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Darlinghurst Gaol,
19th December 1879
FROM PRISONER: Andrew G. Scott (Alias Moonlight)
TO: D. Harbord Esq., C.E.
My dear Harbord,
I cannot leave this world without writing you a line. The day I left Melbourne I had only a moment and therefore my letter was very short. I told you then I would write to you when I got something to do, that was on the first of September, since then I walked nearly five hundred miles and did all I could to get work. The money you kindly sent me (I paid most of it away, the rest of it kept me and my friends in food) and then I sold clothes &c. till at last all were gone.
I suppose you have heard all the reports and falsehoods. I therefore wish to let you know the truth.
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I write from the condemned cell from which I know my fate. I wish to honestly speak what is true. Since I went free I have been very miserable. I went out of Pentridge with great resolution. I spoke the fact as to Mr. Deakin’s Penal Establishments and Reformatories, and their cruel influences. I was opposed by wealth and power, by slander and perjury.
I had a few friends who were kind (yourself, one only). I had one friend, my own dearest Jim (James Nesbitt). He comforted me and supported me in sickness and sorrow — we were friends for years and never one feeling of unkindness ever was in one of our minds to the other. We were one in heart and soul. He died in my arms and I long to join him where there shall be no more parting, no more injustice.
I am sure it will be a pleasure to you to know that your friendship has been a comfort to me, and that your influence has been for good.
There is one thing I must mention. Since I first promised you not to drink, I have not done so except as medicine. I have not broken it. When I left Melbourne I was very weak, suffering from the dropsy of my illness in Albury (a mere form and congestion of the lungs). I was ordered some stimulant, but I had only the money you kindly lent me and could not purchase any things with it, so I knew you would not like it to go to liquor if I could avoid it.
When at the station, the scene of the last dreadful affair, I only had a very little (not more than ordered as medicine) and I was not in the slightest degree under influence of it. I had drained the cup of bitterness to the dregs. I may have been (mentally) drunk with misery.
However I am about to die, and wish to die in the faith we know, the Penal system purifies and the so-called Reformatory its opposite shadow only.
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… and perjury drove me more near graceless. Let prisoners be taught to hope and discharged prisoners saved from relentless persecution.
My poor friend Nesbitt has left a mother and three young sisters (the father drinks). If you can befriend them, do so for my sake. My other three companions in condemned cells are not likely to die. They have to live in part — would you occasionally write a line to them, warn and encourage them. Let them remember my fate.
(Charlie known as Tom Williams) is my favourite and was dear Jim’s. Tom Rogan is a kind-hearted good fellow. Graham Bennett I have known but a short time. Poor fellow would that I never had seen him. They may ultimately go free then you might give them a helping hand to get work.
Harbord, my dear true old friend, I must bid you farewell forever. Please remember me with a little kindness. Do not be too hard. I have erred greatly but I have been sorely tried without — I have been more sinned against than sinning. I do not offer this as an excuse for my conduct. I know it is wrong. My life has been very, very bitter. My end is near.
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Darlinghurst Gaol, 19th December 1879
PRISONER'S LETTER — PASSED BY PERMISSION.
FROM PRISONER: Andrew G. Scott, “The Moonlight”
I know you will be delighted to hear that I am neither a murderer in thought or deed.
Dear Jim in his earlier life was taught by the Christian Brothers (a Roman Catholic order) and that teaching influenced his conduct — sometimes it seemed dormant, generally more or less active, but as his life closed it shone forth with splendid brilliancy.
On that fatal day, on that evil hour, when discord and anger reigned, he alone was moved by a spirit of Providence Charity.
I was armed with a double-barrelled breech loading gun, I had plenty of heavy shot —
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the police were close around wishing their lives. You know how I can shoot. You know that no fear should shake my hand.
I was about to open fire with that gun. Nesbitt said, “Where will be the good line of life and that the gun has would inflict dreadful wounds.”
He said to me, “Surrender.” I said, “Never shall I ever will surrender.” (This is to the speed of the conversation.)
He put his hands on my shoulders, gently drew me to him, and as he kindly looked into my eyes he said, “George, shed no blood for my sake, promise me.”
I gave the promise. He disarmed me.
Mr. Nesbitt — that was my last fight, my greatest victory.
I am proud of such a friend. I am proud that in that hour our friendship was strong enough to stay my hand.
He was shot, his last word a prayer. I heard to die, “Thy will be done.”
Surely in death “There is Mercy shall comfort me, his death has robbed death of its sting.”
Christ’s spirit comfort my dearest Father and Mother and my brothers, last is to bid them adieu.
Adieu, Harbour, yours affectionate friend,
A. G. Scott
