THE EXECUTION OF EDWARD KELLY, Kilmore Free Press (Kilmore, Victoria, 8 November, 1880).
"The final scene in the Kelly drama, was enacted within the walls of the Melbourne gaol on Thursday, when Edward Kelly paid the full penalty of the law for the murder of Constable Lonigan. The hour of the execution was fixed for 10 o'clock, the admissions were confined to a few Justices of the peace, one or two medical gentlemen, some gaol officials, and the representatives of the press. In all, there were but twenty seven persons at the execution. Very many attempts were made to obtain admission upon one pretence or another, but only those who had been provided with an order from either the Chief Secretary or the Sheriff were admitted, one respectable looking female, unknown, to the police pleaded strenuously to the warder in charge of the wicket door for admission to see Kelly "just for a minute" and it was only with difficulty, that she could he induced to leave the precincts of the gaol. During the solemn half hour which intervened between the admission of the first attendants and the execution, those present formed themselves into parties of twos and threes, and nervously pacing the yard, discussed the merits of the condemned man's case and heir experience of other executions, while frequent application was made to their time pieces. At five minutes to 10 the Governor of the gaol Mr. Castieau, the sheriff (Colonel Reid), and the under-sheriff (Mr Ellis), led the way into that section of the gaol which is known as the new wing, to which admission is gained through an iron grated gate, thence they proceed along a corridor and up a few steps, through a second gate, into a cruciform area surmounted by a dome off which branch corridors. Immediately facing the spectators as they enter this apartment, is the gallows, not the formidable black looking structure familiar to the minds of those persons whose experience of executions is confined to the reading of the penny-a-lining details of depraved journalism, but a simple beam fixed into the wall on either side of the building. Attached to this is an inch rope, one end of beam, while to the other end is a running slip noose. Round the dome runs a balcony reaching a cell on either side of the drop, to one of which a condemned prisoner is removed about an hour prior to the hour fixed for the execution, between those two calls is the drop, on ordinary occasions forming the floor of the gallery, and over which any one might pass without being aware of its character. The drop partakes of the nature of a door, on which the condemned man stands, and which when released by the withdrawal of a bolt attached to a lever, falls down, and is held back by a pulley, allowing the body to fall with a jerk. While the witnesses remained below, breathlessly gazing up at this simple paraphernalia, and watching for the appearance of Kelly, the Governor, the Sheriff, and under-sheriff, proceed up the stairs to the condemned cell. At the door of this the Sheriff, punctually at 10 o'clock, formally demanded the body of Edward Kelly, and handed to the governor his warrant for same. Having glanced at this the governor knocked at the cell door, and was admitted. At a signal, the hangman, Upjohn, emerged from the cell on the opposite side, walked across the drop, and entering the condemned cell, proceeded to pinion Kelly. To this the prisoner demurred saying there was no necessity for it. Upjohn having performed the operation, left the cell, and standing by the drop, awaited the advent of the condemned man, who emerged from the cell between two warders, and preceded by the Rev. Deans O'Hea, and Donaghy, walked on to the drop. His head was enveloped in the usual white cap, and though looking slightly pale, there was no falter in his step. When under the rope, Kelly gave a violent but only momentary shudder. Standing in front of him Upjohn, without the slightest signs of nervousness, adjusted the rope, pulled the cap over Kelly's face, and stepping back to the lever which works the drop, at almost the same moment received the signal, and the bolt being withdrawn, the wretched man was launched into eternity. The slack rope gave a drop of about eight feet, and death must have been instantaneous, for there was but the slightest muscular contraction, the natural result of the sudden shook received by the system. On leaving the cell, and before stepping upon the drop, an expression, with a igh, escaped Kelly's lips, which the warders and the governor interrupted to this effect "Ah, well, I suppose," probably meaning to say he supposed to say this was the last of it, or this was what it had come to, but the expression was never concluded. He had previously intimated his intention of making a speech, but his heart evidently failed him. He gave not the slightest intimation of his desire to speak, and the whole proceedings were so quickly and effectually carried out that any scene was avoided. It is usual on such occasions for the prayers to be completed before the signal to withdraw the bolt is given, but the governor, anticipating the possibility of a scene, or of a breakdown, either on the part of the criminal or the executioner, had determined upon the expeditious carrying out of the arrangements, thus obviating the agony of mind inseparable under such circumstances to the condemned man, and doing away with any possibility of a contre-temps. Upjohn, the executioner, is by no means the typical hangman of current literature, and though a hardened criminal himself, old in crime, and long resident in colonial gaols, his worst expression of countenance is that of sulky doggedness. This was his first execution, and his objectionable work was expeditiously performed without any sign of faltering or nervousness. He was bare-headed, and was in his shirt sleeves while performing his duties..."
Elijah John, the Shaftesbury-born criminal and hangman of Ned Kelly:
Ned Kelly, before his execution
The prison gallows (newspaper artist);
Elijah Upjohn is the second on the right
Ned Kelly death mask:
Ned Kelly's armour:
Capture of the Kelly Gang.
The Graphic, 4 September, 1880
Elijah Upjohn plays a central role
(as the seventy-year-old novice hangman)
in the last two pages of Peter Carey's novel
The Imagined Last Words
of Elijah, the Hypocritical Hangman, to Ned Kelly,
moments before and after Ned's execution
Evil-minded
Thick-headed
Iron-hearted
Gab-gifted
Emu-legged
Wild-mouthed
Horse-stealing
Plough-smashing
Pommy-bashing
Copper-killing
Rope-dangling
Son of a...
Pig-stealing
Convict!
Reading (audio)
The Dorset County Chronicle, 10 April, 1834
Read more about Elijah Upjohn in Shire Hall Historic Courthouse Museum, Dorchester, Dorset.
Related, see also the William Barnes Society website, my article -
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