The original gallows probably consisted of two uprights with a cross-piece, but when Elizabeth’s government felt that more adequate means must be provided to strengthen its subjects’ faith and enforce the penal laws against Catholics, a new type of gibbet was sought.  So in 1571 the triangular one was erected, with accommodation for eight such miscreants on each beam, or a grand total of twenty-four at a stringing.  It was first used for the learned Dr. John Story, who, upon June 1st, “was drawn upon a hurdle from the Tower of London unto Tyburn, where was prepared for him a new pair of gallows made in triangular manner”.  There is rather a gruesome tale of how, when in pursuance of the sentence the executioner had cut him down and was “rifling among his bowels”, the doctor arose and dealt him a shrewd blow on the head.  Doctor Story was followed by a long line of priests, monks, laymen and others who died for their faith to the number of some three thousand.  And the Triple Tree, the Three-Legged Mare, or Deadly Never-green, as the gallows were called with grim familiarity, flourished for another two hundred years.

In the early eighteenth century it appears to have been the usual custom to reserving sentencing until the end of the sessions, but as soon as the jury’s verdict of guilty was known steps were taken to procure a pardon by the condemned man’s friends.  They had, indeed, much more likelihood of success in those times when the Law was so severe than in later days when capital punishment was reserved for the most heinous crimes.  On several occasions in the following pages mention is made of felons urging their friends to bribe or make interest in the right quarters for obtaining a pardon, or commutation of the sentence to one of transportation.  It was not until the arrival of the death warrant that the condemned man felt that the “Tyburn tippet” was really being drawn about his neck.

No better description can be given of the ride to Tyburn tree, from Newgate and along Holborn, than that furnished by one of the Familiar Letters written by Samuel Richardson in 1741: 

I mounted my horse and accompanied the melancholy cavalcade from Newgate to the fatal Tree.  The criminals were five in number.  I was much disappointed at the unconcern and carelessness that appeared in the faces of three of the unhappy wretches; the countenance of the other two were spread with that horror and despair which is not to be wondered at in men whose period of life is so near, with the terrible aggravation of its being hastened by their own voluntary indiscretion and misdeeds.  The exhortation spoken by the Bell-man, from the wall of St. Sepulchre’s churchyard is well intended; but the noise of the officers and the mob was so great, and the silly curiosity of people climbing into the cart to take leave of the criminals made such a confused noise that I could not hear the words of the exhortation when spoken, though they are as follows: 

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