the bed-room presented. Almost the first object which met the eye on
entering was the dead body of Mr. Bonar, with the head and hands steeped
in blood: the skull was literally broken into fragments in two or three
places; and there was a dreadful laceration across the nose, as if
effected by the edge of a poker. His hands were mangled in several
places, apparently by the same instrument: there was also a severe wound
on the right knee. From the numerous wounds on the body of Mr. Bonar,
the swollen state of his mouth, and the convulsive contraction of his
hands and knees, it is clear that he had struggled with all his force
against his horrid murderer. The most shocking circumstance connected
with this spectacle was the appearance of the night-cap, which lay a few
paces from the head, drenched in blood, with a lock of grey hair
sticking to it, which seemed to have been struck from the skull by the
violence of the blow of the poker. The pillows of his bed lay at his
feet, completely dyed in blood. The manly athletic person of Mr.
Bonar--for, though advanced in life, he seems to have been a powerful
man--gave an increase of horror to this afflicting sight. The view of
Mrs. Bonar, though equally distressing, excited more pity than terror:
though her head had been fractured in a dreadful manner, yet there was a
calm softness in her countenance, more resembling a healthy sleep than a
violent death; it might have been supposed that her life had parted from
her without one painful effort. The linen and pillow of the bed in which
she lay were covered with blood, as was also the bed of Mr. Bonar. They
slept in small separate beds, but placed so close together that there
was scarce room for a person to pass between them. The interval of floor
between the beds was almost a stream of blood. No slight additional
horror arose from the contrast of the spacious handsome apartment in
which this scene of death was exhibited. The most heart-moving spectacle
yet remained. About seven o'clock in the evening, Mr. Bonar, jun.,
arrived from Faversham, where he was on duty as Colonel of the Kent
local militia. In spite of the efforts of Mr. Angerstein, jun., and some
other gentlemen, he rushed up stairs exclaiming, 'Let me see my father!
indeed I must see him.' It was impossible to detain him: he burst into
the bed-chamber, and immediately locked the door after him.
Apprehensions were entertained for his safety, and the door was broken
open, when he was seen kneeling with clasped hands over the body of his
father. His friends bore him away, and hurried him, tottering and
fainting, into an adjoining chamber."
The officers proceeded, immediately on their arrival, to investigate all
the circumstances attending this horrid deed, and an examination of the
house clearly exhibited the fact that no stranger had been guilty of the
murder. They were at a loss to know on whom to fix their suspicions;
when the discovery of a pair of shoes belonging to Nicholson, marked
with blood, and which corresponded with the bloody footprints in the
ante room, tended to produce a belief that he was the guilty man. He had
not returned to his master's house since he had first quitted it in
search of surgical aid; and Forrester, one of the City officers, was in
consequence despatched in quest of him. After a lengthy and diligent
inquiry, he was traced to Whitechapel, and he was there found drinking
at the door of the Three Nuns Inn. He was immediately seized, and in
spite of great resistance was conveyed in custody to Giltspur-street
Compter; but he persisted in denying all knowledge of the murder. On the
Tuesday he was sent down to Chiselhurst, where the coroner's inquest sat
on the bodies of the unhappy deceased lady and gentleman, and the
evidence being gone through before the coroner, Mr. Martyr, he was
reading over the depositions of the several witnesses for their assent
and signature, when an alarm was given that Nicholson had attempted his
own life. He had been in custody of two officers, and requested leave to
go into the yard, which was refused; but he was permitted to enter a
water-closet in the passage leading to the servants' hall; while there
he cut his throat with a razor, which, it appeared, he had concealed in
the front of his breeches. The gash was so deep, and it bled so
profusely, that it was supposed he could not live many minutes. The head
seemed almost severed from his body. Two surgeons from Bromley being
fortunately present, they took the necessary steps to prevent his death,
and after a short time he was sufficiently recovered to speak; but he
persisted in declaring his innocence.
In the course of the evening, the coroner's jury returned a verdict of
"Wilful Murder against Philip Nicholson," and he was committed to the
custody of proper officers. He was subsequently visited by many persons
of distinction, whose attention was attracted by the horrible and
atrocious nature of the murder; and on Monday the 7th June, in
consequence of the annoyance and pain to which he was subjected, his
wound began bleeding afresh. In a few minutes the hæmorrhage increased
to a most alarming extent, and fears being entertained for his life, Mr.
