After Dark: Myths, Misdeeds & the Paranormal - Public Executions: A Day At London's Hanging Tree

Episode Date: June 30, 2024

Would you have gone? Would you have drunk with the condemned? Paid your way into their prison the night before? Public executions in London were big business with hundreds of thousands carousing through the streets alongside the condemned as they went from Newgate prison to Tyburn's infamous gallows. It was a grisly performance but one that many revelled in. Perhaps you would have too.Anthony Delaney takes Maddy Pelling out for a day at the hangings.Written by Anthony Delaney. Edited and produced by Freddy Chick. Senior Producer is Charlotte Long.Enjoy unlimited access to award-winning original documentaries that are released weekly and AD-FREE podcasts. Sign here for up to 50% for 3 months using code AFTERDARKYou can take part in our listener survey here.After Dark: Myths, Misdeeds & the Paranormal is a History Hit podcast.

This is a story about a fugitive who's been on the run for more than 30 years. A good American is a dead American. And the special agent who's spent decades trying to bring him to justice. If he had hung himself I wouldn't have lost a wink of sleep. It's about a man whose crimes appear to have simply drifted away. Or have they? I'm Chloe Hajimathay from Tortoise. This is The Gas Man. Listen wherever you get your podcasts. Newgate Prison, sometime in the 1720s.

This is the beginning of the end. There's no turning back now. This evening you will accompany James Guthrie, the Ordinary of Newgate, in some prayers. Members of the public have paid a small fee to be allowed to come and share in this ceremony with you. But they had, in truth, only come to stare at the condemned. Later, Guthrie will try to extract a confession or a denial from you. Either way, it's profitable for him.

You remain guarded, however, for you know whatever you say to him now will likely find its way into the next Ordinary accounts that he and others like him published widely for financial gain. True crime is big business and statements from the criminals themselves are a priceless addition to each publication. Later, back in your cell, you hear the bells of St Seppelcure ring out in lamentation. you hear the bells of St. Seppelcure ring out in lamentation. The sexton of that place can be heard through your prison walls. He calls on you to repent again and again and again. That night, you do not sleep.

The next morning, you join Guthrie once more in the chapel for some final heavenly appeals. By 9am, the gates of the prison open and you and the other condemned are paraded in front of a waiting crowd outside. Bizarrely, festivity is in the air. A despicable excitement as bodies rush and swell against one another. All eyes on you. You are placed in the back of a cart with the other condemned. The horse drawing the cart is told to move and the wheels turn. As they do the crowd roars. It has begun. You are about to take your final journey and they will sweep you on your way. This last voyage is only three miles long and ends at a site notorious throughout the country.

Your destination is the gallows at Tyburn, and there you will be hanged. Hello and welcome to After Dark, I'm Maddie. And I'm Anthony. And this episode we're going to be heading, as Anthony has just told us, into the shadow of Tyburn. Now on this podcast we often talk about executions and hangings in particular, but what actually happens at a hanging? What does the crowd look like? What happens if you are the person going to be executed? We're going to get into it today. Anthony, let's just start with what is Tyburn? So we're going to be going on a bit of a journey today. You've started us off leaving from Newgate Prison on our way to Tyburn. What is Tyburn? So Tyburn is quite an ancient spot of execution in London, basically. It has been there since around the 12th century.

Now, not in the exact same spot as we are heading to in this narrative today, but in and around that general area. And it arose there because the Sheriff of London was then given in the 12th century, given jurisdiction over Middlesex as well as the City of London. To make his job a little bit easier, he brought the execution site, by the way. There were more than one at this point, but an execution site was raised there. It would have been far more rudimentary than what we're going to be describing in the 18th century. But as far as we know, the first recorded execution took place in that general area by a stream in 1196 and it was William Fitz Osbert, who was a populist uprising leader and he played a, he was one of the leaders of the, of a revolt in London. We get another famous execution in 1571. The Tyburn tree is, as it was known,

it's another name for basically just the place. Now the reason it's, the Tyburn Tree is, as it was known, it's another name for basically just the place. Now the reason it's called the Tyburn Tree, just to make clear, is because it's a wooden structure and it is that game you play, that word game, the hangman's noose game, where you see a single line holding what eventually becomes a stick person. It's that type of a hanging mechanism in the 16th century. And it's located then we can more specifically say it's located at the junction of today's Edgeware Road, Bayswater Road and Oxford Street. So we're talking in the Marble Arch area if you were to go there today. That makes it sound so mundane.

