The morning of the committal hearing arrived quietly. Ned was nervous but made an effort to hide it. Roused by the guard, Ned stood in the doorway of his cell as it was opened. He walked forward and looked up to where McIntyre stood against the railing outside the condemned cell. Between them, the gallows loomed ominously.
“What a pity they should hang a fine fellow like Ned Kelly up there,” Ned mused aloud.
He returned his gaze to McIntyre who looked haggard and pale. Ned smirked.
“Still, better than a wombat hole, hey, McIntyre?”
— Glenrowan, Chapter 15: The Rule of Law.
This photograph was taken in the exact spot described in the above extract from the book, and roughly from Ned Kelly’s view (I had to get a slightly lower angle in order for my camera to capture everything I wanted). This cell in Beechworth Gaol housed Ned Kelly as he was unable to ascend the staircase. It was here than he had his late-night interview with David Gaunson, his solicitor, who was still unsure of the details of the murder case upon which to build a defence.
Constable Thomas McIntyre had stayed in the condemned cell next to the gallows for his own protection, as it was believed Kelly Sympathisers would try to assassinate him prior to the trial as he was the main witness in the murder case. He was still suffering ill-health from his ordeal at Stringybark Creek, which would eventually lead to him leaving the police force. The bruising on his back following his incredible escape had been so bad that a doctor had to drain the blood to stop it going necrotic and killing him.
The gallows are to the right of the image, just out of shot. Ned Kelly had mistakenly believed that if he was to hang it would be in Beechworth, as that was the nearest gaol with a working gallows to where the crime took place. He did not anticipate the authorities moving him to Melbourne to avoid Sympathiser influence on the trial outcome, and to prevent any attempts to free Kelly or smuggle in a means of suicide. Indeed, the authorities had stopped Maggie Skillion from delivering Ned clean clothes for fear they would be used to smuggle in some means by which Kelly could commit suicide, thus cheating the hangman of his paycheque.
This moment was important in the book to demonstrate Ned’s character, particularly his questionable sense of humour and the inability to “read the room” which would frustrate his counsel’s attempts to prevent his condemnation in the eyes of the press as much as the jury. It was also important for contextualising McIntyre’s behaviour in court, as the head games Ned was playing with him pushed him to the point of near collapse while on the stand. McIntyre was not in a good way to be giving evidence, but he did so out of a sense of duty as a policeman and to avenge the slaying of Lonigan, Scanlan and Kennedy.
Part of the dialogue was taken from an anecdote about Ned being taken to his cell, though slightly reworded. As he would have had to walk under the gallows to reach his lodgings, no doubt it would have been weighing on him that he was likely to come through that very trap door. As it was reported at the time:
…on seeing the gallows, on entering the gaol, he said, “What a pity that a fine fellow like Ned Kelly should be hung up there.”
The Yass Courier, 13 August 1880, p.3
For the purposes of the book, I merged this moment with another anecdote, which came from McIntyre’s own reminiscences of escorting Kelly from Melbourne Gaol to the station at Newmarket for his committal hearing in Beechworth.
We reached the jail at 8.30 a.m., driving right in we were not long there until Kelly was brought out by some warders and Mr. Castieu the governer of the jail. The prisoner had improved with his residence in jail, but he was lame and used crutches. When he saw us he said, “I suppose you fellows are going to hang me, here is McIntyre and I know he is going to do it.” Making no reply to this his next remark, “This is better than a wombat hole, eh, McIntyre.” Caused me to smile with that feeble smile which any allusion to that animal produces, and I almost ejaculated: “Et tu Brute.” Here were our unpleasant positions brought out at the first remarks he made. Mr. Castieu, the governer, said to him, “Now Kelly, your best game is to be quiet.” Kelly replied, “D— it, ain’t I always quiet?”
A True Narrative of the Kelly Gang, by T. N. McIntyre. Chapter 10, p.98-99.
It is clear that Kelly taunted McIntyre with this comment about the wombat hole knowing that it would shame the constable in the eyes of his colleagues, although McIntyre maintained good humour in the face of a cruel joke.
It made sense to me to combine the two comments in one defiant display of tastelessness from Ned as he was quite plucky ahead of his court appearance by most accounts, and luckily for me, as an author, the novel allows a bit of creative licence. Thus, these two isolated instances, when combined, create a poignant moment where Ned and McIntyre reflect on where they’ve come from and what is coming.
Glenrowan 