Six Miles to Charleston (11 page)

Execution.—The awful sentence of law is this day to be carried into effect upon John Fisher, and Lavinia, his wife, who were sentenced to death, at the late sitting of the Constitutional Court, for the crime of high-way robbery. We understand that they are to meet their fate just without the lines, on the Meeting Street Road, between the hours of 12 and 4 o'clock.
—
Charleston Courier,
Friday, February 18, 1820

In 1834, an eyewitness recorded the events of the execution in stunning detail in an essay. The essay would be known as “Essays on Capital Punishment.” Charleston attorney John Blake White never forgot what he witnessed, and some fourteen years later he included his observations within these essays.

On February 17, 1820, the eve of the Fisher's execution, Charleston attorney John Blake White found himself called to the City Jail on professional business. He accompanied the jailer to the ground cells of the jail where the jailer unlocked a large chamber. As the jailer's lantern illuminated the room, White observed that it was filled with coffins, a disassembled gibbet, sections of rope, a shovel and pickaxe and other similar instruments. The jailer examined the gibbet to assure that it was functioning properly for the events of the following day. Two appropriately sized coffins were selected and turned over to an assistant.

White continued to follow the jailer about his duties and found himself at another cell at a remote corner of the jail. The jailer repeatedly called into the cell and eventually a voice answered from within. The voice sounded like the voice of death itself manifested in the flesh. Little did he know that it actually was the voice of death.

The jailer unbarred the door, and there White observed a haggard, pale, emaciated creature slowly rising from the floor. White would write, “It stood at length erect before us, resembling more of an anatomical preparation than a true and living man…—This was the Executioner! We stood in the awful presence of a Minister of Justice and shrunk with reverential horror at his glance!”

John Blake White had met the hangman.

The hangman was a solitary individual with no family ties. He received pension from the sheriff who found it necessary to confine him to jail in an effort to sober him prior to an execution. The hangman apparently battled with the demons of the many executions he had performed for the state. His obvious weapon to confront his memories was alcohol. Apparently his only time of sobriety was when he was confined inside the jail prior to the utilization of his talents. White states the man demanded liquor repeatedly and was refused—“Thus am I served (growled he) whenever you want my work. But give me something to drink—I must have drink and I will be contented!” White also states that the hangman was reassured that after the execution, performed well, he would be furnished as much alcohol as he desired. With that a smile came upon the hangman's face for a moment and the door was once again closed and bolted, leaving this now-functioning alcoholic to plan the Fishers' execution.

The following day, White returned to the jail at the request of the newly elected sheriff, Francis G. Deliesseline. Inside the jail, he heard a minister speaking with the Fishers over their fate and their salvation. He states that loud lamentations, sighs, sobs and moans were heard from within the cell only to be followed with eerie silence and then unnerving frantic shrieks.

White retreated to the lobby to await the sheriff and the attendants and to give the condemned their privacy. There he once again encountered the hangman arranging the ropes and the nooses. He then busied himself with the calculations necessary to ensure the proper length of the ropes. Too long and the condemned would strangle to death. Too short and the condemned would be decapitated with the head being flung wildly into the spectators. Either of these events would render this a poorly performed execution and his payment of alcohol would be deprived. The hangman would not have any of that.

As White watched the executioner with a morbid curiosity, the door to the lobby opened and the Fishers were escorted in. Lavinia's eyes fell upon the hangman and she shrieked in terror. Her cry, according to White, “chilled every heart with horror.”

The prisoners had provided themselves, at their own expense, loose white garments to wear over their clothing. They threw themselves into one another's arms in a farewell that was agonizing to behold.

After much pleading and resistance from Lavinia, the hangman adjusted his chords and restrained and pinioned the Fishers. The hangman was very cold and indifferent in the words of White. White further states that to depict the horrors of the moment it would take a literary master. He states that he was incapable of the words necessary to describe each minute instant in the terrible scene playing out in front of him. The hangman took charge of the couple and never left them for an instant. As White viewed the scene, he states of the hangman that “it was impossible to consider him but as the most debased and abandoned of the human race.” He further states that only God could define the difference between the executioner and those he executed. There was little difference.

At this point White is now referring to the Fishers as “the unhappy victims.” In contrast, he refers to the executioner as “debased.” The scene playing out before him was one he never forgot and one in which he felt pity for the condemned and disgust for the man now controlling their fate. He watched the events as one would watch a cat toying with a mouse. The hangman enjoyed every second of the game in anticipation of the kill.

The Fishers descended the stairs arm in arm to a coach waiting at the prison door. The procession moved slowly to their final destination flanked by a company of cavalry. Due to the fact that a woman was being executed, an immense crowd of spectators had assembled, which was expected. This was anticipated by those in authority—thus the need for the company of cavalry. The city had become quite fond of the Fishers and a show of military might was needed to thwart any ideas from the crowd of rescuing the couple.

As the group arrived at the site, White states that he never forgot the horrible picture of despair on the face of John Fisher as the reality set in as he first set sight on the gibbet. John Fisher turned pale at the sight. His eyes involuntarily closed and a tremor shook his entire body. As he recovered inside the carriage, he drew Lavinia to him in a convulsive grasp. In a few seconds, he looked up and nerved himself for the execution.

