(The CLERK identified the PRISONERS. MR. BEST opened the PROSECUTION.)
The case you are called on as Jurymen to decide appears to me one of the highest importance that can come for consideration in the shape of a felony. The men before you are prosecuted under laws of old standing. Their behaviour exceeds that of the worst creatures of the field. Once before in history, sodomites caused the destruction of two cities by defying the code of the Lord. To allow these men to live is to court disaster.
SAMUEL TAUNTON Sworn. – Examined by Mr Best.
Q. What are you?
A. I am the officer who had the execution of the warrant.
Q. When did you apprehend the men?
A. On the 9th of July, at about eleven o’clock. I went with other officers to The Swan and took up the before-named persons, except the landlord, in the attics.
Q. What did you see in the attics?
A. The upper part of the house was given over to appetite. Men of rank and respectable situations were found wallowing on beds with wretches of the lowest description.
Q. Did you see any of the prisoners engaging in sodomitical practices?
A. I did.
Q. How many men were there?
A. There were about thirty of them in all, gentlemen and gentlemen’s servants together.
Q. What do you know of the prisoner Amos?
A. I saw him guilty of a very dirty action. They were all in liquor. Their conversation was full of lewd conceits.
Q. Can you positively undertake to swear that this man was in The Swan?
A. Yes, I am positive of it.
Q. What action did he engage in?
A. I saw Amos unbutton Donne’s breeches and put up his shirt.
Q. Did an assault take place?
A. Amos turned him on his belly and kept him down. He told him to lie quiet. I saw him take his yard and put it to Donne’s fundament.
Q. Did it enter his body?
A. It went a little way in, not far.
Q. Was there any seed?
A. Amos wiped it on his shirt.
Q. What else did you see?
A. I saw Donne use Francis as if he were a girl. He put his hands in his bosom and made signs of amorous intention. He took hold of the nut of his yard. Francis offered to sit bare in Donne’s lap.
Q. Where did this take place?
A. In the attics of The Swan.
Q. Did Francis make good on his offer?
A. He did. Donne drew out his p – k. He used spit to make it glib.
Q. Was there any seed?
A. I saw something run from Francis’s body, and saw him wipe some wet off.
Q. Do you recognize the prisoner Aspinall?
A. Yes.
Q. Did you see him commit a bestial act?
A. I saw another man place his instrument in his mouth.
Q. Which man was that?
A. I do not know his name. He is not among the prisoners.
Q. Are you positive Aspinall is the man you saw commit this bestial act?
A. I saw the other man follow him upstairs, and say what sort of a c – k have you got? Let me feel it, which he did. He said it was not so big as his. Then he took him to a couch and set him down on it, unbuttoned his breeches, then worked it. Then he sat down, put his hand behind him and put it into his b – e, and worked up and down. Then Aspinall took his yard and sucked it.
Q. Was there any seed? A man’s life is at forfeit.
A. I believe there was.
Q. Take care when you answer since another man’s life may be at forfeit.
A. They lay in a darkish place and other men were crowded round them. I believe there must have been some because Aspinall wiped his mouth.
Q. Are you willing to swear to an emission?
A. I am.
Q. Did the prisoner submit quietly to this abuse?
A. He seemed to reconcile himself to his treatment.
Q. Did anyone attempt to use you unnaturally?
A. A gentleman offered me three guineas if I would lie with him in one of the upstairs rooms, and afterwards he offered to make it up to ten.
Q. Did you indulge this unnatural desire?
A. The thought of that transaction made me sick.
(JOHN WARDLE was called for examination by Mr. Best, but did not appear.)
(MR. Brockton was employed for the DEFENCE)
MR. Brockton – Mr. Taunton has given a full account of the behaviour of the Vere Street club, and I believe it was Mr. Wardle’s intention to do the same. In the light of this evidence, I decline to trespass on the time of the Jury by offering a defence. It cannot be consistent with my own character. Instead, I call on each of the prisoners to tell their own story and will leave the Jury to form their own conclusions.
