The Manchester Rebels of the Fatal '45

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  "He has been removed from a world of misery," said Dr. Byrom."Reflection, I am sure, will reconcile you to his fate, sad as it nowmay seem."

  "I have misjudged myself," said Dr. Deacon. "When I sent forth mythree sons on this expedition, I thought I was prepared for anyeventuality, but I now find I was wrong. One I have already lost--theother two will follow quickly."

  CHAPTER XIII.

  A JOURNEY TO LONDON PROPOSED.

  "You will be much grieved to hear that poor Robert Deacon is dead,"observed Beppy, when she was left alone with Atherton. "Papa had justreceived the sad intelligence before we left Manchester, and he is nowabout to communicate it to the doctor. I pity Dr. Deacon from myheart, for I fear the loss of his sons will kill him. But I have othernews for you, which papa has not had time to relate. Jemmy Dawson hasmade an attempt to escape; but has failed. At Dunstable he contrivedto elude the guard, and got out upon the downs, but his flight beingdiscovered, he was pursued and captured. He is now lodged in Newgate.Papa has just received a letter from him. It was confided to aManchester friend who visited him in prison. The same gentlemanbrought another letter for Monica, which papa undertook to send to herprivately--for the post is no longer safe--all suspected letters beingopened and examined. Poor Jemmy seems very despondent. Papa is goingto London shortly, and no doubt will see him."

  "If Dr. Byrom goes to London, would he take charge of Monica andConstance, think you?" cried Atherton.

  "I am sure he would," she replied. "But here he comes," she continued,as Dr. Byrom entered the room. "I will put the question to him. Papa,"she went on, "I have been talking matters over to Captain Legh, andhave mentioned to him that you are likely to go to London before long.Should you do so, he hopes you will take charge of Monica and MissRawcliffe."

  "They will require an escort," added Atherton; "and there is no onewhom they would prefer to you--especially under presentcircumstances."

  Thus appealed to, Dr. Byrom very readily assented, and inquired whenthe young ladies would be disposed to undertake the journey.

  "No arrangement has been made as yet," said Atherton; "but I am surewhen Monica receives the letter from Jemmy Dawson, which I understandyou are about to forward to her, she will be all anxiety to be nearhim; and I am equally sure that Constance will desire to accompanyher."

  "I will ascertain their wishes without delay," said Dr. Byrom. "Beforereturning to Manchester, I will ride over to Rawcliffe Hall, anddeliver poor Jemmy's letter in person. I shall then hear what MissButler says. My visit will answer a double purpose, for I shall beable to give them some intelligence of you, and convey any message youmay desire to send them."

  "I cannot thank you sufficiently for your kindness, sir," saidAtherton. "Pray tell Constance that I shall make my way to London insuch manner as may best consist with safety, and I hope she will feelno uneasiness on my account. I sincerely trust she will go to London,as in that case I shall see her again before I embark for Flanders."

  "I will deliver your message," replied Dr. Byrom, "and I hope we shallall meet in London. Immediately on my arrival there I shall endeavourto procure a pardon for you. Do not raise your expectations too high,for I may not be able to accomplish my purpose. But you may rely uponit I will do my best."

  Atherton could scarcely find words to express his thanks.

  "Say no more," cried the doctor, grasping his hand warmly. "I shall beamply rewarded if I am successful."

  "You have not said anything about it, papa," interposed Beppy. "But Ihope you mean to take me with you to London. I must form one of theparty."

  "You would only be in the way," observed the doctor.

  "Nothing of the sort. I should be of the greatest use, as you willfind. You are the best and most good-natured papa in the world, andnever refuse your daughter anything," she added, in a coaxing tone,which the doctor could not resist.

  "I ought not to consent, but I suppose I must," he said.

  "Yes, yes--it's quite settled," cried Beppy, with a glance ofsatisfaction at Atherton.

  "Where are we to meet in London?" inquired the young man. "Possibly Imay not see you again till I arrive there."

  "You will hear of me at the St. James's Hotel, in Jermyn Street,"replied the doctor. "And now I think we ought to start," he added tohis daughter, "since we have to go to Rawcliffe Hall."

  "But you have not taken leave of Dr. Deacon," cried Beppy.

  "I shall not interrupt the prayers he is offering up for his son,"replied her father. "Bid him adieu for us," he added to Atherton. "Andnow farewell, my dear young friend! Heaven guard you from all perils!May we meet again safely in London!"

  Atherton attended his friends to the garden gate, but went no further.He watched them till they disappeared, and then returned sadly to thecottage.

  CHAPTER XIV.

  JEMMY DAWSON'S LETTER.

  The unexpected arrival of Dr. Byrom and Beppy at Rawcliffe Hall causedconsiderable perturbation to Constance and her cousin; but this wasrelieved as soon as the doctor explained that he brought good news ofAtherton.

  Before entering into any particulars, however, he delivered JemmyDawson's letter to Monica, telling her in what manner he had receivedit. Murmuring a few grateful words, she withdrew to her own room, andwe shall follow her thither, leaving the others to talk over matterswith which the reader is already acquainted.

  The letter filled several sheets of paper, and had evidently beenwritten 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," exclaimedMonica, as she finished the letter; "and I should be the cruellest ofmy sex if I did not instantly obey thy summons. Comfort thee, mybeloved! comfort thee! I fly to thee at once!"

  CHAPTER XV.

  THE PARTING BETWEEN MONICA AND HER MOTHER.

  By this time, Dr. Byrom had not only delivered Atherton's message toConstance, but explained his own intentions, and she had at oncedecided upon accompanying him to London.

>   When Monica, therefore, appeared and announced her design, she learntthat her wishes had been anticipated. After some little discussion itwas settled--at Monica's urgent entreaty--that they should start onthe following day. Constance and Monica were to post in the familycoach to Macclesfield, where they would be joined by Dr. Byrom and hisdaughter; and from this point they were all to travel to town togetherin the same roomy conveyance. The plan gave general satisfaction, andwas particularly agreeable to Beppy.

  All being settled, the party repaired to the dining-room, whereluncheon had been set out for the visitors. Scarcely had they satdown, when Father Jerome made his appearance, and though the ordinarycourtesies were exchanged between him and Dr. Byrom, it was evidentthere was mutual distrust.

  As they rose from table, the doctor took Constance aside, and said toher in a low tone:

  "What do you mean to do in regard to Father Jerome? Will you leave himhere?"

  "I must," she replied. "He is necessary to my Aunt Butler. During myabsence I shall commit the entire control of the house to my father'sfaithful old servant, Markland, on whom I can entirely rely."

  "You could not do better," remarked Dr. Byrom, approvingly. And headded, with a certain significance, "I was about to give you acaution, but I find it is not needed."

  Shortly afterwards the doctor and Beppy took their departure, andproceeded to Manchester.

  Constance and Monica spent the rest of the day in making preparationsfor the journey. As may be supposed, Constance had many directions togive to old Markland, who seemed much gratified by the trust reposedin him, and promised the utmost attention to his young mistress'sinjunctions.