For Whatever Reasons - 1. For Whatever Reasons

"Every person convicted of the abominable crime of Buggery either with Mankind or with any Animal, shall suffer death as a Felon."

Offences Against the Person Act 1828, Section 16.

England

　
London, April 1829.

I returned home late and found Harold sitting at his desk.

"What has happened?" I asked.

He turned to me, wiping his eyes.

"A serious case, Jeffrey. A certain James Lawrence came to see me. The man was desperate."

Harold wiped his eyes again.

"His brother, Ethan Lawrence, was arrested Thursday night. Offence against the Person Act 1828, Section 16. No charge pressed yet, though. An inspector wanted to question him. But Lawrence refused to answer and sent a note to his brother and asked him to look for a lawyer. James Lawrence left the house in a state of shock and hurried to the police station. He spotted our office on his way and dashed in. He spent the afternoon in the police station. They refused to let him talk with his brother. So he came to our office again. I had to calm him down. It took a while before he was able to speak coherently."

"He told me he knew of his brother’s addictions and he feared that the accusations were true. Ethan Lawrence went to the brothels often. You know what this means, in case they picked him up there. But I do not know for sure. His brother did not know any details. I suggested I go with him to the police station tomorrow morning and question his brother. Then I will see what I can do for him. Will you accompany me?"

I took a chair and sat down next to Harold.

"Sure," I said. "At what time?"

"Nine o’clock," Harold said.

~~**~~

We entered the police station on Saturday morning and asked to question our client. The inspector agreed unwillingly. We were led to a small room, furnished with a table and four wooden chairs. James Lawrence had accompanied us, but he had to wait outside. Ten minutes later, the door opened and Ethan Lawrence and a policeman entered the room. Harold told him his brother had asked us to adopt his case. He asked him if he was willing to co-operate. Ethan Lawrence confirmed and signed a paper. I handed it to the policeman. The man left the room.

We sat down. I opened a folder and took a pencil to take minutes. Harold turned to Ethan Lawrence.

"Mister Lawrence, I talked to the inspector. You are supposed to be accused of sodomy. The charge is not pressed yet, though. It will depend on your statement. It means you are just suspected of having committed this crime. I ask you to describe the course of events. We then will decide on how to proceed."

Lawrence looked between us, and then he fixed his gaze on Harold.

"Mister Alcott, sir, I fear that it is all true and you will not be able to do anything but shorten the procedure. I’m grateful that I must not go through this on my own. I had a terrible night, the worst night I ever had in my life. I do pray I will be able to endure what I will have to face now."

Harold and I exchanged a brief look. Then Harold nodded at Lawrence. The man started to talk.

~~**~~
"I met him four weeks ago when I roamed the red light district in search of a guy willing to spend the night with me. I felt this need again to be with someone. I have tried to hold back my desires. But I was not able to ignore them any longer. I missed the pleasures."

"Now and then, in the dark of the night, I leave my house and I go to that debauched part of the city. I walk up and down the streets. I know the places where I can find them, the young men waiting for their clients. It’s dangerous to go there. You have to watch out for the vice police. They patrol the streets, preferably on Friday and Saturday evenings. But I usually go there way past midnight. It’s less dangerous then. Fewer boys are in the streets then, but some of them are around always, waiting for late clients willing to rent them an hour or two."

"I spotted him. He was slouching at a corner. I was stunned by his looks at once. He looked amazing. His eyes followed me. He knew what I was coming for. ‘How long?’ he asked me when I stopped in front of him. I did not reply. I just looked at him. He looked me up and down and gave me a mocking smile. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘You can come to my room. I live up there,’ he said, pointing at a house on the other side of the street. ‘You have to leave at six in the morning. It’s 100. The price is covering the usual. Extra service is extra fee. Give me 50 in advance.’ I just nodded, still stunned by his looks. ‘Follow me,’ he said with an idle gesture of his hand. We crossed the road, and I followed him upstairs. The building was old, the staircase was dirty, and the walls were mould-infested."

"He opened a door to a room on the third floor, a small room, furnished with a wardrobe, a table, two chairs and a bed. He lit a lamp. I glanced around. The wooden furniture was old. But the room was cleaned, at least. I saw a leather-bound book on the table, and a plate and a mug. I looked at the bed. A blue and white blanket covered it.

"‘What’s your name?’ I asked. ‘Do I ask you that very question?’ he asked back. ‘No, I do not. I don’t want to know. So do not ask me. Give me the money.’ I took my wallet out of the pocket of my coat and I paid him half of the agreed amount. He put the money in a copper box on a wooden shelf. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘You paid the price for buggery. After that, you can sleep by my side until the morning and then you’ll give me the rest of the money.’ I looked at him and took in his features. What had I expected? It was just business."

