“30, Duke Street, St. James's.
“I received your most welcome letter this morning, my ever dearest Eliza, Well does it deserve an immediate
“My dearest, dearest Eliza,—If I were not the very worst correspondent in the whole world, I should have wrote at least
“Depones, That the family resided at Smyllum Park in summer 1813, and her brother resided with them there at that time. Interrogated, Whether, in the month of June 1813, or in the course of the summer of that year, she recollects of overhearing any conversation betwixt the pursuer and defender, who were in a room adjoining one in which she, the deponent, accidentally was at the time? depones and answers, No; I never overheard any conversation between them whatever. Specially interrogated Whether, upon any occasion, she heard the pursuer, in addressing the defender, use words to the following effect, ‘Dearest, dearest Dick, you are my husband;’ and to which he replied, ‘You are now mine for ever, Betsy; and, as my wife, you must share whatever I have in the world?’ depones and answers, No; I never heard any thing in the kind. Interrogated, Whether she ever observed any particular intimacy betwixt the defender and the pursuer,—any intimacy more than was natural betwixt her brother and one who was in the situation of governess in her father's family? depones and answers, No, none whatever; no more than what took place betwixt her and any of my other brothers and cousins who were at that time in my father's family. Interrogated, Whether she is certain of never having, at any time, or upon any occasion, overheard any such conversation as the one above mentioned betwixt the pursuer and defender? depones and answers, No, upon no occasion; I am quite sure I never did. Interrogated, Whether, upon any occasion, she recollects of using any expression in speaking to the pursuer, such as calling her her sister? depones and answers, No, I never did upon any occasion. Interrogated, Whether, upon any occasion, she ever said to the pursuer, that she was sure she was her brother's wife; and that she, the deponent, would take great care of her children? depones and answers, No, I never did. Interrogated, Whether, upon any occasion,
“My darling Betsy,—I have received your letter very safely, and request you will give yourself no uneasiness about it. Careless as I confess myself to be about many things, I never had, and, moreover, most solemnly swear to you, my dearest love, that I never will have, cause to upbraid myself with inattention to any thing relating to your dear self. The assurances which you have given ought to satisfy me; but I long to hear them while locked in your arms, and pressed to that heart of hearts, the only one that mine will ever throb at approaching. You have every thing, my best beloved, for securing my affections; and the result will prove the truth of my assertion. You are every thing in the world to me. Without, I am bereft of every thing; and possessing you, I have nothing more to ask. Trust me, love, I know my own heart; and believe me, my beloved, these are its sentiments. I am writing in the midst of interruptions, and time presses. I rejoice you are to be with us on Wednesday next. The carriage will be in on Monday with William, and you can come out in it. How I long for you, my dearest love; how I long for Wednesday, and all its joys and pleasures. What a scrawl, Betsy; how unconnected the sentences; in short, what a production. It is a letter that requires a partial eye like yours to peruse. I have time for no revisions, but I trust there is need of none. The language of the heart, in however uncouth a form, should be the most acceptable. Farewell, thou joy of my life; dearest, dearest, dearest being, darling Betsy, your ever affectionate and unalterably attached,
“I know not what to say after our meeting today. It has made me very unhappy; but still I cannot upbraid myself with being culpable. I wish to think no more of it, for I cannot believe your behaviour proceeded from any diminution of affection, or from a change of those feelings which you have so frequently expressed for me. You must also forget the past, and impute my behaviour to surprise and regret at finding what I conceived to be coldness and…[ torn ]…where I so little exp
“My dearest, dearest Eliza,—I received your kind letter some days ago, and ten thousand thousand thanks to the dear writer of it. You have made me truly happy by the affectionate sentiments you avow to feel for me, my darling love. I pray heaven I may only merit a continuance of your love and regard. Never in this world can I be happy without you; and if I do but possess such a treasure, it shall be my sole study to promote your happiness by every means that is within my power. There are obs()les in the way; but these surmounted. Write me love and tell me what
“My dearest, dearest Eliza,—If you think I have forgotten you, my best beloved, by having allowed two days to elapse after their departure from Smyllum without writing, you will judge me very wrong. Friday would have been too soon to write, and Saturday morning I went into the country, from whence I have but within this hour returned. Now, that I am away from you, I know how much I love you. I have no happiness except
“My darling Eliza,—You, no doubt, think that I have been forgetful of you; I can assure you, however, that it is not so. I have been vexed and agonized since we parted, and have only one wish—to see you once again. I hear you intend remaining at Inverary until May. Should such be your intention, a long time must elapse before we meet. I will say no more until I hear from you, and entreat you to write me a single line, saying if there be any prospect of our soon meeting. R. B. J. Honyman .