Astley Cooper was sent for. The wretched prisoner became alarmed,
believing that he was at the point of death; and he, in consequence,
sent for Mr. Bonar, junior, to whom he made an ample confession of his
guilt, but assigned no reason for the commission of the diabolical act.
In consequence of the statement he made the garden was searched, and
concealed in a laurel bush was found his body linen deeply stained with
blood, the neck and front of his shirt being much torn, in consequence,
evidently, of the resistance made by the victims to his attack.
The wretched prisoner subsequently conducted himself more calmly than he
had hitherto done; he declared his repentance for the attempt which he
had committed upon his life, and, as much apprehension was entertained
of his death, everything that could disturb him was studiously kept out
of his way.
In consequence of the great care which was paid to him, he was at length
pronounced out of danger, and was then committed to the house of
correction, Coldbath-fields, where he remained until the 17th of August,
on which day he was conveyed to Maidstone jail for trial.
On the 20th of the same month he was arraigned upon the indictment
preferred against him, to which he pleaded not guilty. The case was
fully made out against him; and the prisoner declared that he had only
traversed the allegations in the indictment because he had been advised
to do so by his friends. The jury therefore found him guilty, and he was
immediately sentenced to death by Mr. Justice Heath in the usual form.
Immediately after the sentence, the prisoner put in a paper, and desired
it to be read. The judge said that this was irregular, but looked at the
paper, and told the jury that it contained a confession of crime, which
was imputed to excessive drinking.
The paper which he put in and desired to be read was as follows:--
"I acknowledge with the deepest contrition the justice of the sentence
unto death which has been just passed upon me. My crimes are, indeed,
most heavy; I feel their weight, but I do not despair; nay, I humbly
hope for mercy, through the infinite mercy of my Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ, who bled and died for me. In order to have a well-grounded hope
in him, my all-merciful Redeemer, I know that it is my bounden duty not
only to grieve from my heart for my dire offences, but also to do my
utmost to make satisfaction for them. Yet, alas! what satisfaction can I
make to the afflicted family of my master and mistress, whom without any
provocation I so barbarously murdered? I can make none beyond the
declaration of my guilt and horror of soul that I could perpetrate deeds
so shocking to human nature, and so agonising to the feelings of that
worthy family. I implore their forgiveness, for God's sake; and fully
sensible of their great goodness, I do hope that, for His sake, they
will forgive me. I freely give up my life as a just forfeit to my
country, whose laws I have scandalously outraged. Departing this
tribunal, I shall soon appear before another tribunal, where an eternal
sentence will be passed upon me. With this dread sentence full in my
view, I do most solemnly declare, and I desire this declaration to be
taken as my dying words, that I alone was the base and cruel murderer of
my master and mistress; that I had no accomplice; that no one knew or
possibly could suspect that I intended to perpetrate those barbarities;
that I myself had no intention of committing those horrid deeds, save
for a short time, so short as scarcely to be computed, before I actually
committed them; that booty was not the motive of my fatal cruelties; I
am sure the idea of plunder never presented itself to my mind: I can
attribute those unnatural murders to no other cause than, at the time of
their commission, a temporary fury from excessive drinking; and before
that time to the habitual forgetfulness, for many years, of the great
God and his judgments, and the too natural consequence of such
forgetfulness, the habitual yielding to the worst passions of corrupted
nature; so that the evil that I was tempted to do, that I did: the Lord
in his mercy has, nevertheless, spared until now my life--that life
which I, in an agony of horror and despair, once most wickedly attempted
to destroy: He has most graciously allowed me time for repentance; an
humble and contrite heart must be His gift; that gift I hope He has
granted to my most ardent supplications: in that hope, and bearing in
mind His promise that an humble and contrite heart He will not despise,
I, freely offering up to Him my sufferings, and my life itself, look
forward, through his most precious blood, to the pardon of all my
crimes, my manifold and most enormous crimes, and most humbly trust that
the same mercy which He showed to the penitent thief who was crucified
with him He will show to me: thus meekly confiding in thee, O Jesus!
into thy hands I commend my spirit. Amen.
"PHILIP NICHOLSON.
"This 20th August, 1813."
The signature was in Nicholson's own hand-writing: the rest appeared
written by another hand.
After sentence of death was passed, the wretched culprit was placed in
the condemned cell, which in the Maidstone jail is underground. In this
cell Mr. Bonar had an interview with him, at half-past five on Monday
morning, 22nd August, the day fixed for his execution. On his
approaching the cell, he found Nicholson on his knees at prayer.
