The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “Those who have termed your royal highness savage have done you a great injustice,” she said.

  “I must bear the remarks of my enemies,” pursued the duke, “satisfied that I act for the best. Here is your protection,” he continued, giving Sir Conway the document he had just drawn up and signed. “You will receive your pardon hereafter.”

  “I thank your royal highness from the bottom of my heart,” said Sir Conway. “You will have no reason to regret your clemency.”

  “Serve the king as well as you have served his enemies, and I shall be content,” said the duke. “’Tis lucky for you that your estates will not be forfeited. But I hope your fair cousin may still continue mistress of Rawcliffe.”

  “I would never deprive her of the property,” said Sir Conway.

  “Nay, you must share it with her. And take heed, my dear young lady, if you are united to Sir Conway, as I hope you may be, that you do not shake his loyalty. You must forswear all your Jacobite principles.”

  “They are forsworn already,” she said.

  “May I venture to put in a word?” observed Dr. Byrom. “Such faith had I in your royal highness’s clemency, and in your known friendship for Colonel Conway, that I urged his nephew to take this step which has had so happy a result.”

  “You then are the author of the plot?” cried the duke.

  “Perhaps I was at the bottom of it all,” cried Beppy. “I don’t like to lose my share of the credit. I had the most perfect confidence in your royal highness’s good-nature.”

  “’Tis the first time I have been complimented on my good-nature,” observed the duke, smiling— “especially by a Jacobite, as I believe you are, Miss Byrom.”

  “After what has just occurred I could not possibly remain a Jacobite,” she said. “I shall trumpet forth your royal highness’s magnanimity to all.”

  “And so shall I,” said her father.

  “When next I see Sir Conway Rawcliffe,” said the duke, “I trust it will be at St. James’s Palace, and I also hope he will bring Lady Rawcliffe to town with him. Meantime, I advise him to retire to his country seat till this storm has blown over. It may possibly fall on some heads.”

  “I shall not fail to profit by your royal highness’s advice,” replied Sir Conway, bowing deeply.

  Profound obeisances were then made by all the party, and they were about to depart, when the duke said in a low tone to Constance:

  “I depend upon you to maintain your cousin in his present disposition. Go back to Rawcliffe Hall.”

  “Alas!” she rejoined, “I would obey your royal highness, but I cannot leave just now. My cousin, Miss Butler, is betrothed to Captain Dawson, of the Manchester Regiment. I must remain with her.”

  “Better not,” rejoined the duke, in an altered tone. “But as you will. ‘Twill be vain to plead to me again. I can do nothing more.”

  Colonel Conway here interposed, and, taking her hand, led her towards the door.

  “Say not a word more,” he whispered; “or you will undo all the good that has been done.”

  The party then quitted Cumberland House, and returned to the St. James’s Hotel.

  Needless to say, they all felt happy — the happiest of all being Sir Conway.

  The Duke of Cumberland’s injunctions were strictly obeyed. Next day, the family coach was on its way back, containing the whole party, with the exception of poor Monica, who would not return, but was left behind with Lettice.

  Three days afterwards the Duke of Cumberland, attended by Colonel Conway, proceeded to Scotland, where the decisive battle of Culloden was fought.

  CHAPTER IV.

  THE TRIAL OF THE MANCHESTER REBELS.

  An interval of some months being allowed to elapse, we come to a very melancholy period of our story.

  The unfortunate prisoners, who had languished during the whole time in Newgate, were ordered to prepare for their trial, which was intended to take place in the Court House at St. Margaret’s Hill, Southwark, before Lord Chief Justice Lee, Lord Chief Justice Willes, Justice Wright, Justice Dennison, Justice Foster, Baron Reynolds, Baron Clive, and other commissioners specially appointed for the purpose.

  Previously to the trial the prisoners were ordered to be removed to the new gaol at Southwark.

  ’Twas a sad blow both to Monica and her unfortunate lover. So much kindness and consideration had been shown to Jemmy during his long confinement in Newgate by all the officials, that he was quite grieved to leave the prison.

  Familiar with every little object in his cell, he was unwilling to exchange it for another prison-chamber. In this narrow room he and Monica had passed several hours of each day. Their converse had been chiefly of another world, for Jemmy had given up all hopes of a pardon, or an exchange, and they had prayed fervently together, or with the ordinary. Monica, as we know, was a Papist, but Jemmy still adhered to the Protestant faith. Before her departure from London, Constance had taken leave of him; but Sir Conway could not consistently visit the prison after the pardon he had received from the Duke of Cumberland. Dr. Byrom and his daughter had likewise visited him before they left town.

  About a week after Constance’s return to Rawcliffe Hall, Mrs. Butler died, and the sad tidings were communicated with as much care as possible to Monica. Prepared for the event, the poor girl bore it with pious resignation.

  “My mother was right,” she said. “She foresaw that we should never meet again.”

  At length the hour for departure came, and Jemmy was forced to quit his cell. As he stepped forth, his heart died within him.

  In the lodge he took leave of the gaoler who had attended him, and of the other officials, and they all expressed an earnest hope that he might be exchanged. All had been interested in the tender attachment between him and Monica, which had formed a little romance in the prison.

