Today's case at the Old Bailey is about a simple theft, of an apron, in 1745. What got my attention first was the name of the supposed victim of the crime - Hannah Herring. Really. You can't make this stuff up - or if you do, I can just see some snarky reviewer complaining.
Anyway, it seems Hannah and her aunt, who was pregnant, were just ambling down the street when Thomas Carter approached them. According to Hannah, he "gave her (the pregnant aunt) some ill language, and then he tore my apron off my sides, and d - d me, and carried the apron away with him; then I cried out murder and thieves, and some people came to my assistance."
She claims that after Thomas was apprehended, "He fell down on his knees, and asked pardon."
According to the aunt, Thomas approached them and "called me an imposturous B - h - I suppose it was, because I told him I was with child, and desired he would not meddle with me; then he laid hold of Hannah Herring , and she cried out, and the three men took him, and brought him back."
"Imposturous" means deceitful. I had to look it up and once again, I was impressed by the language people used in everyday speech back in the day.
Thomas's defence? "When I came up to her, I said, are not you a preposterous creature? and I went to kiss them, but I did not take the apron."
The constable produces the apron, but he doesn't say where it was found, a rather amazing lack of information, considering the charge and the evidence.
Three character witnesses are brought forward to testify to Thomas's honest reputation and we discover Thomas is a "dealer in hair" and sells it to a wigmaker.
Thomas was acquitted.
A few points this writer ponders about this case and testimony:
Whatever actually happened, the women clearly had a beef with Thomas Carter. What exactly was their relationship before the apparent apron-snatching? Specifically, I'd like to know about Thomas's relationship with the pregnant aunt.
I note the similarity of "imposturous" and "preposterous." Preposterous means absurd, so that's not exactly flattering, either. I don't think Thomas thought much of the aunt.
Hannah herself says she shouted "murder" after the alleged assault. That's a bit over the top, isn't it? She also claims he went down on his knees and begged pardon, although nobody else mentions this. Hannah sounds like a bit of a drama queen to me, and I think I'd be a loathe to convict a man (especially considering the severe penalties at this time) on her testimony. Although the constable produces the apron in question, Hannah has decided to press charges. Why? What does she hope to gain, except to see Thomas punished?
Thomas says he was going to kiss them. Why? As a simple greeting, or was there something else going on, especially if he was angry? Was he trying to kiss them against their will? Even based on his own testimony, he apparently said something like, "You're an absurd creature. Now give us a kiss." I wouldn't be impressed either, if I were Hannah and her aunt.
Where does a "dealer in hair" get the hair?
Although I have a lot of questions about the relationship between the accused and the accusors, I tend to side with the jury, in part because Hannah seemed to be a melodramatic witness and it's very much in doubt as to whether or not he absconded with the apron.
That said, I'd love to know what this was really all about, because I don't think it was about an apron.
Today's case concerns a man, one Matthias Fream or Frame, who's charged with perverting justice for helping his wife escape custody and also with grand larceny for stealing the constable's hat.
Mrs. Fream was charged with shoplifting, along with another woman. They were being taken from location to another in the custody of the constable when "the Prisoner and eight or nine more attacked us, broke the Coach-Doors to pieces, and rescued the Woman."
(I find the use of the word "rescued" interesting, since these are court documents.)
Not only did they free the women from custody, Fream took the constable's hat that had been knocked off his head.
Because the accused didn't have legal counsel until the Prisoner's Counsel Act of 1836, Fream himself cross-examines the constable and asks only one question:
"How can you be sure that I took it when several others were there?"
According to the constable, Fream was "the last Man of the Mob: The rest were gone a little before when he took my Hat up" and he knew Fream because he'd visited his wife while she was in custody.
Fream was found guilty and sentenced to transportation.
His wife, however, was acquitted.
What this case offers, I think, is a good set-up for a reunion romance - the husband attempts to save his unjustly accused wife and he winds up transported for a number of years. Then he comes home and finds...what?
Does she still love him? What's happened to her in the meantime? Does she understand why he did what he did? Does she think he was a fool to interfere? Has he changed so much she won't recognize him, or have anything more to do with him?
What if she's got an interfering, overbearing family who didn't want her to marry him in the first place? What if the other woman charged was a friend who's always had a thing for her husband? They were transported together - what's the wife to think?
Has the husband changed? What does she think of his ill-fated attempt at rescue?
Will they be able to get back together? Will it work? How do the events of the intervening years influence their relationship?
