"The hour of my departure's come, I hear the voice that calls me home; Oh, now my God, let troubles cease, And let thy servant die in peace."
About this time Dunne, the bushranger, was executed: he attained a considerable distinction by his crimes; more, by his protracted evasion of pursuit, and his sanguinary resistance of capture; and still more, by the ceremonies of his execution and the honors of his funeral. He came forth to the scaffold, arrayed in a robe of white, adorned, both before and behind, with a large black cross. He wore a cap with a similar token, and carried a rosary in his hand. He was presented with a coffin of cedar, ornamented with the devices of innocence and sorrow; and bearing a plate, which told his name and the time of his death! As he advanced, with several youthful fellow sufferers (of whom it is only said, that they seemed _much terrified_), he continued to exclaim, smiting his breast with theatrical expression of grief--"O, Lord, deliver us!" He was followed by forty couples to the grave. Such were the honors paid to a murderer. It is not astonishing, that witnesses were insulted, and had to appeal for protection. A proposition was made by the government newspaper, to render penal the taunts which prisoners were accustomed to use against such as assisted in the suppression of outrage.
The public effect of these exhibitions will be extremely questionable by sober-minded and pious men. To see a criminal depart from this life in a hardened and contemptuous spirit is, indeed, appalling; but the serenity, and even rapture, thus common when terminating a career of guilt and cruelty, often entered into the calculation of transgressors. Among the miserable forms of vanity, is the triumph of boasting penitence; and even when nothing else remains, the _eclât_ of a public execution. Some were anxious to commit to writing their own last confessions of guilt, to secure a posthumous interest in the terror or pity of mankind.[173] The fullest appreciation of that system of mercy, which never separates religious hope from the living, would scarcely justify confidence, founded on such demeanour and language between the cell and the scaffold.
Scarcely had this scene closed, when the prisoners in the penitentiary, allured by the prospect of escape, broke through the gaol, and seized a boat: as they approached the _Emma Kemp_, a premature display of muskets convinced them that their plan was discovered. It was, indeed, known by the officers of the gaol prior to their departure; who, calculating on their arrest, permitted the consummation of their plans. This cost them their lives: they retreated to the shore, robbed Mr. Mortimer of eight stand of arms, and commenced their career as bushrangers. They were evidently unwilling adventurers, and soon taken. The Governor, at their execution, compelled the attendance of the prisoners, in the fallacious belief that the sight would prove admonitory as well as terrible.