Gates of Paradise

by Beryl Kingston

  ‘Your opinion does you credit,’ Mr Bowen approved. ‘Pray continue.’

  ‘Well, sir, he said the king should be damned and the people of England were like a parcel of children what would get burnt in the fire and they would be damned and when Bonaparte came, he would be master of Europe in an hour, and England could depend on it that when he set foot on English ground every Englishman would have a choice whether to have his throat cut or join the French. And he said he was a strong man and would certainly begin to cut throats. It will be cut throat for cut throat, he said, and the weakest will go to the wall.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Well, sir, he damned the King, and his country, and his subjects, and he said soldiers were all bound for slaves and all the poor people in general. And then his wife came out and she said she would fight as long as she had a drop of blood in her and Blake said, “My dear, you would not fight against France”, and she said she would fight for Bonaparte.’

  There was a hiss of indrawn breath at such a wicked utterance. The little sound tipped Blake into open fury. He sprang to his feet and roared at the soldier ‘False!’, his voice so loud in the echo chamber of the hall that several people jumped.

  The Duke of Richmond was displeased. ‘I will have order in my court,’ he boomed. ‘If you cannot contain yourself, Mr Blake, I will have you ejected.’

  The desire to fight back rose in Blake like a black tide but Mr Rose had a restraining hand on his arm and was gentling him back into his seat, sending him eye signals that he was to obey, and the moment passed.

  ‘To continue, Private Scolfield,’ Mr Bowen said. ‘How did you reply to these seditious remarks?’

  Having seen his adversary publicly rebuked the trooper puffed up like a turkey cock. ‘I remonstrated with him, sir, and said he shouldn’t be saying such things.’

  ‘Quite. And what happened next?’

  ‘Then Mrs Blake she said, “Turn him out the garden”.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Mr Blake come at me, sir, to try to grab hold of me.’

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘I prepared to defend myself, sir, as an Englishman and a soldier of the line.’

  ‘You fought him?’

  ‘I defended myself from his attack, sir.’

  ‘Quite. Was anything further said?’

  ‘Yes, sir. He went on shouting and saying dreadful things all the way to The Fox Inn.’

  It was an impressive performance and Blake could see that the jury was impressed. He looked at Mr Rose as he stood to cross-examine and wondered what he would say in his defence.

  The counsellor gave the soldier the benefit of his gentle smile. ‘You were once a sergeant, were you not?’ he asked.

  Private Scolfield was surprised and said he couldn’t see what that had to do with it. But Mr Rose persisted.

  ‘You were, were you not?’

  It was grudgingly admitted.

  ‘Would you kindly tell the court the reason why you were degraded.’

  The private was annoyed to be brought down to such a petty level, but after a long pause he admitted that it had been on account of having been a little the worse for wear on one occasion.

  ‘Drunk, you mean?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Drunk and disorderly?’

  ‘’Twas said.’

  ‘Thank you, Private Scolfield. No further questions.’

  There was a shift and a shuffle, as Private Scolfield stood down, and those who needed to cough, coughed, which gave Mr Rose the chance to wink at his client, and to whisper that they had made a good start. Then Mr Bowen called his second witness, Private Cock, who answered every question in exactly the same way as his comrade, like a red-coated echo. He had heard all the words mentioned in the charge, every single one, he’d take his oath on it.

  ‘Very well,’ Counsellor Bowen said. ‘Will you tell the court exactly what happened.’

  He’d been in the stables, the trooper said, and he’d heard a row and come out to see what it was.

  ‘And what was it?’ Counsellor Bowen prompted.

  ‘It was Mr Blake attacking Private Scolfield.’

  Counsellor Rose put his hand on Blake’s shoulder because he could feel him bristling. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Let it ride. Leave it to me.’

  ‘And did you hear what was being said?’

  Indeed he did and could repeat it, word for word, in exactly the same way as Private Scolfield had done. ‘He said, damn the king and damn his country and damn his subjects and soldiers were bound for slaves and all the poor people were slaves.’

  ‘You heard this clearly? There is no mistake in what you heard?’

