London, 1855
"Roger Fenton, you are found guilty of taking and publishing obscene photographs. I hereby fine you 200 pounds. You are lucky to be getting such a light sentence."
Roger looked around the courtroom as he was escorted out by his solicitor. He hadn't meant for things to get out of hand like this, but when the newspapers had got a hold of his pictures, most hadn't hesitated to splash them across the front page. His photographs of Brunel's Hospital was meant to show the modern technology serving the empire, but he had failed to notice several wounded men on cots and the ground off to the one side of his shot. More newspapers had sold because of that picture than had sold in the previous six months. The 200 pound fine wasn't going to hurt - too much - as he had been paid very handsomely by no less than four publishers.
Several people attempted to accost him in the hallway, including an old biddy who shrieked about his moral depredation in even taking those pictures. His head was hung and he was entirely lost in thought as the solicitor guided him out of the building and into a carriage. He was free, and possibly the most famous man in England at the moment. Of course infamous may have been a better word.
Three Months Earlier
"So this is the Brunel Hospital?" Roger had just arrived, and was shocked at the absolute newness of the place. It wouldn't have looked out of place attached to an Army Camp back in Wales.
'Yes, there is an Operating Room over there, and most of the other tents are for Recovery or housing for the Doctors." The Nurse giving him the ha'penny tour was the most welcoming sight he had seen in the last few weeks, and he was hard pressed to remain the perfect gentleman around her.
"Is there any specific spot where I may set up?" Roger was concerned for his camera, he had to be on his way in the morning, and it was already early afternoon. He was losing time to take his picture.
"Yes, I was told to let you set up anywhere, but the recommended areas were here, there and over there." She pointed out the spots that were to be preferred as Roger nodded, his mind racing.
"That last one seems to be the best. I shall take my photograph as soon as possible. Thank you for your help Nurse?"
"Abel, Mr. Fenton. I will see that the enlisted men bring your things over to the tent set aside for you or tonight."
"Thank you, Nurse Abel." Roger walked off to scout the site for his picture.
Scouting around for a few minutes, he found the perfect spot for the camera some five feet from where Abel had pointed. He could get a nice shot of the Operating Tent and some of the staff. He set about unpacking his camera and tripod, not paying attention to his surroundings. Hearing shouting off in the distance distracted him and he craned his neck to see the commotion. Not finding the source, he returned to his camera and proceeded to take his photograph.
That night he dined with the commander of the camp, discussing several pleasantries but nothing of any substance. The next morning, Roger left the hospital camp.
Two Weeks Earlier
The pictures had gone for much more than Roger had expected, and Roger was getting comfortable back at home with his wife and son. In his mind, everything was perfect. Perfect until a shout interrupted his tea.
"Father! There's a man outside for you. He looks like a Constable"
"Harcourt, I have told you a hundred times! No Shouting!" Roger's son sulked into the room and repeated his earlier statement.
"Much better, you see. It is much more polite to speak to each other rather than--- Wait, you said a Constable?"
"Yes Father. He's dressed like one, I think he's even got a truncheon of his own!" Harcourt Fenton was of the age where every young boy wanted to be a soldier or an Inspector.
Tearing out of the Drawing room, Roger nearly ripped the door off of it's hinges to meet the Constable, worried about his presence. The Constable regarded him coolly, as a hawk sizing up a field mouse.
"Are you Roger Fenton, sir?"
"Yes, constable. What service may I be to you?"
"You are to be arrested for violation of Her Majesty's Obscenity Laws."
"Obscenity? I do not understand?"
"If you will come with me peaceably sir, I will allow you to send a message to your Solicitor."
"Absolutely. May I get my coat?"
"Of course."
"Please come in and get warm while I do."
Roger sifted through the coat rack, looking for his heaviest jacket. His mind was racing, trying to understand what he could have possibly done.
"Harcourt! Come here."
"Yes Father," Still sulking, Harcourt trudged into the foyer. "I wasn't listening - honest."
"I don't care right now. Here, take this note to Mister Williams office as fast as you can. Do you understand?"
"Yes Father. Right away."
"Good boy, hopefully I will see you soon. I love you son."
"You too Father."
Roger stepped outside with the constable and they strolled down to the local station in silence, Roger too wrapped up in his own mind to talk.
What is going to happen to me?
