Bruce Alexander - An Experiment in Treason

“Well and good, I shall question this distinguished personage, but it will be at my own time and in my own way.”

“Yes, yes, do it your own way, by all means. Do it any way you choose.”

From the sly expression that lingered upon Sir John’s face following this concession, I was fair certain that he had something planned. Yet what that something would be, I could not possibly, at this point, have divined.

“And now, Sir John, since I have twice routed you from your bed at an ungodly hour, let me at least see you back to Bow Street in my coach — unless you’d prefer to go afoot …”

“By no means,” said Sir John. “Certainly I accept your offer. There remains something I should like to discuss with you. We could do so along the way.”

“Excellent, ” said Lord Mansfield, rising from his chair. “Shall we then be off?”

Thus we went, Sir John at my elbow and Lord Mansfield leading the way. The butler was nowhere in sight until we arrived at the door to the street, and then did he pop out from a large closet and offer his master a cloak to wear against the morning chill. He assisted him in donning the garment, and then opened the door for us all. As I passed him, our eyes met, and he seemed to look upon me with a sort of benevolent amusement. I knew not if this were preferable to his unusual air of cold, aloof superiority. I decided that I should have to consider the matter.

Then up and into the coach, assisted by the footman. To be rich, I decided, was to be thought incapable of performing such mundane acts without help. Perhaps that was why so many of the wealthy behaved as children: They were treated as such.

We were well on our way when Lord Mansfield, who had been running his hand idly over the upholstery of his seat, did suddenly sit erect and take notice of what he had encountered there.

“Good God, ” said he, “what is this stuff? “

He raised his finger with bits of white upon the tip, for closer inspection. “They look like …” He carefully tasted a few of the white bits. “Why, they are! They’re bread crumbs. Now, who would be eating here in the coach? I’ll wager it’s that slovenly driver, Carling. That fellow is ever eating — ever and anywhere! Well, he shall hear from me about this. Indeed.”

I was sorely embarrassed on behalf of Sir John. He, it was, who had spread the crumbs of soda bread where Lord Mansfield now sat. That I knew full well. What could I do or say to cover his crude misstep? Yet a glance in his direction told me there was no hope of covering up anything. He was just beginning to snicker, and well did I know that he would now progress from snicker to chuckle, and from chuckle to guffaw. And so it went precisely. In less than a minute, he was laughing so loudly and boisterously that the small space within the coach wherein we sat could scarce contain the noise of it.

“Whatever is the matter with you. Sir John?” said Lord Mansfield in alarm. Then did there pass a full minute in which the customarily dignified magistrate sought to bring himself under control. He did his best. Yet even so, there were a few times in which he lost himself utterly to laughter, and was forced to begin anew.

“I would only say to you, my lord” — and here he halted briefly, one last time lest he be overcome again with laughter — “I would say to you that your man Carling is not the culprit, but rather ‘twas I, the slovenly magistrate, who spread crumbs all over the seat. So rushed was I to attend your meeting that I fear it was necessary for me to breakfast in your coach. I think, however, that I did no permanent damage.”

Lord Mansfield, somewhat at a loss, cleared his throat, hemmed and hawed a bit, than said at last, “Yes … well … I’m sure no damage was done, none at all. Sorry to have made such demands upon you, but I’ve a long day in court today, and the sooner I get to it …”

“The sooner you’ll be done, of course, ” said Sir John.

An uneasy silence fell inside the coach. Oddly, it was Lord Mansfield, rather than Sir John, who showed signs of embarrassment. Perhaps a change of subject was in order.

“You said, Sir John, that there was something more you wished to discuss.”

“What? Oh yes, there is. I was wondering if you yourself are at all familiar with the contents of these missing letters.”

“Only in a general way.”

“Meaning … what?”

“Well, meaning that they have to do with the American colonies and naught to do with Lord Hillsborough’s nasty pursuits.”

“It has been suggested to me that since the letters no doubt concern the talk of rebellion in the American colonies, and His Majesty’s government is so eager to have them back, they might well have to do with a plan to silence the talk of rebellion by resort to legal means.”

“By what plan is that?” asked the Lord Chief Justice.

“By trying a few of the leaders on charges of sedition, or even treason. Have you heard of any such plan? Perhaps been consulted on how such might be made to work?”

Lord Mansfield gave that a bit of thought before replying in a well-considered manner. “Nooo, ‘ said he, “I can’t say that I have been consulted on any plan of that sort. I must say, however, that it is rather a good idea. There d be nothing like a good treason trial followed by a public execution to still those voices of contention.”

“The reason I ask,” Sir John persisted, “is that the suggestion ‘in the strongest terms possible’ that I focus my investigation upon this man, Franklin, would seem to fit nicely into such a plan.”

“Yes, wouldn’t it.”

“Benjamin Franklin may not be as noisy as Samuel Adams and his faction in that place — what is it called?”

“Massachusetts,” said I quickly.

“Yes,” said Sir John. “Thank-you, Jeremy. Franklin may not be as noisy as some, but he’s right here in London — most of the time. Ever so handy.”

Alas, his irony was lost upon the Lord Chief Justice, who continued to appraise the hypothesis in muttered comments to himself. At last, he looked to Sir John and spoke out in a manner most eager.

“Tell me, sir, who was it made the suggestion to you? I should like to tell him what I think of his plan.”

“You already have.”

“Already have? What do you mean? “

“Jeremy here offered it simply as an hypothesis — a mere guess — as to what the letters might contain. And in so doing, he gave me a most unpleasant fright.”

“Fright? I don’t understand you, Sir John. But in truth, I often don’t.”

“Nowyou have frightened me even more.”

“But how?”

“By taking it all with the utmost seriousness, by thinking it rather a good idea.”

At that, Lord Mansfield simply growled and said no more. The rest of our journey passed in silence. When it ended in Bow Street, he offered no more than a curt good-bye.

Once inside. Sir John swept down the long hall, as I trailed in his wake. He called out a loud hello to Mr. Marsden and asked how the docket looked that day.

“Barring a riot between now and noon,” said the court clerk, “it looks to be a light day.”

“Excellent, Mr. Marsden, excellent. I’ve a few things to attend to before court time.” And, over his shoulder, to me: “Come along, Jeremy. I must dictate a couple of letters, and then you must deliver them.”

Between the writing of the letters and their delivery, the rest of the morning was consumed — and a bit of the afternoon, as well. The letter to Samuel Johnson required special pains, for, in effect. Sir John asked in it that the great man cancel any and all plans that he may have made for tomorrow evening and come instead to a small dinner party that he was giving for Benjamin Franklin. Did Franklin know of this? No, he did not. In fact. Sir John was depending upon Mr. Johnson to persuade Franklin to come along to the party. He might tell him that “something special” had been planned for him, and indeed it had been. Sir John asked for Mr. Johnson’s support in this, and his trust, as well. He concluded the letter: “I would not presume upon our acquaintance in this manner if I felt there were any other way of assembling the players at this rather serious game. You know Franklin, I do not; therefore I must depend upon you. For your part, you may depend upon this: though Franklin may have some uneasy moments during our table talk, he would find it far more uncomfortable if I were to handle this in any other way.” This was then followed by the usual florid close.