FIRST COUPLE HANGED IN CANADA
The Tragedy of Mary and Richard Aylward

by Paul Kirby

It wasn't easy for young Mary O'Brien to leave her home in County Limerick. She was, after all, only 12 years of age. But like many parents in the early and mid-1800s, her mother and father wanted her to have the opportunity of a better life in America, and sent her to join her older sister in Connecticut. A "better life" was not what awaited her, however. Her fate would be death a few short years later on a cold winter's morning on the gallows in Belleville, an event which is recalled even today as a tragic miscarriage of justice.

"I was born in Tours, parish of Arpatrick, County Limerick, Ireland," she wrote from her prison cell in December 1862, scant days before she died. "I am 23 years of age." It was one of a number of heart-wrenching letters she wrote in her final days to her three young daughters.

Mary journeyed to America with her brother John O'Brien (who would die before 1862) on one of the many "coffin ships" which plied the waters between Ireland and States. The two landed in New York and remained there for two weeks before moving on to join ther sister Ellen in Lakefield County, Connecticut. Nine years later she met Richard Aylward, two years her junior, whom she married at Poughkeepsie, New York, on August 15, 1855. Richard was born in County Carlow in 1836 and emigrated in 1850.

"The following February we came to Puslinch near Guelph to his aunt, Mrs. Doyle," wrote Mary. The young couple moved with their two infant children another two times before settling in Hastings County, Ontario in 1861. They lived briefly at Kaladar, then joined others who were settling the newly-opened area along the Hastings Road, now the Bancroft area. Today the journey is a pleasant 90-minute car ride; then it was an arduous four- or five-day horse and wagon trek.

CABIN OF LOG AND ROOF OF BARK

"In order to facilitate the settlement of the country," outlined the Hastings County directory of 1860-61, "the government has authorized free grants of land along this road, not to exceed in each case one hundred acres . . ." The settlers would receive title to the land after they "had put into a state of cultivation at least twelve acres of land" over a four-year period. They were also required to build a house of at least 20 feet by 23 feet.

"The log house required by the government is of such description as can be put up in four days by five men. The neighbours generally help in the building of the log cabin for newly-arrived settlers, without charge, and when this is done, the cost of the erection is small. The roof can be covered with bark, and the spaces between the logs plastered with clay and whitewashed."

There would be varying characterizations, before and after the trial of the Aylwards, as to their nature and friendliness. The descriptions were much related to the position taken– innocent or guilty – of the person offering. Some said both were neighbourly, other stated Mary was often sarcastic. One witness at their trial said the young couple had the community in fear of them, while those of a countering view said they were well-liked.

In 1862 relations with one particular neighbour, Mr. Munro, began to deteriorate. The Aylwards lived south of the newly-built Peterson Road in Wicklow Township; the Munro family lived directly opposite, across the road in Monteagle Township. What was the cause of the dispute which led to three deaths and three children being orphaned? A hen. The Munros' fowl had a tendency to wander from their side of the road to the Aylward property where they would partake of grain in Richard Aylward's wheat field.

THE MISSING HEN

On May 16, 1862 in the later afternoon, Munro was told by his wife that one of the hens was missing and that she had heard the sound of a gun shot. He went, with his son Alexander, to confront Richard Aylward about the possible "fowl play". Richard said he did not shoot the hen, had not seen the hen, and did not have the hen.

Munro did not believe Aylward's declaration of innocence and suggested the hen might still be in the field. Aylward, Munro and Alexander proceeded to the field. The facts of the rest of the story, however, are a mixture of fiction, accusations and denials. At some point in the field a gun was drawn by Aylward and a scuffle ensued as Munro attempted to gain control of the gun. A shot was fired and Alexander was hit in the backside with 29 lead pellets. During the altercation Mary had come up to the field and struck out at Munro with a scythe, cutting his upper arm. She then hit him again, this time causing a severe head wound. Munro and son managed to make it home but the father died a week later.

Once the news of the incident travelled to outside communities, Mary and Richard Aylward were arrested, charged with murder and taken to the cells in Belleville where they spent the final eight months of the lives. They were held separately, seeing each other during the court appearance: their three small daughters saw them only once, two days before their parents were hanged.

UNFORTUNATE PRECEDENT

The trial was held in the autumn of 1862 at the Fall Assizes in Belleville at the Courthouse on Church Street in Belleville, where the county building now stands. Prior to the Aylwards' appearance in court, however, was a case that would impact greatly on the verdict pronounced on the young Irish couple.

A couple of months earlier, Maurice Moorman, a city resident, had been involved in a fight over liquor with some other young men looking for a good time, along what is now Cannifton Road. During the incident 19-year-old Lorenzo Taylor had been stabbed by Moorman, in view of witnesses, and had soon after died. All evidence clearly pointed to Moorman stabbing Taylor. Within half an hour of being sent out of the courtroom to deliberate by Judge Chief Justice Draper, the 12 men returned with a verdict: not guilty. The jury's decision was very popular with Moorman's supporters, who attempted to "raise a cheer" in the court room, but Chief Justice Draper's shock and disgust with the verdict, while more subdued, was equally as obvious. (He wrote in his private deskbook, "A strange verdict. I expected at least a verdict of manslaughter.") Judge Draper remained silent: the community didn't. It was outraged. The Hastings Chronicle editorialized: "A verdict of manslaughter might have some argument to support it, but one of "not guilty" seems simply incredible. The jury might as well have said that the unfortunate young man Taylor had not been killed, as to say that the prisoner did not do it. Indeed, after the verdict, we might ask the Coroner as well as the Coroner's jury whether they are quite certain that the young man is dead. If every man is to be permitted to take the life of his neighbour with impunity in defence of a bottle of whisky, we might as well reside in California as Canada. We trust that another verdict like this will never be recorded in Belleville." The next case on the docket was the murder trial of Richard and Mary Aylward. It was not a good omen.

