Custom Sealed Envelope

The custom sealed envelope didn’t slip from the pages of the old 19th century book in a classic and dramatic cinematic style; it was simply discovered by the turning of the page. Why the envelope was in the book in the first place would puzzle people endlessly. One of those unresolved mysteries that would baffle the experts of calligraphy, and all things found in extraordinary circumstances, in unexplained places.

The custom wax seal held a circular crest with the small logo of a 15th or 16th century three mastered sailing ship, with the initials P.R.

When the envelope was carefully opened by experts, the contents, the letter itself was addressed to Fleet debtors court in London. It contained a letter of financial guarantee from Elanor Prowse Robertson to release John Dixon from his financial liabilities and his debtors.

Unfortunately, it was two centuries too late to save John Dixon from debtor’s prison in 1838.

The library echoed not just with the sound of hushed voices, its books echoed words through the endless annals of space and time. Unruly, troublesome spirits, vagrant page turners over the centuries haunted the rows of reading tables and endless bookshelves. The uniformed rows of long reading tables and accompanying cushioned chairs played homage to the studying spectres of time. Not only the table and chairs, the tall ceiling and equally erect tall sentinel columns saluted and bore testament to the vision, the ideologies and teachings of its founder, the philanthropist and writer Thomas Carlyle.

It was the ghost of Thomas Carlyle and his first edition of The French Revolution: A History, a treasured publication from the London Library dated 1837, which revealed the hidden letter when it was opened. Not only did it reveal the typeset pages of Carlyle’s famous works, but it also coughed up an unexpected item, a custom sealed envelope that had been buried in the pages of the old book for years.

When a modern-day research historian named Toby Tufnell requested a selected view of the precious artifact from the famous scribe, the senior librarian required a special scheduling of the book reading, in the reading section of the old London library. Special editions such as this old book were stored on special shelves, in an environment to protect the old bindings and pages from the corrosive atmosphere caused partly by the air-conditioned apparatus of the building.

The sealed envelope appeared hidden within the pages, like an unintended bookmark. It was addressed to John Dixon Esq. When the envelope was eventually opened under controlled conditions, it revealed a surprising secret from the long ago past. The writing on the envelope and the contents of the enclosed letter was in the same handwriting. The handwriting of a woman named Elanor Prowse Robertson, who was part of wealthy family having made investments in the new railways, and new oceanic steamships. For years the Prowse Robertson family owned a fleet of sailing ships, which facilitated and profited from seabound trading around the known world of those long-ago centuries.

The letter was intended for the Debtor’s court. It read:

The Debtors’ Court

Fleet

London

18th of July 1838

Dear Sirs,

I would like to inform the learned gentlemen of the court that I stand as a guarantor for John Andrew Dixon.

Please release him from all his debts henceforth, as I hold a bond for 100 one hundred guineas to pay his debts immediately.

Yours faithfully

Elanor Prowse Robertson

Pall Mall

London

*******

The gavel slammed into the wooden block for the umpteenth time that day. The baying watching audience in the courtroom, a room full of Shylocks. Just like the famous character in the Merchant of Venice, these Shylocks also wanted their pound of flesh, their debts paid today, or in the confines of the debtor’s prison. The onlooking crowd roared each time the judge slammed down his gavel, as another victim of debt was sent into the horrors of Fleet Prison in London.

John Andrew Dixon was led in front of the judge by the officials of the debtor’s court.

The crowd jeered at the appearance of another person accused of owning money, in debt. Yet another case brought before the judge and debtors court that day.

“Silence” The booming voice of the bewigged judge as his gavel again slammed into the wooden block to gain order to the hearing.

“Are you John Andrew Dixon, born of the 17th of January 1805?” Asked the Judge of the man standing before him that day.

“Do you agree you owe Philip John Firkin money for goods you purchased from his premises?” Continued the judge.

“Yes, your honour, sir.” Admitted the accused John Dixon.

“How much money does the accused owe you. Mr. Firkin?” The judge turned towards a rotund man perspiring heavily from the hot stuffy room, his face was crimson red, he looked like a steaming kettle on a hot stove, exploring with spluttering and evaporating water. Philip John Firkin had a small bakery along Pall Mall, and it would seem from his plump size that he enjoyed his own confectionery a little too much.

“He owes my forty pounds and ten shillings your honour, sire.” Replied Philip Firkin, the baker.