At about twelve o'clock, the preparations for the removal of the
prisoner being nearly completed, Mr. Bonar, accompanied by his brother,
and Mr. Bramston, the Catholic clergyman, had another interview with the
unfortunate man, soon after which, the hurdle or sledge, which was in
the shape of a shallow box, about six feet by three, was drawn up to the
jail door; at each end was a seat just capable of holding two persons.
Nicholson, double ironed, was first placed in it, with his back to the
horses; he was also pinioned with ropes, and round his shoulders was
coiled the fatal cord; by his side sat the executioner; opposite to the
prisoner the Rev. Mr. Bramston took his seat, and by his side sat one of
the Maidstone jailors with a loaded blunderbuss. Everything being in
readiness, the procession advanced at a very slow pace towards Pennenden
Heath, which is distant from Maidstone nearly a mile and a half, on
which was erected a temporary drop, which had a platform raised seven
feet from the ground, and was large enough to contain about a dozen
persons. A little before two o'clock the hurdle arrived, and stopped
immediately under the gallows, when Mr. Bramston and Nicholson knelt
down on it, and remained for a while in prayer. Some time previous to
this, Mr. Bonar arrived on the ground in a post-chaise, and took his
stand within twelve yards of the fatal spot, with the front windows full
on the gallows, which he kept open during the whole time; but each of
the side windows was closed by blinds. So anxious was Mr. Bonar to get
from the unfortunate wretch his very dying words, as to whether he had
either motive or accomplice, that a person was deputed to ascend the
platform after the cord was round the prisoner's neck, and to ask him
questions upon the subject of the murder. The wretched being repeatedly
declared that he had no accomplice in the diabolical deed; and in
answer to the last question put to him,--"Had you any antipathy to
either your master or mistress before you committed the horrid
murder?"--clasping his hands together as well as his close bonds would
permit him, he answered, "As God is in heaven it was a momentary
thought, as I have repeatedly declared before."
The above were the last words of this unhappy man; and in a few minutes
after they were uttered, the bottom of the platform was let fall, and
Nicholson was launched into eternity. He died unusually hard, being
greatly convulsed. It appeared from the account he gave of himself, that
he was a native of Ireland, and had been discharged from the thirteenth
dragoons in consequence of a broken wrist. He subsequently lived three
years with the city remembrancer, and had been only three weeks in the
employ of his late master, Mr. Bonar. Among the servants at Camden Place
he was looked upon as a man of harmless disposition and good nature,
with no discernible failing but one, drunkenness, to which he was so
greatly addicted, that he was seldom sober when he could procure any
spirits.
The sensation which the murder produced throughout the country was
amazing.
MICHAEL M'ILVENA.
EXECUTED FOR UNLAWFULLY PERFORMING THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY.
This villain was a native of Ireland; and in his migrations through the
northern part of that kingdom, personated, successively, the characters
of a Catholic priest, a Protestant minister, and a lawyer. The last
place we find him in was the village of Ballinahinch, where he went
under the appellation of The Counsellor. While here he became acquainted
with a man of the name of Christopher Jennings, with whom he conspired
to debauch a young girl, named Mary Hair.
This unsuspecting creature was only seventeen years of age, and had been
a servant for a year and a half with a Mr. Knox of Drumanockan, near
Dromore, and having spent the Christmas of 1812 with her parents, she
was on her way back to her place, when she met her acquaintance Jennings
on the road. He conducted her to a public-house to treat her, and there,
as he had done before, made proposals of marriage to her. The poor girl
had before looked upon him with a favouring eye, and she took him at his
word, saying, that if he could find a priest, she would marry him at
once. They in consequence went together to Ballinahinch, and Jennings
took his bride into a public-house where M'Ilvena was sitting, and
introduced him to her as the minister, who was to marry them. A little
coyness was exhibited, and some mistrust was shown by the girl at her
being married in a public-house; but her scruples having been overcome,
the marriage was directed to be begun.
M'Ilvena, with assumed sanctity, pulled out his book, and went through
what Mary thought were the proper forms, joining their hands, and
interrogating the parties in the usual manner. After the ceremony, the
poor girl asked for a certificate. This was at first refused; but as she
insisted on it, the supposed parson took pen and ink, and wrote the
following:--
"These are to certify, that Mary Hair is this day joined in marriage to
Christopher Jennings, of Drumara. As given under my hand, this 26th
December, 1812.--W. M'I."
