City of Vice (2008) s01e05 Episode Script
Episode 5
London.
My city.
A monstrous place, as we know.
The story I have yet to tell is how we began our bid for a police force, and how close this great city came to being destroyed by anarchy.
For this, I must go back to the beginning, back to the time when armed gangs were all but unchallenged in the streets.
There were a few brave constables, but they faced a near impossible task.
Hey! Unhand the lady and piss off back to Clerkenwell.
What are you gonna do about it, huh? Right then, come on.
They were simply overwhelmed.
They needed help.
And so, I devised a proposal to Parliament to remedy this epidemic of robbery.
Turning my attention from my celebrated works of fiction, I'd accepted the post of Magistrate of Westminster.
And with my brother John, blind since youth, resolved to create a new organisation that would bring law and order to the city's streets.
London was in need of a police force.
- Episodio 5 - Traduzione: Paulanna Revisione: AlexandraD We had night watchmen and thief-takers, but they were deeply corrupt.
To create an effective police force I needed money and I needed sponsors in Parliament.
We hoped to have found such a patron in Thomas Pelham-Holles, the first Duke of Newcastle, brother of the Prime Minister and a future Prime Minister himself.
My brother has performed the most exhaustive calculations and we require merely £500 to employ six men.
With such a force, we can crush forever these gangs that infest our streets.
Even six men will be considered a police force, Mr Fielding, and Parliament is unlikely to regard it with enthusiasm.
The very idea remains foreign to the English temperament.
Indeed.
We'd make sure not to call them police.
Our proposals to Parliament in detail, my lord.
As luck would have it, here's Mr Saunders Welch.
Which family of shitsacks spawned this one? The Mooney gang again, Mr Fielding.
Assaulting a gentleman and his good wife not two streets off, weren't you? Ulgh! Nicholas Mooney - perfect example.
Absolutely the vilest man that ever wore a head and yet unhindered in his foul, violent work.
Observe our predicament.
Mr Saunders Welch, the most trustworthy man in London, and a master craftsman with his fist, He is not enough.
Six men the like of Mr Welch.
With just six, we can make a beginning.
Hmm, gentlemen, a most interesting discussion, and I have no wish to curtail it.
It would afford me the most immense pleasure if you would be my guests.
Oh, that's most generous, sir.
Sling the Boglander in the Compter.
We'll discuss him in the morning.
Nothing that's happened since, not even my abduction by Thomas Jones and his gang, weighed as heavy on my soul as what we discovered that night.
The city held worse monsters than gangs.
Greater evils than crime.
Covent Garden heaved with brothels.
Indeed, there was one next door to my house.
But Newcastle had taken us to the city's most exclusive in Pall Mall - the Temples of Venus.
Are you acquainted with Mrs Fawkland? No.
It's a pleasure we've hitherto been denied.
Sir? My Lord Newcastle, a pleasure, as always.
Madam.
You must know my guests, who have most generously escorted me through these perilous streets.
Mr Henry, Mr John Fielding.
How delightful.
The magistrates of Westminster.
Madam.
Madam.
Can I offer you tea or wine? Order a bottle of port, Fielding.
They have the finest in London.
Just late arrived on a ship from Lisbon.
And so, immediately, you discover my weakness.
There are two temples here, one for younger ladies, the other for those who cater for more specialised tastes.
A tour is surely in order, Mrs Fawkland.
It would be my most ardent pleasure.
Well, then.
It would be ours.
Do you require assistance, Mr Fielding? No, thank you, I am perfectly mobile.
Very well.
Let's take a walk.
Who is this most delightful of creatures? Susannah White, my lord.
People call me Sukie, sir.
Mrs Fawkland, I trust Sukie is new to your house and you haven't been hiding her from me.
Not hiding saving.
These are my renowned guests.
Mr Henry Fielding is the greatest writer in England, a master of stage and the printed page alike.
My lord is endlessly kind.
Perhaps madam will be generous and lend me some of his writings so as I can improve myself.
Speak presently.
Gentlemen.
Such close friends of Lord Newcastle are of course welcome to visit any time.
Returning home that night, warmed by Mrs.
fawkland's port, all seemed well in the world.
Lord Newcastle was having a satisfying evening and was likely therefore to be enthusiastic about our scheme.
One of the Mooney gang was in jail.
Nothing now could divert us.
Do you thing 6 men will be sufficient? No.
No.
In a year we should petition for more.
Just think what marvels we will have accomplished in a year.
You look tired, Mr Fielding.
It would do you good not to stay up all night.
Yes, yes.
Good evening, Sir.
Mr Fielding! Mr Fielding! Mr Fielding! I just want to see the magistrate.
You can't wake him up? No, I can't.
I just want to see the magistrate.
I'm begging you, sir.
I gotta speak to you.
Young woman, the hour is very late.
The Temples of Venus ain't what they seem.
Things go on there.
Things you ought to know about, sir.
Things evil in the sight of God.
Me and my sister, we walk to the piazza every day from Hackney, where my father works the orchards.
We was umselling apples when one of Mrs Fawkland's people saw us.
And offered you employment? Last Thursday.
My father don't earn much, most of what he does earn he spends on ale.
Our mother's dead, God rest her soul.
So, Mrs Fawkland's offer was a stroke of remarkable good fortune.
I sent her home - my sister.
I sent her home.
But.
.
a bully in Mrs Fawkland's employment must've snatched her somewhere on the road.
No sooner was I given food and clothing at the Temple, did I discover that my sister was there, too.
Mr Fielding, she For all I know they've deflowered her already.
I imagine the sale of apples was not the extent of your prior experience.
In the name of God, Sir.
In the name of God.
Polly's not quite seven years old.
How dare you march into my house like this? Excuse me! Mr Fielding.
You have some property here of mine.