Yeah, well, it was a little bit, actually. Yeah, I mean, this is the thing, I think, that we're going to go on to discuss, but just how every day this place was the events that happened there in terms of executions, they were fairly routine. And it's strange to think about now that you can stand on the junction of all these roads that you know, if anyone's ever been to London, you will have probably walked down at least one of these roads, you would have been in this area. And that that was the place where so many people were executed, those deaths are witnessed by so many people. It just it just seems odd. And I suppose it's one of the great things about London in particular, that it has those layers of history on what we were talking about this last time we were in London, actually together that wherever you stand in the city, there will be so many stories to tell, so much human experience layered up there. And for any archaeologist who's ever worked in the city, the second you go down into the ground, there's just so much information of so many centuries of

lives. I always love that about London. Anyway, I digress, continue. No, but it's true. London is deliciously haunted by history. And I don't necessarily mean that in a ghostly way, but it's around you. You feel it. It's there. It's also that Tyburn was specifically, as you say, a very mundane site in many ways, but also very extraordinary. It's this kind of tension between the mundane and the extraordinary because we've spoken about this on other podcast episodes with Ronald Hutton, for instance, when Oliver Cromwell and Henry Arton and John Bradshaw were exhumed following the restoration of Charles the Second. Then their heads were taken to Tiber and even though they

weren't actually killed there, you know, so it's really symbolic as a location. And then from that point onwards, the structure was kind of constantly there. And it was, as you were kind of saying, it was part of a mundane everyday. You could just pass by this. I mean, I think it is worth pointing out that in the context of the 16th century, particularly, this is not a hugely populated part of the city. It slowly becomes built up over time, but it's still on the outskirts of the city. It's not like it's miles and miles and miles away, but it's not exactly the busy thoroughfare that it is today.

But it gets to that point. I suppose as well, that's the kind of symbolism of taking people who have been accused and found guilty of crimes worthy of execution, of taking them out of the civilised city, quote unquote, and to those outskirts, and that that is a kind of symbolism, and that actually the procession and the route on the way is as important as the final destination. That's so true, because if people are not seeing this, which is why it still needs to be close to London, right? If people are not seeing this, then it's pointless. People need to see public executions. There is a lesson to be learned from them. And if they are taking place behind closed doors, which they

could easily do, and they do later in the 19th century, then who's learning the lesson? What's the point of capital punishment? So they very much want people to see these things as they unfold. very much want people to see these things as they unfold. So before prisoners are taken out to Tyburn, they are most typically held in the condemned cell at Newgate prison, which is one of London's biggest prisons. And I would say probably it's most notorious in terms of the prisoners inside in terms of their treatment. This is a prison that you can pay to go into,

you can view celebrity criminals. In the 18th century, we get criminals like Jack Shepard escaping multiple times, I think something like 10 or 11 times, you know, through several locked doors and out of windows with impossibly narrow bars and all of that. So it's a real fortress of a place. And again, it's a very symbolic part of the city, part of the administration of justice. And it has this, this church, St. Seppulchres, next to it. And there's actually a tunnel underground that connects the two of them. And one thing that's always talking of the ghostliness of this, something that's always haunted me, is that the priest at St. Seppulchres on the night before any execution would ring the bell, the church bell, and this is a handbell, not something

up in a steeple, which is still there, at least one of these bells is still there, I think you can go and see it in the church today. And they would say a prayer that in some records I've come across in the 18th century is recorded as being almost a song. And there are lyrics to it about, you know, it's sort of addressed to the prisoner who's going to be executed and saying, you need to repent your sins, you need to prepare your soul for what's coming the next day. And it's such a tangible moment the night before someone's killed in this incredibly dark, dingy, but very formalised, very symbolic environment. The symbolism is very deliberate, especially once you reach the condemned cell. Now, a lot of people in Europe, when they were looking at the system in Newgate that led to Tyburn, they thought it was slightly