  ‘Yes, sir, very clearly. There’s no mistake. We both heard it, sir.’

  This time Counsellor Bowen handed over to Counsellor Rose with a nod of triumph. Private Cock had been firm in his evidence and had not had the misfortune to be demoted.

  Counsellor Rose had to pause for a few seconds to cough into a white handkerchief, but when he spoke he was kindly and patient. ‘Let us see if we can be completely clear,’ he said. ‘You say that you heard Mr Blake say all the words on the charge. We need not rehearse them, for I am sure everybody in the court knows what they are by now. You heard them all, is that correct?’

  ‘I did, sir.’

  ‘These are the words that Private Scolfield says he heard when he was in the garden, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then, explain to me, if you will, how it was you were able to hear them too. You were in the stables at the time they were spoken, I believe, and did not come out into the street until you heard a noise. Is that correct?’

  Private Cock admitted that it was but he looked puzzled as if he knew he was being led into a trap and couldn’t see how to avoid it.

  ‘So if you were in the stables at the time, you couldn’t have heard what was being said in the garden. Is that correct?’

  Private Cock said he supposed it was and added that he must have heard the words when he was in the street.

  ‘Ah! So what you are telling us is that Mr Blake spoke these incriminating words on two separate occasions, once in the garden when they were heard by Private Scolfield and once in the street when they were heard by you?’

  The trooper was surly but said he supposed so.

  ‘We must be quite sure about this,’ Counsellor Rose said, after pausing to cough again. ‘Either you did hear them, or you did not. Supposition is not enough.’

  ‘I did hear them, sir. On my oath.’

  ‘In the street?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘But not in the garden.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘You are certain about that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘But when you began your evidence for Counsellor Bowen you were certain you had heard the accused say all the words on the charge when he was in the garden, were you not?’

  ‘I suppose so, sir.’

  ‘And now you are not so certain.’

  By this point, Private Cock was so uncertain he couldn’t answer.

  ‘Your certainty,’ Mr Rose observed, as he resumed his seat, ‘would appear to be something of a moveable feast. No further questions, Your Grace.’

  It appeared that there were no further witnesses for the prosecution either but Counsellor Rose said he had several people he wished to call and proceeded to name them – Mr Grinder, the landlord of The Fox and his wife, Mrs Grinder, Mr Cosens, the miller, Mrs Haynes, wife to the miller’s servant and her daughter, Mr Hosier, gardener to Mr Hayley and his under-gardener, William Smith, the ostler from The Fox, who was working as Mr Blake’s gardener at the time, and ‘if your Grace is agreeable’ he would begin with Mr Hayley himself, ‘a gentleman well-known to you, Your Grace.’

  The duke hoisted his red robes about him. ‘Are all these witnesses really necessary?’ he asked.

  ‘If they were not, Your Grace, I would not call them.’


  ‘Oh, very well then.’

  So Mr Hayley was called and stepped into the witness box, tall and imposing in his fine greatcoat with a bandage dramatic round his left temple and identified himself, with a modest smile, as William Hayley Esquire, the celebrated poet. He was a long-standing friend and colleague of the accused, he said, and knew him to be a man of singular honour, one of the foremost engravers in the land and an artist, hard-working, loyal in his friendships, admirable to a degree.

  ‘Would you say he is a quarrelsome man?’ Mr Rose asked.

  The answer was forthright. ‘No, sir. Not in the least. He is an artist and a man of peace.’

  ‘Would you say he is a patriotic man?’

  ‘Entirely so, sir. Oh, indubitably. I would not have brought him into this part of the country and given him encouragement and employed him in my house, had I conceived it possible that he could have uttered those abominable sentiments.’

  Mr Bowen said he had no questions to ask the celebrated poet, so Mr William Hayley took his greatcoat and bandage back to the witness benches and was replaced by the bundle of clothes that contained William the ostler.

  He was so nervous he had to clear his throat three times before he could acknowledge his name and occupation. But as Mr Rose eased him into his story he took heart and gradually spoke more confidently. He’d been working in Mr Blake’s garden, he said, when Private Scolfield came in with a message. He’d invited him in ‘more’s the pity, for I wouldn’t have, if I’d know’d then what I knows now’.