These pretty clothes on your back belong to me, Susannah.
Dress, made specially for you, cost me ten shillings.
Skirts and petticoats, eight and six.
The hat was four.
The shoes, with buckles, eight shillings.
Of course, you know the law Of course he knows the law.
He's a magistrate Mary.
Then you must agree the girl's a thief.
Either throw her in the Compter, arrange for her hanging or see to it she returns with me.
Mr Fielding It seems you'd best return with Mrs Fawkland.
The devil fuck you, Mr Fielding.
I had heard you might be more difficult than your predecessors, but I see you are a reasonable man.
In all things.
I don't know what you earn from your novels, Mr Fielding.
But I'm sure the office of magistrate is less than serious lucrative, without the beneficence of patrons.
We share many patrons, I've no doubt.
Sir.
Rabid bitch.
Well, she's right, Henry.
The law is clear.
The girl's a thief.
Did you hear anything - any children? No.
No, I did not.
Could there be children there? Henry, our objectives are clear and within sight.
It would be a mistake to permit diversion.
The violation of a child? The girl is right.
There is God's law.
Come to bed, Henry.
Get some sleep.
Now I saw that the creation of a police force was a Christian duty.
Needed, not only to enforce the law, but also to protect the innocent.
Three-quarters of the city's children never saw their fifth birthday.
Foundlings begged for survival or turned to crime, or died of neglect.
I needed to know if such children were, indeed, being unnaturally exploited in Mrs Fawkland's exclusive house.
Under cover of accepting her offer of the previous day, I returned to the Temples of Venus, in the guise of a customer.
What service do you require this time, Mr Fielding? I wish to talk.
With you.
Madam.
Tea for one.
You are a great man, Mr Fielding.
But still a man.
There's no shame in that.
Rest assured, Tom Jones alone ensures you a most reasonable price.
I can see why Lord Newcastle holds you in such high regard.
What encouraged you to turn from the world of letters to crime and punishment? Pecuniary hardship.
I was barred from the stage, so I turned to the law.
What encouraged you to turn .
.
here? Pecuniary hardship.
That is, a determination to avoid it.
There are few ways for a girl to exercise some control in her life.
And I prefer this to being the other kind of mistress.
Which I was, for a while.
He chose to marry.
But he was very rich, and he felt I deserved some .
.
compensation.
I understand the woman I met last night is your second wife.
Yes.
My first wife .
.
Charlotte She passed away.
She was your great love.
According to my intelligence, this new wife gave birth to a child but three months after your nuptials.
Prior to which, she was your maid, Mr Fielding.
Your intelligence is correct.
Don't misunderstand me, Mr Fielding.
In my position, it does me little favour to bow before the petty moralities of the town and its scandals.
Au contraire.
I'm impressed.
You ignored the wagging tongues of Grub Street in order that your child be not a bastardo.
Do you regret the marriage? Sometimes.
As you say, it was only for propriety's sake.
Human beings, as we know, are weak, sinful creatures.
All of us, however we decorate it.
Our instincts are base.
Greed.
Selfishness.
Lust.
Mr O'Mara, your worship charged with the following list of robberies all undertaken as part of the notorious gang of one Nicolas Mooney.
On July 12th, you did rob Mr Bedevere Arbuthnot of 40 guineas.
I never heard of Nicholas Mooney.
Do you want to hang, O'Mara? To have your neck broken by a rope's noose? It's a rare thing that I offer to spare a man the gallows, and yet, you rush towards martyrdom.
I can't help you, sir.
Assist me in the arrest and conviction of Mooney and it will be his neck, not yours.
Terrifying the man may be, but his vengeance cannot reach you from hell.
We will protect you.
Girls at the flower of their womanhood.
Most charming.
How do you find these charming girls? They come to me.
It's their choice.
I offer them a home, an education and a trade.
Do any of them take your fancy, or shall I show you the Temple of Mysteries? None of these girls are virgins, of course, but they compensate for that failure in numberless ways.
Jenny here has remarkable skills with her mouth.
Nelly, with birches, as for Kitty You said there are two Temples.
But the girl, Susannah White, she said she had a sister.
A sister? Who knows what torment that child endured with a father who's a drunkard and a whore for a sister? No, I have no doubt at all she's better off with you.
There are young girls in my charge who receive instruction in reading and writing, and decorum.
When they reach 16 You are a businesswoman, Mrs Fawkland.
I wish to do business.
Because, as you see .
.
I am ill.
Rest assured, sir, of my discretion.
People think it merely gout, or the ravages of time.
But my ill-health, as you will have guessed, is the fruit of sin.
The normal treatment, salivation Its effects are too public for a man in my position.
You need a child.
Then sir, it is our Third Temple that you require.
'It was true.
'The Temples of Venus did indeed contain a secret third temple '.
.
where a man might be cured of syphilis 'by intercourse with a virgin child.
' Is that Polly White? That particular child is already spoken for, Mr Fielding.
Perhaps I could outbid him.
This girl is perfect for your need.
Eight summers, a virgin, and a charming child.
Betsy! Come! She would normally be 50 guineas, but I offer her to you for 30.
Do you wish to conclude? No! Delay is inadvisable.
Your condition will only grow worse.
III I need to bring the money.
Oh, I think you can be trusted to honour your debts, Mr Fielding.
I have to get drunk.
I understand.
Your every need will be catered for.
Mypresent need, of course .
.
disgusts me.
You are ill, sir, and in need of a remedy.
You're very kind, Mrs Fawkland.
Stand out of my way! I demand you let me pass! Excuse me.
I insist.
I will see that bitch! Mr Hargreaves.
Your skivvy here claimed that you was out.
Oh! Mr Fielding.
Once before we met in person at the Little Haymarket Theatre.
Ah, I'm sure the honour was mine.
So long as you weren't a critic.
