Kelly Gang armour. This is the helmet and breastplate worn by Ned.
11. Silenced
What if you were there...
The jail’s quiet today. They’re all listening. They want to hear the crash as the trapdoor falls. They hope to hear the crack as his neck breaks. So that they can tell their grandchildren they were there when Ned Kelly was hanged. I’m still working though. Scrubbing at these miserable prison shirts till my hands are wrinkled like prunes. Tomorrow I might be washing Ned’s shirt. The one he died in. There’s no clock here in the prison laundry, but I can see the sun through the one barred window—high up so that none of us women can climb out of it. My poor Ned. I reckon he’s got no more than ten minutes of life left to him. I wish I could be with him to comfort him. I suppose he’s remembering it all now, just like I am, wondering how it might have been different.
I keep seeing him as he was when he was a boy. Always cheerful, always ready to help. And with a way of saying things that would always have us in fits.
We had a happy home up at Greta. It wasn’t much, just a wooden hut. We weren’t rich. We struggled with that patch of land, but we were happy and we had each other. We were content. If the troopers had let us alone, we’d still be there today. But they wouldn’t let us alone. Not for five minutes. They blamed my boys for every bit of mischief from Wallan to Wodonga. It was as if their one aim in life was to see the Kelly boys behind bars.
And the girls, they wouldn’t leave them alone either. Handsome, strong-willed girls they are and there was always some trooper with his eye on one of them. They’d wake us in the middle of the night with a cock and bull story about looking for a stolen saddle. They’d turn us all out of bed and ransack the house just so they could see the girls standing shivering in their nightgowns. That snake Fitzpatrick, he was the worst of them all.
I never touched Fitzpatrick, no matter what they say. I swear before the God I will soon see, I didn’t hit him. Even if I had, he was wearing his helmet. I could hardly have killed him. That’s what made my Ned so angry. And then when they put me in jail, not for a few months but for three years, that was the end of it. Ned wouldn’t rest until I was free. That’s what turned my son into a wanted man. He would have done anything for his sisters and me.
The warder tells me thousands of people are standing outside in the street. Ghouls, I said, waiting like crows for a sick lamb to die. No, he said, sympathisers who were willing to put their names on a petition to save Ned’s life. Imagine that.
It must be nearly time. I’ve prayed for a miracle. Nothing can save Ned now. They’re all watching me, the other women, the warders, waiting for me to cry out or fall in a faint. I won’t give them that satisfaction. I’ll just keep scrubbing these shirts. If I shed a tear, it will mingle with the sweat and the steam. No one will know.
I hope Ned can stay strong and die like a Kelly. God knows his true nature and I pray He will forgive him his crimes and look after him as he deserves.
Mrs Ellen Kelly, Ned’s mother
Captive
Ned recovered from his wounds, though his hands were crippled and his left arm useless. The police made only one charge against him, that of the murder of Thomas Lonigan at Stringybark Creek. The authorities were still afraid of Ned, even though he was safely in jail. He was kept in solitary confinement with a guard outside his cell keeping a 24-hour watch in case he tried to commit suicide. He was not allowed to have any visitors. The police made one exception to this rule—his mother was permitted to see him. It was the first time they had seen each other for almost two years.
The money from the bank robberies had been spent or given away. There was no money for Ned’s defence. His sisters could not raise the required money. Five months after the Glenrowan siege, Ned stood in the dock of the Supreme Court in Melbourne, his case defended by a young and inexperienced barrister whom he had never met. The young man knew less about the case than the average person. He had been out of Victoria for most of what was now known as the Kelly Outbreak.
As he stumbled through his clumsy speech, the barrister called no witnesses to defend Ned. Ned himself, a man known to be good with words, didn’t say anything in his own defence. The Jerilderie Letter, in which Ned explained how he and his family had been wronged, was not read. The trial lasted less than two days.