“I can only say, my dearest Eliza, if you think I am not the same to you that ever I was, you judge me wrong. I have the same feelings of affection for you that ever I had; and although my long silence might have led some, under similar circumstances, to suppose that I had not acted up to what I professed, I never believed it possible that you could doubt the sincerity of my regard, unless explicitly avowed by myself. When can I see you? I intend going to Glasgow on Monday. Write me, addressed to the Black Bull, to be kept until called for. Tell me, my love, if we can meet, and where. I will come to Inverary. Indeed, my only motive for going to Glasgow is be nearer you, in the hope that you can make some arrangement for our meeting. I go to London soon, and anticipated the happiness of seeing all the schemes we had formed realized. Tuesday at farthest I shall be at Glasgow, and I could easily come on to Inverary or near it. Write, however, to Glasgow. I must see you. Write guardedly, affix no signature, and let the letter be unintelligible to any one but myself.
“Cairndow, Thursday.
“I have received the letter from Mound—— I should have answered it much sooner, but have been confined until today to the house. My feelings to the person I alluded to are the same as ever. I hope some day soon to be able to reimburse them for the expense they have been at. A small parcel by the coach on Monday will reach me without, I hope, exciting suspicion. I am impatient to hear, and should rejoice once more to see
“It will not be possible for me to be in Edinburgh tomorrow or Saturday. This I am sorry for; it will be some day of the week after the next.”
“I write this to say I will be in Edinburgh on Monday night. I will see you at half-past ten on that evening. Yours ever.”
“Rof dog ekas emoc ot nwot eht tnemom noy eviecer siht—fiuoy od ton, eht secneuqesnoc yam eb tsom elbaeergasid ot flesruoy—yreve gniht sah deripsnart htiw drager ot eht——, dna a nosrep si ot tiaw nopu uoy eht gninnigeb fo eht keew no rieht tnuocca. Siht yam eb detneverp yb ruoy gnimoc ot nwot. Tisi ytissecen taht sah edam em etirw, tub o od emoc.” *
“Is it possible that you do not mean either to write or come? I am in confinement, and tomorrow your——will be left without a home, without one who will bestow the common necessaries of life on——.I have had much to do to prevent my brother being with you this week. I could not, however, prevent him writing to you, which I am informed this morning he has done. O do not blame me. Could you look into my mind, and see what I suffer, I doubt not but you would alleviate my misery, at least if you possess the same goodness of heart you once did. O think of your chil——. Think what must be——fate. Think of what I must have suffered ere I was brought here. Do, for mercy's sake, come or write immediately. Address Mrs. Laing, Calton Hill Jail.
“For God's sake do try some means to assist me. My poor——this day without a home. What is to become of them? I think reason is on the point of forsaking me. O would to God that the grave would shelter me, and all that belongs to me ! I cannot write; I cannot think. O have mercy upon me, and try to lessen the miseries that surround me.
“Your children are starving, and almost naked, going about without a shoe on their poor feet. Is it possible you can know this, and not do something for them? The smallest supply would be thankfully received on their account; and unless it be quickly, God only knows what is to become of them. They are at present a burden on the meagre bounty of those who can ill afford a morsel for their own children, and who cannot be expected, were they ever so willing, to be able to do it any longer. Oh ! think but for a moment of their situation, and surely your heart cannot but pity, and your hand assist them. There is no matter how small the sum; little will supply their present wants. Do send them something by the coach of Monday, addressed to A. George, No. 5, Murray
“It is your fault; why do you not see the gentleman who has undertaken, on my part, to make arrangements for the children. Tell the woman in James' Square that you will meet him, and he will fix a time. This must be done immediately. I send five pounds for them, and shall not send any thing more until a settlement takes place.
“My dear Hamilton,—The accompanying letter abounds with lies from beginning to end—not one word of truth in it. I send it for your edification and perusal. Jemima says she can swear no such conversation was ever held, and she never said or thought that this Miss C. was my wife. I wish you would write me, and do something. Suppose I wished to be married tomorrow, what could I do? Here is a bitch of a woman who says what she cannot prove; but still it places me, with the anxious feelings I have, in a very uncomfortable situation. Would you have me come in?
