Bruce Alexander - Murder in Grub Street

“So I was given to understand by this young man who presented the papers for my release and accompanied me here.

Pointing to me, he said in surprise, “He was your escort here?’

“Yes, sir, I was,” said I, unbidden.

“Well,” said he to me, “you may tell Sir John he has made his point.” Then to Dr. Johnson: “And what brings you here? I had thought you had better things to do than appear at such occasions as this.”

“My Lord,” said Dr. Johnson, “I am come to vouch for this man, John Clayton, if that be necessary, to assure you of his poetic talent, and of his ability to earn with it. He has told me he has fair copies of all the works which were to comprise his second volume of verse. A reputable publisher has agreed to bring it out at terms favorable to him. It is likely to sell better than his first book, which was a considerable financial success … to the publisher, the late Mr. Crabb.”

“I see. Tell me, Mr. Clayton, where is this fair copy of your manuscript?”

“Why, sir, it is back in Somerset.”

“Then do me a great favor and post it to the publisher. In other words, Mr. Clayton, go there and stay there. We have quite enough on our hands trying those who, like most of us, can claim but a single nature. For those, such as you-and I accept your account in this-who are cursed with more than one, the law is not prepared to deal. I want no such difficulties ever put before me or my other judges. Am I clear in this?”

What was most clear was that Mr. Clayton found it hard to accept this provision. He hesitated. “Well … I …”

Dr. Johnson stepped forward. “My Lord,” said he, “while what you propose may be difficult for Mr. Clayton, it may be the best medicine for him as a poet. I have counseled him myself to remain in the country, where he derives his inspiration and lives more comfortably on less. ‘Leave London to the hacks,’ said I to him. However, even for a country poet, it may be necessary to make trips to London in order to see his works through the press and handle incidental matters regarding their publication.”

“I understand and accept that, Dr. Johnson, just so long as Mr. Clayton continues to reside well outside London and his visits to the city are simply that-visits.”

Then to Mr. Clayton: “In order to ease this burden I put on you, I offer you this, sir — ” And from his large coat pocket he brought a small pouch which clinked of silver when he dropped it on the table. “With the amount inside, I hope to compensate you in small measure for the time you spent in Bedlam and the Fleet Prison. There is sufficient to buy you a new suit of clothes, which you badly need, and to pay your coach fare back home. I ask you to sign no paper agreeing to the condition I have set forth, for no such paper would be valid; I only urge you to take this amount, for in doing so you will be giving your assurance to remain in residence away from this city. Is it agreed?”

John Clayton nodded. He stepped forth and took the pouch from its place on the desk.

“You give your word as a gentleman, Mr. Clayton?”

“I do, my Lord.”

“Let me have your hand on it.”

They shook hands solemnly. The door opened as if by magic, and the butler appeared to show us out.

And there on the street, John Clayton said aloud to himself, rather than to us, his listeners: “That is the first time ever in my life I was called a gentleman — and then it came from the Lord Chief Justice himself.”

The Brethren of the Spirit were dealt with far more harshly by the Lord Chief Justice. Those captured at Boyer’s, as well as the wounded man apprehended at the house in Half Moon Passage, were condemned to hang; the single exception was made for Elijah Biggie, also known as Brother Elijah, who gave testimony against the rest, and for it was given twenty years’ transportation to the colony of Virginia. A similar sentence of transportation was handed down for the five in connection with the hanging death of Isham Henry. They were sent on the same ship with Brother Elijah, who, midway on the journey, was said to have hanged himself in remorse for his betrayal of his fellow Brethren.

John Clayton kept his word and remained at home in Somerset. His second volume of verse was a great success when it was brought out by Boyer and Nicholson, due in part to the unwelcome celebrity that was thrust upon him by his arrest, hospitalization, and imprisonment in what would be known ever after as the Grub Street massacre. He earned sufficient on that book alone to marry and buy a cottage, where he continued to write. The fact that his succeeding books were not near so popular — nor, according to Dr. Johnson, as good — led him to drink. Petrus reappeared on a few occasions, which led to further stays in the local mad hospital, not all of them as short as the first one. Yet he continued to write, whether in or out of it, and he assured Dr. Johnson (by letter) that the work at which he was then engaged would be his greatest.

Sir John Fielding and Katherine Durham were married in a quiet ceremony at a chapel in St. Paul’s Covent Garden in the month of September. Tongues wagged at the short space of time that had elapsed since his first wife’s death. Yet Sir John cared nothing for the wagging of tongues; and after a brief wedding trip to Bath, the two, now man and wife, set to work on a charity that would occupy them for years to come, the Magdalene Home for Penitent Prostitutes.