  ‘Of course,’ Mr Rose understood. ‘Then Mr Blake came out into the garden. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘He asked Private Scolfield what he was a-doing in the garden, an’ Private Scolfield he said he was a soldier of the king an’ could go where he pleased. He was a bit saucy like.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Mr Blake told him to get out.’

  ‘Just that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You didn’t hear Mr Blake say anything else?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Not damn the King. Or damn the country. Or damn his subjects.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Would you kindly estimate the size of the garden for the court.’

  ‘’Tis about ten yards square, sir, give or take.’

  ‘And was it a blustery day? Was there a wind blowing?’

  ‘No, sir. ’Twas a fine clear day, very still.’

  ‘So if anything else had been said by either of these men, you would have heard it?’

  ‘Yes, sir. But I didn’t, sir, on account of nothin’ else was said.’

  Counsellor Bowen took his time to stand for his cross-examination, hoisting his robes about him and fixing the ostler with the sternest look the young man had ever seen.

  ‘Come now, Mr Smith,’ he said. ‘We must discover if your memory is truly as faulty as would appear.’

  The ostler didn’t answer.

  ‘Do you seriously expect me to believe that not one angry word was uttered when Mr Blake turned Private Scolfield out of the garden?’

  ‘They was both angry, sir.’

  ‘So there was a deal of shouting?’

  ‘Yes, sir, there was. A great deal a’ shoutin’.’

  ‘A great deal of shouting,’ the counsellor repeated thoughtfully. ‘Yet you maintain that you heard every word that was uttered.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I did.’

  ‘I put it to you, sir, that in the heat and noise of the quarrel you misheard what was said.’

  William was confused and said he s’pposed ‘twere possible.

  ‘I put it to you, sir, that you have forgotten half of what was said, or chosen to forget it. It is now six months since the incident in question and memories, as we all know, have a tendency to fade.’

  William s’pposed that were possible too.

  ‘In short, you could have heard all the words of the charge, could you not, and subsequently forgotten them.’

  The pain on William’s face was plain for everyone to see. He knew he was being manipulated and that he ought to fight against it but the knowledge was making his brain spin and he couldn’t think what to say. He looked across at Mr Rose, but he was coughing again and not looking at anybody. He looked at his friends and neighbours, and particularly at Johnnie, who was sitting stock still with concern, and Betsy who was biting her lip. Then he noticed that Johnnie was mouthing something and concentrated hard to see what it was. ‘Say no.’ Was that it? The duke turned his head to scowl in disapproval but Johnnie ignored him and signalled again. ‘Say no. Say no.’ And at that, William’s brain unlocked itself and he could think and speak.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, sir, that ent the way of it. I knows what I heard right enough an’ them words what he’s charged with was not spoke, leastways not in the garden they weren’t. I give ’ee my word on it. If they had been I’d’ve heard ’em.’

  He was so clear and so firm about it that Counsellor Bowen decided he had no further questions. So Mr Rose called his next witness. This time it was Mrs Haynes, who adjusted her Mary Wollstonecraft hat and strode to the stand as if she was off to the wars.

  She had come out of her house when she heard the noise, she said, and had seen Mr Blake propelling the trooper along the road by his arms, ‘as if he was pushing a wheelbarrow’. She had watched as the two men struggled, seen them parted by Mr Grinder and Mr Cosens and seen Private Cock arrive. She had heard every word that was said and was quite certain that Mr Blake had not said any of the words he was charged with saying.

  ‘Not a one, sir,’ she said, ‘an’ I was as close to him an’ Private Scolfield as I am to you. I’ve heard a lot of quarrels in my time, sir, an’ ’tis my experience that when people quarrel they always charge each other with some offence, and repeat it to anyone around, over an’ over, an’ this time they never said a word about this offence, neither to one another nor to us, so my opinion of it is that it was all made up in the stable afterwards, as a way of gettin’ revenge.’

