Andrew Pepper - The Last Days of Newgate

The more he was seen to be doing, and the more the Runners were seen to be involved with the investigation, the harder it would be for Peel to push them aside.

When he had finished, Peel thanked Fox for all the fine work that had been done, and in his forthright way said that, as someone who remained integral to the business of policing the city, Sir Richard, when it came to the preservation of public order, was still very much needed for his expertise.

No one in the room could have missed the implication behind what he was saying.

Fox seemed appalled. ‘With all due respect, Home Secretary, as the events today in Hyde Park demonstrated, there is no other organisation or group of men currently available to perform such a task, except of course the armed forces.’

‘At present, yes, you’re quite right.’ Peel regarded Fox with amusement.

‘So it’s not a gift you’re bestowing on us, Home Secretary, this burden of policing the city.’

‘It is a duty I’m asking you to perform.’

‘Asking or commanding?’ Fox said, like a bad-tempered card player, unable to see he was compelling Peel to show his hand.

Peel just smiled. ‘This is the problem with having to make decisions within a system comprising different and sometimes competing authorities. As a military man, the duke would say the same thing. Can you imagine what would happen on a battlefield if there were two generals on the same side, each employing a different strategy? It’s why I intend to bring all aspects of policing in London under one single authority, to be established under the direct control of this office.’

In that moment, whether Fox realised it or not, Peel had driven a nail into the coffin of the Bow Street organisation.

Fox tried to gather his thoughts. ‘But that still leaves the pressing question of how to proceed with this particular investigation.’

Peel regarded him with amusement. ‘In what sense?’

‘Well, as de facto head of policing in the capital. .’

‘Nominal head of policing,’ Peel said, as though clearing up a minor quibble. ‘As of tonight, the investigation into the St Giles murders will be handed over to a team assembled under the authority of this office, to be led by our friend Charles Hume. Charles distinguished himself serving under the duke at Waterloo and if, as expected, the new bill is passed, I intend to ask him to be one of two commissioners responsible for overseeing the new force. The investigation will be run from what I hope will become the headquarters of the new force at number four Whitehall Place. The adjoining watch house that backs on to Great Scotland Yard will house his team while number four is being prepared. Of course, Charles has my full authority in all matters regarding the investigation. I hope you will all work closely with him to ensure that we find whoever perpetrated this abominable act before the mob rears its ugly head and before a drop of Catholic blood is spilled.’

Pyke was impressed with the ruthlessness with which Peel had dealt with Fox.

But Sir Richard was not quite beaten. ‘Pardon me, Home Secretary, for bringing up a matter so trifling as the law, but will the arrangements you propose earn the approval of the House?’

Peel wasn’t even slightly thrown by the question. He explained that it was for precisely this reason that he’d invited Sir Henry and William Gregson to the meeting. Perhaps he might hand over to Gregson to explain where the government stood from a legal standpoint? Gregson ran through some preliminary details and stated that so long as any authority with a mandate relating to policing functioned under the guidance of a sitting magistrate appointed under the terms of the 1792 Middlesex Justices Act, it had the full sanction of the law.

Fox sank back into his chair, folded his arms and said nothing. Pyke made a guess that the ‘sitting magistrate’ selected by Peel and Gregson would be Brownlow Vines.

Behind them, Pyke could still feel the intimidating presence of the anonymous heavy-set man.

‘Now that’s been taken care of,’ Peel said, moving swiftly on, ‘and since all of us here share some kind of interest in these terrible murders, perhaps we can direct our attention to possible avenues of enquiry, so that Charles can properly proceed with the investigation.’ He looked across at Hardwick and said, ‘I believe Mr Hardwick here has some ideas he’d like to share with us.’

Whereas Peel had delivered his address from the comfort of his chair, Hardwick rose to his feet and turned to face the group, as though about to give a lecture. He was a weedy man, a bookish type who looked as though he had been bullied at school and had never recovered from the experience. In Pyke’s view, although this type might be successful in their adult life, they always remembered their humiliation at the hands of others and, as a result, set out to wield their intellect like a weapon. His hair had been oiled and slicked back and his face, even without powder, was so wan that he seemed almost transparent. It took him five minutes to outline his own credentials.

Pyke yawned loudly and did not bother to cover his mouth.

‘In recent years,’ Hardwick explained, ‘psychiatrists and criminologists have begun to devote their attention to a seemingly new phenomenon: examples of extreme violence usually enacted within domestic settings and displaying cruel and unusual properties that do not have a clear-cut explanation. We have called such a condition “homicidal monomania”. Let me give you an example. A man, let’s call him Edwards, without any record of violence or history of insanity, attacks a young child with a hammer for no ostensible reason. Why? Is this a passing outburst or a permanent state? And are both of these states mutually exclusive? At present the intervention of psychiatry into the realm of the law is only partial and questions such as these can only be answered provisionally, but having briefly looked over the details of this particular case, I believe it to be another example of homicidal monomania. As such, I would suggest that we are looking for a deeply disturbed man, not necessarily with a history of insanity in his family but one who displays, I am afraid to say, a pathology of the monstrous.’

Hardwick looked at his audience, expectant and pleased with himself.

Without raising his hand, Pyke said, ‘I’d imagine that — how did you put it — “the intervention of psychiatry into the law” will be personally beneficial to you. It’ll give you patients and, of course, status.’

Hardwick frowned, as though he had not understood the question. ‘I’m sorry? You are. .?’

‘I mean, I can see how you might personally benefit from inventing a condition such as — how did you phrase it? — “homicidal monomania”. You say something exists, so it exists.

And because it exists, it needs to be treated. And who can treat it but you? It’s like finding or, in your case, inventing a disease that only you have the power to cure. I’m impressed by the effrontery of the scheme, if not by its scientific foundations.’

The murmurs around the room were, he suspected, of consternation at his impudence, and Pyke wondered whether he had overplayed his hand.

‘And what do you know of science, Mr. .?’ Hardwick’s face was as black as thunder.

‘Pyke will do.’

‘What I am alluding to, and what a lesser mind such as your own might not have grasped, is that such ideas inevitably have much wider applications, Mr Pyke. At the heart of modern psychiatry and criminology is a belief that we have the power to treat and transform human behaviour. I’m sure if you had seen the fine work being undertaken by Philippe Pinel in France and Samuel Tuke in York in bringing to bear a moral regime on deviant behaviour, then you would not be so dismissive of the role psychiatry can play in bringing order to our world.’ Peel nodded his head and Hardwick smiled.