“A debt which has been outstanding for three months or more, your honour.” Added the baker, the words spluttered out, as though the words themselves left a bad taste in the baker’s mouth.

“Do you agree with the amount, Mr. Dixon?” The judge turned to the accused.

“Yes, It’s correct.” John Dixon said ashamedly with his head bowed.

“Do you have any assets to repay your debts Mr. Dixon.” The judge enquired. Before John Dixon could reply.

“Where do you work, your employment?” The judge asked.

“I’m a wages clerk, working at the Prowse Robertson Shipping Company.” Replied John Dixon

“How much do you earn a week?” Asked the judge.

“Eight pounds 10 shillings on a good week.” John Dixon answered.

“Do you have any other assets, or a benefactor to come to your financial aid today!” The judge asked sternly.

“Yes, I do!” John Dixon said enthusiastically.

“I did have a verbal guarantee from my employers, the owners, Mrs. Elanor Prowse Robertson.” John Dixon’s voice and demeanour brightened with every word.

“So, where is this benefactor, or a letter from your benefactor?” Enquired the peering judge.

“She promised to write a letter to the court, before she left, your honour.” John Dixon said in pleading manner.

“Did we receive this letter?” The judge turned to the clerks of the court for an answer. The clerk shook his head in a negative response.

“We didn’t receive a letter from your benefactor, Mr. Dixon, and they do not appear to be in court today either, so we only have your word for this supposed letter from your benefactor.”

“Do you know the whereabouts of the letter or your benefactor, Mrs. Elanor Prowse Robertson, Mr. Dixon.” The judge said dismissively.

“No! She promised your honour. Before she left for the Americas.” John Dixon bowed his head; he knew that he wasn’t going to get any leniency from the judge.

“I don’t see any evidence today, that your benefactor is coming to your rescue, and Mr. Firkin has been more than charitable all these months not to press for repayment of your large debt. It leaves me no other course of action but to send you to debtor’s court until Mr. Firkin is repaid in full. It is a truth of life; pay your debts and taxes, and you won’t see the inside of a prison, Mr. Dixon.”

With those words the judge raised his arm and slammed the gavel down on the wooden pad.

“Officers of the court send him to Fleet Prison, until he repays his debt is full.”

The crowd cheered in unison, and John Dixon was led away to imprisonment at Fleet debtor’s prison.

Life inside a debtors' prison in the early 19th century was marked by harsh conditions and overcrowding. Inmates were often subjected to squalid living conditions, inadequate provisions, and poor sanitation. Families were separated, and inmates were stripped of their personal belongings upon arrival. The purpose of these prisons was to act as a deterrent against debtors and to force them to repay their debts. However, this system often perpetuated a cycle of poverty, as prisoners were unable to work or generate income while incarcerated.

In England, the Debtors Act of 1869, which ended the practice of indefinite imprisonment for non-payment of debt, marked a significant change in the treatment of debtors. It abolished the use of debtors' prisons in England and provided alternative methods of debt collection, such as wage garnishment or installment payment plans. By the end of the 19th century, debtors' prisons had largely disappeared, giving way to more compassionate approaches to debt resolution.

Unfortunately, it was too late for poor John Dixon, who never left Fleet Debtor’s prison, as he tragically died two months later of tuberculosis.

******

The maritime weather forecast for the crossing was fair, no high winds or heavy seas to prevent a smooth sailing or steaming with the maiden voyage of the brand-new steamship SS Elanor of the Prowse-Robertson line. Making the Atlantic Ocean crossing from Bristol to New York in less than eight days, as the captain was eager to make the maiden voyage a record breaking one. Cutting the time for the Atlantic crossing compared to the unreliable wind powered sailing ships by two weeks. The rigging from the four masts creaked and moaned in tune to the brisk wind, but the overriding sound and vibration was that of the two steam engines with a combined horsepower of 750, and the huge paddles as they churned up the vast amounts of seawater and turned the agitated seawater into a maelstrom of chaos.

The continuous vibration of the steam engines below deck and the huge funnel exhaust for the venting of excessive steam, contrasted with the traditional rope rigging, the horizontal spreaders with their descending vertical spars on the mast. Both the old and new propelled the first ever steamship forward, and in the early days of this new technology both supported the smooth passage through all types of seas, whether calm or heavy.

