An Experiment in Treason

by Alexander, Bruce

  Most of the prisoners had been taken by Constables Bailey and Patley in the course of breaking up a great battle in Bedford Street. The two sides in conflict, it seemed, were members of rival robber gangs. Such melees were common enough, and most often had to do with who might have the opportunity to rob whom in which part of town. There were a great many who were chained together and marched into the courtroom by Mr. Fuller. I had interviewed them all and read the arrest reports left by Constables Bailey and Patley, so that I knew in advance that none had been killed in the affray, nor had any received grievous bodily harm. There were a few bloodied heads, a broken arm or two, some missing teeth — that sort of thing. A certain restraint had been exercised: clubs had been used, neither pistols nor knives. I knew, too, that all meant to plead guilty and pay the fine of a pound that they might get out and get on with more serious matters of larceny. All this I passed on to Sir John. He said he would handle that case first.

  Seventeen had been arrested, and seventeen it was who hobbled in with Mr. Fuller, the day jailer, at their head. There was little room to seat so many, and so he herded them before us as I called the case and charged them to give their names. This they did, I following carefully to make certain that the names given in Sir John’s court matched those given me in the course of my interviews. That was the last of my duties with regard to the prisoners; the rest was now up to the magistrate of the Bow Street Court.

  “Have you elected one among you to speak for all?” asked Sir John. “I should be greatly disappointed if I must try each of you separately.”

  Not one, but two shuffled forward a step or two. One of them spoke up immediately.

  “There’s two of us will speak for the rest,” said he. “There was two sides of the fight, after all, so it’s best we do it so.”

  “What is your name, then? Is it Falker? So I remember it.”

  “Yes sir, Daniel Falker, at your service.”

  “And who speaks for the other side?” asked Sir John.

  “Henry Tinker,” said the other — his name and no more.

  “Very well, are all the rest of you in agreement with this? These two may speak for all?”

  There was an affirmative chorus in which all of the remaining fifteen seemed to sing forth.

  “And none opposed?”

  Silence.

  “In the report of the arresting officers, it was told that half of you were quite willing to give up the fight, but the rest were not. What was the course of this? Which side was the more pacific, and which the aggressor?”

  “We was peaceable,” said Tinker. “We did just like the two Beak Runners said. ‘

  “That’s ‘cause they was losin,” Falker blurted forth. “There was more of them, but we was better fighters.”

  “No such thing. We was just obeyin’ — “

  The tumult of laughter and shouting from the courtroom audience blotted out the last few words of Tinker’s sentence. Sir John beat so mightily upon the table with his gavel that I felt certain that he would break one or the other — yet he did not. He yelled for order. It was some minutes, however, before it was restored. When at last some semblance of silence was restored to the room, he leaned over to me.

  “They get worse and worse, do they not, Jeremy? If it continues so, I shall have to close these sessions to all but witnesses, litigants, and prisoners.”

  Secretly, I suspicioned he would never do such a thing. I believed that though he would be unlikely to admit it, he did truly enjoy these shouting matches with the riffraff of Covent Garden. Well did he know that his courtroom was notorious for its rowdiness and disorder. He cared naught that the lords and ladies who visited Number 4 Bow Street for their idle entertainment were oft-times shocked. Let them be. He had a certain affection for the rabble who came each noon. More often than they angered him, they amused him. Yet he gave no hint of this as he moved on with the proceeding. Remembering that Dr. Franklin sat just opposite us, he remained outwardly cold and severe in his manner.

  “Now that you can hear me, let me proceed with a few more questions, ” said he. “The arresting officers did also say in their report that it ‘was difficult to learn from either side just what this battle between you was all about. Can you say, Mr. Tinker?”

  “Well, sir,” said Henry Tinker, “It’s one of those things that just … just … well, it just started.”

  “Yes, but how did it start? Can you be somewhat more helpful on that, Mr. Falker?”

