indeed, that such
a thing had been attempted. Had such been the design of the
murderer, he must, ere he used any violence to achieve that
object, have determined to hide one barbarous offence by the
commission of another still more brutal and cowardly. Supposing
the body to have been removed to the hovel for concealment on the
Sunday night, it became somewhat difficult to account for the
small quantity of blood which was found upon the prisoner's
clothes; and also for the few traces of blood that were
discovered along the ground over which the body appeared to have
been dragged. To solve this apparent difficulty, the police
propounded the theory that the body was not removed until the
following morning when the blood would be congealed, and there
would be less chance of any considerable traces being left. If
this theory were true, it was naturally supposed that at least
some marks would be found upon the clothes worn by the prisoner
on the Monday; and, when carefully examined, several spots, as of
blood, were found upon them. This, at first, sight, would appear
to be a strong corroborative fact; but the prosecution, with a
fairness to the prisoner which is deserving of no small amount of
credit, declined to lay much stress upon it, as that blood might
have got upon the prisoner's clothes by his handling the hat,
with Aston, on the Monday morning. Mapp, it was said, wore boots
with such large nails; and the absence of any such footmarks was
urged, in defence, as a proof that he was not the perpetrator of
the crime. The absence of such impressions near the spot where
the murder was committed, was, however, attributed to the manure
having been spread, and to the number of persons who had been
trampling the ground before the officer was able to make his
examination; while the dragging of the body over the ground
would, it was said, obliterate any impression that might have
been made by the person who dragged it - he having, of course, to
walk before. The prisoner, it will be recollected, was unable to
retain a counsel for his defence; but, in accordance with a rule
which should do much to impress the poorer classes with the
fairer proceedings in our law-courts, Mr. Harrington was called
upon by the judge to defend. Of the manner in which that
gentleman acquitted himself of the difficult and responsible duty
placed in his hands, there can be but one opinion. As a specimen
of close reasoning, few speeches that have been heard in our
Crown Court of late years have equalled it. Every one who heard
it must confess that had there been the slightest flaw in the
chain of evidence against Mapp, he must have been acquitted. The
evidence, however, was overwhelming; and never, we are sure, was
there a case left in the hands of a jury for their verdict, in
which the guilt of the prisoner was more clearly proved.
Considering that the life of a fellow-being was at stake, this
was what it should be; and however opposed some members of the
community may be to convictions based upon circumstantial
evidence alone, yet even they must agree that, looking
impartially at this case, no one could presume John Mapp to be
innocent. The court, on the day of the trial, was crowded to
excess; and the Market-square, also, was thronged with persons
anxious, but unable, to hear the trial. On Mapp's arrival at the
Shirehall, and on his leaving it, he was greeted with an ovation
of groans and hisses; but these expressions of feeling on the
part of the public seemed to have little, if any, effect upon
him; and he left and entered the prison-van in silence.
Having briefly recapitulated some of the more important points
of the case, a few remarks in reference to Mapp personally, will
not, perhaps, be unacceptable. He was the son of decent,
hardworking parents, who reside at Longden, and with whom Mapp
himself lodged. He was a man of 36 years of age, about 5 feet 6
inches in height, and he stooped slightly. He could scarcely,
perhaps, be said to squint; but his eyes had a peculiar look,
very much resembling it. If his features bore any particular
expression, it certainly was not that of a thinking or of a
sociable man, but rather of a person devoid of anything like
delicate or refined feelings. There can be no doubt, too, that
Mapp was a man of comparatively weak intellect; and, indeed, he
has borne that character from his youth. But it is equally
certain that he was sane enough to be held accountable for the
fearful crime he committed. At the Spring Assizes in 1859, before
Mr. Justice Crompton, Mapp was convicted of a rape upon an old
woman of about sixty years of age, at a place no great distance
from where the murder was committed. On that occasion Mapp tied a
rope around his victim's neck, pulled out a knife, and threatened
"to do for her" if she did not yield to his request. A question
appears to have been raised at that time as to the prisoner's
sanity; but it was remarked by Mr. Justice Crompton that although
the prisoner "might not be the wisest person in the world yet he
well knew right from wrong." The defence set up however had the
effect of inducing the jury to recommend the prisoner to mercy.