"He stripped the blanket off the bed. I watched him and I wondered how often he had done this. I took off my coat slowly. He turned to me. For the first time, he smiled. ‘No need to feel awkward,’ he said. ‘I have done this many times and you are not a beginner also.’ I smiled faintly and watched him stripping off his clothes. I thought he looked gorgeous and I felt my desire arise. Slowly, I took off my waistcoat and my shirt. He walked up to me and looked at me. He touched me. I breathed faster as his hands trailed down my body. He unbuttoned my pants and pushed his hands inside. I closed my eyes."

"We moved to the bed. I sat down and took off my shoes and removed the rest of my clothes. He already lay stretched on the bed. He turned on his side, watching me. I stretched on the bed and looked at the window. The curtains were drawn shut. Only the dim light of an oil lamp illuminated the room."

"His hand trailed down my chest. He stopped for a moment before he moved his hand farther. I took in a deep breath when he touched me. He knew what to do and how to do it. Soon he had aroused my need and desire. I moved closer to him."

"I left in the morning at six o’clock and I paid him the rest of the money. I looked at him before I closed the door. He was lying on his side and he just looked at me from under his lashes."

~~**~~

"I should have not gone to see him again. I felt I was to blame. But I felt the need to. My desires haunt me. I went there again the following Friday. I did not find him. I walked up and down the streets until one o’clock in the morning and until I ran into a policeman. Before he could say a word, I turned around a corner and I hid in a backyard quickly. I should have taken this incident as a warning. But I felt like I was obsessed and I needed to see him again."

"On Saturday night, I caught a glimpse of him. He was just crossing the street with a client, a stout and portly man, when I arrived at his corner. I watched them disappear into the house and I felt a sudden despair. He had passed me by. But he had not seen me."

"I should have refrained from my disgraceful tracking him. My life would not lie in ruins now. But I did not. I saw him again the following Friday night. He smiled at me when he recognized me. He took me to his room again. I paid the same price. He offered me an extra service this time for free. I do so adore him."

"You probably think what has become of this man. He’s a miserable creature, lost to unnatural desires. He’s seriously ill. He has lost his sanity because he is obsessed by his desire to be with an even more corrupt creature, a rent boy selling his body to whoever comes his way."

"I went to see him again last Thursday, since I was supposed to leave London on Friday afternoon for the weekend. I met him in the street at nine o’clock. We should have gone to his room at once, but instead, we stood chatting at the corner. We didn’t realize that they were watching us. I felt safe. I cannot say why."

"Finally, we went upstairs. We did not undress at once. I spotted the leather-bound book again and I asked him to show it to me. He gave it to me with a proud smile. ‘A client’s present. Shakespeare’s sonnets. I read them all. My name is William also,’ he said. I smiled at him. ‘William,’ I repeated and I turned the pages and read a sonnet aloud. ‘My name is Ethan,’ I just said when they tore open the door and dashed into the room. They had waited fifteen minutes to be sure to catch us in the act. Two policemen of the vice police."

"I winced and the book dropped to the floor. William jumped and ran out of the room. He rushed down the stairs. I turned to the door as well. But one man stepped in my way, and the other man placed his hand on my arm. ‘No need to hurry, sir,’ he said. ‘Will you please follow us to the police station, or would you prefer we lead you away in handcuffs?’ I followed them in a state of shock. They did not talk to me. They put me in a cell, and there I stayed all night."

"They took me to an office on Friday morning. They kept me waiting there for almost one hour. An inspector entered the room finally. He sat down opposite me while a policeman stood behind me. The inspector looked at me and inquired my name. I refused to answer. He smiled. ‘Sir, you are accused of having committed a series of acts abhorrent to nature. You can either make your statement to help us find out if these accusations are true. Or you can prefer to be taken back to your cell. Thus you can get accustomed to it, since in a cell like this cell, less comfortable though, you will spend the rest of your life, if these accusations turn out to be true.’"

"I was in a state of shock, barely able to think, but I vaguely remembered that I had the right to consult a lawyer before I made a statement. I insisted on that. Unwillingly, the inspector agreed. I scribbled a note to my brother. I just wrote that I was placed under arrest for an abhorrent crime and I asked him to look for a lawyer who was willing to adopt my case. I’m grateful James acted immediately. I’m grateful you came to see me, sirs, though I guess you will drop the case, now that I confess that those accusations are true."

~~**~~

Harold and I exchanged a look. Harold paced the room, thinking. Lawrence watched him, his hands placed on the wooden table. Finally, Harold turned to him.

