FEMALE EXECUTIONS: Martyrs, Murderesses and Madwomen
This edition published in 2013 by Summersdale Publishers Ltd.
First published as LIPSTICK ON THE NOOSE by Summersdale Publishers in 2003.
Copyright © Geoffrey Abbott, 2003, 2006.
Photo work by Chris Holmes Photography, Kendal, Cumbria
All rights reserved.
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OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
The Executioner Always Chops Twice: Ghastly Blunders on the Scaffold, Summersdale, 2002
A Beefeater’s Grisly Guide to the Tower of London, Hendon, 2003
Ghosts of the Tower of London, Hendon, 1989
Great Escapes from the Tower of London, Hendon, 1998
Beefeaters of the Tower of London, Hendon, 1985
Tortures of the Tower of London, David & Charles, 1986
The Tower of London As It Was, Hendon, 1988
Lords of the Scaffold, Hale 1991/Dobby, 2001
Rack, Rope and Red-Hot Pincers, Headline, 1993 / Dobby, 2002
The Book of Execution, Headline, 1994
Family of Death: Six Generations of Executioners, Hale, 1995
Mysteries of the Tower of London, Hendon, 1998
The Who’s Who of British Beheadings, Deutsch, 2000
Crowning Disasters: Mishaps at Coronations, Capall Bann, 2001
Regalia, Robbers and Royal Corpses, Capall Bann, 2002
Grave Disturbances: The Story of the Bodysnatchers, Capall Bann, 2003
William Calcraft, Executioner Extraordinaire!, Dobby, 2003
Grave Disturbances, the Story of the Body-Snatchers, Capall Bann, 2003
A Macabre Miscellany, Virgin, 2004
William Calcraft, Executioner Extraordinaire!, Eric Dobby, 2004
More Macabre Miscellany, Virgin, 2005
It’s a Weird World, Virgin, 2006
Who’s Buried Under Your Floor?, Eric Dobby, 2007
The Gruesome History of Old London Bridge, Eric Dobby, 2008
Plots and Punishments, Willow Bank, 2010
Crowning Disasters and Royal Corpses, Eric Dobby, 2011
Execution, Summersdale, 2012
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Geoffrey Abbott served in the RAF for 35 years then became a ‘Beefeater’ at the Tower of London. He has written more than 24 books on torture and execution, has appeared in numerous TV documentaries as consultant or executioner and, by invitation, has written entries on torture and execution for the Encyclopedia Britannica. He once stood on the ‘drop’ trapdoors in the execution chamber of Barlinnie Prison, Glasgow (as a fact-finding author, not a convicted criminal!) and has also experienced having a noose placed around his neck by a professional hangman – the late Sydney Dernley, a man endowed with a great, if macabre, sense of humour! He lives in the Lake District and keeps his adrenaline flowing by piloting small, temperamental helicopters.
FOREWORD
Geoffrey Abbott is an enthusiast, a natural storyteller with a gift for resuscitating dead trifles. With inside information and access to the worst, he revels in shocking and enlightening.
He is an actor on a paperback stage relishing the role of narrator, star and epilogist. He defies you to leave his theatre until you have the player’s last words haunting your mind.
As a visitor to all of Geoffrey’s previous productions I heartily invite you to another triumph. Let the show begin!
Jeremy Beadle (1948–2008)
Jeremy Beadle was a keen student of true crime for many years. Before television beckoned he was a hugely successful tourist guide specialising in blood, sex and death. He won Celebrity Mastermind, specialist subject London Capital Murder 1900–1940, was the host of international Jack the Ripper Conferences and amassed one of the finest true-crime libraries in Britain.
To Michelle with thanks for her continued active encouragement, without which my pen is completely non-productive!
CONTENTS
Introduction
Martyrs, Murderesses and Madwomen
Appendix 1: Types of Torture
Appendix 2: Types of Punishment and Execution
For the Record
Select Bibliography
INTRODUCTION
The Law, in its wisdom, did not differentiate between men and women when it came to passing sentence of death on those found guilty of capital offences, and so in these pages you will read how, in some countries, many women were first tortured on the rack, in the boots, by the bridle, the water torture or the thumbscrews. They were whipped and exposed to public humiliation in the pillory; they died by the rope, axe, and sword; by the electric chair, the gas chamber, the firing squad; by being pressed beneath heavy weights or boiled to death, by lethal injection or burned at the stake; by being drowned, or beheaded by the guillotine or Scottish Maiden. Nor, afterwards, were they all given a decent burial; some were dissected, others skinned to provide bizarre souvenirs.
A few, such as Margaret Clitheroe and Alice Lisle, were martyrs; some, such as Marie Brinvilliers and Mary Ann Cotton, were serial murderesses; others, like Elizabeth Barton and Mary MacLauchlan, were mentally unbalanced and, in more civilised times, would instead have been given the necessary psychiatric treatment.
