by Roy Lewis
I felt as though a knife was turning slowly in my gut. But I remained outwardly impassive. ‘I doubt that conversation ever occurred. And I am sure you will be unable to provide any corroboration of it. As for the letter . . . I have already told you Ingram was merely one of many others who gave me financial support at Marylebone. He asked me how much I needed. I told him.’
‘But you were in a special relationship with Ingram when you took that loan! You can’t compare him with Duke and Dickson and others – you were not acting as an advocate against those other supporters, as you describe them! This was extortion, James, and you know it. This was a payment made under threats . . . and the evidence is that you did not repeat your devastating performance in the second hearing. You didn’t, because Ingram had paid you to go easy!’
He stood up, and walked towards the door. ‘You may argue about the repayment – and there is no record of it among Ingram’s papers – but you will not be able to escape the consequences of your behaviour. You dined at Swineshead Hall with Ingram. You knew he was terrified of you, afraid to face you again in the courtroom. And you made it clear to him that if he did not lend you his financial support, you would tear him to shreds again! That’s why he lent you the money. It was not to support you in your damned Reform ideas, it was to pay you off, to make sure you’d go easy with him in the appeal hearing. And that’s precisely what happened. A compromise! No further cross-examination! I know, James, and the world shall know that this was nothing less than professional misconduct! I shall proclaim it and it will be the end of your career at the Bar!’
PART 2
1
I was somewhat shaken, of course, after my encounter with Watkins, but I remained fairly confident of my ability to brazen out the criticism because the provable facts were on my side. There had been no particular difference in my tactics in the two hearings of Scully v Ingram. True, I had not subjected the newspaper proprietor to a second cross-examination, but that had been because Scully had agreed to a compromise to avoid further costs – Ingram of course wasn’t worried about the money he’d have to expend to regain his so-called honour. And my old friend Alexander Cockburn – now elevated to the bench – had agreed and approved of the compromise. So if Watkins was to make a complaint to the Benchers of my Inn, what could they do about his complaint? In my view, nothing. It was like the election at Horsham all over again. The dealings I had had with Ingram – the money he lent me – it was outside the boundaries of their jurisdiction. They could concern themselves only with professional matters and, like at Horsham, the relationship with Ingram over a loan to support my candidature at Marylebone was a private matter, not a legal one.
Of course, I was still somewhat anxious, with the Dickson pamphlet appearing, consequent muttering in the clubs, and Watkins’s threat of a complaint to the Benchers of Inner Temple hanging over my head. But more seriously, there was also the ongoing business regarding the loans advanced to me by young Lord Wilton.
There were other creditors as well, I am forced to admit – several ladies who had enjoyed my favours and I theirs – but these were manageable. A hot thrashing-about between the sheets for instance, often satisfied – or at least delayed – a financial demand for repayment of a loan. And I could also manage young Wilton. He was still taken up with admiration for my talents, swept along by my success in fighting for Dr Bernard and James Anderson. . . .
What? I haven’t told you about Anderson? Well, it was another sensation at that time: he was a black slave who had escaped his master – unfortunately killing him in the process – and the Southern states were trying to get him extradited to face trial in America. I took up his case in England, and persuaded the court that Alabama writs could not run in our jurisdiction. I was hailed yet again as a hero, Worsley was much impressed, and continued to be reliant upon me for further introductions into Haymarket nightlife. He still remained open-handed, prepared to back my due bills with his signature; but his father was another matter.
Or at least the Earl of Yarborough’s solicitor was another matter.
He was a ferret-faced little man, Mr Tallents. He wore an attorney’s black frock coat with no hint of colour in his dress that might detract from his air of purpose. He had bulldog eyes, droopy, pouched, full of unswerving menace behind pince-nez spectacles. His teeth were stained, sharply pointed, as though ready to tear an opponent’s flesh, and he assured me that his client had no desire to meet me personally to discuss matters; rather the Earl had full confidence in his attorney, Mr Tallents, to reach a satisfactory resolution in the matter of my indebtedness to his heir, Lord Worsley.