The Fishers and the executioner exited the carriage. As John climbed the scaffold, he looked mournfully out at the immense crowd and back at his wife. Lavinia refused to mount the scaffold. Neither persuasion nor threats moved her, and the constables were forced to drag her to the stand. She adamantly refused to believe she was destined to hang. She called to the crowd to rescue her and stretched forth her trembling arms as far as her restraints would allow and began imploring their pity. One minute Lavinia would profess her innocence and her belief that a woman should not be hanged. She then began to blaspheme, curse and stomp and damned Governor Geddes to hell for condemning a woman to hang. Silence hung over the crowd only to be repeatedly broken by Lavinia's cycle of appalling shrieks, profanity laced curses and pitiful pleas.

“The Hanging of Lavinia Fisher” by artist David Gobel.

On the gallows, John turned to his wife and tenderly pleaded with her to make peace with God. She continued to be defiant. In response to the efforts of Reverend Joseph Galluchat to lead her to repentance and prepare her for death, Lavinia spoke the words that would galvanize her in Charleston history and infamy. “Cease! I will have none of it. Save your words for others that want them. But if you have a message you want to send to Hell, give it to me; I'll carry it.”

Dr. Irving and Mrs. Stoney were also witnesses to the execution and would later state in regard to Lavinia that “Her ravings were terrible and her husband's efforts to soothe her and point her to repentance were most touching.”

Another witness, known only as G.-S. would later write to a friend that John Fisher had tried to “console his wife, and encourage her to meet death with fortitude, and a humble reliance on the goodness and mercy of Heaven.” She seemed to heed his pleas but exhibited a great unwillingness to die. He believed that she held onto hope that the state would not execute a woman.

Indeed Lavinia believed she would be pardoned. The sheriff inadvertently examined a written document in the presence of the Fishers. Lavinia grasped at the belief that it was the pardon she knew would be granted. The sheriff realized his error and refolded the document as Lavinia was about to leap from the platform in anticipation of her freedom. The sheriff, in a sober and impressive voice, assured Lavinia that her hopes in a pardon were groundless and that she would not receive one. He advised her that her moments were few and that she was indeed going to die. The words were like electricity through Lavinia, and the reality of the moment came crashing in. Her ravings stopped, and she began to call upon heaven to have mercy upon her and allow her to live. In tremendous panic and conflict, she continued to plea and cry out to God. In her final moments, she made her peace.

G.-S. states that a clergyman addressing God on behalf of the Fishers was so overcome with emotion that he could hardly speak. He observed tears on the cheeks of the pastor and described him as having been overcome by the heart-rending scene. From research, this is believed to have been Dr. Furman.

John Fisher addressed the crowd. According to the witness, G.-S., Fisher begged forgiveness of those he had ever offended and he forgave his accusers. He also proclaimed his and Lavinia's innocence.

In a letter addressed to the attending reverend and dated the day of his execution, John wrote:

Charleston Gaol. Feb. 18

Rev. and Dear sir,

The appointed day has arrived—the moment soon to come, which will finish my earthly career; and it behooves me, for the last time, to address you and the Rev. Gentlemen associated in your pious care.

For your exertions in explaining the mystery of our Holy Religion, and the merits of our dear Redeemer; for pious sympathy, and benevolent regards as concerns our immortal souls, accept Sir, for yourself, and them, the last benediction of the unfortunate—God, in His infinite mercy, reward you all.

In a few moments, and the world to me shall have passed away—before the Throne of the Eternal Majesty of Heaven I must stand—shall then, at this dreadful hour, my convulsed, agitated lips, still proclaim a falsehood? No! then by that Awful Majesty I swear, I am innocent. May the Redeemer of the World plead for those who have sworn away my life.

To the unfortunate, the voice of condolence is sweet, the language of commiseration is delightful; the feelings I have experienced in the society of Mr.___________; a stranger; he rejected not our prayer, unknown, he shut not his ear to our supplication, he has alleviated our sorrows: may God bless him. He has wept with us: May Angels rejoice with him at a Throne of Glory.

Enclosed, Sir is a key that secretes my little all; Give it him, and say for me, as he deserted me not while living, I hope he will discharge my last request. Now my property is to be disposed of, he will find explained in a paper within my trunk, to which is attached a Schedule of the whole. I only wish him to see it removed to a place of safety, until to whom it is given shall call for it. The hour is come.

Farewell, Sir, Farewell!

John Fisher

This letter was read aloud to the crowd. The recipient's name was left blank at its reading and all subsequent referrals to it also have the name redacted. Most speculate it was Reverend Furman, but exactly who it was and exactly what John Fisher left behind remains unknown. It is believed the name was left out to protect the recipient of the letter until after John Fisher's belongings were dispersed as Fisher wanted.

Both the
Charleston Courier
and the
Charleston Gazette
would also carry the story of John Fisher's proclamation of innocence. The
Gazette
even published his letter.

A letter published below, was there read, by a Rev. Clergyman to whom he had addressed it yesterday, protesting his innocence—to which he added a short address to the same purport, but accusing some persons of having been instrumental in causing him to suffer for a crime of which he was not guilty. He asked pardon of the spectators for any wrong or injury he might have done them.

The Fisher letter's proclamation of innocence also had an effect on G.-S. He writes:

It is indeed a pathetic letter, and if he has there told the truth, which I can scarcely doubt, I pray that God may have mercy on his accusers. The opinions of a jury generally lean to the side of justice, but like all men else, they are liable to be mistaken. I would charitably hope, that in the case of Fisher and his wife, they have been mistaken; for the strongest circumstantial evidence, should be required, in a case of life and death to warrant the conviction of the accused party, and I can scarcely believe that a man would leave the world with the solemn declaration of innocence of the crime for which he suffered, on his lips, if he was in fact and in deed, the perpetrator of it.