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 "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.