This scrawl contented the deluded girl; and the parson then intimated
that he was always paid for such duties. Mary gave him ten tenpennies;
but he threw them down with an indignant air, exclaiming, "Am I to be
college-bred and learned, and not receive my just dues?" But no more
money was forthcoming, and the parson was obliged to put up with what he
had got, contenting himself with wetting the bargain with a jug of
punch. The unfortunate girl was then conducted to the house of an old
woman named M'Kee, where her husband was admitted to all the marital
rights; and on the next morning she was bid by him to give notice of the
event to her master and mistress, and he undertook to break the business
to her father and mother. The poor girl was parting from him with
reluctance for this purpose, when he told her unblushingly that she was
not his wife, and that she was deceived.
The unhappy girl was immediately awakened to all the misery of her
situation; and she ran, in a state of distraction, to her parents, to
whom she related all that had occurred. The necessary proceedings were
immediately taken, and the _counsellor_ and Jennings were committed to
prison. At the summer assizes for Downpatrick, August the 17th, 1813,
they were brought up for trial. M'Ilvena was first indicted; and Mary
Hair having deposed to the foregoing facts, she was cross-examined, with
a view to affect her testimony, by endeavouring to make her acknowledge
a former connexion with Jennings; a fact, however, which she indignantly
denied.
M'Ilvena, in his defence, produced Jennings, who swore, first, that he
had an intimate knowledge of the prosecutrix long before the time
mentioned in the indictment; next, that she never represented herself as
his wife; and that M'Ilvena never pretended to join their hands
together, or otherwise unite them in marriage.
Jennings, having given his evidence, was ordered back into the dock from
whence he had come, and M'Ilvena was found guilty; after which he was
called on, in the usual form, to say why sentence of death should not be
passed on him. He appeared quite unmoved, and said he was not guilty of
the crime imputed to him. The judge then proceeded to pass sentence on
him; which he did in a very impressive manner, though frequently
interrupted by exclamations of innocence from the prisoner. The offence
being made by a particular act of parliament a capital felony, he was
sentenced to be hanged. He asked for a long day, which was humanely
granted, and his execution was deferred to the 18th of September, on
which day it took place, in the midst of a vast concourse of spectators.
The day after M'Ilvena's trial, Jennings was placed at the bar, on an
indictment for conspiring to debauch Mary Hair. He was almost instantly
found guilty; when the judge told him his crime was much enhanced by the
attempt he had made to screen his accomplice from punishment, in which
he had committed wilful and corrupt perjury. The sentence of the court
was, that he should stand for an hour on the pillory, be imprisoned for
one year, and pay a fine of fifty pounds.
JAMES MITCHELL.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The subject of this narrative was a native of Salisbury, and his first
occupation was that of a ploughboy in the service of a farmer near his
birthplace. Having afterwards removed to London, he obtained a situation
as groom in a gentleman's family; and while so employed he became
acquainted with Miss Welchman, whose life he subsequently took away.
Miss Welchman was a ladies' dressmaker, and lived as forewoman with Miss
Macey, who carried on that business in Mount Street. She was an elegant
young woman, about four-and-twenty years of age, and of a most amiable
disposition. To her, in an evil hour, Mitchell paid his addresses, under
the name of Smith, and represented himself as purser on board some ship.
The credulous girl believed him worthy and honourable, and permitted him
to visit her, at the house of her employer, where he was, for some time,
treated with politeness and friendship. At length his own conduct
betrayed the deception he had practised. He obtruded himself at improper
hours, and more than once offended the young ladies in the work-room by
the coarseness and indelicacy of his conversation. This coming to the
knowledge of Miss Welchman's brother, he prevailed, with some
difficulty, on his sister to forego the acquaintance of her lover.
In accordance with this advice, Miss Welchman had several interviews on
the subject with Mitchell; but notwithstanding her desire that he would
not again visit her, he persisted in annoying her. On Friday the 5th of
August, 1814, he called at Mount Street, and was ushered into the
work-room, where Miss Welchman was sitting. He continued there during
the whole evening, notwithstanding the repeated requests made to him
that he would leave; and, as it grew late, he desired Miss Welchman to
provide supper for him, and subsequently to lend him money. Both
requests were refused, and eventually at eleven o'clock Miss Macey and
her work-people went away to supper, Mitchell being now left alone. Miss
Welchman, however, returned to him, saying that she desired to be alone
with him for about five minutes; but she had scarcely entered the room
when a loud scream was heard, immediately followed by the report of
pistols. Her companions immediately rushed into the apartment, and found
Miss Welchman a lifeless corpse on the floor, a pair of pistols lying by
her side, which on inspection bore evident marks of being the
instruments with which the murder had been perpetrated. The hat of
Mitchell was also discovered; but the window was open, and it was found
that the assassin had escaped by descending into the street, by that
means.