  The removal took place at night. Jemmy was permitted to take a hackney-coach, and, as a special favour, Monica was allowed to accompany him — a guard being placed on the box.

  To prevent any attempt at escape he was fettered, and this grieved him sorely, for he had not been placed in irons during his confinement in Newgate.

  On London Bridge, a stoppage occurred, during which the coaches were examined.

  On their arrival at the prison at Southwark, the lovers were separated. Immured in a fresh cell, Jemmy felt completely wretched, and Monica, more dead than alive, was driven back to Jermyn-street.

  Next day, however, she was allowed to see her lover, but only for a few minutes, and under greater restrictions than had been enforced in Newgate. Jemmy, however, had in some degree recovered his spirits, and strove to reassure her.

  Three days afterwards the trials commenced. They took place, as appointed, at the Court House, in St. Margaret’s Hill.

  Colonel Townley was first arraigned, and maintained an undaunted demeanour. When he appeared in the dock a murmur ran through the crowded court, which was immediately checked. The counsel for the king were the Attorney-General, Sir John Strange, the Solicitor-General, Sir Richard Lloyd, and the Honourable Mr. York — those for the prisoner were Mr. Serjeant Wynne and Mr. Clayton. The prisoner was charged with procuring arms, ammunition, and other instruments, and composing a regiment for the service of the Pretender to wage war against his most sacred majesty; with marching through and invading several parts of the kingdom, and unlawfully seizing his majesty’s treasure in many places for the service of his villainous cause, and taking away the horses and other goods of his majesty’s peaceful subjects. The prisoner was furthermore charged, in open defiance of his majesty’s undoubted right and title to the crown of these realms, with frequently causing the Pretender’s son to be proclaimed in a public and solemn manner as regent, and himself marching at the head of a pretended regiment, which he called the Manchester Regiment.

  To this indictment the prisoner pleaded not guilty.

  The chief witness against the prisoner was Ensign Maddox, an officer of the regiment, who had consented
to turn evidence for the Crown. Maddox declared that he had marched out with the prisoner as an ensign, but never had any commission, though he carried the colours; that the prisoner gave command as colonel of the Manchester Regiment; and that he ordered the regiment to be drawn up in the churchyard in Manchester, where the Pretender’s son reviewed them, and that he marched at the head of the regiment to Derby. That the prisoner marched as colonel of the Manchester Regiment in their retreat from Derby to Carlisle; that he was made by the Pretender’s son commandant of Carlisle, and that he took on him the command of the whole rebel forces left there; that he had heard the prisoner have some words with Colonel Hamilton, who was governor of the citadel, for surrendering the place, and not holding out to the last; and that he had particularly seen the prisoner encourage the rebel officers and soldiers to make sallies out on the king’s forces.

  After Maddox’s cross examination evidence was produced that Colonel Townley was many years in the French service under a commission from the French king; and since he was taken at Carlisle had been constantly supplied with money from France. Other witnesses were called to invalidate the evidence of Maddox by showing that he was unworthy of credit.

  But the court ruled that no man who is a liege subject of his majesty can justify taking up arms, and acting in the service of a prince who is actually at war with his majesty.

  After the prisoner’s evidence had been gone through, the Solicitor-General declared, “That he felt certain the jury would consider that the overt acts of high treason charged against the prisoner in compassing and imagining the death of the king, and in levying war against his majesty’s person and government, had been sufficiently proved.”

  While the jury withdrew to consider their verdict, Colonel Townley looked more indifferent than any other person in court. On their return, in about ten minutes, the clerk of arraigns said:

  “How say you, gentlemen, are you agreed on your verdict? Do you find Francis Townley guilty of the high treason whereof he stands indicted, or not guilty?”

  “Guilty,” replied the foreman.

  Sentence of death was then pronounced upon him by Lord Chief Justice Lee, and during that awful moment he did not betray the slightest discomposure.

  He was then delivered to the care of Mr. Jones, keeper of the county gaol of Surrey.

  Captain Dawson’s trial next took place. His youth and good looks excited general sympathy.

  The indictment was similar to that of Colonel Townley — the treason being alleged to be committed at the same time. The Attorney-General set forth that the prisoner, contrary to his allegiance, accepted a commission in the Manchester Regiment raised by Colonel Townley for the service of the Pretender, and acted as captain; that he marched to Derby in a hostile manner; that he retreated with the rebel army from Derby to Manchester, and thence to Clifton Moor, where in a skirmish he headed his men against the Duke of Cumberland’s troops; and that he had surrendered at the same time as Colonel Townley and the other officers.

  Evidence to the above effect was given by Maddox and other witnesses.

  No defence was made by the prisoner, and the jury, without going out of court, brought him in guilty.

  As their verdict was delivered, a convulsive sob was heard, and attention being directed to the spot whence the sound proceeded, it was found that a young lady had fainted. As she was carried out the prisoner’s eyes anxiously followed her, and it was soon known that she was his betrothed.

  The rest of the rebel officers were subsequently tried and found guilty, and sentence of death was passed upon them all.