The launch of Brunel’s brainchild was not without incident and nearly cost the famous inventor his life. Nonetheless with all the dramas now in the past, and with the fitting of the two powerful steam engines in London, the subsequent steamship’s return to Avon mouth, Bristol to collect it’s first passengers for the maiden voyage to New York. Now the steamship was under full steam, about 80 miles west of the coast of Ireland, sailing with a speed of 9 knots (10 mph) towards the east coast of North America. In the event of high winds and heavy seas the sails would be deployed to aid forward propulsion. Supporting the stability of those huge iron propellor blades and the equally huge paddle wheels, vivaciously scooping up vast amounts of seawater.

The first-class passenger deck was one level above the ship’s main deck, with around 120 cabins, designed like the rooms of elegant townhouse, The large cabins accommodated the attending servants, such as the butler, valet, and ladies’ maid.

As owner of the Prowse Robertson Shipping Company, and with the famous SS Elanor steamship duly named after its most predominate patron, Elanor Prowse Robertson, was occupying the royal suite on the steamship’s maiden voyage to New York. It made for widespread publicity, and it was a brave show of trust and confidence with this novel invention of steamship sailing on the vast oceans of the 19th century world.

Mrs. Elanor Prowse Robertson was traveling with her niece Sarah, who had just finished her higher education at finishing school in Geneva. They were both sitting in deck loungers outside the royal suite cabin enjoying the blue skies and fresh air of the Atlantic Ocean.

“Did you hear that poor man died in the shipyard on the launch of my puffing kettle, that’s what I have nicknamed this huge monster. It vibrates all the time, but out here, it is only the steam from the funnel that is strange compared to the old wooden ships. Did you sleep well my darling?” Mrs. Prowse Robertson asked her niece, sitting beside her on the balcony of the royal suite.

“And poor Kingy (referring to Isambard Kingdom Brunel the great inventor), nearly killed himself from his fall, and then the engine caught fire. Let’s hope all this bad luck is over, they say it always comes in threes.” Mrs. Prowse Robertson reflected.

“We pray for fine sailing from now onwards. Mamer.” Sarah proposed and lifted her champagne glass to toast with her wealthy Aunt.

“I wanted to talk to you Sarah about something. A proposition. Now that you have finished with Switzerland and your education, I wondered if you would consider organizing a library. A public library, where people off the streets can come to read books, or even loan books. I know you always had a social conscious for the less privileged amongst us.” Stated Mrs. Prowse Roberston.

“Tell me more Mamer!” Sarah said.

“Well, you know that Thomas Carlyle, the Scottish writer. Very passionate, with some Jacobite leanings. At least he has his heart in the right place. He’s passionate about starting public libraries for everyone, to encourage literacy amongst the masses. He truly sprouts out revolutionary Republican ideology from every pore of his skin, but he’s interesting company my exclusive dinner parties and soirées. Do you know he wants me to write to him about my conversations and opinions of James Madison and Andrew Jackson and the new president Martin Van Buren. These so called new Democratic Republican. It’s just another name for a Jacobite revolution, except with no monarchy at the end of it at all, heaven help us! Where would we be without God and the Queen!” Proposed Mrs. Prowse Robertson.

“I plan to give one of my properties around Pall Mall for this new public library, but I wanted someone from the family to lead the project and keep an eye on our passionate Keltic friend Mr. Thomas Carlyle.” Concluded Mrs. Prowse Robertson.

Without pausing she changed the subject and spoke to the waiting butler within hearing or bidding distance, standing just inside the royal suite cabin.

“That reminds me. Charles, kindly find that new first edition book from Mr. Carlyle, about more revolutionaries, and those untrustworthy French. I want to read now and enjoy the sun and fresh air.” Summoned Mrs. Prowse Robertson.

Charles the butler returned some minutes later with solemn face.

“Madam, I’m sorry we can’t find Mr. Carlyle’s book, we believe it was left behind in London during the rushed preparations for the sea voyage. But we did pack with all your planned reading a first edition from a new writer named Charles Dickens. He is talk of London right now Madam” said Charles the butler.

“How disappointing. Dickens or Dixon?” Questioned Mrs. Prowse Robertson

“Dickens, Madam.” Charles the butler responded.

I wonder what the outcome was for that wages clerk, John Dixon, at debtor’s court with my letter of guarantee. Debt is next ungodliness, so the bible says!” Mrs. Prowse Robertson rhetorically replied, but only as an afterthought.