The judge at the trial was none other than Sir Redmond Barry, the same man who had sentenced Ned’s mother so severely. The jury took less than half an hour to consider their verdict. Justice Barry draped a black cloth over his head, but could not resist speaking to the famous man who had been silent throughout the trial. Ned spoke softly and clearly. He stated that he wished he had spoken in his own defence. Justice Barry pronounced the sentence: death by hanging.
Ned’s last words to the trial judge, Sir Redmond Barry, after he had sentenced him to death were, “I will see you there where I go.” The judge died suddenly 12 days later.
“If my life teaches the public that men are made mad by bad treatment, and if the police are taught that they may not exasperate to madness men they persecute and ill treat, my life will not be entirely thrown away.”
Interview with Ned Kelly while in Beechworth Prison, the Age, 9 August 1880
“I do not pretend that I have led a blameless life, or that one fault justifies another, but the public in judging a case like mine should remember that the darkest life may have a bright side, and that after the worst has been said against a man, he may, if he is heard, tell a story in his own rough way that will perhaps lead them to intimate the harshness of their thoughts against him, and find as many excuses for him as he would plead for himself.”
Interview while in Beechworth Prison, the Age, 9 August 1880
“It is not that I fear death;
I fear it as little as to drink a cup of tea.
My mind is easy as the mind of any man in this world as I am prepared to show before God and man.
A day will come at a bigger court than this when we shall see which is right and which is wrong.”
From Ned’s trial as reported in the Argus, 29 October 1880
Last-minute Pleas
Ned still had faith in the written word. In his cell he produced a series of three letters to the Governor of Victoria setting forth his defence. The shoot-out with the police had left Ned with crippled hands. Unable to write, he dictated them to a prison guard.
Opinion had swung in Ned’s favour again. A public meeting to save Ned’s life attracted a crowd of 4000 people. Just five days before his execution his solicitor started a petition to save Ned’s life. In that short time 32,000 signatures were collected. His sisters and brother walked to Government House to plead with the Governor in person. But none of these efforts were successful.
The Gallows
Ned Kelly was hanged in the Melbourne Gaol in Russell Street at 10 a.m. on 11 November 1880. He was 25 years old. He was accompanied to the gallows by a priest carrying a cross, who had just administered the last rites, and three other ministers. His mother, Ellen Kelly, in the last months of her three-year sentence for the attempted murder of Constable Fitzpatrick, was working in the women’s wing of the same jail just metres from where Ned was hanged. Outside the jail a crowd of 5000 people gathered to mourn his death.
Ned’s last words were reported by one journalist as “Such is life”. Another newspaper said they were “Ah well, I suppose it has come to this”. Either way, Ned was calm to the last and resigned to his fate.
The hangman put the noose around Ned’s neck, pulled a white execution hood over his head, strapped his arms to his side and pulled the lever which opened the trapdoor. As the priest muttered prayers, Ned fell two-and-a-half metres and was hanged by the neck.
Grisly Deeds
After Ned’s death a plaster cast of his head was made. A death mask of the executed criminal was put on display at the Bourke Street Waxworks the very next day. The death mask can still be seen in the Old Melbourne Gaol and many people who see i
t remark on the peaceful expression on the face.
Ned’s head was then cut off, his brain removed for scientific examination and his skull was sent to be examined by a phrenologist. But that was not the end of it. Doctors and students taking part in this post mortem examination then proceeded to take pieces of the body as souvenirs. The disfigured, headless body was then buried in the prison grounds in an unmarked grave.
Reading His Bumps
At the time of Ned’s death it was believed that phrenology could prove that the size and shape of the brain was responsible for a person’s personality. Phrenologists made maps of the human skull and divided them into characteristics such as pride, bravery and secretiveness. They thought that the shape and size of the “bumps” on a skull showed if the areas of the brain below were large or small. A phrenologist examined Ned’s skull after he was hanged. He said that because of the large areas of self-esteem, destructiveness and love of power, it was obvious that Ned was destined for a life of crime. He particularly noted the small size of the “caution” area.