Mr Hargreaves is the milliner from across the street.
Mr Fielding is inspecting my premises in his capacity as magistrate.
And found nothing unlawful, I'm sure.
Nothing unlawful.
Mrs Fawkland, perhaps we could conclude our business tomorrow evening.
Good day, sir.
An immense pleasure to have you as our guest, my Lord.
Your brother isn't here, I understand.
Indeed, no, no indeed.
Made further progress with this Mooney gang? Well, there is the one who will hang.
As for the rest of them - until we are equipped, as we discussed.
Yes.
I've been pondering the subject of our discussions.
I confess, in the light of day, the runners you request seem a less attractive proposition.
A proposal better suited to European despotism than the free men of England.
Our liberties are precious beyond life, are they not? Good.
Good.
For four years we had lobbied parliament for a police force - always obstructed by the apathy of the aristocracy.
I suddenly saw very clearly that the problem was more profound.
We were seeking the patronage of men who were up to their necks in filth.
Is the child there? Newcastle's changed his mind.
His Lordship's whim has deserted us.
There will be no funds.
And as the slug, O'Mara, fears Mooney more than us, we are damnable thwarted.
It is a small thing, a single child, when so many are doomed.
But we must save that child.
Henry "But who shall offend against one of these little ones, "it were better for him a millstone be hanged around his neck, "and he be drowned in the depths of the sea.
" It's monstrous indeed, if it inspires you to quote Scripture.
It is monstrous! Indeed! But we're agreed, however, that the problem regarding Lord Newcastle requires the most urgent attention.
Perhaps there's a way to satisfy both concerns.
My half-brother John had lost his sight when he was 19 years old.
But it had by no means blunted the sharpness of his mind.
He was able to recognise no fewer than 3,000 street criminals by their voices alone.
He understood that if we were to win back Lord Newcastle's support, we would need to be cunning.
And to combat Mrs Fawkland, with all her influential patrons, the best approach was not necessarily the most direct.
Mr Hargreaves.
It gives me great pleasure to see my work does not wholly go to waste.
I find your journal unparalleled useful, sir.
It might be yet more useful if space could be found to advertise the magnificence of your hats.
In that case, Mr Fielding, my gratitude would be immeasurable.
Mrs Fielding would sure look resplendent in such colours.
Or perhaps Yes.
I would offer a considerable concession to the author of Eurydice Hiss'd, The Tragedy Of Tragedies and the Grub-Street Opera Sir.
I'll blush.
Were you regularly in attendance at the Haymarket? Oh, whenever I could, Mr Fielding.
And now, of course, I and my good wife consume your novels as if they were physical nourishment.
Again, my thanks.
Now, this is excellent workmanship.
It must be rather tiresome, and perhaps a little difficult, when your clients are sluggish in the settling of their accounts.
Does she owe a lot? I beg your pardon.
I didn't mean to pry into your business affairs.
Mrs Fawkland in no wise has caused me trouble, sir.
Except financially.
Shall we? Do you think she can't pay, or simply sees no reason to do so? I'm more of the opinion it is the latter.
Dress-makers, cobblers, jewellers will tell a similar tale, whereas grocers and purveyors of liquor she pays every week.
I am sore most anxious as to whether I shall be paid at all.
Recourse to bailiffs is of course the prerogative of the creditor.
Unfortunately, her bawdy house is already home from home for half the piss-proud gentry.
The woman owes you money.
The law is perfectly clear on the matter.
She may have formidable friends, but I am the magistrate of Westminster and Middlesex.
If you take your rightful, lawful action against her, you and your fellow merchants hereabouts, you will receive my unqualified support.
The more so, should your action occur around eight o'clock this evening.
Oh! May I have another? Round up a few of your associates, Mr Welch .
.
with yourcustomary discretion.
The key lay with our colleague, Saunders Welch.
As High Constable of Holborn for six years, he had acquired a knowledge of London haunts which was unparalleled, and essential if our dream of a London police force was ever to become reality.
You can 'ave two but where's your coins? A night out at the Temples of Venus offered, by all accounts, a full service.
Dinner, music, cards and dancing were in plentiful supply, and always with a guarantee of fulfilment by the end of the evening.
The last thing its wealthy patrons expected or desired was a rude interruption from the bailiffs.
We sensed Lord Newcastle would have a particular aversion to it.
And the removal of a debtor, in this case their mistress, might provide for Polly White and her like a glimmer of hope.
You want the night to have ended.
I hope the milliner hasn't put too much faith in us.
Should it fail, he may blurt out our names in his defence.
If it gives us the ability to save the girl, I don't much care.
My foot pains me like a fuckster.
We're looking for Lady Fawkland.
Where is she? No cause for alarm, gentlemen, it's only bailiffs.
Nonetheless, it is most disagreeable.
I don't know about you, but I have places I could be less like to cause me indigestion.
Lady Fawkland! Come out! We know you're in here.
Take your hands off me! You don't think I come of my own free will? Rest assured, I will not tolerate being manhandled in this manner.
Within 24 hours, you will both of you most powerfully regret Purse.
Purse! Coat! Coat! Compliments of the Moonies! Mr Welch, John, andtwo companions.
I know.
I can tell Welch from the sound of his boots.
You need to soak that foot.
I'll boil some water.
Oh, later.
This is Bill Pentelow.
Former constable, less bent than most.
Went 20 rounds with Mr Cripps, though not as sharp as he used to be.
And this is Daniel Carne.
Fast as shit through a goose.
If the piss pot thinks he don't need protection walking the streets at night, he's learned his lesson.
What ought we do with his Lordship's property, sir? We were thinking we might return it to him, as further demonstration of the merits of having runners.
That would be somewhat incriminating, would it not? That depends how blockheaded he is, sir.
And I'd sayconsiderable.