For this offence Mapp was sentenced to ten years' penal
servitude; but in July, 1866, he received a ticket-of-leave; and
about eighteen months afterwards he committed the crime for which
he has just suffered. When first brought before the magistrates
at Shrewsbury Mapp talked in a somewhat incoherent manner, and
expressed the somewhat curious wish to "see the child, if it were
allowed." This, for some reason, was not permitted; but in
accordance with another request which he made, he was present at
the Coroner's inquiry at Longden, on the 26th December. He
remained in the room that day throughout the inquiry, and
cross-examined some of the witnesses at considerable length, and
sometimes even with great acuteness. Both as he arrived in the
village and as he left it he was greeted with the howls and
hisses of the villagers, and had he got into their hands there
can be but little doubt that Calcraft's labours would have been
spared in his case. To these outbursts of indignation Mapp relied
that "they were mistaken, they never were more mistaken;" but the
assertion seemed to increase the ire of the crowd rather than
diminish it; and it was not until the police had exerted
themselves for some time in quieting the tumult that the prisoner
was left unmolested. During the three months Mapp was in custody
awaiting his trial, almost the last thing he appears to have
thought of was his probable fate. He has continually been in the
most cheerful mood, and sometimes even merry. His appetite, too,
by no means suffered from his confinement; but seemed to increase
instead of diminish, and the result was that when he left the
prison to take his trial, he left it a stouter and apparently
healthier man than when he went into it. In the dock on the day
of his trial he conducted himself in the same apparently
indifferent manner, and while all in the court listened with
breathless interest to the impressive remarks of the Judge in
passing sentence, he seemed to be the only one unmoved. After his
trial his demeanour altered but little. He ate his meals with
extraordinary relish, conversed as freely as ever with the
officials, and slept well. For the first few days after his
condemnation he still protested that he was innocent; but
subsequently he made one or two remarks which led to the belief
that before his execution he would make a full, - or at any rate
a partial - confession. In this supposition the officials proved
to be correct, for on the evening of the 29th ult. Mapp made a
statement in which he admitted that he was the perpetrator of the
crime, but denied that he had any intention of violating his
victim. This, to some extent, was satisfactory, but yet the very
point which Mapp denied was the only one upon which there could,
in the minds of the public, be any doubt. On the morning before
the execution, however, Mapp made a further confession, admitting
the whole of the circumstances, and expressing his regret for the
commission of the crime. The confession is as follows: -
County Prison, Shrewsbury, 8th April,
1868.
"When I parted with Jane Richards at the Short Lane gate,
Catherine Lewis and myself walked together for a few yards. I
ketched hold of her hand, and she said, 'Do you live by Edward
Mason's?' and I said 'Yes.' When I had her by the hand she began
to cry, and I believe she shouted out, but I am not quite sure.
She ran to the gate and got over it - I suppose she was
frightened at me. As she got over it I was close after her, and
when I got over it the gate fell, but I did not fall. When I got
up to her she was lying under the hedge, and I asked her to let
me do something to her. She said she wouldn't let me. She then
told me she'd tell her father. She was crying. I said to her,
'Well, if you tell your father I'll cut your throat.' I then
pulled out my knife and I cut her throat. She was lying on the
ground, and I was kneeling at her left side. I got up and wiped
the knife with some grass, and then wiped it on her pinner. I
then undid the shawl and put the brooch in my pocket, and then
put the shawl in her mouth. I am not, however, quite certain
whether I pushed the shawl into her mouth before I cut her throat
or afterwards, but I did put it in. I then got up and turned her
head round, and pulled her down the field by her right hand. She
was not dead when I started with her, but she was quite dead
before I got to the bottom of the field. I put her in the
building where she was found. I think the mark on her forehead
was caused by the heel of my boot touching her as I pulled her
down the field. I did not strike her. I was very sorry after I
done it."
The annexed statement was read over to John Mapp in our
presence, and declared by him to be true.
WM. H. FENWICK, Governor.
JOHN D. HARRIES, Surgeon to the Gaol.