Ned’s skull was reportedly used as a paperweight on a public servant’s desk until it was taken to the Old Melbourne Gaol as an exhibit. It was stolen from a glass case in the Gaol in 1978.
A Royal Commission
Though Ned didn’t live to see it, his actions did have an effect. There was an outcry for an inquiry into the way police had handled the whole affair. Four months after Ned’s execution, the Royal Commission of Enquiry into the Circumstances of the Kelly Outbreak began. Though Ned’s trial had lasted for less than two days, the Royal Commission lasted for six months. This time it was the police who were on trial.
The Royal Commission was very critical of the police force. From the Chief Commissioner down, almost every policeman involved in the Kelly Hunt was reprimanded. Ned would have been pleased to know that all of his enemies suffered because of their bungling response to the Kelly Outbreak.
Sergeant Steele was rewarded for his part of the capture, but demoted because of his actions at the siege; Chief Commissioner Standish, who had already retired, was severely criticised for the “grave error” of reducing the number of police in Kelly Country; Superintendent Sadleir was found guilty of “errors of judgement” and demoted; Superintendents Hare and Nicolson were forced to retire; Inspector Brooke Smith, who was now a mental wreck, was declared to be lazy and incompetent and was also made to retire; the police at the Sherritt hut were found guilty of cowardice and disobeying orders. Constable Bracken was the only policeman to get any praise from the Royal Commission. The newspaper reporters on the scene at Glenrowan received more praise than the police did.
The £8000 reward was divided up among 67 people who were involved with the gang’s capture at Glenrowan—most of them were policemen. The crew of the train was also rewarded. Superintendent Hare received £800—the largest cut of the reward. Mr Curnow, the schoolteacher who stopped the train, came next with £550. He complained that this wasn’t enough and the amount was raised to £1000.
No Rest
Ned’s remains were buried in an unmarked grave in the grounds of the Old Melbourne Gaol. Almost 50 years later, the bodies of a number of prisoners were dug up and reburied in the grounds of Pentridge Prison. Then in 2009, the bodies were exhumed again after the closure of the prison, when work began to convert the prison to a housing estate, parklands and a business precinct.
The remains of 34 people were unearthed and many of the bones were mixed together, but there was one set of bones in a wooden box. It was an almost complete skeleton. The only piece that was missing was the skull.
Forensic Proof
The remains were handed to the Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine (VIFM) for identification. The investigation took 20 months. Samples of bone from all the skeletons were sent to Argentina for analysis by the EAAF (Argentine Forensic Anthropology Team). A blood sample was taken from, Leigh Olver, a great-grandson of Ned’s sister Ellen. His DNA was compared to the DNA from all the remains found at Pentridge. Mr Olver’s DNA matched that of the skeleton found in the box.
Bullet holes were found in the bones which matched the wounds Ned had received at Glenrowan and recorded by a doctor before he was hanged. More than 130 years after his death, Ned’s body had been found and identified. The news made headlines around the world.
“To think a group of scientists could identify the body of a man who was executed more than 130 years ago, moved and buried in a haphazard fashion…is amazing.”
Attorney General of Victoria Robert Clark, 2011
Ned’s Head
A man who had claimed for many years to have Ned’s skull finally agreed to hand it over for forensic examination in 2009. DNA from the skull was compared to Mr Olver’s DNA. It did not match. The skull was the one stolen from the Old Melbourne Gaol back in 1978, but it was not Ned’s.
The whereabouts of Ned’s skull is still a mystery.
Final Resting Place
“There is one wish in conclusion I would like you to grant me, that is the release of my mother before my execution as detaining her in prison could not make any difference to the Government…also if you would grant permission for my friends to have my body that they might bury it in consecrated ground.”
Ned Kelly, letter to the Governor of Victoria, 10 Nov 1880
The Victorian government returned Ned Kelly’s remains to the Kelly family. On 20 January 2013, 132 years after his execution, his remains were reburied in the Greta Cemetery where his mother, brother Dan and other family members are also buried. Ned finally got his wish to be buried in consecrated ground.