  “Perhaps I can. I would say it started because we was all drunk. And you know how it is, sir. When you’ve had a bit too much to drink, you sometimes takes offense at things you might not if you wasn’t under the influence, so to speak.”

  “It does sometimes happen so, ” Sir John admitted. “Some statement may be made, a boast, a bit of braggadocio, then a challenge thrown out, and before you know it, or even might have wanted it, you’ve a fight on your hands. Was that how it went?”

  “Ain’t that so, sir!” said Falker.

  “It’s almost like you was there!” said Tinker.

  “And by next morning, you can’t even recall what it was all about. Is that it, gentlemen?”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  “No question of it.”

  “But, Mr. Tinker, yours is a voice very familiar to me, and it is widely known that I never forget a voice,” said Sir John. “You’ve appeared before me here in the Bow Street Court, have you not?”

  Mr. Tinker looked left and right, as if hoping to find some way out of this predicament in one direction or another. But finding none, he returned his gaze to Sir John.

  “That’s right, sir, ‘twas about a sixmonth past.”

  “And it was on this very charge, was it not? Brawling? Simple assault? “

  Tinker sighed. “It was, sir.”

  “And what about you, Mr. Falker? Did you and some of these friends of yours put in an appearance here at that same occasion?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And was it not the same set of charges that brought you here today?”

  He hung his head. “It was.”

  “Tell me, both of you, what sort of punishment do you feel I should dole out to you and your fellows?”

  “Why indeed, sir, as I recollect, that earlier time we was all assessed a pound each,” said Falker. “Now, a pound is a lot to poor workin’ men like us, but considerin’ the serious charge and all, ‘twas just — oh, more than just, ‘twas merciful. P’rhaps you could see your way clear to finin’ us each a pound once again.”

  “Hmmm, interesting. And what about you, Mr. Tinker?”

  “I’m of the same mind. A pound apiece seems about right to me.”

  “It does, does it? Well, gentlemen, I am of a different mind, for as you can see, the fine you paid taught you nothing at all. Here you are, back again on the same charge. And so I think it time you served a sentence in jail — let us say sixty days for each, shall we?”

  They took that bravely enough. Yet Sir John was not finished.

  “And since,” he continued, “by your own admission, drunkenness was the cause of this riotous melee, I sentence each of you to thirty days for public drunkenness, the sentence to run consecutive to the sixty-day term for brawling and assault. In other words, each of you will serve ninety days in Newgate Gaol.”

  “Newgate!” Henry Tinker groaned as the others joined in.

  “But Sir John, sir, it’s a well-known fact that you send them off to the Fleet,” shouted Falker above the chorus of complaint. “That ain’t fair to send some one place and us to Newgate.”

  I happened at that moment to glance in the direction of Dr.

  Franklin. The look of consternation upon his face seemed equal unto that of any of the prisoners.

  “Oh, it is fair enough. I am free to fix your lodging in whichever jail or prison I like. Besides, in sending you off in such a way, I am conducting an experiment. I have reason to believe that I shall see the number of robberies in London decline q
uite remarkably.” He paused, then shouted them all down.

  “Mr. Fuller, take them away.”

  I accompanied Benjamin Franklin to Sir John’s chambers once again. But just at the door I found, to my surprise, that Clarissa awaited me. She carried a basket and was dressed for an outing. She stepped back, somewhat in awe, as I sent him inside and told him bluntly to wait for Sir John. I shut the door behind him and took her aside.

  “We’re all ready, ” said she. “How long will you be? ‘

  How long indeed? I was confused. “All ready for what? “

  “Don’t you remember? You said that you’d be free right after Sir John’s court session.”

  “I … I don’t …” And only then did I remember. “Our trip to Vauxhall Gardens, of course!”

  “Well, how long will it take you? Mr. Donnelly has rented a wagon — and thank goodness, he really does know how to drive it. Molly is sitting there beside him, and Tom, you, and I will be in back. It’s a perfect day for it, Jeremy — more like autumn than December. Come along. We’ve only a few hours of daylight left.”