Yep, this could make for a very interesting story.
Do you know what a higler is? Neither did I. Apparently, it's basically a peddler.
In today's case at Old Bailey Online, Elizabeth Howard is charged with stealing from the higler Joseph Reeves.
Seems good ol' Joe was out trying to make a buck and met Lizzie standing in the doorway of a dram-shop (basically, a bar). They strike up a conversation, go inside and he buys her a drink. A lot of drink: a quartern of gin, which is a fourth of a pint or about 2 ounces, and then a pint of "hot." I tried googling this - you can imagine what I got and it wasn't drinks, so I'm going to assume it's hot rum punch. Joe doesn't mention if he had any drinks.
They then go into a room where, Joe says, "we stood pretty close together." Nice try, Joe, but I suspect they were doing more than standing.
Joe then realizes his pocket has been picked after she "whipp'd out of the House." I confess I was surprised by that verb. I'd have thought that a fairly modern usage.
Joe doesn't know anybody there but somehow or other (it's not explained) he meets the constable, identified here only by the wonderful name "Bunch", who gets him to swear out a warrant for the alleged thief. They go back to the dram-shop. The landlady of the dram-shop claims she doesn't know Lizzie.
Bunch then threatens to bring the landlady before the judge (on what charge? Accessory, I suppose.) and lo and behold, it turns out the landlady is Lizzie's sister.
They find Lizzie. Bunch demands to know "how she could be guilty of so vile a Thing." Lizzie replies that "she had but 9 s. of the Man's Money; and that was given her for Favours."
So it was a transaction of a certain nature, according to Lizzie, who also kept her money "stuck together with Yolks of Eggs in her Pocket."
What is up with that??? I suppose it would keep it from clinking or making any noise....
Then somebody named Davis testifies, and pretty incoherently, although it's quite possible that some of this was simply left out: "I have known the Prisoner these six Months, and better, and never have seen any Ill by her, but I have heard. - She has a very ill Character here, but I can give her none."
He's known Lizzie 6 months, doesn't know anything bad about her, but he's heard something. She's portrayed in a bad light in the court, and he can't give her a better character? Is that what he's trying to say?
Whatever it was, something about the evidence didn't add up for the jury, because Lizzie gets acquitted.
So what, of this, would I use in a book?
I love the name "Bunch." I think it's great for a secondary character.
You've got the two sisters, one running a bar, the other presumably working as a hooker and/or a thief. What if Lizzie's Sister had a different kind of business, something a bit more respectable, like say a dressmaking shop, and then her sister gets accused of theft and/or prostitution? What if Lizzie was innocent and she thought Joe loved her? What if she's guilty? Do you want the conflict inherent in a dysfunctional family? Then what if she's guilty and doesn't care if that causes problems for her sister?
What if Joe thought Lizzie loved him and then discovered she was only out to rob him? What if that money was all he had and he thought they were going to be married?
What if he was drunk? What if Lizzie purposefully tricked him to get his money? How would Joe feel if she was acquitted?
What if Lizzie and Joe really did just stand close together? What if she was trying to hold him up before he passed out and he was robbed by somebody else but thinks it was her? Or there wasn't any theft at all and he spent all his money or his brother's money or his father's money on booze and accuses her rather than reveal the truth? Could he be the hero if this is what happened?
The accusation could be at the start of the book, the inciting incident, or it could come later on, creating a pivotal moment in the relationship. I think with this story, I'd go with having this be at the start. It's got lots of potential for conflict and misunderstanding, family dysfunction, and even humor (Bunch and Davis' kinda wacky testimony). What really happens between Joe and Lizzie in the other room would depend on the sort of romance you were writing, from just standing there to...well, you can imagine. In fact, the tone and the actual activity of that encounter could pretty much decide just where in the romance spectrum your book would fall.
Today from Old Bailey Online:
John Warner was charged with stealing a great coat and jacket that a fisherman, William King, had been using as a blanket and pillow respectively as he slept in his boat.
Bill didn't realize they'd been taken until his brother woke him up and told him. The brother also "called out... stop thief! saying, he'd give any body a shilling to stop that man, for he had ran away with his brother's cloaths."
John was taken after "running over the vessels" (presumably from boat to boat, which is a great, dramatic visual), along with a man named William Godfrey, who testifies that John said, "it was the first time he ever had done such a thing."
John's explanation when he's first taken? he claims "he was bedeviled." (possessed)
John's testimony in court: "I was going to sea, or I had not taken them."
