_Executed opposite Mitre Court, Fleet Street, on the 7th of March
1733, for the murder of Mrs. Lydia Duncombe, Elizabeth Harrison,
and Anne Price._
"How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none?"
[Illustration: SARAH MALCOLM.]
The portrait of this sanguinary wretch Mr. Hogarth painted in
Newgate; and to Sir James Thornhill, who accompanied him, he made the
following observation: "I see by this woman's features that she is
capable of any wickedness."
Of his skill in physiognomy I entertain a very high opinion; but
as Sarah sat for her picture after condemnation, I suspect his
observation to resemble those prophecies which were made after the
completion of events they professed to foretell. She has a locked-up
mouth, wide nostrils, and a penetrating eye, with a general air that
indicates close observation and masculine courage; but I do not
discover either depravity or cruelty; though her conduct in this, as
well as some other horrible transactions,[196] evinced an uncommon
portion of both, and proved her a Lady Macbeth in low life.
Her infatuation in lurking about the Temple after perpetration of the
crime for which she suffered, it is difficult to account for upon any
other principle than that general remorse and horror which tortures
the minds of those who shed a brother's blood; and that overruling
Providence, which by means most strange brings their guilt to light
and their crimes to punishment;
"For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ."
The circumstances which attended her commitment and execution were
briefly as follows:--
At noon, on Sunday the fourth of February 1733, Mrs. Duncombe, a
widow lady, upwards of eighty years old (who lived up four pair
of stairs, next staircase to the Inner Temple library); Elizabeth
Harrison, another elderly person who was her companion; and Anne
Price, her servant, about seventeen years of age, were found murdered
in their beds. The maid-servant, who was supposed to be murdered
first, had her throat cut from ear to ear; but by her cap being off,
and her hair much entangled, it was thought she had struggled. The
companion, it was supposed, was strangled; though there were two or
three wounds in her throat that appeared as if they had been given by
a nail. Mrs. Duncombe was probably smothered, and killed last, as she
was found lying across the bed with a gown on; though the others were
in bed. A trunk in the room was broke open and rifled.
About one o'clock at night, a Mr. Kerrell, who had chambers on the
same staircase, came home, and to his great surprise found Sarah
Malcolm, who was his laundress, in his room: he asked her how she
came to be there at so unseasonable an hour, and if she had heard of
any one being taken up for the murder? She replied, "that no person
had yet been taken up; but a gentleman who had chambers beneath, and
had been absent two or three days, was violently suspected." "Be that
as it may," said Mr. Kerrell, "you were Mrs. Duncombe's laundress,
and no one who knew her shall ever come into these chambers until her
murderer is discovered: pack up your things and go away." While she
was thus employed, Kerrell observing a bundle upon the floor, and
thinking her behaviour suspicious, called a watchman to whom he gave
her in charge. When she was taken away, and he searched his rooms
with more care, he found several bundles of linen, and a silver pint
tankard, with the handle bloodied. This confirmed his suspicions,
and, accompanied by a friend, he went down stairs, and asked the
watchman where he had taken Malcolm? This faithful guardian of the
night very coolly replied, "that she had promised to come again
next day, and he had let her go." Mr. Kerrell declaring that if she
was not immediately produced he would commit him to Newgate in her
stead, the fellow went in search of her; and though her lodging
was in Shoreditch, he found this infatuated woman sitting between
two other watchman at the Temple gate. She was then committed to
Newgate; and there was found concealed in her hair, eighteen guineas,
twenty moidores, five broad pieces, five crown pieces, and a few
shillings.[197]
On her examination before Sir Richard Brocas, she confessed to
sharing in the produce of the robbery, but declared herself innocent
of the murders; asserting upon oath, that Thomas and James Alexander,
and Mary Tracy, were principal parties in the whole transaction.