Ten witnesses were called during the trail, which lasted less than one day. Most were neighbours who gave contradictory testimony or embellished upon what a previous witness had said – either pro or con. The officer of the peace, who arrested the Aylwards, had to admit that he lost the gun and the scythe involved with the case. He and his prisoners stopped midway at Madoc.

RECOMMENDATION OF MERCY

Evidence by three witnesses showed that although Munro was seriously injured with a head wound he did not die immediately. Despite the urgings of family and friends he even refused to seek medical help. His own son Alexander testified that his father said he would rather die than be attended to by the "Indian doctor". At the end of the day, after a brief deliberation, Richard Bird, foreman of the twelve-man jury, announced the verdict of "guilty with a strong recommendation of mercy".

The judge, Chief Justice Draper, added, "I must tell you that the law allows me no discretion in the matter. I will lay the case before the proper authorities but I deem it my duty to warn you not to spend the short time which outraged humanity yet allows you in the world in vain hopes and useless endeavours for mercy . . ." He closed the trial by pronouncing that Mary and Richard Aylward be "taken thence to the place of execution and be there hanged by the neck until you are dead."

Rev. Brennan, the curate at St. Michael's Church, an Irish immigrant himself, who had counselled the couple through their imprisonment and trial, launched an appeal. He petitioned that Mary's conviction be reduced to manslaughter and that Richard be unconditionally released. Robert Read, the local MP took the case to the floor of the House of Commons. All appeals and petitions failed. The execution would take place as scheduled.

DRUNKS IN THE CROWD

At a quarter past eleven o'clock, on Monday December 10, 1862, the sad procession began its short journey from the cells in the courthouse into the frigid air. It is impossible to imagine Aylwards' reaction when they entered the yard of the Courthouse to see a massive throng of over five thousand people – many of whom were drunk – there to witness their death.

The Hastings Chronicle reported: "The crowd kept increasing, and every street and spot within the vicinity of the Courthouse was alive with a moving mass of humanity. There were old men with whitened locks and bent forms, and infants nursing on their mother's breasts, young men and maidens, boys and girls, of all sizes and ages. And there they stood on that bitter cold morning, surging to and fro."

With cries of "Get them out here!", "Hang them!" and the like filling the air from the rowdy crowd, the procession solemnly approached the gallows. First came the Deputy Sheriffs and Bailiffs and the hooded hangman. With a "deathly pallor on her countenance" Mary Aylward, immediately followed by her husband Richard, stepped slowly, trembling, up the steps of the scaffold. And as Mary and Richard stood upon the platform, every breath was hushed, and they saw nothing but a sea of upturned, eager, anxious-looking faces. Mary was dressed all in white with a crepe shawl covering her shoulders. She also wore around her neck the noose – ready to be fastened to hooks on the gallows.

FELL TO THEIR KNEES

No sooner had they arrived on the platform, husband and wife fell upon their knees in prayer with Rev. Mr. Brennan. Following their devotions the priest assisted the Aylwards to their feet while the executioner hooked the ropes to the wooden cross-piece which would suspend them in death and covered their heads with the newly-made black hoods. This was done in an experienced, but nervous fashion, by the hangman, a short thickset man, dressed head-to-toe in a face-covering white gown.

Rev. Mr. Brennan asked Richard if he had any final words. The young man was too distraught in emotion, too broken in spirit to speak, so the priest stepped forward and addressed the crowd on his and Mary's behalf. Rev. Mr. Brennan "begged them in their charity" to pray to God that "through the merits of the Passion of Jesus Christ, he would have mercy on (the Aylwards') souls". It is doubtful the crowd heard; it is even more doubtful the crowd cared. They were there to see the Aylwards hang, to see them die. They got their wish.

The priest stepped back as the Aylwards stood with their hands folded in prayer to their God. The hangman pulled the bolt that removed the wooden floor from beneath their feet and "the spirits of the unfortunate creatures stood in the presence of their Maker." Rev. Mr. Brennan collapsed at the same moment and had to be carried from the platform unconscious.

DANCES OF DEATH

Mary's frail body contorted like a grotesque puppet on tangled strings for a minute-and-a-half until life deserted her. Richard continued to struggle for a further minute – fighting for life, fighting against death – before he too found final peace. Their lifeless bodies hung for display for a further half-hour for the satisfaction and pleasure of those who came to witness their death.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, two simple caskets containing the bodies of Mary Aylward and Richard Aylward were taken on a horse-drawn wagon the few hundred yards west along Church Street to St. Michael's Church and placed in the centre aisle.

By the time Rev. Brennan ascended the pulpit the church was filled to capacity. His sermon, which was controversial because of its defence of the Aylwards, was filled with deep emotion and on a number of occasions he broke down. Sobbing and crying was heard from the congregation throughout the service. The couple was afterward buried at the church cemetery following the service.

The youngest child of the couple, a baby, and the two older children were separated after the execution. They were adopted and raised by two supportive families.

The case did not die with Mary and Richard, however. The Quebec press became involved in a war of words with Ontario newspapers claiming that the Aylwards were hanged because they were Catholic, and the victim was Protestant. There were charges that the defence counsel was incompetent and that sufficient efforts were not made on appeals.

Mary claimed to the very end that all she did was protect her husband who was being attacked "as is my duty as a wife."

Richard Aylward, 26, and Mary Aylward, 23, were the first couple to be hanged side-by-side in Canada, and the last to be publicly executed in Belleville.