FRANCIS Sworn. – Examined by Mr. Brockton.
Q. What are you?
A. Guardsman, 3d regiment. 23 Tottenhall Road.
Q. Do you deny the charges?
A. Every word. I drank beer, nothing else. I was not in the action. Every word he says is as false as God is true. I do not deny that bad opprobrious language passed between us, and Mr. Taunton may have drawn false conclusions from it. Our talk was the jest of men in liquor. I had not such a thought as the things suggested here, which are obnoxious to me.
DONNE Sworn. – Examined by Mr. Brockton.
Q. What are you?
A. Waiter. 10 Drury Lane.
Q. Do you deny the charges?
A. I deny them.
Q. Do you deny the testimony of Mr. Taunton?
A. I do. He was worse than any of the men there, and perjures himself to strike back at those who refused his unnatural longings. He has a piqué against us. I saw him emit in his hand in sight of everyone.
(The prisoner was reminded that he, not MR. TAUNTON, stood under examination)
AMOS Sworn. – Examined by Mr. Brockton.
Q. What are you?
A. Customs man. 7 Foster Lane.
Q. Do you deny the charges and testimonies against you?
A. I deny them all. I am a loving husband and a tender father, an honest man in all my dealings.
Q. Did you take your private member out of your breeches in the presence of the prisoner Francis?
A. I asked Francis whether he was ever clapped, and he said, no, nor poxed neither. I said I feared I had shankers, and asked him to look. Nothing further took place.
ASPINALL Sworn. – Examined by Mr. Brockton.
Q. What are you?
A. Physician. 15 Store Street.
Q. Do you deny the charges and testimonies?
A. I do.
COOKE Sworn. – Examined by Mr. Brockton.
Q. What are you?
A. Landlord of The White Swan, Vere Street, Clare Market.
Q. Did you allow lewd behaviour in your house?
A. I did, and I am sorry for it. I saw the prisoners f – k each other many times. They assembled in my house for the purpose of lewd behaviour. I admit that I participated in all the guilt, except the final completion of it, which is abhorrent to my nature. But I consider myself more criminal since I had no unnatural inclinations to gratify. I was prompted by avarice only.
Q. Did you never indulge in the lewdness?
A. I did not.
(CHARACTERS)
ELIZABETH MASEY. I have known Mr. Francis about three years. He lived with Mr. Headley. He always behaved to me as one that had affection to women, so far as I was able to judge.
JANE PINKNEY. I have known Mr. Amos between two and three years. He behaved as a man that had a high regard for women. I never suspected him guilty of any indecencies with his own sex, and do not think him capable of it.
ELISHA WARD. I have known Mr. Donne about two years. I never saw, or knew anything by him, tending to this kind he is now charged with. His general character was good, as far as ever I heard.
In order to convict a person upon an indictment for sodomy, the act of PARLIAMENT requires that emission of
seed should be proved, as well as penetration, sworn to by two eyewitnesses. The JURY, not feeling there was, in any case heard, sufficient evidence of spermatick injection to convict with a CAPITAL sentence, but rather of the attempt at a crime, produced the following VERDICT:
AMOS – GUILTY. Aged 52
FRANCIS – GUILTY. Aged 26
DONNE – GUILTY. Aged 40
COOKE – GUILTY. Aged 35
ASPINALL – GUILTY. Aged 27
Sentenced to Stand One Hour in the Pillory,
Tried by the second Middlesex Jury,
before LORD EYRE.
Wyre stared at the vellum, feeling his throat tighten. Brockton had defended the Vere Street gang? It made no sense. What the devil had gone on that afternoon? Had everyone forgotten their roles? Brockton didn’t know his to begin with. The man’s incompetence came through strongly in the transcript. He’d as good as thrown his charges to the dogs. If Wardle had actually turned up, they’d all be stinking on a surgeon’s anatomy slab now. But why had it been necessary to give Brockton the defence brief in the first place? Surely Mitchell wouldn’t have passed up his big chance to impress.