inhumane because it would take a little bit longer than it would in Europe if you were being condemned to die. That would happen quite quickly. But in England, you might have spent, or in London, specifically in Newgate, you might have spent quite a few weeks, if not maybe even a few months, in Newgate before you were tried and then before you were hanged. During that time, if you survived, that was a boon because Newgate was notoriously infested. It would all depend on which part of the prison you were in. Some parts didn't get daylight at all. You were crammed in with other prisoners. There were lice everywhere. This was not, as you can imagine, a very pleasant place to be. But once you are condemned, and once you are sentenced to hang, you are then taken to the condemned cell. And you might have a couple of days there,

depending on when the next hanging was. And hangings were, as we will see later in the episode, they were scheduled. So in the condemned cell, you would be in there with the other people who would be condemned to hang on the same day as you. So there might be, you know, six, seven, eight of you in there at any one time. That eight would be a lot for one day, but you know, anything up to that. And again, the conditions aren't great. There's actually a sewer running through the condemned cells. If you can imagine the smells that are coming from that the waste is passing through there. But one of the things that fascinates me about this condemned cell, like think about how dark it is, your eyes have adjusted to this darkness, but then there's

a slit in the wall that faces the street. And this will be the first time since you've been in Newgate that you could have contact with the outside world. And this is to allow your friends, your family, your loved ones to come to that slit in the wall, like it doesn't even bear being called a window, but to come to this slit in the wall and say their final goodbyes. And some people, it's so heartbreaking in many ways because I can, what are those final goodbyes? And by the way, some people are being hanged for next to nothing.

Obviously people are being hanged for same sex attraction or soy, as they refer to in the 18th century. We're talking about specifically here just to make clear, but stealing bread sometimes, you know, like this is not often extreme crimes, although sometimes they are. And that's a hugely celebratized event. They're saying their goodbyes. And then I always imagine there might be one or two of them who have nobody to come. And they're sitting in that condemned cell and they have nobody and they're just in the corner on their own smelling this waste going through. It's a really harrowing experience, even I would imagine for the most hardened criminals. There's a sort of camaraderie as well in terms of that experience that you're in there with people who are going to be hanged on the same day as you. And it makes me think as well about the graffiti that would have been left in there because Newgate doesn't exist anymore. We've lost that environment. It's now the site. Raging. I am that's the one I am most raging about. Like, I wish we still had Newgate. It like, it pains me.

Yeah, it really does. It's now the site is now partially the old Bailey where it was, of course, so it is still a centre for the justice system in a lot of ways. But we do there are some elements of Newgate that survive there are some of the doors from the prison cells that the Museum of London has in its collection. But for me, I just would have loved to have sat in that cell not to be executed, but to read the graffiti that people leave because we know from prints in the 17th and 18th century, we know from written accounts from other prison spaces that survived that people would leave graffiti, particularly in their last days, the last moments when they knew they were going to be executed. And a lot of that graffiti, interestingly, something that really developed in prisons as a sort of visual culture was the image of the gallows,

actually. And I would bet a lot of money that there would be multiple gallows carved into the walls of that condemned cell. Yeah, it seems inevitable, doesn't it? But it's funny you should mention the word camaraderie because there was the camaraderie inside the cell, there was the camaraderie inside the cell. But then there is something else much bigger happening outside. And that's going to inform the next part of the story. I'm Professor Susanne Lipscomb, and on Not Just the Tudors from History Hit, I'm looking for answers to the big questions about every aspect of life in the early modern period. Like how did the memory of Anne Boleyn continue to influence the court of her daughter Elizabeth I? How were fairies brought to life on the Elizabethan stage? And how did the arrival of male-only doctors threaten the lives of women? In other words, not just the Tudors,

but most definitely also the Tudors, twice a week, every week. Subscribe now and follow me on Not Just The Tudors from History Hit wherever you get your podcasts. This is a story about a fugitive who's been on the run for more than 30 years. A good American is a dead American. And the special agent who's spent decades trying to bring him to justice. If he had hung himself I wouldn't have lost a wink of sleep. It's about a man whose crimes appear to have simply drifted away. Or have they?

