The cold wind of the late October afternoon swirls the leaves about the prison yard as the crowd gathers. First comes the Captain of the Guard appearing very pompous and stern astride a magnificent steed dressed as well as he is for the occasion, followed by the guards who form lines either side of the prison gates, arms length stretching to where the majestic device that dominates the yard stands rifles with fixed bayonets in the upright. Almost immediately behind them come the attendants, three of them pulling a trundle cart with buckets and a large boxed stopping just to the right of the device, unloading the boxes and buckets then standing off to the side, waiting. The wind blows more strident as the crowd starts to gather, all come to the event for various reasons, bystanders, the morbid, reporters from various papers to write about it, artist and sketchers to record the event for history, or to perhaps sell their images on the streets or to private concerns.

It is an almost peaceful affair, quiet, subdued yet with an atmosphere of coldness running through it coldness not from the time of year yet from the time and place and the event that will shortly unfold before all here. Some men chat, smoke some have flasks and share with others on such a chilled day, others merely seem content to stand and wait then will depart as quietly as they have come. To some in the crowd there is a decided glee in the eyes as things unfold before them, others the moment is somber and perhaps a bit sad.

Time, it moves slowly, second hands on the watches of the men here seems to sweep by the numbers at a very slow rate as if trying to slow or even stop the inevitableness of the hour that is fast approaching, but again time moves at its own pace and as the crowd stands, the chill wind whips at the coattails of the men and the tunics of the officer and guards, everyone waiting, wondering.

For months the papers and illustrator sheets had been filed with the news of the trial of the man who had murdered 2 young females from the more industrial sections of the city, how he had hunted them down and butchered them in cold blood. His trial had been extensive, the graphic details of each girl’s murder told in the papers and drawn by the illustrators that showed in equally graphic detail the horrendous murders. But now the trial was over now and he had been brought to the cities prison and left to languish while several appeals were proffered and denied. In the end the day of execution was set for the 13th day of October 1857 and to be carried out before sunset.

At 3:00 pm sharp the gates of the prison opened again for the last time that day. Two men dressed in black top hats and tails walked from the prison in slow measured steps to the device that was central to the unfolding drama. They moved around it, tested the board on which the condemned would lay, the leather restraints that would hold him firm to it made sure that it was as before in good working order. They tested all the parts that were to function as one making sure that there was no faltering in the system. The final test was the release of the blade, a pull on the lanyard, the catch released and the silent swiftness of the angled blade coming to rest with a “think” the crowd silenced as this final test was done. To them all was ready and they took their rightful places and waited. Time again seemed slowed as the chilling wind swept through and around everyone there, dusted up the leaves and debris around the scene as the wait went on.

Then it came the final procession, the condemned, flanked by 4 guards, a priest, the warden and other prison officials all moving in a quiet processional line toward the central device that now waited. The procession moved past the gates past the two lines of crowds and stopped just behind it. The guards stepped aside allowing the priest his last few moments with the man. He stood before him, reading, speaking, quietly anointing him with the sacred touch of the church, then said his final blessings and stepped aside allowing for the guards to step up and deliver the man the last few paces to the two men who stood by waiting.

He was taken from them in a quick and efficient manner, struggled & twisted in their grasp which to him was almost inhuman as how they held him and with practiced ease placed him against the highly polished board slipped the straps about him their infernal tightness holding him to it, making him secure to it, tilted it, lifting it, sliding him into position the one lifting the neck piece up as he was slid forward into position, making the board secure then lowering the neck piece, one bending , speaking in hushed tones then standing to face the other who’s hand was on the lanyard eyes locked in a timeless stare they had shared countless times before and would again, then a simple flicker of the eyes a slight nod, the lanyard pulled, the soft whistling swiftness of the blade, gaining speed on it descent as it comes to rest after slicing through flesh, blood vessels, muscle, the brain stem, bone, the wind pipe, esophagus and larynx and voice box with a soft palatable “ think.” The intended in a blink of an eye sees eternity perhaps in a flash, thoughts, images, memories, feelings and a host of other things that have come together for this man at this singular moment in his life time flash through his mind as the blade descends, his head still in an aware state is cleaved neatly, efficiently from his body, tumbles over for what seems to him and eternity coming to rest in the darker confines of a wicker basket, the very one he had peered at only moments before, now he was part of it and he wondered as the light in his eyes perhaps flared for that oh so brief second or two, flared hot as the sun and now as it lay at the odd angle in the wicker basket the light faded then went out, the eyes partly closed, then it was done.

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It sits now, long forgotten something from a period when justice was served and served well. It sits alone, unused bereft of victims, is majesty silent, its blade rusted by time, yet razor sharp. Looked upon by mere mortals it still send chills to the heart, shrivels the soul and makes strong men weak. It in its heyday it commanded respect and fear from all levels of society as none were exempt of its final swift kiss. It was a social gathering point on hot August day where the swill ran freely and head rolled as in procession none after the other and on through the hot days, rest only in the cool hours of the evening, then pressed into service to do the wicked and thorough bidding of its many Masters. It reigned supreme, gave no quarter and was final in is absolution of the human condition.