It didn’t add up. None of it did.
34. Modus Operandi
At a news hut near the Sessions House, Wyre exchanged tuppence for a copy of The Gazette. Mollies Discovered in St James’s Park! All the newsrags were at it, rootling Vere Street titbits into soul-shaking headlines. Wyre made his way to the hackney rank, and was directed to a bright blue rig. He clambered in, and settled back to absorb the latest commotion.
A miscreant of the name Carter was taken into custody on Saturday night, charged by a young man of the name of Purdy, servant to a cheesemonger in the Strand, with a criminal assault in St James’s Park.
The avenues leading to the Watchhouse of St James were choked with at least 5,000 people early in the morning, waiting for the escort of the prisoner to this office. He was handcuffed with a man charged with felony. Before they had got out of the street, the features of both celebrants of indiscipline were dark with blood. The monster was committed for trial.
The magistrate’s office was surrounded by thousands of persons during the examination, the greatest part of whom waited to assail the prisoner on his way to prison.
A cheesemonger . . . What next, a Royal Shiner of Shoes? He dozed the remaining three miles to his apartment.
Wyre climbed the stairs in a daze, stopping short at his entrance. Framed in his doorway was a slender woman in a dark mulberry dress and blue shawl. Had Rose come back to him? It was Miss Crawford who turned. He felt a hot flush. If the clerk had given up a lawyer’s private address, there’d be a reckoning.
“Mr Wyre,” she began, blushing. “I told your landlady you’d agreed to look over some legal documents. I apologize for the deceit. I had to speak to you.”
He regarded her for a moment in silence, then opened the door, motioning for her to enter. He owed her an explanation.
Miss Crawford stepped inside. She looked around his flash apartment.
“I was taken ill before your fiancé’s trial,” he said, leading her to Rose’s lady’s chair. “Things might have been a good deal worse.” As he said it, he felt absurd.
“Worse, Mr Wyre?” Her head made an odd jerking movement, like some expensive clockwork toy. She sat down, clasping her hands in her lap. “But it isn’t the trial I’ve come about.”
“Then I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“When the verdict was made public, the Director of Wood’s Close wrote to my fiancé terminating his employment.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Wyre didn’t say he wasn’t surprised.
“Three days ago,” she continued, “Robert took a coach to the asylum to collect his belongings, and to bid his patients farewell.” Her face was suddenly desolate. “He didn’t return, Mr Wyre. I’m afraid something’s happened.”
Wyre looked levelly at her. “I take it you were expecting him back?”
She blinked. “Yes, Mr Wyre, I expected him back. We planned to leave London as soon as his injuries healed. I wrote to Professor Ashcroft, the Director, the following morning, demanding to know where Robert went after leaving Wood’s Close. I have yet to receive a reply.”
Miss Crawford’s thin shawl slipped to one side. That smooth, bare shoulder, dark where Rose’s skin was almost translucent. Wyre had an unbidden vision of his wife, the pretty clergyman’s daughter, the flower of a provincial forcing-house next to this natural beauty.
“Your fiancé went alone?”
She nodded.
“Did he take anything with him?”
She gave him a quizzical look.
“Such as a change of clothes.” He pictured Aspinall making for the coast in a fast mail coach, his hands all over some wiry terrier of a man.
Miss Crawford blinked. “You think Robert returned to those men.”
He shrugged. There was no point denying it.
“He vowed he wouldn’t.”
“Does your fiancé have any enemies?”
Her lips twitched at the corners. “Robert is a scapegoat for the city’s ills.”
“I’m not sure what you expect me to do,” he said truthfully.
“Help me find him, Mr Wyre.”
What, help a gallows-cheating molly? She was asking too much.
“I can offer a retainer of ten pounds,” she said, her voice suddenly intense, “with full expenses. An additional ten pounds if you manage to locate Robert. I’d also ask that you accompany me to Wood’s Close, to ask the Director in person where Robert went after collecting his belongings.”
He paused for a moment. He said it as tactfully as he could. “Have you stopped to consider your fiancé might not wish to be found?”
