THE WATCHMAN, AND THE EXECUTION BELL OF ST. SEPULCHRE

Robert Dowe, citizen of London and merchant taylor, who died in 1612, bequeathed the annual sum of twenty-six shillings and eightpence to the vicar and churchwardens of St. Sepulchre, for the time being, for the delivery of a solemn exhortation to the condemned criminals in Newgate, on the night before their execution. The parish clerk, or other person that might be appointed for the purpose, it was laid down by the terms of this bequest, "should come in the night-time, and likewise early in the morning, to the window of the prison where they lie, and there ringing certain tolls with a hand-bell appointed for the purpose, should put them in mind of their present condition and ensuing execution, desiring them to be prepared therefor, as they ought to be. When they are in the cart, and brought before the wall of the church, at the beginning of their journey to Tyburn, there he shall stand ready with the same bell, and, after certain tolls, he shall rehearse a certain prayer, desiring all the people there present to pray for them."

"Admonition to the Prisoners in Newgate, on the Night before Execution.

after many mercies shown, are now appointed to die to-morrow in the forenoon: give ear, and understand, that to-morrow morning the greatest bell of St. Sepulchre shall toll for you, in form and manner of a passing-bell, as used to be tolled for those that are at the point of death: to the end that all godly people, hearing that bell, and knowing it is for your going to your deaths, may be stirred up heartily to pray to God to bestow His grace and mercy upon you, whilst you live. I beseech you, for Jesus Christ's sake, to keep this night in watching and prayer, to the salvation of your own souls, while there is yet time and place for mercy; as knowing to-morrow you must appear before the judgment-seat of your Creator, there to give an account of all things done in this life, and to suffer eternal torments for your sins committed against Him, unless upon your hearty and unfeigned repentance, you find mercy through the merits of the death and passion of your only Mediator and Advocate, Jesus Christ, who now sits at the right hand of God, to make intercession for as many of you as penitently return to Him."

Then followed the:

"Admonition to the Condemned Criminals as they are passing by St. Sepulchre's Church-wall to Execution.

"All good people, pray heartily unto God for these poor sinners, who are now going to their death, for whom this great bell doth toll.

"You that are condemned to die, repent with lamentable tears; ask mercy of the Lord, for the salvation of your own Souls, through the merits of Jesus Christ.

To see that these injunctions were duly carried out, the Beadle of Merchant Taylors' Hall was given a "modest stipend," but whether any other person drew a further sum for seeing to it that the Beadle saw the parish clerk perform the duty does not appear.

It would seem that, as time went on, the watchman who patrolled the neighbourhood at night took over the duty of performing the midnight exhortation. By that time it had been crystallised into poetic form, and was no doubt, when delivered with due solemnity under the frowning walls of Newgate at that midnight hour, a very impressive thing. Twelve o'clock sounded slowly from the belfry of St. Sepulchre, and then, heard through barred windows in those massive walls of rusticated masonry, came that deliberate recitation:

We may imagine, if we pause a moment, with the fearful story of that historic prison in our minds, the condemned men, merrymaking up to the last and receiving curious and dissolute visitors in their imprisonment, having their reckless carousing broken in upon by that awful message, and halting a moment, with an icy terror striking in upon their nerves, to realise that this, then, was the last chapter in their lives. We are not to suppose, however, that these solemn words, ordained by the excellent Robert Dowe, made a lasting impression on those for whom they were intended. The passing citizen, or the honest tradesman lying wakeful in his bed, probably was more deeply impressed. The criminals themselves, as the long story of them through the dreadful centuries shows, were mostly callous. They had, the larger number of them, long over-passed the dread of death; and even with those who were afraid, it was by tradition a point of honour to take that last journey to Tyburn as gaily as though they were the central figures in some merrymaking, instead of going to their own shameful extinction. Indeed, the populace expected no less, and while they were ready to applaud the highwayman, who made his exit in gala costume, and with something that might pass for wit on his lips, and were eager for the honour of shaking him by the hand, they were not backward with curses, stones, and mud when some poor devil, unnerved, or perhaps even penitent, broke down and was drawn, a miserable object, to the gallows.

But there were those critics who did not believe in the picturesque nocturnal method of admonishing malefactors of their approaching end. They did not consider it was possible they could be oblivious of it, or "as if Men in their Condition you'd have any stomach to Unseasonable Poetry"; as that "late famous, notorious robber," John Hall, executed 1708, very pertinently remarks in his "Memoirs."

Did those criminals who were sincerely penitent properly value Mr. Dowe and his bequest? It is to be feared they did not altogether relish being woke up from the sleep (if they had any) of their last night on earth. Of another sort than the generality of them, however, was Sarah Malcolm, who died in 1733 for the murder of her mistress, Mrs. Duncombe. "D'ye hear, Mr. Bellman," she shouted out from her window; "call for a Pint of Wine, and I'll throw you a Shilling to pay for it."

The great bell of St. Sepulchre continued to toll on the morning of executions until 1890. It was to have been sounded at the execution of Mrs. Pearcey, but a guest at the Viaduct Hotel was lying ill at the time, and a message being conveyed to the vicar, asking that it might on this occasion be dispensed with, the old custom was then discontinued, and was not again renewed. It had, in fact, been merely a sentimental survival since 1888, when the Charity Commissioners had laid hands upon, and appropriated the £50 left two hundred and eighty-three years before. The midnight bellman had ceased his warning cry in 1783, when Tyburn executions ended and Newgate's prisoners began to be executed in the Old Bailey, on the very threshold of the prison.

The original hand-bell reposes in a glass case on the north wall of the chancel of St. Sepulchre's church, with a suitable inscription.