How much money is there? Maybe six guineas in the purse, and the coat is worth a few shillings.
Is six guineas the full content of the purse? I swear to God, sir, neither of us have pilfered a ha'penny.
I can guarantee the honesty of these fellows, Mr Fielding.
If Mr Welch caught us lying, he'd thrash us till our own mothers wouldn't know us by sight.
Good.
The money will be useful.
Well, it'll teach his lordship to have so much on his person in these dangerous times.
But burn the coat.
After raiding their place of business, bailiffs would remove the debtor to a sponging house, a domestic dwelling, serving as a temporary prison.
It was a place where creditors squeezed their debtors of their last coin.
But Mrs Fawkland, with her impressive list of patrons, had no intention of remaining there for long.
On hearing of a lady in such distressful circumstances, it was the duty of a gentleman to pay her a visit.
Mr Fielding! I was outraged, madam, to hear of your misadventure.
It seems that some of your neighbours are less than neighbourly.
Oh, you are most kind.
I gather from your continuing incarceration, that at the present moment, you are unable to discharge your debts.
That is true, Mr Fielding.
Well, I wish I could help - financially.
But as you yourself pointed out, my office pays but poorly.
Do you suppose your friends are looking for you? Of course.
Request to the Earl of Sandwich that he pays his bill.
Requests from a friend in need, for assistance.
Oh, you regard them as your friends? Your patrons? I wonder if already one of your whores hasn't usurped your position and taken control of your temples.
I mean, why wouldn't they? And I know a thing or two about patrons.
Why shouldn't the likes of Lord Newcastle, Earl of Coventry, Viscount Queensbury, and, oh, the Viscount Fawkland, whose name you so charmingly purloined.
Why should they care which whore is in charge? My friends will find me.
The immediate question is will they find you soon enough to prevent your removal to the Fleet.
Have you ever been in the Fleet prison? Forgive me, Mr Fielding.
I'm very tired.
Your famous wit is lost on me this morning.
Bridewell, though, I imagine.
Do as you will, Mr Fielding.
I can write more letters.
Jane.
Both of us know you don't want to go back to prison.
In truth, I admire you.
To survive Bridewell, you must have sold your cunt, your mouth, and your arse for bread.
And you were lucky enough to get out without the pox.
And, lo, like a phoenix, you are Mrs Fawkland.
The consort and favourite of lords.
Magnificent.
What is it you want? You port-soaked son of a bitch.
The girl, Susannah White, and her sister Polly.
You will release them from servitude and obligation.
With or without the clothes you haven't paid for yet.
What will you do with the child, Polly? Keep her locked away? I know you, Fielding, men like you.
Is that so? "Oh, madam, I am sick, and a virgin is a medical urgency.
" Such a transparent lie.
The truth is, only the freshest flesh can quench your abominable lusts.
Your pretty wife, an aged hag, already spoiled by childbirth, unable to satisfy your lusts.
She's too loose.
You're a formidable woman, Mrs Fawkland.
"Formidable", as the French say.
And you have even more formidable friends.
I am but a lowly magistrate.
But consider this, before you think to enact your swift revenge.
My office may lack a certain authority.
But I, too, am very clever.
Very well Consider it done.
Fielding! Have you heard about my appalling ordeal? What's this? I'd just started to tell your brother.
He was assaulted by ruffians, who stole his coat and purse.
Good lord! Neither of you heard of it? Not a word, my Lord.
It was your Mooney gang.
I fought them, of course, and gave them bloody noses.
Mr Fielding, it was dreadful.
They attacked me with clubs, and wore terrifying masks, as if they were the minions of Satan himself.
Thank God you survived to tell the tale.
Thank God, indeed.
I have to confess this brush with brigandry has reinforced my commitment to your cause.
I shall be proposing your bill, Mr Fielding.
Parliament, I am sure, will agree to a small force of men to assist you.
In years to come, I promise you, no-one will believe this city existed without police.
You can apprehend these hell-hounds.
You'll show them no leniency.
I want that understood.
They'll be publicly hanged at Tyburn, with the crowds cheering as the shit-arsed blaggards' necks are stretched and snap.
We will do everything possible to bring these men to justice.
Indeed.
Of course, nobody wishes this to be spoken of openly.
You'll have your runners, under your command at Number 4, Bow Street, but for now, they'll be a secret.
Whatever's best in the judgment of Parliament, my Lord.
Lord Newcastle was almost as good as his word In September 1753, Parliament had voted us £200 of the £500 we requested.
My sister knows the way from down here, sir.
There's no life for me selling fruit, Mr Welch.
I wanted to know my sister was out of harm's way.
And now she is.
I wonder if I could ask you one last act of kindness, though.
You'd see to it she gets safely back to my father? And after, would you tell Mr Fielding that I'm sorry.
My words to him were harsh and We are for ever in his debt.
Of course.
My Lord.
This girl is quite the most ungrateful bitch I have met, but I leave the decision to you.
If you still want to fuck her, she can stay.
Oh, I still want to fuck her.
To Lord Newcastle! A splendid fellow.
A gambler and a fornicator.
A fuckster.
But our voice among the powerful.
Our friend.
Our friend.
'Human beings, creatures of basest instincts.
' 'I never thought differently.
' 'Animal passions, 'chaos '.
.
hell itself.
' We need order.
We need the law.
And finally, we can give London what it needs.
So were able to begin our war on crime with our force of constables.
All, like Mr Welch, master craftsmen with their fists.
We've had our triumphs and defeats.
It has been harder than I ever imagined.
We fought the gangs.
Fire with fire.
Blood with blood.
We'd broken some of the most powerful of them, proved who is master.
Justice has been done.
But we've only scraped the scum from the surface.
The filth, as I know, runs very deep.
There are more terrible monsters, down in the depths.