Brilliant flecks lit her eyes. “Ten pounds, Mr Wyre, payable on acceptance of the commission.” She reached in her skirts and withdrew a banknote.
Wyre stared at it, a month’s rent practically dropping from the sky. But he wasn’t a Brockton. He wasn’t for sale. His job was to see rump-riders hanged in the public square, not to find them when they went prodigal.
“I hardly think Courthouse prosecutors are at liberty to take on private cases.”
“Please, Mr Wyre.”
“You’re asking the wrong man. There’s nothing I can do.”
She pursed her lips, then rose to her feet. “I can be found at 23 Great Windmill Street, if you change your mind.”
“I’m afraid that’s unlikely.”
She let herself out. He watched her go, the sheer back of her dress hinting now at nothing.
35. Afterclaps
His first day back at the Courthouse, and he’d slept badly. Feeling faintish, he left the apartment, his thoughts turning, as they had throughout the night, to Miss Crawford. Why in God’s name did a woman of her calibre cling to Aspinall? A man who, in terms that brought it home, fucked other men.
People disappeared all the time; according to Leighton, most had no desire to be found. Besides, Robert Aspinall had good reason to lie low. In his shoes, Wyre would do the same. He’d take the first mail coach out of the city, and not stop till he was on the Holyhead road to Ireland. Christ, it was hot as Hades. His head swimming, Wyre stopped at the next hackney stand and climbed into a dilapidated barouche. The devil with the expense.
Had he been too salty towards Miss Crawford? She was hardly responsible for her fiancé’s actions. He felt guilty at having brushed off her complaint about Brockton, when there had likely been substance to it. Would he really let her confront this asylum director alone? In all likelihood, the fellow had merely neglected to reply to her letter to spare her the torpedo touch of truth. Namely, that Aspinall had flown the coop. That he was back with his kind. But it wouldn’t hurt to have a word with him, professional to professional. Find out what really happened. Put Miss Crawford’s mind at rest, one way or the other.
And then there was the ten pounds to consider.
Wyre slipped in through
a side door, not feeling up to fielding insincere inquiries about his health. Brockton wasn’t in their shared cubbyhole, which was something. In fact, his colleague’s desk had been cleared. So he’d been given his marching orders after the Vere Street trial debacle. Good.
By mid-morning, Wyre was back in his old routine, although the backlog of molly briefs would take weeks to clear. He flicked through charge cards, witness statements, character references. One or two briefs looked reasonably promising. Odds on chance of securing convictions.
His thoughts kept returning to Miss Crawford; that slender figure, and large eyes; to that peculiar mix of forthrightness and vulnerability. Finally, he reached for a crisp sheet of paper and began to write. If she were at liberty to meet him at the Panton Street coach stand at five o’clock, he’d accompany her to Wood’s Close.
Miss Crawford’s reply arrived with the clerk’s mid-afternoon rounds.
36. Bone and Soda
The four-wheeler was a dirty, converted relic, its yellow paint picked out with waspish black. They jiggled north through tree-lined streets, districts of pots and window-boxes, past chalybeate drinking fountains, up and down paltry suburban dips and summits, London’s last houses arriving with their backs to fields, out to the city’s wheat work. A single pheasant stood stupidly among the season’s out-of-reach crop. As always, somebody was making a killing.
Miss Crawford had a red-covered octavo volume on her lap, John Donne spelled out in gilt lettering along the spine. One of those plush ten-shilling editions. Did she read any moderns? He was unprepared for the fierceness of her reply.
“Only that of one man, as yet little known. A young lord whose hand I would kiss and I’d burst into tears.”
Wyre looked blankly. He had no time for the age’s vogue for heaving couplets, preferring sprightly lyrics; he was quite content with “finny tribe” where fish were intended, with “fleecy fold” for sheep, and with “tenants of the air” for birds. It was a mystery to him why people had to contort their imaginations to think up pointless little allegories for the world’s things.
The Cunning House Page 14