I'm Chloe Hajimathau. From Tortoise, this is The Gas Man. Listen wherever you get your podcasts. Before a condemned prisoner came to his or her reckoning at the three-legged mare, as the gallows were sometimes called in the 18th century, they had to contend with the carnivalesque folly that was their final journey to the hangman's noose. The road to Tyburn must have seemed never-ending, and yet not nearly long enough. En route, the enormous crowd only grew

the nearer the condemned prisoner came to the gallows. The Tyburn crowd on a hanging day was voicerous and surprisingly jovial. Beer was swilled, hawkers called out selling their goods, pamphlets detailing the crimes of the condemned were sold, read and readily discarded. This was festival, a way for Londoners to let off some steam. The route from Newgate to Tyburn included stops at St Giles, St Andrews and at Hoburn to allow as many people as possible to gulp and gossip. Other stops included anything up to 12 tavern stops where the condemned could drink in order to rid themselves of their overwhelming fear. In the windows, all along the route, savvy owners or occupiers will have sold window space

so the curious public could get the best possible vantage of what was about to unfold. Window space was sold at a premium and was always sold out. Finally, amidst all this hurdy-gurdy, the execution party would arrive at the intersection of Oxford Street and Edgeware Road, where Marble Arch stands today. The triangular configuration of the wooden scaffold loomed ahead, a visual icon of its time.

The vertical supporting beams stood 10 feet high and were joined by planks on top from which the condemned would soon hang. In earlier times, the scaffolding had been one singular arm. But by the 18th century, they liked their public executions to be conducted en masse. Unbelievably, particularly in the case

of more notorious crimes and criminals, a temporary seating area was erected and available to the well-heeled members of society for an appropriate price. They inevitably thought themselves above such a violent spectacle, but still attended, of course. It was at this point that the horse and cart carrying the condemned was moved beneath the gallows. So what we're starting to see here is what you always refer to as the sort of business of death, the fact that executions are being monetized, we're seeing window space for sale, we're seeing presumably huge spikes in profits being made by taverns, coffee houses, any kind of sociable drinking space along the route route from Newgate to Tyburn. And people are making money off what is a fairly choreographed spectacle by the 18th century. This is something that's happening routinely. People know how to

behave. People know their place in this carnival. It's a procession that people can join. But it's chaos on one level, but it's organized chaos. It's chaos that everybody chooses to participate in and to play their part in. It is and come the 19th century, they will think city officials will think that this chaos is no longer welcome. This is too much and it's potentially even a bit unseemly and the moral compass is changing. But in the 18th century, it had its detractors. And I always find this fascinating because I think it feeds into some kind of modern mindset as well. There would be people in the 18th century, and even in the 17th century,

Peepes is one of them, who would say, this despicable thing. This is absolutely awful. But off I go to watch it though, nonetheless. So there seems to be this thing to go, no, I'm morally against this. Of course, I'm too good for this. Now I went and I have to say it was quite entertaining. But you know, so there's this tension. I think city officials take that tension out of it eventually in the 19th century. But in the 18th century, this is a festival day. It might as well be a holiday. It does beg the question, actually, I'd be interested to know what you think, because you know I said earlier, it has to be visual. For this to work, it has to be seen. And by the way, we're talking about tens, if not

hundreds of thousands of people sometimes attending, depending on the celebrity of the person involved. But I'd be interested to know what your take on it is, depending on this carnivalesque thing that people are enjoying, and the lesson they're supposed to be learning. Do you think they're learning a lesson at all? I suppose it's all about the performance of punishment, the performance of justice. And by allowing people to seemingly take part in that, there's a suggestion that the mob, the crowd, the people have a say, and that they are acquiescing, consenting

to this person being executed. And it gives from the viewpoint of the authorities, I suppose it gives the illusion that ordinary people have a say in the justice system and a justice system which of course in the 18th century is picking people up and spitting them out for all kinds of crimes that really range from you know, serious things today that would see you have prison time but also things like stealing a loaf of bread or sex between men or working as a sex worker on the street. There were all kinds of things maybe that wouldn't necessarily take you to Taiben and the execution as noose, but the criminal system, the criminal code in this moment is extreme and doesn't make any allowance for poverty or social injustice in any way really. social injustice in any way, really. And so I suppose Tyban is a useful distraction from that. It's a way for people to participate in it and to feel like they are being heard in some way. GW that extremity that you describe, I think, is really at the centre of this in many ways.