It's those we must face and conquer if we are to purge this city of vice.
My city.
A monstrous place, as we know.
The story I have yet to tell is how we began our bid for a police force, and how close this great city came to being destroyed by anarchy.
For this, I must go back to the beginning, back to the time when armed gangs were all but unchallenged in the streets.
There were a few brave constables, but they faced a near impossible task.
Hey! Unhand the lady and piss off back to Clerkenwell.
What are you gonna do about it, huh? Right then, come on.
They were simply overwhelmed.
They needed help.
And so, I devised a proposal to Parliament to remedy this epidemic of robbery.
Turning my attention from my celebrated works of fiction, I'd accepted the post of Magistrate of Westminster.
And with my brother John, blind since youth, resolved to create a new organisation that would bring law and order to the city's streets.
London was in need of a police force.
- Episodio 5 - Traduzione: Paulanna Revisione: AlexandraD We had night watchmen and thief-takers, but they were deeply corrupt.
To create an effective police force I needed money and I needed sponsors in Parliament.
We hoped to have found such a patron in Thomas Pelham-Holles, the first Duke of Newcastle, brother of the Prime Minister and a future Prime Minister himself.
My brother has performed the most exhaustive calculations and we require merely £500 to employ six men.
With such a force, we can crush forever these gangs that infest our streets.
Even six men will be considered a police force, Mr Fielding, and Parliament is unlikely to regard it with enthusiasm.
The very idea remains foreign to the English temperament.
Indeed.
We'd make sure not to call them police.
Our proposals to Parliament in detail, my lord.
As luck would have it, here's Mr Saunders Welch.
Which family of shitsacks spawned this one? The Mooney gang again, Mr Fielding.
Assaulting a gentleman and his good wife not two streets off, weren't you? Ulgh! Nicholas Mooney - perfect example.
Absolutely the vilest man that ever wore a head and yet unhindered in his foul, violent work.
Observe our predicament.
Mr Saunders Welch, the most trustworthy man in London, and a master craftsman with his fist, He is not enough.
Six men the like of Mr Welch.
With just six, we can make a beginning.
Hmm, gentlemen, a most interesting discussion, and I have no wish to curtail it.
It would afford me the most immense pleasure if you would be my guests.
Oh, that's most generous, sir.
Sling the Boglander in the Compter.
We'll discuss him in the morning.
Nothing that's happened since, not even my abduction by Thomas Jones and his gang, weighed as heavy on my soul as what we discovered that night.
The city held worse monsters than gangs.
Greater evils than crime.
Covent Garden heaved with brothels.
Indeed, there was one next door to my house.
But Newcastle had taken us to the city's most exclusive in Pall Mall - the Temples of Venus.
Are you acquainted with Mrs Fawkland? No.
It's a pleasure we've hitherto been denied.
Sir? My Lord Newcastle, a pleasure, as always.
Madam.
You must know my guests, who have most generously escorted me through these perilous streets.
Mr Henry, Mr John Fielding.
How delightful.
The magistrates of Westminster.
Madam.
Madam.
Can I offer you tea or wine? Order a bottle of port, Fielding.
They have the finest in London.
Just late arrived on a ship from Lisbon.
And so, immediately, you discover my weakness.
There are two temples here, one for younger ladies, the other for those who cater for more specialised tastes.
A tour is surely in order, Mrs Fawkland.
It would be my most ardent pleasure.
Well, then.
It would be ours.
Do you require assistance, Mr Fielding? No, thank you, I am perfectly mobile.
Very well.
Let's take a walk.
Who is this most delightful of creatures? Susannah White, my lord.
People call me Sukie, sir.
Mrs Fawkland, I trust Sukie is new to your house and you haven't been hiding her from me.
Not hiding saving.
These are my renowned guests.
Mr Henry Fielding is the greatest writer in England, a master of stage and the printed page alike.
My lord is endlessly kind.
Perhaps madam will be generous and lend me some of his writings so as I can improve myself.
Speak presently.
Gentlemen.
Such close friends of Lord Newcastle are of course welcome to visit any time.
Returning home that night, warmed by Mrs.
fawkland's port, all seemed well in the world.
Lord Newcastle was having a satisfying evening and was likely therefore to be enthusiastic about our scheme.
One of the Mooney gang was in jail.
Nothing now could divert us.
Do you thing 6 men will be sufficient? No.
No.
In a year we should petition for more.
Just think what marvels we will have accomplished in a year.
You look tired, Mr Fielding.
It would do you good not to stay up all night.
Yes, yes.
Good evening, Sir.
Mr Fielding! Mr Fielding! Mr Fielding! I just want to see the magistrate.
You can't wake him up? No, I can't.
I just want to see the magistrate.
I'm begging you, sir.
I gotta speak to you.
Young woman, the hour is very late.
The Temples of Venus ain't what they seem.
Things go on there.
Things you ought to know about, sir.
Things evil in the sight of God.
Me and my sister, we walk to the piazza every day from Hackney, where my father works the orchards.
We was umselling apples when one of Mrs Fawkland's people saw us.
And offered you employment? Last Thursday.
My father don't earn much, most of what he does earn he spends on ale.
Our mother's dead, God rest her soul.
So, Mrs Fawkland's offer was a stroke of remarkable good fortune.
I sent her home - my sister.
I sent her home.
But.
.
a bully in Mrs Fawkland's employment must've snatched her somewhere on the road.
No sooner was I given food and clothing at the Temple, did I discover that my sister was there, too.
Mr Fielding, she For all I know they've deflowered her already.
I imagine the sale of apples was not the extent of your prior experience.
In the name of God, Sir.
In the name of God.
Polly's not quite seven years old.
How dare you march into my house like this? Excuse me! Mr Fielding.
You have some property here of mine.
These pretty clothes on your back belong to me, Susannah.