A new headstone commemorates the Kelly burials, including Ned’s, but it does not mark the site of his grave. Because of concerns that vandals might try to dig up the remains of this famous man, the grave was sealed with concrete and is unmarked.
Still Famous After All These Years
More than 200 books have been written about Ned Kelly. The first film made about Ned Kelly was The Story of the Kelly Gang, an Australian film made in 1907. It was the first feature film ever made in the world. When it was advertised they measured the length of the film in feet (4000 feet), not in minutes. Only nine minutes of the film have survived. This was unearthed from a Melbourne rubbish tip. The first screenings of The Story of the Kelly Gang were banned by the government. They thought the story might incite people to become outlaws.
Many artists have made Ned and his exploits the subject of paintings and sculptures. There have been plays, TV programs, museum exhibitions—even a rock opera, a ballet and a jazz music composition. In 1980 Ned became the first criminal to be commemorated by the Australian postal service when a pre-stamped envelope featuring him was issued.
The authorities made a copy of Ned’s Jerilderie Letter, but the original disappeared sometime after 1913. It resurfaced again in 2000 and is now held at the State Library of Victoria. Ned’s wish to have his letter printed and distributed for everyone to read eventually came true—but not until 50 years after his death. It is now posted on the Internet and has been read by millions of people, not only in Australia, but around the world.
More than 120 years after his death, people are still fascinated by Ned Kelly. Though few relics remain, tourists visit Glenrowan, Euroa and Jerilderie. In the museum at the Old Melbourne Gaol, every day there are visitors who want to see the gallows where Ned was hanged. In the souvenir shop there is a selection of Ned Kelly souvenirs, including tea towels, fridge magnets and toys. It’s hard to imagine what Ned would make of this, if he could see it. Probably nobody would be more amazed by his continuing fame than Ned himself.
In a country founded by convicts and poor migrants, Ned Kelly has become a symbol of the battler fighting against the odds. He was a larrikin but he had a good heart. He was a criminal but he fought against injustice and never gave up. The fact that he failed and is still considered to be a hero is a uniquely Australian sentiment.
Historians still sift though the evidence and d
ebate the unanswered questions. Did Ned shoot Fitzpatrick? What were his plans at Glenrowan? Was he a bad man or a saint? People will go on talking about Ned Kelly for a long time to come.
What They Said About Ned
People who were involved in the adventures of the Kelly Gang were haunted by their experiences for the rest of their lives. Speaking about the events years later, here is what some of them had to say about Ned and the Kelly Gang.
Superintendent Hare, 1894
“Ned Kelly was a flash ill-looking young blackguard… Notwithstanding all [his] boasted pluck and boasts, how game he would die etc., he was the only one who in any way showed the white feather…he begged for mercy, and asked [the police] to spare his life. There is no doubt that, had he been able to walk, he would have gone off, leaving his comrades behind in the hotel.”
Samuel Gill, editor of Jerilderie newspaper, 1910
“The raid on the bank at Jerilderie was skilfully designed, every detail having been carefully thought out. The plot laid to trap the police and gain possession of the police-station was the work of no ordinary mind.”
Constable Fitzpatrick, 1911
“Ned Kelly rises before me as I speak. Considering his environment, he was a superior man. He possessed great natural ability, and under favourable circumstances would probably have become a leader of men in good society, instead of the head of a gang of outlaws.”
Mrs Kelly, 1911
“Think what the police have done to me and mine, and then tell me if you wonder that the boys turned and smote the ones who had so persecuted them. If they had been trying to provoke the boys to break the law and retaliate, they could not have done more than they did, and I firmly believe they were trying.”
Mrs Jones, owner of Glenrowan Inn, 1911
“I well remember Kelly coming to my place that dreadful night… [He] said he would shoot me if I refused to do everything that he told me… Ned Kelly was most cruel to all of us that day. He said if he could see his way to burn down the house and those who set the police onto him, he’d do it.”