And so extreme was it at times that even people within that system were cautious of it and even repelled by it, I suppose, to a certain extent. I'm talking specifically about the role of the executioner in these days and in these hangings. Now, executioner was not a job. I think probably people know this from beheadings in the 16th century. Executioner was not a job that people wanted to do necessarily. They often found themselves forced into those positions. And one of the reasons that would be might be because of the retribution that could come not necessarily towards them themselves, but towards their family, their close loved ones.

Executioners were known, and so much so, by the way, that you can go online now and Google a list of executioners in the 18th century, and you will today find a list of those names and when they were executioner. thinking about this as a choreographed spectacle, they're playing a part, this is a performance and they're playing the character of executioner, only it's not make believe and they really do hoist someone into the air or drop them from the scaffold. You know, that's, there's a very real moment when this spectacle and performance turns into reality. But who are some of these people? And how, how do they come to do this? Because it seems to me that you'd have to be a certain type of person. I'm not really sure what type that would be, but I feel like most people would not want to take on this role. So who are they? How do they come to do this? And do we know ever how they feel about this job? To answer that last bit of the question, I wish, but probably not really. I mean, no,

no is the answer. We don't know how they feel. We could infer, of course, but we don't know how they feel. In terms of who are they, they are various many types of people. I'll give you an example from the 17th century that I think is a bit, the early 17th century, actually, a man called Thomas Derrick, and he was chosen because he was a criminal. Now that wasn't particularly unusual, by the way. Derrick had been convicted of rape, so a very serious crime. And he had been condemned to die. But he achieved a pardon from the Earl of Essex who said, right, we'll give you a pardon on the condition that you become the executioner at Tyburn. So that's how people are coerced or pushed into this. But of course, Thomas Derrick is faced with death or a slight notoriety or fame almost, as you were saying.

Certainly money, he's getting paid relatively well for this given the conditions of the time. And he takes on that role. He was pardoned. He executed, it's thought, somewhere around 3,000 people in his career. Yeah. But the irony is one of those people was his partner, the Earl of Essex. Let's just dwell on that for a second. Yeah.

Yeah. The irony of that. That's interesting because I've come across an executioner in the early 20s. Let's just dwell on that for a second. The irony of that. That's interesting, because I've come across an executioner in the early 18th century, who was also convicted of rape. And I suppose there's something in that people being drawn from the criminal class, because you can't have the executioner being someone from polite society. And this goes back to Taiben being located on the edge of the city, it has to be people, it has to be literally on the periphery, but also involving people drawn from the periphery. You can't, if you're in authority, if you're running the country, if you're running the justice system, if you're a judge, if you are a lawyer, any of these people, you can't muddy your hands, you deal out the clean administrative process of this. You

can't be the person on the scaffold, swinging the sword or by the 18th century, you know, tying the noose. And so there's something in that about execution is coming from that criminal class, I think that's very interesting. But I love the irony that Derek actually executed the L.O.S. six. Will Barron Yeah, it's it's now that the interesting thing about Thomas Derek in particular is you're talking about these people being coerced into these roles or taken from the margins of society, which they absolutely were. But Derek seems to have taken to his role quite efficiently. And he improves the system. Let's use that word, rather than it being just an old fashioned rope thrown over a beam, he now starts to employ some of the,

it's called a topping lift and some pulleys in the system of his hanging. So he's using technology as it's advancing to more streamline his executions. And so much so that to be derricked or the derrick became another word for being sent to the hangman's noose in the 17th century. we see this so much around Taiben. We've got, you know, the gallows called the three legged mare. And that's not something that's exclusive to Taiben. But, you know, certainly, it's used in that setting. And now we've got to be Derek that this is, again, because it's on the edge, because it's a separate thing from society, because it's such a performance, it has its own culture, it has its own culture of performance, it has its own culture of sort of spectacle, but it has its own language around it. And that is just fascinating. And it shows how, I suppose, how separate this was, even though this is an, the type that I'm talking about specifically, I suppose, is such an integral part of London life, of 18th century life, of how people understand the way the world works, and what happens if you push the boundaries too far, or you transgress and commit a crime. But actually, it is its own thing, as well exists in its own little universe outside of that. And I think that gives it real power. outside of that. And I think that gives it real power. In many ways, is reminiscent of a stage, right? And the stage has that same type of power, where it is a performance space,