Tallents and I met some months after my return from Garibaldi’s camp, at his insistence, in my chambers one Friday evening. I was feeling exhausted after a long day in Queen’s Bench protecting the bank account of an amorous pork-pie seller from the financial demands of a Haymarket whore, so I was not at my aggressive best when the redoubtable Mr Tallents launched the first broadside. He started quietly enough.
‘You know George Lewis, I imagine.’
‘The attorney? Of course. He has briefed me on a number of occasions.’
‘He holds you in high regard, professionally. The leading counsel in nisi prius matters. An opinion also held, it seems, by Lord Chief Justice Campbell.’
‘I am happy to be regarded as such by attorneys and judges.’
He smiled; it had an edge that reminded me of an executioner’s sword. ‘But they don’t know the full story, do they, Mr James?’
‘I’m not sure I understand what you mean,’ I lied.
‘An excellent practitioner in the courtroom you may well be. But your conduct outside has been somewhat reprehensible. Not least in the keeping of your word. You would seem to regard the giving of a promise as a matter of little consequence.’
‘I resent that comment!’
‘Resent away, Mr James. I have discussed matters in detail with Lord Yarborough and we are in full agreement. It would seem that the promise you made to Lord Yarborough some weeks ago has not been kept,’ he averred.
Nettled, I replied testily, ‘I can assure you that is not the case. I wrote to him to assure him that the debts incurred against Lord Worsley’s signature would be settled as they fell due.’
‘Quite so. But you also assured him that you would batten upon Lord Worsley no further.’
‘I object strongly to your use of the word batten! Lord Worsley sees me as a friend and—’
‘And therein lies the problem. His lordship is young, immature and impressionable. His father is of the opinion that he is unable to protect himself against an adventurer such as you.’
‘Tallents, I will not take such language from you! I warn you—’
‘Oh, come, come, Mr James! I may be a humble attorney in the company of an eminent barrister such as yourself, but I am not overawed by the glitter of your legal reputation or the bombast of your protests. I have been making enquiries. I am apprised of most of the facts. And I have a specific function here today. It is to bring to an end the predations you have continued to make upon the heir to the Yarborough estates.’
It was promising to be a beautiful autumn evening in the Temple Gardens. In my chambers a chill seemed to have settled on the room. I took a deep breath.
‘Look here, Tallents, you need to report back to Lord Yarborough that he has no cause for anxiety. The debts shall be paid as the bills fall due. It will not be a problem for me. Don’t you know how much I earn each year? In excess of £11,000! Yes, I have incurred debts but I insist they are manageable.’
When Tallents replied, his tone was remarkably mild, with almost a hint of mocking wonder. ‘You deceive yourself, Mr James. I have made discreet, but wide-ranging enquiries. By my reckoning you owe somewhat in the region of the vast sum of £100,000. How can you hope to repay such a sum – which I suspect is on the lower side of reality?’
‘It cannot be that much,’ I blustered. ‘And surely you’ve heard that I’m on the firs
t rung of a ladder which will increase my earnings hugely! I have it from the lips of the Prime Minister himself that I’m about to be elevated to the position of a Law Officer of the Crown! You must be perfectly aware that once I am Attorney General or Solicitor General my earning capacity will increase massively. It could rise to perhaps £20,000 a year. Look at Lord Denman’s earnings in past times, and Sir John Jervis’s. Look at—’
Tallents held up a hand to silence me. I can see that claw-like, bony structure still in my mind’s eye. His eyes were stony.
‘Ah yes, to be sure. A Law Officer of the Crown. And a knighthood. That is something else that concerns Lord Yarborough. He knows well enough what such a position can mean to your earnings. And to your future. The next vacant judgeship would be in your grasp. His lordship, I fear, does not view such prospects with equanimity.’
I was momentarily stunned, I tell you. I could not believe what I was hearing; I could not believe the cold enmity in Tallents’ tone: It was clear to me he was enjoying this conversation immensely. ‘I . . . I am not certain . . . what are you implying?’ I stammered. ‘His lordship—’
‘His lordship,’ Tallents cut in sharply, ‘is well aware of the immense earnings that you are likely to acquire in the near future, as a leading member of the Bar. He has no desire to curtail those earnings, provided they can be assigned to the extinction of the debts guaranteed by his son and heir.’