Some executions were botched either by the executioners or by the equipment involved, yet despite the appalling ordeal they faced, some women were incredibly brave, some resigned to their fate; a few fought with the executioner, others were hysterical or in a state of collapse; some indeed were totally innocent, yet nevertheless were put to death.
But even the Law with all its sombre overtones has its lighter side, and so the cases are interspersed with quirky quotes.
MARTYRS, MURDERESSES AND MADWOMEN
A
Antoinette, Marie (France)
Nine long agonising months had passed since her husband King Louis XVI was beheaded by the guillotine, his execution ecstatically applauded by the revolutionary mob, and it was not until the dreaded day arrived, 16 October 1793, that the executioner Charles-Henri Sanson and his son Henri reported to the Conciergerie, the Paris prison, to collect Queen Marie Antoinette and convey her to the scaffold. In the vast room known as the ‘Hall of the Dead’ Marie awaited, guarded by two gendarmes. Nearby stood Bault, the turnkey, whose wife had provided their distinguished prisoner with a cup of chocolate and a bread roll.
As the two executioners entered, the Queen stood up. The Vicomte Charles Desfosses, who was present, later wrote: ‘I had time to observe the details of the Queen’s appearance and of her dress. She wore a white skirt with a black petticoat under it, a kind of white dressing-jacket, some narrow silk ribbon tied at the wrists, a
plain white muslin fichu [a shawl or scarf] and a cap with a bit of black ribbon on it. Her hair was quite white; her face was pale, but there was a touch of red on the cheekbones; her eyes were bloodshot, and the lashes motionless and stiff.’
Charles-Henri and his son respectfully removed their hats. ‘Gentlemen, I am ready,’ she exclaimed, as the former started to explain the need to prepare her for the ordeal, and she turned slightly to display the back of her neck from where her hair had been cut away. ‘That will do, I think?’ she continued, and then held out her hands for him to secure.
Under strong guard the entourage was then escorted out of the building to where the tumbril, the horse-drawn cart, stood. Her hands being tied, the Queen allowed herself to be assisted into the vehicle, where she sat down facing forward on the plank that served as a bench. Charles-Henri, a man totally averse to the task of decapitating the aristocratic victims of the Revolution but realising that refusal would simply result in his being replaced by someone who would doubtless not hesitate to treat them with savage brutality, gently persuaded her to turn and sit facing the other way so that she would not see the guillotine until the very last moment.
The courtyard gates swung open, those on duty forcing the tumultuous, jeering crowd to give way as the cart lumbered out on the street. To prevent any attempt at a rescue, the route was lined with 30,000 armed soldiers, cannons also being positioned at all intersections, squares and bridges. Marie Antoinette ignored the screams of abuse from the massed spectators; instead she studied the numbers on the houses as the cart trundled along the Rue St Honoré‚ looking for a cleric, the Abbé du Puget, who had agreed to stand near a certain house and give her absolution in extremis as she passed. On seeing the prearranged sign from him as he stood on a pile of stones, she bent her head and prayed.
As the vehicle approached the scaffold site it halted near the Tuileries, the palace in which her two children had been imprisoned. For a moment she swayed, and Sanson heard her murmur ‘My daughter! My children!’ before the cart advanced, finally to halt by the scaffold. Once again she had to be assisted by Charles-Henri in order to dismount, and she looked round in surprise on hearing him whisper, ‘Have courage, Madame!’ She paused for a moment, then replied, ‘Thank you, sir, thank you.’
As she approached the scaffold escorted by the two men, the younger executioner attempted to take her arm, but he desisted on hearing her exclaim, ‘No; I am, thank Heaven, strong enough to walk that short distance.’
The execution of Marie Antoinette
By that time the noise from the immense crowd had reached a crescendo, the tumult intensified by the drummers’ successful efforts to drown any last words that might be spoken by the victim. Wasting no time, young Henri led the Queen forward and swiftly bound her to the upright hinged plank of the guillotine, the bascule. As he did so, she exclaimed: ‘Farewell, my children, I am going to join your father.’ Next moment the executioner swung the plank into the horizontal position so that she lay immediately beneath the pendant blade. The iron lunette dropped with a resounding clang, its half-moon shape pinning her neck immovable, and Charles-Henri operated the lever, causing the weighted blade to fall and sever the Queen’s head instantly.
The sound of the blade’s impact had scarcely ceased reverberating around the square before wild cheers, intermingled with cries of ‘Vive la République!’ broke from the multitude of spectators, the roar increasing as one of the executioners complied with tradition by lifting the severed head from the basket into which it had fallen, holding it high for all to see. The gory trophy was then placed in the nearby coffin together with the body and carried to the cemetery of La Madeleine. There all the Queen’s clothing was removed and taken away for disposal; her remains were covered with quicklime, the coffin then being buried next to that of her husband.