as you're saying that there are people who need to play their roles. And then there is an audience, it's very much and you know, this, these were scheduled, there was eight hanging days a year. So so these performances were scheduled performances. People will have known when they were happening so they could, you know, get this into their diaries should they have them like Samuel Beeps had. And they were at the time considered the biggest tourist attraction or one of the biggest tourist attractions in their day.

These are formative and they are, you know, one of the most important social events of the calendar. So it's something we can't really, I don't think, relate to. And that's why I think we find it, it's actually one of the things that fascinates me most about this. When we talk about this or when I hear other people talk about 18th century capital punishment. The first thing out of most historians' mouths is, of course, I would never go. Like, it's terrible. It's really, really bad. In modern parlance, it absolutely is. But I can't say that in the 18th century, I wouldn't have gone to one of these things, because everybody was going. I'm sure I would have gone to these things. So it's interesting, the differences

between the moral perception then and now. Yes, people were a bit sniffy at times in the 17th and 18th century, but they went. LARY And it was interesting that you mentioned Samuel Peep there, because of course he's this great observer, as well as being, let's face it, a very questionable character morally himself. And you know, anyone who's delved into stories will find that he is a pretty dreadful person. But well, you'll have fallen asleep before you got to that point, because oh, my god, it's all the shade. Wow. But you know, he's he's an observer of people. And I think it would have been hard to resist for

anyone who loves people watching or is interested in human behavior. I think it would have been hard to resist for anyone who loves people watching or is interested in human behaviour, I think it would be hard to resist going and observing this event and all the different elements of it. And I'm not necessarily talking about the moment of death for the person being executed, but the whole carnival around it, I think, is fascinating. And talking of these observations and accounts, I think we're about to hear from another 18th century observer. We are. This comes to us from the 18th century, from César de Sozour, and it is a foreign view of England in the reigns of George I and George II. So this comes to us as a Swiss traveller's

outside view of what's happening at Tyburn. as a Swiss traveller's outside view of what's happening at Tyburn. One often sees criminals going to their death perfectly unconcerned, others so impenitent that they fill themselves full of liquor and mock at those who are repentant. When all the prisoners arrive at their destination, they are to mount on a very wide cart made expressly for the purpose. A cord is passed round their necks and the end fastened to the gibbet, which is not very high. The chaplain who accompanies the condemned man is also on the cart.

He makes pray and sings a few verses of the Psalms. Relatives are permitted to mount the cart and take farewell. When the time is up, that is to about a quarter of an hour, the chaplain and relations get off the cart. The executioner covers the eyes and faces of the prisoners with their caps, lashes the horses that draw the cart, which slips from under the condemned men's feet. And in this way, they remain all hanging together. You often see friends and relations tugging

at the hanging men's feet, so that they should die quicker, not suffer. The bodies and clothes of the dead belong to the executioner. Relatives must, if they wish for them, buy them from him. And unclaimed bodies are sold to surgeons to be dissected. You see most amusing scenes between the people who do not like the bodies to be cut and the messengers the surgeons have sent for bodies.