Dress, made specially for you, cost me ten shillings.
Skirts and petticoats, eight and six.
The hat was four.
The shoes, with buckles, eight shillings.
Of course, you know the law Of course he knows the law.
He's a magistrate Mary.
Then you must agree the girl's a thief.
Either throw her in the Compter, arrange for her hanging or see to it she returns with me.
Mr Fielding It seems you'd best return with Mrs Fawkland.
The devil fuck you, Mr Fielding.
I had heard you might be more difficult than your predecessors, but I see you are a reasonable man.
In all things.
I don't know what you earn from your novels, Mr Fielding.
But I'm sure the office of magistrate is less than serious lucrative, without the beneficence of patrons.
We share many patrons, I've no doubt.
Sir.
Rabid bitch.
Well, she's right, Henry.
The law is clear.
The girl's a thief.
Did you hear anything - any children? No.
No, I did not.
Could there be children there? Henry, our objectives are clear and within sight.
It would be a mistake to permit diversion.
The violation of a child? The girl is right.
There is God's law.
Come to bed, Henry.
Get some sleep.
Now I saw that the creation of a police force was a Christian duty.
Needed, not only to enforce the law, but also to protect the innocent.
Three-quarters of the city's children never saw their fifth birthday.
Foundlings begged for survival or turned to crime, or died of neglect.
I needed to know if such children were, indeed, being unnaturally exploited in Mrs Fawkland's exclusive house.
Under cover of accepting her offer of the previous day, I returned to the Temples of Venus, in the guise of a customer.
What service do you require this time, Mr Fielding? I wish to talk.
With you.
Madam.
Tea for one.
You are a great man, Mr Fielding.
But still a man.
There's no shame in that.
Rest assured, Tom Jones alone ensures you a most reasonable price.
I can see why Lord Newcastle holds you in such high regard.
What encouraged you to turn from the world of letters to crime and punishment? Pecuniary hardship.
I was barred from the stage, so I turned to the law.
What encouraged you to turn .
.
here? Pecuniary hardship.
That is, a determination to avoid it.
There are few ways for a girl to exercise some control in her life.
And I prefer this to being the other kind of mistress.
Which I was, for a while.
He chose to marry.
But he was very rich, and he felt I deserved some .
.
compensation.
I understand the woman I met last night is your second wife.
Yes.
My first wife .
.
Charlotte She passed away.
She was your great love.
According to my intelligence, this new wife gave birth to a child but three months after your nuptials.
Prior to which, she was your maid, Mr Fielding.
Your intelligence is correct.
Don't misunderstand me, Mr Fielding.
In my position, it does me little favour to bow before the petty moralities of the town and its scandals.
Au contraire.
I'm impressed.
You ignored the wagging tongues of Grub Street in order that your child be not a bastardo.
Do you regret the marriage? Sometimes.
As you say, it was only for propriety's sake.
Human beings, as we know, are weak, sinful creatures.
All of us, however we decorate it.
Our instincts are base.
Greed.
Selfishness.
Lust.
Mr O'Mara, your worship charged with the following list of robberies all undertaken as part of the notorious gang of one Nicolas Mooney.
On July 12th, you did rob Mr Bedevere Arbuthnot of 40 guineas.
I never heard of Nicholas Mooney.
Do you want to hang, O'Mara? To have your neck broken by a rope's noose? It's a rare thing that I offer to spare a man the gallows, and yet, you rush towards martyrdom.
I can't help you, sir.
Assist me in the arrest and conviction of Mooney and it will be his neck, not yours.
Terrifying the man may be, but his vengeance cannot reach you from hell.
We will protect you.
Girls at the flower of their womanhood.
Most charming.
How do you find these charming girls? They come to me.
It's their choice.
I offer them a home, an education and a trade.
Do any of them take your fancy, or shall I show you the Temple of Mysteries? None of these girls are virgins, of course, but they compensate for that failure in numberless ways.
Jenny here has remarkable skills with her mouth.
Nelly, with birches, as for Kitty You said there are two Temples.
But the girl, Susannah White, she said she had a sister.
A sister? Who knows what torment that child endured with a father who's a drunkard and a whore for a sister? No, I have no doubt at all she's better off with you.
There are young girls in my charge who receive instruction in reading and writing, and decorum.
When they reach 16 You are a businesswoman, Mrs Fawkland.
I wish to do business.
Because, as you see .
.
I am ill.
Rest assured, sir, of my discretion.
People think it merely gout, or the ravages of time.
But my ill-health, as you will have guessed, is the fruit of sin.
The normal treatment, salivation Its effects are too public for a man in my position.
You need a child.
Then sir, it is our Third Temple that you require.
'It was true.
'The Temples of Venus did indeed contain a secret third temple '.
.
where a man might be cured of syphilis 'by intercourse with a virgin child.
' Is that Polly White? That particular child is already spoken for, Mr Fielding.
Perhaps I could outbid him.
This girl is perfect for your need.
Eight summers, a virgin, and a charming child.
Betsy! Come! She would normally be 50 guineas, but I offer her to you for 30.
Do you wish to conclude? No! Delay is inadvisable.
Your condition will only grow worse.
III I need to bring the money.
Oh, I think you can be trusted to honour your debts, Mr Fielding.
I have to get drunk.
I understand.
Your every need will be catered for.
Mypresent need, of course .
.
disgusts me.
You are ill, sir, and in need of a remedy.
You're very kind, Mrs Fawkland.
Stand out of my way! I demand you let me pass! Excuse me.
I insist.
I will see that bitch! Mr Hargreaves.
Your skivvy here claimed that you was out.
Oh! Mr Fielding.
Once before we met in person at the Little Haymarket Theatre.
Ah, I'm sure the honour was mine.
So long as you weren't a critic.
Mr Hargreaves is the milliner from across the street.