Notwithstanding this, the coroner's jury brought in their verdict of
wilful murder against Sarah Malcolm only, it not then appearing that
any other person was concerned. Her confession they considered as a
mere subterfuge, none knowing such people as she pretended were her
accomplices.
A few days after, a boy about seventeen years of age was hired as
a servant by a person who kept the Red Lion alehouse at Bridewell
Bridge; and hearing it said in his master's house that Sarah Malcolm
had given in an information against one Thomas and James Alexander,
and Mary Tracy, said to his master, "My name is James Alexander, and
I have a brother named Thomas, and my mother nursed a woman where
Sarah Malcolm lived." Upon this acknowledgment, the master sent
to Alstone, turnkey of Newgate; and the boy being confronted with
Malcolm, she immediately charged him with being concealed under Mrs.
Duncombe's bed, previous to letting in Tracy and his brother, by
whom and himself the murders were committed. On this evidence he was
detained; and frankly telling where his brother and Tracy were to
be found, they also were taken into custody, and brought before Sir
Richard Brocas. Here Malcolm persisted in her former asseverations;
but the magistrate thought her unworthy of credit, and would have
discharged them; but being advised by some persons present to act
with more caution, committed them all to Newgate. Their distress was
somewhat alleviated by the gentlemen of the Temple Society, who,
fully convinced of their innocence, allowed each of them one shilling
per diem during the time of their confinement. This ought to be
recorded to the honour of the _law_, as it has not often been the
_practice_ of the profession.
Though Malcolm's presence of mind seems to have forsaken her at the
time when she lurked about the Temple, without making any attempt
to escape, and left the produce of her theft in situations that
rendered discovery inevitable, she by the time of trial recovered
her recollection, made a most acute and ingenious defence,[198] and
cross-examined the witnesses with all the black-robed artifice of a
gentleman bred up to the bar. The circumstances were, however, so
clear as to leave no doubt in the minds of the court, and the jury
brought in their verdict--guilty.
On Wednesday the 7th of March, about ten in the morning, she was
taken in a cart from Newgate to the place of execution, facing Mitre
Court, Fleet Street,[199] and there suffered death on a gibbet
erected for the occasion. She was neatly dressed in a crape mourning
gown, white apron, sarcenet hood, and black gloves: carried her
head aside with an air of affectation, and was said to be painted.
She was attended by Doctor Middleton of St. Bride's, her friend
Mr. Peddington, and Guthrie, the ordinary of Newgate. She appeared
devout and penitent, and earnestly requested Peddington would print
a paper she had given him[200] the night before, which contained,
not a confession of the murder, but protestations of her innocence;
and a recapitulation of what she had before said relative to the
Alexanders, etc. This wretched woman, though only twenty-five years
of age, was so lost to all sense of her situation, as to rush into
eternity with a lie upon her lips. She much wished to see Mr.
Kerrell, and acquitted him of every imputation thrown out at her
trial.
After she had conversed some time with the ministers, and the
executioner began to do his duty, she fainted away; but recovering,
was in a short space afterwards executed. Her corpse was carried to
an undertaker's on Snow Hill, where multitudes of people resorted,
and gave money to see it: among the rest, a gentleman in deep
mourning kissed her, and gave the attendants half-a-crown.
Professor Martin dissected this notorious murderess, and afterwards
presented her skeleton, in a glass case, to the Botanic Gardens at
Cambridge, where it still remains.
The portrait from which this print was engraved is remarkably well
painted, and now in the possession of Mr. Josiah Boydell, at West
End. It was probably copied from that which was painted in Newgate,
which was in the collection of Mr. Horace Walpole, at Strawberry
Hill. It will not appear extraordinary that Hogarth should have
delineated her twice, when we consider, that from the print he
published there were four copies, besides one in wood, which was
engraved for the _Gentleman's Magazine_.
Thus eager were the public to possess the portrait of this most
atrocious woman. All these delineations were what the painters call
half-lengths; her whole figure was never engraved, except for this
work.