J. DENNING, Chaplain.
After his trial, Mapp was confined in a cell at the south end
of the gaol, near the officers' room. In accordance with the
prison regulations he has, since his condemnation, been
continually attended by one or two of the officers; and he has
taken daily exercise in the prison yard. To the last he conversed
freely with the officials, and with those who were permitted to
visit him; and he never seemed to evince the slightest repugnance
to speak of the deed he had committed, nor yet, even, of his
impending execution. Very frequently his conversation has been of
the most trivial and unaccountable character; and, when asked if
he did not dread the death he would have to suffer, he coolly
replied that he did not, "for all must die some time or other."
His behaviour, however, does not appear to have been the result
of real moral courage, nor yet of anything like bravado; but
rather of a dogged indifference - indeed, we might almost say, a
brutish indifference, to the awfulness of his position.
On Monday morning, the 30th ult., Mapp was visited by his
parents; and this was the first interview that he had with any of
his friends after his condemnation. Mr. and Mrs. Mapp were
accompanied, during their painful visit, by the Rev. L Corbett,
rector of that portion of the parish of Pontesbury in which the
murder was committed, and also by the Rev. J. Denning, the prison
chaplain. The interview, of course, was a most affecting one.
Mapp, indifferent as he seems to have been to his own fate, is
said to have shown some signs of remorse at the grief of his
parents. He had, we believe, four brothers and three sisters,
several of whom, during the week, visited him. With them he
conversed freely; but he appeared but little, if at all, moved,
even when taking his final farewell of them. During the early
part of the week, Mr. Lewis, the father of the murdered girl,
visited the prisoner; and the former was, very naturally, a good
deal affected. Mapp, too, seemed somewhat moved, and frankly
admitted that he committed the crime, at the same time expressing
his regret for having done so. During the last fortnight the Rev.
J. Denning, the prison chaplain, was unremitting in his
attendance upon the prisoner, and spared no pains to prepare him
for his approaching end. The Rev. L. Corbett also visited him,
and did all in his power to render happy the few remaining days
of the life of the unfortunate man.
On Wednesday morning, a portion of the scaffold was erected
over the lodge in front of the prison; and during the day
considerable numbers collected around to see, what little was to
be seen, of the instrument of death. Some little excitement, too,
of a similar description, was observable within the railway
station, from the platform of which the front of the gaol is
clearly visible. Shortly after noon, the cross-beam to which the
rope is attached was elevated upon two upright posts; and those
sides of the scaffold facing the points occupied by the
spectators were surrounded with black cloth, so as to conceal
from view as much as possible of the culprit's body after the
falling of the drop. A number of men were also employed in
barricading both ends of the Dana bridge - a very necessary
precaution, as the bridge is only of wood, and a crush upon it
might have resulted in very serious consequences.
THE EXECUTION.
Yesterday morning, even before day had dawned, people wended
their way into Shrewsbury in considerable numbers, mostly on
foot, but many in vehicles, and, by seven o'clock, a large crowd
had collected in the open space fronting the gaol, which crowd
was augmented, as time went on, until some five or six thousand
persons were disposed in the space alluded to, in Howard-street,
and other points from which a view of the scaffold could be had.
The walls skirting the railway were thronged, and many
adventurous men had collected on the tops of buildings near. It
was an orderly assemblage, and the police on duty had no occasion
in any instance to interfere. There were well-dressed men, with
grave, thoughtful faces, there; and many well-dressed women, too,
with nothing in their external appearances denoting brutality;
children, most of them too young to comprehend in its full extent
the tragedy they were about to witness, with some callous young
vagabonds, from whose ranks, according to the notions of society,
which, however, are wrong in this, as in many other cases, the
gallows finds most of its victims; and "roughs," whose faces it
was not pleasant to look upon, and whose coarse jokes were
productive of even coarser laughter. Some Dissenting ministers
delivered addresses, as is customary with them at such times, and
seem to be tolerably well listened to; and there were numerous
tract distributors, acting by order of the Religious Tract
Society, who were treated with no disrespect. As the hour of
eight approached, and the crowd had thickened, there was the hum
of many voices, and it was clear that the coming horrible
spectacle was the topic which engrossed all thoughts.
Speculations were rife as to whether the wretched man would
retain his firmness to the last, and "die game," or whether it
would forsake him; and all sorts of stories were told of his
conduct whilst in prison, most of them, of course, mere fiction.
