Execution of J. Rutterford, at Bury St. Edmunds, for the Murder of J. Hight
This morning, at the county prison, Bury St. Edmunds, James Rutterford underwent the last dread sentence of the law, for the wilful and deliberate murder of John Hight, a gamekeeper, in the employ of Maharajah Dhuleep Singh, at Eriswell, Suffolk, on the 31st of December last. The prisoner, since his condemnation, has displayed a perfect indifference as to his awful situation, and when spoken to about the murder, always tried to avoid it. He has been constantly attended by the worthy chaplain, and has paid particular attention to what he said, but in a quiet surly mood. The prisoner was visited last week by a government inspector, for the purpose of examining the neck of the prisoner, the gaol surgeon having reported that he had a malformation, which might cause an unusual degree of suffering on death being inflicted by strangulation. The inspector came to the conclusion that there was nothing in the neck of the convict to prevent his being hanged in the usual manner.
The sheriffs arrived at an early hour, and immediately proceeded to the condemned cell, where they found the prisoner earnestly engaged in his religious duties, with the worthy chaplain of the prison. The time had now arrived for the prisoner to be pinioned, the operation of which was quickly performed, and the wretched man thanked the parson, the governor, and other officials for their kindness towards him. The procession was formed, and slowly took its way to the scene of execution. The cap and rope having been adjusted, the bolt was drawn, and the wretched man soon ceased to exist. Simultaneously with the drop falling, a black flag was hoisted at one corner of the prison, announcing that the last dread sentence of the law had been carried into effect.
You Suffolk lads of each degree,
And all young men of each degree,
And when my mournful tale you hear,
For my sad end shed a silent tear.
Upon the dreadful scaffold high,
A murderer’s death I am doom’d to die.
James Rutterford it is my name,
I now must end my life in shame;
Repentance, alas! it is too late,
I must prepare to meet my fate.
My parents reared me tenderly,
And good advice they gave to me;
If to my dear mother I did attend,
I should not have met a murderer’s end.
On the 31st of December last,
Oh would I could recall the past,
With Heffer I went in search of game,
Which led to that deed I dread to name.
When poor John Hight, on that fatal day,
To the plantation came that way,
I owed him no spite, I tell you true,
It was but his duty he did do.
I know you Rutter, poor John Hight said,
Those words filled my mind with dread,
To secure my safety, I did him kill,
And his precious blood on the ground did spill.
As Heffer says, I then struck him down,
And covered him with deadly wounds,
I stopp’d his mouth I do declare,
For his dying groans I could not bear.
And then I dragg’d him in his gore,
His mangled body then covered o’er,
As my mate said, it was a sickening sight
But the eye of God brought my crime to light.
Of that deed alone I am to blame,
Heffer is innocent, I declare the same,
With my dying breath, I do him forgive,
And trust he a better life may live.
Since I have taken poor Hight’s life,
I cannot rest by day or night,
His form is ever before my eyes,
And for vengeance on his murderer cries.
That my sentence it is just, I own,
Farewell to friends, farewell to home,
How can I meet my offended God,
With my soul bow’d down with guilt and blood.
“This man was to have been hung, but they let him off because they thought it would hurt him, good Christians.”—MSS. Note attached to our copy of the above by the intended Printer and Publisher.