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.
You prisoners that are within,
Who for wickedness and sin,
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.
Lord have mercy upon you.
Christ have mercy upon you."
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:
All you that in the condemned hold do lie,
Prepare you, for to-morrow you shall die.
Watch all, and pray, the hour is drawing near,
When you before the Almighty must appear.
Examine well yourselves, in time repent,
That you may not to eternal flames be sent;
Forswear your sins, trust in Christ's merit,
That Heavenly grace you may inherit;
And when St. Sepulchre's bell to-morrow tolls,
The Lord have mercy on your souls!
Past twelve o'clock!
[Illustration: THE BELLMAN.
All you that in the condemned hold do lie,
Prepare you, for to-morrow you shall die.]
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.
[Illustration: THE "EXECUTION BELL," ST. SEPULCHRE.]
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.