SARAH MALCOLM.
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?"
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.