Mr Fielding is inspecting my premises in his capacity as magistrate.
And found nothing unlawful, I'm sure.
Nothing unlawful.
Mrs Fawkland, perhaps we could conclude our business tomorrow evening.
Good day, sir.
An immense pleasure to have you as our guest, my Lord.
Your brother isn't here, I understand.
Indeed, no, no indeed.
Made further progress with this Mooney gang? Well, there is the one who will hang.
As for the rest of them - until we are equipped, as we discussed.
Yes.
I've been pondering the subject of our discussions.
I confess, in the light of day, the runners you request seem a less attractive proposition.
A proposal better suited to European despotism than the free men of England.
Our liberties are precious beyond life, are they not? Good.
Good.
For four years we had lobbied parliament for a police force - always obstructed by the apathy of the aristocracy.
I suddenly saw very clearly that the problem was more profound.
We were seeking the patronage of men who were up to their necks in filth.
Is the child there? Newcastle's changed his mind.
His Lordship's whim has deserted us.
There will be no funds.
And as the slug, O'Mara, fears Mooney more than us, we are damnable thwarted.
It is a small thing, a single child, when so many are doomed.
But we must save that child.
Henry "But who shall offend against one of these little ones, "it were better for him a millstone be hanged around his neck, "and he be drowned in the depths of the sea.
" It's monstrous indeed, if it inspires you to quote Scripture.
It is monstrous! Indeed! But we're agreed, however, that the problem regarding Lord Newcastle requires the most urgent attention.
Perhaps there's a way to satisfy both concerns.
My half-brother John had lost his sight when he was 19 years old.
But it had by no means blunted the sharpness of his mind.
He was able to recognise no fewer than 3,000 street criminals by their voices alone.
He understood that if we were to win back Lord Newcastle's support, we would need to be cunning.
And to combat Mrs Fawkland, with all her influential patrons, the best approach was not necessarily the most direct.
Mr Hargreaves.
It gives me great pleasure to see my work does not wholly go to waste.
I find your journal unparalleled useful, sir.
It might be yet more useful if space could be found to advertise the magnificence of your hats.
In that case, Mr Fielding, my gratitude would be immeasurable.
Mrs Fielding would sure look resplendent in such colours.
Or perhaps Yes.
I would offer a considerable concession to the author of Eurydice Hiss'd, The Tragedy Of Tragedies and the Grub-Street Opera Sir.
I'll blush.
Were you regularly in attendance at the Haymarket? Oh, whenever I could, Mr Fielding.
And now, of course, I and my good wife consume your novels as if they were physical nourishment.
Again, my thanks.
Now, this is excellent workmanship.
It must be rather tiresome, and perhaps a little difficult, when your clients are sluggish in the settling of their accounts.
Does she owe a lot? I beg your pardon.
I didn't mean to pry into your business affairs.
Mrs Fawkland in no wise has caused me trouble, sir.
Except financially.
Shall we? Do you think she can't pay, or simply sees no reason to do so? I'm more of the opinion it is the latter.
Dress-makers, cobblers, jewellers will tell a similar tale, whereas grocers and purveyors of liquor she pays every week.
I am sore most anxious as to whether I shall be paid at all.
Recourse to bailiffs is of course the prerogative of the creditor.
Unfortunately, her bawdy house is already home from home for half the piss-proud gentry.
The woman owes you money.
The law is perfectly clear on the matter.
She may have formidable friends, but I am the magistrate of Westminster and Middlesex.
If you take your rightful, lawful action against her, you and your fellow merchants hereabouts, you will receive my unqualified support.
The more so, should your action occur around eight o'clock this evening.
Oh! May I have another? Round up a few of your associates, Mr Welch .
.
with yourcustomary discretion.
The key lay with our colleague, Saunders Welch.
As High Constable of Holborn for six years, he had acquired a knowledge of London haunts which was unparalleled, and essential if our dream of a London police force was ever to become reality.
You can 'ave two but where's your coins? A night out at the Temples of Venus offered, by all accounts, a full service.
Dinner, music, cards and dancing were in plentiful supply, and always with a guarantee of fulfilment by the end of the evening.
The last thing its wealthy patrons expected or desired was a rude interruption from the bailiffs.
We sensed Lord Newcastle would have a particular aversion to it.
And the removal of a debtor, in this case their mistress, might provide for Polly White and her like a glimmer of hope.
You want the night to have ended.
I hope the milliner hasn't put too much faith in us.
Should it fail, he may blurt out our names in his defence.
If it gives us the ability to save the girl, I don't much care.
My foot pains me like a fuckster.
We're looking for Lady Fawkland.
Where is she? No cause for alarm, gentlemen, it's only bailiffs.
Nonetheless, it is most disagreeable.
I don't know about you, but I have places I could be less like to cause me indigestion.
Lady Fawkland! Come out! We know you're in here.
Take your hands off me! You don't think I come of my own free will? Rest assured, I will not tolerate being manhandled in this manner.
Within 24 hours, you will both of you most powerfully regret Purse.
Purse! Coat! Coat! Compliments of the Moonies! Mr Welch, John, andtwo companions.
I know.
I can tell Welch from the sound of his boots.
You need to soak that foot.
I'll boil some water.
Oh, later.
This is Bill Pentelow.
Former constable, less bent than most.
Went 20 rounds with Mr Cripps, though not as sharp as he used to be.
And this is Daniel Carne.
Fast as shit through a goose.
If the piss pot thinks he don't need protection walking the streets at night, he's learned his lesson.
What ought we do with his Lordship's property, sir? We were thinking we might return it to him, as further demonstration of the merits of having runners.
That would be somewhat incriminating, would it not? That depends how blockheaded he is, sir.
And I'd sayconsiderable.
How much money is there? Maybe six guineas in the purse, and the coat is worth a few shillings.
