Chapter XIV: Jemmy Dawson's Letter

The unexpected arrival of Dr. Byrom and Beppy at Rawcliffe Hall caused considerable perturbation to Constance and her cousin; but this was relieved as soon as the doctor explained that he brought good news of Atherton.

Before entering into any particulars, however, he delivered Jemmy Dawson's letter to Monica, telling her in what manner he had received it. Murmuring a few grateful words, she withdrew to her own room, and we shall follow her thither, leaving the others to talk over matters with which the reader is already acquainted.

The letter filled several sheets of paper, and had evidently been written at intervals.

Thus it ran.

St. Albans.

For a short time I have been free, and fondly persuaded myself I
should soon behold you again. Alas! no such bliss was reserved for
me. My fate is ever perverse. I had not long regained my liberty,
when I was captured and taken back, and I am now so strictly
watched that I shall have no second chance of escape.

Enraged at my attempt at flight, the officer in command of the
guard threatened to fetter me, like a common felon, but as yet I
have been spared that indignity.

You will easily imagine the state of grief and despair into which
I was plunged by my ill success. I had buoyed myself up with false
hopes. I felt quite sure that in a few days I should again clasp
you to my heart. Deprived by a cruel fate of such unspeakable
happiness, can you wonder at my distraction? While thus frenzied,
had I possessed a weapon, I should certainly have put an end to my
wretched existence. But I am somewhat calmer now, though still
deeply depressed.

Oh! dearest Monica--the one being whom I love best!--I cannot
longer endure this enforced separation from you. Never till now
did I know how necessary you are to my existence. Pity me! pity
me! I am sore afflicted.

Your presence would restore the serenity of mind I once enjoyed,
and which I have now utterly lost. Come to me, and shed a gleam of
happiness over the residue of my life. In a few days I shall be
lodged in a prison, but I shall not heed my confinement if you
will visit me daily.

Should the worst fate befall me--as I have sad presentiments that
it will--I shall be prepared to meet it, if you are with me at the
last. Without you to strengthen me, my courage may fail. I need
you, dearest Monica--need you more than ever. Come to me, I
implore you!

I am ashamed of what I have written, but you will not despise me
for my weakness. 'Tis not imprisonment I dread, but the torture of
prolonged separation from you. Did I not love you so passionately
I should be as careless as my companions in misfortune. They have
little sympathy for me, for they cannot understand my grief. They
would laugh at me if I told them I was ever thinking of you. Most
of them live jovially enough, and appear entirely unconcerned as
to the future. Whether they are really as indifferent as they
seem, I much doubt. But they drink hard to drown care. The two
Deacons, however, keep aloof from the rest. Colonel Townley, also,
is greatly changed. He does not look downcast, but he has become
exceedingly serious, and passes his time in long discourses with
Father Saunderson, his priest and confessor, who is allowed to
attend him. He often talks to me of you and Constance, and hopes
that Atherton has been able to embark for France. We have heard
nothing of the latter, of course; and in his case no news is good
news.

The inhabitants of the different towns and villages through which
we have passed on our way to the metropolis have displayed great
animosity towards us, chiefly owing to the mischievous placards
which have been everywhere spread about by the Government. In
these placards the most monstrous charges are brought against us.
It is gravely asserted that if we had defeated the Duke of
Cumberland we meant to spit him alive and roast him. The bishops
were to be burnt at the stake like Ridley and Latimer, and all the
Protestant clergy massacred. That such absurd statements should
have obtained credence seems impossible; but it is certain they
have produced the effect designed, and that the minds of the
common folk have been violently inflamed, as we have learnt to our
cost, and as we may experience to a still greater extent when we
reach London.

Newgate.

You will tremble, dearest Monica, when you learn that I am now
immured in that dismal dungeon, the very name of which inspires
terror; and yet the prison is not so formidable as it has been
represented.

I have a small cell on the master's side, as it is termed, and
though the walls are of stone, the little window grated, and the
door barred, I have no right to complain. I am far from harshly
treated--indeed, every comfort I choose to pay for is allowed me.
Nor am I locked up in my cell, except at night.

A great stone hall is our place of resort during the day. There my
brother officers assemble, and there we are served--not with
prison fare, as you may imagine--but with as good provisions and
as good wine as we could obtain at a tavern. For breakfast we have
tea, coffee, or chocolate, according to choice--roast beef or
mutton for dinner--claret or canary to wash it down--and some of
my companions regale themselves after supper with a bowl of punch.
Smoking, also, is allowed, and indeed several of the prisoners
have pipes in their mouths all day long. From the stone hall a
passage communicates with a tap-room, where different beverages
are sold. Here the common malefactors repair, but happily they are
prevented from coming further. From what I have just stated you
will infer that we are not in that part of the gaol appropriated
to felons--though we are stigmatised as the worst of criminals;
but with a certain leniency, for which we ought to feel grateful,
we have been placed among the debtors.