It was said, and this we believe is true, that on Wednesday
afternoon he expressed a hope that before being executed he
should be "allowed time to partake of breakfast, and have a good
wash!" The wind was piercingly cold; but the air was clear and
the sun was bright. It was a morning to exhilarate; but on all,
save the lowest section, the thought of what was to come speedily
had evidently cast a gloom. Anon policemen ascended the scaffold,
and the conversation that had been going on was hushed, but was
resumed on its being seen that no one followed. Then there came
the toll of the prison bell, "the death knell of the living man,"
and all appeared to comprehend that the sad procession was on the
move. In a very short period the culprit stood before the
multitude, and there was almost a complete silence. He was deadly
pale, and bent his head slightly; but he walked firmly, and the
cap being drawn over his face, the rope adjusted, and his legs
fastened, the hangman (Calcraft) retired, and in a few seconds a
sickening thud announced to those who had not nerve to look
upward that the unhappy man was launched into eternity. As the
drop fell there were screams from the women present, whilst from
men there was a sudden expiring of the pent-up breath, which
sounded like a sigh; and then conversation once more broke forth,
and in a little while most of the assemblage dispersed.
The wretched culprit struggled convulsively for a considerable
time; and some persons with opera glasses noticed that the knot
of the rope, which was originally on the left side of the head,
had shifted so as to be under the right side of the chin.
Within the gaol on the morning of the execution, everything
seemed as orderly and monotonous as the interiors of such places
usually are; and save the hum of voices from without, and the top
of the gallows, which was just visible from the yard, there was
nothing that indicated that anything unusual was about to take
place. The chaplain arrived at the prison before six, and at once
visited Mapp, with whom he remained for some time. About seven
the Rev. L. Corbett arrived; and he, too, visited the condemned
man. At all times, we believe, Mapp has exhibited great
willingness to converse with the clergymen who have visited him;
and to them, he has, since he first confessed, frequently
expressed his deep regret for the crime he had committed. Whether
this was merely the result of fear or not, it is impossible to
say; but the general opinion is, that Mapp, to judge at least by
his language, felt as much sorrow for what he had done as could
be expected from so thoroughly indignant and naturally brutish a
man as he. He was not, however, considered by the chaplain to be
in a fit state of mind to receive the sacrament; and that sacred
rite, therefore, was not administered to him. About half-an-hour
before the time fixed for the execution (8 o'clock), the Deputy
Under Sheriff, De Courcey Peele, Esq., arrived, and immediately
afterwards the Executioner also made his appearance. Calcraft, we
believe, arrived in the town about five o'clock on the evening
previous, and he was met at the Railway Station by a large number
of persons anxious to obtain a peep at the notorious executioner.
This being his first visit to Shrewsbury he was little if at all
known, and more than one innocent passenger was, on leaving the
station, somewhat puzzled at being gazed upon by some hundreds of
eyes; and by the often repeated remark "That's him." During the
night Calcraft remained in the prison, and was introduced to Mapp
on the following morning. On Wednesday night Mapp retired to rest
about nine o'clock apparently in his usual spirits. Previously he
had slept well; but during this, his last night upon earth, he
was very restless and slept but comparatively little. He arose
about five, and before six he partook of a substantial breakfast,
which he ate with apparently a good an appetite as usual; and
that disposed of, he seemed fully prepared for his approaching
death.
A few minutes before eight the culprit was demanded by the
under sheriff in the usual form, and was removed from his cell to
one of the officer's rooms in the centre of the prison, to be
pinioned. This apartment is itself a curious one. The walls and
ceiling are entirely of stone, the latter being arched in a
peculiar manner. Light is admitted through a window at one end;
and the one or two seats which were in the room were, whether
temporarily or not we cannot say, draped in black.
On arriving in the room, Mapp was placed so as to face the
doorway with his left side towards the window, Beside the culprit
was a chair, intended no doubt to receive him should his feelings
overcome him; but the precaution, in this case, proved an
unnecessary one. The pinioning process is said to be as great a
strain as any part of the painful ceremony upon the nerves of the
culprit; and Mapp's behaviour, while undergoing it, was naturally
watched with a good deal of interest. There were, at this time,
present in the room the Rev. J. Denning (chaplain), the
Under-sheriff, the governor, Captain Fenwick, Mr. Andrew Clarke,
and a number of the gaol officials.