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Editing thanks to MrP
"Roger Fenton, you are found guilty of taking and publishing obscene photographs. I hereby fine you 200 pounds. You are lucky to be getting such a light sentence."
Roger looked around the courtroom as he was escorted out by his solicitor. He hadn't meant for things to get out of hand like this, but when the newspapers had got a hold of his pictures, most hadn't hesitated to splash them across the front page. His photographs of Brunel's Hospital was meant to show the modern technology serving the empire, but he had failed to notice several wounded men on cots and the ground off to the one side of his shot. More newspapers had sold because of that picture than had sold in the previous six months. The 200 pound fine wasn't going to hurt - too much - as he had been paid very handsomely by no less than four publishers.
Several people attempted to accost him in the hallway, including an old biddy who shrieked about his moral depredation in even taking those pictures. His head was hung and he was entirely lost in thought as the solicitor guided him out of the building and into a carriage. He was free, and possibly the most famous man in England at the moment. Of course infamous may have been a better word.
Three Months Earlier
"So this is the Brunel Hospital?" Roger had just arrived, and was shocked at the absolute newness of the place. It wouldn't have looked out of place attached to an Army Camp back in Wales.
'Yes, there is an Operating Room over there, and most of the other tents are for Recovery or housing for the Doctors." The Nurse giving him the ha'penny tour was the most welcoming sight he had seen in the last few weeks, and he was hard pressed to remain the perfect gentleman around her.
"Is there any specific spot where I may set up?" Roger was concerned for his camera, he had to be on his way in the morning, and it was already early afternoon. He was losing time to take his picture.
"Yes, I was told to let you set up anywhere, but the recommended areas were here, there and over there." She pointed out the spots that were to be preferred as Roger nodded, his mind racing.
"That last one seems to be the best. I shall take my photograph as soon as possible. Thank you for your help Nurse?"
"Abel, Mr. Fenton. I will see that the enlisted men bring your things over to the tent set aside for you or tonight."
"Thank you, Nurse Abel." Roger walked off to scout the site for his picture.
Scouting around for a few minutes, he found the perfect spot for the camera some five feet from where Abel had pointed. He could get a nice shot of the Operating Tent and some of the staff. He set about unpacking his camera and tripod, not paying attention to his surroundings. Hearing shouting off in the distance distracted him and he craned his neck to see the commotion. Not finding the source, he returned to his camera and proceeded to take his photograph.
That night he dined with the commander of the camp, discussing several pleasantries but nothing of any substance. The next morning, Roger left the hospital camp.
Two Weeks Earlier
The pictures had gone for much more than Roger had expected, and Roger was getting comfortable back at home with his wife and son. In his mind, everything was perfect. Perfect until a shout interrupted his tea.
"Father! There's a man outside for you. He looks like a Constable"
"Harcourt, I have told you a hundred times! No Shouting!" Roger's son sulked into the room and repeated his earlier statement.
"Much better, you see. It is much more polite to speak to each other rather than--- Wait, you said a Constable?"
"Yes Father. He's dressed like one, I think he's even got a truncheon of his own!" Harcourt Fenton was of the age where every young boy wanted to be a soldier or an Inspector.
Tearing out of the Drawing room, Roger nearly ripped the door off of it's hinges to meet the Constable, worried about his presence. The Constable regarded him coolly, as a hawk sizing up a field mouse.
"Are you Roger Fenton, sir?"
"Yes, constable. What service may I be to you?"
"You are to be arrested for violation of Her Majesty's Obscenity Laws."
"Obscenity? I do not understand?"
"If you will come with me peaceably sir, I will allow you to send a message to your Solicitor."
"Absolutely. May I get my coat?"
"Of course."
"Please come in and get warm while I do."
Roger sifted through the coat rack, looking for his heaviest jacket. His mind was racing, trying to understand what he could have possibly done.
"Harcourt! Come here."
"Yes Father," Still sulking, Harcourt trudged into the foyer. "I wasn't listening - honest."
"I don't care right now. Here, take this note to Mister Williams office as fast as you can. Do you understand?"
"Yes Father. Right away."
"Good boy, hopefully I will see you soon. I love you son."
"You too Father."
Roger stepped outside with the constable and they strolled down to the local station in silence, Roger too wrapped up in his own mind to talk.
What is going to happen to me?
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Editing thanks to MrP