On examination, it was found that Miss Welchman had been shot in the
head; one bullet had entered her temple, and the other had been resisted
by the substance of the forehead.
The murderer, in the mean time, had succeeded in making his escape, and
the officers of justice were despatched in pursuit of him, but without
effect; for, as he had been for a length of time out of place, a clue to
his last residence was not easily found. At length word was brought to
town that he was in custody at his native place, Salisbury, to which he
had bent his steps, and where he had been recognised by his old master
the farmer, who, having heard of the murder, immediately had him
scoured.
On the 13th of August he was brought up to Bow Street, in the custody of
Taunton the officer, where he underwent an examination, after which he
was fully committed to Newgate. He appeared very little affected at his
situation, and preserved a sullen silence.
On Friday, September the 16th, he was arraigned at the Old Bailey for
the murder of Miss Welchman. The evidence was circumstantial, but
conclusive; and, when called on for his defence, he denied the crime
with which he was charged, and said that it was not proved the pistols
and hat were his. He called no witnesses, and the jury having been
charged, retired for a few minutes, and returned with a verdict of
Guilty.
The Recorder, after silence had been proclaimed, pronounced the dreadful
sentence of the law, which was heard by the prisoner without the
slightest emotion.
He was executed on the 19th September with a man named Hollings, who had
been convicted of a similar offence in the murder of his step-daughter,
to whom he had formed an attachment, notwithstanding his having married
her mother; and whom he murdered in the street, at the door of her
master, Mr. Cartwright, in Lower Grosvenor Street, because she had
refused to accede to his disgusting and lustful propositions.
So great was the public curiosity to see the unfortunate malefactors,
that at seven o'clock on the morning of the execution, the Old Bailey
and Giltspur Street were crowded to a degree almost unprecedented. Much
money was given for indifferent seats at the top of the houses opposite
the Debtors' Door; and carts, waggons, and other vehicles were put in
requisition. At a quarter before eight the prisoners were introduced to
the Press-yard, for the purpose of having their irons knocked off,
accompanied by the Reverend Mr. Cotton and the Reverend Mr. Frere, the
latter of whom sat up in constant prayer all the night with Hollings,
who joined most fervently in the devotion. Mitchell, who was dressed in
black, was first brought out from the cell; he looked pale, and
maintained a deportment of sullen resignation; he did not say a word,
nor did he betray the slightest symptoms of feeling at his awful
situation. The irons being knocked off and the usual ceremony of tying
the hands being executed, he lifted his hand as far as he was permitted,
and looking up, bowed, and appeared to be in prayer. Hollings stepped
forward to the block with great activity. He was, however, very
tranquil; and upon being disencumbered of his irons, he addressed the
persons around him in nearly the following words: "Here, you see, I
stand a victim to passion and barbarity: my crime is great, and I
acknowledge the justice of my sentence. But, oh! the unfortunate girl I
loved, I adored as one of my own. I have made contrition, and prayed for
forgiveness; I resign myself under an impression that Almighty God has
heard my prayers, and will forgive me: may you and the world take
warning by my example; and here I confess the justice of my
fate--receive my soul, O God!" At the last expression his feelings
overcame him, and he wept.
The whole of the awful arrangements being complete, the prisoners were
ushered to the fatal scaffold. Mitchell was until this time firm and
unconcerned; but he now became much agitated, and the horrors of death
were strongly portrayed in his countenance. Hollings shook hands with
the officers of justice, declared to Mr. Frere that he was quite happy,
and mounted the scaffold with great firmness and resignation. The
clergymen continued to pray to them until the fatal signal was given,
when the drop fell. Mitchell continued in the strongest convulsions for
several minutes, and appeared to die very hard.
After they had hung some time, three females were introduced, for the
application of the "dead man's hand," supposed to remove marks, wens,
&c. The first was a young woman of interesting appearance, who was so
much affected by the ceremony that she was obliged to be supported.
At nine the bodies were cut down, and sent to St. Bartholomew's Hospital
for dissection.
MAJOR J. G. SEMPLE, _alias_ LISLE.
CONVICTED OF SWINDLING.
The case of this offender has obtained considerable notoriety, from the
circumstance of his conviction having been disputed, and from the
decision upon it having therefore became a precedent often quoted in our
courts of law.