“Interrogated, If she recollects of the pursuer living in a house in Mound Place? depones and answers, Yes, I do. I was at that time residing in Lancashire, and I came to visit my mother in Edinburgh, and visited the pursuer when living in Mrs. Cunningham's house in Mound Place. Interrogated, In what year that was? depones and answers, It would be three years previous to 1824, but I cannot recall it more particularly to my recollection, unless I was at home. Interrogated, If there were any children in family with the pursuer when she visited her in Mrs. Cunningham's house in Mound Place? depones and answers, Yes, there were two—two girls. Interrogated, If she the deponent made any inquiries at the pursuer about these children? depones and answers, No; I understood they were two children she had the charge of. Interrogated, When the deponent discovered that these two children were the pursuer's children? depones and answers, It was in 1824, when I came to attend my mother on her deathbed. Interrogated, Where the pursuer was living at that time? depones and answers, My first interview with her was in the jail on the Calton Hill. Interrogated, If the deponent made any inquiries at the pursuer respecting the two children when she saw her in the jail? depones, I did. During my attendance on my mother, I saw she was particularly distressed about a loan of money she had made, which was likely to be hurtful to my interest; and from what I learned, I took an opportunity, without my mother's knowledge, of going to the jail, and when there, and conversing with the pursuer, I thought myself entitled to ask her whose children the two were, my mother having to my knowledge advanced about£160 to her. The pursuer was particularly distressed, and said that she could not answer that question, and said that she was bound in such a manner not to do it, although she admitted I was well entitled to put the question. Although much distressed at seeing her in the situation she was in, I still insisted that she should give me some answer; but she said, if
“Sir,—I did not think any thing could have induced me to write to you again; but, alas! the wants of two poor little creatures compel me to it; far less did I think that the business now pending would have been so long of being decided I ask for nothing for myself. I merely ask for a small sum to supply their present great want. They have passed this day without food, and are likely to do the same tomorrow. The only means I have now in my power to avert starvation is to beg from door to door for them; and the most likely consequence is, that I shall be sent to the police, where I must give an account of what has reduced myself and them to such want. I cannot possibly think you would like to have your neglect of them made so public. I would not have made this application, but I have wearied out the few friends I have, begging for them. I lay myself out of the question; for I have worked more in the last few months than would have been sufficient to keep me comfortable. How can you be so unfeeling to them, however much you may wish to punish me? Surely they are innocent. My mind is often in a state of madness. I wander the street without knowing whither I am going. And, O! what dreadful thoughts often possess it. When I look from my window, and see the broad sea before me, I think how soon might all our miseries be at an end. But, O! blessed be God, my soul has yet been kept from the dreadful crime of murder. May his power preserve my soul from such a crime. I now humble myself to beg from you for them; and if you do not send something by Monday's coach, do not blame me for what may be the consequence, for I am nearly distracted. You may address your parcel, as you did the last, to A. George, Murray Street, Crosscauseway. It must be carriage-paid, for I have nothing.”
“My dear Hamilton,—I intend mentioning the whole affair to my father. No arrangement shall I come to until the claims which Miss Campbell asserts she possesses are substantiated in a court of justice, or given up. I cannot charge
“The defender having returned from London to Edinburgh in the course of the same year, 1813, he, upon his arrival, and at his first meeting with the pursuer, expressed the most unbounded affection, and repeatedly declared his determination that they should not again part. He resided from the month of April to the end of June 1815 at his father's house, Queen street, Edinburgh, or at Smyllum Park. During this time the defender's courtship and solicitations to the pursuer were incessant. He took every opportunity of being with her in her own room, and of walking out with her whenever he had an opportunity.”
“It is admitted that, after the respondent's return from London, his intimacy with the pursuer continued. That intimacy was solicited by herself, and was unavoidable, considering the situation in which he was placed. It is admitted that the defender was frequently with her in walking out as well as in her own room.”
“You will probably have conceived, by the time which I have suffered to elapse since the permission which you so kindly granted me, that I did not intend availing myself of it; but so bewildered and agonized have I been since our separation, that I have been unable to give utterance to my feelings, or form one rational sentiment, even to her who is the tenderest object of my regards.”
“Tell me, my Betsy, if you think there is any likelihood of the event which you and I talked about taking place. If so,”—What? “Go into concealment and hide your shame” would have been the words of a man to his paramour. “I shall give you all the money I can; but go and conceal it from all the world.”
“The truth is, that neither Mrs. Wilson nor Mr. Hamilton were examined, because the pursuer very well knew that they could give no evidence in support of the averments which she ventured to make,” &c. But there is one point of the case as to which, if she was admissible at all, she was very important. It was asserted by the defender, that the pursuer had told Mrs. Wilson, in the presence of the defender's agent, that she had been married to the defender by a clergyman whom she could at any time bring forward. If that had been true, it would have been very much against the pursuer. But Mrs. Wilson's evidence, if we are to take it into view at all, clears that up distinctly, and removes all impression from my mind against the pursuer on this subject. My Lords, I have noticed these difficulties under which the pursuer lay in bringing forward the proof; but, with all these difficulties, we must now say whether, laying aside equivocal expressions, there are leading features in this case on which we may safely rely in resting our judgment. Now, before looking to the letters at all, it appears to me, as it did to your Lordship, right to attend to some of the statements made by the defender in the condescendence. Your Lordships will observe that, when the defender came home from the East Indies, about September 1811, the pursuer states that she was in the family of his father at Smyllum. Then, in answer to article 3d of the condescendence, he says, in answer to the statement that the defender had paid particular attention to the pursuer, “This is denied. On the contrary, the respondent was, immediately on his return home, courted by the allurements and advances of the pursuer, which, considering his age, then only 24, it was impossible for him altogether to repel.”