I moistened my lips, somewhat relieved. There would be a certain problem with that, since much of my income was already being grabbed by that damned Wimborne attorney Fryer, in the settling of my debts to him over the lease of the house in Berkeley Square and certain other advances he had made to me. But that consideration could wait. I nodded. ‘I feel sure we can come to an appropriate arrangement in that respect. I would wish you to assure Lord Yarborough that it will be my earnest intention to relieve him of all anxieties concerning the bills signed by Lord Worsley.’
‘Lord Yarborough,’ he replied drily, ‘will be grateful for that assurance. Lightly given as it may be. But you have not let me finish. I have not yet expressed to you the remainder of Lord Yarborough’s feelings in this matter.’
‘You can assure him—’
‘He requires action, not assurances, Mr James. In the first instance, apart from the early settling of the bills signed by Lord Worsley he requires that you have no further communication with his son and heir.’
‘The friendship has been pressed more by Lord Worsley than by me,’ I insisted stoutly. ‘I have not taken advantage—’
Tallents cut in upon my protestations, raising an admonitory, claw-like hand. ‘The Earl of Yarborough has also authorized me to insist upon certain other conditions if you are to be allowed to continue with your professional life. Perhaps you would allow me to detail these conditions?’
I was puzzled, and wary. I had expected Tallents to insist that I stay away from Worsley but that was of no great concern to me: I was becoming bored with the young man’s drooling admiration for my talents even if financially the heir to the Yarborough estates had proved a useful companion when the moneylenders called around.
‘Conditions. . . ?’ I said weakly.
Tallents drew from his pocketbook a sheet of paper which he consulted briefly. I was certain he was already fully aware of the contents of the paper: he was delaying his little speech for malicious effect.
‘His lordship considers that over the last two or three years you have behaved in a reprehensible manner with regard to his son. You have gulled Lord Worsley, dunned him, caused a rift between him and his father, and plunged the callow young man into a morass of debt. These have not been the actions of an honourable man. His lordship therefore requires that as a matter of principle you must make reparation by resigning from your gentlemen’s clubs.’
I stared at him for several moments, dumbfounded. ‘Resign from Brookes’ and the Reform? What purpose does that serve?’
Tallents sniffed loftily. ‘Lord Yarborough does not consider you to be a gentleman in your conduct towards his son. His forbearance from your exposure will depend on your resignations.’
An angry heat rose in my chest. In a sarcastic tone, I said, ‘I imagine this will not be the last of his lordship’s demands.’
‘Quite so,’ Tallents replied, almost cheerfully. ‘He requires also that you resign from your seat in the House of Commons.’
‘What?’
‘You must step down from representation of Marylebone. Lord Yarborough does not consider you a suitable person to represent the people of that notable borough.’
‘I feel sure,’ I snarled, ‘that his political persuasions will have something to do with that demand. I am a Radical whereas his lordship is as far to the right as one could possibly be!’
‘I cannot comment upon that viewpoint. I am here merely to follow his lordship’s instructions. He further considers—’
‘He has more demands to make?’
Tallents permitted himself a thin, malicious smile. He glanced at the paper in his hands, and caressed his wispy moustache. ‘The list is not complete, Mr James. In the same manner that his lordship feels you to be unworthy of membership of your clubs and of a seat in the Commons, he is also of the opinion that in view of your general reputation and behaviour, it is highly inappropriate that you should continue to act in a judicial capacity, passing judgment on others . . . namely, he insists that you also step down from your position as Recorder of Brighton.’
I was stunned. I slumped back in my chair. I needed a brandy and water. ‘This is monstrous,’ I murmured.
Tallents was cool. ‘No, Mr James. Merely inevitable.’
‘But if I am to be allowed to make a living, pay debts when they are due, I need to maintain my practice, my legal standing, the Recordership. . . .’