"I have adopted this case and I will not drop it, Mister Lawrence. There’s no evidence. There is no witness. There is no accomplice. I suspect William is clever enough to hide for some time. No one accused you but the two policemen. They watched you following a young man to his room. They say he is rent boy. Can that be proven beyond doubt? Even if he is a rent boy, it does not necessarily mean that everyone paying him a visit goes to see him for some whatever services."

"A brother might pay him a visit, a cousin maybe. The postman might hand him a parcel. A craftsman might want to enter his room in order to mend the window, for instance. A concierge enters the room now and then, and perhaps a boy who delivers a bundle from the laundry. Can all these men be accused of a crime just because they enter a room and do their job? Decent and respectable men who work hard all day long are suspected just because they do their job? Just because their work requires they enter a room? Untenable assertions. Common sense tells us that a multitude of operations and actions necessarily cannot be done in the street but require that persons meet in a room, a shop maybe, an office, for instance, and sometimes a private room."

"Your brother says you own a warehouse and sell at auctions. You necessarily have to examine the goods that are offered to you before you might want to sell them. I cannot see why anybody should make a complaint about you examining a book, a leather-bound book, a book on Shakespeare’s sonnets. Mister Lawrence, those policemen witnessed you examining a book. They arrested you for having a look at a book? They wanted to lead you away in handcuffs for examining a book? They threatened you? That’s malpractice. I, for my part, I am wondering why these two policemen entered the room without knocking at the door. I am truly wondering why they did not watch the street as was their duty. Mister Lawrence, I suggest you make your statement."

Harold turned to me.

"Have you written down the major points, Jeffrey?"

I nodded and closed the folder. Harold turned back to Lawrence.

"Mister Lawrence, I suggest we go through the details again before you speak to the inspector. I stay with you while Mister Chandler goes to our office and writes a fair copy of what we will present to the inspector."

Lawrence nodded slowly, apparently struggling to comprehend what Harold had said. I rose from the chair and knocked at the door. The policeman opened it and gave me a grumpy look. I nodded at Harold and Lawrence. For the first time, Ethan Lawrence smiled.

~~**~~
It was already late in the evening when Harold returned home. He went into the bathroom. I heard him pour water into a bowl. He joined me a few minutes later, wiping his face with a towel. He threw the towel aside, took off his waistcoat and sat down on a chair.

"They released him. They had to," he said. "After you had left, I went with him through the details of his statement. I had Lawrence repeat everything twice. At twelve, you came back and gave me the fair copy. I asked to see Reynolds, the inspector. They told me Reynolds was on his lunch break and would come back at one o’clock. They took Lawrence back to his cell. His brother James and I were waiting. I was hungry and thirsty. I managed we got a glass of water, at least."

"At half past two a grumpy policeman told me that the inspector had gone to a meeting and would not return before four o’clock. I convinced James to accompany me to a restaurant. James was about to have a nervous breakdown. We came back at four. Reynolds showed up. I told him Ethan Lawrence was willing to make his statement. Reynolds told me to sit down and wait because he wanted to do some urgent correspondence first. It was hard, but I kept my cool. They wilfully kept Ethan waiting in his cell. I hoped he kept cool also. His brother certainly had lost his nerves."

"At five o’clock they finally took Ethan to Reynolds’s office. He questioned him for about an hour. Then they took him back to his cell. I claimed to read his statement. Reynolds refused. I kept standing in the doorway, and finally I held the paper in my hands. Lawrence had kept cool. They had written down exactly what I had told him to say. I asked why they had taken him back to the cell. The matter was certainly clear. No reason to keep him under arrest. The inspector leaned back in his chair and said calmly that the matter was not clear at all, the matter required a more profound investigation, yet he was willing to work overtime and wait for the two policemen to come back from their patrol. He intended to question them again. I handed in our application for release."

"The two policemen came back at about seven o’clock and went to Reynolds’s office. An hour later, they called me in and told me that Ethan Lawrence could go. I was asked to wait outside. They had to make ready his walking papers. It took another half an hour. Finally, a policeman went to fetch Lawrence. I think it was nine o’clock when I finally sat in a carriage with the Lawrence brothers. I accompanied them home. They shook my hand and muttered something. They are crushed entirely, both of them."

Harold looked to the ceiling.

"What?" I asked. "You won. You got him out."

"Yes, I won," he said. "But do you really think this will stop Ethan Lawrence from going there again? He’s an addict. He will go there and do it again and again, until his life lies in ruins."

Harold looked at me. I returned a faint nod.

"Perhaps," I said. "You can’t save them all. Some aim at their destruction."

"Yes," Harold said in a tired voice. "Their life ends in tragedy. And you cannot do anything about it. Yes, some aim at their destruction, for whatever reasons."

　
~~**~~