  “But — I can’t. I just can’t. You saw who I sent into Sir John’s chambers — Benjamin Franklin!”

  “Yes, and I must say you did not treat him with the courtesy he deserves. You’ll never get anywhere in this world, Jeremy, if you don’t learn better manners.”

  “You don’t understand. Didn’t you read Dr. Franklin’s statement in this morning’s London Chronicle?” I looked at her dubiously. “No, of course you didn’t. You never read newspapers, do you?”

  “You know I don’t. I’ve always maintained that they concentrate too much on public events at the neglect of true human drama, which is ever so much more important.”

  “So you say. I’ll not argue the point with you now.”

  Far down the long hall I saw Sir John turn away from Mr. Fuller and the prisoners and start toward us.

  “Clarissa, I have been urging Sir John for weeks to question Benjamin Franklin a second time, and now he will do so. I simply miLit remain here for the interrogation. I am needed here. Can’t you understand that? “

  “Oh yes, I understand, ” said she, chin in the air. “What puzzles me merely is why you must always disappoint me so.”

  She turned then and flounced away with a great rustling of her skirts and clicking of heels. Yet she moved not so fast that I would have failed to see tears glistening in her eyes. They were there, in truth, for all to see.

  For all, that is, except Sir John.

  “Good day to you, Clarissa,” said he to her with a smile.

  After clearing her throat, she managed a proper greeting.

  A few steps beyond, he reached me and asked after her health. “Has she a catarrh, or perhaps just a case of the sniffles?”

  “The latter, I think, sir.”

  “Well, she must be careful — and you, too. This is the season for such, you know. I wouldn’t want any of you infected with this ‘influenza’ that has Mr. Marsden down. He’s evidently far more ill than we supposed.”

  I was greatly frustrated at having missed the trip to the Vauxhall Gardens. Oh, I had been there once or twice before, but I had heard that the autumn leaves decorated it still, and there was much beauty yet to be seen there — even now, so late in the year. Yet I supposed that Tom Durham would do as well as I for Clarissa’s escort. Quite honestly, I feared that he would do all too well. He had only returned from York two days past after an absence of a week. During that time I felt I had won her back from Tom. True, when he first arrived, I had ridiculed her behavior somewhat. Yet she no longer followed him about and stared at him, for the excellent reason that he was no longer present to be followed and stared at. Nevertheless, during the time he was absent I made a great effort to win back her attention, even her affection, because in all truth I had come to miss her and, indeed, to miss her terribly. Was I jealous?

  Surely not. Yet I was certain that if I had observed those same changes in another, I would have named that person jealous. But now Tom was back, much changed from the cocky and rather repugnant fellow who had left. Was the change due to his visit to his dying grandmother? Or because of the shock he had felt in seeing Annie’s swift rise? Whatever the reason, he came back from York a changed young man — quieter, more considerate and sensible. Nevertheless, just as handsome as before — at least, perhaps, in Clarissa’s eyes.

  In spite of all this, I had chosen to remain in order to witness Dr. Franklin’s interrogation. I was convinced for the time being that I had chosen wisely and properly, and would probably remain so for the next few hours. After that, I was not near so certain.

  Though not much pleased by it. Dr. Franklin had been deeply impressed by the rough justice that Sir John had administered. Before he was even addressed, much less asked a question, he put forth a comment which said far more than he may have intended.

  “I have heard, ” said he, “that ninety days in Newgate will kill some men.”

  “These I have sent there will survive.”

  “Perhaps, but all the same, it does seem a particularly severe sentence for brawling in the streets.”

  “It would, were it not for the fact that these two gangs were fighting over territories which they might have as their own to pillage and plunder.”

  “Pillage and plunder?”

  “They are thieves. Dr. Franklin. They would as soon take you down a dark alley, knock you over the head, and strip you of your clothing as they would greet you in the street. They prey upon prostitutes, poor shopkeepers, and the like. Falker’s gang left an old couple bleeding in their home because they were at first unwilling to surrender their life savings. They are bad men, all of them.”