Blandly, Tallents cut in on my protestations. Outside the window of my chambers a late evening thrush was in full song, in sharp contrast to the droning tones of the attorney facing me. ‘You will stand down as Recorder of Brighton. But you will continue in practice as Queen’s Counsel. His lordship and I have gone into the matter thoroughly: I have prepared for him detailed estimates of your likely future earnings. They will be considerable – no one doubts your ability to earn huge fees, Mr James. At the next election there will be the usual rash of election committees and you have already proved that you are a past master at that game. The briefs reaching your chambers will be numerous and your fee income will rise enormously. Your undoubted success in these issues will enhance your professional reputation and your work at nisi prius will no doubt continue to garner much by way of professional fees. By my calculation, during the course of the next five years you should be averaging the princely sum of between twenty and thirty thousand pounds each year. This money shall be assigned to his lordship, and used by him to pay off your numerous creditors who in the meantime will be persuaded to stand back against his lordship’s own, personal guarantees. You see,’ Tallents added drily, ‘it is not merely his son his lordship wishes to protect. There are also the other, numerous, sometimes small creditors whom you have pushed by your extravagance to the edge of penury.’
Grimly, between gritted teeth, I muttered, ‘And how am I to live in the meanwhile, slaving in the courts but having my fees taken from me?’
‘Soberly, Mr James. His lordship will be prepared to make you a small living allowance. But there will be no more Haymarket. No more night houses. No more gambling hells. And no more Friday-to-Mondays at country houses. You will turn aside from society. You will live a productive and restrained life. And in due course, by my calculations, in perhaps five or six years’ time the restrictions placed upon you may be lifted. By which time, hopefully, you will have seen the mad error of your ways in the past.’
A silence grew around us for some little time. Even the thrush in the courtyard outside seemed to have been affected: her song had died away. At last I roused myself from my sickened torpor. I shook my head dolefully. ‘I
don’t see how I can concur with these conditions.’
‘I don’t believe you have any real choice, Mr James. His lordship is offering you the opportunity for redemption.’
‘His terms are harsh.’
‘But necessary. You are an unscrupulous hedonist, Mr James. Your reputation echoes in the halls of Westminster and the Temple. You are a spendthrift. You are dissolute. You are without remorse in preying upon the vulnerable. You must reform. The alternative. . . .’ He paused, and eyed me carefully. ‘If you do not agree these conditions, the Earl of Yarborough will be forced to proclaim your disgraceful behaviour to the world.’ His thin lips twisted maliciously. ‘I have amassed considerable details regarding your debts. These details will be made public. You have shown considerable skill in keeping most of your creditors unaware of the existence of each other. That will change. The result will be the Bankruptcy Court. After which . . . there will be no earnings at the Bar. You will be ruined, Mr James. As much an Untouchable as that most degraded section of the population of India.’
‘Reform,’ I sneered. ‘You sound like a preacher from Exeter Hall. You sound as though you seek to save my soul.’
‘It is time someone attempted to do so,’ Tallents replied pompously. ‘And Lord Yarborough has taken the task upon himself. Through my agency.’
He passed to me the sheet of paper he held in his hands. I stared at it with dulled senses. It contained a list of the demands being made by Lord Yarborough. It was, in effect, a draft letter that I would have to accede to, and sign.
I had signed many papers in the course of my career. Many had been bills, either in my favour or to assist friends and colleagues in the discharge of their debts. I had witnessed wills of the wealthy, signed certificates of death – including that of the fraudster John Sadleir. But that is all they were . . . signatures on a piece of paper. At the thought, my spirits began to rise again. The main thing was that I should keep the pack at bay, continue to be able to appear in the courts. Lord Yarborough and his legal adviser were right in that at least. I could still make considerable sums by way of professional fees. That was the important thing; the rest of it amounted to a setback to my political career but it was no more than that. While my practice was still open to me I could get out of this situation. I could recover. I could reach the heights again. I took a deep breath. The important thing was not to panic. I needed to calculate, weigh things in the balance. The Earl of Yarborough could ruin me. But I had to buy time. . . .