Colonel Townley, Captain Moss, and Captain Holker, have each a
commodious room. Tom Deacon and his brother Charles have the next
cell to mine--but poor Adjutant Syddall is lodged in an infamous
hole, owing to lack of money. All the officials, high and low,
within the prison, seem anxious to lessen the rigour of our
confinement as much as they can--especially, since most of us are
able to live like gentlemen, and fee them handsomely.

For a prison, Newgate is comfortable enough, and, as far as my own
experience goes, its ill reputation seems undeserved. No doubt the
wards devoted to common felons are horrible, and I should die if I
were shut up with the dreadful miscreants of whom I have caught a
glimpse--but fortunately they are kept completely apart from us.
We can hear their voices, and that is enough.

That I am melancholy in my prison does not proceed from any
hardship I have to undergo--or from solitude, for I have too much
society--but I pine and languish because I am separated from her I
love.

Think not, if you come, in response to my entreaties, that you
will be prevented from visiting me. You will be admitted without
difficulty, and no prying eye will disturb us.

And now, since I have spoken of the good treatment we have
experienced in prison, I must describe the indignities to which we
were subjected on our way hither.

I have already mentioned that every effort has been made by the
Government to inflame the minds of the populace against us. On our
arrival at Islington, we learnt to our dismay that tumultuous
crowds were collected in the streets through which we should have
to pass; and to afford them a gratifying spectacle, it was
arranged that we should be led to prison in mock triumph.

Accordingly, the waggons in which we were placed were uncovered,
so that we had no protection from the numerous missiles hurled at
us as we were borne slowly along through the howling multitude,
and I verily believe we should have been torn in pieces if the mob
could have got at us. Rebels and traitors were the mildest terms
applied to us.

On the foremost waggon the rent and discoloured standard of our
regiment was displayed, and a wretched creature, dressed up for
the occasion as a bagpiper, sat behind the horses, playing a
coronach. But he was soon silenced, for a well-aimed brickbat
knocked him from his seat.

But though the crowd hooted us, pelted us, and shook their sticks
at us, we met with some compassion from the female spectators.
Many ladies were stationed at the windows, and their looks
betokened pity and sympathy.

Our progress through the streets was slow, owing to the vast
crowd, and frequent hindrances occurred, but at the entrance to
Newgate Street we were brought to a complete standstill, and had
to endure all the terrible ribaldry of the mob, mingled with yells
and groans, and followed up by showers of missiles, such as are
hurled at poor wretches in the pillory, till the thoroughfare
could be cleared.

At this juncture, a chance of escape was offered to Colonel
Townley. Half a dozen sturdy fellows, who looked like professional
pugilists, forced their way to the waggon, and one of the stoutest
of the party called to him to jump out and trust to them. The
colonel thanked them, but refused, and they were immediately
afterwards thrust back by the guard.

Had the chance been mine I would have availed myself of it
unhesitatingly. But Colonel Townley feels certain of obtaining the
cartel, and would therefore run no risk.

Another tremendous scene occurred at the gates of the prison, and
we were glad to find refuge in its walls. Here, at least, we were
free from the insults of the rabble, and though we were all in a
sorry plight, none of us, except poor Tom Syddall, had sustained
any personal injury. Nor was he much hurt.

Our deplorable condition seemed to recommend us to the governor,
and he showed us much kindness. Through his attention we were soon
enabled to put on fresh habiliments, and make a decent appearance.

Thus I have discovered, as you see, that there may be worse places
than Newgate. My confinement may be irksome, but I could bear it
were I certain as to the future; but I am not so sanguine as my
companions, and dare not indulge hopes that may never be realised.

Not a single person has visited me till to-day, when a Manchester
gentleman, with whom I am acquainted, has come to see me in
prison--and he offers to take charge of a letter, and will cause
it to be safely delivered to you. He is a friend of Dr. Byrom. A
private hand is better than the post, for they tell me all our
letters are opened and read, and in some cases not even forwarded.

I therefore add these few hasty lines to what I have already
written. I am less wretched than I have been, but am still greatly
dejected, and by no mental effort can I conquer the melancholy
that oppresses me.

Come to me, then, dearest Monica! By all the love you bear me, I
implore you come!

* * * * *

"I see how wretched thou art without me, dearest Jemmy," exclaimed Monica, as she finished the letter; "and I should be the cruellest of my sex if I did not instantly obey thy summons. Comfort thee, my beloved! comfort thee! I fly to thee at once!"