  “If you know this to be true, then why do you not pass them on for trial at Old Bailey?”

  “Why, because I have no evidence against them and I have found no witness who is willing to testify against them. And so I have decided to make do by getting them off the streets whenever possible. This battle in Bedford Street afforded me just such an opportunity. Do you wish to know what it was about?” .

  “Indeed I would like to know.”

  “The Tinkers, who have always operated in and around Seven Dials, took off on a bit of a robbing spree in the environs of Bedford Street, which has always been the territory of the Falkers. The line was drawn and the Tinkers stepped over it. A battle royal ensued, and both sides lost because both will spend the next three months in Newgate.”

  “And why did you merely fine them when last they appeared before you?”

  “Why, because we were trying to put an informer in their midst. Unfortunately, the informer himself was betrayed and murdered.”

  “Oh.”

  “Now you. Dr. Franklin, would not get off with a fine, I can assure you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why, if I choose, I may now put you under arrest and send you off to Newgate for a term of three months. That would be about right. I’d have to check the books on that to be absolutely certain.”

  “And what would the charge be?” Franklin demanded. “Surely you have no proof that I was in any wise involved in the actual theft of the letters from Lord Hillsborough.”

  “No, I have none, but I need none.”

  “How can that be, sir? Or have the protections of English law already been put aside here in England?”

  “You have asked what the charge would be, and I shall tell you,” said Sir John in his deepest, gravest court voice. “The charge would be ‘Giving a false statement to a magistrate.’”

  “But I told you that at the time you questioned me, I knew nothing of the letters, nor of their theft.”

  “You said, as I recall, that you only knew of it what you had read in the newspapers.”

  “That’s right. It was not until the following day that I learned more.”

  “So you say,” said Sir John. “If I choose not to believe you, then you have given a false statement to a magistrate. And
frankly, Dr. Franklin, I don’t believe you.”

  “But I have told you how it was!” Franklin cried out in exasperation.

  “A simple denial of the charge is no defense.”

  “What, then, would be a defense?”

  “Well, if you were to give me the name of him who passed on to you the packet of these famous letters, he might back up your version of the events.”

  “What if I were to give you my word?”

  “What good would that do, for it is, after all, your veracity that I am calling to question. As I see it, your statement in today’s London Chronicle casts doubt effectively upon all that you said at my table.”

  “But could you, as the magistrate, try the case?”

  “I don’t know why not. First of all, who better than a magistrate knows when he is being lied to? Secondly, are you sure you would prefer this to being tried in Old Bailey? I doubt that you would.”

  “Why? Why are you so sure?”

  “Well, because Old Bailey is a felony court. Perhaps you’re unaware of the distinction, but giving a false statement to a magistrate is naught but a misdemeanor, and misdemeanors are not tried in felony court — unless, of course, the false statement charge were tied to another.”

  “Such as?”

  “Oh, such as conspiracy to commit treason, or outright treason. I recall telling you at our earlier meeting that Lord Mansfield was eager to conduct a treason trial. Jeremy here was present when it was discussed. He will confirm it, I think.”

  “Not necessary,” said Dr. Franklin before I could frame the sort of response that Sir John had called for. “You were quite right to assume that I would not wish to be tried in felony court. But is there no other magistrate in London who could try it?”

  “There is Saunders Welch, of course. He could, I suppose, but I’m not sure that he would, if you follow me.”

  “Why is that? Why shouldn’t he be willing?”

  “He might fear that if he were to find in your favor — though in the case of Mr. Welch that seems unlikely — I might, in some way, seek to get back at him. And it has long been bandied about London that not all his practices could stand close scrutiny. No, I believe you would do better taking your chance with me. After all, you can speak for yourself in my court, and you know from our earlier discussion that there is naught I like better than hearing a good argument. You may have my word, sir, that if you can present justification for your behavior, I will discharge you without a moment’s hesitation.”