  When Mr Bowen stood to cross-examine her she squared her shoulders like a prize-fighter. ‘No, sir,’ she said. ‘I did not hear any of the words you mention, an’ before you asks me I’ll tell you I have a very good memory and very good hearing. If they had been said, I’d’ve heard ’em, an’ if I’d heard ’em I’d’ve remembered ’em.’

  It was such a spirited answer that her friends on the witness benches burst into a cheer and even Mr Blake managed a smile and allowed himself the first faint hope that he might be acquitted.

  The duke was very annoyed. ‘You will refrain from applause,’ he told them sternly. ‘This is a court of law not a theatre.’

  But she had made her stand and now all that was necessary was for the other witnesses to follow her lead, which they did, one after the other. Mr Grinder described how he’d pulled Private Scolfield away from Mr Blake and persuaded him to go into the inn, Mr Cosens remembered that Private Scolfield had threatened to punch Mr Blake’s eyes out, Mrs Grinder said she’d thought they were in for a nasty fight and was glad when her husband intervened, Mr Hosier described the way Mr Blake had twisted the trooper’s arms behind his back so that he ‘couldn’t punch no one and had to walk whether he would or no’, Betsy volunteered that Mr Blake had never offered violence to anyone and was only trying to protect himself and Mr Hosier said he’d heard Private Scolfield vow to be revenged on Mr Blake. And none of them had heard a single word on the charge and said so forcefully.

  The last man to take the stand was Johnnie Boniface, who stood in the box like an avenging angel, fiery sword in hand, his shock of fair hair bright in the candlelight.

  He gave his name, said that he was the under-gardener at Turret House and told the court that, like all the others, he had come out into the street to see what all the row was about and that he hadn’t heard any of the words on the charge being spoken.

  ‘Not one?’ Cou
nsellor Rose asked, after coughing a little.

  ‘No, sir. Not one.’

  ‘When Private Cock arrived,’ the Counsellor prompted, ‘you went to speak to him, did you not.’

  ‘I did, sir. I asked him if his comrade was drunk.’

  ‘And was he, in your opinion?’

  ‘He smelt drunk, sir, an’ he was spoiling for a fight. He kept saying he’d punch Mr Blake’s eyes out. That was really all I did hear him saying, that an’ a lot a’ swearing – apart from when he left us.’

  ‘And what did he say then?’

  ‘He said, “I’ll be revenged on you, damn your eyes. You just wait an’ see if I don’t”.’ And he turned to glance at the jury to see what impact that was having on them. Oh, what power there was in outwitting a pair of villains in a court of law!

  ‘And then,’ Counsellor Rose prompted again, ‘he went into the stables with his comrade.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Mr Rose smiled at his client. The defence was proved. ‘No further questions my lord.’

  Mr Bowen seemed disgruntled as he rose to sum up. He confined himself to praising the good offices of the military in general, ‘here to protect us in our hour of need’ and of Privates Scolfield and Cock in particular, ‘fine men who are rightly concerned when seditious sentiments are uttered in their presence and have brought this charge to ensure that such sentiments are never uttered again.’ ‘I call upon you,’ he said addressing the jury directly, ‘to do your patriotic duty and to find this seditious person guilty as charged.’

  Counsellor Rose, on the other hand was gently persuasive, and sounded frail after the rumbustious tone of his opponent, pausing from time to time to cough into his white handkerchief. ‘Here then, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘is a charge attended with circumstances of the most extraordinary nature. A man, we have been told, comes out of his house for the purpose of addressing a malignant and unintelligible discourse to those who are most likely to injure him for it. For it has been said under oath that he came out into the garden and, without any provocation, without one word being spoken on either side, began to utter the seditious expressions with which he is being charged. This, if you believe the evidence given by the two troopers, is what you must also believe. On the other hand, if you believe the evidence of Mr Blake’s neighbours, you will believe that not one word on the charge was actually said. Scolfield confines himself to the words in the garden, the other says they were uttered before the public house. If they were spoken in the garden, the ostler must have heard them – but he has said on oath that he did not – if they were uttered before the public house, the other witnesses must have heard them – and they swear on oath that they did not. In short, the testimony of these soldiers…’