Which I interpret as, I was about to sail and I needed the clothes.
Not much of a defense there, Johnny!
Verdict? No surprise. Guilty. Sentence: transportation for 7 years.
I have no idea what happened to William Godfrey, which makes me think that, once again, he wasn't charged because he testified against John. Which really makes one wonder whether it was a case of who turned first that determined many, many fates.
A couple of interesting seedlings here.
First you've got the victim, sleeping so deeply that he doesn't wake up when somebody's stealing the jacket cushioning his head. Was he bone tired, or passed out? If he was passed out, would he have bothered to take off his coat and use it as a blanket or just laid down as he was?
The brother "called out in his smack" which I think might be smock, which could be his nightshirt. If so, that makes me think he was sleeping in the boat, too, which suggests a larger vessel, which means Bill King's probably sleeping on the deck.
The more I think about it, the more I think Billy was a few sheets to the wind.
So along comes John Warner and his "friend" Bill Godfrey. John's about to sail. Let's say it's a chilly night. He hasn't got a decent coat. He's shivering, he's miserable -- maybe he really doesn't want to sail. Why is he going? Is he a fisherman or...getting out the heck out of Dodge?
He does something he's never done before, or so he claims -- something comes over him and he steals the clothes, with the result that he gets a voyage, all right, but not the one he planned.
Maybe Johnny was a little sloshed himself. Or maybe just cold and desperate. Or maybe, if this is a paranormal story, he really is possessed. What if the "possessor" wants him arrested and transported -- punished. What if Johnny's flight has something to do with the reason the possessor wants him punished?
Or maybe the transportation, which seems like a disaster, is really for Johnny's benefit? What if he'd have been killed or murdered if he'd gone on that other voyage? What if he finds love and prosperity in the New World? Or what if his transportation was necessary for history as we know it to unfold? If he hadn't gone to America, it would have had dire consequences for the future.
One little word ("bedeviled") and I'm concocting a paranormal -- and that's not even my particular genre. The Old Bailey transcripts really are like a (Valentine's) box of chocolates....
I laughed while reading the case on Old Bailey Online today, but not because of the crime itself, which was another theft. It was the snide opinion of the court stenographer that crept into the account.
Charles Dickens worked as a court stenographer. No wonder he wrote such colorful characters, especially the thieves and pickpockets. I bet he saw plenty of real Artful Dodgers in his day.
Now to today's case:
Samuel Cobb and John Ryley were charged with stealing two pewter gallon pots from a wine merchant. The evidence against them comes via their former partner-in-crime, John Brown, who escapes being charged by turning "evidence," or testifying against them. He says that Ryley was the look-out, Cobb the one who took the pots, which were hidden behind a pump before they went back intending to take the money-box. But by that time, the theft had been discovered, so they took the pots and ran.
Brown got paid off and went his own way. There was another man in cahoots with them, Moses Holloway, but he doesn't get charged, presumably because he turned evidence in another case of theft regarding some tea.
Cobb declares that they shouldn't listen to Brown, who's been twice transported (!!) under a different name.
Four people then testify as to Cobb's character -- that he's one fine upstanding citizen. Prior to forensics and video surveillance, this was the sort of evidence the court had to rely on.
Cobb and Ryley are acquitted.
However, Sam Cobb is ordered tried for another theft, of a gown from a clothesline. He was seen taking the gown and caught.
The man who caught him, James Jephson, is asked, "How came you to go after him?"
He replies (I imagine this with a look that says, Are you an idiot?"): "By Reason the last Witness cried out Stop Thief!"
Ha!
So Cobb's caught red-handed, as it were. But lo! The court stenographer writes:
"All Cobb's Friends and Neighbours appeared for him again, as upon his former Trial, saying they never heard any hurt of him, a very sober honest Man;"
Then our anonymous court stenographer writes:
"either they must have been very ignorant of his Conduct, which can hardly be imagined, or, what is to be feared, much worse, all perjured; for he is the very Person that was tried the last Sessions; was taken among a Nest of Thieves, and appeared to the Court to be a very bad young Fellow."
Oh, snap!
Cobb is found guilty and ordered transported. But does he take this like the tough guy I can imagine he pretended to be? Nope.
"he cried, and pleaded hard not to be sent out of his native Country, but he was too well known to be suffered to remain any longer in his own."
Double snap!
But really, the thing I love about this is the point of view of the court stenographer that sneaks in. I can see a secondary character there for sure, and possibly a hero who somehow gets involved in a case.