Is six guineas the full content of the purse? I swear to God, sir, neither of us have pilfered a ha'penny.
I can guarantee the honesty of these fellows, Mr Fielding.
If Mr Welch caught us lying, he'd thrash us till our own mothers wouldn't know us by sight.
Good.
The money will be useful.
Well, it'll teach his lordship to have so much on his person in these dangerous times.
But burn the coat.
After raiding their place of business, bailiffs would remove the debtor to a sponging house, a domestic dwelling, serving as a temporary prison.
It was a place where creditors squeezed their debtors of their last coin.
But Mrs Fawkland, with her impressive list of patrons, had no intention of remaining there for long.
On hearing of a lady in such distressful circumstances, it was the duty of a gentleman to pay her a visit.
Mr Fielding! I was outraged, madam, to hear of your misadventure.
It seems that some of your neighbours are less than neighbourly.
Oh, you are most kind.
I gather from your continuing incarceration, that at the present moment, you are unable to discharge your debts.
That is true, Mr Fielding.
Well, I wish I could help - financially.
But as you yourself pointed out, my office pays but poorly.
Do you suppose your friends are looking for you? Of course.
Request to the Earl of Sandwich that he pays his bill.
Requests from a friend in need, for assistance.
Oh, you regard them as your friends? Your patrons? I wonder if already one of your whores hasn't usurped your position and taken control of your temples.
I mean, why wouldn't they? And I know a thing or two about patrons.
Why shouldn't the likes of Lord Newcastle, Earl of Coventry, Viscount Queensbury, and, oh, the Viscount Fawkland, whose name you so charmingly purloined.
Why should they care which whore is in charge? My friends will find me.
The immediate question is will they find you soon enough to prevent your removal to the Fleet.
Have you ever been in the Fleet prison? Forgive me, Mr Fielding.
I'm very tired.
Your famous wit is lost on me this morning.
Bridewell, though, I imagine.
Do as you will, Mr Fielding.
I can write more letters.
Jane.
Both of us know you don't want to go back to prison.
In truth, I admire you.
To survive Bridewell, you must have sold your cunt, your mouth, and your arse for bread.
And you were lucky enough to get out without the pox.
And, lo, like a phoenix, you are Mrs Fawkland.
The consort and favourite of lords.
Magnificent.
What is it you want? You port-soaked son of a bitch.
The girl, Susannah White, and her sister Polly.
You will release them from servitude and obligation.
With or without the clothes you haven't paid for yet.
What will you do with the child, Polly? Keep her locked away? I know you, Fielding, men like you.
Is that so? "Oh, madam, I am sick, and a virgin is a medical urgency.
" Such a transparent lie.
The truth is, only the freshest flesh can quench your abominable lusts.
Your pretty wife, an aged hag, already spoiled by childbirth, unable to satisfy your lusts.
She's too loose.
You're a formidable woman, Mrs Fawkland.
"Formidable", as the French say.
And you have even more formidable friends.
I am but a lowly magistrate.
But consider this, before you think to enact your swift revenge.
My office may lack a certain authority.
But I, too, am very clever.
Very well Consider it done.
Fielding! Have you heard about my appalling ordeal? What's this? I'd just started to tell your brother.
He was assaulted by ruffians, who stole his coat and purse.
Good lord! Neither of you heard of it? Not a word, my Lord.
It was your Mooney gang.
I fought them, of course, and gave them bloody noses.
Mr Fielding, it was dreadful.
They attacked me with clubs, and wore terrifying masks, as if they were the minions of Satan himself.
Thank God you survived to tell the tale.
Thank God, indeed.
I have to confess this brush with brigandry has reinforced my commitment to your cause.
I shall be proposing your bill, Mr Fielding.
Parliament, I am sure, will agree to a small force of men to assist you.
In years to come, I promise you, no-one will believe this city existed without police.
You can apprehend these hell-hounds.
You'll show them no leniency.
I want that understood.
They'll be publicly hanged at Tyburn, with the crowds cheering as the shit-arsed blaggards' necks are stretched and snap.
We will do everything possible to bring these men to justice.
Indeed.
Of course, nobody wishes this to be spoken of openly.
You'll have your runners, under your command at Number 4, Bow Street, but for now, they'll be a secret.
Whatever's best in the judgment of Parliament, my Lord.
Lord Newcastle was almost as good as his word In September 1753, Parliament had voted us £200 of the £500 we requested.
My sister knows the way from down here, sir.
There's no life for me selling fruit, Mr Welch.
I wanted to know my sister was out of harm's way.
And now she is.
I wonder if I could ask you one last act of kindness, though.
You'd see to it she gets safely back to my father? And after, would you tell Mr Fielding that I'm sorry.
My words to him were harsh and We are for ever in his debt.
Of course.
My Lord.
This girl is quite the most ungrateful bitch I have met, but I leave the decision to you.
If you still want to fuck her, she can stay.
Oh, I still want to fuck her.
To Lord Newcastle! A splendid fellow.
A gambler and a fornicator.
A fuckster.
But our voice among the powerful.
Our friend.
Our friend.
'Human beings, creatures of basest instincts.
' 'I never thought differently.
' 'Animal passions, 'chaos '.
.
hell itself.
' We need order.
We need the law.
And finally, we can give London what it needs.
So were able to begin our war on crime with our force of constables.
All, like Mr Welch, master craftsmen with their fists.
We've had our triumphs and defeats.
It has been harder than I ever imagined.
We fought the gangs.
Fire with fire.
Blood with blood.
We'd broken some of the most powerful of them, proved who is master.
Justice has been done.
But we've only scraped the scum from the surface.
The filth, as I know, runs very deep.
There are more terrible monsters, down in the depths.
It's those we must face and conquer if we are to purge this city of vice.