Mapp was attired in rough corduroy trousers and a white slop,
and his shoes bore a brilliant polish. In one hand he held his
cap, a "Jim-crow," and in the other a blue and white cotton
handkerchief. As Calcraft commenced his work, Mapp handed the
handkerchief to one of the officials, and when one arm was
pinioned he placed his cap, with the other, upon his head. He
looked, as we have already stated, stout and healthy; but his
face was decidedly paler, and bore a more anxious look than was
visible at the trial.
Mapp always stooped; and, after the straps which fastened his
arms to his side were buckled, he stooped still more than usual.
Still, he appeared firm, and Calcraft was enabled to complete his
work without the slightest difficulty. A procession was then
formed in the following order, and proceeded towards the
scaffold:
Four Officers of the County Constabulary.
Surgeon. Chaplain. Governor.
Officer. The Prisoner. Officer. Executioner.
Four Police Officers.
During this painful march the prison bell tolled, and the
service for the burial of the dead was read by the Chaplain; but
Mapp did not join in it, nor indeed did he appear to comprehend
what was going on. He bent his head so low that his face was
almost invisible; but he appeared to step without any hesitation
or nervousness. At the foot of the scaffold he parted with the
chaplain and the Rev. L. Corbett, and ascended the stairs with
apparent indifference. Mapp then mounted the scaffold proper,
which consisted of a wooden platform on the roof of the lodge,
and took his place upon the drop, two of the prison officers
standing beside him. He did not, however, need their support, and
a moment afterwards the rope and cap were adjusted. By this time
the hum of voices had ceased, and the solemnity of the scene was
deeply affecting. Calcraft and the officers having completed
their preparations, they stepped off the scaffold, and a moment
afterwards there was a rattling of iron and wood work, a peculiar
"thud" and sort of suppressed scream from those without, and the
body of John Mapp disappeared from the view of those in the
interior of the gaol. For a moment the rope seemed almost
stationary; but a few seconds afterwards it oscillated
considerably evidently denoting that the culprit was struggling.
Calcraft himself afterwards stated that Mapp exhibited more than
ordinary fortitude. Before the executioner stepped off the
platform Mapp shook hands with him and bade him "good bye." Just
as the drop fell, the convict turned his head slightly as if
wishing to speak to some one; but the bolt was drawn and he fell
before the words escaped his lips. In consequence of this
movement, the rope was displaced, the knot being turned from the
left ear almost to the other side of the head. This, combined
with the fact of Mapp being a strong, muscular man, resulted in
his struggling more than is usual on such occasions. Calcraft
himself stated soon afterwards that death took place immediately;
but the general opinion, more especially among those outside,
was, that life was not extinct for nearly ten minutes. The body
hung till nine o'clock, when it was cut down, and was, in the
course of the day, buried within the precincts of the prison. The
body being cut down the whole of the prisoners in the gaol were
assembled in the chapel for divine service, when the Chaplain
read the 51st Psalm, and an extempore sermon was preached by the
Rev. L. Corbett, from 2 Corinthians v. 10 and 11 - "For we must
all appear before the judgement-seat of Christ; that every one
may receive the things done in his body according to that he hath
done, whether it be good or bad. Knowing, therefore, the terror
of the Lord, we persuade men; but we are made manifest unto God;
and I trust, also, are made manifest in your consciences." The
hymn selected for the service was, "There is a fountain filled
with blood;"
Mapp's parents, it is stated, are both upwards of seventy
years of age, and Mapp's father has been a labourer upon the
Longden Wood Farm during just one-half his lifetime. Previously
to taking his present situation, he lived for some years at
Habberly, in this county. John Mapp, when a boy, attended school
for about twelve months, but he appeared to have but little taste
for learning, and both there, and at Portland, he derived but
little benefit from the instruction offered him. With the
exception of the time Mapp was undergoing penal servitude, he has
worked upon Mr. Whitfield's farm during the past nine years. He
was of sober habits, but was extremely dull at learning even the
mechanical routine of common farm-work, and, consequently, he was
always looked upon as a bad workman. It is mentioned, as a
somewhat curious coincidence, that Mapp, according to a statement
of his own, followed the old woman, whom he assaulted in 1858,
into the chapel on the night of the murder.
[Shrewsbury Chronicle, (special edition)
Monday, 23 March 1868]
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