  The order for the execution was couched in the following terms:

  “Let the several prisoners herein named return to the gaol of the county of Surrey whence they came. Thence they must be drawn to the place of execution, on Kennington Common, and when brought there must be hanged by the neck — but not till they are dead, for they must be cut down alive. Then their hearts must be taken out and burnt before their faces. Their heads must be severed from their bodies, and their bodies divided into quarters, and these must be at the king’s disposal.”

  CHAPTER V.

  THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXECUTIONS.

  On the night preceding the day appointed for carrying out the terrible sentence, poor Jemmy and his betrothed were allowed by Mr. Jones, the keeper of the prison, to pass an hour together.

  While clasping her lover’s fettered hands, Monica looked tenderly into his face, and said:

  “I shall not long survive you, Jemmy.”

  “Banish these thoughts,” he rejoined. “You are young, and I hope may have many years of happiness. Be constant to my memory, that is all I ask. If disembodied spirits can watch over the living I will watch over you.”

  With a sad smile he then added: “For a few minutes let us live in the past. Let me look back to the time when I first beheld you, and when your beauty made an impression on me that has never been effaced. Let me recall those happy hours when smiles only lighted up that lovely countenance, and no tear was ever shed. Oh! those were blissful days!”

  “Let me also recall the past, dearest Jemmy,” she cried. “How well do I recollect our first meeting! I thought I had seen no one like you, and I think so still. I could not be insensible to the devotion of a youth so gallant, and my heart was quickly yours. Alas! alas! I took advantage of your love to induce you to join this fatal expedition.”

  “Do not reproach yourself, dearest Monica. ’Twas my destiny. I am a true adherent of the Stuarts. Had I ten thousand lives I would give them all to King James and my country! I shall die with those sentiments on my lips.”

  As he spoke his pale cheek flushed, and his eye kindled with its former fire. She gazed at him with admiration.

  But after a few moments a change came over his countenance, and with a look of ill-concealed anguish, he said:

  “We must part to-night, dearest Monica. ’Tis better you should not come to me to-morrow.”

  “Nay, dearest Jemmy, I will attend you to the last.”

  “Impossible! it cannot be. My execution will be accompanied by barbarities worthy of savages, and not of civilised beings. You must not — shall not witness such a frightful spectacle.”

  “If the sight kills me I will be present.”

  “Since you are resolved, I will say no more. At least, you will see how firmly I can die.”

  Just then Mr. Jones came in to remind them that it was time to part, and with a tender embrace, Jemmy consigned her to his care.

  On learning that she meant to attend the execution, Mr. Jones endeavoured to dissuade her, but she continued unshaken in her purpose.

  CHAPTER VI.

  THE FATAL DAY.

  Next morning all those condemned to die breakfasted together in a large room on the ground floor of the prison. Their fetters had been previously removed.

  There was no bravado, no undue levity in their manner or discourse, but they looked surprisingly cheerful, in spite of the near approach of death under the most dreadful form.

  All had passed the greater part of the night in prayer. And as they hoped they had settled their account on high, there was nothing to disturb their serenity.

  “Our time draws very near,” observed Syddall to Captain Dawson, who sat next him. “But for my part I feel as hearty as ever I did in my life. Indeed, I think we all look remarkably well considering our position.”

  “Death does not terrify me in the least,” said Jemmy. “Its bitterness is past with me. May Heaven have mercy on us all!”

  “We die in a good cause,” observed Captain Deacon. “I heartily forgive all my enemies — even the chief of them, the Elector of Hanover and the Duke of Cumberland. It has been falsely said that I was induced by my revered father to take up arms for the prince. The assertion I shall contradict in the manifesto I have prepared. For the rest I care not what my enemies say of me.”

  “The Duke of Cumberland has not kept faith with us,” exclaimed Captain Fletcher. “When we surre
ndered at Carlisle, he declared that the garrison should not be put to the sword, but reserved for his father’s pleasure — the Elector’s pleasure being that we should be hung, drawn, and quartered. Gracious Heaven! deliver all Englishmen from this Hanoverian clemency!”

  “My sole regret is that we ever surrendered,” cried Colonel Townley. “Would we all had died sword in hand! However, since we are brought to this pass, we must meet our fate like brave men. As we have been allowed wine with our last repast, let us drink to King James the Third!”

  Every glass was raised in response, after which they all rose from the table.

  Several friends of the prisoners were now permitted to enter the room. Among them were Mr. Saunderson, Colonel Townley’s confessor, and Captain Deacon’s youngest brother, Charles.

  Charles Deacon had been reprieved; but, while embracing his brother for the last time, he expressed deep regret that he could not share his fate.

  Poor Monica was there — dressed in deep mourning. She and her lover were somewhat removed from the rest; but they were so engrossed by each other, that they seemed to be quite alone.

  Their parting attracted the attention of Tom Syddall, and moved him to tears — though he had shed none for his own misfortunes.

  “How did you pass the night, dearest Jemmy?” inquired Monica.

  “Chiefly in prayer,” he replied. “But towards morn I fell asleep, and dreamed that you and I were children, and playing together in the fields. It was a pleasant dream, and I was sorry when I awoke.”