Following Marie Antoinette’s execution, revolutionary Jacques Hebert exultantly wrote: ‘All of you who have been oppressed by our former tyrants, you who mourn a father, a son, or a husband who has died for the Republic, take comfort, for you are avenged. I saw the head of the female fall into the sack. I could describe to you the satisfaction of the Sans-Culottes [his fellow agitators] when the rich tigress drove across Paris in the carriage with thirty-six doors [referring to the intervals between the staves that formed the sides of the tumbril]. She was not drawn by her beautiful white horses with their fine feathers and their grand harness, but a couple of nags were harnessed to Master Sanson’s barouche [carriage] and apparently they were so glad to contribute to the deliverance of the Republic that they seemed anxious to gallop in order to reach the fatal spot more quickly. The jade, however, remained bold and insolent to the end. But her legs failed her as she got upon the see-saw [the bascule] to play hot cockles [the choking sound made by a victim as the lunette pressed their head down], in the fear, no doubt, of finding a more terrible punishment before her, after death, than the one she was about to endure. Her accursed head was at last separated from her crane-like neck, and the air was filled with cheers of victory for the Revolution!’
It may, perhaps, give readers some satisfaction to know that less than six months later, Hebert himself, his legs failing him, had to be lifted out of the tumbril, half-fainting with horror at the fate awaiting him; bound to the bascule, he too cried hot cockles before the blade descended!
Antonio, Anna (USA)
Sometimes the condemned person had to wait an unconscionable length of time before being executed, and one wonders whether it was due merely to a laborious judicial process or, more disquietingly, to a society which deliberately meted out retribution in that fashion. On occasion the delays were further exacerbated by the issue of a temporary reprieve or two; if so, Anna Antonio’s crimes must surely have been the most horrific ever, for she was granted no fewer than three reprieves, with all the accompanying mental suffering and suspense – and then she was electrocuted.
She had been found guilty of conspiring with two men, Sam Faraci and Vincent Saetta, to kill her husband, who had been found murdered on Easter morning 1932, the court being convinced that her motive was to claim his life insurance money. All three were sentenced to death by electrocution, and although her lawyers submitted an appeal, it was rejected by a higher court.
Her execution was scheduled to take place in Sing Sing Prison at 11 p.m. on 28 June 1934. The executioner, Robert G. Elliott, a man renowned for his expertise, arrived, and after examining the electric chair and its associated circuitry, waited for the all-important official witnesses to arrive and take their places in the death chamber. But time passed and it was not until 1.15 a.m. that he was informed that just before 11 p.m., Saetta, also awaiting execution, had stated to the prison’s warden that he and his accomplice Faraci had committed the murder, and Anna Antonio had had no part in it. On being notified of this, the State Governor had granted a 24-hour delay. When Anna was given this information, she was so overcome with relief at having escaped the death penalty that she fainted.
On reporting to the prison 24 hours later, the executioner was told that the postponement had been extended to a week.
Then further complications arose, another respite being granted in order to examine some recently discovered evidence. At that stage the mental state of the condemned woman can only be imagined; suffice it to say that her wardresses reported their prisoner’s condition alternated between bouts of hysteria and collapsing into a semi-coma. Eventually the decision was issued that the executions would take place on 9 August and all hopes were dashed.
The decision to execute Mrs Antonio aroused much controversy nationally, many declaring it to be a grave miscarriage of justice in view of Saetta’s statement exonerating her from involvement; even Robert G. Elliott expected her sentence of death to be commuted to one of nominal imprisonment, but it was not to be.
On the fatal day the prison warden visited Anna in the condemned cell to hear her deny once more the charges against her, she pointing out that her husband was a drug dealer wit
h guns in the house, giving her the opportunity to kill any time she had wished to. The two men, she went on, had told her they intended to kill her husband (probably for reneging on a drug deal) but all she had wanted to do was to safeguard her children. Then, utterly resigned to her fate, she walked calmly to the death chamber, rejecting all offers of assistance from her escort.
Seating herself in the electric chair, she trembled slightly as the straps were tightened about her, her voice shaking as she prayed with her priest, Father McCaffrey. Upon the cleric moving away, executioner Elliott positioned the electrodes on her head and leg and, returning to the control panel, immediately operated the switch. The official witnesses watched with mounting revulsion as the powerful current surged through her, causing her to jerk convulsively, faint tendrils of smoke rising from behind the mask which covered her face, the pungent smell of burning flesh filling the close confines of the room. Then, as her body slumped in the restraining straps and the hum of the current ceased, the doctor, stethoscope in hand, moved forward and confirmed her demise. And it was of little or no consolation to anyone that the executions of the actual murderers, Faraci and Saetta, then followed.
As it was considered that no reports of executions could possibly be complete without a description of how victims were dressed at the time of their deaths, the New York Times satisfied their readers’ insatiable curiosity by including the vital information that Anna Antonio ‘wore a pink dress trimmed with a white collar, which she had made while in prison’.
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