Blows are given and returned before they can be got away, and sometimes, in the turmoil, the bodies are quickly removed and buried. So we've moved on to the point of death and beyond now in the execution process. And again, we're seeing that monetization of every element really. You've got the relatives or friends of the executed if they have them and as you say I'm sure lots of people were executed without anyone that they knew present. It's something people always mention the pulling on the legs to haste and death and it's such an evocative and human thing I suppose. Then you've got the surgeons coming in potentially wanting to take bodies away to cut them up on the anatomy table for medical research. And then you've got the

families trying to protest against that and pay off the surgeons so they don't do that. You've got the families as well having to buy back, I think was mentioned, the effects of the deceased in order to remember them, that they're having to literally pay for the belongings of their friend or their family member. There are so many dynamics here and who has the power and the authority here is really unclear. It's almost like crows descending on a corpse. You know, everyone wants a piece of it for different reasons and for different motivations. If I had to pick somebody who had power in that scenario, it might well be the executioner, because everything hinges on his decision. And the executioner can say, no, I won't take

your money. This body belongs to the anatomist, even if it's being offered for whatever reason. I can't imagine there'd be many cases in which he would refuse the money. And by the way, that money is additional to the money he's being actually paid to carry out his duties. amongst this melee as almost a salesperson in that moment after the hanging has been, almost like an auctioneer was going, is it you, is it you, is it you? And this body is literally at the centre of this where, and in some cases this is happening, they are being pulled between two parties that the bodies are literally being fought over and stretched and pulled and handled. being fought over and stretched and pulled and handled. And it's chaos. But the other thing to point out is it's classed as well, because the surgeons have sent messengers. It's not the surgeons themselves, because they again, like the magistrates that you were talking about earlier, they're not going to dirty their hands with this. This is for people below them to sort out, but bring me my goods nonetheless. And obviously those messengers are being paid by the surgeons.

Bodies are useful and they are worth money in this time and they are in short supply. And if you're not getting them from criminals, then you're running into very dangerous territory in terms of how you're procuring them. It's interesting that you liken the executioner to an auctioneer because the auctioneer is really an invention of the 18th century that auction houses are really born in this era. There are auctions that happen in the centuries beforehand, but this idea of the flamboyant auctioneer almost as a celebrity in their own right interacting with a crowd who are bidding on things rises in this moment. interacting with a crowd who are bidding on things rises in this moment. In terms of Tyburn, we've spoken about it, its long history going back to the end of the 12th century and the late 12th century. And it's very much alive for most of the 18th century. So when does it stop being in use?

So the last hanging at Tyburn specifically is on the 3rd of November 1783. And it was. So it was still in the 18th century. Yeah, yeah, yeah. And it was John Austin, and he was a high woman. Then, as I was saying earlier, the hangings moved to Newgate, but they're still public. So they're just not doing that whole journey, that this frivolity, this carnivalesque journey. So they cut that out. But then it's decided that actually in the 19th century to move that behind the closed doors of Newgate so that uninvited people, members of the general public, are not invited to see the executions.

So it retreats certainly from the centre of town and then behind closed doors in the 19th century. MS. Am I right in thinking that the site of Tyburn, as it was at the end of its career in the 1780s, that it is actually a traffic island now? Is that right? ST. It is. Because that's the world we live in now. Traffic islands galore. It is. And there are three, I don't know how I feel about this, you know, there are three young oak trees that are planted. They were planted in 2014, I think, on this traffic island to symbolize the gallows. The three, the three legged mare. That's wow. Yeah, I get it. But it's kind of a bit on the nose a bit. Is it nice? I don't know.

It feels a little bit like, I don't know. I don't know. It feels a bit slightly odd. But I do love knowing the precise spot. I think that's really, really interesting. Well, there you have it. If you're ever in London, head towards Marble Arch and go to that traffic island and have a look at those three oak trees and just have a little think about the horrific things that have happened there. We need to release an After Dark walking tour or map of Britain, don't we? With all the gruesome sites that we've discussed so far. That'd be good Maddie. That would be good. Well stay tuned. Thanks for listening to today's episode of After Dark. If you enjoyed it please leave us a

five star review wherever you get your podcasts and tell friends and family about us. It helps other people to discover us and to discover these unknown and marginalized histories. If you have any suggestions for episode topics, then get in touch at afterdark at historyhit.com. That's afterdark at historyhit.com. This is a story about a fugitive who's been on the run for more than 30 years. A good American is a dead American.

And the special agent who's spent decades trying to bring him to justice. If he had hung himself I wouldn't have lost a wink of sleep. It's about a man whose crimes appear to have simply drifted away. Or have they? I'm Chloe Hajimathau from Tortoise. This is The Gas Man. Listen wherever you get your podcasts. you